5 posts tagged “kerr”
Really, Dad, I’m Ok.
146 years ago a young man, George A. Staples wrote a series of letters to his father in Virginia from a tiny settlement called Zanzenburg, Texas. We call that community Center Point today. George Staples was employed as a school teacher, but from his letters it seems his classroom was small – the children of one family plus one other student.
I came across copies of these letters thanks to my good friend Jane Ragsdale of Heart o’ the Hills Camp for Girls in Hunt. An acquaintance of hers, Les Staples, gave her the copies, and she forwarded them on to me.
I have tried for the past 4 weeks to summarize each of the letters because they have some historical significance for our community. They were written during the heady days when our state chose to secede from the Union, and they were written from a community which was in the center of the debate; one of the citizens of Zanzenburg, Dr. Charles Ganahl, was actually a delegate to the secession convention, and from what I can gather, was also the largest slaveholder in the county.
I relate stories from this part of our history not because it’s a proud moment in the history of our county. As Lincoln said, whenever he heard someone make an argument for slavery, he wanted to try it out on them personally. I relate these stories because they reflect the prevalent thought in our county during the Civil War era. It shows a picture of our history, warts and all.
Though these letters were written almost 150 years ago, it’s evident that some things do not change. The last letter in the series is a letter of reassurance. George A. Staples is trying to soothe his family back in Virginia, to assure them that he’s safe out here in the wilds of Texas.
“There is no personal danger to be apprehended from the Indians down the low – all the danger is on the stock – they will steal horses, mules, and &c but will not attack a man if they find he is armed – there is no danger in my going in bathing as I always go in in the daytime and the Indians never come out except in the night, that is in the sight of houses – and the river is within 50 yards of the House – it is not swift at all – but very deep in places – but I can swim like a duck – so there is no danger.”
He also writes that he misses his family:
“If I succeed in as I hope to do in business I expect and hope it will not be over two years from this time when I will see you [again. I have never missed] you so badly in my life. I never yet was so long from home but the longer I am away the more I learn to depend on myself – and I think that is something gained.”
He writes about his career:
“The country is so thinly settled that school teaching unless it be in a city or in a college is not so profitable as living in a [state] where a person can become more widely known and stands a chance of improving his situation after his character is established.”
He writes of young women:
“The Girls do not occupy my thoughts any longer than when I am in their company and that is very seldom. I have only been visiting twice since being up here and that was to see a Mr. Lane who lives about a half mile from here and keeps a bachelors’ Hall. I went up and spent the evening with him.”
He writes of secession politics:
“I am sorry indeed that Virginia has so far forgotten herself as to think ever of remaining in the Union – with the North. I heard it though rather vaguely before I got your letter of the 24th February – but that confirmed it – I am almost ashamed to claim her as my native state if she does not secede. It will build up Texas – as the persons – or a majority at least that will leave her will emigrate to the place where there are the greatest inducements and I think Texas is the first in that respect. I hear that since Virginia has determined to remain in the Union that Louisiana intends to petition for readmission – if she does she ought to be rejected by both confederacies. And if my individual feelings were to be consulted before Texas should so dishonor herself as to sue for readmission, if we were compelled to owe allegiance to any government, Texas should be made over to Queen Victoria – rather than remain in Union with those she has just left.”
He writes like many young men, saying “I will start my journal to you when I get it done – this place is so dull that it is very seldom that I can find an incident to jot down in it.” Perhaps he was again trying to persuade his Virginia family that there was no danger here, or perhaps he was lonely in a thinly settled place where he felt he could never ‘establish his character.’
I contacted Les and George Staples, brothers and descendents of the young letter writer of 1861, to find out what happened to young George. Did he study law? Did he become a cattle baron? Did he succeed in business? What was ‘the rest of the story?’
Les Staples wrote “George Staples, my great-grandfather, wound up in Texana, Texas. He fathered 4 boys and 2 girls there. Texana no longer exists. It was a river port and when the river silted up and the railroad went west of the town, the whole town packed up and moved to Edna. Edna is the county seat of Jackson County.”
George Staples adds some interesting details: “I have the original letters and probably know as much as anyone else. He settled in Jackson County, probably at Red Bluff which no longer exists. He had a number of children and named all his sons, including my grandfather, after men he served under while fighting for the Confederacy. My grandfather’s name was Archer McAmy Staples and his brothers included Oliver Hardeman Staples and Henry King Staples. Henry King Staples became editor, owner and publisher of the Edna Herald for 48 years and his brother Hardeman ran the linotype machine. Edna was or became the county seat of Jackson County after the railroad was put through. My understanding is that it was originally known as Macaroni Junction because it was a supply depot for the Italian railroad workers brought in by Count Telferner who got the contract to build the railroad. After Edna became established, most of the inhabitants of Red Bluff moved to Edna. One of my great Aunts was Maggie Staples who lived in the family house which was moved to Edna. She died an old maid many years ago. My father was named George Archer Staples and I am a Junior. My son is George III, known as Rex as is befitting royalty.
“I believe from the letters that the first George’s father’s name was Charles, as I have a letter or two from him as well. I do not know for certain, but suspect that George’s middle name was Anthony as Uncle Hardeman’s son was named George Anthony and the Archer I received was the last name of one of the confederate officers George served under.
“From desultory research I have concluded that the journey started near Lynchburg Virginia somewhere near the Pedlar River, which is the water supply for the city.
“My increasingly dim memory seems to recall that George married a woman named White and I know that there are relatives of that name. Texas was a hard place to make a living after the civil war and all indications are that George never accumulated any significant wealth, either in land or cattle.
“Family legend indicates that the Staples men were all good looking and had a weakness for fast horses. I personally attribute their success and good fortune to hybrid vigor.”
So the young correspondent fought in the Civil War, stayed in Texas, and became a father. Given the names he gave his sons, a gifted researcher could determine George Staples’ role in the Civil War.
Thanks, Jane, for sharing these letters with me.
Until next week, all the best.
Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native.
Last week I reported that my good friend Jane Ragsdale of Camp Heart o’ the Hills in Hunt had shared some letters with me – letters written during the history-laden weeks when Texas chose to secede from the Union. One of her acquaintances, Les Staples, sent her copies of letters written by his grandfather, George Staples. The letters are dated 1861 and addressed from Zanzenburg, Kerr County, Texas. Zanzenburg was an early name for the community we now call Center Point.
Center Point is a quiet community today, but in 1861 one of the leaders of the secessionist movement, Dr. Charles Ganahl, resided there, making Center Point one of the hot spots in the effort to break Texas away from the US. Dr. Ganahl was a fervent secessionist, having served in the Secession Convention in Austin, and was one of the signers of the “Ordinance of Secession” that, once approved by the voters, officially separated Texas from the Union; that document was passed, 166-8, on February 2, 1861.
These letters, written in the fever of the era, convey what people were thinking in our part of the world during those months.
It’s through source documents like these letters that I learn more about the history of an era than from a shelf of books. The raw, unfiltered, unedited words of eyewitnesses is always preferable (at least to me) than tomes written in an ivory tower and tossed out of the window to readers waiting below.
Last week I shared the highlights of Staples’ first letter home – and now I share some of his second letter, dated January 27, 1861, less than a week before the “Ordinance of Secession” was adopted in Austin.
“I will now give you as good a description of Texas as I possibly can,” young George Staples wrote to his father. After copying a surveyor’s report about the coastal areas of Texas, Staples begins to describe the land around Zanzenburg:
“It would impress you to see the Guadalupe Mountains,” he wrote, describing the hills around here, not the Guadalupe Mountains in deepest West Texas. “They are as large and high as either old Banks Mountain or the Big Piney; just as round as a potatoe [sic] Hill and the most of them entirely destitute of any kind of growth, while all of them are encircled with collateral ridges as if it had formerly been laid off into immense Corn Rows, but the land produces well. Corn yields about the same as Virginia. Also, there is no tobacco at all raised here, but all vegetables produced abundantly, with two crops per year. I have not seen an apple or pear tree, … neither a Walnut or a Hickory nut. All the fruit … are figs, plums, a few peaches, raspberries, water & musk melons, and etc.
“The timber we have is Live Oak, Post Oak…
“The cattle raising business is the most profitable one can engage in, that is when a man has sufficient capital to commence with. Cattle cost from $5 to $9 per head, and increase fast enough to make a nice profit of 30 to 75 per cent per annum. It requires a strong able bodied man to attend to them besides the horses. A herd of 2000 head requires an overseer and about 5 or six extra hands.
“Sheep raising also pays very well. They cost from $1.50 to $2.50 per head and foal twice a year though it requires a shepherd to be with them constantly. We do not have to sow our seed to reap here, but go out in the prairie and cut any where.
“I have gotten to be quite a good rider since being here and also a tolerably good hand at roping or lassoing cattle. It is very exciting to work roping and branding cattle. The manner of doing it is this: the hands scatter out and collect all of the cattle in the prairie for miles around in a large strong pen. Frequently there are more than 2000 to gather and in the center of the pen is a post firmly fixed in the ground. The hands go in with ropes of from 30 to 50 feet in length. In one end they have a noose which they swing around their heads two or three times and then throw it at the animal they want to [brand. The noose] settles over its head. It is then thrown down and branded with a hot iron brand. Cousin Milams’ brand is the [Diamond SS]. The cattle frequently show fight and in such cases hands enclosed in a pen it requires all a person’s bravery, skill and coolness to escape being gored. And between the hollering of men and the bellowing of the cattle and the sizzle of burning flesh, [it] provides a most exciting noise.
“I am going to invest all the money I can make in Cattle and Land. I am practicing economy now and to show you that I am I’ll tell you what I bought this winter. Viz – 1 pair of boots, 1 pair of shoes and 2 pair socks. These are all I have bought with the exception of paper, pens and ink, envelopes and stamps. I am now wearing a black vest you bought for me in… Richmond.”
“I will not need any money as I have some now…”
Until next week, all the best.
Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who made it to work in downtown Kerrville each day during the snow and ice, and wondered where the rest of you were hiding.
It’s the time of year when Orion is directly overhead just before sunrise, staring straight down our chimneys. The Pleiades, just out of his grasp and dangling from the sky like a seven-bulb chandelier, seem oddly out of place in the zenith of the predawn sky. Autumn, easily my favorite season of the year, waxes on toward fullness, each day becoming more gibbous, edging toward plumpness.
This second wave of American snout butterflies visiting us was a surprise to drivers, but a welcome one to the birds who’ve been passing through, heading to their haciendas to the south. Several of us have noticed the birds offering a car cleaning service, feasting on the unfortunate snouts on cars’ grills. Bats, too, have been working the snout wave. Still, millions of these hapless butterflies skitter by, most seeming to travel toward the north and northeast, a direction which seems to me to be exactly the wrong direction to fly.
I enjoyed Thursday’s performance of the Symphony of the Hills, the first of this season. Once again the house was full and the music was wonderful. Sitting there I remembered something I’d thought of years before at one of my children’s soccer games.
Writing this column weekly for 12 years I’ve run across many stories about the families of our community, stories of generations of families here.
At that long-ago soccer game I noticed some of the children were descendents of early Kerr County families. As they ran up and down the field I saw them striving toward the goal, opposed, as it happened, by children of other old-time Kerr families.
Perhaps by greater coincidence, it happened that the two families had striven against each other before, several generations earlier. The several families on that field that day had been in competition on many fields before – in economic, political and even social competition. The soccer game I was watching (and cannot remember well) was just another of a long series of matches between these larger families.
Be patient with me, I’m getting to my point.
The result of all of that striving had less to do with the competitive nature of these families than with the community those efforts built.
Each of us plays better when we’re matched against a skilled opponent. We run faster, we plan better, we work harder. And through such efforts communities are made.
So, back to row G of the Cailloux Theater last Thursday evening: I think the Symphony of the Hills is one example of the striving of our community. Others that come to mind range from Playhouse 2000, the Point Theater and the Kerr Arts and Cultural Center, examples of our artistic efforts, to charitable efforts such as Raphael Free Clinic, the Salvation Army, Partners in Ministry and Any Baby Can. Even commercial efforts, like James Avery Craftsman, where silver and gold are molded and hammered into artful jewelry, or Mooney Aircraft, where pieces of aluminum and bundles of wires are constructed into flying machines, or the Burch’s shooting range, where the Olympic flag flutters over our community -- these are all bits of the mosaic of our community’s efforts to become, well, itself.
I sat there listening to the music Thursday and considered what we were doing. Hundreds of hours’ work had gone into preparing for the performance. Musicians had practiced, volunteers had organized, the Cailloux staff had set up… hundreds of hours had been spent.
And the audience, too, had gathered together from several counties to play its role. We listened and appreciated, our part of the bargain. We didn’t take the much more efficient route, downloading symphonic works onto our iPod and listening at our convenience, little white earbuds corked in our ears, multi-tasking our way through Sibelius or Grieg, pushing the pause button to take a phone call. We were part of the ritual of live music, where mistakes can (and do) happen, where imperfections haven’t been edited out, but where, on rare occasions, magic happens. We were there not to hear the sterile presentation of mass-produced compact disc, but the surprising accident of talent, of genius. We were there to be startled, and we got what we came for.
If you ask what our community is striving to become, look to see where it is making its efforts. Follow the money. Count the hours spent. Only then can you understand its dreams, only then can you see what we’re striving to become.
Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who strives to put words into sentences, string sentences into paragraphs, and tie the whole bundle with a plain bit of binder’s string.
Ms. Carolyn told me to stop it. “You’ve stretched out this story on Major James Kerr long enough,” she said. “Tell them what you’ve learned about him this week, the one thing few people know about him.”
And so I will.
Major James Kerr, for whom our city and county were named, was quite an interesting fellow. I’ve used the last few columns telling you some of his story. This series of articles began after a chance meeting with Walter Womack, a descendent of Major James Kerr. He intrigued me with one comment: “You know, there is one thing few people know about James Kerr.”
It’s true. One thing few people know about the man whose name we say almost every day.
Some might think the fact that James Kerr spent the last few years of his life practicing medicine would be the one surprising thing I’ve learned. On the frontier medical knowledge was in great demand, and James Kerr, after the tragic loss of his first wife and three of his children, knew firsthand the tragedies that pioneer families faced when disease or misfortune struck. According to an excellent oral history prepared by Ann Bethel, of the Kerr County Historical Commission, on New Year’s Day, 1846, Dr. James B. P. January a physician of Jackson County granted Kerr a license to practice medicine. Kerr charged $2 for a regular call, $5 for a night call, and an extra $5 if he had to sit up all night with a patient.
One particular patient’s account tells a lot about the practice of medicine on the frontier, the account of his visit with the wife of Samuel McCullouch, Locola. “In a 2-day struggle for her life, Kerr bled her three times, administered medicine costing $6 and ran a bill totaling $30 before she died at one-half past 4 pm. Kerr then sold McCulloch ‘forty feet of planks’ for her coffin.”
But Kerr’s medical practice is not the one surprising thing I learned about James Kerr.
Nor would it be Jack Auld’s relating how his forebear, Joshua Brown (who founded Kerrville) served in the Texas Revolutionary War alongside James Kerr. According to Auld, the pair were a part of a group tasked with disrupting Mexican military supply lines. They would find a freight wagon train, wait for an opportune moment, steal up quietly, and remove the ‘lug nuts’ which held the wagon wheel onto the axle, then ride away like the wind, leaving the wagon stranded with its load of vital military supplies. It was an effective way to cripple the advancing Mexican army, but it was a highly dangerous mission. I’m hoping Mr. Auld will tell me more stories about Joshua Brown soon.
No, the one thing I learned about James Kerr – the one thing I’ve been keeping back from these pages for more than a month – has been corroborated by two different members of the James Kerr family. Both Walter Womack and Ruth Simons (Kerr) Ray, who was interviewed by Ann Bethel and Clarabelle Snodgrass for the useful oral history I mentioned above – both members of the family say the same thing. This new piece information solves an old mystery for me: why on Earth did Joshua Brown originally name our community “Kerrsville?”
I can see why the ‘s’ was dropped in the 1860s; while most people would probably pronounce the name ‘Kerrzville,’ a few might pronounce it where it sounded like ‘Curse-ville.’ The ‘s’ had to go.
Both Walter Womack and Ruth Simons Ray say that Major James Kerr pronounced his name as if it were spelled “Karr.” They both say the family pronounces the name as if it rhymes with the word “Car.”
“It’s always been ‘Karr’ and they even call it ‘Karr’ in Gonzales,” Ms. Ray told Bethel and Snodgrass.
Joshua Brown, who had served in the Texas Revolution with James Kerr, who was a great friend of James Kerr, would have pronounced his Kerr’s name as Kerr himself pronounced it. When Joshua Brown named our community, when he said the name himself, I’m almost positive he pronounced it “Karrzville.” As newcomers came to town they changed the pronunciation to reflect how the name is spelled. I’m sure some of the original settlers tried to correct the pronunciation for several decades and then finally gave up.
There. I hope it’s been worth the wait, reading about the life of Major James Kerr for these many weeks, and I hope you agree with me. This one new piece of information does change the way one thinks about the name of our community and county.
Until next week, all the best.
Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who pronounces his last name ‘hair – ing’
Several of you have asked me when I am going to finish this series on Major James Kerr, the man for whom and are named, wondering when I will finally get to the one new piece of information I’ve learned that will change the way we think about the name of our community. I’m thinking it might be this week.
For those of you just now joining us, I have used the past several columns trying to get to the newly discovered information, though limitations of space have prevented me (so far) from reporting what I’ve learned.
(This series of articles began after a chance meeting with Walter Womack, a descendent of Major James Kerr, intrigued me because of one small comment Mr. Womack made: “You know,” he told me, “there is one thing few people know about James Kerr.”)
Last week we left Major Kerr residing beside the with his only surviving child, a daughter named Mary Margaret.
But even from this isolated spot, Kerr was in the thick of things in the early history of and knew many of the leaders of the state.
According to a 1957 sketch written by James Kerr Crain, a descendent, “James Kerr's association with Stephen F. Austin developed into a warm friendship that ended only with the death of with Kerr at his bedside. When young Mary Margaret Kerr was baptized into the Catholic faith, Stephen F. Austin was her godfather. It so happened that on her ninth birthday Austin was at the Kerr home, Mary Margaret, or Minnie as she was called, had begged her father often to give her a gun for her very own; on this birthday she renewed the request which was overheard by her godfather. He sent into an order for a small and light rifle to be mounted in silver and to bear the inscription: "Minnie's Rifle". It was an excellent weapon and fired accurately; so much so that many were the requests to use it.”
Another aspect of James Kerr is repeated in the sketch.
“The Texas James Kerr was not a handsome man. Indeed, at one of the rare social gatherings of the sparsely settled community he was a contestant in a simple frontier game called, ‘Uglying for the Knife.’ The contestants lined up before the judge and the one deemed the ugliest was presented with a knife as a prize; the winner must then carry the knife until he met an uglier man to whom he would transfer it. On this occasion a fellow contestant striving for the prize called out; "Stand just as God Almighty made you, Kerr." Whether our ancestor was making faces at the time is not related; at any rate he won the knife. A year or so later Major Kerr attempted to pass the knife to a newcomer who recoiled exclaiming: "Mister, shoot me but don't give me that knife, if I am uglier than you then I want to die." I have concluded always from this sequel that Major Kerr was not making faces when he won the knife.
“In 1833 James Kerr married a second time. His bride was Sarah Fulton, the adopted sister of John J. Linn of . This made life more pleasant for little Mary Margaret who had never really known her mother. Four days before this second marriage James Kerr was baptized into the Catholic Church. I have in the old Kerr bible the baptismal certificate. It is written in Latin and is dated September 20th 1833. The ceremony was performed in San Patricio by Father John Thomas Malloy. His sponsors were Richard Everard and Elizabeth McGloin.”
Well, I’ve run out of space again, but we’re a lot closer to the surprising new information I’ve learned. Hopefully I’ll get it squeezed in next week.
Until then, all the best.
Joe Herring Jr. is a native who hopes to write a book about the history of our area someday.
