Deep Water Tells the Story of Beaumont and its Port

Deep Water: The story of Beaumont and its Port was released by Donning Publishers and the Port of Beaumont last week. A schooner's chance encounter while escaping a storm helped found one of the most vital ports in the United States. It was fueled by the discovery of oil at Spindletop, transforming a sleepy little timber town an industrial Mecca. In just a few years, extensive railroad connections, new refineries and pipelines lined the Neches River. Sophisticated wharves and docks replaced the natural wharves., And since its recognition as a deepwater port in 1916, the Port of Beaumont has worked diligently to expand and improve its facilities furthering its role as a major partner in worldwide commerce. But its road to deep water was not an easy one—and not without some worthy tales to tell from the process.

Port Houston—a Story of Sheer Will

The Port of Houston has rolled out its new brand—Port Houston, the "International Port of Texas." Consequently, I offer this shameless promotion of Sheer Will: The Story of the Port of Houston and the Houston Ship Channel. In it you will find just about everything you need to know why the Port of Houston is arguably the most crucial port in the United States today. Click the image below for a link to Amazon where you can order hard copies or digital.

 

Haunted Bellaire

Bedtime stories from three older brothers around Halloween did not make for comforting sleep. And back when we lived in the City of Bellaire, Texas on Saxon Street, their favorite was the story of Kuan-timi-ti. But first, a little background.

Before there was a Bellaire, before Westmoreland Farms (the property on which Bellaire was founded), perhaps even before Texas, an Indian burial ground was said to be in this area. Exactly where no one seems to know (so far), not even Mike McCorkle, co-author of Life and Times Around Bellaire, Texas. According to one of my brothers, however, it was once off Bissonnet. Nevertheless, the burial ground lay somewhere in the city limits, and belonged to a cannibalistic tribe.

As the story was told, a nightly veil of gloomy fog blanketed the cemetery. A mysterious blue light moved erratically about the grounds in a seemingly endless search—for what or who, no one knows. It meandered without really going anywhere, yet never stopping. This was the spirit of Kuan-timi-ti, though nobody seems to remember who he was or how he died. Still, the legend warned that anyone caught in the cemetery at night was decapitated, and their heads randomly left upon gravestones.

If that weren't enough, there are other stories from more credible source. Take Buster Adams, Parks Superintendent with the City of Bellaire, he mentions a story from the old recreation center that was torn down around 1990*. On or about the night before its demolition, some kids broke in to do whatever kids do when they break into a condemned building. As the story goes, one kid never got out—having met his demise along with that of the building.

As a result, it’s said he haunts the current center. “I’ve heard and seen some things that don’t make sense,” Mr. Adams confides.

“It started back in the days when we had Midnight Madness. Afterward, another guy and I walked through the building to clean up and lock it down. We’d start from the back and work forward, turning off lights and securing everything. Toward the back is a water fountain with a trigger that sticks. We came up on it and it was running. We shut it off, as we usually do, and did our sweep back up to the front. 

"Then, we thought we heard a voice and some rustling coming from the back. We went to check and that’s when we saw the fountain running." 

Adams explained the faulty handle meant the fountain couldn’t come on by itself. It had to be manually reset. Also, both men had been in each other’s company, and they knew no one else was in the building.

Adams detailed other incidents, including a night that a surveillance camera captured an apparition. He described a pair of lights, one atop the other, dancing across mirrors. “These mirrors don’t line up with any windows out to the streets,” Adams insisted. “I double checked the angles and nothing panned out.” Again, it took place in the back part of the building. He also reiterated that he and his partner knew the building was empty. “We travel in pairs after hours, and once it’s locked up, it’s locked up,” Adams said.

You might also check Secret Histories for the story on the old haunted convent in Bellaire. And if you have a Bellaire ghost story, leave a comment here.

*Taken from an interview conducted in 2004.

Handbook of Houston features two Falloure entries

The Texas State Historical Association website features two new entries penned by Falloures for the Handbook of Houston (history). One entry is on the City of Bellaire founder William Wright Baldwin. It is based primarily on research conducted by David A. Falloure for his 2012 Eagle Scout project. I am privileged to have worked with him to complete this entry. 

The second entry is about the South End Land Company, the entity responsible for land sales in Bellaire, Tx, as well as what is claimed to be the first master planned community located in Houston, Texas—the Westmoreland Addition in the city's Montrose area.

The Handbook of Houston is an effort by TSHA to highlight Houston area history. The main site can be found at https://tshaonline.org/handbook.  

In Defense of the Electoral College

Some years ago, the late Molly Ivins wrote a column titled, “In Support for Democracy.” In it she put forth the tired idea of eliminating the Electoral College, “a toxic piffle.” in her words, to defend American democracy. I took issue with it then, and I take issue with it now as other voices sound off against our electoral process. First, the Electoral College is a thoughtful methodology developed by our nation’s forefathers to protect the rights of voters in sparsely populated states. For two centuries, the heavily populated districts have conspired to dominate and suppress the vote of states with less congestion. Simply, the metropolitan electorate does not trust nor value the heartland electorate, leading to the second point—America is not a democracy.

Okay, it is, but in the form of a representative republic. The last pure democracies were in the Greek city-states. But in pursuit of “democracy” Ms. Ivins’ argument, like those still carrying that idea, was based on the idea of giving small states a voice in national elections using the popular vote. Ah, but there’s the rub. In a national popular vote, small communities would never have a voice. The major metropolitan centers would be the deciders of every election due to sheer mass in population. That is the reason for the Electoral College: to provide balance and fairness in national elections. If we relied on raw numbers for presidential elections, then a mummified FDR would still sit in office.

Arguments persist that campaigning in non-swing states is minimal at present. Go ahead and eliminate the Electoral College, then watch the money and focus really shift solely to the big cities and states on the East and West coasts. New York City, for instance, has more than 8.5 million citizens, which is about a third the population of Texas (27 million), equivalent to twice the combined populations of Colorado (5-million) and Iowa (3-million), and more than ten times the entire state population of South Dakota (853,000). The state population for New York is over 19-million people. Combined with a California population of almost 39-million, those two states alone account for almost 20 percent of the national vote. Just two states equivalent to one-sixth the national population!

Get the picture yet? 

Without the checks and balances in our electoral process, states such as Iowa and South Dakota would never see their votes have an impact. Their voices and issues would never be heard or raised. The heavy-metro states would forever hoard the national debate. Even now, how much attention is given to the fly-over states? Only during elections do the opinions of the Midwest, South and Southwest matter. Without the Electoral College, those voices could never be heard.

Beyond that, the anti-Electoral College contingent complains that congressional re-elections have created “lifelong positions.” They are dead right on that single point, which is supported by the presence of the long-since-ripened Congressmen John Conyers and Charles Rangel, or Thad Cochran and Don Young. 

That aside, it often appears that when a Republican threatens to win an election, there are those who want to dispense with the Electoral College and go strictly with the popular vote. That opinion always shifts when it’s a Democratic candidate ahead in the polls or in the Oval Office. Certainly the cries against the electoral procedures were silent in 1993 when Bill Clinton sneaked into office with a mere plurality rather than a majority of the popular vote. For Clinton supporters, Electoral College certainly served its function then.

To some, the Electoral College represents a “nightmare scenario.” Why is understandable. Representative government stands firmly in the path of any one political concern’s desire to dominate the national government. That’s frustrating for people who are convinced they know what’s good for other people. Thank God and thank the founding fathers for keeping the electoral playing field at least a little more level so that neither position ever fully rules.

It's Talk Like a Pirate Day

Avast, matey—on this Talk Like a Pirate Day, ya be advised to read this tale...aarr.

A City on Stilts: Galveston 1902-1912

Once again, Gulf Coast communities are ransacked by nature—it's a fact of life, reiterated by recent flooding in Louisiana, echoing disasters like Catrina, Rita, and Ike, or even older storms like Carla and the fateful 1900 storm. The anniversary of the latter approaches, and to illustrate the resolve of human spirit exhibited by Third Coast inhabitants, this piece is offered. 

The San Louis, the Schlitterbahn, and Moody Gardens are a few of the attractions many come to see and enjoy on Galveston Island. But few realize that the real attraction is right under their feet—the island itself. Galveston is a quiet monument to human spirit, sheer will, and an engineering feat comparable to anything in modern times.

The morning after the 1900 storm obliterated Galveston.

It’s a well-documented event—in 1900, a storm assaulted upper Texas coast, virtually obliterating the city of Galveston, killing almost 6000 people while erasing the center of commerce for the American southwest. Despite the catastrophe—which remains the worst natural disaster in US history­­—survivors refused to abandon their homes, determined to rebuild amidst disease, devastation, and death.

Technology was seen as the solution to every problem at the dawn of the 20th century. So Galvestonians devised an audacious and ingenious plan to protect the island from a similar disaster ever happening again: They would hold nature at bay with a 17-foot wall against the sea while raising the ground level of the entire city.

One section of sea wall from the island perspective.

One of the most impressive engineering feats ever attempted, they walled off the entire city; raised nearly every house, church, office building, even trees––all by as much as 17 feet. In her book, Against the Tide: The Battle for America's Beaches, author Cornelia Dean describes the lifting operation as one of sheer brawn.

“Laborers ran beams under the buildings and mounted them on screwjacks that burly men turned by hand. In this way, 2,156 buildings were laboriously hoisted, a quarter of an inch at a turn, until they reached the requisite height and new foundations could be built beneath them. Meanwhile, children climbed rickety catwalks to reach their schools; housewives hung their laundry from lines strung fifteen feet above the ground.”

Massive and heavy brick buildings such as the three hundred ton St. Patrick's Church were heaved into the air. Galvestonians attended masses amid the grunts of laborers muscling two hundred screwjacks below—in unison like so many oarsmen of a Roman galleon.

The result was akin to a titanic concrete form with every structure hovering over the emptiness within. That form was then flooded with silt. Even in an era of Herculean engineering, this daring plan stood out for its size, cost, and audacity. Elevated boardwalks were constructed to allow people to get around the city, which led to the nickname, "a city on stilts."

Fill was pumped below raised homes and buildings.

These projects were all in progress when Zeva Bradshaw Edworthy (1883-1954) photographed the island. This Kansas native came to Galveston in 1904, at the height of the city’s rebuilding period. The exhibit will feature his photography showing everyday street scenes, people swimming and visiting amusement parks, and the rebuilding efforts going on throughout the city. Galvestonians were simply dealing with extraordinary loss and the hardships of daily living. But these still found strength to celebrate life—they would swim at the beach or ride a Ferris wheels.

If Galveston symbolizes anything, it is the power of the human spirit to fuel perseverance and change.