Today is the day, and I will post information all day on our experiences on the tour.
#ICYMI Here is what to expect on this tour and the dos and don’t’s. Hope to see you along the way!
When taking a historic homes tour, you should have a plan.
1. Each ticket is valid for one visit to every house on both weekends. If you can go both weekends, taking the tour with family and friends is a great experience. However, if you only have one weekend or even only one day, then it is better to take the tour with no more than three people. Long lines can be an obstacle. One year I took the opening-day tour solo, and there was a point when I passed in front of 14 people because they only had enough room for one more person in the group.
2. Some of the houses are in the same neighborhood, so have a plan to park centrally. You will be able to walk to multiple places without wasting time looking for a parking spot for the various destinations.
3. NO HEELS! I should have put this up top. This is the one thing I’ve never understood. Why would someone wear heels on a home tour that involves walking upstairs and on lovely restored floors? If you do wear heels, you’ll end up walking through some stranger’s house shoeless. There was an instance when a homeowner had their beautiful restored floor damaged by someone who chose not to wear comfortable shoes. The money raised by the tour paid for the floor to be restored once more.
4. Booties! Speaking of shoes, it is always inevitable to have one house on the tour that doesn’t want you, prancing around in heels or people walking on their newly restored floors. I get it, restoration is expensive! But then why have your home on the tour? Anyway, I digress. This will undoubtedly slow down the number of people taking the tour. So, there may be some waiting time.
5. It may be better to visit popular homes, such as the cover house, at the opening, during lunchtime, or close to the last tour (six in the afternoon). I’ve found that these times have fewer lines.
6. Volunteers. Most of the people checking your ticket, selling you the excellent wares that the Galveston Historical Foundation (GHF) has to offer, and who are stationed throughout the property are all volunteers. This means they are not getting paid. The white shirt-black pants army is there to keep the tour rolling and help you visit these beautiful homes. I say this because when you find yourself in a line, know that most of these people are doing the best they can to give you a great experience. Concerning the historical knowledge of these places, I am looking forward to seeing what the GHF will offer its volunteers. One year, I volunteered to be a docent on the front porch and all I got was a 3 x 5 index card of information. I will admit that it has finally gotten better!
7. Visit the Old City Cemetery! The wildflowers are lovely and a great photo opportunity for photographers.
8. Make sure to look for the cemetery tours hosted by Kathleen Maca. They sell out fast! The reason is that she is a great storyteller and has written several books on Broadway’s prominent cemetery.
Lately, I’ve been spending time and money on my Audible account. I’ve downloaded audiobook after audiobook—mostly World War II biographies but with a few lighter reads on plagues, pestilences, and musicians. I’m still recovering from the bio of Dave Mustaine (Megadeth’s front man) on life on heroin, hating Metallica, and edging on the Northern Irish into a riot. It’s a good read, but I’m still detoxing from the amount of heavy drug use it contained. And I won’t even get into Nikki Sixx’s book The Dirt!
I finished two books this week, and I highly recommend both. The first is called Watching Darkness Fall by David McKean. It describes the situation in Europe leading up to WWII and the four American diplomats who witnessed it firsthand. I’ll admit that this book brings out my hatred for Joe Kennedy almost as much as my views on MacArthur and Roosevelt. Maybe I’ll get into that one day, but I want to discuss the next read.
The second book was Brothers in Arms by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (yes, that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Anthony Walton. The subtitle reads The Epic Story of the 761st Tank Battalion, WWII’s Forgotten Heroes. The 761st was the first Black mechanized battalion in the army and the first of its kind to see action in WWII. The book follows the struggles, tribulations, and racial discrimination of these soldiers from their training in Louisiana and Texas to being hand-picked by General George S. Patton to fight in his Third Army. And fight they did. They went up against elite Panzer divisions and endured a casualty rate of 40 percent. In the end, they broke the Siegfreid Line, advanced through many German cities, and liberated the concentration camp in Gunskirchen, Austria. In the movie Patton, you will see a tank division advancing across the Rhine River. That was the 761st, but for some reason, some idiot decided to use white actors instead of giving an accurate account of these fighting men. I’ll leave a link to a documentary that provides a complete picture of the 761st below.
The 49th Annual Galveston Historic Homes Tour begins next week, and I want to give a few details about what to expect for the first two weekends of this May event. There are ten houses/properties on the tour (the 1920 City National Bank building is not a house, but it was on previous tours; I hope to see it fully restored). No word on the booty call. Last year there were five houses where you needed to wear booties, and that took a lot of time. Not knowing more about the properties where I will not be volunteering could be a problem, so stay tuned. My house is small and has only one story, so it should be fine.
When taking a historic homes tour, you should have a plan because the ticket is only good for the first two weekends in May. The ticket costs $45. Since 2012, my plan has been to take the tour on the first Saturday and then volunteer on the first Sunday with the Candy Lady. I will post my views during Saturday’s tour and hopefully guide you in visiting the different properties. With that said, I will now offer my guidance to my friend Wanda because she is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Each ticket is valid for one visit to every house on both weekends. If you can go both weekends, taking the tour with family and friends is a great experience. However, if you only have one weekend or even only one day, then it is better to take the tour with no more than three people. Long lines can be an obstacle. One year I took the opening-day tour solo, and there was a point when I passed in front of 14 people because they only had enough room for one more person in the group.
Some of the houses are in the same neighborhood, so have a plan to park centrally. You will be able to walk to multiple places without wasting time looking for a parking spot for the various destinations.
NO HEELS! I should have put this up top. This is the one thing I’ve never understood. Why would someone wear heels on a home tour that involves walking upstairs and on lovely restored floors? If you do wear heels, you’ll end up walking through some stranger’s house shoeless. There was an instance when a homeowner had their beautiful restored floor damaged by someone who chose not to wear comfortable shoes. The money raised by the tour paid for the floor to be restored once more.
Booties! Speaking of shoes, it is always inevitable to have one house on the tour that doesn’t want you, Wanda, prancing around in heels or people walking on their newly restored floors. I get it, restoration is expensive! But then why have your home on the tour? Anyway, I digress. This will undoubtedly slow down the number of people taking the tour. So, there may be some waiting time.
It may be better to visit popular homes, such as the cover house, at the opening, during lunchtime, or close to the last tour (six in the afternoon). I’ve found that these times have fewer lines.
Volunteers. Most of the people checking your ticket, selling you the excellent wares that the Galveston Historical Foundation (GHF) has to offer, and who are stationed throughout the property are all volunteers. This means they are not getting paid. The white shirt-black pants army is there to keep the tour rolling and help you visit these beautiful homes. I say this because when you find yourself in a line, know that most of these people are doing the best they can to give you a great experience. Concerning the historical knowledge of these places, I am looking forward to seeing what the GHF will offer its volunteers. One year, I volunteered to be a docent on the front porch and all I got was a 3 x 5 index card of information. I will admit that it has finally gotten better!
Visit the Old City Cemetery! The wildflowers are lovely and a great photo opportunity for photographers.
Make sure to look for the cemetery tours hosted by Kathleen Maca. They sell out fast! The reason is that she is a great storyteller and has written several books on Broadway’s prominent cemetery.
Until next week, I believe shiplap will be in our future, and if you complain about seeing shiplap, then you shouldn’t have paid $45 for a historic homes tour—but I digress.
I hit a milestone of sorts. This week is the first anniversary of “Thoughts and Ramblings” and my return from a two-year hiatus. I am genuinely amazed at this milestone—not because of the content (we all know some of it was a bit thin on occasion), but because I made it through a whole year without missing a week. This is how the blog was supposed to be when it began. However, back then, it was hard to stick to this routine because I wanted to do thorough research on each subject, and there is not a snowball’s chance in hell that can happen in a week. The houses and events that I covered fit into this type of schedule, but they also took time away from research. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed most of the events, but there is a reason I’m on the historical commission and not in a historical society: I am not social! But covering those things was fun.
Vuylsteke House
In the blog’s early years, I wanted to promote our area’s historic homes and museums. I felt that there was not much promotion out there for the smaller venues, and people in our area would rather travel 500 miles to look at a giant ball of string than walk across the street to one of our local museums. And let’s be honest, who has heard of the Vuylsteke House? I grew up in Port Arthur and never heard of it because nobody promoted it. Luckily, Sydalise Fredeman saved the Pompeiian Villa, which I eventually toured in second grade. It was another forty years until I visited it again. During that visit, the docent mentioned that I should also tour the Vuylsteke House. There was not a lot of promotion back then. Some kind of information should’ve been out there, but it wasn’t in 2012. In 2023, there is a lot more promotion of these houses and museums, and I’m happy that people are getting the word out. It’s not perfect, but they are learning.
Although not weekly, I did post some finished and ongoing stories throughout the years. I enjoyed every bit of the hours and money spent learning and uncovering the history and lore of our SETX. A few topics that triggered me at the time (and still do) are the interurban train, the Sabine Lighthouse, the Rowleys, the Chambers House Museum, Florence Stratton (of course), Hugo DeBretagne, Marine Scout Bomber Squadron 931 (VMSB-931), Magnolia Cemetery, Jeanette Catherina Stengele, Miss Jack McDonough, Wong Shu, and two people for whom I have the utmost respect: Kichimatsu Kishi (the Kishi colony) and William D. Quick, a researcher whom I never met. All their stories can be found on my blog: www.rediscoveringsetx.com.
On April 11, 2022, I posted my first “Thoughts and Ramblings.” It was basically a memorial to Florence, Bill Quick, and Jerry Burnett. Jerry was my insurance agent/go-to interurban train person. We would spend hours talking about trains and Port Arthur’s history. He died in October of 2021, and I still miss him.
From that post onward, the blog changed to a much easier format that talks about what I’m researching and what was happening at the time. This allowed me to post some weekly interesting stories and give updates on ongoing projects. I could also ramble on and mention some of my beloved nonsense, including Tankery, anime, and the Mari Lwyd. Do not be mistaken, they were strategically placed six to eight months in advance because 秋山 優花里 Akiyama Yukari, 紺野木綿季 Yuuki Konno, and the Mari Lwyd are dear to me. I will admit that Yukari is one of my spirit animals. I have four. The other three are Oscar the Grouch, Margaret Hamilton, and Bunny Rabbit from the Captain Kangaroo show. As a kid growing up without a Leave It to Beaver family, my inspiration came from the first three, but Yukari triggered my triggerness. “Panzer Vor!”
I finished the book about the history of yellow fever that was recommended to me by two friends. With all these GPR surveys lately, I thought I should get up to date on this disease. It is an excellent read if you are into this type of history. Still, if you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip this read because it describes exactly what happened to all the victims and the brave doctors, scientists, and volunteers who dealt with this epidemic. The only happy ending is that they found what spread the disease, and thanks to their sacrifice, you aren’t dying of yellow fever in 2023. This was a different epidemic compared to the Spanish flu or COVID-19. The book is The American Plague by Molly Caldwell Crosby. Again, this is a must-read if you are into this type of history. Also, for those who have read it, we know—the band Toto was wrong. We don’t miss the rains down in Africa because that’s how it all started!
Well, the Tall Ships Galveston Festival took place this weekend, and I was there on Saturday. I may have an evening edition on that today. It depends on whether I have one of those Mama Teresa’s Flying Pizza slumbers while I wait for the ferry. Shout-out to Mama Teresa. That is my go-to place while waiting to board the ferry. Hurricane Ike destroyed the restaurant at Crystal Beach, but Mama Teresa’s pizza is still flying in Galveston!
Speaking of Galveston, we are three weeks away from the 49th Annual Historic Homes Tour, and I will be putting out a list of what not to do on the tour. It’s for Wanda only because she seems to always get this wrong. No high heels—there will be booties—and remember the long lines in the sun! Everyone else knows this, but she always seems to forget.
Last week was an experience, to say the least. I left my house at five thirty in the morning, and I thought that would give me enough time to make it to the shipyard in Galveston by around seven thirty, but boy, was I wrong. Everything was on time until I was about five minutes away from the ferry, then Wanda happened. And it happened at five miles below the speed limit. I didn’t pass on her because I’ve had great luck with the ferry lately, but this will never happen again. We finally boarded the ferry at around 7:38 a.m., but my tour was at eight, so I was still simmering from the delay—at least we were moving. While on the ferry, I noticed that my weekly Sunday morning post hadn’t appeared on Facebook. Everything was business as usual on WordPress, but Facebook does its own thing. After arriving home, I discovered that the post was scheduled for seven in the evening instead of in the morning. I had scheduled it the night before, and I always have issues with Facebook, so this is the last time I’ll schedule a post on Facebook when I’m sober, but I digress.
I made it to the shipyard by around 8:05 a.m., although it was off to the races on Broadway Avenue and Pelican Island Causeway to make it there. To be honest, that black Ford F-150 in front of me was going at least 70 mph. Not sure what he was late for, but it was most likely dropping someone off at the cruise ship.
The tour was excellent, and the docent nicely explained the historical background of the last dreadnought. Also, it’s always a good thing when you have someone who knows the work being done and points out the process of how it’s actually done. These tours are held every Sunday from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon. You must sign up for them through the Texas Batteship Foundation’s website, but please don’t do what I did and think that there is only one tour at eight in the morning, because if you do, you may find that Wanda is lurking out there to make you late.
Okay, now let us delve into the history of Old Hoodoo, and my propaganda about why it should come to Beaumont.
The USS Texas is a New York-class battleship that was approved by Congress in 1910, laid down in 1911, launched in 1912, and commissioned in 1914. It was the first ship to have ten 14-inch guns. While it was the most potent weapon in the world at the time, as they say, today’s powerful weapon is tomorrow’s outdated pea shooter. The USS Texas served in World War I and World War II, during which it escorted war convoys across the Atlantic. It shelled the enemy in Normandy on D-day and provided naval gunfire support during the battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. Serving in two world wars, the ship suffered only one casualty in the line of duty—Christen Christensen, the helmsman on duty on June 25, 1944, in Cherbourg, France. The Texas was firing on German positions in the port when an enemy 24-cm shell skidded over the top of the conning tower and exploded. Eleven seamen were injured in the blast, but Christensen succumbed to his wounds.
The USS Texas was decommissioned in 1948 and was the first permanent battleship memorial museum in the United States. The museum operated under the direction of the Battleship Texas Commission, which the Texas Legislature established to care for the ship’s safe upkeep. In 1983, the ship was turned over to the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department due to mismanagement and neglect by the leadership of the Battleship Texas Commission. The Texas was moved to a dry dock for repairs in 1988.
This brings us to the past few years. Over time, the Texas has taken in water. This has been bad—about 1,500 gallons per minute bad. However, two years ago, the foundation that now runs the Texas agreed to put foam in the hull to reduce the leakage. The water intake went from 1,500 to 50 gallons per minute. This is good news for a stationary ship, but if you’ve seen the video of the vessel being moved, you’ll know that there were a lot of nervous people on that day. The Texas could have sunk. Fortunately, the ship made it to dry dock, where it is today.
As far as I know, they are only considering three places to relocate the USS Texas: Beaumont, Baytown, and Galveston. All three have good and bad points. Ultimately, though, the most important thing is what is best for the ship. First and foremost, it will be out of dry dock no later than June 1, 2023. After that, we will not know where the Battleship Texas Foundation plans to dock the vessel until the chosen city can begin construction on its part of the agreement. I am certain that they have a plan, but I find it odd that they hadn’t already made a decision.
So, what are the pros and cons of each proposed site? Certainly, Galveston is the most popular tourist attraction, but it is hard to get to. If the ship was moored along Interstate 10, it would be much easier to reach. That is a plus for Baytown and Beaumont. Another problem is keeping the vessel in salt water. Recently, I was told that this would not be a problem if the maintenance was kept up, but if history repeats itself, I am concerned. Based on my little knowledge of Galveston politics, I do know that they would want a piece of the pie, so to speak. I assume that the money raised by the Battleship Texas Foundation is for the upkeep and maintenance of the ship, and it should stay that way. I do not know if Baytown or Beaumont will be seeking a cut of the profits other than what the tourists would bring in. Finally, I am biased and will state that, in Beaumont, the water, although not pure, is not salty. There is a lot of potential to make this a great place to visit.
In the end, it probably will come down to politics. Still, I hope the powers that be will consider making sure that a Texas treasure is preserved. The ship is the last of its kind, and it needs to be protected.
November is here, and we’re not going to talk turkey all month; you’re welcome. October is a trigger month for me, and I brought up many things that are not technically SETX history, but I guess you get what you pay for on my site. But really, who else would bring up an anime character on a SETX regional history blog? Especially when your target audience is people aged 35–112. I acknowledge that I may not be the brightest star in the sky. Truth be told, I had been waiting six months to bring up Yuuki! And I may not be finished. If there’s ever a time when we can bring up the history of tanks and tankery in general, I will definitely bring up Yukari Akiyama 秋山 優花里 from the Girls und Panzer series. She was a true historian of tanks. Hell, she was a fan of Sergeant Oddball. So, if you disagree, “don’t hit me with them negative waves so early in the morning. Think the bridge will be there and it will be there. It’s a mother, beautiful bridge, and it’s gonna be there. Ok?”
Well, let’s bring up tanks for a moment. If anyone knows the story of who owns the tank that used to be at the Beaumont airport on Highway 90, I would love to hear it, and a ride would be nice.
On Wednesday, I was at Magnolia Cemetery playing hooky from work because that’s what you do when you get fed up, but I’m self-employed, so. Oh well. I was looking for someone’s loved one, who died in 1917. I was also there to meet a friend to talk about the twenty-two World War I veterans brought back and interred in Magnolia. But in my search, I also found another veteran who fought in World War II. I remembered his name and story from a Port Arthur News article in the Jefferson County Historical Commission files.
Hans Max Keiling immigrated from Germany in 1956. His story should be a movie, as he is one of those immigrants who loved this county for its freedom. I wish I had heard how he got here in his own words, but I will use newspaper articles and a friend’s recollection of his speech at the dedication of the World War II prisoner of war camp in China, Texas.
Hans was from Frankfurt an der Oder, a German town on the Oder river, near the Polish border. He was drafted into the German army and became a master sergeant and a tank commander at twenty-three. He never served in the S.S. In his newspaper article, he stated he only fought the Russians and never faced the Americans. From what I know of the Russian front, it was a nightmare of logistics during which everyone waited for Der Failüre to see how many soldiers would die to hold at all costs some land they shouldn’t have taken in the first place. Keiling did his duty, but when the Germans surrendered, he ended up in Russian hands and was put in a labor camp near Stalingrad, where he spent three and a half years working in a coal mine fourteen hours a day.
From here. I’ll quote the rest of the article, but I find his message of freedom and democracy in many stories of people who were just trying to live their life until some %&*%!& politician screwed it up. (It doesn’t matter which side of the wall you’re on. Don’t hit me with your candidate because if they have a party agenda, they’re the same.)
In 1948, some of the prisoners of war who had special training were sent to East Germany to train “police forces.” Keiling said he had to choose between staying in the coal mines, where he could perish any day, and going to East Germany. He chose the latter, signing an agreement under pressure from the KGB.
Keiling became a special weapons training officer at the “police academy,” but soon “found out this training had nothing to do with police work.” Germany was secretly working to establish a new army, although prohibited from doing so under its terms of surrender.
Nevertheless, Keiling said, he had no choice in the matter. One night in 1950, while walking to the post office, he was kidnapped by two KGB officers and was jailed for six months, receiving monthly “hearings,” then sentenced to 10 years in a slave labor camp.
He was sent to the coal mines in Vorkuta, Siberia, 80 miles above the Artic Circle. Each day, he marched three miles from the barracks to the coal mine, with the temperature usually hovering over at 45 degrees below zero. He was released when Stalin died in March, 1953, but remained in custody of the Russians. He escaped to West Berlin while being transported back to East Germany.
In 1954 he settled in West Germany, where he met the niece of Bruno Shulz, the man who founded Gulfport Shipyard in Port Arthur.
Keiling was finally able to emigrate from Germany in 1956. He moved to Texas and worked for Shulz, managing a trailer park he owned in Kerrville and working on his ranch in Comfort. It was in Texas that Keiling learned to speak English, in part from television. Keiling worked for Schulz until his death in 1981.
He moved to Port Arthur, worked as a security guard until 1984, moved to Temple and moved back to Port Arthur last year.
He has returned to work with the same security company, Maritime Guard.
The good-humored but politically outspoken Keiling said he is proud to be an American.
And uses his freedom of speech in what he considers a struggle against the threat of governmental dictatorship.
“In America, people do not know how fast you can lose your freedom,” he said.
Okay, people, just breathe. Your avocado toast is secure! No. On second thought, I’m not going to blame my favorite kiddos, who seem to have no sense of direction. I belong to Generation X and have many quarrels with those who came before me and those who were born after me. We are the disgruntled. I also have a few issues with my kind. As I stated last week, I don’t do Facebook because I have no interest in hearing most people’s “opinions” on things that don’t concern them. However, I did look at the Wings over Houston page this past weekend, and boy was there a bunch of whiners! I went Saturday because I watched the weather report. Yes, it was cloudy, but all my favorites can fly under the clouds. The pyrotechnics crew was also rockin’ for the Tora, Tora, Tora crowd. I will say that everyone did a good job. Sorry to some that the weather ruined your plans on Friday and Saturday, but Sunday was perfect for your jets. On Saturday there was a lot of crap about the Blue Angels flying under the clouds. Again, if you paid extra to be there on Saturday, you should have been aware of the weather, which the weather is nature’s beast. Hell, my photos were taken that Saturday near the port-a-potty, behind the fence of the photographers’ pit. I guess I remain a master strategist. But that damn loudspeaker was always in the way. The photos are not perfect, but you’re welcome!
An odd thing happened when I was searching the vendors to buy a hat. I have caps, but my Lamar Cardinals hat looks pretty much like the American flag on the moon. It’s become crispy from the sun. My other one is a Houston Texans hat that I would wear to work were it not for the fact that people would keep asking me about the team. This is a problem because I have no allegiance to them. I don’t hate them; I just don’t care. To quote Mr. T, “I have no time for jibber-jabber.”
As I purchased my hat, an older gentleman who looked eerily like Jim “PeeWee” Martin, who passed this year, began to explain to me what the Commemorative Air Force hat meant and the Canadian Jet Snowbirds on it. I told him about my experiences at the airshow. Whether it was at the Jefferson County Airport in the 1980s or ‘90s or at Ellington Field, these shows sparked something in me that I hold dear. These were the days when pilots didn’t have computers running the navigation. They were young and went to war for their countries. In the end, many lost their lives to be patriots on both sides; they ended up as cannon fodder.
I told this man that if it has a propeller, I am interested; sorry for not caring about jets. I’m not against the Blue Angels, Sammie Hagar, or even the Blue Devils, because I don’t follow Duke basketball, but something about the planes from that era inspires me. And they had them this year! As Miss Rachel would say, “Good job” Wings over Houston! If you know about Miss Rachel, then you know! Godsend. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of the page for new parents or grandparents.
Well, the McFaddin-Ward House Museum lecture is on Thursday, November 10, at 6:30 p.m.; if you’re interested, please come. Crossing fingers that I don’t have a General Patton moment like when he talked in front of the Ladies Auxiliary.
Our 2nd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour was this week, and I would like to thank everyone who came out and supported us. It’s always a free event, and we strive to improve it. We have a lot of great people volunteering their time to bring out the history of both Beaumont and Southeast Texas, and we are blessed to have them.
Art of Unliving Beaumont Enterprise
If you missed the event but want to take the tour, then you are in luck. In November, we will be part of the McFaddin-Ward House Museum’s lecture series. Our lecture is on Thursday, November 10, at 6:30 p.m. Two hour-long tours will be conducted on Friday, November 11. These will be walking tours, and they will cover the same ground as the ones held in October. You will need to sign up for the tours with McFaddin-Ward House; check their website for further details. I always enjoy the walking tours because we can cover more history.
On Halloween of 1985, Port Arthur News staff writer Cynthia Cook ran a story about a Beaumont Witch that she fictitiously named Wanda. Don’t worry; this Wanda was from the North End, and who I did correspond with. At the time, her other sister from the West End was too busy griping about those “Blue Devil” Smurfs taking over the children‘s souls while they watched the cartoon to notice me. All I will say is that it never ends well for Wanda of the West End.
It was a decent article, but the historical claims made by the reporter were sketchy at best. Even so, Wanda was a good person. I wrote to her because, in the article, she called herself a White Witch, which translates to healer in the old country. If you were to apply the term nowadays, she would be classified as more of an Appalachian Granny Magic Witch. Yes, that is a thing. To be precise, I thought of her as being more in the New Age movement and not as a witch per se. She was very positive and yearned to help however she could.
At that point in life, I was into English history and obsessed with a book by Elizabeth Goudge called The White Witch, published in 1958. I tried to write a few of my own, not very good, stories. These were historical fiction from a place I’d never visited. Nonetheless, I was determined. I told her of my interest in English/Welsh history, and she referred me to a book by Evangeline Walton called The Song of Rhiannon. This was part of a four-book epic based on the Mabinogion. The Mabinogion, based on old oral legends, was written between 1050 and 1225 by Christian monks. It was translated into English by Charlotte Guest in 1838, although William Owen Pughe did translate a few stories in journals in 1795, 1821, and 1829. These were the stories left over after the Arthurian legends we know today as the story of King Arthur.
Some of you may recognize Rhiannon from Stevie Nick’s song. Yes, this is the same story, but Rhiannon wasn’t a witch. She was a goddess in the Welsh pantheon. Who knew that Wales had a pantheon like the Greeks and Romans? (Rant incoming.) Hell, the Welsh can’t even get a different shade of color on a map of the UK, which I know ticks them off. Well, this year is different, because guess who’s in the World Cup? This should be interesting. #Cymru. Sorry for the excess “Welshyness.” (Is that even a word?) I’m sure my editor will be annoyed at me for that, but 40 years of pain supporting the Three Lions (England) has taken its toll.
I learned from Wanda that it doesn’t matter what your story is. Put it out there. And I did, 28 years later, by publishing a book. I will get into that next week. I often wonder what happened to Wanda and hope her life is still positive. As for Wanda from the West End, she is currently up in arms about trying to block Bette Midler from sending curses through her television. Sistas! She never stops.
Up until a few years ago, I would visit Oak Bluff Cemetery in Port Neches, and I always wondered why there were no trespassing signs near the bayou. Then I googled a KBMT News story that happened. Apparently, someone showed up with a camera and took a fuzzy picture of Bigfoot throwing rocks on Refinery land. I will say that that hairy beast has neither a TWIC card nor an ISTC badge. This means that he is unauthorized to be on that property. And yes, he will suffer the consequences. That being said, I do not believe that Bigfoot was throwing rocks at Oak Bluff Cemetery. Though there was that one time when something showed up at the Sabine lighthouse.
There is an article in the Port Arthur News dated October 31, 1984, by staff writer Peggy Slasman. Slasman had interviewed a Port Arthur resident whose father was the Sabine lighthouse keeper in 1905. The story began as the fog rolled over the marsh, and the lighthouse keeper’s 10-year-old daughter stepped out on the porch to enjoy her favorite time of day. Unfortunately, this morning was different. The silence of the early morning was broken by movement in the marsh. She peered out over the railings, wondering what could be lurking near, when suddenly, she saw something so terrible that she screamed and fainted.
Her parents later found and revived the child. Both dismissed their daughter’s story as a figment of her wild imagination, but they couldn’t help but notice her obsession with her tale.
A month later, the lighthouse keeper was hunting in the marsh when he heard movement in the reeds. He crouched down and stared in the direction of the sound. To his dismay, before him stood an eight-foot-tall, hairy, dark, ugly “thing,” which scared the lighthouse keeper so much that he ran toward the safety of the lighthouse, forgetting his loaded rifle in his haste.
The monster was seen by others 12 times that year, but it never harmed anyone. Most Sabine residents believed it to be a bear, which is indeed quite possible, but one can only speculate. That same year, a storm flooded the marsh, and the beast was supposedly drowned or washed out to sea. However, according to Slasman’s article, some say it still lurks in the marsh. I have no idea, but whether it’s Bigfoot or Kisselpoo, those mosquitoes are brutal.
Next week, it’s time to Niitakayama Nobore at Ellington Field in Houston. These people put on a great event. I’ll leave a link to it.
Until next week, keep your cauldrons close, and don’t let Wanda of the West End near it.
The Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour is this week, and almost everything is set. Upon trying to use Facebook to promote it, I encountered a few problems. It’s a cemetery tour, Facebook, and it doesn’t fit into your event list. Food? Gardening? I finally chose Visual Arts because I didn’t want you to think we were trying to get you to do yard work or invite zombies. But I digress. We will have ten presenters on Thursday from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. at the cemetery and nine on Saturday from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. This is a tour to discover the history of some of Beaumont residents and this we have something special that will become a permanent feature. The newest addition to the 75-acre cemetery is the Pipkin section. The land in question was originally the site of the Pipkin Elementary School on Pine Street, where many African American Beaumonters began their education. In 1911, when Millard Elementary School for whites received a new brick structure, the old two-story wooden building was moved to the Pipkin School location on Pine Street. This building was also replaced with a brick structure in the 1920s. In 1974, the City of Beaumont acquired the school and land and demolished the building in 1981. The property was sold to Magnolia Cemetery in 1999. This site is a part of our history that needs to be remembered, and we have an excellent person to share this history with, Lynn Simon.
Here on Ye Olde Block Farm, we do have our share of spookiness and shenanigans. It doesn’t happen often, but it does occur all the same. This land was Martin Block’s farm. He was W. T. Block’s uncle. Martin died in 1945, and the original house burned down in the 1960s. Some of Block’s descendants still live in the neighborhood. We moved here in 2007, and Martin’s granddaughter lived next to us. She was a good source of family history, and my findings from Dean Tevis’s articles about farmers in the 1920s were an excellent addition to her accounts. I even found a photo of the original house that I gave to her and her older cousin, who remembered the structure. I’m glad I could do this before she passed.
We also have live oaks that are four and five feet in diameter. The cousin told me they have been there since at least 1908. These trees are precious to me. I look after them as best as I can. They’ve protected the house during Hurricane Rita, Humberto, Ike, Laura, and Delta.
Mostly, I think that those still here were farmers because they typically show up in the mornings or afternoons. One incident that stands out in my mind is someone sitting on the side of my bed at 5:30 a.m. and making the bed sag. Another time was when I was in my office at around 2 p.m. and heard someone walking in the kitchen. There was someone else here, and they work graveyards, so I assumed that they had woken up and it was coffee time. Thirty seconds later, I stood up and went into the kitchen—no one was there. The other person was still asleep.
This brings me to the third entity that pulls my chain. I don’t know if the original owner of the house (not of Block descent) built it, but he sure did his best to southern engineer things. I think he meant well, but he was not a Jack of all trades, as far as I’m concerned. We did a few renovations and had some things happen. After the first renovation, I was working at a table in the living room, and another person was asleep on the couch. Downton Abbey was playing on the TV, and the lazy boy chair popped open between us. In the fifteen years that we had it, it had never opened by itself. I know I get irked with the past owner for some things, but if he’s still here, he is used to my rants, and I am glad he enjoyed my chair that evening. He also might be just a fan of Downton Abby.
I might get into the second renovation later, where nothing happened because he knew what I would discover. Let’s just say that there were many chosen words that day.
Blackshirt ghost hunters are a different breed. Like I said last week, I am not a professional parapsychologist, nor do I spout that I’m an expert on anything of this nature, but some of the people in this field really go hardcore. Many run around in the dark, taking photos of dust particles while asking questions to an SB-7 spirit box. For those who don’t know, a SB-7 is basically a broken radio that continuously turns the dial to different radio stations. The objective is for a spirit to use this to communicate through the white noise. I have one of these, but it never works for me. It’s about as helpful as the Ghost Radar App I have on my phone, just for giggles. It may have worked a few times, but I don’t put much faith in it. Although there was that time when I was at Magnolia Cemetery cleaning headstones, and it told me to “RUN.” I looked around but didn’t see anything, so I went about my work. Probably just Thomas Langham having a bit of fun. Which I guess the ol’ sheriff is entitled to. (I say this because it was his headstone that I was cleaning.)
Nowadays, there are many more gadgets on the market that beep and moan but I’m really not interested in that stuff. It’s easier just to sit, watch, and listen. If someone wants to make contact, they will by any means. This happens over and over when you’re doing research. I’ll get into this next week.
Some ghost hunters take their investigations seriously, and others are outright mental. Years ago, a team was doing an investigation inside a trailer located in Orange County. Supposedly they caught an EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) of an Indian saying “ugh” and proudly uploaded it to Youtube. I heard the EVP of the so-called Indian saying “ugh”, but the big question is, why would the ghost of a dead Indian be haunting a trailer? And why do you talk to a spirit in English when they don’t know the language? It’s (explicit language here) to think that the spirit of a dead guy or gal has a Babel fish in their ear. These people get really mad when you call them out. It’s almost like they’re politicians but above the food chain level because I would never say they’re worse.
Well, hopefully I’ve angered someone till next week because I’m tired.
On Monday, I drove to Houston, and the weather was perfect. I can imagine unicorns and butterflies frolicking together in perfect harmony, but you people in Houston are a different breed. I will ask how you can strategically shut down all the major highways during morning rush hour when there is nothing in your way. At least there is I-99; it’s out of the way, but I cringe when I have to drive to the other side of Houston. By the way, I will go ahead and say that Buc-ee’s BBQ sucks. Sorry/not sorry, but it’s the best place to go to the bathroom, and the banana bread is good.
Ruth and Florence Chambers
Back in 2015, the Beaumont Heritage Society did its annual Florence Chambers birthday celebration. Florence was born in 1912 and lived in the same house her whole life. As I’ve said before, this house/museum is my favorite because it’s a house that we could live in without millions of dollars. The story of the two sisters—Ruth and Florence—is an excellent historical view of women succeeding in life at a time when most said they couldn’t function unless they were married. Visit the museum, take the tour, and enjoy their story.
That year, the actor who played Homer Chambers (Papa) couldn’t attend the event, so they decided to reenact the funeral of Papa Chambers. Broussard’s Funeral Home provided the casket, and the event went well. I even have a photo of the ghostly images of a few women walking in the background in a time-lapse. I saw at the time that the picture looked ghostly, and I even asked a friend who knew the Chambers sisters to look at it. I said, “Hey, this could be the Chambers sisters,” but she shut me down immediately, responding, “Not in those heels!” Reenactor problems, but gold to me. Everyone did a great job that night, as they do every year.
Well, it’s the second week of October, which means it’s time to carve turnips! Back in the old country, there were no pumpkins to carve, so turnips were initially used. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and those turnips are a bit hard to cut, but we will prevail. I’m not an artist, but the finished product is usually placed in my office and the living room for everyone to enjoy, but I see a trend of people not visiting during this time. I guess a house that smells like turnips is an acquired taste.
The origin of pumpkin carving for Halloween began in Ireland with the legend of Stingy Jack. Jack was not a good man; not only did he screw up his life, but he also screwed up his afterlife. Hearing the story of Stingy Jack and his worthless life, I put him in either the Senate or Congress. It’s pretty bad when even the devil feels for you. I’ll leave a link below to the story and a video as well. The video is well done—it’s by an independent film producer named Gary Andrews.
Last week, I spoke of my article about the Legend of Sarah Jane that blew up in the past. My article about Bragg Road was no different. Although it didn’t surpass the views of the first one, I saw that people were interested in this lore. Before getting into the story, I would like to make a plea to whoever is using the nice signage for target practice: please point your shotgun somewhere else, because we don’t need that kind of stuff.
Bragg Road is different from Sarah Jane Road because there may be something there. As I said in the blog, I did see the light, but not close, as most people seem to tell me happened to their acquaintances. I have yet to talk to someone who has seen the light in front of them or hovering over their car. It’s always a cousin, friend, or neighbor. That don’t work for me, so it is ongoing research on what it might have been.
I’ll leave a link to the article at the bottom of the page, but this was kind of the first time that we tried to do a logical paranormal investigation. It was the 1980s, and no Ghost Adventures TV show existed. (And that was a good thing!) What did exist was Loyd Auerbach’s book ESP, Hauntings and Poltergeists: A Parapsychologist’s Guide Handbook. So, we tried to document who, how, and what was traveling down that night’s eight-mile stretch. I will say that Paul Newman (not the actor/salad dressing king) did an excellent job of figuring out if the light we saw was a vehicle traveling down the road by brushing the tire tracks off the road. So, we knew just how many cars had passed. But the conclusion was a light that looked like an oncoming train. It never got close to us. It’s still a mystery. If you have a story and you’re not related to West End Wanda, then email me at rediscoveringsetx@gmail.com.
One thing I will always promote is the cemetery tours on Broadway in Galveston. Author Kathleen Maca does these tours, and she literally wrote the books on the cemetery. I’m excited for our upcoming tour of Magnolia Cemetery on the 20th and 22nd, and if you get a chance, the historical knowledge of Kathleen on the residents of the cemeteries on Broadway is a treasure that you shouldn’t miss. She also has ghost tours on the strand. I’ll leave her info below.
October is here, and Fall is upon us. I’m not going to talk about Pumpkin Spice, but I may mention The Great Pumpkin if triggered because Linus was always the smart one of the bunch, although Marcie would have probably made a good researcher—I digress.
According to Celtic/European legends, the veil begins to thin from the two worlds at this time of year, but as a child growing up in Port Arthur, I just wanted candy. Everything was good for the most part, but when I was trick-or-treating as a child, I had to make explicit gestures to a kid at the Church of Port Arthur on 19th street because he was trolling his “You are going to hell because your parents won’t let me have candy” scenario. Story below!
It’s also that time of year when newspaper reporters come out of the woodwork and search for a few of us to play on Halloween-themed articles. I get it, but I don’t envy them for having a deadline. I post weekly, but as I’ve stated before, I don’t make money from this blog, so sometimes you’re not getting much. There are a few haunts, stories, and legends that I will get into this month, so tag your favorite one, new-to-this-area person on the local news beat, and possibly launch your career, with my info. Good luck and Godspeed, new journalist.
Back in 2012, when this blog began, I did an article on the Legend of Sarah Jane Road, and it blew up. At the time, I was getting a few hits a day, but the website was new, and a regional history blog is as niche as it gets. Well, one day, for some reason, people began to share the article throughout the world. In twenty-four hours, it had reached nearly 12,000 views from Russia and Malaysia to South America. It wasn’t a great article, but many SETX ex-residents worldwide remembered their own version of this story. That’s fine with me, but I stand with Mr. Block on the fact that the Port Arthur News reporter doing his theme at Sarah Jane Block’s expense is fiction. Speaking of Mr. Block, I’ll link to the article and his website because he did a few spooky/entertaining stories around this time of the year.
Evelyn Keyes
Last week I brought up Bessie Reid and her story of Kisselpoo. When researching Mrs. Bruce Reid (as Florence Stratton always referred to her in her weekly letter), I stopped by the Museum of the Gulf Coast to get copies of the information that Sarah, the curator at the time, had on Mrs. Reid. While we waited for the printer to finish, I noticed that some of the exhibits had been moved from the first to the second floor. I also noticed that the Evelyn Keyes exhibition was now on the second floor. So, knowing that Evelyn died in 2008 and that the Aladdin lamp in the exhibit contains some of her ashes, I asked, “How does Evelyn like her new home?”. The printer immediately jammed. I don’t know if Scarlet’s sister jammed that printer, but I assume she was not pleased. I’ll add that Evelyn Keyes left Port Arthur at age three when her father died, but she stayed in touch, unlike other celebrities that y’all put on a pedestal, so she’s alright in my book.
The Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour is planned and ready. The dates are Thursday, October 20th, from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. and Saturday, October 22nd, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. The tour is free and will feature some old and new names. This tour is a history tour of the deceased residents of Beaumont. There will be ten speakers on Thursday and nine on Saturday, so come out and listen to the history of the cemetery residents.
Until next week, slán go fóill.
Halloween on 19th st in Port Arthur
When I was growing up, October was special to me. Not only is it my birth month, but it was also a time of great joy. CavOILcade was still something to look forward to, and toward the end of the month we would always anticipate trick-or-treating down 19th Street with keen enthusiasm.
I vaguely remember my sisters telling ghost stories in the living room. (Does anyone remember the man with the golden arm?) Just when the spooky part would happen, Tiger, our cat, would jump up onto the air-conditioning window unit outside and scare the hell out of us. I loved that cat!
Trick-or-treating was special. We would walk down 19th Street to the train bridge, knocking on doors and waiting excitedly for our treats. Of course, not everyone enjoyed this time. There was that fly-by-night church (if I recall correctly, it was called the Church of Port Arthur) where some kid who looked to be 10 years old yelled at us that we were all going to hell. I promptly responded, “And a fun time we will have!” He didn’t respond. I guess that was the only thing he had been taught to say.
For the most part I did have a good time haunting 19th Street in my cheap Casper costume. I will say though that that damned rubber band on the bargain-basement mask never lasted the whole night, but it made it as far as the house where candy was consumed with great relish. I guess in all honesty I wasn’t a friendly ghost. Just ask the 10 year old at the Church of Port Arthur.
I also remember this was the time when there were stories of some candy being tainted with horrible things, such as razor blades. My father was first to make sure that the candy was safe and edible. Of course he took it upon himself to eat each candy where the wrapper had been slightly disturbed. Even at a young age I could figure this ploy out.
Halloween was special while I was growing up. We had fun in somewhat dark times, but all in all, it was a joyful time in my life, and now I would like to commemorate those who made this time a hoot! Even that poor 10 year old. I hope that in his later years he found greater happiness than that derived from yelling at children who were looking for candy.
My taste in music has changed over 50+ years. I will say that I can listen to most things. In the 1970s, it was probably anything that my sisters listened to. Yeah, some Cliff Richard devil woman or Paul Revere and the Raiders. I remember a few things: taking a record player outside and listening to it while sitting in a lot, next to an ash tree that was struck by lightning twice within a year. History tells us that is odd, but that’s what happened. Not me sitting in a lot, but lightning striking a tree twice.
Blizzard of Oz
The first concert I attended was an English guy that had a band with a great guitarist named Randy Rhoads. He was a bit naughty and had a severe drug problem. In his stupor, he apparently enjoyed eating doves at the record label meetings. One time, one of his fans threw him a bat on stage, so in his element, he partook of this fowl delicacy. The publicity was enormous, but I’m sure that those rabies shots in the torso hurt. It was a great concert. There is footage of Randy Rhoads doing a sound check and an interview with the singer, Ozzy Osbourne, on YouTube. I’ll put the links for both videos below.
Randy died a month later in a plane crash, which I’ve always thought was a significant loss to music. Yes, Eddie Van Halen was doing similar things on the guitar, but Randy was classically trained and probably would have ventured further if he had had the chance. As far as Ozzy is concerned, he is still alive and remains healthy, while every other bandmate he has had is dying of some disease. I guess he’s well preserved.
Chambers House Museum
I started my journey through SETX history in 2012, and it’s been a treasure trove of information. I guess it started by clicking on a Chambers House Museum link on my computer. I will say that the Chambers House has always been my favorite museum in Beaumont, not because of the glorious richness in it, but for the simplicity it brings. This is the house where your grandma could have lived—not mine, because she was happy on 18th street in Port Arthur, near her church. But I’m sure that her five boys and one girl would have loved the room of a two-story house. Instead, they had to deal with a 600-sq. ft., two-bedroom one bath priced on Zillow at whoever knows nowadays. There are many unique sites to see there; if you know the stories, it’s even better.
Florence Stratton
I bring up the Chambers House because I need to shout out to Ginny, who used to work there. She was the one who introduced me to Florence Stratton in 2012, and boy, what an adventure it’s been. Florence intrigued me, so I spent ten years researching her. This is why I only post my Thoughts and Ramblings on Sunday mornings—as a tribute to her, because her Susie Spindletop Weekly Letter hit the pages of the Sunday Enterprise from February 28, 1926, to January 23, 1938. I’ve spent many hours (and dollars) researching her, and I can say that it’s been worth it for history on different fronts.
Another person who has intrigued me is Catherine Jeanette Stengele. I learned of her story from a friend while photographing headstones in Magnolia Cemetery. According to him, Catherina was a seamstress who saved all her money and who, upon her death, had paid for an impressive mausoleum as her final resting place. I found this story odd because a lowly seamstress would never make enough to afford a mausoleum that covers 12 plots. So, the research began.
Early Beaumont was home to an entrepreneur in the form of the Dutch-born youthful Miss Stengele. According to her naturalization form, she arrived in this country in 1884, spent a few years in Baltimore learning the millinery business, and then moved to Beaumont in the late 1880s. The form also shows that she was born on February 28, 1856, and not 1866, as stated on her mausoleum. (I suppose that some people need to hold on to their youth even in death.)
Miss Stengele was certainly competent in the world of business. As a single woman in the 1890s, she made a good living with her millinery business and other ventures in the financial and real estate sectors. She had the help of lawyers for living trust claims and property claims, which also seemed to work well for her. Miss Stengele was so successful in finance that she placed an ad in the Beaumont Journal in May 1899 stating that she was “Going to quit the business! I am going to quit the millinery business, and from the date will sell my entire stock at very low prices.”
Catherina Jeanette Stengele seemed to be a natural when it came to finance and the lending market. So much so that she quit her day job, so to speak. Her investments would even finance a return trip to Europe in 1901. See the article in the Beaumont Enterprise dated January 6, 1900.
You may notice the name Stengele Building highlighted in yellow above the article. Miss Stengele also owned a three-story brick building at 345 Pearl Street in Beaumont, which had housed her millinery shop as well as several of her tenants.
Although the records from 1900 until her death in 1909 tell the tale of a successful businesswoman, not every investment she made went according to plan. For instance, around 1905–1906, court proceedings show the bankruptcy of a rice farm in Langhorne in which she held a $20,000 stake.
In April 1909, Miss Stengele left Beaumont for Los Angeles because of an illness. An article from the Houston Post dated September 16, 1909, states that she “underwent two surgeries for appendicitis during the summer.” Unfortunately, Miss Catherina Jeanette Stengele passed away the day before the article was printed, on September 15, 1909.
I found a few articles from the Beaumont Journal that reviewed the highlights of her life and the aftermath of her death, but her will is undoubtedly of considerable interest. According to hearsay, she was at odds with one of her brothers and left him nothing, though technically that’s not true. Browsing through her will, I found that she did leave a detailed list of her heirs and her final wishes. Her wish for the St. Catherine of the Wheel statue was originally included in the first draft of her will in 1908, but the mausoleum was only added in May 1909. She had many family members, both locally and in Holland, to whom she bequeathed her wealth. Her assets were around $120,000. That’s the equivalent of $3.1 million today. Not too bad for a lowly seamstress—or should I say, a milliner?
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