Saturday, April 3, 2010

The Souls of Texan Folk

The greatest eroding force in the world is human history.

Mankind chews up and spits out its past, taking apart the old for a a desirable new. Yesterday passes from memory to library, and from library to scholarship, from scholarship to history textbook, and from history textbook into the dusty corners of the collective human conscience. And there the memories are made again for future generations. As the process is repeated over and over again, the window of knowledge about a time period narrows and narrows, until thousands of years in the future, it is almost entirely forgotten. Such are the works of man.

I wanted to undercut this eroding process in the most effective way possible. Thus, I ventured into what has become the forgotten past, and in part what is now the forgotten present. Texas was my destination. Or more precisely, the four counties Parker, Palo Pinto, Young, and Jack. In the mold of W.E.B. DuBois, who traversed the Deep South at the turn of the century to immerse himself in issues of racial inequality, I ventured into the Texas farm and ranchlands. What DuBois said a century ago equipped me:
"We can only learn by intimate contact with the masses, and not by wholesale arguments, covering millions separate in time and space, and differing widely in training and culture."
Fittingly, the title of this entry is inspired by the book that resulted from DuBois' Southern encounters, The Souls of Black Folk. Here is The Souls of Texan Folk (in a day).

Of Forts and Frontiersmen

Introduction
In Jacksboro, Texas, there exists a lens into one of the most dramatic and celebrated times in American history. Fort Richardson operated from 1867-1878, a formative and often chaotic period of warfare between American settlers and frontier bands of Comanches, Kiowas, and the like. What transpired at Fort Richardson during its short period of service to the United States serves as a launching point for understanding Texas history.

Independence Era
Wars against the natives of Texas were inevitable as the first American settlers, with the permission of Mexico, blazed trails out of the Eastern woodlands and into the rolling hills of the cross timbers ecological zone in the early 19th century. The woodland Indians, tribes of Caddo and other relatively sedentary agrarian societies, did not give prolonged difficulty to the advancement of American settlement. Thousands of Americans thus filled East Texas by the 1830s, farming and raising livestock in fertile lands around the many rivers flowing to the Gulf of Mexico.

Demographic tensions and provocations from the Mexican government led to the Texan demands for autonomy, and the ensuing Texan War of Independence. Armed with a declaration of independence and grievances, drafted in March, 1836, the Texans established protection from Indian raids as a key priority of their new government. For, as they saw it, the Mexicans had "incited the the merciless savage, with the tomahawk and the scalping knife, to massacre the inhabitants of our defenseless frontiers."

Statehood and Fort-Building
As Texas operated as an independent nation from 1836 to 1845, its leaders adopted different policies towards the Indians of the region, who conducted regular raids on frontier farmers to steal horses and provisions. While Texas hero Gen. Sam Houston preferred policies of negotiation and diplomacy to end hostilities, his successor as President of Texas, Mirabeau B. Lamar, sought to exterminate all Indian presence in Texas. This policy had some success, but the most fearsome bands of Comanche still roamed the plains.

When Texas joined the United States in the 1840s, Indian relations were still a problem. To secure the frontier, a host of forts sprung up in the 1850s, garrisoned by federal troops. These forts had to cover huge swaths of land from mobile Comanche bands that could project their particular tribe's raiding power hundreds of miles eastward. Kidnappings and deaths occurred, but the line of forts pushed West, as garrisons like Phantom Hill, Mason, and McKavett housed both infantry and cavalry units to protect local residents. All of this unraveled, however, with the secession crisis of 1860-1861.

Secession, Reconstruction and Grant's Follies
With the formation of the Confederate States of America and Texas' joining thereof, the federal troops did not have the blessing of Texas' people. Confederate units took over security as they could, peacefully ousting the federals. However, lack of manpower for the frontier took a heavy toll on Texas frontier residents from 1861-1865. Texans did participate in forays into New Mexico with other Confederate units, and conducted friendly relations with Mexico during this period, but could not preserve frontier security.

After the Civil War and the arduous years of Reconstruction, while politics tore apart successive governments in Austin, the United States worked to reclaim the frontier for its citizens. This is where Fort Richardson came into play. The frontier line had fallen back to the East, but the new forts soon pushed Comanche influence back towards the high plains. The Medicine Lodge Treaty of 1867 stymied military pressure under President Ulysses S. Grant's mandate, but Indian raids continued.

Grant also implemented the "Quaker Peace Policy" in the late 1860s, designed to encourage peaceful resettlement on large reservations far from areas populated by Americans, with oversight from Quaker officials. The condition was that the government provide rations to the inhabitants of the reservations, and other federal support. When the condition was not met, the raids began again, with dissatisfied Comanches again harassing the frontier inhabitants of Texas. Civil War veterans like Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman witnessed this policy failure. Soon, many lobbied for the revocation of the Quaker peace initiative.

Victory, But How?
When the Quaker Peace Policy ended in the early 1870s, forts like Richardson projected their power with maximum effectiveness and soon drove Comanche tribes out of Texas, along with other native groups. The climactic Battle of Palo Duro Canyon ended most incursions. The Texas frontier had been won.

The winning of the frontier did not occur in some thoroughly romantic fashion, however. The garrisons of places like Fort Richardson often suffered more deaths from alcoholism and dysentery than those from battle. Soldiers deserted, became infected with venereal disease from local places of ill repute, and longed for some real sense of battle. Life was lonely and hard on the Texas plains in the 1860s and 1870s. As progress moved necessity elsewhere, the forts shuttered, becoming monuments to a forgotten era and lifestyle.

Progress and Possibility: Texas Today

Urbanization and Modernity
The second key part of my trip was the investigation of the modern state of living in the aforementioned counties. Oil and cattle, long the economic engines of Texan development and prosperity, become more centralized and lost relative importance with the growth of new industry and big urban centers in the 1960s. The interstate highway system bypassed hundreds of towns that once held major thoroughfares. The heritage and condition of small-town Texas fades more with each passing year for these reasons. It is the erosion of human history.

In a researching state of mind, the question framed is this: "How has small-town Texas responded to the modernization and urbanization of the past four decades?" (The independent variable is town leadership, and the dependent variable is conservatism) The answer to this question stems in large part from a conversation I had with a staff member at Fort Richardson. An important note is that conservatism in this context simply means reluctance to change, not American political conservatism.

I will examine briefly two case studies: the thirty-mile separate towns of Jacksboro, county seat of Jack County, and Graham, county seat of Young County.

Jacksboro
Situated at a major crossroads about an hour northwest of Fort Worth, Jacksboro is a town that should have been poised to benefit from mass movement into Texas, given its strategic location and historic ties. It is, besides being the location of Fort Richardson, the town that produced a TCU All-American football player and a TCU head football coach, Abe Martin. However, this is not the case. The population of Jacksboro has scarcely changed over the past fifty years, resting steadily at around 4500.

The staff member at Fort Richardson, a longtime resident of Jacksboro, attributes this to the intense conservatism of the town, or more appropriately, town leadership. He related a story from several years ago told by the then-96-year-old pastor at the Church of Christ. The pastor told the staff member, "I've been in this town since 1922, and they still know me as an outsider." The prevailing mentality is that one must be a native son to be accepted, even in the most extreme cases.

This mentality is not conducive to welcoming outside development and investment, and in such a small town, the attitudes of a powerful few carry a stranglehold on local policy. Jacksboro's town square appears relatively dilapidated and worn, as the people seem to care not for outward appearance, staying inside much as they have stayed inside their own little world for fifty years or more. The Ft. Richardson staff member told me that many young Jacksboro residents have never traveled farther than Wichita Falls, an hour north, in their lives. Many have never even been to or seen the Dallas-Fort Worth area, yet they drive trucks that could take them there for any purpose in forty-five minutes.

Intense conservatism not only stagnates growth, it also has counterproductive tendencies. Jack County held the status of a "dry," no alcohol county for many years, and no one on the town leadership wished for that to change. Even as Jacksboro High School students became more assertive on alcohol consumption and drove to nearby Graford, in "wet" Palo Pinto County, incurring many DWI deaths along the way, the leadership would not relent. The staff member told me how, come election day, senile residents of local nursing homes would be almost pulled from their wheelchairs by the intensely conservative town leadership to vote on keeping Jack County dry.

Such harsh austerity and conservatism in the face of changing times drove Jacksboro inward. But, as the staff member told me, small town differences can be "like night and day" in Texas. Enter the town of Graham.

Graham
Located thirty miles West of Jacksboro on U.S. Hwy 380, Graham, TX is an out-of-the-way small town gem close to Possum Kingdom Lake. It does not have the major highway convergences of Jacksboro, nor any nearby forts of places of great historical note. Yet its population is currently double that of Jacksboro, and the town is thriving.

An aesthetic view of Graham places it far higher than its neighbor in Jack County. Graham claims to have the "largest town square in America," a square that is beautifully kept and lined with well-preserved storefronts. A crisp and shining memorial to veterans of all wars stands in front of the courthouse. The streets of Graham are clean and shaded, and stately old homes line the main roads. Civic pride radiates from every block. Graham possesses a far greater amount of business development as well.

The town leadership of Graham clearly brought in this outside investment and maintained a strong culture even as the forces of time threatened to siphon its livelihood away. The high school has a thriving theater department that regularly sends students to Texas colleges on scholarship in theater production. The town also recently attracted as its high school football coach Brad McCoy, father of former Texas Longhorns quarterback Colt McCoy. Colt's brother Case graduated from Graham High School and followed his brother to Austin. Graham is quintessential Texas.

As Jacksboro's austerity drives it inward, Graham demonstrates what small town Texas must do to survive in a world that increasingly wants to pass it by. Flexible leadership that does not demand unreasonable opposition to business development, preserves the core identity of the town and welcomes outsiders (like the well-known Brad McCoy, unlike Jacksboro's reminder that its pastor of fifty years or more was an outsider) proves instrumental to a town's vitality.

A Lone or Lonely Star?

Texan identity, forged in independence and in the hardy souls of frontier settlers, can be best preserved in the small communities and county seats that dot the state. Just as the lonely Indian fighters sat at Fort Richardson in the 1870s, watching the frontier conflict pass them by, so too sits small town Texas. Will it despair, drive itself inwards, and desert? Or will it instead seize its moment of glory that it dreams for in earnest, even as human history dramatically molds the landscape all around in new and ever-changing ways? The souls of Texan folk must answer.

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