Rio Grande Valley Ghosts

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
Rio Grande Valley Ghosts

The Rio Grande Valley, that fertile southernmost tip of Texas, covers four counties from the Gulf of Mexico along the Rio Grande, and ending where the topography becomes less green and more rocky. Indigenous people roamed the land for generations before the Spaniards claimed it. Mexico won its independence from Spain in 1821, and Anglo Settlers eventually tossed the Mexicans out in the Texas Revolution. The Rio Grande Valley, which is more of a figurative valley than an actual one, continued into the 20th century as a land of transition and conflict. Today, the RGV is home to plenty of historic landmarks that tell gruesome stories of the four groups that called the region home.

The Port Isabel Lighthouse before full restoration.
The Port Isabel Lighthouse before full restoration. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

The Port Isabel Lighthouse

What’s more scary than an abandoned lighthouse? Along the southern tip of Texas, for 100 years, the Port Isabel Lighthouse has been home to the ghosts of soldiers and cholera victims, and the so-called Lighthouse Angel. During storms, sailors claimed to see a halo around the lighthouse. While possibly explained by the combination of rain and rotating lamp (and good, old-fashioned wishful thinking), the angel story persisted. Today, visitors hear whispered warnings from an unseen source as they ascend the restored landmark.

“Danger there. Don’t go.” — Lighthouse Angel

The Colonial Hotel.
The Colonial Hotel. Courtesy of Alexis Tran.

The Colonial Hotel

Before Spanish colonists arrived, Brownsville, Texas had been populated by indigenous peoples, including the Lipan Apache. If you ever stay at the Colonial Hotel, then be vigilant in Room 101, where on average once a year, angry voices, sobbing, formless shapes, and, worst of all, hands reaching out from under the bed have been reported. In the Apache tradition, a desecrated enemy’s soul may seek justice wandering this world. A popular theory goes that multiple suicides of hotel guests were coaxed by an Apache warrior who had died on the site before the hotel was built.

Banner ad for Ghosts of the Rio Grande Valley.
The Devil’s Lagoon.
The Devil’s Lagoon. Courtesy of Alexis Tran.

The Devil’s Lagoon

The 1920s saw the development of small town San Perlita on the southern edge of the massive King Ranch. The site has plenty of marshes and lagoons, where some local native tribes believed souls would transfer between this world and the underworld. In 1850, along a poorly-maintained missionary road, a rickety wooden bridge collapsed, taking a bride and groom, along with their parents and the driver into the water, where they perished. Years later, a father and son were hunting in the lagoon, and were killed by the ghosts of the victims. Well, that’s the legend, as the two were never heard from again.

Shary Mansion.
Shary Mansion. Courtesy of Alexis Tran.

The Shary Mansion

Some guests never want to leave the party. In the case of the Shary Mansion, there are two host/ghosts still taking up residence. John Harry Shary made his fortune in the Rio Grande Valley’s warm climate as a citrus magnate. By 1915, his orchards made him the “Father of the Texas Citrus Industry.” His sprawling estate included the biggest mansion around. After a long and prosperous life, Shary was buried in a tomb on the grounds — perfect for a dapper ghost looking to have one more dance with his wife.

Buy Now!
Ghosts of the Rio Grande Valley book cover.

Héctor García: Legendary Veteran Advocate

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
Héctor García: Legendary Veteran Advocate

As the old saying goes, “not all heroes wear capes.” And even tough Sam Houston, the biggest hero in Texas, would occasionally don a cloak, this is true in the Lone Star State. Throughout the history of Texas, heroes of all kinds are found in politics, law enforcement, philanthropy, technology, and even singing on the radio! And then there are the Texas heroes who made their mark behind the scenes, avoiding the spotlight altogether. One such Texas hero is Dr. Héctor García.

The García family. Left to right, first row: Héctor, Antonio, Faustina (with Cuitlahuac on her lap), Jose, Emilia and Clotilde. Left to right, second row: Cuauhtemoc and Dalia.
The García family. Left to right, first row: Héctor, Antonio, Faustina (with Cuitlahuac on her lap), Jose, Emilia and Clotilde. Left to right, second row: Cuauhtemoc and Dalia. Courtesy of the García Papers, Texas A&M University.

Mexican Immigrant

As the 20th century began to take shape, the United States was emerging as a world power. And in those same years, Mexico was struggling with political infighting and social upheaval. Since Texas won its independence from Mexico in 1836, the relationship between Mexicans and Anglos was mostly poor. White Texans saw Mexicans a ethnically inferior, and ensured that Mexicans who immigrated to Texas remained second-class citizens.

Medical School

Héctor García was not content to let the status quo stand in his way of becoming a physician. Following a segregated education and an undergraduate degree from the University of Texas, García won admission to UT Medical Branch in Galveston, when only one Latino per year was admitted. García would go on to open a medical practice in Corpus Christi, where he sympathized with veterans and Mexican immigrants (he was both). He served the underserved for his entire career.

Captain Héctor P. García, MD, Medical Corps, North Africa, 1942.
Captain Héctor P. García, MD, Medical Corps, North Africa, 1942. Courtesy of the author’s collection.

Military Service

Like so many of the so-called Greatest Generation, Héctor García served his adopted country in World War II. And just like in South Texas, the US Army was segregated; but from 1935, as a commissioned infantry officer, until retiring in 1946 with the rank of captain, García served with pride, even winning The Bronze Star along the way. The next year, the Army awarded him the rank of major. Challenging the segregated system, Dr. García fought for his promotions.

“Education is our Freedom, and Freedom Should be Everybody’s Business.” — Héctor García

Dr. García standing before the banner of the newly formed American GI Forum of Texas.
Dr. García standing before the banner of the newly formed American GI Forum of Texas. Courtesy of the author’s collection.

American GI Forum

Not simply content to serve his community as a physician, García founded the American GI Forum in 1948, to help veterans organize, mobilize, and demand educational and medical benefits. When a local mortician refused to serve fallen soldier Felix Longoria, Dr. García made headlines, and got the attention of then-senator and future-president Lyndon Johnson. Both men sought equal citizenship rights and desegregated public schools for Mexican Americans. Eventually, the spotlight found Héctor García — President Reagan awarded García the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian award, making Dr. García the first Mexican American to receive that honor.

Buy Now!
The Inspiring Life of Texan Hector P. Garcia book cover.

Five Amazing Hoosier Jazz Musicians

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
Five Amazing Hoosier Jazz Musicians

Indiana, and Indianapolis in particular, boasts an incredible history of jazz music. There were wonderful places, Indiana Avenue and its many performance venues. But there were also wonderful artists. Here are five of the very best, even if some have been forgotten.

Ray Foster, a jazz vocalist who was a favorite at the annual Recorder Christmas shows.

1. Reginald DuValle

After Reginald DuValle graduated from Shortridge High School, in 1911, he landed an enviable spot as pianist in one of the hottest groups on or off the Avenue, the Russell Smith Orchestra. News of DuValle’s musical brilliance circulated throughout the region, and he started an orchestra, Reginald DuValle’s Blackbyrds, that played on the radio and performed in many famous venues. DuValle also mentored many up-and-coming music students, including a young Hoagy Carmichael. Years later, Carmichael remembered “a great black piano player named Reggie DuValle. He showed me the art of improvising, using the third and sixth of the chord as a basis for arpeggios.”

2. Phillip Arthur Ranelin

Phillip Arthur Ranelin’s biggest influence was his grandmother, Helen. She loved music and liked to reminisce about seeing such jazz luminaries as Duke Ellington and Miles Davis perform live. Helen also possessed an extensive record collection and exposed Ranelin to the world of jazz at an early age. (DuValle also mentored Ranelin.)  Ranelin became an exceptional trombonist, playing on the Indianapolis jazz circuit until he relocated to Detroit and eventually Los Angeles.

Buy Now & Discover Indianapolis Jazz History

3. Carl Perkins

Carl Perkins, a jazz giant whom Miles Davis regarded as his favorite pianist.

Carl Perkins was born in Indianapolis in 1928, the fourth of thirteen children in a family that struggled during the Great Depression. Yet his family still found ways to expose him to classical and jazz music, and he began tinkering on the family’s piano. “He never got a real piano music lesson,” his brother recalled, “’cause we didn’t have the money. . . . He just sort of picked it up on his own.” Perkins became a legendary player. His trademark was playing the piano with his left hand in a ninety-degree angle to the keyboard and using his elbow to play bass notes. He eventually moved to Los Angeles and played with Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis, who commented that Perkins was the greatest jazz pianist with whom he had ever performed.

4. Willis Kirk

Willis Kirk was born the same year as Perkins and went to the same high school, Crispus Attucks. He was playing drums on Indiana Avenue by the time he was 14. One night, he went to the Sunset Terrace Ballroom to see the Duke Ellington Orchestra, but Ellington’s drummer, Sonny Greer, was so drunk that he literally fell off the bandstand into the crowd. Ellington desperately needed a drummer, and a local pointed toward Kirk and said to Ellington, “This kid can play!” Kirk ended up playing the whole set with Ellington—the first of many incredible gigs that eventually led him to the jazz scene in San Francisco.

5. Hazel Johnson-Strong

Hazel Johnson-Strong, a jazz vocalist who performed with almost every group on the Avenue; with her husband, Mack Strong, she created a music program to train inner-city youth. Courtesy of Mack Strong.

In 1949, at the tender age of five, Hazel Johnson-Strong burst onto the local music scene, appearing on the widely popular children’s program The Talent Showcase, which aired on WFBM television channel 6. As she got older, she sang at many local jazz hot spots and performed with almost every major Avenue group. But an even more important part of her legacy started in 1994, when she and her husband founded the Inner City Music School, a vibrant program that provided music instruction to inner-city students who could not financially attend a music academy.

Buy Now & Discover More >>

Get into the music with David Leander Williams as he charts the rise and fall of Indiana Avenue, the Majestic Entertainment Boulevard of Indianapolis, which produced some of the nation’s most influential jazz artists. The performance venues that once lined the vibrant thoroughfare were an important stop on the Chitlin’ Circuit and provided platforms for greats like Freddie Hubbard and Jimmy Coe. Through this biography of the bustling street, meet scores of the other musicians who came to prominence in the avenue’s heyday, including trombonist J.J. Johnson and guitarist Wes Montgomery, as well as songwriters like Noble Sissle and Leroy Carr.

The Fire that Nearly Destroyed Fort Wayne’s Wolf and Dessauer

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
The Fire that Nearly Destroyed Fort Wayne’s Wolf and Dessauer

How Tragedy Hit the Department Store and Downtown Landmark

The Wolf and Dessauer Department Store opened its doors to the people of Fort Wayne in 1896—the same year Henry Ford ran his first motor car in Detroit. Wolf and Dessauer flourished, expanding from a two-story building to a four-story one, until it eventually owned a number of buildings in downtown Fort Wayne. The store offered its customers unheard of amenities: escalators, personal shoppers, and the magical Christmas WanDerland complete with Santa and his precious elf, Wee Willie WanD.

Eventually, Wolf and Dessauer built a new flagship location, a white, six-story terra-cotta building that was one of the largest retail establishments in Indiana. It gained the nickname of “the white elephant” and became the hub of downtown retail activity.

But in the middle of this success, the Wolf and Dessauer empire also suffered a terrible fire, one of the very worst in Fort Wayne history. The date was February 10, 1962—a bitterly cold one. But the fire quickly spread, filling the whole downtown area with smoke.

A crowd of people watches a fire at the Wolf and Dessauer department store.
A crowd gathered to watch the flames.

The first reports that came in claimed “W&D is on fire,” so the fire department understandably headed to the new store first. But the fire was elsewhere. Five downtown buildings, including several used by Wolf and Dessauer, were either leveled or severely damaged.

The cold turned the water necessary to fight the fire into ice, even as it came out of the hoses. Even so, the tireless efforts of the Fort Wayne firefighters prevailed, with the full force of the department being on the scene for more than twelve hours. Some rested for only a brief period, only to return a few hours later until the fire was resolved.

A firefighter ladder is extended towards a burning building as onlookers watch.
Firefighters extended their ladders to battle the raging fire.

It was reported that the fire chief of the time, Howard Blanton, said, “It wasn’t until nine thirty on Saturday night that the fire was brought under complete control.” This fire was reported by the Journal Gazette to be a multimillion-dollar disaster. It was touted to be the most devastating fire in the city’s history, needing 3 million gallons of water to put it out.

Onlookers watch the Wolf and Dessaur department store fire.
Another view of one of the largest fires in Fort Wayne history.

Wolf and Dessauer survived the fire, and business at “the white elephant” continued to thrive. What ended the W&D wasn’t a fire but something else: the store’s purchase, first by City Stores and then by L.S. Ayers, all while new retail trends slowly drew customers away from downtown.

The department store beat the 1962 fire. What it couldn’t beat was the suburban mall.

The Teenaged Spies of Notre Dame

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
The Teenaged Spies of Notre Dame

Two brothers played an important role in the Civil War

While many institutions of higher education made great sacrifices during the Civil War, few can boast of the dedication and effort made by the University of Notre Dame. For four years, Notre Dame gave freely of its faculty and students as soldiers, sent its Holy Cross priests to the camps and battlefields as chaplains, and dispatched its sisters to the hospitals as nurses.

But there’s a more surprising way Notre Dame contributed to the war, and it involves two young students named William A. Pinkerton and Robert A. Pinkerton.

Fort Wayne history books banner ad.

William and Robert were brothers, and while they didn’t join the army, the Pinkerton brothers shared an exciting war with their father, famed private investigator Allan Pinkerton. Pinkerton was a native of Scotland, but had immigrated to the United States in 1842 in his early twenties. A copper by trade, Pinkerton set up shop in the Chicago suburbs but soon became engaged and admired for his police work. He was attached to the Windy City’s police force for a short time before founding Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency in 1850 and earning nationwide recognition for foiling and solving railroad and express robberies.

His sons William and Robert were both enrolled at Notre Dame during the 1860–61 school year, where Robert was especially well regarded by his fellow students and the faculty; one of the Holy Cross brothers considered him “the best-natured boy in the [play]yard.” Many years later, William wrote to Notre Dame and recalled that he and Robert both had “the kindest remembrances for the dear old place and everyone connected with it.”

A photo of brothers William and Robert Pinkerton.
William (right) and Robert Pinkerton, sons of famed detective and Union spy Allan Pinkerton, were students at Notre Dame when the war started.

Despite their ages—Robert was only thirteen and William fifteen—the boys were as eager as any of their classmates to enlist. William was allowed to leave his studies and join his father—now chief of the Union army’s secret service operation—in the field, while Robert continued his studies at Notre Dame for two more years before joining his father and brother.

William delivered dispatches, escorted agents behind enemy lines, got a bird’s-eye view of the Confederate lines in one of Thaddeus Lowe’s observation balloons, and was wounded in the knee by an exploding artillery shell during the Battle of Antietam. In the latter years of the war, Pinkerton and his sons were assigned to the Mississippi Valley, where they investigated contracting and war claims fraud on behalf of the government.

After the war, the boys became engaged with their father’s detective agency and assumed control when the elder Pinkerton died in 1884.

Civil War history books banner ad.

The Great Circus Wreck of 1918

Yesterday's America Editorial Team
-
0
The Great Circus Wreck of 1918

Just before dawn, on June 22, 1918, a train chugged toward Hammond, Indiana. The engineer had drifted asleep, and he did not see that his train was bearing down on another, idle train. The two trains collided, leading to fires, explosions, and the death of eighty-six people. It was one of the worst train wrecks in American history, but it was also one of the strangest. Because those idle cars weren’t just any normal train—they were the train of the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus.

The Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus featured a number of famous performers, including the Cottrell-Powell English bareback riders and the Flying Wards, who specialized in a stunning high trapeze act. They traveled the country and were incredibly popular in the first part of the twentieth century.

The Cottrell-Powell English bareback riders. Courtesy Circus Hall of Fame.

To transport all of those performers, in addition to the animals and workers and big-top tent, the Circus traveled by train.

Unloading the circus somewhere in Vermont. Courtesy Miami County Museum

On June 22, that train was sitting idly when it was slammed by more than 150 tons of onrushing engine. In an instant, incoming locomotive began grinding and breaking everything in its path. Wall- and floorboards, frame timbers, bunks, fixtures, dividers, bedding and people were all added to that rolling mass of destruction. Some things and people were tossed aside, but most became part of the debris.

The wreck was terrifying for everyone involved. One story is Mayme Ward’s of the Flying Wards. Mayme was suddenly jolted out of a deep sleep. For one fleeting moment, she felt as if she were a contortionist. While she was on her back, her mattress had folded tightly and completely back; she was painfully aware that her feet were clear above her head, and she was in a rigid and immobile position. She heard someone ask in a strangled tone, “You all right?”

Mayme answered that she was and then said, “But I can’t move.”

Read more: The Great Circus Train Wreck of 1918: Tragedy on the Indiana Lakeshore

With the help of that person, Alexander Todd, she gradually was able to work her way out into the car’s aisle. A moment later, Todd also wriggled free. The floor was a mess of jagged splinters, but they did not notice it at the time. The roof of the car had slid down on their side, crushing the upper berth onto them.

The Flying Wards; Mayme Ward is the second girl from the right. Courtesy Miami County Museum.

Then Mayme heard a voice from above them saying, “Give me your hand. I’ll pull you up.” It was Charley Rooney, one of the bareback riders. As she went up, her long braided hair caught on projecting fragments of wood. “I didn’t know you were so heavy,” Rooney panted and then harshly jerked her up. Her hair parted company with her scalp, and she was suddenly up in the cool night air.

In the dim dawning light, she stared at chaos, utter chaos. Theirs was the fourth car from the end, not counting the caboose. Where were the other cars? What was all this mass of steel and smoke—and what was that ominous red glow that was beginning to crackle like a wooden bonfire? A numbing flash of pain struck Mayme, and she looked down at her feet. Every toe was dislocated; no two pointed in the same direction.

The wreckage pile pushed ahead of the troop train locomotive, which was still smoking when this photo was taken. Courtesy Hammond Public Library

Todd pushed her roughly. “Get up that way,” he gestured urgently, “and take care of yourself.” He then disappeared into the smoke, steel and sudden flames, paying no heed to the glass that slashed savagely at his bare feet. He was looking for his wife, in the berth opposite theirs. Shortly he found her and stumbled free of the debris with her limp, dead body in his arms.

Nearly ninety people died in the wreck, and close to two hundred were badly injured.

1...596061...67Page 60 of 67