My Cell Phone Is Magic!

November 1, 2008 by Jo Barrett
Filed under Blogs, The Glamorous Life / Jo Barrett

Lynn Ashby on Sam Houston and Bud Adams

November 1, 2008 by Lynn Ashby
Filed under Blogs, Hot Button / Lynn Ashby

If it needs cutting, I’ll do it.

Ashby gets historical at the mere mention of Sam Houston. He gets hysterical at the mere thought of Bud Adams.

By Lynn Ashby

The best kept secret around here is that Houston has a history. Oh, sure, it’s hard to compare our past to that of Boston or San Antonio, but we can best Dallas, Denver and Detroit without breaking a sweat. For Houston has been a national capital, survived two military invasions, on its doorstep has what historians call the ninth most important battle in history. This is where Houstonians could bump into someone who walked on the moon, been President of one country or another, or the richest man in the world.

We do not celebrate our history as do other cities, mainly because we don’t have much to point out. No Alamo or French Quarter, no crumbling ruins around the area, unless you count Galveston. In Houston, we put an historical plaque on anything that gets a second coat of paint. We consider old timers those who were here during the last smog alert. The Historical Society’s Guidebook opens with, “Our story begins in 1922 when the city’s first air conditioning was installed in the Rice Hotel cafeteria. Before that, Houston was totally unlivable.”

We live in one of the few cities which can identify the very day it was born. It was on Aug. 30, 1836, when two developers from New York, ran an ad: “There is no place in Texas more healthy, having an abundance of excellent spring water, and enjoying the sea breeze in all its freshness.” Ads were run in German newspapers touting the glories of Houston. In Hamburg, or maybe Brenan, I found some pamphlets that had been passed around the town back then. It showed Houston with snow-capped mountains in the background. Ski the Heights.

Why is Congress Street so named? Because when the Republic of Texas capital was Houston, the Capitol building was where the Rice Hotel now stands, which, in turn, was where our Congress met. You may have read that UH-Downtown, located in that big, red building, wants to change its name to something else. How about UH-Stalag? A Confederate POW camp for Yankees once sat on that spot.

How many presidents have lived in Houston? Five. It’s a trick question, sort of. We all know that George H.W. Bush is a resident and that George W. lived here during his wild bachelor days. Lyndon B. Johnson taught public speaking and was coach of the debate team at Sam Houston High School from 1930 to ’31. The two other presidents were Sam Houston and Mirabeau Lamar who were presidents of the Republic of Texas when its capital was in Houston.

Yes, History ‘R’ Us. Everyone knows about the Battle of San Jacinto, but we may forget that both the Mexican and Texian armies marched across Harris County to get to the battlefield. Santa Anna’s forces came from San Antonio and the Battle of the Alamo, marching roughly down today’s I-10, through downtown and on to San Jacinto. The Texian Army came from the northwest through Hempstead cut due south to the Heights and then east to the battlefield.

There was no Houston when Santa Anna’s army passed through, only Harrisburg, which he burned, but on the broad median of Bellaire Blvd. at Second Street is a Texas Historical Monument noting that “in this vicinity” on April 18, 1836, Deaf Smith and some other Texas scouts captured three Mexicans — Capt. Miguel Bachiller, a courier and a guide. Between questioning the three, and papers they carried, Smith learned all about Santa Anna’s army, strength, position and battle plans.

On Christmas Eve of 1837 word arrived in Houston that the Mexican Army was returning here. Among those who joined the instant militia was a new arrival, William Marsh Rice. As Houston was the capital, we had embassies here. The U.S. ambassador, a Mr. Labranche who lived in “a good cabin,” offered “protection of the flag if necessary” to his Texas friends. This story may explain how LaBranch Street got its name although with a different spelling.

A Houston newspaper editor, Dr. Francis Moore, got elected to the Republic of Texas Senate and worked for an anti-dueling law. Sen. Oliver Jones labeled it, “An Act for the Protection of Cowards.” The measure became law and until 1939 all Texas officials had to swear an oath that they had never taken part in a duel.

William Sydney Porter, aka O. Henry, lived while writing for The Houston Post.

In the early 1920s, Clark Gable worked for a winter stock company in Houston, but he could not conquer his stage fright. The show’s producer recalled, “Rehearsals went smoothly enough, but performances for him were a nightmare: his jaw became rigid, he forgot his lines, cold sweat beaded his forehead.” Gable was fired.

Then there were the Camp Logan Riots, one of the worst race riots and military mutinies in American history. It happened during World War I, but you can still see the streets where the angry black soldiers of the Third Battalion Twenty-fourth United States Infantry broke from their camp in what is now Memorial Park. It was a full force race riot. The ringleaders were later court martial led, hanged and buried at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio under tombstones with no names, only numbers.

Finally in our Houston history lesson, consider a fellow named Charles Hedenberg who persuaded an uncle living in New Jersey to come here to set up a carriage shop in the 1830s. The uncle arrived one morning and transferred his bags to his nephew’s business, Hedenberg and Vedder. Charles was quite busy at the time, so he suggested that his uncle go over to the Capitol and watch Congress in action.

The uncle agreed and went to the Capitol, whereupon he heard gunshots. He rushed to a hallway just in time to see Algernon Thompson, a Senate clerk, being carted off. Thompson had been severely wounded by another clerk. The uncle had seen enough of Texas government in action, so he left the Capitol and walked down the west side of Main Street.

As he passed the Round Tent Saloon, inside, one Texian soldier shot another. The wounded soldier staggered out and almost fell on the New Jerseyian. He ran across the street and arrived at John Carlos’ Saloon. Just then a man fell out of the saloon with his bowels protruding from a huge wound made by a Bowie knife. The newcomer raced back to his nephew’s store and asked, “Charley, have you sent my trunks to the house?”

“No, uncle. Not yet.”

“Well, do not send them. Get me a dray so I can at once take them to the boat that leaves for Galveston this afternoon.”

“Why, Uncle, what do you mean? You have seen nothing; have not had time to look at the town.”

“Charley,” said the uncle, “I have seen enough. I wish to return home immediately. I do not wish to see any more of Texas.” With that, he left, never to return.

And they say Houston has no history.

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