After leaving Seminole Canyon, we take the two lane blacktops to wind our way to Cotulla TX where my mother's family came from. My great grandmother and grandfather were some of the pioneers who settled here and I'm hoping to learn more about them from the local library.
Wildflowers bloom along Texas country roads
in great abundance.
The last time we were in Cotulla was twelve years ago. Then Cottula was a dusty old town in decline where the last picture show had come and gone. Then the fracking for oil boom hit big. Friends and family warned us the town had changed, but we were still overwhelmed by what we saw. As we near Cotulla, we see more and more large water trucks on the roads. Apparently the fracking process uses tremendous amounts of water. Then we start passing more and more fracking stations with storage tanks.
A truck hauling water used for fracking
Fracking station with storage tanks
Once we arrived in Cotulla we are shocked to spot new large high rise hotels, representing just about all the major chains; lots of hotels, but no RV Parks (unless you consider a dirt lot with some Johnny-on-the-spots an RV Park). Trip Adviser points us to the Malana, a brand new hotel offering a nice suite for under $100/night. That evening at dinner in the El Charro, a man eating alone at the table next to ours, leans over and says to Peter "I bet I can guess what you do for a living." Peter said "OK guess." The man smiles and announces with satisfaction that Peter is an oil supervisor. We laugh shake our heads no. We tell him we were retired and in town to research some family origins. We both ask why he thought Peter worked for the oil business. Because he replied, only managers and executives from the oil fracking business have their wives and families in town. The majority of workers leave their families at home. He himself was a quality control engineer from Louisiana where his family is waiting for him.
We are curious and ask him about the oil fracking business in and around Cotulla. Bernard (probably not his real name) said the town had actually died down quite a bit from a few months ago with the drop in oil prices. The companies laid off about a third of their work forces. Wow - Cotulla must have been a crazy town before the downturn.
The next morning we check out of the hotel and drive to the Alexander Memorial Library. A few years ago, the head librarian informed me she had microfiche of Cotulla newspapers dating back into the 1880's. Once in the library, I remind her of our conversation. She is more than happy to set me up with a viewing station. Just as she is leaving the room she warns me their catalog of newspapers are spotty with missing time periods. Holding my breath, I start searching through the earliest issues. So far so good, a few issues from the 1880's were posted and I scrolled forward to find ones from 1891, the year my great grandfather was killed in a gun fight. My heart sinks as the next issue jumps forward into the 1920's. Dejectedly I ask the librarian about the missing issues and if there was any other place I could look. As suspected that was it. Since the old county courthouse burned down around 1900 destroying all records from that time period, I am at a dead end. Looks like the Texas version of Roots ain't going to be published in this lifetime.
La Salle County court house in Cotulla
Alexander Memorial Library
Parked in front of library
In a last ditch effort, we walk across the street to the Brush Country Museum where I collect copies of a few photos. According to family lore my grandfather was the Well Fargo agent in Cotulla during the 1880's. At that time, the towns people were fed up with the local sheriff as he was beholding to large ranch owners. Consequently, he just ignored drunk ranch cowboys tearing up the town. Frustrated, the business men talked my grandfather into running against the sheriff in the next election. As part of the campaign, incendiary newspaper articles were written against the sheriff accusing him of corruption. The sheriff was not pleased and challenged my grandfather to a classical gun duel. My poor grandmother witnessed her husband's shot missing it's mark as he fell down mortally wounded. At the time of his death, the family counted nine children living and another on the way. She was left alone to raise 10 kids (2 had died in childbirth).
Standing at the bar are J. Arthur Reed (newspaper editor), Will Cotulla, and Frank Boyd (my grandfather)
The sheriff who possibly killed my grandfather
Company B Texas Rangers Cotulla TX
Deaths from gunshots were common
We next stop at the Cotulla Cemetery. It's a mystery to me why my grandmother never remarried. Maybe she was fed up with men at that point. Opportunities were limited to women in a small pioneer town with that many children to feed. She sold off most of the family land, took in laundry, and was a wet nurse. As my great aunts and uncles grew up, they worked to help the family stay together. Later after raising her own children, she raised two grandchildren one of which was my mother.
We were at this cemetery on our last visit to sprinkle part of my mother's ashes over her beloved grandmother's grave. Then the cemetery was weedy and dusty. The oil fracking boom must be bringing much needed extra cash into the town's coffers as the Cotulla Cemetery grounds are much improved. My great grandmother is buried in a family plot surrounded her children who passed before her. Oddly enough my grandfather - Frank Boyd - is buried a distance away from the family plot. I has hoping to find out why she did not want to be buried next to her husband. Was she was mad at him for getting himself killed and leaving her with so many children? Looks like I'll never know. Chalk it up to another of life's mysteries.
Entrance to the Cotulla Cemetery
Martha Olivia Boyd great grandmother
Frank Boyd - great grandfather
The old cemetery is an interesting place to visit. We find the graves of Texas pioneers and Civil War heroes, as well as mothers dying in childbirth and buried with babes. Life was tough in a small Texas frontier town. Peter and I both notice how segregated this cemetery is with separate sections for Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Hispanics, and Blacks.
Hispanic burial area
With all leads exhausted, we leave Cotulla probably for good and set our navigation for San Antonio to visit my father's side of the family. First, we stop to see my cousin Janice and her husband Gordon.
Oak tree green from recent rains
Field of wildflowers
Janice & Gordon's home
Sammy
Janice and Gordon welcome us to their home
Missy
The next morning my cousin Jodell (Janice's younger sister) comes over to say "hi" as she can't join us for activities happening later.
Jodell shows off her new VW Bug
Me - Jodell - Janice
Later, we pick up my Aunt Gertie (Janice's Mom and my Dad's sister) for lunch at her favorite restaurant. Aunt Gertie turned 100 years young last November. She is the last person left from my parents' generation.
Aunt Gertie @ 100
Deciding on what she wants for lunch
Still standing
After lunch, Janice and Gordon give us a tour of San Antonio. We start at the quarry, an old limestone quarry now converted into a golf course and shopping center.
The next stop is to the small chapel of St. Anthony de Padua that my grandfather built with his father (my great grandfather) who originally immigrated from Germany. My grandfather built many churches, schools, and hospitals around San Antonio most of which are still in use. This small chapel is a lovely example of his work. The walk way up to the chapel is paved with bricks engraved with donors' names including two bricks engraved with our parents names.
Chapel of St. Anthony de Padua
Inside
Memorial brick for Janice's parents
Gordon and Janice then take us to Robber Baron Cave, which was a speakeasy during prohibition. Janice says Aunt Gertie used to frequent this speakeasy as a young lady. The entrance is at the bottom of a large sinkhole. Inside it's a two-dimensional maze of over 5000 feet of tunnels.
Gordon climbs back up the path from the cave entrance
We return to Gordon and Janice's where Janice picks some roses for a trip to Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery. We have family buried there and it's been too long since I last paid my respects.
Janice's father is here as well as my father, mother, brother, and my mother's cat. Yes - my mother's cat. After my father and brother passed away, my mother wanted to be buried here with the ashes of my brother and her cat. When I told the funeral home of my mother's wishes, they just shook their heads and explained that although it was perfectly fine with the military to bury my mother next to my father, they would look askance at including my bother's ashes in her casket and would NEVER allow a cat's ashes at a National Cemetery. The solution was to have Mom cremated and place her ashes into a double urn along with my brother and her cat. As far as we know, my family has the distinction of burying the only cat with them at Ft Sam.
Fort Sam military cemetery
This cemetery is enormous. Unlike the segregated Cotulla Cemetery, there is no distinction between races and/or religions. People are buried as they die and which section is open for new graves. We are thankful for Janice and Gordon guiding us to family plots. Peter and I are fascinated by the different symbols used for religious preferences. We were able to figure out some of them, but not all. Each soldier's grave stone has a symbol designating his/her religious preferences, followed name, rank, military branch, war(s) served in, and dates of birth/death.
My father's grave
with my Mom on the back
Janice's Father's grave
Next we go to the Japanese Tea Garden in Brackenridge Park. This garden was built on the site of another limestone quarry. Texans are good at re-purposing old limestone quarries.
Entrance to Japanese Tea Garden
Chimney for limestone kiln
The Pavillion
Large lily ponds below the Pavilion are currently being refurbished
On our way back to the house, we stop at a grocery store to pick up some dinner supplies We treat ourselves to a leisurely BBQ dinner in their back yard patio.
Ohhh... mariachis in the market
Backyard patio
Interesting local beer
Looks like we wore Janice and Gordon out
We leave San Antonio in the morning and take a scenic route to Austin. As a place to eat our lunch, we stop at Blanco State Park. This is a beautiful park along the Blanco river with good picnicking and camping facilities. It's a nice day and we enjoy lunching with the local llamas.
Blanco River at the State Park
Llamas lunching at park
Closing in on Austin
We are spending the night at my cousin Joyce (Janice's sister), her husband Charlie and their dog Jinny, a lakeland terrier.
Joyce
Ginny
Charlie
We are having dinner out with other cousins and catch up with the rest of the group in Robyn and Nick's new home overlooking Austin.
NextGen cousins - Davis, Clair, Evan, Lucas, Carter
We have a great time with everybody (photo by Joyce)
Kids explore a UFO lander
1st cousins all born the same year - Yvonne, me & Joyce
Texas-sized sunset over Lake Travis
2015 Texas Floods
Two weeks after coming back home to California, the top news stories are about torrential rains and floods hitting Texas after many years of drought. Two of the areas we just visited are particularly hard hit, Lake Travis and the Blanco River.
Years of drought had brought Lake Travis to its lowest levels since the lake first filled. In fact, Travis was so low some locals even wondered if it would ever be full again. Amazingly after a few weeks of heavy rains Lake Travis is now completely full as the following photos and video show.
Island in Lake Travis as seen in April before floods
After floods from the same vantage point (photo by Joyce)
The Blanco River swelled its banks to record flood stage, cresting at 43 feet destroying nearby homes and almost wiping out the beautiful Blanco State Park as shown in the video below.
I love my cousins and visiting them, but I am staying in California. Texas is either, too hot, too cold, too dry, or too wet.
Loved meeting your family, but sorry about the Cotulla records being sparse. Guess the cat's out of the bag at the Fort Sam Cemetery. I think you're on to something about your grandfather's being buried away from his widow and children. His grave was the eternal version of being exiled to the couch. Thanks for your artistry in creating this blog. Anne
LOL - yep you're right about letting the cat out of the bag.
My great grandmother would always reply that my grandfather died of "water on the brain." I used to wonder if he had some terrible sinus infection, then it finally dawned on me that was her way of saying he died from doing something stupid.
Loved meeting your family, but sorry about the Cotulla records being sparse. Guess the cat's out of the bag at the Fort Sam Cemetery. I think you're on to something about your grandfather's being buried away from his widow and children. His grave was the eternal version of being exiled to the couch. Thanks for your artistry in creating this blog. Anne
ReplyDeleteLOL - yep you're right about letting the cat out of the bag.
DeleteMy great grandmother would always reply that my grandfather died of "water on the brain." I used to wonder if he had some terrible sinus infection, then it finally dawned on me that was her way of saying he died from doing something stupid.