The First Kill of Hoosier Aviator Paul Baer

Hoosier native Paul Baer was a pilot of many firsts, eventually becoming a famous aviator and the American military’s first flying ace.

Born into a modest midwestern family in the late 1800s, Baer grew up short and shy in Fort Wayne in the late 1800s. But he wasn’t short on ambition. During World War I, Baer volunteered to join a new breed of combatant: the fighter pilot dogfighting in the skies over France. Indiana has produced many important war figures. But Baer earned a giant reputation as the first-ever American to shoot down an enemy plane — a thrilling story that no one has told better than Baer himself.

Starting out with the Spad

In France, Baer served first as a volunteer in the French military, before switching to an American squadron once his country joined the conflict. He flew French planes built by the Société Pour Aviation et ses Derives, or SPAD. The abbreviation became the name of a sturdy fighter, with more than 5,600 Spad fighters being built during World War I for France, Great Britain and other countries. In a letter to a friend, Baer noted, “we fly Spads of two types, the 180 h.p. and the 220 h.p. The 220 carries two of the Vickers machine guns, but the motors do not hold up very good. . . . You can never depend on them. We therefore prefer the 180s. It carries only one machine gun.”

An image of Paul Baer.
Baer posing with his Spad in August 1917, while stationed at Verdun. Image sourced from Hoosier Aviator Paul Baer: America’s First Combat Ace, courtesy of the Paul Baer Collection, Allen County–Fort Wayne Historical Society.

Baer’s First Kill

Baer achieved his first victory on March 11, 1918, shooting down a German Albatross fighter near Rheims. Two days later, Baer recounted the episode in a letter to his father:

Dear Dad:

If I remember right, today is your birthday. I will write you a letter. . . . Well, Dad, at last I got my first “official” German aeroplane. Day before yesterday, I, unaccompanied, was flying inside the German lines. As time drew near for me to come home, as I had been out my full time, and while almost at our lines, the French send up a signal to me which told me in what sector the Boche were. I turned around and was greeted by seven German planes. Part of the enemy machines were above me and part of them below. Well, I only had enough gasoline for ten minutes more flight, and I was six or eight kilometers inside their lines. I pointed my machine at the closest one to me, and as soon as I got right on him, I opened up with my machine gun and down he went. The rest of them came at me at the same time and I sure did some “scientific retreating.” Well, the Hun I killed is official, that is I got credit for killing him. He fell about seven kilometers in his own lines, but the French saw him hit the ground.

The Hometown Response

It was the first victory for a pilot flying in the American military. Back in Indiana, an Associated Press reporter described the reaction of Baer’s sister, Mabel, upon hearing the news: “Mother will be so proud of him when she hears,” Mabel said. “She’s here in Fort Wayne now but there’s no telephone where she is on Fox avenue, but I’m going to find her right away to tell her what Paul did. He was in Paris the last word we had from him. You’re real sure he wasn’t hurt at all?”

Baer was fine. In fact, he tallied further victories on March 16, April 6 and April 12. On April 23, 1918, he shot down his fifth Hun plane, making the Hoosier pilot the first American ever to become a combat ace.

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Texan Ingenuity: Lone Stars Innovators

When you think of Texans, what comes to mind? Cowboy? Oil tycoon? Astronaut? Philanthropist? Sure, Texas history is filled with these outsized characters, but other iconic Texans are the innovators, the tinkerers, the mad scientists, and the lucky son-of-a-guns who struck gold by accident. They all lived in the Lone Star State.

I tried and failed, I tried again and again and succeeded.

GAIL BORDEN JR.’S GRAVESITE INSCRIPTION.
An image of Gail Borden Jr.
A photograph of Gail Borden Jr. (1801–1874). Image sourced from Texas Ingenuity: Lone Star Inventions, Inventors & Innovators.

Gail Borden Jr. — Bored Polymath?

Newlyweds Gail Borden Jr. and Penelope Borden arrived in Texas in 1829 to join his brother and father in the dusty town of San Felipe (Texas was still a part of Mexico). Borden helped launch a newspaper the Telegraph and Texas Register, and printed the original Texas Declaration of Independence. He was constantly busy in the new republic with such varied gigs as Galveston customs collector, surveyor of Galveston and Houston, and trustee of the Texas Baptist Education Society. But it was Borden’s inventions that set his apart from his peers. One of his first efforts was a horse-drawn wagon that doubled as a boat, dubbed the “terraqueous vehicle.” His dehydrated meat and mixed flour “meat biscuit” never took off. Borden found his golden goose when he developed a way to evaporate 60 percent of the water from milk, and the resulting milk didn’t go bad (in an era before refrigeration). His “condensed milk” was a hit with the U.S. Army, but when he added sugar and put the milk in a vacuum-sealed can, the beverage would last years. Today, his“Eagle Brand” is recognized in every modern grocery store around the world!

An image of Scott Joplin.
Composer and pianist Scott Joplin, circa 1890. Image sourced from Texas Ingenuity: Lone Star Inventions, Inventors & Innovators.

King of Ragtime

As a child, native Texan Scott Joplin took piano lessons from German immigrant Julius Weiss. As a teen, the future music innovator played gigs in honky-tonks in East Texas, and excelled at performing the popular music style called Rag. Joplin exalted the style, his lively toe-tapping syncopated rhythms took on an upbeat sound that proved easy to listen to and easy to love. His 1899’s “Maple Leaf Rag,” displayed Joplin’s masterful touch which brought a unique type of sophistication and esteem to the genre, and became the most popular Ragtime piece ever published. Today, Rag widely considered a parent of Jazz. Joplin’s compositions define the era and capture the spirit of the early 20th century America.

White Gold in a Tiny Bottle

Dallas-born secretary Bette Nesmith wasn’t the greatest typist in the world, and in 1950s Texas, mistakes were hard to erase. Bette had a crazy idea. She worked up a concoction in her kitchen — a tempera water-based paint that matched the office stationery. She sold her new “Mistake Out” to more and more secretaries and to local business supply stores, renaming the product Liquid Paper. In 1975, Bette earned a patent for Liquid Paper, and that same year, she started operations out of a thirty-five-thousand-square-foot Dallas building that produced five hundred bottles a minute. Over twenty-five million bottles of Liquid Paper were produced the next year, and in 1979, she sold Liquid Paper to Gillette for $47.5 million. Not too shabby for a little bottle of white paint.

An image of Mariano Martinez
Mariano Martinez at the first frozen margarita machine (now at the Smithsonian). Image sourced from Texas Ingenuity: Lone Star Inventions, Inventors & Innovators, courtesy Mariano Martinez.

Margarita Anyone?

Of course the frozen margarita machine was invented in Texas! In 1971, Dallas restaurateur Mariano Martinez of Mariano’s Hacienda Restaurant ditched his blender, and modified a soft-serve ice cream machine to churn out a frozen version of the classic cocktail. Tex-Mex cuisine was taking off, and the new improved Margarita was a hit. The frozen treat remains a cornerstone of Tex-Mex, and is now a Texas and American icon.

An image of Howard Hughes, Jr.
Howard Hughes with a Boeing army pursuit plane, circa 1941. Image sourced from Texas Ingenuity: Lone Star Inventions, Inventors & Innovators, courtesy of Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-63333.

Houston’s Misfit Tinkerer

Howard Hughes, Jr. may have inherited his father’s oilfield equipment empire, but the genius kid from Houston made his mark on the world all by himself. While known today as an eccentric hermit, in the 1920s Hughes moved to Hollywood to try his hand movie-making. The mechanical genius also set his sights on aviation, working obsessively to improve airplane design and performance. In 1938, Hughes set a record for flying around the world in three days, nineteen hours and seventeen minutes. Hughes received a hero’s welcome when he returned to Houston. After a hearty reception at the Houston airport, which the mayor hastily (and illegally) named in Hughes’s honor, the aviator was greeted to a Downtown parade and banquet.

I’m not a paranoid deranged millionaire. I’m a damned billionaire.

HOWARD HUGHES, JR.
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Rare Images of Indianapolis Hockey Teams

Hoosier sports fans might seem like they care about basketball and football and nothing else—but Indianapolis hockey has a surprisingly deep tradition. There have been many an Indianapolis hockey team since 1939, and several of the professional outfits have won titles. Dozens of Indianapolis icemen went on to win the Stanley Cup. And it was at Indy’s Market Square Arena that the legendary Wayne Gretzky began his professional career, skating for eight games with the Indianapolis Racers in 1978.

Here are some rare and wonderful images of the Circle City’s rich hockey history.

An image of the 1939 Indianapolis Capitals.
The 1939 Indianapolis Capitals, the first pro team to emerge in Indianapolis, pose in the Fairgrounds Coliseum before a game. Team members, from left to right, are: (front row) Bill Thomson, Connie Brown, Jimmy Franks, Archie Wilder, and Joe Carveth; (back row) unidentified staff, Ron Hudson, Joe Fisher, Buck Jones, Eddie Bush, Bob Whitelaw, Alex Motter, Byron McDonald, player/coach Herb Lewis, and general manager Dick Miller. Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey, courtesy of the Blaise Lamphier collection.
An image of the first pocket Capitals schedule.
This Capitals schedule is the first ever pocket schedule produced for a local hockey team. Note the spelling of the home rink— “New Colosseum.” Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey.
An image of the Coliseum in 2004.
The Coliseum as it looked in 2004. It has undergone minor face lifts, but the exterior and interior remain very similar to 1939, when the building opened. In 2002, the rink became the oldest active building in the country to host professional hockey. Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey.
An image of Kim Clackson of the Racers hockey team.
After more than a decade without hockey, Indianapolis fans welcomed the Racers during the 1974–75 season. Kim Clackson, pictured here, became a folk hero for his ability to use his fists. During the “frontier days” of hockey in the late 1970s, Clackson was the Racers’ policeman. He totaled 519 penalty minutes in a two-season stint with the club. Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey.
A promotional image of Wayne Gretzky.
The most decorated Racer—and hockey player—of all time, Wayne Gretzky began his storied career with the Racers when he signed a personal services contract with team owner Nelson Skalbania in 1978. Just 17 years old, Gretzky produced a stir in Indianapolis. (Department store L.S. Ayres had a “Great Gretzky Fan Club.”) But the buzz wasn’t yet quite enough. After eight games as a Racer, Skalbania dealt Gretzky to the Oilers, along with Peter Driscoll and Ed Mio, for money and draft picks. Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey.
An image of the Ice playing the Colorado Eagles in 2004.
Indianapolis has hosted a number of teams, from the Capitals and the Racers to the Checkers and the Ice. Here, at the Coliseum in 2004, the Ice play the Colorado Eagles. Image sourced from Indianapolis Hockey.
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Texas Moonshine and Outlaw Bootleggers

Texans sure do love their outlaws. In the nineteenth century, popular culture was overrun with stories of gunslingers, horse thieves, and rampaging Indians. While the esteemed Texas Rangers dispatched most criminals to the history books, a new outlaw sprang forth in the early twentieth century — the bootlegger.

Decades of work by social progressives and temperance advocates culminated in the nationwide ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, commonly known as the “Prohibition Act,” in January 1919. Following the passage of national Prohibition, alcoholic beverages became illegal to make, sell, transport, and, of course, drink. Busting up barrels of beer was easy, finding enforcers of Prohibition was not.

An image of men working at a still.
Men working a still. Image sourced from , courtesy of the The Glen Rose Moonshine Raid Somervell County Heritage Center.

Entrepreneurs

Somervell County, Texas, was perfect for illicit whisky-making, with its rocky hills and hiding places; and it’s proximity to Dallas/Fort Worth meant bootleggers would have plenty of customers just down the road. The small mill town Glen Rose boasted an artesian springs that brought in a few curious tourists. Locals Sam and Rabbit Darnaby set up their still (from the word “distillery’) using artesian waters along Paluxy Creek. Others caught on, and moonshine became the number-one industry in poor Somervell County. Glen Rose would soon gain the attention of the Governor of Texas himself.

Still Snitches

In 1923, Dick Watson was pulled over by a county sherrif’s deputy, who found his not-so-hidden jars of moonshine. Watson’s buddy, the sheriff, got him assigned to The Anti-Saloon League, who paid salaries and expenses for Special Prohibition Agents to infiltrate bootlegging operations in the state and report back to law enforcement authorities. Dick Watson was now a Special Prohibition Agent working under the direction of the Texas Rangers, and would be one of many still snitches. That’s one way to beat the rap!

“One thousand Rangers could be used to suppress lawlessness and bring to justice those local officials who willfully and corruptly refuse to enforce state law…While I am Governor of Texas, no band of criminals will ever take charge of a community as long as a Texas Ranger can pull a trigger.” — Texas governor Pat Neff

An image of Texas rangers with a confiscated still.
Rangers with confiscated still at Somervell County Courthouse, August 25, 1923. Image sourced from The Glen Rose Moonshine Raid, courtesy of the Somervell County Heritage Center.

The Raid

Governor Neff found his soldier in Texas Ranger Red Burton, who would lead the coming raid on Glen Rose. On August 25, 1923, Texas Rangers made their move against the Glen Rose moonshine enterprise. Lawmen from all around were brought in to assist. All day long, apprehended bootleggers were marched into the courthouse. The public was given a spectacle of confiscated still equipment, dumped on the courthouse lawn. By afternoon, the courthouse lawn was stacked with seven whiskey stills, sixty-six gallons of corn liquor, eight gallons of wine and eight hundred pounds of sugar. The mass arrest yielded thirty-one Somervell County moonshiners and bootleggers.

An image of James Aaron Watson in the mortuary.
Mortuary photograph of James Aaron “Dick” Watson. Image sourced from The Glen Rose Moonshine Raid, courtesy of Stacey Blanton and family of James Aaron Watson.

Murder

The ensuing trials became a media circus, and were front-page news throughout Texas. Dick Watson, the bootlegger turned Special Prohibition Agent, was the star witness in several trials, but was assassinated before he could provide testimony in all. In such a moonshine-friendly community, Watson’s friend the imposing Texas Ranger Red Burton couldn’t convince the grand jury to indict his suspects. No further cases related to the Glen Rose raids were filed.

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Texas and Civil War Blockades on the Gulf Coast

During the Civil War, was the fiercely independent frontier state of Texas in the Confederacy? It sure was! In fact, Texas played a larger role in the Civil War than most realize. Few would argue that Texas is part of the Deep South. Although “Dixie” isn’t really a word Texans use, many fought to preserve slavery in their state, leading to many colorful events on the waters of the Texas Gulf Coast, and adding another layer to the state’s colorful history.

Cotton was big business in Texas. Real estate speculators the Allen Brothers were so hell-bent on capitalizing on the versatile crop that they founded Houston on a major waterway with access to the Gulf of Mexico. Spanish and Mexican governments had built and maintained roads, but Texans built ports on waterways to maximize commerce. During the Texas Revolution and after Texas won her independence from Mexico in 1836, the new Republic of Texas captured the imaginations of Americans living in neighboring southern states. New Texans brought their plantation culture which relied on cotton and sugar as cash crops. In the 1840s and 50s, Galveston Island exploded as a major port for immigrants and commerce, while slavery remained integral to the success of cotton in Texas, which seceded from the U.S. to preserve that doomed practice.

In an effort to prevent Confederate commerce in the Gulf Coast, President Lincoln issued Proclamation No. 81, “Declaring a Blockade of Ports in Rebellious States” which stated that “a competent force will be posted so as to prevent entrance and exit of vessels from the ports aforesaid” in South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas. Any vessel that attempted to violate the blockade would be stopped. Immediately, Galveston had an unofficial army of lookouts for federal ships, and blockade running kept trade with other countries flowing.

To the Confederates that produce the cotton;
to the Yankees that maintain the blockade and keep up the price of cotton;
to the Britishers that buy the cotton and pay the high price for it.
Here is to all three, and a long continuance of the war,
and success to blockade runners.

A BLOCKADE RUNNER’S TOAST, AS RECORDED BY WILLIAM WATSON
An illustration of the USS South Carolina
USS South Carolina shells Galveston, August 1861. Image sourced from Civil War Blockade Running on the Texas Coast, courtesy of Leslie’s Famous Leaders and Battle Scenes of the Civil War, 1896.

The USS South Carolina arrived at Galveston in July 1861 to enforce the federal blockade. Her captain was nominally successful, halting several small sloops and schooners attempting to pass through Galveston. The U.S. Navy became increasingly successful in capturing or destroying runners, but blockaders grew bolder in their actions. In 1862, lookouts aboard the USS Montgomery spotted a large schooner anchored inside San Luis Pass. Shrewdly, the captain hoisted British and Confederate flags, and succeeded in taking the schooner’s crew by surprise.

An illustration of Watson's schooner Rob Roy.
Watson’s centerboard schooner Rob Roy. Image sourced from Civil War Blockade Running on the Texas Coast, illustration by Captain Byng, from The Adventures of a Blockade Runner, 1892.

Tricks were used by both sides — false signals, hidden cargoes, neutral flags and forged sailing papers were all part of the game played by blockade runners and the U.S. Navy. One of the most successful runners was Scotsman William Watson, who enlisted in the Confederate army at the onset of the Civil War. As a resident of Baton Rouge, Watson acquired a schooner, the Rob Roy, whose flat bottom was well suited for blockade running. Watson’s Rob Roy eventually made three round trips running the federal blockade into Texas.

A sketch of Union ships on the blockade off Galveston in October 1864. The key to identifying the ships has been lost, but the vessel at top left is probably the division flagship, USS Ossipee. Image sourced from Civil War Blockade Running on the Texas Coast, courtesy of Rosenberg Library.

In the final months of the Civil War, blockade running at Galveston peaked, as it was the only remaining Confederate port. Federal ships concentrated on the Texas coast as blockade runners arrived at Galveston at the rate of about one a week—at least twenty arrivals in all.

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Tales of the Texas Capitol Building

All Texans are proud of their Lone Star State, and one thing they all agree on is that Texas has the best capitol in the U.S. When the red granite structure was completed, it became the seventh-largest building in the world, even taller than the Capitol in Washington, D.C. Despite Austin’s quickly-changing skyline, the statehouse still dominates, with its grand scale remaining a durable symbol of Texas.

“The New Texas Capitol…One of the Finest State-House Buildings in the World…Constructed by a Chicago Syndicate, the Compensation Being a Tract of Land in the Lone Star State as Large as Connecticut and Comprising 3,000,000 Acres of Land—The Edifice Has Cost $4,000,000—It Will Be Dedicated in May with Imposing Ceremonies.” — Chicago Tribune, February 9, 1888

A sketch of the early Texas capitol.
Sketch of the capitol in use when Texas voters decided to keep the seat of government in Austin. Image sourced from Legends & Lore of the Texas Capitol, courtesy of the author.

Where’s the Capital?

In 1839, second president of Texas Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar got his wish to move the Republic of Texas capital from Houston to what is now Austin. Legislators had been grumbling about Houston’s weather from day one. First (and third) president Sam Houston would never forgive his political rival Lamar. In 1842, fearing attacks from Native Indians, President Sam Houston ordered the republic’s capital to be moved back to the city of Houston. Austinites howled and suspected the president was using this as a bid to restore the capital to his namesake town, and attempted to defend the relocation of documents. On January 1, 1843, the document defenders successfully prevented removal by firing a cannon at the rangers, and avoided bloodshed in the so-called Texas Archive War. See, librarians have heroes too!

An image of the Texas capitol dome during construction.
The capitol’s dome under construction. Image sourced from Legends & Lore of the Texas Capitol, courtesy of the author.

Crooked Capitol?

During the extensive renovation following the near-catastrophic capitol fire of 1983, architects discovered something odd. Turned out that nothing in the eighteen-acre building is totally plumb or square. Some measurements found column spacing off as much as six inches. Is hand craftsmanship to blame? Maybe it was the legislature’s rush to get their new home finished.

Just a Fancy Art Museum?

The 365,000-square foot original statehouse, and the 667,000-square-foot underground extension boasts an enviable collection of Texas art. In 1887, the Texas legislature created a board to purchase commissioned portraits of all of the Republic of Texas’s presidents and state governors (dating back to the Spanish colonial era). Today, the capitol is home to 275 paintings, 175 artworks on paper, and 25 sculptures. Such famous Texans depicted in the statehouse include The Father of Texas Stephen F. Austin, Sam Houston, another with General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna surrendering to a wounded General Sam after the Battle of San Jacinto, Alamo defender Davy Crockett, president Lyndon B. Johnson, congresswoman Barbara Jordan.

An image of President Lyndon B. Johnson and Lady Bird Johnson.
Lady Bird and future president Lyndon B. Johnson in Washington shortly after their wedding in 1934. They met at the Texas Capitol. Image sourced from Legends & Lore of the Texas Capitol, courtesy of Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library.

Capitol Meet Cute

University of Texas student Claudia Alta Taylor from the East Texas town of Karnack, while visiting Washington ,D.C., was given the name of a friend her girlfriend thought Taylor should meet. Taylor passed on the set-up, but fate would jump in. Months later in Austin, Taylor went from campus to the capitol to to visit a friend. When she walked in the office, she saw a tall, thin young man. She instantly recognized his name as the gent from Washington she’d previously passed on. The virtual stranger asked Claudia out, but this time she demurred in person. The next day, spotting her, he waved her down and convinced her to go out with him. That persistent gent was none other than Lyndon Johnson, future president of the United States.

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