Robert Heard’s Family Genealogy


By Robert Heard


Copyright 2011 Robert Heard

Last Updated: July 24, 2011
































Copyrighted by Robert Heard, June 2011

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This is a long website, so long that the last seven photos I tried to include do not appear. So I divided the document, hoping I could add the second part to the website. You probably cannot finish reading this in one sitting. Note where you finish – a name or date – this webite still will be here when you return.



The first person in history that I think we may be linked to is a Scandinavian king named Heardred, king of the Geats (southern Sweden), who lived in the 6th Century (500s C.E.) if he is not a mythological figure. After a brief reign, Heardred dies in battle with other Swedes (middle and northern Sweden) and is succeeded by Beowulf, who also may have been a mythological person (certainly some of the exploits attributed to him are fantastical). Beowulf is the subject of the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf, the oldest tale in any Germanic language, first committed to paper around 700 C.E. after being preserved orally in the same way Homer, a blind Greek poet/troubadour 1,200 years earlier (circa 750 B.C.E.) preserved The Iliad (about the 10-year Trojan War, circa 1250 B.C.E.) and The Odyssey, on the de-cade of his travels to his home in Attica, Greece, by hero Odysseus of the war at Troy. The oldest copy of Beowulf, written in the 900s C.E., is stored at the British Library (formerly at the British Museum). Heardred and his father, King Hygelac, are mentioned in the Beowulf poem. Here are two translations:

Afterwards, later in loud clash of war

Hygelac had fallen and Heardred been slaughtered

below the shield-shelter by sharp claymores [two-edged broadswords],

death-dealing blades, when daring Swedes,

fierce fightingmen, found him by seeking

among his honored Geats and with enmity

hunted and harried Hereric’s nephew;

afterward the broad kingdom passed to Beowulf’s hand.

For fifty years, he defended it well.


Beowulf, translation by Ruth P.M. Lehmann, University of Texas Press, Austin, 1988, lines 2200-2208, p. 81.


This is the cover art for Beowulf, translation by Ruth P.M. Lehmann, University of Texas Press, Austin, 1988. This is an artist’s imagined view of one of the monsters killed by Beowulf, who is a nephew of Higelac (or Hygelac), king of the Geats (GAY-ettes). Beowulf, a Geat, journeys to the great hall Heorot of Danish King Hrothgar, a descendant of Scyld, king of the Danes. The monster Grendel terrorized Heorot for a dozen years, killing Hrothgar’s men. A follower of Hrothgar named Unferth first taunts Beowulf, a great swimmer, for Beowulf’s “defeat in a swimming match” with Breca. Beowulf not only gets back at Unferth by telling the true story of Unferth’s failure to fight the monster Grendel, he also denies the allegation Breca defeated him in a swimming match. Rather, Beowulf says, he and Breca, as boys, vowed to test their courage in the open sea, where Beowulf slew “sea monsters” that harried Scandinavian fishermen for generations. Beowulf journeys to Denmark to dispatch Grendel. Unarmed but with “a grip of iron,” Beowulf is grabbed by Grendel, wrestles with Grendel and tears off Grendel’s arm. Unferth sees that Beowulf is a better fighter and lends him Unferth’s sword. Beowulf fights Grendel’s mother, who seeks revenge for her son’s wound, and Beowulf learns that Unferth’s sword will not wound the mother, so he grabs a nearby sword made by “giants” that is lying around in the cave of Grendel and his mother. Beowulf cuts off the head of the mother, then cuts off Grendel’s head. But the blood of Grendel and his mother melt the sword of the giants, leaving only the hilt. After the death of Beowulf’s uncle Hi gelac, king of the Geats, and also of Higelac’s son, Heardred, Beowulf (Heardred’s cousin) succeeds Heardred as king of the Geats (southern Sweden) and rules for 50 years. We know from other sources that Higelac is killed in about 521 C.E. in a raid on today’s Netherlands, and we know from the Beowulf poem that Heardred is slain soon afterward by Swedes, who kill him by striking him with broadswords beneath Heardred’s shield. After Beo-wulf rules for half a century, a dragon finds it has been robbed of a treasure it guarded and it devastates the country. Beowulf and 11 companions go out to meet the dragon, which breathes fire. All of Beowulf’s companions except Wiglaf flee to the woods. Beowulf’s sword breaks, and the dragon sinks its teeth in Beowulf’s neck. Wiglaf wounds the dragon, whose strength wanes. Then Beowulf kills it, but the wound by the bite in the neck is mortal.



In a funeral ritual alien to modern ears, Beowulf’s body and all of his trasure are burned.



In an essay entitled Beowulf’s Heroic Death, in Readings on Beowulf, J.D.A. Ogilvy and Donald C. Baker write on p. 73:



Happiness and prosperity -- all human goods except, per- haps, fame -- are transitory. Victories may sometimes be gained, but wars are never really won, and fate stands ever ready to sweep away the lives and works of men. The religious, Christian answer is, of course, to seek the permanent bliss of heaven. The heroic answer, as embodied in Beowulf, is a valiant stoicism: “Do your utmost. A good name is all you can win in this world.”

The monsters killed by Beowulf are the “sea monsters” that plagued Scandinavian fishermen for generations, Grendel’s mother, Grendel and, in Beowulf’s old age, the dragon that breathed fire. The Beowulf poem emphasizes alliteration, same-sounding syllables at the beginning of lines rather than modern poetry’s rhy-mes at the end of lines. Modern verse also can be blank, but there are few examples (Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address is the main exception) of blank verse that are worth anything.

One must remember that the early church believed in dragons and identified the devil as “the dragon.” Here are the first three verses of Chapter 20 in Revelation in the King James Version of the Bible (1611):

1: And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. 
2: And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, 
3: And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season.

One also must remember that Revelation is part of the early church’s canon because the church’s fathers couldn’t understand Revelation anymore than we can, but because it might be real and genuine (inspired by God), they put it in. The Beowulf poem at one point also calls Grendel’s mother and Grendel descendants of the biblical Cain. That and a reference to Cain’s brother Able are reasons scholars believe the composer of Beowulf to be Christian. Despite that, the composer chose to write the poem about a pagan Geatish king whose adventures take place in modern Denmark and Sweden.

No one knows who wrote Beowulf. We probably are indebted to Roman Catholic monks for preserving the poem. Its survival is a lucky stroke for us, because when King Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of Catholic monasteries and grabbed their wealth in the late 1520s, many books got destroyed, but a single copy of Beowulf turned up in 1563 in the hands of a private collector, Lawrence Nowell. The next owner seems to be scholar Sir Robert Cotton, who ordered it bound. Damaged slightly by fire in 1731, Beowulf eventually came to the British Museum.

Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of the monasteries after Pope Clement VII denied Henry an annulment in his marriage to Catherine of Aragon so he could marry Ann Boleyn (to sire a male heir). Henry also established the Church of England, today known as the Anglican Church in Britain and the Episcopal Church in America. Each church stems from an urge beneath Henry’s belt.

Here is the morerecent translation of the same lines in Beowulf that mention Heardred:

A lot was to happen in later days

in the fury of battle. Hygelac fell

and the shelter of Heardred’s shield

proved useless against the fierce aggression of the Shylfings: ruthless swordsmen, seasoned campaigners, they came against him and his conquering nation,

and with cruel force cut him down so that afterward the wide kingdom reverted to Beowulf.

He ruled well for fifty winters, grew old and wise as warden of the

land . . .


Beowulf, by Seamus Heaney (Nobel Prize for Literature -- poetry -- in 1995), Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York, 1999, lines 2200-2209, pp. 149, 151.






This is the cover art for Readings on Beowulf, David L. Bender, publisher, The Greenhaven Press, San Diego CA, 1998. The artist here shows the third monster slain by Beowulf (a dragon that breathes fire) first mortally wounding Beowulf by biting his neck. Beowulf drops his sword (which here is in one piece instead of being broken, as the poem says), and the fire breathed by the dragon trails out of its mouth to the rear.



The map below, from the same book, p. 18, shows the migration of Germanic tribes to England (previously inhabited only by Celtic (KELL-tic) tribesmen. The Frisians (modern Holland, or The Netherlands) slew Heardred’s father and Beowulf’s uncle, King Hygelac of the Geats on a raid against the Frisians, whose peoples, as well as the Angles, Saxons, Jutes and others, contributed to the Old English (called Anglo-Saxon today) spoken by the new peoples controlling what we know as Britain, a language later made famous by Chaucer and then Shakespeare. The inhabitants of what Shakespeare labeled “This Septered Isle” got a gift of 12,000 Old French words after the Norman (Northmen: Scandinavians who settled in northwest France) Invasion of England in 1066. The English took words, and still take words, from anywhere that seem useful, in contrast with the snooty French, who to this day guard the “purity” of their tongue, particularly against the “pop culture” of Americans. The result: English today boasts more words than any other language and ranks as the dialogue of choice around the world in business and other important areas. In fact, pilots the world over must speak English to air controllers everywhere.



This is not to say the Heard family dates from King Heardred of the Geats (GAY-ettes). More likely, if there is a connection at all, we are related to soldiers or serfs of Heardred. But if we are related to Heardred, so what? Did you ever hear of him before reading his name here? It’s not like he’s famous. Beowulf and Heardred lived at about the same time, circa 520 C.E., as did Celtic warrior in Southern England that we know as King Arthur. Arthur also may be mythological, or mere-ly a captain of a small force rather than a king. In Latin, the Englishmen of the ear-ly centuries of the Common Era in the Western world, referred to Arthur as dux bellorum, leader of battles in Latin. The Arthurian legend includes two tragic love stories involving knights of his supposed Round Table: Launcelot (Lancelot in English) and Arthur’s Queen Guinevere, and Tristan and Isolde. The latter in-spired the great German composer (but rabid anti-Semite) Richard Wagner in the 19th century to write one of the most painfully sweet overtures ever penned. Tristan and Isolde runs about 18 minutes and -builds to the kind of exquisite finish that Russian composer Modest Petrovich Mussorgsky, 1839-1881, fashioned for an artist-friend’s Great Gate at Kiev in his Pictures at an Exhibition. Mussorgsky died of alcohol-related illnesses at age 42.

If the story of Heardred and Beowulf sounds ancient, remember the Romans, who began the final conquest of England in 43 C.E. under Emperor Claudius I (Julius Caesar first invaded England in 55 B.C.E., before the common era), and the Ro-mans withdrew in the early 400s as the empire disintegrated. Germanic peoples (Anglos, Saxons, Jutes, and Frisians) invaded England, and Vikings (Danes) raided it in the 700s. Besides, 26 centuries before Caesar, the Egyptians built the Great Pyramid. And about 2,000 years before that, Sumerians (Iran/Iraq) became the first farmers and brewed the first beer in the Euphrates and Tigris rivers area (thought by many to be where “the Garden of Eden” existed; certainly the ancient Hebrews got many of their ancestral stories from their captivity in Babylon in the 6th century B.C.E., and one of those stories, about Noah’s Flood, may have some historical va-lidity, scientists recently learned, with flooding of the Black Sea after the bursting through the Darenells of the Mediterranean Sea around 7500 B.C.E. of the last Ice Age plug).



Also, you might run into a fundamentalist Christian who claims he or she descen-ded from Adam and Eve. Talk about mythological figures.



Beowulf’s “grip of iron” reminds me of Jack London’s Wolf Larsen in London’s novel The Sea Wolf. Larsen possessed a grip of iron, and actor Edward G. Robinson, who played Larsen in the 1941 movie named for the novel, used his grip on actor John Garfield, holding Garfield’s wrists across a table after Larsen went blind and his ship started sinking. Actually, the actor Robinson probably stood no taller than 5-6, but being a good actor, he made viewers believe he possessed such great strength. I forget what happened at the end. London, a famous American writer in the early years of the 20th century, coined the phrase “The Great White Hope,” in his effort to get the previous, white, heavyweight boxing champion, Jim Jeffries, to come out of retirement and challenge Jack Johnson, the first black champion. Johnson, from Galveston, won the fight against Jeffries in 1910. At 40, London killed himself in 1916.

So we probably came from a Viking culture, as far back as when the Vikings fought each other. Then they began raiding poorly guarded treasure in Europe, mainly in England and France, in the 700s, and many settled in western and northwestern France, intermarrying with the French and, mainly later, after 1066, with the Celtic tribes in England, plus the Anglo-Saxons, Jutes and Friesians who earlier invaded England. This brings up another oddity. Those of us who grew up listening to Winston Churchill in World War II (I am one) got the false idea -- promoted by Eng-land’s victories at sea against the Spanish Armada in 1588, Lord Horatio Nelson’s triumph at Trafalgar against Napoleon’s fleet in 1805, and the Duke of Wellington’s surprising success, thanks to the late arrival of the Prussians, at Waterloo in 1815, that what Shakespeare called the Septered Isle never suffered defeat. In fact, England may be the most conquered piece of real estate on the planet.

The Vikings (later Normans) found life easier in France and England, if only be- cause of the weather. The same thing happened earlier to many of the barbarian hordes from the eastern steppes that attacked Roman cities. They liked the life they saw and began to be influenced (civilized) by it. Many biblical scholars think the same thing happened even earlier, more than a thousand years before Christ, to the ancient nomadic Hebrews, who fought the Philistines and Canaanites, then settled east of Canaan and began farming, then took over Canaan and its gods El, Baal and Asherah, jettisoning Baal and Asherah, and renaming El for their own supreme being, now referred to as Jehovah (the unpronounceable, consonants-only YHWH, with vowels: Yahweh).

It is interesting to note -- and this, too, may have no legitimate bearing on anything -- that in generations of our family dating back at least to the 19th century many Heards featured red hair, freckles and extremely fair complexions, as does a higher percentage of others descended from Irish forebears (my aunts Bertha and Mag in particular inherited these from their father—and their mother, my grandmother Lizzie Cummings Heard, also of Irish descent (southern Ireland, therefore Catholic), wore beautiful auburn hair in her youth). In addition, my dad and my uncle John also wore heavily freckled faces (and hands), and so did I as a boy.

The portion above about Heardred appeared in the second edition of my genealogy in June 1999. Here is material from JWH regarding some centuries between Heard-red and “Sir” John Heard and his emigration from Ireland in 1719. Europeans gave the name Normans (Northmen) to fierce and roving tribes of Scandinavians also referred to by historians as Vikings. The Northmen, who included our ancestors, began their raids by boats of the coastal regions of northwestern Europe early in the Eighth Century (700s C.E.). Then they penetrated deeper via rivers, even plunder-ing Paris itself, finally forcing King Charles the Simple to cede to Norse ruler Rollo part of Neustria, thereafter called Normandy, for the Northmen, in 911 C.E. (JWH says 912, but the Columbia Desk Encyclopedia dates it one year earlier).

This cession, to a Norse leader named Rollo, occurred 97 years after the death of Charlemagne (Charles the Great), who founded the first empire in Western Eu-rope after the fall of Rome, and who ruled from 800 to 814. Unfortunately for Fran-ce, the monarchs who succeeded Charlemagne all turned out to be weak despite adopting the name Charles. These included Charles the Fat and Charles the Simple.

Probably early in the 10th Century (900s C.E.), soon after the cession, the Scandina-vian Heards (not the spelling at that time—possibly Yerd) settled on lands appor-tioned to them in what became Mayeene Province, 150 miles southwest of Paris and in a southern portion of the new Norman domain.

Our Scandinavian ancestors later fight with William the Conqueror, a descendant of Viking chieftain Rollo, in the Battle of Hastings in southern England, Oct. 14, 1066 (The Normans landed on Sept. 28). The Heards in the Norman Invasion by this time go by the name “De Herde” (similar to Charles De Gualle) In one of the translations of Beowulf (there are dozens) Heardred is rendered Heardred, close to the De Herde of those Norsemen who fought with William of Orange at Hastings. They changed it to the more Germanic (Anglo-Saxon) name Heard after one Heard wins land in County York, England, for his service in the victory at Hastings and later battles. William ruled gently and sought to ingratiate himself with his new subjects (remember, history usually is written by the winners), but increasing con-spiracies, revolts and an insurrection in the north in 1069 caused him to suppress re-bellion brutally, laying waste to the northeast part of England, especially between York (about 35 miles from the east coast) and Durham (about 60 miles north of York and about 15 miles from the coast). His army killed more than 100,000 peo-ple, and he confiscated their lands. William later gave the Heards some of these lands near Keighley, West Riding, in Yorkshire, as their primary land.





Two of the 72 sections of the Bayeux (buy-you) Tapestry (technically an embroid-ery, not a tapestry), a celebration of Norman duke (not king) William of Orange’s conquest at Hastings in southern England in 1066. William then became a king, of England. The entire tapestry is 231 feet long (77 yards, equal to one of the longest football punts you’ll ever see). It is thought to be the work of an Englishman from the early 1200s, which confirms that the winners write the history. A century and a half after the battle, the Englishman who produced the tapestry would himself have been celebrating the conquest of his own island, because he would have descended from its conquerors. I pick the lower section because it shows Halley’s Comet an inch or so from the right at the top of the second strip (shown heading toward the right). Halley’s is known to have been in the sky in February 1066, and, strange as it may seem to us, got some credit as an “omen” of William’s conquest, even though the Battle of Hastings, 64 miles southeast of London near England’s south-ern coast, did not occur until Oct. 14 of that year. Oh, how we will stretch to incor-porate a superstition into our humdrum history. The tapestry shows little combat, which fits reality, because war is not as much about combat (although we glorify such scenes) as it is about movement to gain an advantage -- much marching and digging-in and marching again. The tapestry shows a lot of the buildup to the battle, the negotiations and the movement of ships, men, horses, weapons, and armament like shields. Bayeus is a small town near the Normandy coast of France not far from Omaha Beach, where allied forces landed on D-Day, June 6, 1944. William first sailed from the mouth of the River Dives, about 15 miles east of Caen, which is 15 miles east of Bayeus. From there, William docked in the bay at St. Valery, the mouth of the River Somme (where a generation of young Englishmen perished in World War I in the Battle of the Somme), thence across the English Channel about 55 miles to Pevensey, west-southwest of Hastings about 15 miles. Illustrations above and below from The Bayeus Tapestry, John Collinwood Bruch, Dorset Press, a division of Marlboro Books Corporation-Bracken Books, New York, 1987, first printed in 1838 in Paris, France, pp. 67 and 134.





Two more of the 72 sections of the Bayeux Tapestry, showing, in the top panel, the death of King Harold of England. Each of the two figures in the top middle, the one standing and holding the shaft of an arrow whose tip is at his head, and the one toppling from a horse, with his sword ready to fall to the ground, is thought to be Harold, according to Grant Wood in his Dark Ages, Facts on File Publications, New York, 1987. The lettering above the top panel reads: “Here King Harold was killed.” It is known that an arrow (probably from a long bow, like the ones the Eng-lish used at Agincourt in 1415) to an eye killed Harold. Harold hurried south to op-pose William, too late, after fighting in the north of England. Another good source is 1066: The Year of the Conquest, David Harworth, Dorset Press, New York, 1977. The depictions of butchered bodies in the tapestry are only slightly less crude than those drawn by AmerIndians (American Indians) after rare victories such as the one over George Armstrong Custer and the 7th Cavalry at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876. Williams’ armament advantage, more long bows against the English battle axe, is a bit puzzling, because the English under Henry V vanquished three times their number 349 years later at Agincourt (1415) in France by employing the long bow at 200 yards to rain down on mounted Frenchmen wearing armor. The tapestry remained little known for six centuries. When Napoleon learned of it, in 1803, he ordered it brought to Paris temporarily during his preparations for invading England (which he never tried, because of the English Navy). Real victor at Hastings: The English language, which absorbed 12,000 French words. Unlike the snooty French, who fight among themselves to see who can better protect the “pur-ity” of their tongue against Incursions, particularly against American pop culture, English always is happy to adopt any foreign word or phrase not already expressed by an English term. That’s why English is the international language today.

Those who love the Winston Churchill of 1940 (I am one), tend to think England never got conquerored. After the Battle of Britain in 1940, where an air force less than a third the size of Hitler’s, fought the Nazis to a draw (over England), Church-ill immortally said, “Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, this was their finest hour.” I particularly loved Church-ill’s pronunciation of “last” (lahst) that gave rise to the unconquered idea. Actually, Britain is one of the most-conquered pieces of real estate anywhere. Various Viking tribes, including the Danes, did it centuries before 1066, and Rome did it centuries before that, holding the southern portion of the island (building “Hadrian’s Wall” to protect themselves from the Picts (Scots) for more than 400 years. And not only did the British Empire fail to last for a thousand years, the empire soon dissolved after World War II. But the commonwealth survives. Canady, Australia and New Zea-land still consider themselves as part of Britain’s commonwealth, making formal bows to the English monarch (as American women do for Prince William’s wed-ding in 2011. Even India holds a soft spot for things British (like cricket). Or some Indians do. However, in any important sense all those are free and independent countries. See the Sioux drawing after the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876 for its similarityto the Bayeau Tapestry.



The Heard Family Coat of Arms (see text below).

The “demi-goat” half body at top is the salient (the posture of the animal leaping) “attired or ducally gorged” (encircled around the throat with a Ducal Coronet). The chevron (thick, inverted “v” in “gules” or red) on the shield of the Heard Coat of Arms represents the rafter of a roof, emblematic of stability (loyalty) and is used only by those families whose ancestors participated in positions of responsibility in the Norman invasion of 1066. Three crescents (bowl-shaped, quarter-moon designs with the tips at both ends jutting upward and painted in “argent,” or silver or white) on the chevron have two interpretations, both indicating service in at least one of the Crusades, 1187-1291), but here there are three, indicating participation in all three crusades. Genealogists think a Heard participated at least in the Third Cru-sade, 1187-1191, commanded by Richard the Lionhearted of England. There are three black water bougets on the coat of arms, two above the chevron and one be-low. A “bouqet” is two bags of animal skin on a stick, used to carry drinking water for the Crusaders. At the crest of the coat of arms is a demi-goat (leaping but with its hind legs hidden behind a bar atop the coat of arms, with a ducal coronet around its throat; the goat symbolizes the chase), and the family motto on a scroll beneath the shield is “Audior,” from the Latin verb “to hear” and is literally translated “heard.” In our line of the family, the word sometimes is translated to mean “I will listen” or “I will hear,” either rendering is a peculiar notion for such a voluble group. Other families, Yards, Yerds, Herds, etc., carry this coat of arms, according to my dad’s 1957 genealogy.

The Third Crusade occurred about a century before Venetian Marco Polo 1254-1324?) travelled to far-off Cathay (China). In 1455 German printer Johann Gutenberg, who invented movable type, printed the Mazarin Bible. Some think Dutch-man Laurens Janszoon Koster and/or Italian Pamfilo Castaldi invented movable type earlier.

14th Century, the 1300s, in which period the Shroud of Turin, the alleged burial cloth of Jesus, is created according to carbon dating. To concentrate on either the so-called Holy Grail or the Shroud of Turin is idolatry. It is to focus not on what we are led to believe Jesus taught and instead concern ourselves with alleged arti-facts of his life that Jesus himself would have dismissed as next to worthless.

In succeeding centuries, Heards settled along the north coast of County Devon (the southwestern-most point of England except for Cornwall). For example, records show at least 14 John Heards born in 14 different Devon towns between the years 1533 and 1598. 1533 is 41 years after Christopher Columbus set sail with three ships, the Niña, Pinta, and Santa Maria, from Polus, Spain, on Aug. 3, 1492. He sighted Watling Island in today’s Bahama group on Oct. 12. Four other John Heards are known to have lived in Cornwall between 1530 and 1557, and other Heards lived in County Essex on England’s east coast (immediately northeast of London). One Sir Isaac Heard (we don’t know if “Earle” John Heard descended from him) presented to Queen Elizabeth a frigate, armed and equipped, to help repel the Spanish Armada of 1588, 24 years after the birth of William Shakespeare, 1564-1616. Galileo Galilei also is born in 1564 (d. 1642). Michelangelo died in 1564.

King Henry II (1133-1189) of England attempted to take “peaceful” possession of Ireland in the 12th Century, and for the next four hundred years the Irish remained in rebellion, with the English controlling only a small portion of the island (north). The Irish launched all-out war late in the 16th Century, and enjoyed initial success under chieftain Hugh O’Neil, Earl of Tyrone, but the English crush the insurgents in 1603 and redistributed more than 600,000 acres to leaders among the victorious English leaders. Twice again before 1650, the Irish rise up only to be smashed, with the loss of additional lands. The Heards of West Riding, County York, contributed large sums of money to the suppression of the rebels. For “services to the crown,” probably soon after 1603, Heards won estates near Aiglish, County Tyrone, Ire-land. By the time the Heards (“Earle” John Heard and his 11 children) emigrated to America in 1719 and 1720, they became so thoroughly Irish they spoke only Gaelic, which John spoke the remainder of his long life (he lived to be at least 101 after being captured by the British at age 100 in Wilkes County, Georgia, and being freed from the Augusta, Georgia, stockade by a grandson named Barnard when Ameri-can forces retook Augusta in 1781).

The second Stephen Heard, grandson of “Sir” John Heard and son of John Heard’s third son John (the first Stephen counted as his second son), founded Fort Heard in 1779 in what is now Washington, Georgia (the first town or state named for George Washington, in 1780, with the revolution still being fought). Fort Heard became the temporary capital of Georgia when the Georgia Assembly abandoned Augusta on Feb. 5, 1780, and went to Fort Heard (about 50 miles northwest of Au-gusta) after the British took Savannah. In the absence of Gov. Richard Howley, who attended the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, George Wells, as president of the Assembly (or Council), served as acting governor, but he died on Feb. 18, 1780, and the Council elected Stephen, who became acting governor.

Here we come across another delicious story, like “The Irish dog has your daugh-ter,” that, a pity, also turns out not to be true, although there may be some relation to a historical event, just as the “Irish dog” story turned out to be partially true for a son of the original Stephen (Jesse), and to have taken place in this country and not overseas. The problem with this story is that the Rebels defeated the Tories at Kettle Creek, not the other way around (the Tories threw their cooking kettles in the creek, giving it its name). Stephen and other Heards fought with 500 Rebels against 700 Tories (Loyalists) at War Hill on Kettle Creek, and Stephen numbered among 23 Rebels wounded and captured by the Tories and turned over to the British at the stockade at Fort Cornwallis in Augusta. So it is more likely the Rebels captured some wounded Tories. Stephen owned a huge slavewoman named Mammy Kate, probably 6 feet or more and weighing over 200 pounds, and Kate visited her master with the permission of the British, whose ruffled shirts she ironed to win their favor. She asked if she could take Stephen’s laundry and return with clean clothes. “He won’t need them. We will soon hang that rebel,” said the jailer. “Let him hang in clean clothes,” begged Kate. They granted this request, allowing her to go back and forth to the prison twice a week and return his clothes for washing (JWH) says she made only one trip). (John Wilkerson Heard of San Antonio, whom I interviewed in 1984; I interviewed him and attorney Oliver Heard of san Antonio at the same time to see if either possessed a “Robert Lee Heard Jr.” in their line of ancestors; my late brother John G Heard and his wife Joanna gave me an 1867 silver beaker (drinking vessel) that they found and purchased for $300 to give to me; neither John Wilkerson nor Oliver did; I since came to the conclusion that the Robert Lee Heard Jr., or rather his father (Sr.) got named for that same Lee who came out of the Mexi- American War as the most-famous junior officer in that “conflict”; the 19th century boy with my name received the beaker from his “grandfather” and “Gmother” (more male dominance) got named earlier for the civil war commander; indeed, the Civil War commander probably got offered the command of the Union armies be-cause of his exploits in the earlier war, if not for his capture of John Brown and his band in 1859 at Harper’s Ferry. The Heard captured by the British in the 18th century, Stephen, a small man (we later Heards got our size from grandmother Lizzie’s Cummings Heard’s ancestors, who included the “Strongman” who became my great grandfather), curled up in Mama’s large laundry basket, and she carried him out on top of her head.

This capture story is not to be confused with the capture of the second Stephen’s 100-year-old grandfather, “Sir” John Heard, also incarcerated in the Augusta stock-ade before another grandson, Barnard, freed the old man after Rebel forces retook the town in 1781. Incidentally, the last “cabinet” meeting for the Confederacy took place in the Heard Mansion in Washington, Georgia, but Jeff Davis subsequently got captured before he could flee to Cuba.

Apparently a true story from this period, however, quoted by JWH from The Story of Washington-Wilkes, says Loyalists drove Stephen’s wife and child out of their cabin into a snowstorm in his absence and burned the cabin. The wife and child died of exposure. They make a bigger deal about the Heards in Georgia than Texans do about the Heards here. I admit these old stories are cinfusing regarding who did what.

The second Stephen’s younger brother, Thomas (1742-1808), the Heard from whom we are descended, served as a captain in the American Revolution and then in the Georgia Legislature in 1795.

Here, with additions, is the direct line from “Sir” John Heard to Wyatt Hubbard Heard, as printed by my father, Dow H. Heard Sr., for the family on June 9, 1957. Those in the direct line to Wyatt Hubbard Heard and Mary Elizabeth Cummings Heard, and the 10 children of WHH and MECH are underscored. For the sentence or two added to each name to give historical perspective, I am mainly indebted to four books: The Almanac of American History, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., general editor (who later served in the White House with John F. Kennedy), John S. Bowman, executive editor, Barnes & Noble Books, New York, 1993; The New York Times PAGE ONE Commemorative Edition 1896-1996, by Adolph S. Ochs, Galahad Books, New York, 1996; The Film Encyclopedia, Ephraim Katz, Third Edition, HarperPerennial, New York, New York, 1998 (last Oscar awards listed are for 1996 movies); and the Cambridge Biographical Encyclopedia, David Crystal, editor, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1995. In some cases, like the plot to assassinate Hitler on July 20, 1944, I am indebted to other books, in that case, William L. Shirer’s The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: The Story of Nazi Germany, pp. 1047-1071, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1960.

1670s? Birth decade (?) of “Sir” John Heard, who, in a dispute over tithes, uses a pitchfork to run off a minister of the established church, then emigrates from Ang-lish, County Tyrone, Ireland, to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (JWH says Virginia) in 1719 (13 years before George Washington is born in 1732) as a widower with six sons and five daughters. Since he counts 11 children in 1719, he probably is at least 45 years old, meaning he would have been born around 1675 (JWH says 1680, and may be right -- check 1781, when John is freed by one of his grandsons as a British prisoner in Augusta GA at age 100-plus). He marries his second wife, Ester La Pierre, on July 10, 1722. He goes down the coast to Charleston, South Carolina, “where he must have remained sometime,” according to my father’s 1957 docu-ment.


One story says he lived to be more than 100 years old and spoke nothing but Gaelic his entire life. For historical perspective, let’s call Sir John’s birth year 1675. That’s the year King Philip’s War begins at Plymouth in what now is eastern-most Massachusetts. Philip, a Wampanoag Indian (real name: Metacomet), realizes growing English settlements soon will push all Indians out of the colony, so he recruits other tribes to join him in raiding those settlements. New Englanders today don’t dwell on the history of their own barbarism against the Indians (scalping began as an Anglo-American practice, to prove how many of the “savages” a settler killed).


John Heard almost certainly is an Angilican, and with his pitchfork he rebels against the established church, meaning the Church of England, established in 1534 by Henry VIII after Pope Clement VII refuses to annual his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, who bore six daughters (only one survived infancy) but no male heir. John lives in Tyrone County in Protestant Northern Ireland, making his obstinacy more perilous. Of course, all Christians in Western Eu-rope professed the Roman Catholic faith (except, perhaps, for primitive Bap-tists, or so say some Baptists) prior to Martin Luther’s nailing his Ninety-Five Theses to the doors of the church at Wittenberg in Germany in 1517.


When citing Luther’s great contribution to Christianity -- band it is monu-mental – one also must consider what drew Luther to the Roman Catholic priesthood in the first place. However, we also must ask if the church ever apologized for Pope Leo X (reigned 1513-1521) for approving the sale of indulgencies to restock the church’s treasury that his lavish living style depleted.

Ancient institutions and traditions resist change, and after Henry VIII broke with the Vatican, many in England and Ireland secretly (on pain of death) re-mained Catholic while publicly performing what they needed to (tithes, atten-dance at church, sacraments such as baptism, marriage and death controlled by the Anglican Church) to escape sanctions. These resisters are remembered as recusants (REK-you-zents), people who rebel against authority, specific-ally Roman Catholics in England and Ireland in the 1500s, 1600s and 1700s, who rejected the Anglican Church.


They seldom do it publicly, however. I learned this from a 1998 biography of Shakespeare, by Oxford-educated-writer Anthony Holden (Little, Brown and Company, Boston, New York, London) ­-- similarly, there is always a new book on cosmology, as I learned from the late McDonald Observatory director Harlan Smith. Shakespeare’s father numbered among the recusants. Elected bailiff (mayor) of Stratford in 1568 in his mid-30s, and charged with enforcing the laws of the Anglican Church, which he did reluctantly, John Shakespeare paid personal fines for nonattendance at church on several oc-casions, sometimes employing the bogus excuse he needed to avoid creditors. It seems clear William grew up trained both as an Anglican (publicly) and a Catholic (privately). In 1757, 156 years after the father’s death in 1601, workmen replacing tile in the father’s home on Henley Street in Stratford (still owned by one of John’s descendants) discovered between the tiles and the rafters a packet of 14 articles that in effect profess the Roman Catholic faith (Holden, p. 25). Many recusants owned such material, printed in Rome and smuggled into England, which they hid from authorities. Evidence from the son’s plays, sonnets and philandering ways (particularly as expressed in the sonnets) indicate William held no (controlling) religion as a mature man, but clearly his childhood training involved both faiths.


Scholars contend our language changed less in the 400-plus years since Shakespeare than it did in the 200 years between Chaucer and Shakespeare. They say that is true because we didn’t want to lose Shakespeare. True. But an argument could be made that the same thing is true because we didn’t want to lose the King James Version of the Bible. Both no doubt are true. Indeed, some think, citing unconfirmed tradition, that Shakespeare and fellow playwright Ben Jonson collaborated “to polish up the Psalms as we know them” in the King James (Holden, p. 290).


The Cummingses, of course, come from the south of Ireland in the late 18-40s after the Potato Famine and would have been Catholic. However, in the late 19th century no non-Hispanic Catholic Church exists in Uvalde County, the closest probably being in San Antonio (or perhaps Castroville), 100 miles and four-traveling-days to the east. The Cummings by the late 1800s prob-ably already switched to Protestant faiths in earlier times. Wyatt Hubbard Heard and Mary Elizabeth “Lizzie” Cummings Heard traded the land on which the Heard/Church three miles above Reagan Wells is built in 1909, where Baptist services are held, for a lot or lots in Reagan Wells. This is where the Heard Reunion is held each year on the Saturday nearest June 23, Lizzie’s birthday (June 23) in 1877 (also her dad’s, in 1850).


It is a mystery to me how WHH and MECH ever got together, yet they eloped UP the Dry Frio Canyon in 1895.


1695? Birth decade of the original “John” (JWH says 1700, but that would make

John only 15 when he married, not at all unusual for a woman centuries ago, but most unusual for a man; although Shakespeare aged about 18 when he married a woman, Anne Hathaway, 26, in 1582) Stephen Heard, second son and second child of John, who stays behind in 1719 in Ireland a year to settle his father’s affairs, would have been about 20. Stephen marries Lady Mary Falkner in 1721. 1695: At about this time, some plains Indians, probably a branch of Shoshones in what is now eastern Wyoming, obtain horses (which the Spanish brought over to the New World). An unattractive and runty peo-ple, these Indians become known as Comanches, and no warriors in the history of the world better master the horse or fight more savagely. They sweep down through Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas. The Spanish invite Ang-lo-American settlement in Texas in the early 1820s (Stephen Austin’s father Moses) specifically to create a barrier between themselves and the Coman-ches. But the Anglos mostly choose river-bottom lands in southeast Texas. Thirty-seven years after 1695, George Washington is born in 1732. Steph-en’s death year, 1774, comes two years before the American Revolution. He dies in Pittsylvania County, Virginia. In 1696, extensive slave trading is in-itiated by New Englanders, after the English Royal African Trade Company loses its monopoly in the slave trade. The Almanac of American History, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. (who worked in John Kennedy’s White House), general editor, John S. Bowman, executive editor, Barnes & Noble Books, New York, 1993, p. 69.

1737, birth year of William Gulley in North Carolina, sired by the Gulley who

emigrated to North Carolina (year, first name and country of origin un-known). Three years before 1737, German-born newspaper publisher John Peter Zenger is arrested on Nov. 17, 1734, on a charge with seditious libel for articles in his New York Weekly Journal critical of New York Gov. William Cosby. Zenger is held in prison for 10 months before he is put on trial in 1735. Philadelphia lawyer Andrew Hamilton ably defends Zenger (this is where we got the phrases, “Hire a Philadelphia lawyer” and “You can’t beat a Philadelphia lawyer”). Hamilton persuades the jury the articles about the governor are not libelous because they are true. Truth, previously irrel-evant, thereby becomes a complete defense against a charge of libel, a major step in America’s adoption of freedom of the press. Almanac, p. 84. William Gulley is born five years after George Washington’s birth (1732) and six years before Thomas Jefferson’s (1743). William (his surname is spelled Gully after 1792, but his two brothers and later family members, including William’s heirs, consistently spell it Gulley) and Beathanea (called Bethany) Hinnant (birth year unknown) are believed to have married in 1764, because she gave birth to their first child, Sarah, on Nov. 10, 1765. Her 10th of 11 children, John Gulley, came on March 4, 1788, in Duplin County, North Carolina. John marries Nancy Bizzell on Feb. 13, 1809, and she gives birth to Harvey Gulley, this writer’s great-grandfather, on May 10, 1831.

Sometime in the mid-1700s, the Heards in Virginia (before Thomas moved to Georgia after the Revolution) bought Arabian horses from George Washington. This is not a special feather our cap because Washington, the wealthiest man in Virginia, no doubt sold horses to lots of people.

A younger brother of Stephen, John, named one of his children Stephen, 1740-1815), who twice served as temporary governor of Georgia during the American Revolution, 1780-82. Georgia later named a county on the Alabama border south west of Atlanta Heard County in honor of this second Stephen. Neither JWH’s nor our line of the Heard family descends from the governor. One of the first of Steph en’s children, Jesse, is the JWH ancestor back to Stephen and his father “Sir” John. A younger brother of Jesse, Thomas, is our ancestor. My father’s genealogy in 1957 shows Jesse as having two other younger siblings before Thomas got born in 1742. Unless the two in-between siblings, George and (yet another) Stephen, are twins, this seems impossible.

Also in 1780, on March 1, the Pennsylvania Assembly enacts legislation mandating the gradual abolition of slavery. Also in 1780, New York and Connecticut cede to the Union their claims to western lands. In 1781, Jan. 17, American Gen. Daniel Morgan, with 1,040 men, defeats British Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton with 1,100 men in the Battle of the Cowpens in South Carolina with a feinting move forward in front of two elevations and a double enveloping maneuver that nearly destroys Tarleton and ever after is studied by generals all over the world.

Some of our Heard ancestors fought with William the Conqueror and his Normans or Northmen (in northwestern and western France) at the Battle of Hastings in southern England in 1066 C.E. (common era). Those Heards, then called “de Herde,” emigrated centuries earlier from ScanScandinavia. The name became the more Germanic Heard in England, and our ancestors later emigrated to Northern Ireland, thence to America in 1719.

1742, Thomas Heard, fourth son and fourth child of Stephen Heard andMary

Falkner, is born in Virginia in 1742 and dies in 1808. He serves as a captain in the American Revolution and for his service receives “troop bounties” and “land warrants.” 1742 is the year before Thomas Jefferson is born on April 13, 1743. In 1743, Benjamin Franklin helps establish the American Philosophical Society, limited to those who distinguish themselves in science, philosophy or literature. Franklin becomes the society’s president in 1769 and remains in that post until his death in 1790. Franklin is so successful in pub-lishing, printing and bookselling he retires at 37 and devotes himself to public service. Almanac, p. 87. (In 1775, Franklin and Dr. Benjamin Rush of Phila-delphia establish the first slavery-abolition society in America. Almanac, p. 117.) In 1742 German composer George Frideric (sic) Handel (b. Feb. 23, 1685) writes his Messiah, one of the 10 greatest musical compositions ever, but that assessment needs leveling by one of Mark Twain’s great lines in Huckleberry Finn, “Music is a good thing,” meaning by itself, without regard to what inspired it or what it may be used for. The same can be said of magnificent church cathedrals. (Compare Hitler’s insistence that Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony be played on loudspeakers in the streets of Staingrad in 1943; search for Fifth Symphony below). Unfortunately, many of Handel’s other compositions, particularly for sopranos, sound like scales or caterwauling to me. After the American Revolution, Thomas moves to Georgia.

1770, March 5, in what becomes known as the Boston Massacre, an angry

Boston mob confronts British troops stationed in Boston. The soldiers fire pointblank into the mob, killing three, mortally wounding two and injuring six. A free black man, Crispus Atticus, largely responsible for provoking the crowd, is killed. The great role of Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mocking-bird is played by Gregory Peck. Four days later, Massachusetts Gov. Thomas Hutchison orders the arrest for murder of eight British troops, who are tried in October-December 1770 and defended by, among others, John Adams, who six years later will lead the Continental Congress to declare in-dependence from England. A civil jury acquits Captain Thomas Preston and six of his men; two other soldiers are convicted of manslaughter and are punished with branding, then released. On Dec. 16, 1770, Ludwig van Beethoven is born. He dies in 1827 at 57, stone deaf in his final years, inclu-ding when he finished the Ninth Symphony, inspired by his friend Johann Schiller’s poem Ode to Joy. The Ninth perhaps is the greatest piece of music ever created. It is adopted two centuries later as the anthem of the Euro-pean Union.

1773, Dec. 16, eight thousand Bostonians meet at the Old South Church to

hear Samuel Adams, cousin of John Adams, tell them that Massachusetts Gov. Thomas Hutchison will not permit British ships to leave the harbor without payment by colonists of the duty on tea. That night, a group of ac-tivists disguised as Mohawk Indians board the tea ships and dump all 342 casks of tea into the water in what becomes known as the Boston Tea Party. Almanac, p. 113. Two centuries plus later, an offshoot of the Republican Party call themselves the Tea Party (they mainly hate Barrack Obama, be-cause he is half black). A year later, April 22, 1774, a private consignee se-cretly tries to unload tea in New York Harbor in defiance of the colonial tea embargo, and members of the New York Sons of Liberty, disguised as In-dians, dump the tea in the harbor. Almanac, p. 113.

1775, Thomas Heard (son of Thomas) is born as the third son and seventh

child of the first Thomas Heard and Elizabeth Fitspatrick (this is a cor-rection in my father’s 1957 genealogy, which states the first Thomas Heard birthed children with his second wife, Mary Veasy, but later information suggests he got all his children with Elizabeth).

1775, Daniel Boone leads settlers through the Cumberland Gap and founds

Boonesboro, Kentucky. Boone blazed the trail through the gap several times earlier. In his 1775 trip, he led hundreds of settlers, including a man named Abraham Lincoln, the grandfather of the Civil War president. Also in 1775, March 23, Patrick Henry delivers his famous call for American independ-ence from Britain, telling the Virginia Provincial Convention, “Give me liberty, or give me death.” But Henry later opposes the ratification of the 1787 U.S. Constitution. So this writer wishes someonegave him death. The second Thomas Heard dies in 1810 at only 35.

1775, April 1920, British Gen. Thomas Gage orders 700 troops to Concord,

Massachusetts, to destroy the colonial arms depot there. Minutemen at Lexington and Concord oppose the British, touching off the American Revolution. The Minutemen fire at the Redcoats from behind trees, considered un-sporting by the British (who later refuse to put helmets on their troops or allow parachutes in early airplanes in the first year of WWI, calling them un-sporting. Almanac, pp. 109-110.

1776, July 2, the day the Continental Congress votes to accept Thomas Jeffer

son’s Declaration of Independence with Congress’ hundreds of changes. Most of the signings occurred on July 4, plus some on later days, up to and including Aug. 2. Reportedly, King George III made this entry in his diary for July 4: “Nothing important happened today.” Remarkably, we learn from David McCullough’s 2005 book, 1776 (p. 130), that George Washington and his generals urged Congress to declare independence. Generals usually are conservative, supporting the status quo. In a famous clash of political philosophies, Jefferson’s republic of free and independent yeomen, farmers and landowners will lose to Alexander Hamilton’s strong, centralized gov-ernment, run by the rich (The American Civil War insured Hamilton’s vic-tory). Historian Forrest McDonald, perhaps our best scholar on 18th century American political thought, noted in his masterly 1994 The American Presidency: An Intellectual History, pp. 233-234, that at a dinner party in late April 1793, Jefferson, John Adams and Hamilton discussed the best form of government. Adams thought the British system, minus its corruption, the best. Hamilton thought the British system, with its corruption, the best (I suppose he imagined rich guys [who proved their superiority by gaining riches] would bribe their way into powerful political positions). At that in-stant,says McDonald, Jefferson determined to oppose Hamilton, and from that determination grew the first political party in America, Jefferson’s Republican-Democratic Party, which later became the Democratic Party, opposed initially by the Federalists, who became the Whigs, who became, in 1854, the Republican Party (in Lincoln’s Illinois in 1856).


Alexander Hamilton also is the man we must thank, or curse, for promo-ting the idea of corporations. The much-praised-by-liberals 14th Amendment after the Civil War, which led to the extension of the Bill of Rights to the states, known as the Doctrine of Incorporation (by the U.S. Supreme Court in the late 19th century, but gained strength in the 20th Century with the decent of Union veteran Oliver Wendell Holmes in the Gitlow vs. New York decision ), also gave birth to the notion that corporations are entitled to the status of entities that could be citizens and sue and be sued in court. What Hamilton held in mind is that corruption is good in the sense the monarchy could reward the most talented people who bribed their way into office (with money they got that proved their merit; you know, making money “proves” one is smart). What Jefferson held in mind is an aversion to anything resembling a bribe, or aristocracy, for that matter. Today, of course, corporations run our lives. It would take the most potent enema in history to rid ourselves of the curse of corporate control, made worse in a 2008 decision by a 5-4 decision (with the late appointment by the dumbest president in our history of Justices John Roberts and Samuel Alito) stating that corporations may contribute any amount of money to political candida-tes or campaigns. The reader would be surprised at how little even most lawyers know about the Doctrine of Incorporation. Guess which poliical party that decision favors.

1787. The greatest political document ever struck off at one time by the hand of

man (so said, among others, British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, 1804-1881, who twice served in that high office, 1868 and 1874-1880), the U.S. Constitution).That document and its first 10 amendments (the Bill of Rights) contained four major and two minor flaws. What would anyone expect? More than the normal amount of men at the 1787 convention came with superior educations of outstanding brains. But they hoped to craft a democracy (as they saw it) never tried before in the history of the world.

They failed miserably, but also inevitably, to deal with slavery (only our worst-ever war 74 years later answered that question; there would have been no United States if the Founders insisted on abolishing slavery).

Second: It gave each state two U.S. senators and a minimum of three electo-ral votes (one for each senator and one for a single representative, based on a tiny population, like Wyoming’s) in presidential races.

Third: It allowed the candidate with the second highest vote total for presi-dent to become vice president even if he (they didn’t think of women) advo-cated a different political philosophy than the winner.

Fourth: The Second Amendment is vague enough to allow gun nuts to claim it gives them the right to own any firearm or bazooka or flamethrower or bomb they wish to possess. (Actually, I’ve felt for some time that liberals like me ought to tolerate gun nuts so long as they don’t attack the First Amendment. The problem is, in recent years, the religious kooks, most of whom support the National Rifle Association, have attacked the First Amendment by supporting entanglement of church and religion, by wanting all taxpayers to pay for school vouchers for tuition to private (read church) schools, and by wanting “Creationism” or “Intelligent Design” to be taught in public schools alongside evolution. “Creationism” and “Intelligent Design” have nothing to do with science. They are based on faith, religious faith, and cannot be duplicated in a laboratory. They should be taught, if at all, in the home or at church, places where, in a free country, faith without evidence in whatever superstition one favors may be allowed or even cham-pioned.


Imagine the beauty of the Founders’ product if Charles Darwin preceded them by 73 years instead of trailed them by that period.


Many people want their kids taught ”Intelligent Design” together with evolu-tion (because evolution is needed for admittance to most colleges -- all the good ones). They also want “prayer in schools.” All of that is possible with-out involving schools. Simply teach your kids “Intelligent Design” at home. Or let teachers in your church teach them that. How about that? Plenty of praying goes on in public schools, anyway, particularly before tests that kids aren’t prepared for. A ban on praying in schools never won recognition. Goes on all the time. What is prohibited is government prayer in schools, official prayer in schools, which backers always want to be Christian prayer, in a time paid for by all taxpayers.

Why not teach a Christian faith in a setting and at a time paid for by a large majority of the taxpayers, who call themselves Christians? Glad you asked. (Incidentally, that’s precisely what Muslim countries do today regarding their faith; talk to them about separation of church and state, and they’ll look at you like you have three heads.) The Founders’ sole motive for the Bill of Rights involved protection of the rights of the minority against the majority. A guy (or gal today) can stand aside from the majority, hold a dif-ferent opinion from the majority, and not suffer retaliation. That’s what it means to be free. Some Founders thought they didn’t need a Bill of Rights, that those guarantees are implied in the original document. Not so, others argued. If you don’t spell it out, and do it now, some will come along later and say the majority must rule, in all things, all the time. But that’s a tyran-ny, too.

Think of the balancing act the Founders performed. With no guidelines! It ain’t easy being green, as Kermit the Frog would say a couple of centuries later.

Besides, the Founders did not think their work would last two-plus centur-ies. Jefferson thought the Tree of Liberty needed the nourishment of the blood of revolutionaries every 20 years or so. The Founders kept the Constitution short, with room to stretch, like a well-designed, spare house. And if it did last a long time, it applied only to the federal government, not the states (before the Civil War).

We know now that later men in our federal government accidentally exten-ded the federal document to the states, when they wrote the 14th Amendment (this is why some Republicans want to repeal that amendment) to make sure the former slave states did not mistreat their former slaves. It took many years for our judges to understand that the men who wrote the 14th Amendment did not use language applying solely to former slaves, any-more than the original document talked about slavery -- it spoke only of “free persons” being counted in reference to representation in Congress and regarding taxation, with the number of those persons “bound to service for a term of years” (indentured servants) being added to “free persons,” but that “all other persons” [meaning male slaves over 21] but not Indians) should be counted as three-fifths of a person. The North objected to the use of the word “slave” in a majestic document covering the entire country. The South could live with that, but the South wanted its slaves to count for something. That would give the South greater clout in what everyone expected to be a weak federal government, so the two sides compromised by counting each adult male slave (“other person”) as three-fifths of a person.


Seeking to protect former slaves from former slaveholders after the Civil War, congressmen wrote these words at the end of the first section of the five-section 14th Amendment: “ . . . nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” It takes three-quar-ters of the states to amend the Constitution. The 13th Amendment, ratified by three-quarters of the states on Dec. 6, 1865, abolished slavery, leaving no class of “other persons” qualified for the five-fifths of a person mentioned in the original Constitution. Three-fourths of the states ratified the 14th Amendment on July 9, 1868. Lawyers began to argue that the language of the 14th Amendment applied to everyone, not merely to former slaves. The U.S. Supreme Court did not begin to agree with that argument until the 18-90s, and not until much later after a dissent by Oliver Wendell Holmes in the 1925 Gitlow v. New York case, where New York convicted socialist Benjamin Gitlow of violating its law against distribution of socialist liter-ature.

Thereafter, the high court accepted what is called the Doctrine of Incorporation, which means the entire Bill of Rights no longer applies merely to the federal government but is extended to all the states and municipalities as well.

James Madison, considered by most scholars the Father of the Constitution (Jefferson served as ambassador to France in 1787) helped create the compromise (called the Connecticut Compromise or the Roger Sherman Compromise) with the small states on congressional representation and with the Electoral College. One of my favorite authors, Forrest McDonald, says on pp. 163 and 176 of his American Presidency: An Intellectual History, University of Kansas Press, 1994, that Pierce Butler of South Carolina hatched the idea that became the Electoral College on Aug 31, 1787. With-out a scheme like the Electoral College, the small states would not have voted for the Constitution. The Founders always intended the representa-tion in the “lower House” would be based on population. Would there be a Senate? If so, would it also be based on population? Yes and no. Each state would get two senators, regardless of population, and each state would get two electoral votes, one for each of its senators, plus one for its representa-tive in the House (if its population merited only one, more if it counted higher population) in elections of the president and the vice president.


So the Electoral College is skewed to favor the small states like Wyoming, which get slightly more weight in the selection of president and vice presi-dent than their population would justify if measured strictly on population vs. the population of the larger states.

That August 1787 compromise meant we would not have a pure democracy, but neither did ancient Greece. Like the new Americans, Athenian Greeks did not allow women to vote. Neither could the majority of the population in Athens vote – the slaves.

This writer finished the 12th grade in high school in Atlanta, Georgia, at ages 16 and barely 17 (1946-1947). The popular debating topic for speech clas-ses then centered on this proposition: “Should the County Unit System Be Abolished?” Georgia used what it called the “County Unit System,” which meant the most rural and least-populated county got two county units (bes-towed on the candidate or proposition that achieved 51 percent of the vote) in each statewide election, while Fulton County (Atlanta) got six county units. That meant a voter in the county with the smallest population wielded almost 2,500 times more weight than a citizen of Atlanta. Every debater wanted to take the affirmative side of that debate, because it seemed grossly unfair for the vote of a farmer in the smallest county equaled the votes of nearly 2,500 voters in Atlanta. Georgia abolished that system many years ago. The Electoral College isn’t that lopsided in the weight given to, say, Wyoming, but the principle is the same.

The U.S. Supreme Court applied in 1962’s Baker v. Carr the same demo-cratic principle that Georgia did when it abolished the County Unit System. The high court forced Tennessee to redistrict (after refusing to do so for half a century despite the Federal Constitution’s mandating redistricting every decade, using the latest U.S. census. That high-court decision, called Baker vs. Carr today is called the “one-man, one-vote” decision. All states are required to redistrict every 10 years. Yet Vladmir Putin correctly told George W. Bush in Bush’s second term, “Your Electoral College isn’t exactly one-man, one-vote.” Nor will it be until we scrap the Electoral College in favor of popular voting. Under popular voting, Al Gore would have become president in 2,000 because he received more than 550,000 more votes than W. (which in my mind stands for “weak-minded’). So a Russian knew more about our system than W.

The Founders never intended for individual citizens to decide who would be

president. They always intended for the states to do that. They feared mob rule, influenced by mountebanks up to no good. Even Madison noted, “If men were angels, we wouldn’t need government.” The curiosity today, giv-en the extension of the Bill of Rights to the states through the post-Civil War 14th Amendment, is why do we not also extend one-man, one-vote power to individuals? And the answer is conservatives still fear mob rule. With some justification. One merely must look at a demogauge like Huey Long of Louisiana in the 1920s and 1930s and, for that matter, at the George W. Bush administration to see constant attempts to influence opinion by promi-sing to do things, like helping Africa’s victims of AIDS (he got Secretary of State Colin Powell to tell the United Nations about Saddam Hussein’s al-leged possession of weapons of mass destruction with that statement, promising money for Africa, if Powell would make that speech), or helping the victims of Hurricane Katrina, and then not following through, in the belief the average voter will forget those promises went unfulfilled.


Indeed, the George W. Bush administration follows the pattern set by Ron

ald Reagan -- spend the federal government into deficits so social pro-grams must be cut.


Actually, an argument can be made that W. proved to be such a poor presi-dent that it allowed us to elect the first (half-)black man, Barack Obama, to the White House. So wwe went from a dullard to a man who could not only graduate from Harvard, he servied as editor of the Harvard Law Review when he attended Harvard Law School.

The Electoral College plagues us to this day, giving more weight to votes in small states like Wyoming than to votes in large states. Four presidents took office with fewer actual votes than another candidate: Massachusetts’ Federalist (later Whig, and later still Republican Party) John Quincy Adams over Tennessee’s Democratic/Republican (later Democratic Party) Andrew Jackson in 1824, 108,740 votes to Jackson’s 153,544 votes; Ohio’s Republican Rutherford B. Hayes over New York’s Democrat Samuel J. Tilden in 1876, 4,036,298 votes to 4,300,590; Ohio’s Republican Benjamin Harrison over New Jersey’s Grover Cleveland in 1888, 5,439,853 votes to 5,540,509; and “Texan” (born in Connecticut and vacations in Ken-nebunkport, Maine) Republican George W. Bush over Tennessee’s Demo-crat Al Gore in 2000, 50,455,158 to 50,982,335 (Gore received more than half a million votes, 527,177, more than Bush). In all four elections, the more conservative candidate won, which explains why conservatives do not want to jettison the Electoral College in favor of a “one-man (woman), one-vote” standard.

Put another way, the candidate with the most votes lost the Electoral Col-

lege vote but won the popular vote by these margins (figures from America History Atlas, C.S. Hammond & Company, Maplewood NJ, 1959):


1824: Andrew Jackson over John Quincy Adams by 44,804 votes

(153, 544 to 108,740) out of a total of 262,284 cast, 38 percent to 32 percent.


1876: Samuel J. Tilden over Rutherford B. Hayes by 264,292 votes (4,300,590 to 4,036,298) out of a total of 8,336,888 cast, 51 percent to 48 percent.


1888: Grover Cleveland (incumbent) over Benjamin Harrison by 100,456 votes (5,540,309 to 5,439,853) out of a total of 10,980,162 cast, 49 percent to 48 percent. Cleveland ran again in 1892 and beat Harrison, making Cleveland the only candidate to win the presidency twice with a gap in between.


2000: Al Gore over George W. Bush by 527,177 votes (50,982,335 to 50,455,158) out of a total of 101,437,493 cast, 50.2598 percent to 49.7401 percent.

It also should be pointed out (as I will again below) that Abraham Lincoln

won the election in 1860 with barely under 40 percent of the popular vote (39.8 percent) against three Democrats, who split the rest of the 60.2 percent of the popular vote. Lincoln carried the electoral vote in Minnesota and Io-wa and in every state east of those two above the Mason-Dixon Line except Maryland, Delaware and New Jersey (New Jersey split its electoral vote be-tween Stephen Douglas and Lincoln), plus Lincoln carried California and Oregon).

But one must remember that Lincoln‘s name did not appear on ballots in seven Southern states.

Most of the West remained territories in 1860. Texas went for John C. Breckenridge, and Missouri’s electoral vote went to Douglas, while Ten-nessee, Kentucky and Virginia (not yet split between Virginia and West Virginia, which occurred during the Civil War) went for John Bell. Ob-viously, we are all glad that Lincoln won with a plurality of the popular vote, 1,856,452 to second-place Douglas’ 1,357,157, Breckenridge’s 847,-953 and Bell’s 590,631 (total for the three Democrats: 2,795,741), even though Lincoln’s election immediately precipitated the Civil War (which would have occurred later-but-inevitably). Lincoln won the electoral vote 180 to 123 total for the other three. With a one-person, one-vote democracy, Lincoln still would have won because he received the most votes of the four candidates. And Gore would have won a plurality of the popular vote and the White House over Bush in 2000.

A clear demonstration of how far we still must travel to reach democracy is

the case of Michael R. Bloomberg, mayor of New York City. A lifelong Democrat, Bloomberg could not obtain the Democratic nomination for ma-yor, so he switched to the Republican Party and used his personal wealth (Fortune Magazine pegs his stash at $5 billion) to buy his way into office in 2001 by spending $73 million of his own money, mainly on television ads. It is true a majority of citizens of New York City in 2006 thought he did a good job. Still, when candidates can buy a public office, we fall well short of a democracy. Elections by popular vote would be an improvement.

In the backroom deal, or "understanding," that decided the 1876 election,

Hayes got the White House, but he agreed to withdraw federal troops from the South, ending Reconstruction 12 years after the Civil War. Except we in Texas still must have a federal agency approve our voting procedure. Did you know that?

Bush -- not only born in Connecticut, but whose family vacation home is in

Kennebunkport, Maine -- won the 2000 election with precisely the 271 elec-toral votes needed for election, to 256 for Gore after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled 5-4 a month after the election that Bush won Florida’s 25 elec-toral votes, giving Bush exactly the minimum electoral vote, 271, needed to win. A decision favoring Gore for the sharply contested, six million Florida votes (some “butterfly” ballots apparently “fooled” many Jews in South Florida into “voting” for Pat Buchanan, which would almost be like their voting for Hitler) would have given Gore a 281-to-246 Electoral College win.

Gore famously predicted Justice Sandra Day O’Connor (appointed by

Ronald Reagan) would never vote to put W. in the White House. But she did, becoming the fifth vote in the 5-4 decision the court declared could never be used as precedent for any other case (in law, following precedent is called stare decisis, Latin for “To stand by things decided,” which judges and lawyers all over the country have been taught to follow, guiding them on cases with similar facts). O’Connor thus joins Roger Taney of the 1857 Dred Scott decision in deciding the most infamous decisions in the court’s history.

W. won “reelection” in 2004 with a “We are at war” (with Islamic terrorists) campaign despite trashing nine days after he first took office (on Jan. 29, 2001), the bipartisan Hart-Rudman Report warning of, among other things, airplanes being used as weapons by terrorists to fly into buildings. Bush said his vice president, Dick Cheney, would study the matter and produce a report. As of Sept. 11, 2001, Cheney did nothing, but the admin-istration threw together a report a few days later. No one paid attention then. Nearly 3,000 Americans lost their lives, the Twin Towers in New York City lay in ruins, and an airliner crashed into the Pentagon.


After invading Afghanistan and defeating the repressive Taliban, Bush de-cided to invade Iraq, claiming its leader, Saddam Hussein, possessed weap-ons of “mass destruction” and might use them on his neighbors, especially Israel. No such weapons are found in Iraq, nor is there established a connec-tion between Iraq and Al Qaeda’s leader, Osama bin Laden, mastermind of the attacks by hijacked airliners (It took Barack Obama to order the ex-execution of Bin Laden on May 1, 2011. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld argued in favor of W. bombing Iraq instead of Afghanistan be-cause the latter holds “no good targets” for bombing, but Iraq did. Four years after the United States attacked Iraq, the total number of American servicemen who lost their lives in Iraq hit 2,000 as of Oct. 25, 2005, 90 percent of them after “Mission Accomplished.” Remember that? Bush, whose job approval rating in late October 2005 dropped below his IQ to 37 percent, landed on an aircraft carrier in May 2003, with him wearing a flight jacket, as if he knew something about the military, and he preened beneath a large sign reading, “Mission Accomplished.” In addition to the 2,000-plus American dead, more than 20,000 suffered major wounds. And many more thousands of Iraqi soldiers and civilians are dead or wounded. Bush continued to preach that Americans died for “a noble cause.”


Noted 2005 bumper sticker:

Bill Lied About Sex

W. Lied About War


Another:


Impeach King George

The Turd


We cured the third major constitutional flaw in 1804 with the 12th Amendment , which makes the person who receives the most electoral votes for vice president shall be the vice president (not the person who receives the second highest electoral vote for president). Following the Bill of Rights’ first 10 amendments and the 11th Amendment, which prohibited national judicial power from deciding suits against a state, the “Doctrine of Incor-poration (see the second paragraph headed by “1924” below) adopted by

the Supreme Court in the 20th century as a result of the language in the post-Civil War 14th Amendment eliminated the 11th Amendment) and extended the Bill of Rights, which originally applied only to the federal government, to the states as well. We haven’t come close to (nor are we likely to) fixing the second major flaw. Why would the small states give up their advantage? Perhaps only an offer to award them the federal lands in their states -- in most Western states, most the land is owned by the federal government, not counting national parks -- in exchange for scrapping the Electoral College might work. Probably not. Although that would appeal to developers (not a group known for brains).

Nor are we likely to cure the fourth major flaw in the Constitution (which is

a flaw only because of what I say is a misinterpretation of the Second Amendment) by forbidding the arming by Americans who are not members of a “well-organized militia,” the conditional language that starts off the Second Amendment. Hard to believe, but philosophical supporters of the Second Amendment argue that every male over 12 belongs to the American militia, knowingly or not.

The two minor flaws in the Constitution are: it did not specifically grant power to the Supreme Court to declare a law unconstitutional (Chief Justice John Marshall held that power is inherent in the court in Marbury v. Madison in 1803). Second: it did not specifically say the vice president would become president, with all the powers of that office, upon the death or dis-ability of the president (John Tyler assumed that logical position in 1841 upon the death of William Harrison).


There’s a twist to Marbury v. Madison. John Adams appointed Marbury a

justice of the peace in the District of Columbia in a “midnight appoint-ment,” a tactic used by many presidents of both parties over the generations. Adams’ successor, Thomas Jefferson wanted to fight the appointment of Marbury, and Jefferson’s secretary of state, James Madison, refused to deliver the commission to Marbury, so Marbury sued Madison. The prin-cipal of “judicial review,” in which courts can decide whether a law or ac-tion is constitutional or not, manifested itself in lower courts earlier, but no occasion rose before Marbury for the Supreme Court to do that.


What Marshall did in 1803 in a 5-0 decision is decide that Congress exce-eded its authority when it passed the Judiciary Act of 1789, which autho-rized mandamus writs (by which courts can compel by order certain ac-tions). Marshall, secretary of state under Adams, nearly qualified himself as a “midnight appointee” and probably failed as secretary of state to grant Marbury his commission merely as an oversight. So Marshall said the high court did not have the power to compel Madison to issue a commission to Marbury. Others argue that the act of 1789 did not empower a succeeding president to deny commissions to the “midnight appointees” of his prede-cessor.

Marshall called the failure to give the commission to Marbury an arbitrary denial of property rights, but the court could not compel a reversal of that action. By showing “judicial restraint,” the high court shamed the Jefferson administration into granting the commission to Marbury. But Jefferson still encouraged members of the House of Representatives to begin impeach-ment proceedings against Marbury. That did not happen.


There’s another way to look at it. Since the Constitution is silent regarding who or what can or should decide what is or is not constitutional, did not Marshall “legislate from the bench”? Of course he did. Should we be glad? Without a doubt.

Even many lawyers today don’t know that Marshall, the conservative Fe-deralist judge whose appointment Adams claimed as the proudest public act of his career, issued at least three other power-grabbing opinions: 1816, that the U.S. Supreme Court can rule on state court decisions; 1819, Con-gress can “make all laws necessary and proper” for carrying out its powers; 1824, Congress can regulate any aspect of interstate commerce without in-erference from states.


Hold on there a goldarned moment. States’-righters thought they agreed to support the Constitution as a restriction on the federal government, not on the states. For example, the First Amendment forbade Congress from estab-lishing a state religion. It did not stop states from adopting an official state religion and supporting it with tax money. And some did. Only 1868’s 14th Amendment after the Civil War and the U.S. Supreme Court’s belated Doctrine of Incorporation in the 20th century (search for Doctrine of Incorporation below), did the “Federal” Bill of Rights get applied to all the states.

So Marshall, hero to conservatives for centuries, legislated from the bench, the bane of all 20th century conservatives, like that idiot Edwin Meece, at-torney general under our sleepiest and most anti-intellectual president in

at least a century, Ronald Reagan. (Incidentally, it’s OK with me if they put Reagan on Mount Rushmore, as GOP worshipers want, so long as they keep his eyes closed, and the GOP pays for it) Meece constantly harped on “original intent,” meaning by the Founders when they wrote the Constitution. What about things like airliners, automobiles, railroad trains, speed boats, trucking, motion pictures, elevators, skyscrapers, nuclear power, machine guns, radio and television, etc.? The Founders held no original intent regarding those. They didn’t exist in 1787. So how do courts adju-dicate controversies involving them?


The reason we still have our original constitution is because bright Founders recognized that that spare document must be allowed to grow with the times. Otherwise, we’d be on our fifth or 10th or 20th constitution by now.


Of course, Marshall proved correct. We wouldn’t have a federal govern-ment if that entity could not be superior to “states rights” on issues like those he wrote about in 1816, 1819 and 1824. And we forever decided the issue of conflicts between the federal government and “states rights” at Appomattox. Only the historically retarded fail to recognize this. They may win short-term victories, but we will always go back to what makes sense.





George Washington, the indispensable man. He led America to victory in the 1775-1783 Revolutionary War. He could have become king at that point but chose “to walk away from power,” quelling the anger, and prompting the tears, of his unpaid of-ficers after the conflict by the simple human act of taking out his glasses while saying he regretted growing old in the service of his country. (Washington, and then Franklin Roosevelt, exceeded Reagan as actors in office, and Reagan proved better than most.) Washington alone could have chaired the 1787 Constitutional Convention and served as the first president of the republic. The father of Robert E. Lee, Richard Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee, authored the best statement about Washington after the latter’s death: “First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.” Perhaps we should credit George’s grim look to the ivory teeth (not wooden) he wore. On Napoleon’s deathbed in 1821 on the South Atlantic Island of St. Helena, the most-feared man in Europe said, “They expected me to be another Washington.” Only one other major figure in history, the Roman citizen-general (Lucius Quinctius) Cincinnatus (5th century, B.C.E.), similarly walked away from power, returning to his farmer’s plow after saving Rome as its dictator. Photo from the cover of Forrest McDonald’s The Presidency of George Washington, University of Kansas Press, 1974. Incidentally, if you can find any book on late 18th century America by McDonald -- there are many of them, most published by Kansas; except for his biography of Hamilton, 1974, Kansas obviously got to him first -- buy it.





Another likeness of Washington, by Charles Wilson Peale in 1787, from David McCullough’s book 1776, Simon & Schuster, New York, 2005. The Washington Monument is perfect for this man. Not without faults, he overcame most of them through self-discipline and will-power. An abstract representation of him in stone fits him just as Lincoln’s emotional memorial fits him. There’s a great story about Washington’s arrival at the 1787 convention at Philadelphia (I can’t find the pas-sage right now). At a reception of some sort for the delegates, one of them, knowing full well the result of his suggestion, egged on another to go up to Washington, clap him on the back and say something like, “How you doing, George?” The fellow did it. Washington turned around like a slow-moving iceberg and stared at the guy. The room fell to a hush. The hail-fellow-well-met dupe crawfished and got out of there as quickly as he could. Speaking of memorials, the off-to-the-side, split-personality Jefferson Memorial strikes the right note for our third president. I'll explain. Jef-ferson authored the words "all men are created equal," yet he never freed his slaves. And the memorial itself reinforces the idea of a man with two minds, although I'm sure the builders did not think of this. On the inside of the memorial, around the top, are inscribed the words: "I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." That's a quote from a letter Jefferson sent to Dr. Benjamin Rush on Sept. 3, 1800, a couple of months before he won the dirtiest presidential campaign in our history, against incumbent John Adams (with due respect to the elder George Bush's Willie Horton ad in the 1988 campaign against Michael Dukakis, and the Dallas billionaire Lyle brothers' ad in 2000 accusing John McCain of voting against breast-cancer research -- McCain's sister died of it). W.’s statement to McCain after that: “It’s only politics, John.” Pro-Adams forces in 1800 accused Jefferson of being an atheist. I doubt that, but he probably came close. Deist characterized most of our Founders – a watch-maker God that created everything, then stepped back and let the works run itself. In other words, no personal God that could be persuaded by prayer to intervene in men's affairs. If such a deity existe,we would get rin whenwe need it, and it would stop short of flooding. Jefferson edited out all harsh lines in his copy of the New Testament, like Matthew 10:21, 10:34, 10:37; Mark 13: 12; and Luke 14:26. But when he said he swore “upon the altar of God,” he seemed not to recognize he used one superstition to condemn another. Is not reverence for “the altar of God” a belief without evidence? It is therefore a “tyranny over the mind of man."Both parties play dirty, but the middle class, the upper-middle class, and the rich being fewer in num-ber than the lower middle class and the poor, the GOP took dirty politics to a new level (plus, they usually need to nominate someone whose name is already well known, like that of a movie actor or a general).



The eldest of the Founders, Benjamin Franklin (1706-17-90), held more respect in Europe than any other American. He provided the steadying influence of great wisdom. Washington shown here is a detail of a larger painting that shows him astride his horse (the horse's ears are visible at lower right). Copies of each painting from Time's special edition The Making of America: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of a Nation, November 2005.


Thomas Jefferson, the spiritual father of our country. His presidency

is rated successful if only because of the Louisiana Purchase and the

Lewis and Clark Expedition through the new territory (the first and

odd extra-constitutional act by a champion of small government). Many scholars give Jefferson low grades as a manager of such a huge enterprise

as a nation. Forrest McDonald (search for his name) is not one of them. Check out this language from his The American Presidency: An Intellectual History, University of Kansas Press, 1994, p. 243:


He was an intensely private man, never comfortable in large groups. He

had a passionate aversion to (one might say almost a fear of) confronta

tion, argument, and disharmony. He was therefore polite, deferential, and conciliatory even in dealing with people he despised. His enemies regar

ded him as timid, irresolute, and spineless, and when he acted differently behind their backs from the way he did in their presence: devious, slippery, and hypocritical. However accurate their assessment, slipperiness, and hypocrisy -- if combined, as they were in Jefferson, with persuasiveness, charm, and a firm sense of purpose -- are priceless political assets . . . In sum, he ran the government masterfully and more thoroughly than his predecessors and

all but a handful of his successors, and he took bold foreign policy initiatives into the bargain.

However, Jefferson thought so little of the presidency, he did not mention it on his headstone, preferring instead: “Author of the Declaration of Independence, of the Virginia Statue of Religious Freedom, and Father of the University of Virginia” (1819). Of all the eloquent things he wrote, two stand out: “All men are created equal,” a phrase from the Declaration of Independence that Lincoln reached back to, bypassing the emotionless Constitution, to change the northern rationale for winning the Civil War from one emphasizing the preservation of the Union (still important) to one of abolishing slavery. The second in a Jan. 1, 1802, letter to the Danbury Baptists of Connecticut, saying the First Amendment erected “a wall of separation between church and state,” which became the only original contribution of this country to world political thought. Unfortunately, many clever, not brilliant, Americans in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, including the late Chief Justice of the United States William Rehnquist, disputed Jefferson’s “wall,” apparently preferring creation of a majoritarian Christian government to one neutral regarding religion. The weapon of choice for anti-wall enthusiasts in recent years is the “voucher,” which Republicans hope will appeal to minorities. But minorities will learn that vouchers alone will not gain entrance for their kids to private schools, because those schools will raise their tuition beyond the vouchers’ value, for the specific purpose of keeping most of those kids out. Copy of the White House painting of Jefferson by Rembrandt Peale (1778-1860) early in 1800, from Fawn M. Brodie’s Thomas Jefferson:

An Intimate History, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, 1974.


I pause here to pursue an important tangent. Jefferson believed in democ-racy, the ability of the common man to govern himself. No common man himself, certainly, Jefferson meant “informed, educated” common men. True. But this hedge reminds me of a teenage boy who asked me in October 2005 who Hitler was. A question like that can cause a person to despair. The previously most important thinker on the subject of democracy, Athenian philosopher Socrates, 469-399 B.C.E., did not believe in democracy, which he viewed as rule by the rabble. Socrates preferred the totalitarian government of Sparta, rule by “those who know.” Little wonder the early fathers of the monarchical Roman Catholic Church admired men like Socrates above all other preChristians.


We all know the best government is one by a wise and benevolent dictator. The hitch, of course, is that we can’t be certain that dictator will be succeeded by another wise and benevolent dictator. But we do know the successor will inherit all the power of the good guy. Democracy is messy, often stumbling, the worst form of government, as Churchill said, “except for all the rest.” But the common people eventually get it right. The same is true of the jury system.


At great cost in human life, we decided as a people in our Civil War that “popular government” is the way to go. And many others try to follow our example (Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen), difficult as that path is (actually, it is hopeless in all cultures lacking a middle class). A few years ago, a scholar from somewhere in Asia (I forget exactly where) visited us and said he came to read the writings of our president. “Bush?” “No,” he replied. “Jefferson.” Which brings me to the two debts we all owe to I.F. Stone (full name: Isador Feinstein Stone; he probably dropped the first two names, preferring initials because of anti-Jewish bias in this country). Stone for 19 years produced I.F. Stone’s Weekly from Washington DC, in which he dug up scoops on

the rest of the media by the simple tactic of reading official documents, par-ticularly those from the Pentagon, that everyone else thought too boring. After being diagnosed with angina pectoris in 1971 at age 62, Stone decided to tackle a question that gnawed at him for years, the difference in views of freedom by Jefferson and Socrates. Nearly legally blind, he nevertheless taught himself ancient Greek so he could examine the oldest documents on Socrates’ trial in 399 B.C.E. that led to Socrates’ death sentence (he swallowed hemlock) on charges of corrupting the youth of Athens and failure to worship the gods of Athens.


Stone sought to see the trial of Socrates from the prosecution’s point of view, a new idea because all earlier examiners of it, beginning with Socrates’ pupil Plato, made a hero of Socrates. Stone determined that, from the perspective of the Athenian people, Socrates did corrupt the youth of Athens, because he not only opposed democracy, he made fun of it. As I learned in the late 1950s from professor Ralph Lynn at Baylor, the fartherest back we can look in history and find people like our selves is to ancient Athens. Those guys started democracy, albeit a flawed democracy (I’ll get around to that later). Athens is the birthplace of Western Civilization.


Stone did more. He identified for us the first common man in literature who challenged aristocratic authority. The first of anything usually is thought to be brilliant and beautiful or ugly and nasty. A man named Thersites (thur-SIGH-tease) emerges from the mists of the past suddenly in Homer’s The Iliad, the oldest story in Western Civilization, telling of the Greeks’ conquest of Troy in about 1,250 B.C.E. Everything in the West before Troy is darkness, and after Troy the clouds closed in again for half a millennium. But it is fun to note we have the desiccated body of Rameses II, who lived a couple of centuries be-fore Troy, and that Pharaoh Khufu (Cheops in Greek) built the Great Pyramid in Egypt more than a thousand years before Rameses II. And Khufu’s pyramid isn’t the oldest in Egypt.


Homer, probably blinded by those who wanted to preserve his wonderful storytelling gift by not allowing him to get interested in anything else, dates to around 700 B.C.E., or a bit earlier. The story of Troy and its conquest Homer says is 500 years older, from about the mid-1200s B.C.E. Homer is credited with The Iliad and to a lesser extent The Odyssey, but he probably is only the guy who put the older stories together the best. Since he couldn’t see, someone else obviously wrote down what he recited.


If you never heard of Thersites before, it’s because Homer described him as the vilest of men, the ugliest of all the men who marched on Troy. He is “bandy-legged” and lame in one foot; his shoulders rounded and stooped forward over his chest; his pointy-head held almost no hair, only a scant stubble grew on his head (pp. 33-34, The Trial of Socrates, I.F. Stone, Little Brown and Company, Boston, paperback edition, 1988).


The first thing we do with people we don’t like is demonize them. Homer knew his audience wanted to glorify the Trojan War, the earliest success for Greek civilization. Athens might be democratic, but Sparta and the other city-states in Greece were not. Speakers for millennia pick up on lines their audiences applaud (Ronald Reagan did this in his career of speaking to Rotary, Lions’ and Kiwanis clubs after his acting career deteriorated to Bonzo movies and then to Twenty-Mule Team TV commercials and finally to no roles at all). His first wife, Jane Wyman, divorced him, I’m convinced, because she possessed talent and knew he did not.


Thersites takes it upon himself to speak for the common soldier against King Agamemnon to his face, “Son of Atreus, what are you dissatisfied with now? Your huts are full of bronze and plenty of women, the choice spoils we Achaeans give you whenever we take a town. Are you greedy for the gold that the horse-taming Trojans may yet bring you as ransom for a son, whom I or some other Achaean may have taken captive? Or some young girl to sleep with, that you will keep apart for yourself?” (p. 34, Stone). Thersites calls the king the “greediest of all men,” “clothed in shamelessness,” a drunkard “heavy with wine,” and a coward who possesses “the [fierce] eyes of a dog but the [timid] heart of a deer.”


The aristocratic paladins like Achilles detested Thersites. Not only that, Odysseus beat the hell out of him with his fists. So much for the notion of free speech.

Here’s a lesson I learned many years ago. If you produce a good phrase as you write, don’t fear to reuse it, infrequently. In the many translations of Homer’s two great works I possess, I found the phrase “the wine-dark sea” more than twice. Homer showed you can reuse a good phrase, but not overuse it. It’s similar to great classicalmusic composers. The genius that produced more melodies than any other, Russia’s Piotr (our Peter) Ilyich Tchaikovsky (chigh-KOF-ski), is so prolific, you want to say, “Slow down a little,” but he occasionally did reuse one. He comes back to the exquisitely pure, five-note refrain early in his Fifth Symphony. Puccini (Giacoco) and Wagner (Wilhelm Richard, of all people) are the only ones that come within a mile of Tchaikovsky on production of melodies. Brahms is a distant fourth. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Verdi display other unique talents (although Bee-thoven did write the best symphony of any of them, his Ninth). When others happen onto a great melody, most of them go back to it, and go back to it and go back to it.





Artist’s idealized head of Homer, from Sans Souci Palace, Potsdam, p. 834 of the massive (1,701 pages) Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiques, edited by Harry Thurston Peck, Cooper Square Publishing, Inc., New York, 1963.





Blind Homer,” from Modena Hotel, Berlin, p. 191, Homer, Gabriel

Germain, translated by Richard Howard, the Grove Press, Inc., New York, 1960.




Possibly the gold death mask of King Agamemnon, but there is more doubt about that now, re-covered from one of the grave shafts at Mycenae (Crete). According to The Iliad, King Priam of Troy kidnapped Helen (“whose face launched a thousand ships,” and she became known as Helen of Troy), the wife of Menelaus, the king of Sparta. King Agamemnon of Mycenae and his Greek confederates ostensibly made war on Troy to rescue Helen. Most historians think the war concerned trade routes and commerce, but that isn’t as sexy as fighting over a woman.




Dustjacket art for The Iliad, translated by Robert Fagles Penguin Group, Viking Press, New York, 1990. The soldier’s spear is missing.




Undated, idealized image of Odysseus, Bettman Archive, History Club brochure, March 1997. Interestingly, Odys-seus is shown here with a dog. In Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1958 (first published in 1938), he wrote 33,333 lines of epic poetry, (17-syllable verses). Kazankasis, who also wrote Zorba the Greek, The Last Temptation of Christ, and other popular works, considered Odyssey his most important book. In Kazantzakis’ sequel to Odyssey, when Odysseus returns to Attica after 20 years (10 in the Trojan War, 10 on his voyages and adventures in the Mediterranean en route home), his 20-year-old dog recognizes him, and Odysseus feels compelled to strangle the dog so it won’t alert the suitors (about his presence) who are there for the hand of Odysseus’ wife Penelope.



Patroclus, Achilles’ best friend, forgets Achilles’ orders and tries three times to climb the wall of Troy. Three times the god Apollo throws him down, the last time with such force it knocks off Patroclus’ helmet and his shield away, and shatters his spear. A Trojan boy stabs Patroclus in the back, bringing him to his knees. Hector, Troy’s champion soldier, drives his spear into Patroclus and shouts his victory cry. “Don’t boast of my death,” Patroclus tells Hector with his dying breath. “It took three of you; first a god, then a boy, and last of all you, Hector.” Hector prepares to dismember Patroclus’ body, but Menelaus and Ajax of the Greeks arrive and fight Hector for the body, finally winning it. Achilles goes into a rage. Hector refuses to come out and battle Achilles, who then kills lots of Trojans, including Hector’s brother. Hector comes out to fight. The chief Greek god, Zeus, with-draws his ban on gods taking sides (so Apollo acted on his own ear-

lier in throwing down Patroclus). Achilles kills Hector after the god-dess Athena returns Achilles’ misfired spear. Achilles drags Hector’s body behind his chariot around Troy, breaking the hearts of Hector’s parents, who watch from the battlements.




After 10 years of fighting and siege, the Greeks apparently departed from Troy, but left in their camp (not at the gates of Troy) a giant wooden horse. The Trojans, a horse-loving people, did not know what to make of the horse, finally deciding to drag it into their city. The horse is hollow and contains Greek soldiers, who the next morning at dawn, while Trojans sleep off their drunken celebration, exit the horse, open the gates, and the Greeks sack the city. This, of course, gave rise to a saying we still use today, “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” Menelaus at first wants to kill Helen with the rest of them, but his heart melts when he sees her, and he carries her home. The wooden horse story prob-ably is as fictional as Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden and Jason and the Argonauts. This and the drawing of Patroclus above are from The Ancient Greece of Odysseus, Peter Connolly, Oxford University Press.



Another likeness of Jefferson, when he served as secretary of state under Washington, 1789-1793, by Charles Willson Peale (1741-1827) from Vol. 3 of Dumas Malone’s six-vol-ume biography of Jefferson, Jefferson and the Ordeal of Liberty, Little Brown and Company, 1962.




Another likeness of Jefferson, by Jefferson-contemporary sculptor Jean Antoine Houdon. There are many likenesses of Jefferson that look slightly different, moreso than for most other Founders (Franklin is an exception), so he must have been a hard subject to capture by artists. This one and the two above make him look better than many others. Photography did not reach this country until 1839, with the daguerreotype technol-ogy. All the Founders missed that era, Madison coming closest by dying in 1836. The same is true for all the Texas founders except Sam Houston, who lived until 1863. Stephen F. Austin, Davy Crockett (perhaps not a founder, in as much as he spent only a few weeks in Texas before he died), Jim Bowie, and William Barrett Travis all died in 1836, the last three in the Alamo.



James Madison, (1751-1836), Father of the U.S. Constitution. A small man (5-foot-2), Madison more than any other member of the 1787 Constitutional Convention (a “convention” recognized by that name only later; before that it amounted to the most recent session of the Continental Congress) studied ancient governments like those in Greece and Rome. His compromise with small-population states in June 1787 plagues us to this day through the Electoral College, which prevents us from coming close to a pure democracy. On the other hand, there would have been no United States without that compro-mise. (See Constitution, 1787.) Copy of painting from the dustjacket of The Founding Fathers, JAMES MADISON: A Biography in His Own Words, edited by Merrill D. Peterson, published by NEWSWEEK, New York, distributed by HARPER & ROW, PUBLISHERS, INC., 1974.





James Madison (1751-1836) as a young man, 32, when he asked Charles Willson Peale in 1783 to paint miniatures of himself and his love at the time, Kitty Floyd. He looks so boyishly innocent here one wants to pet him.




Alexander Hamilton (175?-1804, slain in a duel with Aaron Burr). From the cover art of Forrest McDonald’s paperback edition of Alexander Hamilton: A Biography, W.W. Norton & Company, New York, 1982.




Alexander Hamilton, painted while still in uni-form by Charles William Peale. Hamilton, an artillerist early in the Revolutionary War, later served on Washington’s staff and later still as Secretary of the Treasury. From Richard B. Mor-ris’ Seven Who Shaped Our Destiny: The Founding Fathers As Revolutionaries, Harper & Row, New York, 1976. This likeness probably resembles its subject more than the drawing on McDonald’s book. Illegitimate from parents on Nevis, of the Leeward Islands in the Caribbean, Hamilton in the long run won his battle with Thomas Jefferson on what kind of country we would become (see second paragraph of 1776, July 2).



1789, July 14, the French Revolution begins with the storming of the Bastille prison. On the world stage, this revolution is much more important than the American Revolu-tion because it occurs on a continent with a history of more than 2,000 years and with a population of 30 million instead of three million. Also, unlike the American Revolu-tion, this one is from the bottom up (most of the leaders of the American Revolution already ran the colonies).





John Marshall, Chief Justice of the United States 1801-1835. The eldest of 15 children, he joined a regiment of militiamen at age 20 in 1775 and served as a lieutenant under George Washington, and served as secretary of state under John Adams, 1800-1801, served as one of three commissioners to France during the XYZ Affair (search for XYZ), then won appointment as Chief Justice from Adams in 18-01. He participated in more than 1,000 decisions, writing 519 himself, the most famous of which Marbury v. Madison in 1803, which established the doctrine that the Supreme Court would decide what law or act is and what is not constitutional (one of the omissions of the Constitution is that it did not specify who or what would decide that; it seemed so logical that the high court would perform that role that no one of stature objected). But Marshall wrote at least three other decisions that must the characterized as power grabbing, because the Constitution did not talk about those subjects, either (search for 1816, 1819 and 1824 above). This undated etching, on page 136 of Vol. 2, of the 12-volume Time-Life History of the United States, is credited to “Brown Brothers.” If you can find a copy of this Time-Life series in beige-bound volumes, you ought to get it. Not all Time-Life books are good. This set is. Here is the cutline beneath this etching: Chief Justice John Marshall took to drink now and then. But according to one story, he became so worried about drunken judges that he and members of his court shunned drink except in rainy weather. After the Louisiana Purchase, it was dry in Washington but they ruled that it must be raining somewhere.” That reminds me of the caution that one shouldn’t drink until 5 o’clock, but some fellas always noted, “It must be 5 o’clock somewhere.”



I found this copy of a painting of John Marshall in The Wilson Quarterly, Spring 1987, published by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, Smithsonian Institution Building, Washington DC 20560. You know the Liberty Bell is cracked, but do you know why? Because they rang it so much during the mourning for John Marshall’s death in 1835. He missed the earliest photographs in this country, Daguerreotypes in 1839, by four years.

I found this copy of a painting of John Marshall in the special commemorative edition of Life magazine in the Fall of 1991, the 200th anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights. It’s almost a reverse image of the painting above it, except here Marshall is looking directly at you (and the copy is in color). This same edition of Life unforgivably headlined its section on the Second Amendment this way: “ . . . of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.” It omitted the first 10 words (including an wordthat should have been hyphenated) of that amendment: “A well-regulated militia, being necessary for the security of a free State . . . ” Without the introductory words, which oppo-nents of the National Rifle Association consider a conditional phrase, the mean-ing of the Second Amendment is completely changed. But the U.S. Su-preme Courtin a 2008, 5-4 decision (with two new justices appointed by George W. Bush – Chief Justice John Roberts and Samuel Aleto voting in the majority, gave the National Rifle Association precisely what it wanted for generations. Without citing the introductory phrase of the amendment (“A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed”). The court held,in effect, that the conditional phrase, “A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state” is meaningless, as ifthe Founders wrote ANYTHING else in the Constitution that is meaningless. The closest the high court previously ruled on the question of private ownership of weapons occurred in 1939, when the court banned private possession of a machine gun. Thankfully, actor Charleton Heston (a liberal in the 1960s, but a gun nut years later) died before that 2008 decision.




1797, the year Peter Eldridge, the great-grandfather of this writer, is born. Photo, which my mother gve me years ago, may date as late as 1870. Eldrid-ge died in 1883. Also in 1797, American Jethro Wood got a patent on his cast-iron plow, which farmers refused to use out of fear it will contaminate the soil (Almanac, p. 169). Wood’s invention precedes the inventionin England of a casr-iron plow by six yearsAlso in 1797, Jan. 1, New York moves its capital from New York City to Albany. On Oct. 18, 1797, three agents for French foreign minister Talleyrand (considered by many historians as a great dip-lomat) approach America’s Peace Commission in Paris to “suggest” America make a “large loan” to France and a $240,000 bribe to Talleyrand (you didn’t read this about Talleyrand in school) as a precondition to negotiating a trade treaty with France. This becomes known as the XYZ Affair (referring to the three French agents), and prompted a member of the U.S. commission, Charles C. Pinkney, to declare, “Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute,” Almanac, p. 170. Later Chief Justice John Marshall also served on the commission. Pinkney’s idea will not become American policy until after the election of Thomas Jefferson in 1800. George Washington dies two years later, in 1799, after doctors put leeches on him to drain his blood. (Two centuries later, physicians learn the use of leeches can be therapeutic.) After Washington’s death, Gen. Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee, the father of Robert E. Lee, declares before Congress on Dec. 26, 1799, that Washington is “first in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.” Almanac, p. 172. Lee died March 25, 1818. Eldridge aged 39 when the Alamo fell on March 6, 1936.


On April 30, 1803, President Thomas Jefferson made the Louisiana Purchase from Napoleon, more than doubling the size of the United States, for $11.25 million, plus the cancellation of American claims against the French in the amount of $3.75 million, for a total of $15 million. Jefferson lacked the authority to make the deal but feared Napoleon might change his mind. France ceded the land to Spain in 1762, but the Spanish planned to give it back to France. Napoleon said he did it to cause trouble for Brittain, with which he warred. Jefferson made the deal without waiting for a constitutional amendment to authorize the purchase. Jefferson feared France or Spain might deny the United States trade access to New Orleans. When Jefferson submitted the deal to the U.S. Senate, it overwhelmingly approved. France claimed the land originally after the sailing down of the Mississippi River by explorer Robert sieru de LaSalle (1643-1687), who claimed for France the entire Mississippi valley. La Salle also landed on the coast of Texas in 1682. Napoleon said, "This accession of territory affirms forever the power of the United States, and I have given England a maritime rival who sooner or later will humble her pride." That proved true.


1799 Nov. 28, Wyatt T. Heard is born as the first son and first child of the

second Thomas Heard (the date of his death and name of his wife are unknown). Wyatt is born in Greene County GA and he marries Mary M. (surname unknown), who is born in Wilkes County GA on Sept. 15, 1801. Wyatt’s fourth son and eighth child is Lawrence Pike Heard, listed below. A half-year later, on May 9, 1800, violent abolitionist John Brown is born in Torrington CT. Brown will “consecrate my life” to the destruction of slavery at a memorial service for abolitionist editor Elijah Lovejoy of Alton IL, whose printing presses got destroyed by pro-slavery goons three times be-

fore murdering Lovejoy on the night of Nov. 7, 1837.


As a boy John Brown drove a herd of cattle 100 miles though forests from Ohio to Michigan, where his host treated him well but beat the host’s slave boy with an iron shovel. The memory left a permanent mark on Brown, who failed at everything he tried until he obsessively sought martyrdom and achieved it at his trial and hanging after he and 21 followers captured the Federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, (now West Virginia) on Oct. 16, 1859. Leading a contingent of U.S. Marines, Lt. Col. Robert E. Lee stormed the arsenal and captured Brown on Oct. 18, 1859.


The South cheered. The North rang church bells in sadness. And less than a year and a half later, one of the few wars that absolutely needed to be fought, because no other solution to slavery would have been acceptable to the South and its “peculiar institution,” erupted at Fort Sumter SC. This inevitable war (as Winston Churchill later called it) grew out of the failure of the nation’s Founders to resolve the issue of slavery and at the same time get a new nation started when no colony in the history of the world successfully rebelled against the mother country.


John Brown helped ignite the war, but the war would have started whether John Brown lived or died. As he said himself, the nation would not be purged of its sin of slavery “but by blood.” Lincoln fought the war to preserve the Union, but two years into it, he saw an opportunity to change it to a war over slavery and a “new birth of freedom,” and he did it with his Emanicipation Proclamation freeing slaves in those states still in rebellion against the Un-ion. Soon a popular tune struck up all across the North:


John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering

in the grave, but he keeps marching on.


But the music would be hijacked for The Battle Hymn of the Republic.


Not all Yankees applauded the Emancipation Proclamation, especially some from Southern Ohio. It changed the purpose of the war from solely maintaining the Un-ion to one that also would end slavery.

Most of the following family history (not the first items on the Cummingses) are from my father’s genealogical efforts in 1957, my mother’s (Minerva Tennessee Gulley Heard’s) Birthday Address Book, and Nell GriffinGraham’s compilation, by date, with my additions and comments.


1806, birth year of Benito Pablo Juárez, a full-bloodied Zapotec Indian who will rule Mexico as president, 1861-1872. As a legislator, his 1856 land-reform law broke up large estates and forced the Roman Catholic Church to sell its lands. Under Juárez, Catholic priests are forbidden to wear their reverse collars in public and nuns are not permitted to wear their habits in public. By the end of the 20th century, most of Juárez’ reforms are forgotten, and a visit by Pope John Paul II results in the approval of the first step toward sainthood for the Mexican “boy” Juan Diego (hardly a “boy,” Diego, aged 57 years (born in 1776) at a time when most men died before age 50), who, on Dec. 9, 1531, said he saw a vision of a dark “Virgin” later called the Virgin of Guadalupe, on Tepeyac Hill (earlier site of an Aztec idol; this writer visited the Catholic church on Tepeyac Hill in 1980). To prove that the virgin appeared to him and talked to him, Diego showed a cape with the virgin’s image to the infamous Bishop Juan de Zumarrage, who destroyed more than 20,000 Aztec idols and all Aztec religious documents (to the horror of anthropologists of later centuries) in order to replace those “pagan” manifestations with Catholic idols. Zumarrage instantly saw that Diego’s cape could fill the need for a new idol for Mexicans to worship. Juárez dies in 1872. The church built its Cathedral of Mexico beside the central plaza (the Zocolo) in Mexico City a mere 50 years after the church destroyed the Aztec Temple. But the destruction proved so thorough that no one could remember where the temple stood. More than four centuries later, in 1978, ditch diggers for a new gas pipeline accidentally stumbled upon the site of the temple. The Cathedral of Mexico missed the correct site by two city blocks. This time the dog missed the spot.

1810, the third census in the United States shows a population of 7,239,881, a gain

of 36.4 percent over 1800. On Sept. 26, 1810, American settlers living in the western portion of Spanish West Florida, rise up in rebellion against their Spanish rulers, seizing the fort at Baton Rouge and declaring the region between New Orleans (founded by Louisiana governor Jean Baptiste le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville, in 1718 -- a year after San Antonio is founded in what will become Texas -- as part of French expansion along the Mississippi River) and the Pearl River to be the Republic of West Florida and seeking annexation by the United States. Twenty-six days later, President James Madison announces the annexation, the Louisiana Purchase will be made by Thomas Jefferson for $15 million ($11,250,000 for the land, $3,750,000 for debts owed by France to citizens of the United States) became part of the Louisiana Purchase and the land seized becomes the state of Louisiana in 1812.

1811, Dec. 15, the greatest earthquake in United States history occurred sixty-five miles

southwest of New Madrid, Missouri, begining along the Saint Francis River in Ar-kansas. Called the New Madrid Earthquake, it and aftershocks would have registered magnitudes of 8.0 or higher on the Richter Scale, scientists think. People all over the country, with the exception of the Pacific Coast, felt them. Large areas sank into the earth, new lakes formed, the course of the Mississippi River changed, and forests over an area of 150,000 acres disappeared, as did many houses, but few died because of sparse populations in the area in 1811.

1812, James Madison is reelected president with 128 electoral votes to 89 for De

Witt Clinton, and Eldridge Gerry of Massachusetts (of Gerrymandering fame) is elected vice president over Federalist Jared Ingersoll by 131 to 86 votes. Alma-nac, p. 195.

1812, the speculated birth year of Patrick Cummings, the speculated name of the

father of Lawrence Cummings, the first Cummings we have records on, born almost certainly in Ireland, the great-great-great-grandfather of this writer. The fol-lowing information about the early Cummingses, from before Lawrence, is pro-vided by Gary Cummings, 53, of Waynesboro VA via emails in February 2000. Patrick (1812?) begat Lawrence (1832), who begat John Albert (1850), who begat Mary Elizabeth (1877), who begat Dow Hubbard Heard (1896), who

begat me, Robert Heard (1930)., the fourth of four sons (no daughters).


Gary also descends from Patrick and Lawrence, but his line diverges at that point and runs from one of John Albert’s younger brothers, the second Patrick, who begat Marshall (b. in Leakey TX Aug. 6, 1907, married Nattie Brice and re-membered soubered (Marshall did) Reagan Wells TX; Marshall dies July 1, 1971). Marshall begat Gary (1946). So Gary, who remembers swimming at Blue Hole, half a mile northeast of the old Heard School/Church, and I do not have a common ancestor until we get back to Lawrence. I call John Albert the eldest of Lawrence’s children because Lawrence aged only 18 when John Albert got born in 1850 (perhaps Lawrence only aged 16 if an 1834 date of birth in one record is correct; earlier marriages occurred in earlier times -- Shakespeare aged 18 when he married Anne Hathaway, eight years his senior, in 1582, when Anne already counted three months pregnant). I speculate Lawrence’s father, the first Patrick, got born around 1812 if we assume he would have been 20 when Lawrence ap-peared.


Also in 1812, on June 1, President James Madison, angry at England for bloc-kading American ports and impressing American seamen to serve on British warships as part of England’s fight against Napoleon, asks Congress to declare war against England. Fifteen days later, unaware of Madison’s action, British Prime Minister Lord Castlereagh, reacting to economic conditions worsened by Ameri-ca’s blocking trade during England’s fight with France, on June 16 lifts the bloc-kade and ceases the impressment of seamen, effective June 23. Two days after June 16, both sides still unaware of the actions of the other, the U.S. Senate votes 1913 in favor of war (the House voted for war 79-49 on June 4). Madison proclaims a state of war on June 19. Regarding the early history of the Cummingses, Gary says:


. . . the Cummings or Cummns lived in Ireland since 1310 or so, when the Irish Cummin(g)s got driven out of Scotland by the followers of Robert the Bruce, who in 1306 killed John the Red Comyns, related to one of our ancestors, in front of the altar of the Catholic Church at Dumfries. John the Red rivaled Bruce for the Scottish throne. For over 100 years, the Comyns (Cummin[g]s) ruled in Scotland until 1310. The Comyns built many castles in Scotland, the most famous being Lochindorb in Northern Scotland. Robert the Bruce destroyed all their castles. Before this, the Comyns descended from Robert de Comines, who came to England from France with the Norman invasion of 1066. A friend and ally of William the Conqueror, who made him Earl of Northumberland for Comines’ services in 1066. This lasted awhile until the people he ruled overthrew him, and killed Robert de Comines. His descendants fled to the Scottish Highlands, where they became the ruling power until 1310. Before their time in England, Scotland and France, the de Comines went back to Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire. They are descendants of Charlemagne.


Later, Gary further claimed -- skipping a few centuries here and there -- connection with earlier Frankish Kings, then to Priam, King of Troy (remem- ber Helen?), then to a Cimmerian king in Western Turkey, then to Judah and Tamar of Genesis, to Abraham, to Shem, to Noah, to Adam. At that point I suggested to Gary he should step away from the bar. Even if a fraction of that tale proves true, everybody supposedly traces back to Adam and Eve, a fan-ciful fiction created by Hebrew writers to fill the need for a first man (those writers also took other yarns, such as Noah’s Flood, from ancient Sumer du-ring their Baby-lonian captivity in the sixth century before the common era).


My guess is that genealogists in England and elsewhere in the 19th century and the early 20th century learned they could do more business if they “dis-covered” for visiting Americans hungry for family history a link with royalty in some manner. Thus we find claims of an earl/earle both in the Heard and Cummings’ lines, each stemming from 1066. Or, maybe there is truth to it, which I would regret, because I identify with my ancestors who fought in the American Revolution (especially with Captain Thomas Heard) against the divine right of kings and against inherited tit-les. What those soldiers and our Founding Fathers created dwarfs anything achieved by all the kings and roy-alty that ever lived. I’ll bet any connection between the Cummingses and Charlemagne involved soldiers or serfs of Charlemagne and not Charlemagne himself. Same thing with Heardred, remember? On the other hand, Charlemagne kept busy with four wives and six concubines. That increases the chance everyone can claim decent from him, if anyone wanted to, which would shock our forebears who fought the British in the American Revolution, where they rejected the idea of aristocracy.

1831, May 10, this writer’s great-grandfather Harvey Gulley, the eighth son and

12th child of John Gulley and Nancy Bizzell, got born in Monroe County, Ala-bama. Harvey’s family moved the next year to Dallas County, Alabama, then moved to Conecuh County, Alabama, and in the mid-1840s moved to Arkansas.

1832, the birth year of Lawrence C. Cummings (b. 1832 or 1834, in Tipperary, Ire-

land), father of John Albert Cummings, the “Strongman of the (Dry Frio) Can-yon” (see 1850). Gary Cummings emailed messages regarding Lawrence to Sue Heard Helveston, of Willow Grove PA, a genealogist of the Heard family (and others). I call John Albert the eldest of Lawrence’s children because Lawrence aged only 18 (perhaps only 16) when John Albert appeared June 23, 1850 (d. Aug. 7, 1920, in the Dry Frio Canyon), in Albany NY (one record says Louisiana). Gary says he visited the Catholic church of Lawrence’s christening in Tipperary, Ireland (south-central). Lawrence married Mary Elizabeth Cummings (b. Dec. 26, 1830, almost a century before this writer appeared in Big Spring TX; d. Jan. 22, 1922) and brought their family to this country in 1848 or 1849 after the Great Potato Famine of 1847.


John Albert Cummings later named his eldest child after his mother, Mary Elizabeth Jameson Cummings of Belfast, whom Lawrence married in New York City, and perhaps after his eldest sister, Mary ElizabethDottie” (b. April 2, 1868; d. July 21, 1945 -- see below – I think I drove my grandmother, Lizzie, in her 1942 Pontiac to visit Dottie).


The third Mary Elizabeth (Cummings, my grandmother) married Wyatt Hubbard Heard and bore 10 children. Lawrence’s other children included Lawrence Jr. (apparently died in infancy), Joseph Frank (b. 1857; d. circa 1872), Henry Patrick (b. May 30, 1858; d. Feb. 29, 1912), Robert Henry “Sarge” Cummings (b. a month before the Civil War, on March 12, 1861; d. Feb. 12, 1923), Mary ElizabethDottie” (b. April 2, 1868; d. July 21, 1945), Thomas Baxter (b. March 15, 1869; d. July 30, 1928), and M. Ann (b. May 28, 1872).


Gary thinks Lawrence Cummings’ first wife may have done away with (poisoned?) him, perhaps because he married another woman while still married to Mary Elizabeth. By his second wife, Margaret Kearsey, Lawrence fathered John W. Cummings (b. March 1880) and Margaret L. (b. September 1884).


Sarge” unquestionably is the black sheep of the family. My first-cousin George Nelson and this writer are the black sheep today; George recalls the story our Uncle Sid Heard (b. Jan. 7, 1904; d. Aug. 31, 1996) told about Sarge having to leave Refugio (ree-FURY-oh) County “because of his beliefs.” A freethinker? No. “He believed all the cattle in the county (Patricio) belonged to him.” Of the many other tales about Sarge are ones involving his escaping, after selling stolen horses or mules in Mexico, from a Uvalde-stationed Texas Ranger by leading his horse (Hub’s Conella, probably a later corruption of the Spanish conela: cinnamon tree or cinnamon colored: in this case, reddish-brown horse) over a narrow, banisterless railroad trestle (high over the Pecos River) that the Ranger, Nat B. “Kiowa” Jones, wouldn’t risk. The Ranger’s nickname may indicate Indian heritage. Sarge saluted Jones after he reached the other side, and Jones returned the salute.


Sarge got acid thrown into his face through a window by the mother of a woman he pursued. He or a gang member may have murdered a redhaired Ranger named James Woods, who tried to infiltrate Sarge’s gang -- after whom Red Hollow in the upper Dry Frio Canyon on the east side probably is named. Sarge pulled a gun to force an Army officer to open Frank Cummings’ coffin after its shipment back to Reagan Wells from New York City in early 1919 (indeed, Frank lay in the coffin, with a beard half an inch long, either because the beard hair continued to grow after his death or, more likely, because the skin shrank, or maybe both. Sarge ran naked and howling at the moon late in life (20th century). He is buried at the cemetery at Vanderpool.


Patsy Lee Cummings McKelvy of Brackettville TX informed me on Feb. 26, 2000, that Lawrence Cummings served in the Confederate Army (my cousin Nell Griffin-Graham also researched Lawrence Pike “Cap” Heard’s military service, learning he may have signed up at different places as many as three times, no doubt to secure the bonus for signing; he wouldn’t have been the only Rebel to do that). Patsy is descended from John Albert’s brother, Henry Patrick, and her father’s name (popular among the Irish): Patsy (b. April 14, 1905; d. Oct. 15, 1975).


Gary is descended from the next sibling after Patsy, Marshall, so he and Patsy Lee are first cousins. As with Gary Cummings, she and I do not have a common ancestor until we go back to Lawrence Cummings (b. 1832).


Also in 1832, Chief Justice John Marshall and the Supreme Court ruled un-constitutional a Georgia law that sought to supersede the power of Indian tribes to make treaties. President Andrew Jackson, longtime Indian hater, said: “John Marshall has made his decision. Now let him enforce it.” Cherokee Indians lost their lands in northeast Georgia, southeast Tennessee and western North Carolina, and marched to Oklahoma under duress as part of what came to be called “The Trail of Tears.”


The Black Hawk War took place in 1832, with Abraham Lincoln serving with settlers opposing Indians returning to Illinois from west of the Mississippi because the Indians thought they did not get dealt with fairly, which universally is the case when a superior (or at least more powerful) culture encounters an inferior one. Fellow volunteers from New Salem elected Lincoln captain at age 23. They never engaged the Indians. At one point Lincoln drilled his troops in a march that approached a fence. Quick-thinking Abe halted the troops and commanded that they reform their formation on the other side of the fence.


On July 13 of 1832, an expedition under Henry Schoolcraft finds the source of the Mississippi River in Montana at Lake Itasca. Indian tribes ceding ancestral lands east of the Mississippi to the United States in this year include the Black Hawk, Sauk and Fox, and Chickasaws. Another term for ceding is yielding to coercion. Another, from the Indians’ point of view, is stealing. This reminds me of a quote by Abe Lemons (himself one-eighth Indian) when he served as men’s basketball coach at the University of Texas (I wrote a book on his quotes in 1978: You scored one more point than dead man: The Sardonic Humor of Abe Lemons; we sold out the first edition of 3,500 hardback copies many years ago, and it still is in demand). Abe said this of the American West, “Out here you must obey the white man’s law: never steal nothing smaller than a state.”


Also in 1832, President Andrew Jackson vetoes a recharter of the Bank of the United States, which he considered evidence of Eastern control of the nation, and Jackson used the issue to get reelected in this year. Democrats in the 19th century generally opposed governmental banks. Whigs, and then Republicans, generally favored them.


Lincoln, as a member of the Illinois Legislature, favored banks and any frontier improvements, like roads and canals. Abe tried to break a quorum in 1840, when the Legislature considered banning the establishing a bank. He and a buddy went to the chamber, then meeting on the second floor of the Springfield Second Presby-terian Church. They called for a vote to determine if a quorum existed. The sergeant at arms locked the doors behind them. With Abe and his friend, the body held a quorum. When Lincoln and his buddy saw that the doors got locked, they attempted to escape by going through a second-story window.

A Democratic newspaper in Springfield seemed to make fun of Abe by noting one of the escapers seemed almost to touch the ground as he hung from the window sill. This writer read about that incident in a book on Lincoln several years after I write “The Miracle of the Killer Bees: 12 Senators Who Changed Texas Politics” in 1979, two years after those state senators broke the Texas Senate quorum. I wish I knew about that Lincoln story when I wrote that book.

Lawrence Pike Heard, b. 1835, in photo taken when he aged about 45 (1880). My dad gave a copy of this picture to my brothers and me (and probably others) nearly half a century ago. Lawrence is my great-grandfather Heard.I think the hands are fake – the same for every man who sat for the photographer.


1835, Oct. 29, Lawrence Pike Heard is born in Cass County GA 36 days

before Ben Milam leads a force that attacks San Antonio on Dec. 4 and wins the surrender of the Alamo five days later from Gen. Martin Perfecto de Cos, brother-in-law of Mexican dictator Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, who recaptures the Alamo the following March 6, killing all defenders. Milam dies on Dec. 7 in the Dec. 4-8 fight, the only Anglo-American fatality. In 1835, the Whig Party in Massachusetts nominates Daniel Webster for president, a group of citizens in Canaan, New Hampshire, burn down the Noyes Academy after it enrolls 14 black students, and a mob in Boston parade lead William Lloyd Garrison through the streets with a rope around his neck to protest his abolitionist views of slavery. In 1835 French political and cultural historian Alexis de Tocqueville publishes the first volume of his Democracy in America, which evey doctoral applicant tries to cite for a century or more; inventor Samuel Colt patents a revolver later used by the U.S. Army and is called the “equalizer” in the American West; Danish author Hans Christian Andersen writes Tales Told for Children. (I think his book includes the line ”the emperor has no clothes”). Exactly 96 years after Lawrence is born, on Oct. 29, 1929, Wall Street experiences Black Tuesday (following the previous Black Thursday), launching the worldwide Great Depression.

1836, May 25, Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer (Heard) is born in the year the Texas

Revolution is won, two months and 19 days after the fall of the Alamo on March 6, a month and four days after independence is won from Mexico on April 21 at the Battle of San Jacinto, and six days after Comanches raid Fort Parker (between Groesbeck and Mexia, 40 miles east of Waco), kill several inhabitants and seize five captives, including Cynthia Ann Parker, then nine or 10 years old. Cynthia Ann later marries Chief Peta Nocona and bears him three children, including later Comanche Chief Quannah Parker, before her unwilling recapture by Texas Rangers on Dec. 18, 1860, near the Pease River in Northwest Texas. On Oct. 22, Sam Houston is inaugurated as the first constitutionally elected president of the Republic of Texas. In 1836 Congress establishes the Wisconsin Territory and admits to the Union the 25th state, Arkansas, which recognizes slavery, and English author Charles Dickens writes Pickwick Papers.


In Douglas L. Wilson’s 1998 Honor’s Voice: The Transformation of Abraham Lincoln, p. 224, we learn that in November 1840, Lincoln, a 31-year-old Illinois Whig, served as Springfield’s representative in the Illinois House, which met temporarily in the Second Presbyterian Church in Springfield. Lincoln and other Whigs opposed an anti-State Bank measure pushed by Democrats, who inherited their aversion to government banks from Democratic President Andrew Jackson’s antipathy toward a National Bank in the mid-1830s.


Lincoln and other Whigs determined to defeat the Democrats’ legislation by denying the Illinois House a quorum. Lincoln and two other Whigs attended briefly to be sure the absence of a quorum would be determined by their calling for the ayes and nays on a roll call. But the sergeant at arms rounded up enough lawmakers, including Lincoln and the other Whigs, to constitute a quorum by the end of the roll call. “Barred from absenting themselves by the doors [locked behind them], the panicked Whigs opened a [second-floor] window and scrambled out,” says author Wilson. “This, of course, availed them nothing on the issue of a quorum, for no Whigs remained to demand another roll call . . . ” The measure passed. Wilson says Lincoln suffered “instant ridicule and humiliation, the memory of which pained him the rest of his life.” The Illinois State Register, obviously not a Whig publication, hugely enjoyed Lincoln’s discomfort: “We have not learned whether these flying members got hurt in their adventure, and we think it probable that at least one of them came off without damage, as it was noticed that his legs reached nearly from the window to the ground.”


Perhaps the Whigs did not know how many representatives would absent themselves. Perhaps the rules of the 1840 Illinois House and the rules of the 1979 Texas Senate differed on this point. The 12 Texas senators called Killer Bees knew that if 11 of the 31 senators did not show up at the first roll call in the Texas Senate on May 18, 1979, they would break a quorum. Two-thirds of the members, 21, constituted a quorum and permitted the Senate to transact business. With 12 gone, only 19 sat at their desks. Nothing could be done unless the sergeant at arms and Texas Rangers could find two of the Bees and bring them to the Senate.


The Bees -- nine of whom remained the entire 4-1/2 days in a garage apartment in West Austin (one departed from the apartment because of claustrophobia and hid in Houston; one traveled in Oklahoma; and one skipped over the Rio Grande from his South Texas district and hid in Mexico -- accomplished their purpose: To prevent a $5 million separate primary bill that would have permitted conservative Democrats to vote in the Democratic primary and later also vote in the Republican primary for former Gov. John Connally, a recent turncoat who switched to the GOP and ran for the 1980 Republican presidential nomination (Connally was among the first former Democrats who said he did not leave the party, the party left him; what they really meant is that the Democrats under Lyndon Johnson’s Civil Rights bills in 1964 and 1965 granted more rights to blacks than those white “Democrats” thought they should have).


It would have been great fun in 1979 if we knew of Lincoln’s tactic of attempting to break a quorum to prevent passage of legislation he opposed. That would have scored points for the Bees with the public. I wish I knew of Lincoln’s maneuver when I wrote my 1981 book, The Miracle of the Killer Bees: 12 Senators Who Changed Texas Politics. But I couldn’t have known, because Wilson did not publish his book until 1998. And I don’t know if that incident is described in any of the other 42 books I held on Lincoln alone, including Carl Sandburg’s 1926-39 six-volume biography of Lincoln, the 1953 nine-volume The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, and Harvard professor David Herbert Donald’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Lincoln in 1995. We learn from Doris Kearns Goodwin’s 2005 Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, which also won the Pulitzer Prize, that Lincoln passed through a horrible period of melancholy/depression in 18401841.


At the end of my 1981 book, I noted this (in essence) party-purification maneuver would lead to the election of more liberals, blacks, browns and even Republicans. I did not know how true my prediction would turn out to be for Republicans. Today, there are more liberals, blacks and browns in the Texas Legislature, but far more Republicans, who control both the Senate and the House of the 2005 and later Legislatures. That’s one reasonwhythe possible candidacy of Gov. Rick Perry for president is unlikely, because the remainder of the country outside the South rightly regards Texas as a backwater, despite its being the second-largest populated state.





A vigorous Sam Houston, the Father of Texas (more so than Stephen F. Austin) shown after he led 783 “Texians” to victory over 1,200 Mexicans under Mexican dictator Santa Anna at San Jacinto on April 21, 1836, surprising them at their siesta (Santa Anna, who divided his forces, is believed by some historians to have been involved at the time in a sexual escapade with a “high yellow” woman later called The Yellow Rose of Texas). The battle lasted only 18 minutes, with the Texians slaughtering most of the 600-plus Mexicans who died, yelling, “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” and many of the Mexicans bleating, “Me no Alamo. Me no Goliad.” Photo possibly taken at the beginning of Houston’s service in the U.S. Senate, 1846-1859. William J.E. Heard (undoubtedly related to us, but not in our direct line) served as one of the captains, of Company F, 1st Regiment, in the Texian Army at San Jacinto. Heard, from Egypt TX (which my wife Betsy always wants to visit because of its exotic name -- it’s a typical, dirty, wide place in the road west of Houston), quarreled with General Houston on occasion (he thought Houston, in his flight eastward in front of Santa Anna, should have made a stand at the Colorado River, p. 138, The Day of San Jacinto, Frank X. Tolbert, McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., New York, 1959). Houston taught Heard in school years before in eastern Tennessee. The flamboyant general chose a light-colored steed for his mount at San Jacinto, then at

the last minute apparently realized his horse would make a good target for the Mexicans and tried to trade for Heard’s bay. “This old bay is a pet, General,” Heard is supposed to have said. “I couldn’t any more trade him off than I could a child” (p. 138, Tolbert; incidentally, the Uvalde newspaper falsely reported Tolbert’s demise several years ago, and it fell tome to tell Tolbert that.). An article by Kent Biffle in the April 20, 1986, edition of the Dallas Morning News reported, “Once, prancing in front of the artillery, Houston narrowly missed being blown apart by one of the hot-mouthed Sisters [twin cannon]. John C. Ware, of Mont-gomery County, later founder of the first town in Uvalde County, Waresville, near Utopia, in 1852, also served as a captain at San Jacinto. The Texians charged to the music of a bawdy song, Will You Come to the Bower I have Shaded for You. Photo from TEXAS: The Lone Star State, Fourth Edition, Rupert N. Richardson, Prentice Hall, Inc., Edgewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1981, a book perhaps not as good as T.R. Fehrenbach’s Lone Star: A History of Texas and the Texans, MacMillan Publishing Co., Inc., New York, 1968, but so far as I know Richardson never took on airs similar to Fehrenbach, who once told me he didn’t need to use footnotes giving the sources for his statements because 50 years hence he would be considered the source for Texas history. Imagine an ego that large.




Sam Houston later in life. As governor of Texas in 1861, he opposed the Civil War, predicting the South would lose. The Leg-islature removed him from office. Houston died in 1863, two years before the Civil War ended.




Earliest likeness of Abraham Lincoln, a Daguerrotype reportedly taken by Nicholas H. Shepherd toward the end of 1847, when Lincoln served his only term in Congress, a single term largely because he opposed the war with Mexico.


1850, June 23, John Albert Cummings is born in Albany, New York three months after the publication on March 16 of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Scarlet Letter. John became known as “The Strongman of the Dry Frio Canyon” (stories about him, from my 1998 Random Recollections of the Heard Family, also are included here beginning with the second paragraph under 1890). John is the third and last of my great-grandfathers who lived past 40. Photo probably taken in the last five years of his life, 1915-1920.


My fourth great-grandfather, Harvey Gulley (b. May 10, 1831, in Monroe County, Alabama, the eighth son and 12th child of John Gulley and Nancy Bizzel), moved with his family to Dallas County, Alabama, in 1832, then in 1836 to Arkan-sas, where the family lived with Harvey’s employer, James Madison Lijon, who hired Harvey as an overseer. Lijon’s niece, Minerva Jane Lightfoot, 16 (b. Nov. 25 1835), and Harvey, 20, marry on Feb. 4, 1852. Harvey and Minerva’s first child, Mary Ellen Gulley, is born less than six and months later, on Nov. 25, 1852. After 10 years of marriage and six children, Harvey joins the Confederate Army in Arkansas (Company I, 37th Arkansas Infantry) as a private on his 31st birthday, May 10, 1862. What the hell was he thinking? Their sixth and last child, my grandfather John Lightfoot Gulley, was born Jan. 18, 1861, less than three months before South Carolinians open fire on Fort Sumter, starting the Civil War. John’s father joined the Confederate Army in Arkansas a year and four months after John’s birth, and took a shot “in the left hip” in his first fight, at Helena, Arkansas, July 4, 1863 (the same day Ulysses Grant takes Vicksburg, and one day after Robert E. Lee loses at Gettysburg). I think Grant cut his rearward lines, crossed the river and attacked Vicksburg from the souh.Vicksburg did not celebrate July 4 again until 1942, after the beginning of WWII. Captured, Harvey dies in January 1864, probably of smallpox, on Rock Island in the Mississippi River off Alton, Illinois, site of a Union prison [probably called Pock Island and miscalled later]. My grandfather Gulley married twice in Arkansas, but both died, and he left the state for Texas. On p. 80 of Fenley’s 1957 book, Will T. Bunting, born in 1870, later famous as for Uvalde honey and pecans, says his father served in Terry’s Rangers, Littlefield’s Company, of the Confederate Army until captured at Mossy Creek, Tennessee, and confined to Rock Island, where prisoners “even watched the rat holes to catch rats for food whenever they could.” Bunting never gets around to giving his dad’s first name, but he relates this story about a “Negro” named Nathan with Capt. Littlefield. After “a pretty hot” fight, the Negro told what he heard in the fight. “He said those little ‘minnie balls’ would come at him and say, ‘Na-a-athan! Na-a-athan!’ and directly a big ‘bum shell’ come by and says, ‘Whah Iz ya?’ He said he answered it, ‘Right down hyah ‘hind dis tree!’ Capt. Littlefield took care of that Negro as long as he lived, and when he died, he put up a nice tomb stone at his grave.” Ithink Littlefield enjoyed Nathan;s illiterate talk.


Incidentally, “Capt. Littlefield” is the same man, George Washington Littlefield, (photo below) who after the war vied with Unionist George Washington Brackenridge, (photo below) each a wealthy Austinite, to see which one could give the most money, and therefore exert the most influence upon, the University of Texas. Obviously, this competition greatly benefited UT. Littlefield (b. 6.2.1842; d. 11.10.1920), in addition to his earlier benefactions (including his Victorian home on the northwestern portion of the present-day campus, and statues of Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis), left $500,000 to UT to build the new administration building (the UT Tower, completed in the mid-1930s, and in which some federal money also helped), but conditioned that bequest on the school’s staying at its present site. He knew Brackenridge wanted to move the school to the Brackenridge Tract near the present Deep Eddy swimming pool close to the Colorado River in southwest Austin, north of the river. Brackenridge, born almost 10 years before Littlefield, Jan. 14, 1832, nevertheless survived Littlefield by a month and a half. But when Brackenridge learned of Littlefield’s conditional gift, he realized he could not top it. Thought at one time to be worth between $3 million and $4 mil-lion, Brackenridge actually claimed an estate of $1.5 million at the time of his death, Dec. 28, 1920.


Brackenridge never married and did not serve in the Civil War, but he and his father, anti-slavery lawyer John Adams Brackenridge, supported the Union, while Brackenridge’s two brothers, James Madison Brackenridge and Robert John Brackenridge, served in the Confederate Army. Son George devoted little space to himself on a family granite memorial stone in the Brackenridge Cemetery at Edna, Texas, but noted his father “inspired Abraham Lincoln, who heard him in court when a boy . . .” George W. Brackenridge: Maverick Philanthropist, Marilyn McAdams Sibley, University of Texas Press, 1973, p. 5.


Robert became a physician, and Austin’s Brackenridge Hospital, founded in 1884, is named for him. It is the oldest public hospital in Texas, dedicated to ac-cepting anyone, regardless of ability to pay. A centennial book about the hospital, Admissions, Lisa Fahrenthold and Sara Rider, with copy by Carolyn Bobo, 1984, published by the hospital, notes on p. xi in a prefatory note by one of this writer’s favorite interviewees, the late Joe Franz, himself a liberal, who says the site of Texas’ first public hospital did not win acclaim from everyone, because “Texas has always been an independent-minded state which regarded Austin as a center of radicalism.”


As one might expect, a chapter in Admissions is devoted to the UT Tower sniper episode in 1966.


The six-volume New Handbook of Texas, Vol. 1, p. 609, says George W. Brackenridge became a “war profiteer in the Matamoros cotton trade.” But it should also be noted that Brackenridge’s benefactions to UT included B Hall, where boys of small means could stay while attending the school. Later U.S.Sen. Ralph Yarborough lived in B Hall, and once ran ”naked” (actually wore under-wear shorts) from that dorm to the state capitol at night. Latei n life, Yarborough had not beenrecognized as a distinguishe UT alum. This writer asked former House Speaker and Lt. Gov. (presiding officer in the Texas Senate) Ben Barnes to use his influence to obtain that distinction for Yarborough. Barnes went to bat for Yarborough with former Gov. John Connally, and Yarborough received that honor. This writer remembers sitting in the then-Memorial Stadium (DRK’s name preceding “Memoial” did not occur until several years later) main pressbox and watching Yarborough excult in that honor.



George Washington Brackenridge. Photo from George W. Brackenridge: Maverick Philanthropist, Marilyn McAdams Silbey, University of Texas Press, Austin, 1973.




George Washington Littlefield, photo from p. 231, Vol. 1, The New Handbook of Texas, Texas Historical Association, Austin, 1996.











Apparently the first log cabin built in what later became Uvalde County, in 1852, by Capt. William Ware, founder of Waresville (known first as Fort Ware), a bit south of present-day Utopia on the Sabinal River. Ware served with fellow captain, William J.E. Heard (not in our direct line) at San Jacinto on April 21, 1836, when Sam Houston and 783 “Texians” defeated Santa Anna and 1,200 Mexi-cans. Photo from Florence Fenley’s second book on Oldtimers in Southwest Texas, published in 1957. Many other families came to that canyon in 1852.



1853, May 15, Mary Ana Mulchey is born in Mobile, Alabama (d. Feb. 18, 1932, in Reagan Wells TX). She married to John Albert Cummings in San Patricio, Texas, Sept.. 5, 1876. Their children are Mary Elizabeth “Lizzie” (b. June 23, 1877; d. April 29, 1953), Robert Joseph “Buddy” (b. Feb. 19, 1882; d. Sept. 18, 1940), Richard Tully (b. 1885; d. 1953)[the rest of the family shun-ned Tully because of some scandal by Tully in later years; this writer never got told or does not remember what Tully did], “Kate” (b. June 4, 1890; d. Aug. 22, 1972), Henry Baylor (b. Oct. 11, 1895; d. April 17, 1968), and Frank Miller (b. 1888; d. Oct. 23, 1912). John Albert is born less than two months before California becomes a state on Sept. 9, 1850, and less than three months before Congress adopts on Sept. 9-12 five bills based on Kentucky Sen. Henry Clay’s resolutions that come to be known as the “Compromise of 1850,” postponing a final resolution of the issue of extension of slavery to the Western territories. The compromise also sets the present boundaries of Texas, which, for $10 million, gives up claims to the eastern third of New Mexico, all of the Oklahoma Panhandle, southwestern Kansas, a quarter of Colorado (a good part of the Continental Divide in the western half of Colorado) and a small rectangle of south-central Wyoming. In 1850 English authors Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Alfred Tennyson write Sonnets from the Portuguese and In Memoriam, respectively.


1853, May 15, Mary Ana Mulchey (Cummings) (d. Feb. 18, 1932) is born in Mobile Alabama, the year Commodore Matthew Perry on July 8 reaches Ja-pan, closed to foreigners for nearly a century and a half. In 1853 British aviation pioneer George Cayley builds the first successful man-carrying glider, and Italian composer Guiseppe Verdi writes La traviata.





Reading Wood Black, founder of Uvalde in 1854 at age 23 or 24. His brother-in-law murdered him in Black’s store in Uvalde when Black aged 37. The killer fled to Mexico and never returned. Photo from Fenley’s 1939 Oldtimers book, p. 7. 1854, the year Reading Wood Black (b. Sept. 23, 1830 [half a year less than a century before this writer appeared in the Big Spring TX parsonage of the first BaptistChurch, with black hair and a dark complexion that would have led to speculation that his real parents hailed from Mexico and that there must have beena mis up in the hospital, except I counted among the last children born at home. Black got born in Springfield Township, Burlington County, New Jersey; his brother-in-law murdered him in Uvalde Oct. 3, 1867) founded Uvalde, but Black first called the town Encina: “evergreen” or “holm oak,” like the “American holly”; this may be a reference to the many giant live oaks in Uvalde. Black moved to Texas in the spring of 1852. On April 14, 1854, in partnership with Nathan L. Stratton, who accompanied Black from New Jersey. Black purchased “an undivided half league and [a] “labor of land” near the head of the Leona River for $2,500 [he made his money by trading livestock and real estate]. A Spanish league of land varied in size but averaged 3-1/2 miles square. A labor is 174 acres. The half league Black and Stratton purchased amounted to 640 acres. That means they paid a bit less than $3.09 an acre for the land where Uvalde is today. I remember being told as a lad that Lawrence Pike “Cap” Heard could have bought land in the Dry Frio Canyon in the late 19th century for 50 cents an acre, but he said he didn’t need to because if he got ejected as squatter, all he needed to do is move farther west. P. 213 of the 1939 book says W.W. (William Washington) Arnett (1823-1892) was the first Anglo to live on the site, on Feb. 10, 1852, where Black founded Uvalde. This is prior to William Ware’s settlement on Aug. 17, 1852, in the Sabinal Canyon. Arnett supplied hay to Fort Inge.

Black pulled “the two main roads of travel together at Uvalde, where “those roads were then allowed to fork, one going to Eagle Pass and Fort Duncan and the other going to Del Rio and on to California” (page 113, Florence Fenley’s 1939 Oldtimers book). “We recall, as children, how our elders referred to the old Fort Clark road as the road to California,’” Black’s daughter, Mary Black Nunn (b. in Uvalde May 17, 1860), told Fenley, p. 113. Black hired surveyor/lithographer William Thielepape to layout the town of Uvalde into 464 lots, four plazas, a cemetery, park, school grounds, and a garden. Black built his stone house on the corner of East and Main streets, apparently either where the county courthouse now stands or on the site where the plaza across from the courthouse is. Uvalde County organized two years later, in 1856, and celebrated its centennial in 1956.Manyofthe Uvalde Countymen, including this writer’s Uncle Sid, grew beards,.This writer’s first cousin Clarice Gulley, daughter of my Uncle David, twin sibling to my mother, reigned as Queen of the Centennial. Black opened a store, a limn kiln and planted acres of orchards. In 1858, he opened a gristmill. With partner James Taylor, a real estate agent in San Antonio, Black later (1860) operated a large wagon train between San Antonio and Piedras Negras (across from Eagle Pass).

Black neither sympathized with the Confederacy nor Lincoln, Black’s daughter told Fenley. However, his pro-Union father in New Jersey misunderstood the son’s attitude (see below) and disinherited him, That cost Black a share in his father’s $120,000 estate (perhaps $2 million today). Black won election from the 71st Representative District to the Texas Legislature in 1866. He died of a pistol shot from his brother-in-law, G.W. (Tom) Wall, who thought Black owed him money and demanded payment. At the time, Black, ill, lay on a counter in his store in Uvalde, then leased to Benjamin Thomas. According to the 1996 New Handbook of Texas, Wall fled to Mexico and never returned to Texas.

As a boy, Black attended the Upper Friends’ School at Springfield [NJ]. In 1847 at age 17, he became owner and manager of the 144-acre Clover Hill farm in nearby Northampton Township. Influenced by his cousin, Capt. William Reading Montgomery of the Eighth United States Infantry, who then got assigned to Fort Gates, Black moved to Texas in the spring of 1852. On January 6, 1859, he married Permilia Jane McKinney, making him the brother-in-law of G.W. Wall because Wall married one of the McKinney girls, Almelda.

A Quaker, Black got along well with local Indians, especially the Tonkawas, and on several occasions helped formulate treaties with the various groups living on or near the Rio Grande. Not entirely a pacifist, however, he helped to organize and commanded a militia company for protection against marauding Comanches in 1856. In June of that year his company and one from the Sabinal area defeated a Comanche war party some thirty miles below Uvalde, thus effectively stopping Indian raids for two years.

In September 1855 Black established the first school in what is now Uvalde County, and in November he successfully lobbied the Texas Legislature to organize “Encina” County and have his town named the county seat. Although opposed to secession, he took the oath of allegiance to the Confederate States of America and continued doing business as usual until the murder of a number of prisoners by Confederate militiamen after the Battle of the Nueces, on Aug. 10, 1862 (not really a battle; confederate sympathizers murdered 19 German-Americans in their tents; those German-Americans, probably from the Fredericksburg and New Braunfels areas, fled toward Mexico to avoid service in the Confederate Army).

Repulsed by the anti-Unionist activities of Confederate home guards, Black moved to Mexico and remained there until the end of the Civil War. By then he had amassed $50,000 worth of property in Coahuila. In June 1866 he ran as the Unionist nominee for the Texas Legislature from the 71st Representative District. He easily defeated Samuel A. Maverick and S. C. Thompson, then returned to Uvalde in July 1866 in anticipation of the opening of the legislature in August. In the legislature he strongly supported ratification of the 14th Amendment, arguing that Texas’ failure to support the amendment would be interpreted by the Radical Republicans as a sign of disloyalty to the Union. He did not stand for reelection. In September 1867 he attempted to form a Union League in Uvalde. The 1996 Handbook of Texas says this “act of disloyalty” to Texas and the South so incensed Wall that Wall murdered Black in his own store in the presence of several witnesses. This writer is more inclined to believe the story of Black’s daughter about “owed” money.

The town and county later got named for Juan de Ugalde, born in Cádiz, Spain, on Dec. 9, 1729. Ugalde joined the Spanish army in 1738 and first saw action as a captain in 1743 against the Austrians in northern Italy [this is more than half a century before Napoleon Bonaparte]. From 1749 to 1757 he fought against the Moors (Muslims) in North Africa and, during the Seven Years’ War (1756-63), against the Portuguese. Promoted to lieutenant colonel and dispatched in 1764 to South America, where he served as corregidor of Cochabamba, Bolivia, until 1772.

Ugalde returned to Spain in 1774 and won promotion to colonel, and on March 26, 1776, King Charles III appointed him governor of the province of San Francisco de Coahuila in northern New Spain. Ugalde took office as governor on Nov. 23, 1777. Charged with protecting Coahuila from Indian attacks, and specifically from the Lipan and Mescalero Apaches, Ugalde conducted four campaigns between May 3, 1779, and March 9, 1783, against the Mesca-leros in northern Coahuila and the Big Bend and Pecos River regions of Texas. Although his force killed “only” 19 Apaches and captured 67, it forced many others to flee or make peace. For leaving Coahuila’s settlements inadequately protected while on campaign, however, (Spain) relieved Ugalde of all duties on April 17, 1783. He remained in Mexico City until Aug. 26, 1786, when he won promotion to commander of arms of the Provincias Internas, with authority over Coahuila, Nuevo León, Nuevo Santander, and Texas.

Again Ugalde took to the field in January 1787 and combed his territory for Apaches, from the Bolsón de Mapimí in the south to the headwaters of the Colorado in the north, and from the Pecos River in the east to the Guadalupe Mountains in the west. He signed peace treaties in which several Apache groups agreed to settle near his headquarters at Santa Rosa. Promoted on Dec. 3, 1787, to commanding general of the eastern internal provinces and now with com-mand of Coahuila, Nuevo León, Nuevo Santander, and Texas, Ugalde on Aug. 20, 1789, launched a lengthy campaign against the Apaches in West Texas within an area bounded by San Antonio, San Saba, and El Paso. On Jan. 9, 1790, he and his troops, with more than 100 Indian allies, surprised and defeated 300 Lipan, Lipiyan, and Mescalero Apaches at the Arroyo de la Soledad, the present Sabinal River canyon. In commemoration of this victory, the battlefield got named the Cañón de Ugalde; from it the city and county of Uvalde derived their names.

After a change of viceroys, Ugalde again suffered suspension in 1790. His service in the New World involved rivalries, political maneuvering, and abrupt reversals of fortune. He pursued aggressive military actions against the Indians with disregard for the conciliatory policy of the colonial administration, and it is debatable wheth-er his campaigning pacified or merely antagonized the Apaches. After being ordered back to Spain, he continued in the service, being promoted to field marshal in 1797 and to lieutenant general in 1810. In 1815 he won the Gran Cruz de San Hermenegildo decoration. Ugalde died in Cádiz in 1816 at the age of 87. [Most of this history is taken from the 1996 New Handbook of Texas, University of Texas, Austin, Vol. 6, pp. 616-617.] The pronunciation changed to Uvalde, apparently because English-speaking persons could not pronounce Ugalde, which this writer’s books on Spanish indicate it sounds like oo-GAHL-day.

Here is a delightful find. In Fenley’s first book, 1939, on p. 211, the cutline under this photo says only, “ONE OF UVALDE COUNTY’S OLDEST STORES.” But the text immediately below that reads, “The little store building on the bank of the Sabinal River is called the old Hammer store and is said to be one of the first stores in the county.” This must be the store where two Mexican bandits killed Thomas Hammer, Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer Heard’s first husband, in 1857 (there is a historical marker about Hammer on the south side of U.S. 90 near Sabinal). A year later, Martha married Lawrence Pike Heard. We probably are looking at the door (right of the chimney) where Martha sat all night with a rifle across her lap in the event the bandits returned. She got off one shot at those guys, and the shot so frightened her, she thought their return likely. “Though in bad repair at present,” the text says, “the logs and chimneys show the class of buildings the pioneers were glad to have in an unsettled region.” Actually, a structure this small probably possessed only one chimney. If the store stood in bad repair before 1939, it likely no longer exists except in this photo.




1858, June 4, Lawrence Pike “Cap” Heard and Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer Heard use the ninth marriage license issued in Uvalde County (organized in 1856) to marry almost three months before Abraham Lincoln and U.S. Sen. Stephen Douglas debate slavery in seven Illinois towns (beginning on Aug. 21). Lawrence is born on Oct. 29, 1835, and Martha is born on May 25, 1836. These Tintype photos probably got taken near their marriage, making them the two oldest photographs in the Heard family. (I have seen one of her and her first husband, Thomas B. Hammer, in 1856, I believe, and of course that would have been before his murder by a couple of Mexican bandits at his Sabinal store, and before she became Cap’s wife and part of the Heard family.) The photos above are only nine years younger than the earliest known photograph taken in Texas, of the Alamo, without it’s distinctive hump (U.S. Army soldiers took the hump from another San Antonio mission and put it on the Alamo in 1850; that’s how that 1849 photo can be dated). Former Gov. Dolph Briscoe bought the photo from a Connecticut bookstore for $40,000 and gave it to the American History Center at the University of Texas. Tintype photos cost less money and less time than did the earlier Daguerreotypes that took sharper photos. Two bandits killed Hammer at his “old stagecoach stop and store” on the west bank of the Sabinal River in 1857. Unless Martha, a widow with a child, could teach school or work as a nurse, she needed to get remarried right away. Other opportunities did not exist for women in the 19th century. Lucky for us today, because none of the descendants of Lawrence Pike Heard likely would be alive if the woman he married could have entered other professions open to women today. Martha might have chosen not to remarry. What do you suppose that is in Pike’s right coat pocket?



Among other issues, Lincoln and Douglas differed over the Dred Scott, fugitive-slave decision of 1857, in which Chief Justice Roger Taney (TAW-nee) held that black men have no rights under the Constitution the white man is bound to respect. This was the correct, strict interpretation of the Constitution (the Founders barely got the country started by calling black male adult slaves 3/5th of a person, for the purpose of Congressional redistricting in the South. By calling those slaves any part human, the South tacitly admitted the truth of Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, which states, “all men are created equal.” Southerners couldn’t stand not getting any credit in population totals for determining how many representatives in Congress by omitting slaves entirely. Slavery also became the one thing that made the Civil War inevitable. The main difference between Taney’s opinion and the one written by Sandra Day O’Conner in late 2000 that handd the White House to W. is that Taney’s court issued a unamious decision, while O’Conner’s vote made the fifth vote in a 5-4 decesion.

Twelve days after Lawrence and Martha marry (June 4), on June 16, two months before the debates with Douglas, Lincoln says in Springfield, Illinois, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” That statement startled the nation. Lincoln repeated the phrase in at least two of the debates with Douglas, who also used it, quoting Lincoln, to paint Lincoln as an extremist. Lincoln followed that language with these words: “I believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved -- I do not expect the house to fall -- but I do expect it will cease to be divided.”

Douglas replied that the Union endured more than 70 years half slave and half free. Douglas won reelection (then held in state legislatures), but Lincoln, who served as a Congressman one term in the 1840s but lost a reelection bid when he opposed the Mexican-American War, becomes known nationally for the first time and beats Douglas and two other Democrats for the presi dency in 1860 with a fraction over 40 percent of the vote. Some things made Lincoln electable in 1860 despite the opposition of the entire South and his being unknown (before the debates) in all the eastern states: Having three Democratic opponents, who split the other 59 percent of the vote, plus Lincoln’s ability to use memorable words, such as his paraphrase of a biblical verse, “A house divided against itself cannot stand,” which he may also have included in his Cooper Union speech in New York Feb. 27, 1860 (there are no surviving texts of that speech), in the debates with Douglas and on other occasions, no doubt including on his tour of northeastern states after the Cooper Union speech. Mark 3:25 quotes Jesus as saying, “And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand” (also see Matthew 12:25). As mentioned, Lincoln first used the “house divided” phrase in a speech in Springfield IL on June 16, 1858, before the debates.

If we identify any candidate for president in 1860 as liberal, it would be Lincoln, because he opposed the status quo, which, under Douglas’s 1854 “Popular Sovereignty” bill, broke the compromises of 1820 and 1850, and allowed extension of slavery to the Western territories if settlers there voted for it. “Bleeding Kansas” soon followed, with atrocities on each side, by pro-slavery partisans and by anti-slavery partisans. Many historians call Lincoln not only liberal but revolutionary.

Sue Heard Helveston, granddaughter of my Great-Uncle Charlie Heard (Hub’s younger brother by 3-1/2 years) gave me these photos in the late 1990s, before she learned I am a liberal Democrat. Do I expect any of this to sway Sue’s conservatism? Not a whit. Some minds are set in concrete. Sue no doubt is one of those successful managers who thinks she enjoyed zero help along the way, that she did it all herself.





Three leading U.S. senators who worked on compromises to keep the North and the South from dividing over slavery: Democrat John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, Whig Henry Clay of Kentucky and Whig Daniel Webster of Massachusetts. Calhoun used his theory of “nullification” (meaning states could veto what the federal government did) to threaten those who would move too aggressively to end slavery. Illinois Democratic Sen. Stephen Douglas’ 1854 “Popular Sovereignty” bill, allowing voters in Western territories to vote on whether they allowed slavery or not, doomed the Compromise of 1850. Copies of paintings from Time’s commemorative special edition The Making of America: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of a Nation, November 2005.





Five-foot-four-inch Illinois Democratic Sen. Stephen F. Douglas, as he appeared approximately at the time of his debates with Lincoln in the fall of 1858.





Abraham Lincoln as he appeared on May 8, 1860, the week before the Republican National Convention, where he secured the nomination. OK, I confess I included this photo for those who think Lincoln always struck a Christ-like image. There’s some steel behind this face. And not merely steel. Anyone can be stubborn, like a certain guy shown in a photo blowing bubblegum bubbles in a Yale classroom in the 1960s. Lincoln lacked a privileged family, but possessed native genius on a scale seen perhaps once in every couple of centuries, and with those smarts educated himself in Shakespeare, the King James Bible, the Constitution, and in human hearts (actual compassion) better than any of the thousands who went to Yale or Harvard in his century. Copy of photo from p. 89, Lincoln: A Picture Story of His Life, Stefan Lorant, Bonanza Books, New York, 1979.





Feb. 9, 1861, two days before he left Springfield IL for Washington, Lincoln for the first time showed the beard he allowed to grow. Supposedly a girl wrote him a letter suggesting the beard. Photo copied from p. 115, Lincoln: A Picture Story of His Life. Compare this photo with the last one ever taken of him below (April 10, 1865, only four years and two months later), Stefan Lorant, Bonanza Books, New York, 1979. Photographer Christopher S. German.

1859, March 17, Mary Jane Heard, first daughter and first child of Martha Eme line Thompson Hammer Heard and Lawrence Pike Heard and, is born on St. Patrick’s Day, 18 days before the song Dixie, written by Dan D. Emmett, is sung publicly for the first time on April 4 in MECHhanics Hall in New York City on April 4. Four and a half months later occurs the doomed attempt to spark a rebellion by slaves in the South. Marine Lt. Col. Robert E. Lee commands a troop that captures radical John Brown, who is hung on Dec. 2. In 1859. English naturalist Charles Darwin publishes Origin of the Species.


1861, Lincoln suspended habeas corpus soon after being sworn in as president in March 1861. This is well known in modern times, but here’s a wrinkle you seldom hear about. The Constitution itself provides for suspension of habeas corpus “in cases of rebellion or invasion” when “public safety may require it.” Habeas corpus means “produce the body,” of a person being held, to a court demanding that presentation, to give that person a chance to show he is being wrongly held. The reason you seldom hear about this is because that provision in under Article II, which deals with the powers of Congress. (Section 9, part 2.) The Founders understood there should be this exccption, but they placed it in the section dealing with congressional power. However, it appeared -- and this is what happened -- the Congress would disintegrate in a time of civil war. It is true Lincoln did not recognize the rebelling states (beginning the next month, April, with South Carolina) to be in rebellion. He first took the position that those states remained in the Union. Half of Congress went back to the South.


However, less than two years later, when Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, it applied to slaves held in those states still in a state of rebellion, not to other states. So, by that proclamation on Jan. 1, 1863, Lincoln officially recognized for the first time that some states held themselves to be in a state of rebellion against the federal government. This is funny to me, because I got a catalogue in December 2005 from “Labyrinth Books,” which specializes “in scholarly & university press books.” In other words, books for intellectuals. On page 6 of that brochure is listed a book with this title: The Fate of Liberty: Abraham Lincoln and Civil Liberities, by Mark E. Neely, Oxford Press, 1991. The blurb says Lincoln is recognized “as the Great Emancipator, but he was also the only president to suspend the writ of habeas corpus.” When Lincoln did that, no one knew for sure whether Congress would even be together to do congressional acts. I wonder if author Neely knows any of this.


1861, April 27, Martha Emeline “Mattie” Heard, second daughter and second child of LPH and METHH, is born 15 days after South Carolinian forces under Gen. Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, on April 12 fire on Fort Sumter, starting the Civil War. President Abraham Lincoln calls for 75,000 troops. On July 26, Samuel Langhorne Clements (Mark Twain) and his older brother Orion, a Republican, set off from St. Louis in a stagecoach for Orion’s new post as secretary of the Territory of Nevada, to which post Lincoln appointed Orion. OneofTwain’s best books, Roughing It, results many years later. On Feb. 1 of this year, a Texas convention votes 366 to 7 to join the Confederacy, after voters approve the measure 46,129 to 14,697. Governor Sam Houston, who opposes the move, is forced from office on March 16, four days after the birth of Robert Henry “Sarge” Cummings. On May 10 of this year, Harvey Gulley of Columbia County in southern Arkansas (my mother’s grandfather) joined the Confederate Army as a private on his 31st birthday, May 10, 1861, despite having a wife and six children. What the hell was he thinking? Well, he knew of an example in his own family of such impetuosity. His grandfather, William Gulley, b. 1737, joined a North Carolinian militia in the Revolutionary War after 12 years of marriage and five children, with a sixth on the way. Harvey’s wife, Minerva Jane Lightfoot, possibly related to William J. Lightfoot, 25, (sometimes called John W. Lightfoot) of Virginia, who died at the Alamo March 6, 1836, are the great-grandparents of this writer. Wounded in the right “hip” in his first battle at Helena, Arkansas, Harvey died in January 1864, probably of smallpox, in the Union prison camp’s (Alton, Illinois) Pock Island in the middle of the Mississippi River.


Incidentally, a little more than a year before the fight at Helena, Arkansas, Texas hero Ben McCullough (1811-1862) is killed March 7, 1862, at the Battle of Pea Ridge in Arkansas (sometimes called the Battle of Elkhorn Tavern). Born in Tennessee, McCullough and his brother Henry decide to go to Texas with Davy Crockett, whom they planned to meet at Nacogdoches on Christmas Day, 1835, but they got there too late. Then Ben came down with measles and never made it to the Alamo. Ben joins Sam Houston’s Texian Army and commands one of the two Twin Sisters cannon at the Battle of San Jacinto, April 21, 1836. McCullough later serves with John (Jack) Coffee Hays’ Texas Rangers as a first lieutenant in fights with Indians, then commanded the Texians’ right wing in the Battle of Plum Creek (near Lockhart) against a force of Comanches perhaps a thousand strong (including women and some older children) Aug. 12, 1840, after the Indians under Chief Buffalo Hump drive through the Guadalupe River Valley all the way to the Texas coast (at Linnville, on Lavaca Bay, then the port of San Antonio). This greatest raid in Comanche history came in retal-iation for the Council House Fight in San Antonio March 19, 1840, where Texians killed 33 Penatekas (Honey-Eaters) Comanche chiefs and nearly an equal number of Comanche warriors for returning only one white captive, Matilda Lockhart, whose nose the Comanches burned off. McCullough then helps repel a second Mexican invasion of Texas in 1842, serving with such frontier fighters as Matthew “Old Paint” Caldwell and Hays.


It is reasonable to assume that McCullough, who lived in Gonzales, about 50 miles east and slightly north of San Antonio, served with Hays’ Rangers of San Antonio when they first used Colt revolvers against the Comanches. No one knows when Hays first did this, but it stunned the Comanches, who expected only single-shot rifles and pistols, while they could get off six or a dozen arrows in the same time it took the Texians to reload in a running fight. (See pp. 74 and 84, The Texas Rangers: A Century of Frontier Defense, Walter Prescott Webb, University of Texas Press, 1935.) Ben again serves with Hays’ Rangers before U.S. Gen. Zackary Taylor makes him chief scout in the Mexican-American War in the late 1840s, where he distinguishes himself. McCullough caught the California gold fever in 1849, traveled there but did not strike it rich. However, he became sheriff of Sacramento County (Jack Hays became the sheriff of San Francisco County). After returning to Texas, McCullough gets appointed one of two commissioners to treat with Brigham Young and the Mormons in 1858, avoiding a conflict between the United States and the Latter-Day Saints in Utah (the Mountain Meadows Massacre, hundreds of miles south of Salt Lake City, nearly to the Nevada border, in which Mormons and, they claimed, Pah Ute Indians, kill more than 120 pioneers headed for California, occurred a year earlier, Sept. 11, 1857; only one man, Mormon John Doyle Lee, is punished, nearly 20 years later, when he is executed by a Mor-mon firing squad). Jefferson Davis appoints McCullough brigadier general at the beginning of the Civil War.


In the Battle of Pea Ridge in Arkansas in 1862 (where Harvey Gulley is wounded and captured), McCullough, mounted on a tall, handsome, red sorrel that blended with the dead leaves still clinging to the scrub oaks. McCullough wore the only thing he ever wore in a battle, a black velvet suit, a brown hat with a narrow brim, and high boots covered with woolen netting. At 1:30 p.m., March 7, 1862, the opening day of the Battle of Pea Ridge, With his favorite Maynard rifle slung over his shoulder (apparently a single-shot, breech-loading carbine), McCullough rides through the trees and for a moment is sharply outlined against a cloudless blue sky on a rise visible to William B. Miller’s Company B of the 36th Illinois, who braced their rifles on a rail fence. Miller orders, “Fire!” at a range of about 70 yards, and McCullough falls with a bullet in his heart. His horse receives four wounds but runs off. From Pea Ridge: Civil War Campaign in the West, William L. Shea & Earl J. Hess, University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill & London, 1992, p. 110. Company did not merely kill McCoullough, it executed him.


Company B did not merely kill McCoullough. It executed him. It murdered him.


This is a good place to put some of stuff in Florence Fenley’s books that date to around this time or a bit earlier or later. Oldtimers sometimes talked to her about “balls of fire” on the horns of cattle. For example, p. 159 of her 1939 book quotes W.S. Wall on this. Wall, born in 1856, and his parents lived at Fort Inge (est. 1849) below Uvalde when he aged four months old. This phenomena is known as “St. Elmo’s fire” (also St. Ulmo’s fire, St. Ulmo’s light, and “corona discharge”) it occurs in damp weather when the air seems electrified. It is named for St. Elmo (d. 303 C.E.), patron saint of sailors. I remember seeing this phenomena west of Austin on telephone poles around 1970.






Ben McCullough, wearing the black velvet suit in which he is killed in the Battle of Pea Ridge, Arkansas, on March 7, 1862. American History Center, University of Texas.

1861, John Lightfoot Gulley, my maternal grandfather, the last of the six children of Harvey and Minerva Gulley, is born on Jan. 18, 1861, and dies at 75 on Jan. 29, 1936, a little over two months before this writer’s sixth birthday. I’m told I knew him, but I do not remember him. I remember standing at a front window of the Jonesboo,Ark. First Baptist Church parsonage as my mother left, to catch a train to attend his funeral. I remember my grandfather’s third wife, Sarah Amanda Eldridge, b. Aug. 25, 1865; d. March 2, 1944, whose father Peter Eldridge, born in 1797, two years before George Washington died, fought in the War of 1812 as a waterboy (a critical job) in Andrew Jackson’s army at New Orleans Jan. 8, 1815, and who died as a circuit Methodist preacher south of San Antonio at about 85 after siring 24 children by four wives. His first wife bore 14 children. His last wife aged 16 years when he, 54, told her parents, who attended one of his services with that daughter, “God told me to marry your daughter”; she counted two older, unmarried sisters, but they must not have been as pretty. Sarah Amanda Eldridge Gulley is his next-to-last of three children by the fourth wife. My Great-Aunt TennesseeTennie” became the last of Eldridge’s 24 children, I believe, in 1872, when her dad aged 75. A schoolteacher, Aunt Tennie told my mother when I aged about 10 she thought I showed to be the brainest of mother’s four boys, and I would go further than the other three. Tennie thus became one of my favorite relatives. Grandmother died of stomach cancer at 78 after being treated by a Uvalde doctor for eight years for heart trouble. I remember she complain-ed constantly about stomach trouble and seemed to drink endless bottles of Milk of Magnesia. An operation in 1944 revealed cancer so widespread that the doctor closed the incision and said the family should be told she would live only 24 hours. She lived 72 hours because, a San Antonio physician later said, her heart proved so strong.

1861, March 12, exactly one month before the start of the Civil War, is born

Robert Henry “Sarge” Cummings, younger brother of John Albert Cummings.

1862, apparent year of the birth of Wyatt E. Heard, probably a nephew of Lawren

ce Pike “Cap” Heard. “Cap” counted six brothers (three older and three younger) and four sisters. Wyatt E. (E. perhaps stood for “Early,” the middle name of the eldest son and second child (Augustin, b. 1823) of Wyatt T. Heard; b. 3.24.1823 in Jasper County, Georgia. Wyatt E. could have been the son of Wyatt Avery Heard, next sibling after “Cap,” born March 23, 1838, in DeKalb, Alabama. Wyatt A. would have been 23 at the time Wyatt E. got born in 1862. In 1935 (?), Wyatt E. tells Florence Fenley (p. 85 of her first Oldtimers [of Southwest Texas] published in 1939, but I think her interview of him for the Uvalde newspaper is from about 1935). In that first book, she gives his age as 74. She may have corrected his age for the book, published four years later, in 1939. If she did, he would have been born in 1865 (still old enough at 15, as his brother Leon would have been at 13, to ride and shoot in 1880). She notes on pp. 85-86 that the Texas Rangers at Camp Wood (East Nueces) disbanded in 1879 and that Indian depredations “began anew and so bold were they that the Governor of Texas authorized the sheriff of Uvalde County to organize a minute company.” It is reasonable to assume the renewal of Indian raids began in 1880 (the last occurred in 1882). Fenley says Wyatt E. joined the “minute men” (Company G) at age 18. They were called Minute Men because they could depart on a mission in a minute. If he joined in 1880, that would make 1862 his birth year. (“Minute Men” groups organized at least as early as 1858 -- see Fenley, 1939, p. 47.) Wyatt T. Heard (father of “Cap” and of his next sibling Wyatt Avery Heard) moved to Johnson County, Arkansas, prior to the birth of his 11th and last child, Thomas Woodson Heard, in 1844. Most of Johnson County, Arkansas, today is in the Ozarks National Forest in northwest Arkansas (but southeast of Fayetteville). “Cap” Heard, born in Cass County, Georgia, in 1835, moved from Georgia to Bell County, Texas, in 1872. His fifth child and second son, Wyatt Hubbard Heard, my grandfather, got born April 21, 1872 (the 36th anniversary of the 1836 Battle of San Jacinto), in Florence, Williamson County (immediately north of Austin), Texas (south of Bell County). My father, in his 1957 genealogy noted he got the information on the Wyatt T. Heard (dad’s great-grandfather) family from a letter written by Newnan Heard (next sibling older than “Cap”) to his eldest brother Augustin Early Heard in Arkansas on Sept. 26. 1857, from Little River, Bell County, Texas. It is interesting to note that Wyatt E. Heard refers to himself in Fenley’s 1939 book (p. 87) as “the Big Swede.” Could this be from a family memory that stretches back to 1066, when Heards (then called de Herde, later changing their name in England to Heard), numbered among the Normans who successfully invaded England at Hastings and remembered their forebears emigrated from Scandinavia in earlier centuries? Or perhaps it is a reference to his mother’s family (listed only as “Mary M.” in my dad’s 1957 genealogy).

This writer shook hands with Wyatt E. Heard and his brother Leon, apparently in 1944 or 1945, in the Big Lane in front of my grandmother Heard’s 1914 house above Reagan Wells. Already over six feet at 15, I never met a man my height at such a great age, 80 (Leon, nearly as tall, aged about 78). The size of Wyatt E.’s hand in mine also surprised me. Wyatt E. (and Leon) rode with the “minute company” (they called themselves Minute Men) authorized by Gov. O.M. Roberts and formed by the sheriff of Uvalde County after the Texas Ran-gers in the Uvalde area disbanded in 1879. If a male could ride and shoot, which they usually could even at 13 or 14 (see Fenley, 1939, p. 29; or even at age 8, p. 30), he joined in the chase of Indians (usually into Mexico) after a raid. Wyatt E. says he should have been paid $60 a month (but got only “what the little boy shot at”) after being sworn in by Texas Ranger George Baylor (no relation that I know about to the university founder; most of the Baylors seemed to have come from Kentucky), son of Gen. John R. Baylor, Indian fighter and general in the Confederate Army in the Arizona Territory before he got busted to private after ordering Apaches to be killed rather than captured, then, as an enlisted man, parti-cipated in the fight that recaptured Galveston on Jan. 1, 1863, before being restor-ed to general rank.

There is evidence that Lawrence Pike “Cap” Heard may have enlisted in the Confederate Army as many as three times. Each enlistee got a bonus.Wyatt E. recalled for Fenley the last Indian raid in the Frio Canyon, seven miles above Leakey on April 19, 1882, of the McLauren family (Fenley spells it McLaren, but Ranger A.J. Sowell spells it McLauren in Texas Indian Fighters, published in 1900), pp. 513-515. Sowell tells the tale: A band of Indians hid on a bluff above the homestead until John M. McLauren left on a trip to Cherry Creek below the Leakey settlement and until after another armed adult male, John Thompson, rode by. Kate McLauren, the mother, took the children to work in a garden 60 yards from the house, and the Indians raided the house at 2 p.m. Kate sent a boy, Allen Lease, to investigate noise at the house. He fled when he saw the Indians, but one of them shot him dead through the head with a Winches-ter. The same Indian then shot Kate in a breast. She ran toward the river with her baby (Frank) in her arms only to be hit again in the right arm, then received three more bullet wounds, two in the right leg and one in the hip. She handed the baby to 6-year-old Maud, who climbed over the garden fence as the mother again re-ceived a wound in the hip, from which she did not rise. The Indians returned to plunder the house. Maud came back to Kate, who, covered with blood, writhed and moaned on the ground.

It occurred to Maud that her mother would be more comfortable with a pillow under her head, so Maud ran past the dead body of Allen to the house, where she moved between Indians, retrieved a pillow and ran back to her mother with-out hindrance from the Indians. Sowell writes: “Did not this innocence and devo-tion call forth the Divine power which stayed the bloody hand of the savage?” The answer is no. Sowell should have known Indian superstition forbade action against anyone considered “tetched” (crazy), which, to them, such an act by Maud clearly showed her to be. Indians considered it bad medicine to harm a crazy person. Kate died.


Besides, in another version of the story, told to Florence by Mrs. Augusta Austin, born in 1870, so she would have been 12 at the time of the McLaruen killings, told Florence she ran into Maud in San Antonio years later, where Maud then lived. Maud told her that her mother, suffering multiple wounds, asked her to get a pillow for her (not that Maud thought of it on her own). Maud said she did not enter the house while the Indians still plundered it. After they left, she retrie-ved the pillow and took it to her mom. Maud then ran toward George Fisher’s place to get help. Fisher and other men went immediately to the McLauren place. Hogs, carnivorous animals, badly disfigured the face of the dead boy Allen Lease. Men chasing the Indians flagged near Fort Clark at Brackettville, and Capt. Bullis and his troops joined the chase and picked up the trail together with two Seminole Indians. At the Rio Grande they saw the Indians camped on the other side. Indians lacked appreciation of boundaries for themselves but gladly used the “white man’s” notion of property and national boundaries if it would help them. The pursuers waited until they thought the Indians rested, and the two Semi-noles sneaked across the river and surprised the Indians, killing them all except for an old squaw and a boy 15 years old, and brought them back.


We learn from Fenley’s 1939 book, pp. 32-33, that all those Indians got killed by the two Seminole scouts accompanying “minute men” chasing them when the scouts persuaded “Major Bullis” (Captain Bullis in Fenley, p. 176) to allow them to cross into Mexico and attack the Indians’ encampment. Only “one squaw and a boy” survived.


Fenley noted that Wyatt E. five times rode on cattle trails in the 1880s. I should also mention that my brother Wyatt (3-1/2 years older than me) remembers going with our Uncle Sid to visit Wyatt E. Heard at his home in Sabinal, probably before 1945. When I think of meeting Wyatt E. as a teenager, I know he must have thought, “Here’s a kid who hasn’t a clue about my life or what I lived through.”

1863, in this year, on July 1, 2 and 3 is fought the Battle of Gettysburg, marking

the high-water mark of the Confederacy. The next day, July 4, Ulysses Grant’s siege of Vicksburg wins the day. When Lincoln learns of Grant’s victory, he says the “Mississippi now flows unvexed to the sea.” Most Civil War buffs know the decision at Gettysburg occurred before George Pickett’s (and Johnston Pettigrew’s and Isaac Trimble’s) Charge on July 3 (which never stood a chance). Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain’s 20th Maine Regiment barely held onto Little Round Top on July 2 against William Calvin Oates’ 15th Alabama at the ex-treme left of the Union position. Oates commanded approximately 400 men, Chamberlain only 20 or 30 fewer, but the force on attack usually does not win against an equal force on defense, especially if it is going uphill and over boulder-strewned ground. The military rule of thumb is that the offensive force needs to be three times the size of the defensive force to win. A rebel victory here would have made the entire Union position untenable, if the rebels could hold it, because artil-lery from the Little Round Top could have raked every position to the north on Cemetery Ridge and to the northeast on Culp’s Hill. The Union would have to withdraw from Gettysburg. It would have become a running fight pitting the commanders, George G. Meade and Robert E. Lee, which Lee would have won against the plodding Meade. But one must consider that an entire Union corps, 12,000 men, could have moved to Little Round Top within a hour, so the Rebels probably could not have held that hill even if they won it.



An artist’s depiction of Col. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, commander of the 20th Regiment of Maine, charging down the southwestern slope of Little Round Top against Col. William Calvin Oates’ 15th Alabama Regiment late in the after-noon of July 2, 1863. Chamberlain’s men, nearly out of ammunition, heard his cry, “Fix bayonets!” Meanwhile, Oates ordered his men to retreat after yet another of their unsuccessful charges. Each regiment numbered about 400 men that day. The entire battle for Little Round Top involved five Confederate regiments (including the 4th and 5th Texas) against five Union regiments, but the rule of thumb holds an offensive force must outnumber the defensive force about three to one to be successful. Chamberlain earlier tught at Bowdin College, taught himself combat tactics by reading books. Here, he ordered a “Wheel right,” meaning his right flank became a hinge that his center and left flank swung from down the slope. It caught Oates’ men by surprise, and many of them surrendered. Chamberlain later be-came president of his college and then governor of the state. Thirty years later, in the 1890s, Congress awarded him with the Medal of Honor (the only American medal for valor at the time of the Civil War). Wounded five times in the war, Chamberlain got the honor of accepting the surrender of Robert E. Lee’s troops (only 25,000 remained) on April 9, 1865, at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia. Oates, who as a young man fleeing from murder charges in Alabama came to Tex-as in the 1850s, once gouging out a man’s eye in a fight in Waco, later served as congressman from Alabama, then governor, and finally fought for the United States as a general in the Spanish-American War at the end of the 19th century. The Gettysburg Magazine came out quarterly (now twice yearly) and totals more than 40 issues to date. It publishes scholarly articles about various aspects of the battle. This writer visited Gettysburg in 1949 as a member of the Marine Platoon Leaders’ Class at Quantico, Virginia. I visited it again sometime in the 1990s when NBC invited me to be part of its program for Marine Lt. Jack Lummus of Ennis, Texas, who received the Congressional of Honor posthumously for actions on Iwo Jima in 1945 (see 1944 in this document). I picked up several acorns near the slope you see here, hoping to germinate them at my home in Austin, Texas. Alas, I probably overwatered them, and they did not bud. The trees, probably the sons or grandsons of the trees on the slope in 1863 literally used the blood of attackers and defenders as nourishment. Descriptions of the battle say blood saturated the ground. Incidentally, I secured a Texas historical marker for Lummus at the Ennis Public Library in 1999. Artist: Don Troiani, who titled his painting “Bayonet.” Morningside House, Inc., Dayton, Ohio, publishes the magazine.


This is another good place to put some of stuff in Florence Fenley’s books that date to around this time or a bit earlier or later. One of her interviewees for the 1957 book, George Baylor, born apparently around the beginning of the Civil War, claims his father, Gen. John Robert Baylor, born in Kentucky July 27, 1822, nephew of Judge R.E.B. Baylor (Robert Emmett Bledsoe Baylor), after whom Baylor University is named, is the guy who gave Arizona its name. As a Confederate general, John Baylor combined the words “arid” and “zone” to apply to the territory of what are now New Mexico and Arizona, his son George told Florence. Apparently, the general intended it to apply to New Mexico but the name stuck on the second of the two territories after the war and the U.S. govern-ment split them in two (p. 18, the 1957 book).


I mention cattle stampedes elsewhere, but on p. 119 of the 1957 book Fenley quotes Nath F. Watkins (b. 1865) about a horse stampede in Kansas, appar-ently on a cattle drive, caused by “a hard northwest wind” that wore out the horses in about a mile: “We had to turn our faces from side to side to get our breath.”


Sad irons” (heavy castiron jobs heated on stoves) and “battling sticks” (wooden instruments like canoe paddles, only smaller, used to beat clothes after they are rubbed with lye soap, before dumping the clothes into boiling water) are mention- ed. As is smoke from burning “corn cobs” for making meat taste delicious. Hub Heard is one of four boys called good spellers on p. 153 of the 1957 book. Using a peach leaf to make music by blowing on it sideways get mentioned on the next page, 154. Plus, gathering “cedar wax” or “stretch berries” to chew like gum, and blow bubbles big as your head (p. 153). Also, many Indian fights, and a woman who survived 11 arrow wounds (Berry M. Ware’s Aunt Sarah Kinchloe, who lived to be 79 and died of pnemonia, p.50, the 1957 book; Berry being a grandson of Capt. (San Jacinto) William Ware, the first settler, in the Sabinal Canyon, in Uvalde County, Aug. 17, 1852.


We love to praise Minute Men (my great-uncles Wyatt and Leon Heard rode with them as mere boys), but, as we’ve learned, often the good guys became law-men after years of being gunslingers (Wyatt Earp, Ben Thompson), under the theory, I suppose, it’s better to have them inside the tent pissing outside than out-side pissing in. Not surprisingly, Fenley intereviews some oldtimers who think a few Minute Men committed crimes and never got caught. On p. 166 of her 1957 book, Fuzzy Van Pelt (b. 1870) says a few Minute Men “in a few years [after a robbery of gold from a train] began acquiring big ranches.” Van Pelt also says the dirty deed preyed on their minds and they confessed 40 years later,” but they all died by the time of Fenley’s interview. Also see p. 248 for “inside jobs.”


Mean men who beat their horses turned out to be mean in other ways, too, said W.O. Perkins (b. 1882) on p. 176 of the 1957 book. Will Slade (b. 1882) says on p. 206 that cattle drives across the Canadian River (Texas Panhandle and the Indian Territory, later Oklahoma) could be tricky, because “we couldn’t tell where the quick sand was, but you could leave to your horse and he would pick out solid ground to cross on every time.”


F.A. Piper of San Antonio opened a store on Uvalde’s square in 1877 (and gave a job to his 14-year-old brother-in- law, George Horner, father of Fred J. Horner, in 1878). Piper turned out to be a terrific employer, according to more than one employee. Piper’s store must have been one of those Hub and Lizzie and their kids visited after a two-day trip to Uvalde, where they tied up their wagon in the wagonyard behind where the Horner Hardware store stood that I remember in the 1940s. Piper retired in 1926 at age 75 and died in 1931 at 80. Piper adver-tised his establishment as “Dealer in Everything You Want,” p. 194, 1957 book. Another good employer: L. (Louis) Schwarts, p. 59 (1939 book), b. 1840, a native of Alsace-Lorraine (where Albert Schweitzer got born), operated his Uvalde store in 1878 and ran it until he died in 1924, after which his sons Lee and Jake ran it until it closed in 1960. Heards did a lot of business with that store.


Charlie Heard (b. 1875), my great-uncle, says his dad, Lawrence Pike Heard “was the first man to ever bring goats into that part of the country,” p. 218 of the 1957 book. Probably true, but my mother’s father, John Lightfoot Gulley, who sold his Gold Jersey Dairy in San Antonio to come to Uvalde County in 1916 first bred Angora goats to blue-ribbon class (11 such ribbons collected by his sons Harvey and David at the State Fair of Texas at Dallas in 1936, less than a year after Gulley died).


A.P. (“A” for Abner) Blocker says on p. 264 (1957) the first public roping contest in Texas (they roped 3- and 4-year-old steers then, and tied all four legs) got held in Austin in 1888 (the same year of the finishing of the present Capitol), down on the river (Colorado, then Town Lake, finally Lady Bird Lake) east of downtown on first Street. Blocker competed but did not win.


Not only is this the best statute in my opinion of the hundreds at Gettysburg, it also is the best in the opinion of the publishers of Gettysburg Magazine, Morningside House, Inc., Dayton, Ohio, as you can see from the No. 1 in the top right corner of the cover above, denoting the first issue of the magazine, in July 1989. This is the statue erected by North Carolina. Incidentally, there is a terrific book about a North Carolinian regiment entitled Covered With Glory: The 26th North Carolina Infantry at the Battle of Gettysburg, Rod Gragg, HarperCollins, New York, 2000. The 26th (part of Pettigrew’s Brigade) on the first day of the battle, July 1, 1863, pushed back three Union regiments from Meredith’s “Iron Brigade,” the 19th Indiana, the 24th Michigan and the 2nd Wisconsin, attacking from the west-northwest toward Gettysburg from Cashtown, beginning at McPherson’s Ridge. Made up of 800-plus men from North Carolina’s mountains, farmlands and hamlets, and commanded by 22-year-old Col. John R. Burgwyn, the 26th suffer-ed 85 percent casualties, including new men to reconstitute the 26th on the third day, July 3, at the head of Pickett’s Division in “Pickett’s Charge.” Burgwyn him-self became one of the fatal casualties of the first day’s fighting. On the north side of the Cashtown Pike, Union cavalry Gen. John Buford held off superior Con-federate forces, greatly assisted by Sharps .52-caliber, single-shot, breechloading carbines, nearly a repeating rifle because it did not have to be muzzle-loaded. Avoid talking with Union sympathizers about repeating rifles because they do not want to believe such arms assisted them in winning at Gettysburg, but such arms existed and could be purchased privately, in the same way body armor got bought by families with sons in Iraq in the 21st century. Even Yanlees will concede the Union held an advantage on manpower, with Meade commanding 90,000 or more men in his Army of the Patomac to Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia’s 75,-000.

Suppose the Rebels could have held Little Round Top. That still would not have won the war. The South lost the war the day the South started it, April 12, 1861, by shelling Fort Sumter off Charleston, South Carolina. The North possessed almost five times the population (24 million to five million, not counting slaves; slaves did not fight for the South in appreciable numbers, but several thousand free blacks fought for the North). The North held 90 percent of the nation’s industry, as well as most of the railroads and the only Navy to speak of. It is true the turning point at Gettysburg occurred on the second day, July 2, in the battle for Little Round Top. And the battle for Little Round Top hung on the Chamberlain-Oates confrontation, but what most Texans don’t know is that this fight essentially invol-ved five regiments on each side, and two of the five Rebel regiments came from Texas, the 4th Texas and the 5th Texas. It also is true that the rebels suffered from overconfidence. So did Lee. The Army of Northern Virginia in two years lost not a single major fight. But one should not confuse this language with wishful thinking. This writer and every educated Southerner and Texan is glad the Union won that war. That does not prevent us from admiring the passion and the valor of the Rebels.


Several controversies cropped up over the years after the war -- always the case in memories of combat. Lee is thought by some to have planned for his cavalry general, Jeb Stuart, to strike at the center of the Union’s rear at the same time Pickett and others charged its front center on the third day (this supposedly intri-gued later German Gen. Erwin Rommel, 1891-1944), but Stuart got involved in a fight with federal cavalry that prevented this “pinchers” movement, in which the Union center, broken in two, supposedly would be rolled up on either side by the Confederates. Another argument involves Lee’s supposed “enfilade” attack, right to left, on July 2, intended to reach the center “copse of trees” on Cemetery Ridge (Pickett’s target the next day) after the attack on Little Round Top on July 2. Some say it did reach those trees, on the earlyevening or aslate as midnight but lacked support on its left flank when Gen. William "Little Billy" (he weighed less than 100 pounds) Mahone, who performed well the rest of the war, refused to send even a regiment of his Virginia brigade to support Gen. Carnot Posey's Mississippians and Gen. Ambrose Wright's Georgians that evening (or well into the night) on July 2. Mahone ignored Posey's claim to possess countermanding orders from Gen. George "Tige" Anderson for Mahone to advance rather than hold his position (on Seminary Ridge or well forward of that). Supposedly, ele-ments of Posey's unit reached the copse of trees and looked over to the backside of the center of Cemetery Ridge, not far from overall Union commander George Meade's headquarters. These sounds like grasping at straws to me.


The South invaded the North only two times in the war, the Union Army first hal-ting Lee less than a year before Gettysburg at Antietam (Sharpsburg to South-erners) on Sept. 17, 1862, the bloodiest single day of the war -- a combined 23,110 dead, wounded or missing -- despite Union commander George McClellan's great luck of getting a copy of Lee's Special Orders 191 of Sept. 9 for Lee’s 55,000-man army (Lee’s master plan for the invasion of the North). Union private W.B. Mitchell found 191 wrapped around three cigars. But Mc-Clelland, leading nearly 90,000 men, did not wholly believe the truth of Mitchell's find, even though he said, "Here is a paper with which, if I cannot whip Bobby Lee, I will be willing to go home." Essentially, the armies fought to a draw at Antietam, with Confederates inflicting large numbers ofUnion troops from a “sunken road” before the Yankees flanked that position and killed all those Rebels in what became known as “Bloody Lane.” The Union held the field after the battle. This "victory" gave Lincoln the win he needed to issue his Emancipation Proclamation Jan. 1, 1863.


The rationale for the Civil War by the time of Gettysburg already changed, but most soldiers on either side did not know it. The Emancipation Proclamation freed all slaves in states still in rebellion against the Union. With that languge, Lincoln admitted a civil war existed. Most Yankee soldiers continued to fight to preserve the Union. Southern soldiers continued to fight for states’ rights. Only when we look deeper into Southern motivation do we see what most Southerners meant by states’ rights. Mainly, they meant the right of their individual Southern states to permit the holding of slaves, or do anything else they pleased. The Bill of Rights restrained action against individuals by the federal government, not the states. Slavery is the issue that brought on the war. The South tried to ignore that -- change the subject -- by saying many things divided the states, and it wanted the opportunity under states’ rights for those states to decide those things. But the main question concerned slavery. It and all the other issues the South held with the North found the South now facing a potential disadvantage in membership in the U.S. Senate, even with Douglas’ bill on popular sovereignty, which allowed each prospective state out west to decide for itself if it wished to allow slavery. The fight over the Senate majority spelled doom for slavery, what Southerners called their “peculiar institution,” because western sentiment mainly stood on the anti-slavery side. The Founders created a government that restrained the federal government and gave mostof the powerto the states. So the Southheld the better argument, but this war made America a government favoring the federal part of the government, and conservaties forever claim the federal government became too large. So Lin-coln did create a new nation.


The war not only began as a fight over slavery, Lincoln ratcheted it up over that issue with his proclamation. Lincoln previously said if he could preserve the Union by freeing no slaves, he would do that. If he could preserve the Union by freeing some slaves and leaving others in bondage, he would do that. And if he could free all the slaves and preserve the Union, he would do that. He saw his sworn obliga-tion as one to preserve the Union. Many Northerners did not like fighting to free the slaves, especially in southern Ohio (where Southern sympathizers got pinned with the name Copperheads), but more Yankees did, or at least did not violently object. Most confederate soldiers did not own slaves (fewer than 300,000 of the five million Southerners owned slaves, and most of them held fewer than five, because owning slaves amounted to a pricey business), but most rebels also wanted to be able to own them if they reached the point where they could afford them, so the war centered on slavery for them, too. Plus, most Southerners and many Northerners (including Jefferson) believed black people to be inferior to them, which any race would be under slavery conditions of no education and no rights. Irreconcilable views of slavery made the war inevitable.


As many historians have pointed out, Lincoln, with his proclamation, reached back through the unemotional U.S. Constitution and seized upon the words in Jefferson’s Declaration, 21 years earlier, that all men are created equal. Pulitzer-Prize-winner James M. McPherson, perhaps our best modern historian on the Civil War, calls that war “the second American revolution.” Garry Wills, another Pulitzer-winner, in Lincoln at Gettysburg (1992) quotes from one of Lincoln’s debates with Douglas reported in Abraham Lincoln: Speeches and Writings, by Don E. Fehrenbacher, 1989, Vol. 1, p. 398):


This writer thinks the authors of that notable instrument [the Declaration] intended to include all men, but they did not intend to declare all men equal in all respects. They did not mean to say all were equal in color, size, intel-lect, moral development, or social capacity. They defined, with tolerable dis-tinctness, in what respects they did consider all men created equal -- equal in “certain unalienable rights,” among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

A better way to say it is that all men are equal before the law.

Wills rightly says the federal government, following international sentiment, outlaw-ed slave trade [1808, the first year the Constitution permitted legislation on the subject], and not only that, but that even the South held in low esteem the domes-tic slave barterer. Sort of like a drinker may not like a liquor-store owner but will buy whiskey from him all the same. Here are quotes from Lincoln regarding slave-sellers:

You do not recognize him as a friend, or even as an honest man. Your children may not play with him . . . Now why is this? You do not so treat the man who deals in corn, cattle, or tobacco.

And what kind of property is “set free”? People do not “free” their houses, horses, or manufacturers to fend for themselves. [But almost half a million freed blacks existed in Lincoln’s America.]

How comes this vast amount of property to be running about without owners? We do not see free horses or free cattle running at large [Fehrenbacher, Vol. 1, pp. 326-30].



My own reference to a “liquorstore” reminds me of one of my favorite signs near a highway. Barely north of Uvalde on the east side of the highway north still exists a sign that reads “Guns, Liquor.” One can hardly imagine an inducation of a more backward culture than that.

Wills argues Lincoln viewed the Declaration as antimonarchical. Yet when it con-demns King George in terms of the equality of men, it committed Americans to claims even more at odds with slavery than kingship -- since kings do not, neces-sarily, claim to own their subjects.


On Nov. 19, 1863, Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address at the battlefield’s cemetery (the “main” speech, two hours long, by Edward Everett, former presi-dent of Harvard; Everett later told Lincoln he wished he came as close to summing up the significance of the battle as well as Lincoln did in about two minutes). Lincoln’s speech is strangely inoffensive to Southerners. Lincoln took a grander view of the struggle and its meaning regarding the freedom of all men.


One still hears some clever people (the late William Rehnquist, for example) speak of states’ rights. Mostly they are conservatives and Republicans. In any meaningful sense, states’ rights ended at Appomattox on April 9, 1865. But a great historian in Alabama, Forrest McDonald, author of many terrific books on 18th century America, and who could have taught at Harvard, Oxford, the Sorbonne, or anywhere else thinks states’ rights could work in a system that grants those rights on most issues at the state level but ignores them at the federal level.


Many scholars dismiss out of hand the notion of split sovereignty as unworkable. McDonald asks why it is unworkable. Could not the federal government preside over issues affecting the nation as a whole, and the states over those at their local level? Check McDonald’s Nevus Oreo Decorum: The Intellectual Origins of the Constitution, University of Kansas Press, 1985, p. 278. Also see, States’ Rights and the Union: Emporium in Imperia, 1776-1876, University of Kansas Press, 2000. Part of this argument rests on the Ninth Amendment in the Bill of Rights: “The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be con-strued to deny or disparage others retained by the people.” It’s clear the Founders intended to restrict the power of the federal government, not that of the states. That changed, in time, with the 14th Amendment following the Civil War (see Doctrine of Incorporation), extending the Bill of Rights to the states as well as the federal government, not by Congress’ intent but by its language. The truth is, our two basic documents from the American Revolution gave us a split personality as a nation. The Declaration is a liberal document, the Constitution a conservative one.


Also, it is important to recognize that Southerners didn’t like to be told what they can do or can’t do (who does?), even if they constituted a minority of the popula-tion. Northerners would hold precisely the same view if they held only a minority position. No one wants to be told what to do. That attitude is endemic with a free people anywhere, and it couldn’t be otherwise in the world’s first experiment in democracy on a large scale. Rome and Greece don’t qualify as experiments in democracy because they never came close to achieving democracy. One can make the argument that we haven’t either, given our Electoral College and the legal hol-ding of slaves for the first eight-plus decades following the Declaration of Independence. We compromised differences over slavery and representation in order to get the nation started. It cost an ocean of blood (620,000 dead, by far our worst war) to rid ourselves of slavery. The small-population states are unlikely to give up their advantage at the ballot box merely to be nice guys.


McDonald’s arguments are persuasive but, because of our bloodiest war, irrelevant.


Keep in mind that the writer of this genealogy, a liberal, is recognizing an argument he would prefer not to recognize but is forced to when it is warranted.


Here is the title of another McDonald book that ought to be studied by those interested in this subject and who possess the mental firepower to understand it: E Pluribus Unum: The Formation of the American Republic, 1776-1790, Uni-versity of Kansas Press, 1965, Second Edition, 1979. I say “the mental firepower” to exclude buffoons like Edwin Meese, attorney general under Ronald Reagan, who harped continually (and still does) on “original intent.”


One other thing along this line I should mention. Those most passionate about states’ rights want government closer at hand where it is less arduous (and expen-sive) to persuade or, more precisely, pressure state legislatures and city councils or county commissioners than it is Congress. However, we edge closer to a time when it will be as easy, mainly through campaign contributions, for the rich to own representatives and senators in Congress. Some would say we already are there. Any arrangement involving humans is doomed to be less than permanent Govern-ment by the rich is called plutocracy, not democracy. As John Adams noted in the 18th century, no democracy survives forever. We are still in doubt about whether we can keep ours. Some argue we already have lost it.

1864, on Jan. 19, Arkansas, a Union state with slaves, adopted a new constitution banning slavery. On June 3, 1864, Ulysses S. Grant lost 7,000 killed or woun-ded in 20 minutes attacking entrenched Confederate positions at Cold Harbor, nine miles east of Richmond. This is the battle that caused Lincoln’s wife, Mary, to label Grant a “murderer.” But it precisely showed what Lincoln meant when he said he found sa general who understood the arithmetic, meaning the Union could replace those soldiers, while the South could not. Grant besieged Robert E. Lee later that year at Petersburg, 20 miles south-southeast of Richmond. On June 30, Congress passed the Internal Revenue Act to raise taxes for the war. On July 4, Lincoln showed his political acumen by pocket-vetoing a bill that would put reconstruction after the war in the hands of Congress. On Nov. 8, Lincoln is elected to a second term in the first free election held by a democracy during war. That election closely followed William Tecumseh Sherman’s capture of Atlanta after John Bell Hood of Texas (out of Kentucky) withdrew his Army of Tennessee, giving Lincoln the boost at the polls he needed to defeat George McClelland, former commander of the Army of the Potomac. On Nov. 30, Hood destroys his army in repeated futile assaults across more open ground at Franklin, Tennessee, against entrenched positions than Pickett covered at Gettysburg. Hood thought his troop allowed a large Union force to slip by his army in the night.





Lincoln and son ThomasTad.” Feb. 9 1864, three months after he delivered the Gettysburg Address on Nov. 19, 1863, at the Gettysburg Cemetery Photo by A. Berger, of the Matthew Brady Studios.



1865, April 14, actor John Wilkes Booth, a Southern sympathizer, mortally wounds Abraham Lincoln as Lincoln and his wife Mary Todd Lincoln watch a play, Our American Cousin, at Ford’s Theater in Washington. Booth later is burn-ed to death in a barn in Virginia. Lincoln dies the next morning at 7:22 in a bed across the street from the theater. Illinois poet Carl Sandburg, in his masterful, six-volume biography of Lincoln, described Lincoln’s death this way:


To a deep river, to a far country, to a bye-and-bye whence no man returns, had gone the child of Nancy Hanks and Tom Lincoln, the wilderness boy who found far lights and tall rainbows to live by, whose name even before he died had become a legend inwoven with men’s struggle for freedom the world over. Charles Scribner’s Sons, Copyright, 1926, by Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc., New York, Vol. 6, p. 297. This writer quibbles only with the two quasi-passive “hads: in that summation.




Leo Tolstoy in 1863 (he wrote War and Peace in 1863-1869).


In 1909 (a year before he died), Russia’s greatest writer, Leo Tolstoy (War and Peace, Anna Karenina), told the New York World (Joseph Pulitizer’s news-paper), “The greatness of Napoleon, Caesar or Washington is only moonlight by the sun of Lincoln. His example is universal and will last thousands of years . . . He was bigger than his country -- bigger than all the Presidents together . . . and as a great character he will live as long as the world lives.” I copied this quote from an early page in Doris Kearns Goodwin’s 2005 Pulitzer-prize-winning Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, Simon & Schuster, New York; the book’s theme is the selection by Lincoln of the men he defeated for the Republican nomination for president in 1860 -- William H. Seward, Salmon P. Chase, and Edward Bates, plus Simon Cameron and Edward M. Stanton -- as the best minds Lincoln could put in his cabinet, and Lincoln’s willingness to ignore his own ego and pick them. Compare that with the “Presi-dent” of 2001-2009.

It took all of the heart, mind and soul -- even the life -- of our greatest president to finish the work of the Founders.



Last photo taken of Lincoln, on April 10, 1865, four days before John Wilkes Booth shot Lincoln, by Alexander Gardner of Matthew Brady’s studio. Gardener discar-ded his shot (notice the crack at the top) but recovered it after the assassination. From Lincoln: A Picture Story of His Life, Stefan Lorant, Bonanza Books, New York, 1945. Comparing this photo with the one taken in 1861, two days before he left Springfield IL for Washington, we can see the toll taken by the four years of the Civil War. Question: Who tied that tie?



Photo of Ulysses S. Grant, of whom Lincoln said he finally found a general “who understands the arithmetic,” meaning the “white” population of the North, 24 million, exceeded that of the South, five million, by almost five to one. This writer thinks the lar-

ger population in the North resulted from the lack of air-conditioning in the South until

the 20th century. Grant after the war got elected president twice. Not knon tomanyis thatGrant sought the GOP nomination for a third term (despite his corrupt administration

in his first two terms), so FDR did not beome the first resident of the White House to

seek a third term). Photo “by Brady or assistant” from Matthew Brady: Historian

With a Camera.




Robert E. Lee, in a photograph issued in Baltimore in 1861 before the war, but thought possibly to date earlier, because here he wears a U.S. Army uniform. He wore such a uniform before resigning from the Army in 1861 to de-fend what he called “my country,” Virginia, which is how many Southerners thought of their states. Later called “the Marble Man” for his unrevealing demeanor, Lee opened a crack at the battle at Fredericksburg (Virginia) in late 1862, where Union troops charged entrench-

ed Confederates on Marye’s Heights (the later Pickets’ Charge in reverse). Lee commented, “It is well war is so terrible, else we should grow too fond of it.” As reported by historian Shelby Foote in Ken Burns’ 11-hour TV series on the war, Lee once heard a case against an enlisted man charged with some offense. The man shook as he stood before Lee, who said the man need not be nervous because “you’ll get justice here.” The trembling soldier responded, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Many notables in the North thought Lee’s being “a good man” made it all the worst that he fought for the “Rebels” (rebels nearly always being the guys who lose). This picture is approximately how Lee looked at the beginning of the war. Compare this with how he looked (below) nine years later, after four years of the war and five as president of Washington College (later Washington and Lee University). Photo from Volume One of Douglas S. Freeman’s biography of Lee.




Robert E. Lee, standing in the base-ment below the back porch of his Frank-lin Street home in Richmond after Appomattox, 1865. Lee’s home Arlington Mansion, owned by his wife Mary Anna Custis before the war, became Arlington National Cemetery in the spring of 1864. Mary Anna, a step-great-granddaughter of George Washington, lived with Lee in the mansion before the Civil War. Union Brig. Gen. Montgomery Meigs, who lost a son in the war, designated the mansion and its grounds a federal cemetery, to insure Lee and his wife never again would live there.



Robert E. Lee posed, 1866-1867, with his steel-gray horse Traveller for photog-rapher Michael Miley. Not an exceptionally tall man (5-foot-11), Lee “rode tall,” because of a long body. One of my 200 books on the Civil War (I can’t find the passage right now) contains a moving description of Lee and Traveller after Appomattox (April 9, 1865). Lee rode down a road crowded by his remaining army,

only 25,000 effectives, many shouting they wanted to continue fighting. They pres-sed forward, all with streaming eyes, some having to reach across others to touch Traveller’s flanks. There’s a similar passage, even more detailed (Lee wept, too),

in Douglas Southall Freeman’s Vol. 4, pp. 144-145 of his biography of Lee.

The best thing Lee said after the war was, “We are all Americans now.” That is huge. Many of the men who fought with him wanted to continue the fight. Grudge-holders to this day champion “When the South rises again.” They don’t know it, but the South already rose again. Blessed with better weather than the Rust-Belt North, the South continues to receive the benefits of a brain drain from the North. As presi-dent of Washington College, Lee repeatedly challenged his charges, “The eyes of the South are upon you.” He knew how important the work and character of the first gen-eration of young Southerners after the war would be in restoring the image of the South. One of those young men, William Prather, a friend of Lee and a pallbearer at Lee’s funeral, became president of the University of Texas. He paraphrased Lee’s phrase, repeatedly telling UT students, “The eyes of Texas are upon you.” At the an-nual spring minstrel show in May 1903, students put classmate John Lang Sinclair’s parody poem, The Eyes of Texas, to the music of I’ve Been Working on the Railroad (aka The Levee Song). The skit delighted Prather, and the lyrics and music be-came the school song. Photo from volume four of Freeman’s four-volume, Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of Lee, R.E. Lee, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 19-35; also from Matthew Brady: Historian With a Camera.






Last photograph of Robert E. Lee, taken in Lexington, Vir-ginia, in 1870. Lexington is the site of Washington & Lee University, where Lee served as president from the end of the Civil War until his death five years later. Before Lee’s presi-dency, the school bore the name Washington College. Lee’s name got added later. Here, Lee is almost 63. Metropolitan Life Insurance Co. in New York offered him $50,000 (com-parable to half a million or more today) merely to use his name selling its insurance in the South. Although he lacked any means of making a living until he later got the offer from the college, Lee turned them down. Compare that with Grant’s selling his name to a New York firm, where he worked but lacked any experience in business except a failed one before the war (sort of like George W. Bush, whose only success depended on Arlington taxpayers’ money to build a baseball park), and cor-ruption caused the firm to fail. The same happened later in Grant’s two terms in the White House, with perhaps more of

an excuse: Grant hated politics, did not pretend to possess

any political skills, and ended up presiding over the most cor-rupt administration in history, even the W. and Cheney’s. Photo from the last volume of Freeman’s biography of Lee.


1865, July 4, Henry Lawrence Heard, first son and third child of LPH and


METHH, is born almost three months after Robert E. Lee surrenders to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox on April 9, and Lincoln is assassinated in Ford’s Thea-ter by Southern-sympathizer John Wilkes Booth on April 14. Sarah Amanda Eldridge is born on Aug. 25 as one of the last children of Peter Eldridge’s fourth wife, a little over five months after Appomattox. She will become the third wife of John Lightfoot Gulley, born Jan. 18, 1861, just under three months before the start of the Civil War. Sarah and John are the parents of this writer’s mother, Minerva Tennessee Gulley, born Oct. 18, 1899. In late 1865, Mark Twain publishes The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and English writer Lewis Carroll publishes Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. On June 13 is born Irishman William Butler Yeats (YATES), the greatest lyric poet in Eng-lish. He died in 1939, disappointed in love, because the woman he loved, Maude Gonne, married another. Imagine being the greatest lyrical poet and not succe-eding in winning the woman you love.

1868, March 5, the impeachment trial of President Andrew Johnson, who succe-

eded Abraham Lincoln, begins in the 54-member U.S. Senate. Johnson faces nine charges regarding the Tenure of Office Act for dismissing Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, and two charges relating to Johnson’s “uncouth” behavior toward Congress. A two-thirds vote is necessary to convict. Everyone knows it will be close. On March 16, when the name of Sen. Edmund G. Ross, a radical Re-publican from Kansas, is called, he remembered later, “I looked down into my open grave. Friendships, position, fortune, everything that makes life desirable . . . were about to be swept away by the breath of my mouth.” “Not guilty,” he said softly. That made 19 “no” votes and rendered a not-guilty verdict. Ross never again will be elected to national office. The Senate in the 1999 impeachment

trial of Bill Clinton (who lied about sex) does not achieve even a majority on either of two counts against the president, when a two-thirds majority is required by the Constitution to convict, the Founders having understood that impeach-ment always is a political maneuver, so a majority vote will not suffice. Some ar-gue the difference between Clinton’s lies and those of George W. Bush is that Clinton told his under oath. Anytime a president lies on national television to the American people, it at least equals lying under oath. Clinton’s trangressions with an intern,and his getting away with them (notbein convicted on the impeachment charges, shows we have advanced as a country more than most Europeans assumed. Our election of a half-blackman president confirms our maturity.

1868, April 4, Annie Ella Heard, third daughter and fourth child of LPH and

METHH, is born a month and a half after Congress impeaches President Andrew Johnson (on Feb. 24), who survives the trial in the Senate when the vote, 35- 19, fails to achieve a two-thirds majority. Kansas Sen. Edmund G. Ross casts the deciding “Not guilty” vote. Ross never again wins election to national office. In 1868 William Gladstone becomes prime minister of Great Britain, and Ameri-can author Louisa May Alcott publishes Little Women.

1872, April 21, Wyatt Hubbard Heard, second son and fifth child of LPH and

METHH, is born in Florence (Williamson County) TX 36 years to the day after fewer than 800 Texians under Sam Houston defeat Santa Anna and about 1,200 Mexicans at San Jacinto, winning Texas independence. Almost two months before Wyatt is born, on March 1, 1872, Congress creates a “public preserve” at Yellowstone, which becomes the first national park in world history. Also born on April 21 (1915) is actor Anthony Quinn.


During Reconstruction, finances force John Lightfoot Gulley to withdraw from school after the fourth grade. His mother Minerva Jane Lightfoot dies in 1877, and John becomes an apprentice to a merchant, who provides John with textbooks so he can continue his education in the evenings. In the 1880s, John works for merchants Cornelius Brothers and Woods Brothers in Hope, Arkansas (later the birthplace of William Jefferson Clinton). John marries twice in Arkansas, first to Julia [which would have been my name, if I got born a girl, as my parents hoped], Annie Staggs (b. May 17, 1869). After Julia bears one son, Dixon, she dies of “swamp fever” on Sept. 27, 1888. Two years later, John marries Belle Battle (b. 1870) on Sept. 17, 1890. John and Belle have one son, Leroy, before John moves the family to San Antonio in December 1891, where John works for C. F. & H. Gunthers, wholesale grocers. Belle gives birth to a second son, John, born in 1892, before she also dies (tuberculosis?), in 1895. John marries a third time, to Sarah Amanda Eldridge (b. Aug. 25, 1865, the next-to-the-last child of Peter Eldridge by his fourth wife) on March 19, 1896.

A (probably dubious) family story holds that some members of the Gulley family owned what is today North Little Rock at the time my grandfather left for Tex-as after his second wife, Belle Battle Gulley, died in 1895.

1874, Nov. 30, Winston Churchill is born. A stutterer in his youth, he will become a

great orator, a terrific writer and, will lead England in the darkest days of World War II in 1940.

1875, this year, probably in the early spring, so they could build homes and sow

crops in time for winter, the families of Lawrence Pike “Cap” Heard, his broth-er, Augustin Heard (12-1/2 years older than Pike), and of two other Anglo-American men, Louis Bohme and Charlie Jones, and all their families, settle the Dry Frio Canyon. Frio means cold in Spanish. The cold river, in southwest Texas, gains its refreshing quality from numerous springs feeding it from the bottom. The roughly north-to-south Frio River runs parallel to the Dry Frio, about 10 miles to the east. Both it and the Dry Frio, which earns its name from low flow and frequent gaps during rainless weather, begin at the edge of the Edwards Plateau and over the millennia have carved hilly canyons in the Edwards’ southern bank for a dis-tance of about 20 miles before they hit the level brush country, thence they join and slip southeastward to merge with the Nueces and head for the Gulf of Mexico at Corpus Christi. At some point in one of her two books on oldtimers of Southwest Texas, Florence Fenley calls the year of settlement of the Dry Frio 1876, but it occurred a year earlier. George Nelson thinks Mexican cedar choppers lived in the canyon earlier, and I am inclined to think so, too. In 1875, Mary Baker Eddy publishes Science and Health with a Key to the Scriptures; and New York City’s Tammany Hall leader, WilliamBossTweed, is convicted of cheating the city out of $200 million (he escapes jail and flees to Cuba; but, a diabetic with a bad heart condition, he dies in the Ludlow Street Jail in New York City April 12, 1878, at age 55).

1875, Aug. 20, Charles Augustin “Uncle Charlie” Heard, third son and sixth child


of LPH and METHH, is born in Utopia TX, 11 days before a murder conviction on Sept. 1 breaks up a violent group of Irish anthracite miners, the Molly Maguires, who have been abused by Pennsylvania mine owners. (James Jones, who wrote the best book about the U.S. Army life before WWII, makes several references to the Molly Maguaries late in From Here To Eternity. The women and babies of those four families probably did not move to the Dry Frio until the fall of 1875, after the men built log cabins to house them. Born eight month earlier, on Jan. 22 in La Grange KY, is movie-producer D.W. Griffith (real name David Lewelyn Wark), who will be labeled by Ephraim Katz’s The Film Encyclopedia “the single most important figure in the history of American film . . . ” Griffith makes hundreds of movies but is remembered mostly for his 1915 The Birth of a Nation, which shows his bias in favor of the Confederacy (his Kentucky family suffered in Reconstruction). Griffith dies in 1948. French composer Georges Bizet in 1875 writes the opera Carmen. Albert Schweitzer is born Jan. 4, 1875, (d. Sept. 4, 1965) becomes perhaps the world’s leading theologian, a master of organ music (particularly creations by Johann Sebastian Bach), and a medical doctor. Schweitzer in 1913 establishes a hospital at Lambaréné, French Equatorial Africa (later Gabon), where he remains to the end of his life at age 90. Because of his “reverence for life,” he will not permit the killing of spiders in his hospital (the record is unclear as to cockroaches).

1876, Sept. 5, John Albert Cummings and Mary Ana Mulchey marry at San Patricio

TX. Two months and 10 days earlier, on June 25, 1876, George Armstrong Custer and about 225 men (Custer divided his force) of the 7th Cavalry perish in Montana at the Battle of Little Bighorn under attack by 2,000 Sioux and Cheyenne led by Crazy Horse and Chief Gall after a vision of medicine man Sitting Bull of blue-coated soldiers falling head-first into the camp of the Sioux. After a 1983 prairie fire, archeologists combed the ground for bullets and de-termined the Indians out-gunned the soldiers, carrying as many as 200, 16-shot repeating Henry and Winchester rifles vs. government-issue Springfield single-shot carbines and Colt six-shot revolvers. Nine days after the battle, the country celebrates its 100th anniversary at the same time the reports of the anni-hilation of Custer and his men reach the East Coast. The real result of the battle is the defeat of the plains Indians over the next couple of years and the forced incar-ceration of them in reservations. A new book in 1999, Little Bighorn Remembered: The Untold Indian Story of Custer’s Last Stand, by Herman J. Viola, recounts the battle from the point of view of the Indians, and a review in the History Book Club brochure in November 1999 notes, “[n]early all this testimony is from descendants of eyewitnesses . . . [many of whom] tell of their people’s deep reluctance to speak of the events for decades after the battle, fearing reprisals for the humiliation inflicted on the nation that centennial summer.” The nation may have felt embarrassment but it shouldn’t have. For 225 cavalry soldiers to be over-whelmed by 2,000-plus better-armed Indians is no disgrace. But no United States force that large ever lost to the Indians before. And, one should note, Custer could have been twin to Texan (out of Kentucky) Gen. John Bell Hood, whom Robert E. Lee characterized as “All lion and no fox.” Except for a claimed plan for a pincher movement with Jeb Stuart’s cavalry on the back side of the Union center, “Lion” is precisely what Lee himself looked like on the third day at Gettysburg. An excellent regimental commander, Hood proved to be a disaster as a Corps com-mander, destroying his Army of Tennessee in 1864 in five futile charges over open ground (a greater distance than Pickett crossed at Gettysburg the year before) against an entrenched Union force at the Battle of Franklin (Hood “punished” his men for “allowing” George H. Thomas’ Union army to pass them in the night, when Hood, doped up with laudanum, opium and alcohol, for his wounds -- par-ticularly those from Gettysburg -- issued ambiguous orders; Hood lost 6,300 dead, including six generals, among whom is Texan Patrick Cleburne [CLAY-burn in his native Ireland but CLEE-burn for the town named for him in Texas], yet Hood is honored by the naming of Fort Hood and Hood County after him). Twin to Hood is George Armstrong Custer, who, when he topped the hill at Little Big-horn in 1876 and saw the Indian encampment for miles down the Little Bighorn River, shouted, “Hurrah, boys, we’ve got ’em!” Have there ever been two bigger jerks?




After the discovery of gold in present South Dakota’s Black Hills, this 1874 photograph by W.H. Illingworth of St. Paul, Minnesota, taken from high in the hills, shows some of the 110 wagons of the Black Hills Expedition in unusual single file because of the rugged terrain. Gen. George Armstrong Custer and his scouts led the way while a battalion of infantry covered the rear. Normally, Custer arranged his wagons in four columns and flanked by protecting columns of cavalry. This invasion of what the Sioux Indians considered their sacred hills infuriated the Sioux and led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn two years later, June 25, 1876. The writer of this genealogy remembers seeing an interview of a mature Sioux woman on the History Channel in the 1990s in which the woman said she and other Sioux would level Mount Rushmore if they could. Photo from The Custer Album: A Pictoral Biography, Bonanza Books, New York, 1964.



Sioux medicine man Sitting Bull, in later years in cap-tivity. His vision of blue-coated soldiers falling head-first into the camp of the Sioux came true, otherwise no one today would remember that vision. The late astronomer and TV’s Cosmos-host Carl Sagan made a point of explaining “hits” and “misses” in his long effort to dispel superstition. Smart guys agree with Sagan, but the tabloid buyers will always have faith in extrasensory perception, clairvoyance, palmreading, etc., etc. The late basketball coach and humorist Abe Lemons loved to note palm-readers and crystal-ball advocates always “live in crum-my houses.” Sitting Bull later appeared briefly in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. An Indian force of 2,000, armed with as many as 200, 16-shot repeating Henry and Winchester rifles vs. government-issue Springfield single-shot carbines and Colt six-shot revolvers over-whelmed Custer’s 225 men from the 7th Cavalry (Custer divided his force into three parts). Accurate at several hundred yards, the Springfield proved to be nearly use-less at close range. Photo from Old News, Marietta PA, established 1989.





One of the many paintings of “Custer’s Last Stand” as imagined by the artist, in this case H. Steingger in 1878. Custer stands with aimed revolver behind and below the trooper preparing to swing his sword. Many depictions showed Custer and others wielding swords, which would not have been possible be-cause all cavalrymen obeyed the order to leave their swords back at the fort. Custer also left behind two horse-drawn Gatlng Guns, the earliest machine-guns, because he thought they would slow him down (they weighed hundreds of pounds). Below: The most famous of the paintings of the last stand, which hung in hundreds of saloons, by Otto Becker in 1895. Photos from The Custer Album: A Pictoral Biography, Bonanza Books, New York, 1964. Custer stands a bit left of center with upraised sword. The painting above also is from Lawrence A. Frost’s book on the battle. The Battle of the Little Bighorn oc-curred one year after Lawrence Pike Heard and three other Anglo men and all four families settled the Dry Frio Canyon in 1875.





Custer’s hair is longer here than at the time of the Battle of the Little Bighorn by about six inches.




This illustration of the Battle of the Little Bighorn, drawn by the winners, is perhaps only slightly inferior to the Bayeau Tapestry shown earlier in this genealogy on pp. 15-16. From Double Trophy Roster Book, Heye Foundation, Museum of the American Indian, New York City.


1877, June 23, Mary Elizabeth Cummings (Heard), first daughter and first child

of John Albert Cummings and Mary Ann Mulcahay Cummings, is born in San Patricio TX less than a year after Little Bighorn and nearly four months after Reconstruction ends on March 2 in a deal giving the 1876 presidential election to Ohio Republican Rutherford B. Hayes over New York Democrat Samuel J. Tilden. Tilden wins the popular vote 4,300,590 to 4,036,298 but loses the elec-toral vote 185-184 when a congressional commission of eight Republicans and seven Democrats votes 8-7 against Tilden in each of the contested election results in Florida [yes, Florida again], Louisiana and South Carolina [all Confederate states]. Under the deal, Hayes, called Rutherfraud by the Democrats, withdraws the last federal troops from the South. Born four days before Lizzie, on June 9 in Savannah GA, is great character actor Charles Coburn (he dies in 1961). Co-burn, who wins an Oscar for best-supporting actor in 1943’s The More the Merrier, and who received two other Oscar nominations, always reminded this writer of his father in the father’s later years -- fleshy, full lips, and full of wise counsel. In 1877 American inventor Thomas Alva Edison devises the phono-graph, which John Phillips Sousa says will be the death of music (and that could have begun to be true in the late 20th century when millions of people see nothing wrong with taking [stealing] music off the Internet without paying for it). Sioux war-rior chief Crazy Horse is killed in this year after surrendering with 1,000 tribes-people needing food. The claim is he tried to escape.

1878 (month and day uncertain) Dexter Heard, fourth son and seventh child of

LPH and METHH is born (dies in infancy). Actor Lionel Barrymore is born on April 28 in Philadelphia. Barrymore will appear in some 250 movies and win a best-actor Oscar for 1931’s A Free Soul. He played in 15 Dr. Gillespie films in the late 1930s and early 1940s despite being confined to a wheelchair. Born on July 4 in Providence RI is actor-singer-dancer George M. Cohan, whose sig-nature song will be Yankee Doodle Dandy. He dies in 1942. Edison establishes his Edison Electric Light Co. in New York City and, the next year, on Dec. 31, 1879, publicly demonstrates his invention of the incandescent light bulb.

1879, birth year of Joseph Stalin (real name: Iosif Vissarionovich; Stalin means

steel in Russian, and his name is liberally interpreted as Man of Steel) in the Rus-sian state of Georgia. He will succeed Vladmir Ilich Lenin (1870-1924) as com-munist dictator of the Soviet Union upon the death of Lenin in 1924. The Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 ousts the Russian Czar Nicholas II of the 300-year-old Romanov Dynasty and socialist Alexandr Kerensky, who briefly held power after the revolution. Stalin murders as many as 30 million Russians in his drive to centralize agriculture and industrialize his country in the 1930s. He signs a pact with Hitler only to see it broken with Germany’s invasion of the U.S.S.R. on June 22, 1941, in Operation Barbarossa. Stalin dies in 1953.

1879 also is the birth year of Albert Einstein, on Friday March 14 in Ulm,

southern Germany. Adoph Hitler dismissed arguments that a super bomb might be built from an investigation of nuclear fission. Hitler called that science “Jewish phys-ics,” p. 28, Time magazine’s 2005 special edition on the 60th anniversary of VE Day (Victory in Europe). (See 1905 below.)



Front of “Cap” Lawrence Pike Heard’s saloon in Uvalde TX in 1880. Lawrence, my father’s paternal grandfather, is the fifth man left of the center post, with his hands at his sides. Lawrence’s middle name probably honored early 19th century explorer Zebulon M. Pike, 1779-1813. Pike explored a large area west of the Mississippi (but not Mexico’s Texas, which did not come into the Union until 1845, and declared that land desert country unfit for habitation (regarding what later became Oklahoma, he possessed a point). As an Army lieutenant in 1806, Pike failed in an attempt to climb the 14,110-foot peak later named for him. He died a brigadier general leading a successful charge against Fort York in Canada in the War of 1812. The boy beside the post above is thought to be Wyatt Hubbard Heard, my dad’s father, at age 8. Wyatt’s grandfather (Lawrence Pike’s father) also bore the name Wyatt, Wyatt T. Heard, born Nov. 28, 1799, in Greene County, Georgia, the first son of the second Thomas in our line. That Thomas got born in 1775, the second son and seventh child of the first Thomas. His father, Thomas, born in Virginia in 1742, served as a captain in the American Revolution. Ex-Confederate soldiers such as these in this 1880 photo refused to shave until the South “rose again.” This does not make sense, considering that Lincoln, and the hated generals Grant and Sherman, all wore beards. We would not have this photo (and certain members of our family would deny the “sa-loon” story) except for the research of George Nelson in the Uvalde County Ar-chives. Even today some in the family add “and store” to “saloon.” We don’t know when Lawrence bought or built the saloon, or when he sold it. But listen to this lan-guage from Florence Fenley in her 1939 Oldtimers (of Southwest Texas), p. 93, quoting Emma Kelly Davenport, b. Aug. 27, 1864, in the Sabinal Canyon (Utopia):

Uvalde [in the 1870s] was known as a “bad town.” Men strode into the saloons with their well-oiled six-shooters swinging from their belts in such a way that they slipped into handy palms whenever necessary. Heavily bear-ded faces, heavy boot heels and heavy voices were common in the gay sa-loons whose walls were hung with pictures of nude women in innocent or obscene poses. But eye met eye, and each man watched the other closely for many a killing happened those days. And the children heard the shots and saw dead bodies afterward. They heard cowboys and sol-diers shoot up the town at night and their hearts beat wildly at the sound of running horses and pistol fire. That certainly was a wild place if ever there was one, and we were scared to death the whole time we lived there.” Her father, Chris Kelly, Gid Thompson and others in 1870 gathered a herd of 3,000 cattle and drove them to California, where they knew they could get a good price from gold-diggers. Kelly took his family to Uvalde for safety, because Fort Inge (established in 1849 and named for Lt. Zebulon M.P. Inge, killed in the Mexican-American War in 1846; Robert E. Lee visited the fort in the 1850s) whuch sat nearby to the south, while he would be on the drive. “Many a time I’ve gone under the bed when I was little and all that shooting was going on,” Emma says in Fen-ley’s book. “Rangers and soldiers and cowboys would come in there and get on wild sprees and then shoot up the town . . . It would have scared a grown person, let alone a child.” “Gay” possessed a different meaning in those days. Other oldtimers interviewed by Fenley also remarked on how wild Uvalde proved to be in the old days, just not as readable as Daven-port.



Emma Kelly Davenport, quoted in the cutline above about saloons in Uvalde in the 1970s. Photo from Florence Fenley’s 1939 book, Oldtimers, p. 91. This photo reminds me of my Grandmother Gulley, only Davenport is thinner. Grandmother Gulley, born Aug. 25, 1865, so she aged nine years older than Emma. Small for her age but a tomboy, none-theless, Emma said she could outrun any boy in the country, except for “Charley Harper, and I could run right with him.” At age 14, she married John Davenport, who, her hard-drinking schoolteacher, “Judge Mc-Cormick,” said, “could throw a baseball farther than any boy he ever saw.” John and Emma produced 10 children, nine who survived to adulthood. She remembered, for Fenley, a trip to San Antonio after she accepted Davenport’s marriage proposal but before they married. That would have been in 1877 or 1878. They went north in San Antonio “to San Pedro Spring to the zoo” (later the Brackenridge Zoo) in order to ride “on a “street car” pulled by “a little Spanish mule.” At the zoo, they saw “a bear, a wolf and a coon in a pit about ten or twelve feet square.”


1880 (month and day uncertain) Mary Elizabeth Cummings, at age 3, sees free In-


dians riding past her house close to Leakey. She tells this story to grandson Robert Heard in the mid-1940s (she died in 1953). It is approximately the same year in the mid-1940s that Robert’s Uncle Deck explains why the same field cleared of rocks the year before needed the same work again: “The Indians bring them back.” Robert half believed this yarn before he realized Deck pulled his leg. The record historical flood in the Dry Frio Canyon occurred in this year, with Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer Heard and at least four of her and Lawrence PikeCapHeard’s children (including Hub, 8, and Charlie, 5) climb atop the roof of their log house on the spit of land just north of Honey Creek (which begins on the south face of Mule Mountain) where it empties into the Dry Frio River (perhaps 200 yards north of the present Reagan Wells Baptist Church).


1880, September, month of the greatest historical flood of the Dry Frio River.

Pike told Martha he saw signs of high water, and he told her she should take the children to a tree in back of the cabin and climb up on the roof if a big flood came while he treated his rheumatism at a hot springs in Fort Davis in West Texas. Early in the evening, Martha heard the sound of chickens flapping their wings. She put her feet out of bed -- into a foot of water. She took the children to the tree out back, climbed to the roof and they clung to the chimney as lightning flashes show cows and horses and trees rushing by in the flood caused by a 19-inch rainfall at the head of the canyon. Charlie remembered the experience for Florence Fenley in her 1957 book Oldtimers of Southwest Texas, p. 216. The guess here is that a hurricane off the coast of Texas caused that rain. Incidentally, we learn from Fen-ley’s 1957 book, pp. 150-155, another Cummins family, which spelled its name without the “g,” lived in the Dry Frio Canyon in 1880, between Aldine and the road to Concan, and that family also included a Mary Elizabeth, but she called herself a Kelly earlier and married into the Cummins family. Those Cumminses also endured the 1880 flood. Many years later, a likely descendant of those Cum-minses (I don’t remember his first name) ran the Reagan Wells Store in the 1950s.




Dry Frio Ranch home of Clabe Davenport, grandfather of the “Florence Fenley.” Undated photo from Fenley’s first book on Oldtimers, 1939, but I’m guessing 1882-1885. This would have been a rich man’s house in that period. The Davenport home I remember from the 1940s sat a couple of hundred yards south of the intersection of U.S. 83 and Farm 1051 (the name of the Dry Frio Canyon road after the Highway Department paved it in the late 1940s). George Nelson got born on this site one day before the Heard Reunion in 1947, but, as I remember, it stood only one-story house then. There also is a story about Sarge Cummings pulling his gun and chasing a guy at a wedding at this site, probably in the 1910-1920 period. Fenley does not say so, but Clabe Davenport must have been her mother’s father, because her paternal grandfather is named Joel C. Fenley. Notice the windmill at far left, and the dog at far right, and check out that buggy, which is what tells me this photo prob-ably dates to before the automobile age of the early 20th century. The Davenport Mountain west across U.S. 83, the third and highest one west that can be seen from the highway, is one my sons Dan and Tom and I climbed in the mid-1970s, I think, to see if we could glimpse Mule Mountain, don’t you know, and also Uvalde. I don’t think we saw either.

1882, Feb. 19, Robert Joseph “Buddy” Cummings, second child and first son of

JAC and MAMC, is born at a ranch on Patterson Creek, two miles from Leakey. Eighteen days before, ground is broken for a new Texas Capitol. Three weeks before, on Jan. 29, Franklin Delano Roosevelt is born at his family’s Hyde Park estate, New York, on the east side of the Hudson River, almost 150 miles north of lower Manhattan. Roosevelt will become the only United States president elected to more than two terms (elected four times). Roosevelt will lead the United States through the Great Depression and World War II, from 1933 to April 12, 1945, when he dies at age 63 of a cerebral hemorrhage at Warm Springs, Georgia, where he often went for treatment of polio (poliomyelitis), which he contracted in August 1921 at age 39. A month and a half before Buddy is born. On Jan. 2, John D. Rockefeller establishes his Standard Oil Trust to circumvent the laws

of individual states. The trust will not be broken until 1911, in a U.S. Supreme Court decision. Few Americans know it, but Rockefeller money, gotten through brutal business practices, is used, among other things, to improve the University of Chicago, the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in New York City, and ac-quire for the public lands around Jackson Hole east of the lake that borders the Grand Tetons on the east in Wyoming. Born Aug. 27 is movie-producer Samuel Goldwyn (real name: Shmuel Gelbfisz; some say he arived in 1879) in Warsaw. In 1882 Thomas A. Edison’s electrical plant lighted thousands of streetlights in New York City. In 1882 German bacteriologist Robert Koch discovers the tubercu-losis bacillus.

1885, June 5, Richard Lawrence Cummings, third child and second son of JAC

and MAMC, is born on the Annadale Ranch, later called the V-C or Johnson Ranch, about three miles from Con Can TX, two months after actor Wallace Beery is born April 1 in Kansas City, Missouri. Beery will appear in more than 100 films and will win a best-actor Oscar for 1931’s The Champ, in a tie with Frederick March’s performance in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Three months earlier, composer Jerome Kern is born on Jan. 27 in New York City. Kern will win two Oscars for best song, The Way You Look Tonight (from 1936’s Swing Time) and The Last Time I Saw Paris (from 1941’s Lady Be Good). He writes at least two better songs, Ol’ Man River and Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Kern dies in 1945. Three and a half months before Richard is born, on Feb. 21, the Washington Monument, under construction since 1848, is dedicated. This year, 1885, is the 100th anniversary of the invention of bifocal glasses by Benjamin Franklin, on May 23, 1785. In 1885 British Gen. Charles George Gordon is killed after a siege at Khartoum by Mahdi troops of a Muslim messiah claimant named Muhammad Ahmad. Also in 1885, on Jan. 4, Dr. William W. Grant

of Davenport, Iowa, performed what is believed to be the first appendectomy on 22-year-old Mary Gartside.

1885, the birth year of Robert Hutchins Goddard (d. Aug. 10, 1945) American

rocket pioneer, who successfully launched a liquid-fueled rocket in 1926. German rocket scientists such as Werhner von Braun (1912-1977) in the 1930s studied Goddard’s work (America ignored it), which helped them develop at Peeuemünde, Germany (northeast of Berlin near the Baltic Sea), the V-2 rockets that rained on England in 1944 and 1945. The “V” in V-2 stood for the English word “vengeance” (there is no German word for vengeance that begins with “v”; toward the end of World War II, Hitler focused more on vengeance than victory). By the last year of the war, Allied bombing forced the Germans to move assembly of the V-2s to mile-long tunnels near Nordhausen (central Germany). After the war, the United States brought Von Braun to America (the Russians took other German rocketry experts to the Soviet Union, where they concentrated on solid-fuel rockets, allowing the U.S.S.R. to win the race to launch the world’s first satellite, basketball-sized Sputnik I, on Oct. 4, 1957, and a much heavier Sputnik II on Nov. 3, 1957, with a dog named Laika aboard, which the Soviets claimed got poisoned with its last meal, but no one believed them. However, the solid-fuel emphasis cost the Russians the race for the moon, which America won with the liquid-fueled (see 1969) Apollo 11 on July 20, 1969). Sputnik stunned Americans (and the rest of the world) because America’s assignment in the Geophysical Year of 1957 called upon America to launch the first world’s satellite. The United States did not come close to doing that. President Eisenhower said the Soviet feat amounted to not “one iota” of importance, but he erred. Sputnik sparked a scientific revolution in America that proceeds to this day. Plus, at the time, it posed a HUGE military threat.

1888, Feb. 5, Frank Robert Cummings, fourth child and third son of JAC and

MAMC, is born on the Annadale Ranch, later called the V-C or Johnson Ranch, about three miles from Con Can TX. In this same month, the secret ballot becomes a part of the United States election system for the first time in a municipal race in Louisville KY. They call it the Australian system, or “Kangaroo voting,” because Australia started using it in 1858. The system quickly spreads across America, but South Carolina holds out until 1950. Almost a month earlier, on Jan. 12, the Great Blizzard of 1888 roared out of Canada and dropped temperatures on the high plains to 40 below zero in 56 mph winds in states like Nebraska. The blizzard reached all the way to Texas, freezing to death at least 256 people and killing tens of thousands of livestock. One newspaper in New York City noted the storm showed why people never should have tried to settle the prairie states. Just under two months later, on March 11, a mammoth blizzard struck New York City. Composer Irving Berlin (real name: Israel Baline) is born May 11 in Temun, near Siberia, Russia, and emigrates to the United States in 1893. His first big hit is 1907’s Alexander’s Ragtime Band and his 1,500 tunes include the most-recor-ded song in history, 1942’s White Christmas (a Jew writes the most popular tune ever, about Christmas!) He dies at 101 in 1989. Also born in 1888 is playwright Eugene O’Neill, who will win four Pulitzer Prizes and, in 1936, the first Nobel Prize by an American playwright, 20 years before his masterpiece, A Long Day’s Journey Into Night, is published soon after his death in 1956. On Dec. 24 in Budapest is born director Michael Curtiz, who will direct 150 films and win the Oscar as best director for 1943’s Casablanca, all-time favorite movie to many. In 1888, the winner of the popular presidential vote, President Grover Cleveland, loses the electoral vote to Benjamin Harrison. Democrat Cleveland gets 5,540,-050 votes to Republican Harrison’s 5,444,337, but Harrison wins the Electoral College 233-168. This is the third time in American history (the others: 1824 and 1876) this happens. Cleveland will win another term in 1892. In 1888 Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh paints Sunflowers.

1889, April 20, birth of Austrian Adolph Hitler (or, as Winston Churchill often

referred to him, Herr Schicklgruber, apparently a reference to Hitler’s alleged Jewish forebears or regarding an allegation of illegitimacy in Hitler’s background. In the first volume of his massive 1998 two-volume biography of the German dictator, Hitler: 1889-1936: Hubris, Ian Kershaw refuted the Jewish ancestry charge on pp. 8-9.

1889, May 31, Johnstown Flood. After heavy rains, an upstream earth-filled-dam

collapsed, sending a 75-foot-high wall of reservoir water into Johnstown in southwest Pennsylvania, killing 2,209 people. As with the later Hurricane disaster at Galveston on Sept. 8, 1900, Clara Barton, who achieved fame as the “Angel of the Battlefield” in the Civil War, showed up at Johnstown days later to help. Barton became a sort of “Have Fund-Raising-Name and Will Travel” do-gooder (good for her). Whether true of not, a journalistic story of some humor grew out of this flood. Supposedly, a major-city newspaper editor (in Philadel-phia?) dispatched a reporter to Johnstown. The reporter wired back a story with a leading paragraph reading approximately as follows: “God sat on a hillside today and watched floodwaters wash Johnstown away.” The editor supposedly wired back: “Forget flood. Get personal interview with God.”



Robert Henry “Sarge” Cummings (left) (b. 1861, d. 1923). Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer Heard (right). Each photo taken about 1890. Sarge is about 38, Martha about 53. A copy of this photo of Martha hung in my grandmother’s bedroom in the 1914 house from before 1940 to her death in 1953. Hub probably hung this picture of his mother before he died in 1926. Sarge is the first black sheep in the family that I know of. Now, my first-cousin and artist George Nelson and I are the black sheep (and neither of us in the least dislikes that label. The woman with Sarge is Margarite Boales Johnson, who later married Sarge’s younger brother Thomas Baxter Cummings.

1890, June 4, Catherine Amelia “Kate” Cummings, fifth child and second daughter

of JAC and MAMC, is born on the Jennings Ranch, called the J.W.J. Ranch, on the Nueces River about seven miles from Campwood TX 12 days before come-dian-actor Stan Laurel (real name: Arthur Stanley Jefferson) is born on June 16 in Ulverston, England. Together with Oliver Hardy (b. 1.18.1892; d. 1957) he will be part of the most-successful comedy team in the history of film. Laurel dies in 1965. But speaking of comedy teams, the funniest of the Marx Brothers, Groucho (real name: Julius Henry Marx) is born Oct. 2 in New York City (his brothers in films, all born in NYC: Chico [Leonard], b. 3.26.86, d. 1961; Harpo [Adolph, but called Arthur] 11.21.88, d. 1964; and Zeppo [Herbert], 2.25.01, d. 1979). Groucho dies in 1977. Another brother, Gummo (b. Milton, 1893; d. 1977) left the team before it reached Broadway in 1924. Perhaps their two most uproarious movies are 1933’s Duck Soup and 1935’s A Night at the Opera, but they did several others with indelible moments of slapstick action or dialogue, including 1930’s Animal Crackers, 1931’s Monkey Business, 1932’s Horse Feathers, 1937’s A Day at the Races, 1938’s Room Service, and 1941’s The Big Store. In 1890, the U.S. Senate passes the Sherman AntiTrust Law; Congress establishes the territory of Oklahoma, which will not become a state until 1907; and Dwight David Eisenhower is born on Oct. 14 in Denison TX. Sioux medicine man Sitting Bull, who inspired the Little Bighorn victory over the 7th Cavalry George Armstrong Custer in 1876, is killed on Dec. 15 together with eight of his followers in Grand River, South Dakota, when Indian police try to arrest him.


This is near the year when Mary Elizabeth Cummings Heard sees John Nance Garner riding a mule up the Dry Frio Canyon in his campaign for Uvalde County judge. She tells this to grandson Robert Heard sometime in the mid-1940s. Grand-mother, 13 to 23 in the 1890s, could not vote even when she became 21 in 1898, because women did not get that right until 1920. Garner served as county judge 1893-1896 and later got elected three times to the Texas House of Representa-tives, in 1898, 1900 and 1902, then to the U.S. House of Representatives, also in 1902, serves as speaker of the House, 1931-33, and is twice elected vice president of the United States on a ticket with Franklin Roosevelt (1932and 1936). Garner died in Uvalde at 98 in 1967. A story told of Garner in the 1940s is that on his wedding night he stopped his buggy to unlock a gate to his place. His “friends” had smeared cow dung on the latch he needed to slip back to open the gate.


This is an appropriate place to put some of the stories about John Albert Cummings, “The Strongman of the Dry Frio Canyon.”


John stood about 6 1-1/2 and weighed around 210 pounds. Those are not the dimensions of a giant, but some guys simply get a different set of genes that make them stronger than others, just as some runners are faster than others, despite not looking very different. The muscle fibers are twisted more densely.


Sometime around 1910 or a couple of years later (he turned 60 in 1910), John Albert Cummings and son Frank (who died in the Army of the misnamed Spanish Influenza in 1918 in New York City) visited the famous Buckhorn Saloon, then located in downtown San Antonio. Frank got into an argument with another guy, and it led to a fight. Frank got the man down on the floor and gave him what my father would have called “the business.”

John reached down and lifted both (large) men in one motion. “If you’re go-ing to fight,” he barked at Frank, “fight like a man (standing up).” John and Frank left. Word got back to them that the man being whipped, a friend of the bartender, asked the barkeep why he failed to come to his aid. The bar-keep said: “Did you see the arms on that old man?”


Years earlier, in 1893, at a famous rodeo in San Angelo, John tied for first place in steer-roping (not calf-roping, as it is today). During the night some-one cut his rope halfway through. Thanks to a talk I held with Uncle Sid on April 3, 1969 (I entered this in my journal), we know the name of the man John tied with, Kerner Mays, whose horse John considered the best he ever saw. John already aged 43, but the much younger Kerner drank a lot.


At the finals the next day, John’s rope parted under pressure, but he not only possessed great strength, he emjoyed terrific agility and hand-eye coordina-tion. At full speed on his horse, John snatched out of the air the dangling, now-shorter-rope still attached to the steer, barely held enough rope to loop it around the steer’s rump, tied the other end to his saddle’s pommel (the “horn” at the front of the saddle), spurred his horse, cleared a low railing with both his quarry and his horse, pulled up abruptly to allow the horse’s strength to jerk the steer off its feet, and pounced on the steer and wrapped up all four legs.


Kerner’s try followed. He clearly enjoyed a time advantage, but his steer got up after being felled. Kerner spurred his horse, but the horse ran by the steer. Kerner “busted” the steer a second time, but again the steer got up after Kerner dismounted. Kerner jumped back on his horse and chased the fast steer back toward the grandstand, busting him a third time, but the steer was so strong Kerner never tied up its legs. John won the contest.


In Uvalde one day, probably in the 1880s, a team of horses hitched to an empty buggy ran wild down the street. Without hesitation, John intercepted them on foot, jumped in front of their heads and clamped those heads togeth-er and beat his hat over their eyes, solving that scary problem of public sa-fety. (Maybe this is where I got some of my risk-taking mentality, as well as from my dad.) One of my favorite phots of my literary hero, Mark Twain, posing with a blackman who worked for him about 30 years. It must be one of the fewest photos in which a white man posed for a photograph with a black in the 19th century. The blackman earkier performed a similar act of stopping runaway horses. Incidentally,I’v read within the past few year a book by a British scolar who said Twain is “America’s Shakespeare.” I agree with that statement.


John and a Mexican got into a quarrel one day and drew and fired at each other. One bullet went through one man’s hat and another went through the other guy’s flaring shirt or coat. That must have been a reality check for each man. No other shooting occurred. This story might go back as far as the late 1870s. Imagine. A gunfight in the Dry Frio Canyon (or at least near Leakey, where Lizzie got born in 1877). Earlier, there also occurred some running fights in the canyon with Indians. I’ve forgotten which books I read that car-ried those stories.


Perhaps the best story about John is when a manager of a professional wrestler came to the Dry Frio Canyon in the late 19th century and offered $100 in gold to any man who could stay in a ring with his wrestler for four minutes. Folks in the canyon said someone should fetch John Albert. Soon, John showed up. The manager looked John over, then decided not to allow his wrestler to fight John, simply handed over the gold.


John knew my mom, Minerva Tennessee Gulley Heard, for only about a year during courtship by my dad, John’s first grandchild, and infrequentl during their first three married years, 1917-20. When mom and dad would drive up the canyon over rugged roads (paved in the late 1940s), John al-ways gave her a great greeting from the house, yelling out a delighted, “Muh-NERVEY!” Then he’d grab her stout farm-girl’s body (5-4, 160 pounds) and swing her around. I think it’s wonderful this quote from my great-grand-father survives in my memory even though he died 10 years before I was born.

An artless, blunt, fun-loving Irishman, John suffered one weakness -- a ten-der stomach. My dad perhaps exaggerated when he said the mere sight of chicken poop could make his grandfather want to throw up. All the more reason John astounded his neighbors after a Mexican’s dead body got fished from a well, and, at the justice of the peace’s direction, John stuck one of his fingers into a bullet hole in the bloated body, just as if the sight of someone else doing such a thing normally would not have made him lose his lunch.


John often went down into Old Mexico to work on ranches for wages. I still have John’s passport with its photo of him with his square Irish jaw and pier-cing eyes. Poncho Villa’s men once captured John during the Mexican re-volution of 1910-1920 and would have shot him but for his wife’s rosary that he wore around his neck. All the Cummingses called themselves Catholics.

By unanimous consent, everyone who knew Uncle Sid as a young man con-sidered him the best natural athlete they ever saw. My Uncle Dan, four years younger than Sid, became the only one of six Hub and Lizzie sons as large as my dad. Dan starred at football for Furman (Greenville SC) until an op-posing player jammed his finger in Dan’s eye (no faceguards or even helmets in those days and blinded him in his left eye. Dan swore Sid would have been an All-America tailback if he went beyond the eighth grade in school.


An incident I did not witness involving Sid and the dipping vat (it may have happened even before I got born) told of a goat escaping from the pen be-yond the vat into an open pasture. Wearing heavy work shoes, Sid went over a gate with one hand on the top board in a single movement and chased down that goat and grabbed it within 10 yards. That’s almost like catching a jackrabbit. No wonder that old man Fred Horner of Horner Hardware in Uvalde once said in my presence in 1940 that Sid would have been an All-America tailback in the early 1920s if he’d gone beyond the eighth grade.


Once around 1946, my brother Wyatt and I followed Sid, then in his early 40s, back in the rugged country near Mule Mountain leading to Turkey Spring. Wyatt, 19, and I, at 16, thought of ourselves as being in pretty good shape. But Sid went up steep slopes like a mountain goat, and we must have looked like fish flopping around out of water. As I think back on that scene, Sid reminds me of a younger Walter Huston in the great Bogart movie, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, doing a jig in front of two younger men, one played by Bogart, neophytes at finding gold. The story behind the story of that scene is that Huston, whose son John directed the film, asked John to keep the cameras going while he improvised a scene.


Sid possessed blazing speed and more strength than one would imagine pos-sible in a man who weighed about 165 pounds. (Most of the great running backs in the early 1920s averaged that or less; indeed, my research shows most linemen averaged that or less.) Sid obviously got more than his share of the great genes from the “Strongman,” his grandfather.


Here’s another great family story I heard as a teenager in the 1940s, if not earlier. My Great-Uncle Bob Cummings (b. Feb. 19, 1882; d. Sept. 18, 1940), another son of the Strongman, took a nap one day on the ground in some woods near the family home in Leakey. He woke, but did not open his eyes, when a female mountain lion swept leaves over his body. As she left, he saw her disappear. He put a log where he napped and covered it with leaves, then hid behind a tree several yards away. When the panther return-ed, she brought two cubs with her. The mother lion backed off a few yards, then leaped upon the log savagely. She obviously waited to kill Bob until her cubs could eat with her. If this isn’t a true story, it ought to be. I saw Bob Cummings in the summer of 1940, a few weeks before he died. We drove the Dry Frio Canyon road past his red-painted house (Woodrow later re-modeled and expanded it) and waved to him on his porch drinking from a coffee cup.





From Florence Fenley’s first book, 1939, p. 86 (also on p. 166 of her book), “THE FOURTH OF JULY AT UVALDE IN 1890 -- NORTH GETTY ST. The imposing structure at left is the Opera House, built in 1890, so it is brand new here. The Opera House sits directly across from the northeast corner of the plaza. The person who took this photo stood in the middle of the street northwest of the courthouse.



John Lightfoot Gulley and his second wife, Belle Battle, who bore two sons before dying in 1895. They married Sept. 17, 1890. In many old photographs of husbands and wives, the husband is shown seated and the wife standing, as if he needed more rest, or, more likely, he ranked ahead of her, like a king and his subject.



My Great-Uncle Charlie Heard, younger brother of Wyatt Hubbard Heard, at age 16, which he turned on Aug. 20, 1891. Charlie aged 5 at the time of the greatest flood in historical times on the Dry Frio River, 1880. Photo taken from Florence Fenley’s second Oldtimers book, 1957, p. 216.

1892, Oct. 11, Henry Baylor Cummings, sixth child and fourth son of JAC and

MAMC, is born at the “Doc Clark Place” on the Dry Frio River (miles above the 1909 Heard School/Church). Comedian-actor Oliver Hardy (real name: Norvell Hardy) is born on Jan. 18 in Harlem GA. Together with Stan Laurel (b. 6.19.18-90; d. 1965) he will be part of the most-successful comedy team in the history of film. In San Francisco on June 30 is born voice-specialist Mel Blanc (full name: Melvin Jerome Blanc) who will furnish the voices for 3,000 cartoons, including Bugs Bunny’s “What’s up, Doc?” Porky Pig’s “Th-th-th-that’s all, f-f-f-folks!” and the canary’s “I tawt I tawt I saw a puddy cat.” Blanc dies in 1989. On Aug. 2 in London, Ontario, Canada, is born Jack L. Warner, the last of 12 children of Jewish immigrants from Poland. Warner will become one of the giants as a film ex-ecutive in Hollywood. He and three older brothers, Harry, Albert and Sam, form Warner Bros. Films he personally produced include 1964’s My Fair Lady 1967’s Camelot, and 1972’s 1776. Warner dies in 1981. In 1892 Ellis Island becomes the “golden door” through which foreigners enter the United States at New York City; Charles E. Duryea of Springfield MA perfects the first American automo-bile, which will have its first public run in 1893; President Benjamin Harrison opens another 3 million acres of Indian lands in Oklahoma and 1.8 million acres of Indian lands in Montana to white settlers (the first Oklahoma land rush, for 2 million acres, occurs April 22, 1889); Fig Newtons are invented; and Italy raises the minimum marriage age for girls to 12. On Nov. 8, 1892, Grover Cleveland

is elected to his second, nonconsecutive term as president, partly in reaction to the crushing in July of the union in Andrew Carnegia’s Homestead PA steel plant by plant manager Henry Clay Frick, who with Carnegia’s blessing uses 300 Pin-kerton thugs, followed by Gov. Robert E. Pattison’s sending in the state militia. Actor-singer Eddie Cantor (real name Edward Israel Iskowitz) is born of Russian immigrants on the Lower East Side of New York City on Jan. 31. He will win a special Oscar in 1956 for “distinguished service to the film industry.” He dies in 19-62. Gravelly voiced comedian Jimmy (“Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are”) Durante is born four months after Henry, on Feb. 10, 1893, in New York City. He dies in 1980.

1893, birth year of Mao Tse-tung (Mao Zedong in China), who will lead Chinese

communist rebels on “The Long March” in 1926 to northwest China to avoid Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist army. Mao will rule the one billion Chinese for almost 30 years, from 1949, when he defeats Chiang and forces him to flee to Formosa, until his death in 1976.


Hub and Lizzie Heard, as they appeared at about the time they eloped up the canyon Oct. 13, 1895. These photos appear on the annual Heard newsletter written by John and Arvie’s grandson Jerald Corder. As the King of Siam would say, this elopement “is a puzzlement.” She aged 18 and he 28. Why elope? I will hazard this guess (which may not heft any weight): This is a Romeo and Juliet story, except one of the families lost, or nearly lost by this time, its connection to its church. Hub came from roots in Anglican Northern Ireland, while Lizzie’s family traced back to Catholics in Southern Ireland. Per-haps they feared John Albert and Mary Ana Cummings would disapprove of her marrying a non-Catholic. Or Pike and Martha Heard may have objected to Hub’s marrying a Catholic. The nearest Roman Catholic church to the Dry Frio Canyon in the 1890s probably sat in Castroville, and the Cummings faithful felt forced to participate in Protestant services held in homes in the canyon. The canyon’s Baptist Church got built in 1909, and it held services in homes until the Heard School/Church got built in 1909.

1895, Oct. 13, Wyatt Hubbard Heard and Mary Elizabeth Cummings marry

four months after President Grover Cleveland in a speech June 12 to the nation distributed by newspapers asks U.S. citizens not to give aid to rebels fighting the Spanish in Cuba, but the “Yellow Press” of Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst, and individuals like Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge, fan the flames of imperialism, helping start the Spanish-American War in 1898. Born on Feb. 6 in Baltimore is George Herman “Babe” Ruth (his birth-certificate date; he always claims Feb. 7, 1896); who becomes one of the best and certainly the most famous baseball players of all time. In a 22-year career, Ruth hits 60 home runs in one season (1927) and 714 in his career. The real test of an ath-lete’s record(s) is how it (they) compare with others of his era. No one came with-in 300 (maybe 400) home runs at the time Babe hung them up. What other worlds remained for him to conquer? His season record stands 34 years, until Roger Maris slugs 61 in 1961, a season eight games longer. The career record lasts until the Atlanta Braves’ Hank Aaron breaks it against the Los Angeles Dodgers on April 8, 1974, Aaron’s 21st season, and Aaron plays two more years and finishes with 755. Aaron enjoys far more at-bats than Ruth, but he also played night games, which Ruth did not. Ruth’s record for slugging percentage, .690, still stood in2001.

Five months before Hub and Mary marry, actor Rudolph Valentino (real name: Rodolfo Alfonzo Raffaele Pierre Philibert Guglielmi) is born on May 6 in Castel-laneta, Italy. Valentino will become Hollywood’s No. 1 male heartthrob in the era of silent films. He dies in 1926. Seven days before Hub and Lizzie marry, on Oct. 2, film comedian Bud Abbott (of Abbott and Costello) is born in Asbury Park NJ. Costello is the straight man of the duo. Nine months before that, movie- director John Ford (real name: Sean Aloysius O’Feeney or O’Fearna) is born on Feb. 1 in Cape Elizabeth ME. He specializes in Westerns and uses Arizona’s Monument Val-ley as backdrop for nine of his films. He wins four Oscars (plus two more for World War IIdocumentaries), including The Grapes of Wrath and How Green Was My Valley. Ford dies in 1973. Lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II is born on July 12 in New York City. He will be best known for his lyrics to Ol’ Man River, and, teaming with composer Richard Rodgers (b. 6.28.1902, also in New York City), wins Oscars for 1941’s The Last Time I Saw Paris, (film: Lady Be Good) and 1945’s It Might As Well Be Spring (film State Fair). In 1895 Irish author Oscar Wilde writes The Importance of Being Earnest, and German physicist Wilhelm Konrad von Röntgen discovers X-rays.



A scene in the Dry Frio River probably taken within 10 years (either way) of 1900. This might show re-sidents before or after Sunday baptism. Note the wo-men (and to a lesser extent the men) seemed dressed in Sunday’s finest.


This is an appropriate place to summarize a few of the long interviews in Florence Fenley’s two books.







The image of the hardcover of Florence Fenley’s first book on Oldtimers of Southwest Texas, published in 1939 by The Hornby Press, Uvalde, Texas. A smaller-in-size book than Fenley’s 1957 second volume, it contains 234 pages. If you can find a copy of either of Fenley’s books, buy it.




The first couple of pages in Fenley’s 1939 book. Notice Uvalde (with Sabinal, Con-can, Cline, Laguna, Montell, Utopia, and Reagan Wells) is in the middle of the counties covered, which include Edwards (with Rocksprings and Barksdale), Real (with Lea-key and Camp Wood), Kinney (with Brackettville but not quite to Del Rio), Medina (with Castroville, Hondo and D’Hanis), Maverick (with Eagle Pass), Zavala (with Batesville and La Pryor), and Dimmit (with Carrizo Springs; one county west of La Salle County, with Cotulla, where Lyndon Johnson taught mostly poor Mexican-American kids when he was a young man, and which experiences influenced his Civil Rights Bills in 1964 and 1965, and his War on Poverty in 1966). The reader should be told that Harry P. Hornby Jr., whose father started the (combined) Uvalde Leader-News in 1898, called me more than once when I worked for the Associated Press in Austin in the 1970s and pleaded with me to come to Uvalde and write a series of stories on how Mexican-Americans verged on taking control of Uvalde. It would win me a Pulitzer Prize, he said. Hornby assumed I agreed with his fear, which I did not. I opposed Lyndon Johnson regarding the civil war in Vietnam and the man-ner in which he treated his staff, but I supported his domestic programs that included civil rights for Mexican-Americans. Mexico once owned Texas. Now that Anglos have built a civilization, Mexicans come across the border for mostly menial jobs, much as Palestinians do in Israel.



Speaking of the Leader-News, I remember a Marie Heard who wrote “snake stories” for that paper. I think she might be kin to me, but I never learned how.



From her 1939 Oldtimers book, p. A-8. Fenley wrote about her grandfather, Joel C. Fenley, only in her Foreword to the book. Her grandfather reached Sabinal Canyon (Utopia) in 1852, only a few months after John C. Ware and his wife Elizabeth Fenley Ware settled the Sabinal Canyon that year, first buil-ding Waresville Fort (or Fort Ware). The Sabinal Canyon and all the other canyons in either direction in those days held much wildlife, including bears (which produced wonderful grease for making things like biscuits; one could eat as much bear “oil” as one cared to and not get sick -- Fenley, 1939, p. 27), panthers, wolves, coyotes, foxes, deer, elk, probably some antelope, which still roam the Trans Pecos, a few jaguars (p. 43, where A.J. Hale captured and tamed “a leopard cat” (probably a jaguar, still found in Mexico), which later, with claws trimmed, lost a fight to a bobcat), bobcats, some buffalo, turkeys, doves, quail, raccoons, javelins, feral hogs, squirrels, possums, armadillos, bats, and lots of snakes, especially rattlers. Plus ducks (at least in the brush country below Uvalde), honeybees and catfish, bass and perch in the rivers.


Fenley and my father, Dow H. Heard Sr., went to Uvalde High School to-gether in 1917.


Those of you who have seen the area around Utopia know its canyon, the Sab-inal, is much wider than the Dry Frio Canyon, and beautiful -- thus the name Utopia. Fenley’s grandfather later moved to Zavala County and managed his spread there, called “Muela Ranch,” but pronounced “Murlo” (Muela means flat-topped hill or grindstone). Fenley says of an early day riding with her grand-father, p. 2 of her 1939 book, they stopped to get a drink of water. “Down on my knees, I drank from muddy waterholes when we came across them on hot, sizzling days. And once when I hesitated because of coyote tracks in the wa-ter’s edge, his scornful ‘[P]shaw!’ withered me . . . I’ll always admire men like him, men wrestling with the elements and hidden dangers, men in the saddle more days than not, men honest, fearless, high tempered, intolerant of vices, quick and deadly on the draw, men inclined to be hard masters not merely for others but for themselves as well. It’s men of that sort who have made Texas what it is and who can hereafter achieve a thrilling destiny for it.” Fenley did not write well, but what I have just quoted is about as good as one could write that information. Then there is this from later on the same page, she talks about paying tribute to “those who ‘with the West in their eyes,’ gaze wistfully at the phantom herds and their riders in the distance. There drifts back to me the low whistle and the songs of their comrades, and the bawling of cattle on the trail.” Although no Shakespeare or Twain or like any of the greats, Fenley did the spadework on oldtimers in our home area of Texas that puts all of us in her debt, me especially. What if she did not do that? All those pioneer stories would now be lost. Most people won’t read her now. Her individual articles are a couple or three pages long, and that’s OK, but a book of them looks daunting.

A trio of family members offered a $50 book on Heard genealogy in June 2005, and they mention Fenley, but it is obvious none of them read her. I did. She made it possible for a guy like me to come along more than half a century later and mine her work for nuggets that modern readers not only will enjoy but can make use of in their understanding of the Southwest Texas culture that ex-pired early in the 20th century. Mainly, she let the oldtimers speak for them-selves, poor grammar and all.


If they read her, they would know there are many references to the Dry Frio, several references to the Heards and some to the Cummingses. But then they might not have known how to handle them, none of that trio being a professional writer, or even a writer.


Many of her interviews refer to “Negroes” (one interview is even of a black pioneer, Ben Kinchlow, p. 133, albeit he counted three-quarters “white”), and that is helpful if only to disabuse modern readers from thinking Hollywood got it right promoting the idea that only John Waynes peopled the west. And the few blacks Hollywood shows usually are cooks. For example, on pp. 122-123 of her first (1939) book, Fenley quotes pioneer S.H. Blalack, 80 years old when she interviewed him in the 1930s (probably born in 1858), as saying, “Speaking of good cowhands, I had a Negro hand by the name of John Johnson and I know that no better cowhand than John was ever born . . . He could trail like a dog. He had the best eyes I ever saw in a human’s head. He would trail a brute all day long till he got him. He was simply the best cowman I ever worked with.” Blalack said he hadn’t seen Johnson in 20 years, but “I sure would like to see him now.” Here’s betting that even the descendants of John Johnson (a common name that would be difficult to trace in genealogies) know of this reference to their forebear. And even this does not credit the work contributed by black women.


Some oldtimers revealed racial prejudice, like W.S. Wall (p. 160), who said he could “beat any nigger that ever came out of the piney woods driving steers.” Wall claimed an accuracy with a whip that could knock a horsefly off a steer “with the first pop” (presumably without harming the steer).


Nor did Blalack suffer from the romanticism many saw in the early days of Southwest Texas. “I wouldn’t like to live those days again. We went through too much. Oh, we had lots of fun, but most people don’t know anything about how we lived those days or worked either.” He noted cowhands held many “kangaroo” courts. Such as the one for Martin Padilla, whom all the others wanted to whip. “ . . . we tried him for something and put the leggings on him. We laid him down and we sure poured it on him. After we got through, he asked us if he had had his whipping and we were satisfied about it. We told him yes and the devil got up and pulled a big, old coat out of his pants that he had stuffed down in them, knowing we were going to whip him. Those whippings hurt, I tell you” (p. 123). Kangaroo courts are mentioned again on p. 159, again with “putting the leggin’s on” the man “convicted,” without being clear about what that meant. Florence apparently included Blalack among those who did not miss the old days when she wrote on p. 161, “ . . . few are they who do not mourn for the old days.”


Modern readers struggle with oldtimers’ tales because, with no radio, TV or even movies, or national franchises for football, basketball and baseball, simpler things entertained them (church revivals, dances, ice-cream parties -- after hail-storms). “Dances” brings up a riddle. Many oldtimers spoke of them and how people would come from 15 and 20 miles away to attend them. Indeed, dancing is mentioned more often than attending church or going to camp meetings (revi-vals). All kinds of dances -- square, waltzes, polka, two-step, and “Harvard Caprice.” P. 107 of the 1957 books. And they would dance all night and until daylight the next day. Mrs. Claudia Hobbs Davis, born in 1872, says on p. 48 of the 1957 book, “[T]he Heard boys were all good dancers.” But Texas mainly was Baptist country in the early and mid-20th century, and at that time Baptists thought dancing a sin. When did that change? Sometime apparently be-tween the late 19th century and the early 20th. Dances allowed the sexes to meet and interact. Sex is stronger than religion, and that’s why religion seeks to con-trol sex. If you control a person’s sex and money (including tithes), you control that person.


Mrs. Amanda Moore, born in 1869, became a teacher, and started that ca-reer “at Heard, across the mountains [from Leakey], a little above Reagan Wel-ls,” p. 99 in the 1957 book. So Moore taught many of our kinfolk. She also says on p. 98 that “Wyatt Heard [Hub? Maybe not, because Hub is men-tioned by that name two pages later] as one of the judges (of a dance competi-tion)” and that he called it a hard job because “there were so many good dan-cers.” Moore boarded with “Lynn and Wyatt Heard’s mother, who lived there, and no girl ever had the privilege of living in a lovelier home, especially

on her first year away from her own folks.” This writer holds the clipping from the Uvalde newspaper with the interview with Moore, dated Aug. 3, 1953 (a couple of months after I took several color photos of the last Heard Reunion at Heard Spring). Moore aged 80 at the time of the interview. I’m guessing the mother of Wyatt and Lynn must have been the mother of Wyatt and Leon. Moore also says, “Hub was full of fun and wit and was always welcome in any group, for there wasn’t a dull minute if he were along,” also on p. 99. Don’t know about you, but this is the first time I heard that Hub entertained people merely with his presence. My elder son Dan drew people to him like that be-fore schizophrenia seized him in 1980 at age 24. Dan won first chair as the trumpet player in the renowned Austin Westlake High School Band in the eighth grade. Later, in high school, the band traveled by bus to football games away, and when boarding the bus, other band members clamored to sit near him to enjoy his wit.



Amanda Bell about the time she taught school in the late 1880s at “Heard . . . a little above Reagan Wells. Photo from p. 98 of Florence Fenley’s 1957 book on Oldtimers of Southwest Texas.




Mrs. Amanda Bell Moore near the time Fen-ley interviewed her in Au-gust 1953. Photo from p. 98 of Florence Fenley’s 1957 book on Oldtimers of Southwest Texas.


Stampedes became huge events in their lives. The simple striking of a match in the right weather conditions could start one. Cowboys lit their cigarettes under their jackets to avoid this (p. 159 in the 1939 book). Or one steer’s snort could do it (p. 159). Or a horse shaking itself (p. 110). A quaint expression for the start of a stampede appears on p. 40 after a boy wearing a slicker popped it like the crack of a rifle: “The cattle was gone.” If one feel he or she must use a passiverb lik “was,” this is how to do it. In one tale (p. 34 of Fenley’s first book) J.H. Thompson recalls a pouring rain when he did not have his slicker, and his buddy Ed Bell wore his and “hurrahed” Thompson until Thompson rode up behind him, grabbed one of the tails of Bell’s slicker and ripped an entire half of the slicker off Bell. You’ll learn on p. 43 that panthers do scream, “like a woman.” How being whipped with a cowtail constituted one of the worst punishments (p. 29). How man often showed more concern over the health of a horse than of a rider (p. 34). How the widow of Oscar Taylor (“O.T.”) Caldwell, who bore six children, adopted 13 more whose parents died “of grief or hardships” (p. 49).


If you are inclined to think “red-state hatred of government” started in the 20th century, check out this from pp. 194-195 in Fenley’s first book. A.P. (Ab) Blocker, born in Austin Jan 30, 1856, recalled for Fenley driving herds of cattle north in 1877, ’78, ‘82, ’83, ‘84, ’86, and ’91. On the first drive, in 1877, he remembered some men rode into his camp “with a bunch of horses” and asked the cook for grub. The cook, “one of the best cooks that ever let down a chuck box,” asked where they got the horses. None of his business, they said. So the cook declined to fix food for them. Finally, they said they stole the horses “from Caddo Indians last night.” The cook fed them, saying, “Any-body can get somethin’ to eat from me if they take anything from the Indians or the government.” The cook obviously did not know he constituted part of the government, together with his companions and all other Texans (and all Ameri-cans, if he spoke of the federal government), through the candidates they elec-ted, albeit those candidates felt more beholden to rich guys who gave them campaign money.


From Blocker, p. 197 in Fenley’s first book, 1939, we recapture a quote you probably heard before, but this shows how far back it goes: “Once I was talking to him about a feller and I said ‘damn ‘im,’ and Frank says, ‘Yes, and damn the man that wouldn’t damn ‘im and damn the man that wouldn’t burn up his shirt on his back to make a light at midnight to see how to damn ‘im!’”


Speaking of parties, A.J. Hale, who settled on the Frio River, told Fenley (1939, p. 45) of “some of the best fish-frys” being held soon after 1900 by “the Heards and Cummings[es]” [up on the Dry Frio.] The fish fries referred to occurred between 1900 and 1909, before the last two of the original children to survive, Emma or Maggie, got born. So you won’t find that in the $50 Heard genealogy. Nor do I remember Grandmother Heard telling me about those fish fries in the 1940s. The only thing grandmother told me about fish is

the reason she refused to eat them -- she got a fish bone stuck in her throat as a girl and promised God she’d never eat fish again if he let her survive that one.


A side story to that is that I caught a bass about 1-1/2 to 2 pounds in the Dry Frio sometime in the mid-to-late 1940s, probably 1946 (at age 16), and the closest house tome sat only half a mile from the fishing hole, Uncle Sid’s and Aunt Mary’s. To my grandmother’s later great chagrin, I took that fish to Sid and Mary’s, found nobody home, went in and used Aunt Mary’s steel sink to clean that fish. I doubt this callow youth did a good job cleaning up the mess he made, and when I told grandmother what I did, she winced, I’m sure. Turned out, unknown to me, grandmother and Aunt Mary did not get along well in that period (maybe any period), and here I sat, grandmother’s charge, messing up Aunt Mary’s sink. Grandmother did cook the fish for me and watched me eat it, but because of her long-ago pledge to God did not eat a bite herself.


Hale (born in 1856 and 85 when Fenley interviewed him in 1935) also says he moved from the Frio to a site three miles north of Uvalde on the East Nueces in 1909, and named his last child Beulah, who married a man named Whitecot-ton. That tells me how Whitecotton Peaks, west of the East Nueces, got its name. My journal tells me I climbed that high hill, with two peaks 100 or 200 yards apart, on Nov. 10, 1972. Earlier, I climbed many prominent hills west and southwest of Mule Mountain in an effort to better fix Muley geographically in my mind (these included Boiling Mountain on Dolph Briscoe’s Red Shed Ranch on the Kinney-Uvalde county line west of the East Nueces (Aug. 11, 1972), Salmon Peak (Nov.9, 1972) in Kinney County, and the hill above the Alamo Village north of Brackettville; I got permission from Briscoe to climb Boiling after he told me he always wanted to climb it. If you really want to climb a hill, you make time.


Speaking of women, Uvalde-founder Reading Wood Black’s daughter, Mary Black Nunn, told Fenley (1939, p. 113) what the culture of the oldtimers expected of females: “ . . . they had to be ladies mind you, and ladies should know how to hide their emotions, pretend to be unconcerned even though their hearts broke! They should be aristocratic, well poised, well dressed -- and quiet. They wore tight little basques [tight-fitting outer garments above the waist] so small at the waist they had to breathe delicately, and they wore tight little slippers, that fairly paralyzed their feet.” We still have women whose minds are imprisoned by these ideas -- we call them “Pink Ladies” -- but the rest of you have come a long way, baby.


On p. 62 of the 1957 book, Ed Davenport, born in 1853, says he always doubted stories about rattlesnake bites curing rheumatism until a small one (two or three feet long) bit him on the hand as he stooped in a plowed field to see if his corn crop would soon appear. He lived in the old Binnion home on a ridge above Leakey in the early 1890s. A doctor in Leakey cut off a tourniquet, lanced the bites and applied “some medicine” to them. “It didn’t bother me so very much, except it puffed up under my arm and had to be lanced. The poison that came out of there was perfectly green, and it had to be lanced two or three more times.” In all, Davenport said he killed 27 rattlesnakes. He also killed 1,5-12 deer, and recorded them all. He killed a rattler in his house after jumping out of bed to light a lamp and check on his baby daughter’s crying. The moment his feet hit the floor, “I heard a snake sing [rattle].” He jumped back in bed until he could learn the snake’s whereabouts. After determining it lay under the bed, he told his wife to cover up her head and hold her hands over the baby’s ears [Lucille, their first of three children, the later ones being boys, Jack and Clyde]. He lit the lamp and shot the snake. “I never could believe a snake bite could be good for anything but pain . . . I had something like arthritis before that [the snakebite in the field] happened, but never had it any more.”


For a rare example of a woman “swearing,” check out the next paragraph.

Before we leave “proper” behavior for women in the old days, I must include this anecdote from Fenley’s second book (1957), p. 109. In an interview with Mrs. Grace Loman, we learn that her mother Sallie Johnson, Charlie Johnson’s wife, followed a religious code so narrow she “never even used slang expressions and she never forgot her prayers.” Before they came to Uvalde, they lived in Bell County (it seems many immigrants to Texas who ended up in Uvalde stopped first in Bell County, including Pike Heard and his older brother Augustin). On the road to Bell County one day, they crossed a creek, and the wagon hit a big stump on the other side. The wagon came close to overturning. Charlie later claimed that Sallie shouted, “Damn those oxen!” But thereafter Charlie never could get Sallie to admit she said that. When he first recalled she said that, on down the road that day, “[she] was speechless, and [then] she said over and over, that she never said such a thing in her life and she knew she did-n’t then! My father laughed every time he thought about it, but he couldn’t make her believe she actually said it.” People often fall into denial when confronted with something they said that they never wished to.

On the other hand, men in the 19th century not only expected other men to swear (but not in the presence of “ladies”), it marked a manly man if he could swear several minutes without repeating himself.


You’ll learn on p. 6 (1939 book) that pioneers in Texas did without coffee (then considered as essential as most of us think of beer, wine or whiskey today) dur-ing the Civil War because “the Northern people had it all tied up.” Incidentally, whiskey cost “fifty cents a quart” in the late 1850s, before the Civil War, but I wonder about its smoothness (p. 215).


Trail drivers got so tired they hoped to “get one or two-hundred yards before falling down and going to sleep” (p. 21). Cowmen swore “to kill anybody who ever came into their range with sheep” (p. 22). But (same page) a drover of sheep talked his way out of being killed by cowboys by talking about Jules Verne’s book about a trip to the moon and how the drover accompanied Verne (1828-1905) on that trip. The cowboys decided he was crazy and let him be. And a Mexican-Indian in the 1870s survived 14 arrow wounds and lived to be at least 109 (p. 26). A man killed a charging bear by dropping “my Winchester in his mouth” and firing (p. 27). You can read about a lack of racial prejudice on p. 52 when a “Mr. Wells” asked what caused a stampede of his cattle, and his longtime “Negro” worker confessed he roped an old five-gallon can on the side of a road and tossed it among the lethargic cattle to get a herd to move. Wells said, “You black devil, you, if it had been any other man in that outfit, I would fire him.” Wells then turned and rode off. On. page 164, we learn the country contained so many bears one could see them moving on a moun-tainside.


On p. 59, you learn that Uvalde in 1884 featured wooden sidewalks just like the sidewalks in Hollywood movies about that era of the West. On p. 60 men without water for five days west of the Pecos River “killed a beef, drinking its blood so ravenously from the slit throat that never a drop touched the ground.”


Men (and women) gambled more in those days. Not talking money gambling here. A guy gambled each day he would not get into a fight with another man

as fiercely independent as he and have to shoot it out. Before 1883, a man gambled that Indians would not kill his family or steal his horses. When a man farmed or ranched, he gambled on the weather. Would he get the right amount of rainfall at the right time? Probably not. Would hail destroy his crop? Or boll weevils? Did he have river water for livestock if he got no rain? He even gam-bled on whether he knew enough about seeds and plowing and the correct sea-sons of the year to plow and plant. He gambled on the price he could get for cattle, for crops or for wool and mohair. Like today’s man, who hesitates to ask anyone for directions, men then seldom asked about things other people, includ-ing his own family, assumed he knew. Women gambled that disease would not kill their babies, or Indians their men. They gambled that the man they married would not turn out to be a wife-beater, as many of them did.


Not until a few years ago did I realize mohair automatically meant good money for my uncles in the 1940s because the federal government subsidized mohair.


People today are spoiled by pavement (my dad’s slogan on election day: Vote for pavement) and don’t know about muddy places on a prairie that stuck pio-neer wagons. Those early day travelers unhitched their oxen from wagons (or horses from buggies) so they could feed while prairies dried out, sometimes waiting a week or 10 days (p. 66). The Dry Frio Canyon Road did not get pa-ved until the late 1940s.


The Texas canyon country, where rivers carved out hills from the Edwards Pla-teau as the land dropped more than a thousand feet to the brush country to the south, begins with lots of trees in the canyons near San Antonio and fewer and fewer trees as one goes west, ending with almost none beyond the West Nu-eces in the Devil’s River area and on to the Rio Grande. The canyon country is an east-west band averaging 20 miles wide. Incidentally, the L.C. “Clabe” Davenport log cabin (not Clabe’s later two-story home I scanned from Fenley’s 1939 book from the early 1880s (p. 252) that the first Why Stop? book on historical sites in Texas fails to say a log cabin on the Dolph Briscoe Jr. residence property on the Dry Frio got to the Briscoe place only after Briscoe paid for it and got it moved. Guess Dolph wanted to add a patina of earlier Canyon history to his family, even though it is a fake history. The cabin rested originally on the Rev. Will Nelson property.


Fenley sometimes can pique one’s curiosity without elaboration. She begins a piece on her grandfather and grandmother, Joel and Mrs. Fenley, at their ranch in Zavala County, immediately south of Uvalde County. Name of the earlier community where the ranch sat: La Muela, which they promptly cor-rupted into a ranch named “Murlo,” sort of like Uvaldeans pronouncing their county seat Uvalde instead of oo-VAHL-dee. La Muela in Spanish is a fem-inine noun that means “grindstone,” “millstone” or “flat-topped hill.” My mon-ey’s on grindstone. But earlier, on p. 163, she talks about three large groups of cowboys, about 75 each, rounding up cattle in the early 1880s on the Nueces, or the Sabinal and south of Uvalde (around the Murlo), then all meeting at a predetermined site. One of the cowboys she mentions working around the Murlo is named Jap Heard. Who the devil is that? Someone related to Pike?


William Augustus Bowles, born in Mississippi in 1848, says on p. 13 of the 1939 book, “Men were being killed in Uvalde all the time, and if a sheriff didn’t resign, he was killed or run off.” That seconds like what Emma Kelly Davenport said above (p. 90).


W.H. Davis says on p. 27 (1939 book) he once killed a charging bear by dropping “the end of my Winchester in his mouth” and firing.


J.H. Thompson says on p. 29 that boys as young as eight rode horses, wor-king as cowboys.


Ed Bell, born in 1859, is quoted on p. 71 of the 1939 book as saying he coun-ted 32 fights with Indians he’d been in. And how many times did he run? “Thirty-two.”


Fenley herself sometimes refers to blacks as “darkies,” as she does on p. 133 in an interview with Ben Kinchlow, born in 1846 and 92 years old at the time of the interview in 1938. Kinchlow is “[o]nly a quarter-strain of African blood,” so one of his grandparents counted as black. Although another oldtimer says In-dians feared the “white man” but “hated” the black man and would kill him quic-kly, Kinchlow says “they was dirt done that the Indians didn’t do!” He meant people other than Indians did bad things. He also said, “The Mexkin women used {knives] when they followed the soldiers into battle. They come right be-hind the troops an’ durin’ gun fire, the women ransacked the houses and were as dangerous as the men when they used them tranchetes.” Kinchlow went up the Chisolm Trail “five or six times.” He said cattle could “scent” water five miles away. Some thought the best meat they ever tasted came from a buffalo’s hump. One learns that Brackettville in the mid-19th century went by the name Brackett. Same for Concan, which oldtimers referred to as Con Can. Louis H. Knippa recalled on his golden wedding anniversary (with the former Mary Louise Unlang), “We didn’t know anything about Santa Claus, for our parents told us it was the Christ child and it was because He was born on that day that we observed it,” p. 43 of the 1957 book.


A “Jesse Heard” is mentioned on p. 65 of the 1957 book, but I don’t know who that to be.


Several of the oldtimers spoke of terrible blizzards and prolonged droughts. Some spoke of how Indians would shoe their horses with rawhide, using a drawstring to tied the hide to a horse’s foot. Robert L. Anderson, born in 1864, recalled a storm that blew “every windmill” down, p. 170 of the 1939 book. Women who rode horses, and many did as well as a man, rode side-saddle. The first telephones that came to Uvalde in 1882 required a caller to “knock on it like knocking on a door, then the person on the other end an-swered the knock,” p. 243, 1957 book. Many speak of how many coyotes inhabited the country. In prolonged dry periods, coyotes would become rabid. One spoke of killing three panthers treed by dogs in one night. And it becomes clear we don’t see many rattlesnakes because the pioneers killed so many. Not all of the stories are based in Southwest Texas. Lots of them begin all over Tex-as and elsewhere, then wind up in Uvalde or a nearby county.


Will Slade, born in Waco in 1882, says on p. 207 of the 1957 book that he roomed with Will Rogers at the Kemper Military Academy in Boonville, Mis-souri, in about 1888 or 1889. In later years, when Rogers visited him, Slade asked how he got famous, and Rogers replied, “You know, Will, I’m supposed to be a comedian, and I sure get by with lots of stuff I didn’t intend to be funny. If I pick up the wrong fork or do something else wrong, people think I’m just being funny and laugh, when the truth is, I don’t know any better.”


Mrs. Della Graham, born in 1872 (the same year as Hub Heard), recalled on p. 210 when a rattlesnake bit her little brother George on top of his bare foot. Their father grabbed George and carried him to the house, cut open a chicken and stuck George’s foot in it. George kept screaming, so the father cut open another chieken. It did not good. The father jumped on his horse, roped a sheep and killed it, took out “the paunch” and stuck George’s foot in the paunch. And “it eased the pain right off. In no time, he wasn’t crying any more and his foot was easy.” They “knew” the paunch drew out the poison. The next morning “all the redness was gone and most of the swelling. His foot was white and the skin wrinkled on it, and from that time on, he didn’t have any trouble with it.”


George A. Park, born in 1879, recalled on p. 222 of the 1957 book that two men, one of them Mont Woodward, worked in Frio County “in the ‘70s” and saw a man riding hard toward them. The man on horseback sought the other, younger man, who shouted, “Hello, Frank!” The rider pulled out his pistol and “began pumping lead into the young man.” The rider turned out to be Frank James, Park said. Woodward began running. Park quoted him as saying, “If that fellow Frank had shot one more time, I’d have jumped into the creek!” “The James boys were known to have come into Frio County, and ‘Frank’ was said by others to have been to Frio Town a couple of days prior to the shooting.” Park never learned what the slain man did, but figured “whatever it was, Frank must have thought it was pretty serious.” In the old days, they called what became Pearsall in 1883 “Frio Town.”


One of the funniest stories in the 1957 book, on p. 298, is told by Jesse H. Denmark, born in 1873, who talked about putting up sausage in rings [made of hog guts, no doubt] as big (around) as wash tubs. “I remember once that my cousin, Mamie Glover, and a girl friend of hers was staying all night at our house one cold, winter night, and went to a dance with their boy friends. While they were gone to the dance, Pa went out to the smoke house and got one of those sausage rings, and put in them girls’ bed, down at the foot under the cover. When the girls come home and undressed for bed, the visiting girl hit the bed first, and stuck her feet right down there in the middle of that sausage ring, and of all the screaming that took place, and did she come out of there! She naturally thought it to be a snake, for Pa had it all curled around and it would have scared anybody.” Denmark also talks on p. 300 about a pumpkin 24 inches in diameter. On p. 297 of the 1957 book you’ll find a photo of a barbeque stand with and “Orange Crush” sign on the front. That reminds me of another popular soft drink, with a purple liquid, more than half a century ago, Grape Nehigh. On p. 191 of the 1957 book we learn of a cypress tree that measured 18 feet in diameter through its base (56.55 feet in circumference). Not from Fenley’s books but from elsewhere in my 100 or so books on the American Indian, I learned some Indians called horses “magic dogs” when they first encountered them.

In the 1880s the town of Brackett (later Brackettville) boasted 15 saloons and from 50 to 75 porfessional gamblers (p. 188, 1939 book), who made good jur-ors in criminal prosecution cases, convicting 14 of 17 men accused of murder on railroad trains.



From Florence Fenley’s first book on Oldtimers, 1939, p. A-7, when Garner still served as vice president under Franklin Delano Roosevelt.





John Nance Garner, about the time Grand-mother Lizzie Heard saw him riding a mule up the Dry Frio Canyon hustling votes.


1896, Nov. 7, Dow Hubbard Heard Sr., first child of WHH and MECH, is born near Reagan Wells TX three weeks after delicate movie-and-stage actress Lillian Gish is born on Oct. 14 in Springfield OH, widely recognized as “The First Lady of the Silent Screen,” but she also acts in movies as late as 1987’s The Whales of August, at age 91, and probably is best remembered as a sound-movie actress for 1946’s Duel in the Sun, with Gregory Peck, Jennifer Jones, Lionel Barrymore, and Joseph Cotten, or as wags in Hollywood liked to call this effort at a Western Gone With the Wind, Lust in the Dust. Gish receives a life-achievement Oscar in 1970. She dies in 1993. Actress Ruth Gordon (real name: Ruth Gordon Jones) is born Oct. 30 in Wollaston (Quincy) MA. She wins an Oscar in her role as a Manhattan witch in 1968’s Rosemary’s Baby. Gordon dies 1985. On Jan. 20 in New York City is born comedian-actor George Burns, who will win an Os-car for 1977’s The Sunshine Boys. He dies in 1996, short of his 100th birthday. In this year, Athens, Greece, hosts the first modern Olympic games; the U.S. Su-preme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson holds on May 18 that “separate but equal” facilities for different races are constitutional; and William Jennings Bryan, an advocate of “free silver” -- silver as coinage, which would decrease the value of gold -- at the Democratic Convention rails against the retention of a gold-only standard: “You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.” It wins the presidential nomi-nation for Bryan, who will be nominated twice more (and lose twice more). (Today we see this same philosophy of protecting the moneyed class by avoiding inflation through the Federal Reserve Board’s frequent raising of interest rates.) Plessy will not be overturned, regarding public schools, until Brown v. Board in 1954.

1897, May 17, Lawrence Pike Heard dies at age 62 in Reagan Wells TX. Two

months later, on Aug. 12, gold is discovered in Alaska at Klondike Creek. Later that month, Aug. 31, actor Frederick March (real name: Ernest Frederick McIntyre) is born in Racine, Wisconsin. March will win two Oscars for 1932’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Spencer Tracy did a better job in the 1941 version) and 1946’s The Best Years of Our Lives. He also appeared, as William Jennings Bry-an, in 1960’s great film, Inherit the Wind, playing opposite to Tracy as Clarence Darrow, but March’s William Jennings Bryan looked more like a buffoon cari-cature than the real Bryan. Perhaps March’s best movie-acting role came in 19-64’s Seven Days in May, where he appeared as the American president. In 1897 British physician Ronald Ross identifies the malaria bacillus. On June 2, from London, Mark Twain is quoted in the New York Journal, as saying, “The report of my death was an exaggeration.” Over time, people lacking the genius of Twain decided “was greatly exaggerated” sounded stronger. It didn’t. He said it right the first time.

1897, Nov. 5, Clarence Dexter Heard, second child, second son of WHH and

MECH, is born at Reagan Wells TX. A month earlier, Secretary of the Navy Theodore Roosevelt, notes war with Spain on behalf of the Cubans “would be a splendid thing for the Navy.” Less than three months later, on Feb. 15, 1898, the U.S. battleship Maine blows up in Havana harbor, starting the “little” Spanish-American War Roosevelt said would be splendid. Born two months earlier than Deck, on Sept. 9 in New Albany MS, is novelist William Faulkner, who will win the Nobel Prize for literature in 1949. Faulkner dies in 1962. Born in 1897 in Palermo, Sicily, is movie-director Frank Capra, who will win three Oscars for idealist films in the 1930s and 1940s like 1939’s Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and 1947’s It’s a Wonderful Life (both with James Stewart). Capra dies in 19-91.

1898, Feb, 15, the American battleship Maine explodes in Havana’s harbor,

killing 257 servicemen. No one knows the cause of the blast, but the United States goes to war with Spain because of it on April 25, 1898.

1899, Oct. 11, John Henry Heard, third child, third son of WHH and MECH, is

born at Reagan Wells TX more than four months after production-executive Irving G. Thalberg is born on May 30 in Brooklyn, and dancer-actor Fred Astaire and composer Dimitri Tiomkin are born on May 10, Astaire (real name Frederick Austerlitz) in Omaha, and Tiomkin in St. Petersburg, Russia. Astaire will win a life-achievement Oscar and earn a nomination for a supporting Oscar for 1974’s Towering Inferno. Thalberg, who dies at 37 in 1936, is known in Holly-wood as “The Boy Wonder.” In his 12 years with MGM, he produced a dozen top films, including three in 1935, Mutiny on the Bounty, China Seas, and A Night at the Opera. This writer doubts he saw Mutiny, because my mother no doubt thought it to be too violent. The Academic of Motion Pictures and Arts and Sciences will name its life-achievement award for Thalberg. Even a glamorous industry like the movies must have someone with brains to catapult it to raging success in a culture. Tiomkin will be nominated for several Oscars and will win for the scores of 1952’s High Noon (two Oscars, for best score and best theme song), 1954’s The High and the Mighty, and 1958’s The Old Man and the Sea. Tiomkin dies in 1979.

John is born three months after actor Charles Laughton is born on July 1 in Scar-borough, England. He will win the Oscar for 1933’s The Private Life of Henry VIII and probably should have won several more with his wide-ranging talent, in-cluding for such films as 1960’s Spartacus and 1962’s Advice and Consent. He dies in 1962. John is born two months before suspense-movie-director Alfred Hitchcock is born in London. Hitchcock achieves his fame with a series of classic grab-your-seat thrillers in America, including 1935’s The 39 Steps, 1940s Rebecca, 1941’s Suspicion, 1944’s Lifeboat, 1945’s Spellbound, 1948’s The Paradine Case and Rope, 1954’s Dial M for Murder and Rear Window, 1955’s To Catch a Thief, 1958’s Vertigo, 1959’s North by Northwest, 1960’s Psycho, 1963’s The Birds, and 1964’s Marnie. Hitchcock dies at 80 in 1980 after recei-ving an Oscar for life achievement in 1979. This writer (nuts bout movies) as a boy saw all those except the first.

Nine months earlier than John’s birth, on Jan. 23 in New York City, is born movie-actor Humphrey Bogart, who wins an Oscar for 1951’s The African Queen, co-starring Katharine Hepburn (these two are perhaps the most-popular actor and actress in the history of Hollywood, and this is the only time they are paired; I alwys liked him but seldom her), but Bogart also stars, like Gregory Peck, and Harrison Ford, in several classics, including 1941’s The Maltese Falcon, 1943’s Casablanca (with Ingrid Bergman), and Sahara, 1945’s To Have and Have Not (with Lauren Becall), 1946’s The Big Sleep, 1948’s The Treasure of Sierra Madre and Key Largo, and 1954’s The Caine Mutiny and The Barefoot Contessa (with there’s-never-been-anyone-sexier-than Ava Gardner in that movie). Not a heartthrob like Clark Gable, Robert Taylor or the young Orson Welles, or with a statuesque build, Bogart could be described as the Lincoln of film, with a face so damaged it’s fascinating. Bogart, a smoker, dies in 1957 of lung cancer. In 1899, on July 1, the first Gideon Bible is placed in a hotel in Montana. In 1899, Boers at Mafikeng (then known as Mafeking), South Africa, besieged (British Gen. Robert BadenPowell (founder of the Boy Scouts in 1908) for 217 days. Born five months earlier than John, on May 10 in Omaha NE, is dancer-actor Fred Astaire, who will be nominated for a supporting Oscar and win two life-achievement awards, including an Oscar in 1949. Born on July 7 in New York City is Hollywood director George Cukor (1939’s Gone With the Wind, 1943’s The Philadelphia Story, 1944’s Gaslight, 1949’s Adam’s Rib and 1952’s Pat and Mike, with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn, and wins the Oscar for best film, 1964’s My Fair Lady. Cukor dies in 1983.

1899, Oct. 18, Minerva Tennessee Gulley (Heard) (Dow Sr.’s wife) is born in San

Antonio TX a month after director Hal Wallis is born in Chicago. Wallis will be involved in more than 400 films, many of which win Oscars. Among his more memorable movies are 1936’s The Life of Louis Pasteur, Anthony Adverse, Charge of the Light Brigade, and Green Pastures; 1937’s The Life of Emile Zola, 1938’s Jezebel, with Bette Davis, and The Adventures of Robin Hood, with Errol Flynn; 1939’s Dark Victory and Juarez; 1941’s High Sierra (with Humphrey Bogart); The Sea Wolf (from Jack London’s novel); Sergeant York (with Gary Cooper), and The Maltese Falcon; 1943’s Casablanca (many viewers’ all-time favorite, including mine); 1952’s Come Back Little Sheba; 1955’s The Rose Tattoo; 1965’s Becket and The Sons of Katie Elder; 1967’s Barefoot in the Park (with Robert Redford and Jane Fonda); 1969’s True Grit; and 1971’s Red Sky at Morning. Wallis dies in 1986. Minerva is born four days after William McKinley on Oct. 14 becomes the first president to take a ride in an automobile, a Stanley Steamer, and 11 days before actor Akim Tamiroff is born on Oct. 29 in Baku, Russia. Tamiroff, often cast (in the words of Ephraim Katz’s Film Encyclopedia) as “an unsavory, mysterious foreigner with a heavy Slavic accent,” and earns Oscar nominations for 1936’s The General Died at Dawn and 1943’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, from Ernest Hemingway’s novel. He dies in 1972. On July 17 in New York City, actor James Cagney is born. He will win an Oscar for 1942’s Yankee Doodle Dandy, win the first life-achievement award from the American Film Institute, in 1974, and the nation’s Medal of Freedom in 1984. Cagney dies in 1986. Minerva will remember seeing Halley’s Comet in April 1910, when Mark Twain, born when Halley’s last appeared, in 1835, dies. In the 19th century, the 30-mile trip to Uvalde by wagon from ranches miles up on the Dry Frio took the better part of two days -- one day to reach the intersection with the road from Uvalde to Leakey (and on to Junction), where they would camp for the night, sometimes hearing train bells 18 miles south in Uvalde (the wind in Texas in good weather usually comes out of the south or southeast), and the second day to complete the trip. Then they parked the wagon in a wagon yard a block off the square to the west, just north of the road to Del Rio. They visited with folks from other canyons in town.



Photo “about 1899” from p. 132 of Florence Fenley’s first Oldtimers book, 1939. A “corroded illustration,” Fenley says, this shows “left to righ” businesses “facing Market Plaza.” I assume (it makes sense) that the photographer took this shot from high in the old courthouse on the east side of the plaza, facing west. Fenley identifies the businesses as “Geo. Horner Hardware [straight across from the center of the Plaza; on the original, one can read the second half of the word HARDWARE, WARE, on the sign above the front of the store], “Evans Building occu-pied by Old Commercial Bank, Nath Watkins Barber Shop [short structure between the bank and the next building, which housed two stores; not the barbershop, apparently, where Hub got his chin mole cut in 1920, which shop, I think, faced the plaza from the middle of the north side, to the right, and still sat there several years ago, when I interviewed the owner], T.P. Roberts Store, Stafford Meat Market building (corner of alley), Zachry store [owner an ancestor of Aggie multimillionaire Zachry building contractor in San Antonio in the late 20th century?], Brasher Livery Stable [short, narrow structure barely visible here, but clearer on the original, across the alley, facing south], and Benson Building [long, low building facing south] occupied by Restaurant and Offices upstairs. The latter part of this description is unclear, as I will explain in a moment. The Horner Hardware store in my youth in the 1940s, sat half a block to the left (south) of the building identified here. That means either the store expanded in that direction (most likely) or moved there. Anyway, the wagonyard where members of our family would have put their wagons after the two-day trip to Uvalde would have been behind where the hardware store stood in the 1940s.


If I am right about the livery being the short white structure across the alley (and one can see a gate and pen beyond it in the original), then the next store, the long dark building immediately to its east is either part of the liv-ery (office?) or the “Benson Building occupied as Restaurant and Offices upstairs.” Neither of the first two large establishments facing south appears to have any upstairs windows for “Offices.” The next building does have up-stair windows. Fenley’s cutline says, “[F.A.] Piper Co. on corner of Plaza and Getty street are [is] not shown,” presumably off-camera at bottom right (Getty would be the street immediately below the camera, in front of the courthouse; suddenly I wonder if that street got its name from anything to do with Gettysburg; there is no chapter heading “Getty” in either of Fenley’s books; and it is known that Reading Wood Black, founder of Uvalde, did not sympathize with the Confederacy or the Union).


In an interview with W.H. Parsons on p. 163 in Fenley’s 1939 book, Par-sons says when he moved to Uvalde on July 1, 1881, “I went over to Piper’s store (which is Horner’s now) . . . ” That tells us Horner’s is located on Getty and Plaza in 1881. This corner later saw the construction of the Opera House in 1891. We can see in the 1899 photo above that Horner’s in 1899 sat facing the plaza from its west side. Fenley’s cutline also says the plaza is “now [1939] named Band Stand Plaza.” It also says this photo shows “a monument to R.W. Black [in the plaza] . . . and pretty shrubbery and trees . . . “ Even on the original, I can’t find a monument or a band stand. And the ground looks bare and uninviting. Today, of course, and for many years past, giant trees shaded the plaza and good shrubbery existed on the plaza. Notice the two telephone poles (actually three, two being to the right) in the foreground. Telephone service dated back to 1878 (Mark Twain got the first one that year in Hartford, Connecticut) and in Texas generally in the 1880s.



The old Uvalde courthouse and city hall, where today’s courthouse stands, from p. 184 of Fen-ley’s first book. I think the photographer of the previous photo of the plaza in 1899 took it from near the top of this structure, completed in 18-90, according to The Courthouses of Texas, Mavis P. Kelsey Sr., and Donald H. Dyal, Texas A&M University Press, College Station, 1993. A&M hired a guy named Boatwright (Dr. Douglas?) from the University of Texas Press about 45 years ago to build up the A&M Press, and he did. Courthouses says the first Uvalde courthouse got constructed in 1877. No known photograph or drawing of it exists.



Today’s Uvalde County Courthouse, designed by Henry T. Phelps, of brick and limestone, completed in 1927. Too bad Uvalde apparently could not afford to hire J. Riely Gordon, to build its 1890 courthouse. If Gordan did, it probably would still be standing. Gordon designed what to me are the three most beautiful courthouses in Texas (out of 254 courthouses, in Gonzales (Gonzales County), in Waxahachie (Ellis County) and in Decatur, 35 miles north-northwest of Fort Worth (Wise County), which builders completed in 1894, 1896 and 1896, respectively. All three are done in a Romanesque Revival style. The main materials used in them: red brick from St. Louis and limestone from local quarries (Gonzales), red sandstone and granite (Waxahachie) and pink granite (Decatur). The photo of the old Uvalde Courthouse in Fenley’s 1939 book is undated in the book but should carry a date well into the 20th century because the trees around the edge of the plaza are larger than those in the 1899 photo. In the later photo with the larger trees, however, there is a structure in the center of the plaza that does not look like a bandstand. Rather, it looks like an imposing residence attached to which on the back is another, poorer-made structure that might be a storage facility. Below are photos of the three Texas courthouses that I most admire, all photos from the Kelsey and Dyal book.




Courthouse in Gonzales, Texas.




Courthouse in Decatur, Texas.



Courthouse in Waxahachie, Texas.


1900, Sept. 8, a hurricane later thought to peak at 120 an hour miles (no one

knows for sure) kills 6,000 to 8,000 people (no one knows for sure) in Galveston TX, and destroys 1,500 to 2,000 homes and buildings, the worst natural disaster to hit the United States, even greater than when Category Four Hurricane Katrina (135 mile-an-hour winds) smashes into New Orleans on Aug. 29, 2005. Few people in Galveston, population 37,786 in the 1900 census, paid attention to warning flags flown by Isaac Cline, head of the U.S. Weather Bureau Station in Galveston. An example of how we forget the worst of the worst is that the mayor appointed an ad hoc Central Relief Committee made up of leading citizens, and that committee decided every able-bodied man must work to dispose of the bodies. Men with rifles commandeered 50 black men (and probably others) to work on collecting dead bodies to be weighted with rocks on barges and dumped at sea, or later burned in pyres on the beach. Only concession: The men commandeered often got from those with rifles whiskey to dull their senses. A little over a week after the storm, Clara Barton, who tended wounded men in the American Civil War and in the Franco-Prussian War (1870-71), and who organized the American Red Cross in 1881, arrives in Galveston, and her name elicits many contributions to help victims because people knew and trusted her name.

1901, Jan. 10, Arvie Jones (Heard), real maiden name: Cynthia Arvazena Jones,

John Henry Heard’s wife, is born. On this same day, oil shoots skyward at a derrick at Spindletop in southeast Texas (years after a famous geologist in the

East promised to drink every drop of oil produced west of the Mississippi River; the first major oil discovery in Texas occurred in 1894 at Corsicana). Thirteen days later, on Jan. 23, British Queen Victoria dies at age 82 after reigning for 64 years. On Feb. 1, movie-actor Clark Gable (full name: William Clark Gable) is born in Cadiz OH. He wins an Oscar (as does co-star Claudette Colbert) for 1934’s It Happened One Night, and plays Rhett Butler in 1939’s Gone With the Wind. Two months before Arvie’s birth, composer Aaron Copland, who would write the first distinctly American classical music, including, Fanfare for the Common Man, Appalachian Spring and A Lincoln Portrait, is born in Brooklyn on Nov. 14, 1900. Four months before Arvie’s birth, on Sept. 8, 1900, a giant hurricane strikes Galveston TX, killing an estimated 8,000 persons, the worst natural dis-aster in U.S. history. Five months before that, on April 5, 1900, Spencer Tracy is born in Milwaukee. Called the best screen actor by Sir Laurence Olivier, Tracy will win the Oscar for best actor twice in a row, in 1937-38 for Captains Courageous and Boys Town, he also receives seven other nominations, but no doubt his refusal to attend the Academy Awards ceremony after 1940 factored into his not winning again. He dies June 10, 1967, after a series of great performances over his last dozen years: 1955’s Bad Day at Black Rock, 1958’s The Old Man and the Sea, 1960’s Inherit the Wind 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg, and 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.

On Tracy’s 16th birthday, April 5, 1916, Gregory Peck is born in La Jolla CA. Peck is nominated for Oscars four times (for 1945’s The Keys of the Kingdom, 1946’s The Yearling, 1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement, and 1950’s Twelve O’clock High, he wins for best actor as Atticus Finch in 1962’s To Kill a Mockingbird, based on Harper Lee’s novel. Incidentally, the next day, April 6 (in 1884 in Toronto) is Walter Huston’s birthday. Huston did not make his first movie until 1929, at age 45. He dies in 1950 at age 66. This is getting carried away, but April 7 is Billie Holiday’s and James Garner’s birthday, in 1915 and 1928, in Baltimore and Norman OK, respectively. Born May 7, 1901, in Helena MT, is laconic and lanky actor Gary Cooper, who will win Oscars for 1941’s Sergeant York, 1952’s High Noon, and a “career achievement” Oscar in 1960. Cooper dies the next year, in 1961. Newspapers of Jan. 22, 2001, two days after President Bill Clinton leaves the White House, reveal High Noon is Clinton’s fa-vorite movie -- an appropriate choice, given Clinton’s mostly solitary struggle against wealthy arch-conservative zealots who obsessively pursued every possible accusation against him for eight years (they could not stand it that ge beart the eldr Bush, whofamously said, “Read my lips:no new taxes,” then agreed with Democrats that America needed new taxes.

1901, April 8, Lawrence E. Langworthy is born three days after actor Melvyn

Douglas is born on April 5 in Macon GA (real name: Melvyn Edouard Hessel-berg). He twice will win an Oscar for best-supporting actor in 1963’s Hud (based on Larry McMurtry’s first novel(at age 24!), Horseman, Pass By) and 1979’s Being There. He also received a nomination for best actor for 1970’s I Never Sang for My Father. His second wife, Helen Gahagan Douglas (b. Nov. 25, 1900 in Boonton NJ) is falsely linked to the Communist Party by Richard Nixon in the 1948 U.S. Senate race in California. Nixon refers to her as the “Pink Lady.” Helen dies in 1981. On March 25 in Hartford CT is born actor Ed Begley, one of the great character actors of all time. Begley wins a supporting Oscar for 1962’s Sweet Bird of Youth. He should have won for Twelve Angry Men. He dies in 1970. Five months later, on Sept. 6, 1901, President William McKinley is shot by anarchist Leon Czolgosz and dies on Sept. 14, elevating Theodore Roosevelt to the White House. Born on June 29 in Providence RI is singer-actor Nelson Eddy, who teams with Jeanette McDonald in popular musical movies in the 1930s and 1940s (the first movie Robert Heard sees, 1936’s Rose Marie, stars that pair plus Jimmy Stewart in one of his first roles). Vice President Theodore Roosevelt is sworn in as president in Buffalo, New York, after the assassination of William McKinley on Sept. 6 in that city. “Teddy” will dig the Panama Canal and send a fleet of American battleships around the world to announce the presence of America as a world power, despite lacking appropriations from Congress (saying he would send the fleet, and that it would be up to Congress whether it wanted to bring it back). Roosevelt wins the Nobel Peace Prize in 1906 for mediating an end to the Russo-Japanese War (but it will not be revealed for many decades that he secretly allows the Japanese to take over the Korean Peninsula, an agreement that contributes to the “Korean Conflict” of 1950-53). Roosevelt per-suades a conservative Congress to curb some of the more outrageous acts of the “Robber Barons” by regulating railroad rates and passing the Pure Food and Drug Act and Meat Inspection Act, but he will be unable to win approval for many other progressive measures that will not become law until his fifth cousin Franklin Roosevelt accomplishes them during the Great Depression of the 1930s.


Animator-producer Walt Disney is born on Dec. 5 in Chicago. Disney will create Mickey Mouse as Steamboat Willie in 1927, and later Mickey friends Donald Duck, Goofy and Pluto. His 1938’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, a huge gamble because each frame of the film must be drawn, is a great success and spawns several other animated features, and Disney’s organization later does nu-merous straight films that make Disney the king of family entertainment. Altogether, Disney wins 29 Oscars for his films. He dies Dec. 15, 1966. Swedish inventor of dynamite, Alfred Nobel, on Dec. 10 establishes his Nobel Peace Prize, noting it probably would not last more than 30 years because, if the world could not achieve piece by that time, we would return to barbarism. On Dec. 27 in Berlin is born actress Marlene Dietrich (full name Maria Magdalene Dietrich), who be-comes a sensational film star in Germany, flees Hitler’s rule and declines generous offers to return, becoming an American citizen in 1939 and starring in Hollywood films and raising money for the war against Hitler. She dies in 1992. In 1901 Italian inventor Guglielmo Marconi sends wireless signals across the Atlantic.


1901, Sept. 6, President William McKinley is assassinated early in his second term in Buffalo NY, and Vice President Theodore Roosevelt becomes president at age 42, It is said writer L. Frank Baum modeled his character for the Wizard of Oz in the novel of the same name on McKinley.

The “Old House” as it appeared as a ruin in the 1990s, less than a quarter mile southwest of the 1909 Heard School/Church (you can walk there from the reunion, taking the road that runs west, south of the cemetery). Six of the 10 children of Hub and Lizzie got born here from 1902 to 1913, from Bessie to Mag. Only Woodrow would be born in the 1914 house. Older children, Dow, 1896; Deck, 1897; and John, 1899, got born near or at the same site where “SargeCummings lived, half a mile south of Reagan Wells on the west side of the Dry Frio. The big window closest to the camera is to the living room, where Robert Heard sang Popeye the Sailorman as a four-year-old in 1934, prancing in front of the adults lining the wall, to earn a nickel from Uncle Sid, 30. John and Arvie and their three daughters lived here in the 1930s. The screened-in back porch with a bucket of drinking water and a dipping gourd are around the corner to the far left.

1902, July 9, Laura Elizabeth “Bessie” Heard (Langworthy), fourth child, first

daughter of WHH and MECH is born in Reagan Wells TX eight days after direc-tor William Wyler is born July 1 in Mulhouse, Alsace (then part of Germany). Wyler will win Oscars for best director three times, 1942’s Mrs. Miniver, 1946’s The Best Years of Our Lives, and 1959’s Ben-Hur, and all three win as best picture. He directs several movies in which stars, resentful of his perfectionist attitude that earns him the nickname “90-take Wyler,” change their minds after they win Oscars. His films include 1938’s Jezebel, “1939’s Wuthering Heights, 19-40’s The Westerner, 1953’s Roman Holiday, and 1968’s Funny Girl. He wins the Thalberg Award in 1965 and the American Film Institute’s Life Achievement Award in 1976. Wyler dies in 1981. On Sept. 2 in Wahoo NE is born movie-producer Darryl F. Zanuck, who would have won several Oscars if they gave them to producers. Among his films are 1939’s Jesse James, Young Mr. Lincoln, and Drums Along the Mohawk, 1940’s The Grapes of Wrath, 1941’s Tobacco Road, Blood and Sand, and How Green Was My Valley, 1944’s Wilson, 1946’s The Razor’s Edge, 1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement, 1949’s Pinky, 1950’s All About Eve, 1952’s Viva Zapata! 1956’s The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, 1957’s The Sun Also Rises, and 1962’s The Longest Day. In 1902 President Theodore Roosevelt, a hunter, refuses to shoot a baby bear, which leads to the creation of one of the most popular toys in history, the Teddy Bear. On Aug. 11, Oliver Wendell Holmes is appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court. A Union combat veteran of the Civil War, Holmes will turn out to be perhaps the court’s best writer in its history and will serve until 1935, championing “public interest” over “profits.” A champion of the First Amendment, Holmes perhaps is best remembered for the assertion no one “has the right to falsely cry fire in a crowded theater” (it will be frequently misquoted by leaving out “falsely”). Born 17 days after Bessie, on July 26, is comedienne Gracy Allen (real name: Grace Ethel Cecile Rosalie), who marries and teams with comedian George Allen. Born almost two months before Bessie is born, on May 3 in Tacoma, Washington, Harry Lillis Crosby, who will become famous under the stage name of Bing Crosby. Crosby died in 1977. Born less than four weeks later, on May 29 in Eltham, England, is Leslie Townes Hope, who will become famous under the stage name Bob Hope. Crosby and Hope pair-up in several Hollywood “road” shows. Hope lived to be 100 and died in 2003. Born on Dec. 5 in Edgefield, South Carolina, is Republican Sen. Strom Thurmond. His birth predates by a year and 12 days Wright Brothers’ making the first heavier-than-air, powered flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, on Dec. 17, 1903. A longtime Democrat, then presidential candidate for the States’ Rights Party in 1948, Thurmond cele-brated his 98th birthday in 2000; he dies June 26, 2003 at age 100. In his first campaign for political office, some Confederate veterans voted for him. Actor (Sir) Ralph Richardson is born on Dec. 19 in Cheltenham, England. He excels as a stage actor but earns two Oscar nominations. Richardson died at 80 in 1983. Bessie is born a little over four months after John Steinbeck is born in Salinas CA on Feb. 27 Steinbeck will win both the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes, mainly for what this writer considers the greatest American novel of the 20th century, The Grapes of Wrath, 1939; I still think the Great American Novel got penned in 1884, Twain’s Hucklebery Finn). Hollywood turned Steinbeck’s masterpiece into a five-star movie in 1939, starring Henry Fonda, as Tom Joad, and Jane Darwell, who wins the best-actress Oscar for her portrayal as Ma Joad. Steinbeck’s books still sells in huge numbers in the 21st century.



1904, Jan. 7, Sidney Sterling Heard, fifth child, fourth son of WHH and MECH, is

born in Reagan Wells TX three weeks after Orville Wright achieves the first heavier-than-air, powered flight at Kitty Hawk NC on Dec. 17, 1903. On June 17 in Chicago, actor Ralph Bellamy is born. Bellamy will earn an Oscar nomination for 1937’s The Awful Truth, be remembered best for and win a Tony for his stage role as Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1958’s Sunrise at Campobello, and win a Life Achievement Oscar in 1986. He dies in 1991. In 1904 French sculptor Auguste Rodin fashions The Thinker. Born two and a half months after Sid, on March 24 in San Antonio, is actress Joan Crawford (real name Lucille Fay Le Sueur) who will win an Oscar as the lead in 1945’s Mildred Pierce, and will twice more be nominated for Oscars. She dies in 1977. Born April 14 in London is actor (Sir) John Gielgud, who stars in British theater, especially as a Shakespearean actor, is nominated for an Oscar for 1964’s Beckett, and wins as best-supporting actor in 1981’s Arthur. Gielgud also wins a Tony and an Emmy. He dies at 96 on May 21, 2000, the last of the trio of great Shakespearean actors, all native to England, in the 20th century. The other two are Sir Lawrence Olivier (1907-1989) and Sir Ralph Richardson (1902-1983). Sir Alex Guinness calls Giel-gud’s voice “a sliver trumpet muffled in silk.” Actor Jerry Colonna (full name: Gerardo -- Gerald -- Luigi Colonna) is born in Boston in 1904 and becomes a hi- larious comedian (including with the Bob Hope Show) with his bulging and rolling eyes, his walrus mustache and booming voice. Colonna dies in 1986.


Born in Chicago a month and a half after Sid is William L. Shirer, Feb. 23, 1904. Working his way to Europe on a cattle boat, intending to spend the summer there, he remained in Europe for the next fifteen years. European correspondent for the Chicago Tribune from 1925-1932, covering assignments in Europe, the Near East and India, Shirer in India formed a close friendship with Mohandas K. Gandhi. Hired in 1934 for the Berlin bureau of the Universal News Service, one of William Randolph Hearst’s two news services, Shirer lost that job when INS folded in 1937, then Hearst’s other news service, International News Service, made him its second hire from UNS, but laid him off two weeks later. On the day Shirer got his two-weeks’ notice, he received a call from CBS Radio’s Edward R. Murrow, four years younger than Shirer (4.25.08-4.27.65) suggesting they meet. Murrow told him he couldn’t cover all of Europe from London and needed an experienced correspondent to be based on the European continent. He hired Shirer on the spot, subject to a “voice test,” from which CBS executives in New York would use to determine if Shirer’s voice fit radio needs. Shirer feared his reedy voice would doom the hire, but it didn’t. Shirer became the first of the group that would be called "Murrow's Boys" -- the groundbreaking broadcast journalists who provided outstanding news coverage during World War II and afterward on television (these included Eric Sevareid, Charles Collinwood, Richard C. Hottelet, Winston Burdett, and Daniel Schorr). Shire set up in Vienna. CBS's prohibition on its correspondents talking on the radio (then why the voice test?) -- viewed by both Murrow and Shirer as "absurd" -- ended in March 1938. On March 11, the Germans annexed Austria (the Anschluss) after months of blustering about the two countries’ “affinity” (Hitler got born in Austria).


Despite being banned by the Germans from using the Austrian radio facilities, Shirer scored a scoop because his only American rival in Vienna, Max Jordan of NBC, happened to be out of town, and Shirer flew to London via Berlin to make his exclusive, eyewitness report on the Anschluss. Shirer later reports in his Berlin Dairy that Jews fleeing German-occupied Austria filled his plane to Berlin and then to London. His report prompted the start of a 30-minute CBS World News Roundup (later expanded to an hour).


Murrow famously broadcast -- once from atop a building -- during German bombing raids on London in 1940. The January 23-30, 2006, edition of The New Yorker magazine quotes poet Archibald MacLeish, p. 38, as complimenting Murrow this way: “You burned the city of London in our houses and we felt the flames that burned it.” So often, a poet says it best.


The close relationship between Shirer and Morrow ended in 1947, when a soap manufacturer withdrew its sponsorship of Shirer’s Sunday program, CBS continued it for a time unsponsored, then dropped it. Shirer blamed Murrow, calling him “Paley’s Toady,” referring to CBS chief executive William S. Paley. The incident prompted Murrow to resign his vice presidency of CBS and return to broadcasting. An “anti-Communist” organization called Red Channels subsequently blacklisted Shirer from both electronic and print journalism, forcing him to make a living for his wife and two daughters on the lecture circuit. Fortunes changed for him with the publication in 1959 of his masterful The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, 1,245 pages. So good is that book that no one seriously offered another comprehensive account of the Hitler government in the six decades since its publication (it would be hard to beat because Shirer lived it throughout the existence of the Reich). I vividly remember reading Rise in Long Beach in 1959, soon after I read Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel (1958). Murrow tried to heal the breach between them shortly before he died in 1965 of lung cancer (as associated on screen with cigarette smoking as actor Humphrey Bogart, who also dies of lung cancer at barely 57 in 1957), but Shirer, who endured 16 really tough years, remained cold.


After the split, Murrow challenged Wisconsin Sen. Joseph McCarty’s red-baiting in 1954 (true, this is late to the game -- Harry S Truman did it years earlier -- but no other broadcast or prominent print journalist then possessed the guts to take on McCarthy). Murrow took on other controversial subjects, mem- orably the plight of migrant farm laborers in the late 1950s, and got into trouble with Paley! Shirer died on Dec. 28, 1993, less than two months before his 90th birthday. In 2005, actor/producer George Clooney offered a fine reminiscent film of Murrow: Good Night, and Good Luck. Much of this data on Shirer and Murrow is from Wikipedia Encyclopedia on Google.


Theodore Roosevelt, president from 1901 to 1909, showing his signature, toothy smile, artwork based on a 1912 photograph, Time-Life History of the United States, Vol. 9, p. 82. The Republican political bosses in New York state, Mark Hanna and Tom Platt, wanted to get rid of Gov. Theodore Roosevelt, who wouldn’t fol-low their wishes, so Hanna and Platt engineered the “pro-motion” of Roosevelt to the vice-presidency, but Hanna also told President McKinley his primary duty would be to not die in office (Theodore Roosevelt: A Life, Nathan Miller, William Morrow and Company, New York, 19-92, pp. 336-342). Roosevelt combined enormous energy with great intelligence -- he memorized large portions of the French epic The Song of Roland, based on stories centuries old (much like England’s King Arthur and even Homer’s Iliad) in antique French. A writer and scholar, he embodied what many would call the attributes of a be-nevolent dictator (the trouble always being: who follows that example, with all the power but none of the benevo-lence of that guy?). Unquestionably, T.R. launched this country as a competitor in the age of imperialism. In ad-dition, he tried to push social reform in the United States but mainly succeeded only as a trustbuster (restraining some of the worst excesses of the “robber barons”). A fifth-cousin, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, pushed through some of Teddy’s social reforms because Congress paid more attention to them in the Great Depression of the 19-30s. Theodore sent American battleships around the world, answering critics in Congress with this line: he sent the Great White Fleet on the voyage (to impress the world with U.S. might) and would leave it to Congress to pay for getting the ships home. Regarding his bullying leadership to get the Panama Canal constructed, he said “I didn’t steal the canal; I built it.” T.R. envies Lincoln’s leadership in the Civil Wars, but he solves a strike by coalminers by threat-ening to nationalize the industry, forcing management to agree to a settlement favoring the workers. Clearly, we need a T.R. today to curb corporate power, but instead, in 2001-2009, we endured a toady of the corporations who, for example, promotes such things as “volunteerism” in re-ducing air pollutants from factory chimneys. After the “Gil-ded Age,” the country stood ripe for reform. For example, New York City possessed no sanitary system, no high-ways and no social welfare program. The poor in New York starved.



1904 photo of the John Lightfoot and Sarah Amanda Gulley family. My mother, Minerva Tennessee Gulley, 5, is leaning on her dad’s right knee. Her twin, David Titus, is to her right. Others, l-to-r, are Minnie Lea, 1; Sarah, 39; David; Dixon, 17; John, 43; Peter, 7; Harvey, 6; and Leroy, 13. Not shown, John Lightfoot’s eighth child, by the second of three wives: John, 12, who lived with an aunt in Hope AR, from which the Gulley family moved to San Antonio (where he married Sarah in 1896) in 1891. Soon, John ran the Gold Jersey Dairy Farm north of downtown San Antonio on the New Braunfels Road. A scientific breeder of Jersey cattle, John enter-ed a bull in the San Antonio International Fair of 1909, and the judges named his bull grand champion. John sold that business and moved to Uvalde County in 1916 to raise sheep and Angora goats. Dixon later became an outstanding property-law professor at St. Mary’s University Law School (his photograph still graces a wall there). Peter became a regionally famous livestock auctioneer. A smoker, Peter died of lung cancer in 1967 at age 69. Harvey and David split their father’s ranch 10 miles north of Uval-de after the father’s death Jan. 29, 1936 (I’m told I knew him, but I don’t remember him). They took their dad’s best animals to the Centennial Texas Fair in Dallas (Oc-tober 1936) and won 11 blue ribbons. The Gulleys possessed more money than the Heards, and whenmy father married Minerva Gulley in 1917, the ceremony got held in the Gulley home 10 miles north of Uvalde). Check out the ears on Dixon and his father. Note all of them are looking slightly to their right, as the photographer no doubt asked them to. Reminds me of the funny line about Leonardo de Vinci’s Last Supper, “OK, everybody move to this side of the table.” Ever notice that most people’s mouths turn down on the outside, and that when we smile, we mostly make our mouths straight?





Charlie Augustin Heard (Augustin for the first name of his Uncle Augustin Early Heard (b. March 24, 1823, in Jasper County, Georgia) and Alvin Rebecca Post, “a few years after their marriage” (Aug. 6, 1901). In late 1904, he would have been 29, and she 25 (b. April 10, 1879). In later years she would be called Yaddie. She got born 51 years after my birth on April 10, 1930. Photo from Florence Fenley’s second Oldtimers book, 1957, p. 218.


­1904, Aug. 17, Clara Bradshaw Heard (Clarence Dexter Heard’s wife) is born

half a year after movie-actor Cary Grant (real name: Archibald Alexander Leach) is born on Jan. 18 in Bristol, England. Reared in poverty, Grant runs away from home at 13. Suave and debonair, Grant stars in such movies as 1938’s Bringing Up Baby, 1941’s Suspicion, 1944’s Arsenic and Old Lace, and 1946’s Notorious, with Ingrid Bergman. He will receive a life-achievement Oscar in 1970 after missing on two earlier nom-inations. He dies in 1986. Two months after Clara is born, on Oct. 27, the first part of the subway system in New York City is completed. Helen Keller, deaf and blind, gradu-ates this year with honors from Radcliff. (This writer as a high school senior in Atlanta GA heard Keller speak in early 1947; Keller held a great friendship with Mark Twain, my literary hero.) On Dec. 18 in Oakland CA is born director George Stevens, who as a major in the Army Signal Corps in WWII will head the filming of the liberation of Den-mark, the liberation of the concentration camp at Dachau, and the capture of Hitler’s Berchtesgaden mountain hideaway (perhaps it is Stevens that Ronald Reagan imagined himself to be when he later claims, falsely, to have been present at the liberation of Holocaust camps). Stevens wins best-director Oscars for 1951’s A Place in the Sun (adapted from Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy) and for 1956’s Giant (an adaptation of Edna Ferber’s novel), and between those receive the Thalberg Award “for high quality of production.” Also between the Oscars, he directed 1953’s Shane (from Jack Schaefer’s novel), and before that 1939’s Gunga Din. He also produced or co-produced Gunga Din, Shane, and Giant. He dies in 1975. New York in 1904 be-comes the first state to set speed limits for automobiles, 10 mph in cities, 15 in small towns and 20 in the country. In 1904, Italian composer Giacomo Puccini writes Madam Butterfly, the most beautiful female operatic aria ever, and the hamburger sandwich and the ice-cream cone are invented.




The photo above, taken in about 1905, shows “HubHeard and many of his An-gora goats, plus his eldest three sons, to his right, Deck, 8, and John (with dog), 6. In the background on a horse is my dad, 9.


1905, May 21, Cecil Norton Dunlap (Bertha Heard’s husband) is born. Six days

before Cecil Dunlap is born, on May 15, actor Joseph Cotten is born in Petersburg VA and will play in 100 movies, including top films like 1941’s Citizen Kane, 1946’s Duel and the Sun, and 1949’s The Third Man, but never be nominated for an Oscar. He dies in 1995. Born a day later, May 16, 1905, in Grand Island NE, is actor Henry Fonda, who will star in as many good films perhaps as any other actor, including 1939’s Jesse James, as Frank James (Tyron Power plays Jesse), Young Mr. Lincoln, and Drums Along the Mohawk; 1940’s The Grapes of Wrath; 1943’s The Ox-Bow Incident; 1946’s My Darling Clementine as Wyatt Earp; 1955’s Mr. Roberts; 1962’s Advice and Consent; 1964’s Fail Safe; and 1981’s On Golden Pond. He wins an hon-orary Oscar in 1980 for his “consummate” acting career and a best-actor Oscar in 1981 for On Golden Pond, in which he stars with his daughter, Jane Fonda, a two-time Oscar winner out of seven nominations. Henry dies in 1982. On Sept. 18 in Stockholm is born actress Greta Garbo (real name: Greta Louisa Gustafsson), who becomes the most fam-ous actress in the world but never wins an Oscar until she receives an honorary one in 19-54 for life achievement. She retires from films after 1941 -- “I vant to be alone”-- becomes a recluse and dies in 1990. In 1905, Theodore Roosevelt negotiates an end to the war between Russia and Japan, which will win for Roosevelt the Nobel Peace Prize (but an unconscionable, secret part of the treaty gives Japan control of Korea, whose consequences we still live with today -- Korean women used as “comfort women” by the Japanese Army still press their case in court).

1905, Dec. 13, Bertha Heard (Dunlap), sixth child, second daughter of WHH and

MECH, is born in Reagan Wells TX eight days after the birth of movie-director Otto Preminger on Dec. 5 in Vienna. Preminger, an “envelope-pusher,” and therefore controversial, nevertheless earns Oscar nominations for 1944’s Laura and 1963’s The Cardinal. Among other great films he directed are 1953’s Stalag 17, 1955’s The Man With the Golden Arm, 1960’s Exodus, and 1962’s Advise and Consent. Born between Cecil and Bertha, on June 3, Sept. 13 and Oct. 17, respectively, are actresses Paulette Goddard (real name: Pauline Marion Levee or Levy), in Whitestone Landing NY; Claudette Colbert (real name: Claudette Lily Chauchoin), in Paris, France; and actress Jean Arthur in New York City (real name: Gladys Georgianna Greene), whose last movie, 1953’s Shane, be-comes a Western classic (but my grandmother Heard disliked westerns generally because horses that ran a long way did not sweat, and cowboys wore “cowboy boots” that lookd nothing like real men’s footwear on ranches in the 19th century). Arthur will be nominated for an Oscar in the same film for which Charles Colburn (who always reminded this writer of his father). Arthur wins for best-supporting actor in 1943’s The More the Merrier. Arthur dies in 1991. Colbert wins the Oscar for 1934’s It Happened One Night (with Clark Gable, who also wins an Oscar), and she is nominated for an Oscar twice more. In one of her best-known scenes, she plays the lead in Cleopatra, bathing in a tub of milk, also in 1934. Col-bert dies in 1996. Goddard is nominated for an Oscar for 1943’s So Proudly We Hail. She dies in 1990.


Born on Dec. 9, 1905, in Montrose CO, is screenwriter-novelist Dalton Trumbo, who will be blacklisted as one of the Hollywood Ten in 1947 for refusing to testi-fy, on First Amendment grounds, before the House Un-American Activities Com-mittee about alleged membership in the Communist Party (nearly all intellectuals in the 1930s flirt with communism, large because offalse claims made by the U.S.-S.R. Today, we have Social Security, which Republicans rightly brand Socialism, and national health care (ditto). Not everything about Socialism is bad. First nation in the world to adopt Social Security: Otto von Bismarck’s Germany in 1880. Before we adopted Social Security in 1935 under FDR, old people starved. People live longer now than a century ago. This writer, who never wanted to reach 80, now is 81. Trumbo draws a 10-month penitentiary sentence. He moves to Mexico and is forced to write his next 18 scripts under pen names. His story for 1956’s The Brave One wins an Oscar for actor Robert Rich, later revealed to be Trumbo himself, to the embarrassment of much of the industry. Kirk Douglas and Otto Preminger (born five days before Trumbo) insist Trumbo gets credit for his work on their 1960 films, Spartacus, and Exodus, which then are picketed by the American Legion to no avail. Trumbo in 1971 writes the screenplay for his great 1939 antiwar novel, Johnny Got His Gun, which he also directs. He dies of a heart attack in 1976, three years after surgery for lung cancer.


Also in 1905, the Industrial Workers of the World, a militantly aggressive union

nicknamed Wobblies (mentioned prominently toward the end of James Jomes’ From Here To Eternity, the best novel about the pre-WWII U.S. Army, and headed by Big Bill Haywood, is organized in Chicago. Five months after Bertha is born, an earthquake and fire destroy most of San Francisco on April 18, 1906. And two months after that, on June 22, 1906, in Vienna, is born director-screen-writer-producer Billy Wilder (real name: Samuel Wilder), who will enroll in the University of Vienna intending to study law, but leaves after a year to become a newspaper reporter, then goes to Berlin, flees to Paris when Hitler comes to pow-er (because Wilder is a Jew), thence to the U.S. via Mexico, where he arrives in Hollywood with little money and zero knowledge of English. He moves in with ac-tor Peter Lorre (real name: Laszlo Löwenstein; b. 1.26.1904; d. 1964) and barely scrapes along until his big break in 1938 collaborating with screenwriter Charles Brackett for a dozen years (and later with screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond). Aside from serving as a colonel and head of the Army’s Psychological Warfare Division in Germany in 1945 (take that, Hitler), he wins the best-director Oscar for 1945’s The Lost Weekend, with Ray Milland, shares an Oscar with Brackett for the screenplay for that same film, and they share another Oscar for 1950’s Sunset Boulevard.


Before that, Wilder works on 1943’s Five Graves To Cairo and 1944’s Double Indemnity, (this writer remembers both). with Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck (real name: Ruby Stevens) and later, among others, he produces, dir-ects and/or writes 1951’s The Big Carnival, with Kirk Douglas, 1953’s Stalag 17, 1955’s The Seven Year Itch, with Marilyn Monroe and Tom Ewell, 1957’s The Spirit of St. Louis and Love in the Afternoon, 1958’s Witness for the Prosecution, 1959’s Some Like It Hot, (regarded by many, including me, as the best comedy ever filmed, staring Tony Curtis (real name: Bernard Schwartz), Jack Lemmon, Marylyn Monroe, and Joe E. (Wide-Mouth) Brown: “Well, no-body’s perfect,”(tag line for Some Like It Hot). 1959’s Ben Hur, with then-liberal but later gun-nut Charlton Heston, 1960’s The Apartment, with Jack Lemmon, 1963’s Irma la Douce, and 1974’s Front Page. Wilder’s Double Indemnity is the sort of film about greed that reflects a side of life most people do not want to look at except briefly, like a deceased body in a coffin. That’s why, good as it is, no one ever said he or she loved it like Casablanca.


1905. When Adolph Hitler early in World War II rejected nuclear fission as “Jew-

ish physics” (see 1879, Albert Einstein’s birth year, above; also this entry for 19-05, Einstein’s breakout year as the creator of the Special Theory of Relativity), Hitler did not mean Einstein alone. Using Einstein’s E = mc2, German female phys-icist Lise Meitner first demonstrated nuclear fission in 1938 in her head, theore-tically, and Meitner also is Jewish. Brains are no respecter of gender, race, relig-ion, or even physical condition -- look at British genius Stephen Hawkings, wheelchair-bound and unable to speak except through a translator; the question on gender and race is whether a woman or a minority will be allowed the freedom of a Caucasian man to do creative work, and the answer in most cases is no. That will change. Slowly. The high-profile Einstein departed (got forced out of) Germany in 1933. By the time Meitner might have escaped, the Nazis would not permit her to go, but, because of Hitler’s blind prejudice against the Jews, neither would they allow her to continue her work. Hitler unquestionably proved to be a genius at motivating people, so he is a fine example how a genius can be dumb in areas where he is not a genius. A Dutch colleague illegally took Meitner back to Holland with him, but Meitner declined to become a part of America’s Manhattan Project, aimed at creating an atomic bomb. Some of the scientists who successfully worked on the bomb at Los Alamos -- “the weapon to end all wars,” people said, and earlier, people said the same about the cannon, the machine-gun and the tank -- later wished they hadn’t. According to my German dictionary, Einstein may stand for “a stone.” Ein in German is “a,” “an” or “one.” Stein is German literally means “stone.” A nickname for Albert is Bertie, and a few of Einstein’s friends ad-dressed him as Bertie. He became a U.S. citizen in 1940 and died in 1955.




Einstein as a junior examiner in the Swiss Patent Office in Bern in about 1906, a year after he wrote four scientific papers in a bit over three months, March 17 to June 30, 1905, including the Special Theory of Relativity with its stunning formula, E = mc2. Few noticed his papers until 1910, when world-renowned German physicist Max Planck praised them in a Planck book. Photos from Albert Einstein: A Biography, Albrecht Fölsing, translated from the German by Ewald Osers, Viking, 1997, 882 pages. Similarly, from November 1915 to February 1917, a period of 15 months, Einstein produced 15 scientific treatises, including two significant contributions to quantum theory and, above all, the brilliant culmination of the general theory of relativity and the foundations of a scientific cosmology in the light of newly discovered possibilities (Fölsing, p. 393.).



Einstein and his second wife, his first-cousin Elsa, in Berlin in 1921. They married on June 2, 1919. Einstein and Mileva’s divorce became official Feb. 14, 1919, 2-1/2 months earlier. Late in life, Einstein answered a stu-dent’s question about his first marriage (to Mileva) by saying it required more than he held strength to bear. The difficulty began no doubt with the differences in their famiilies’ religions. Einstein became the first in his Jewish family to marry outside the faith. Mileva’s family: Serbian Orthodox Christian. In addition, Einstein justifiably blamed heredity from Mileva’s family for his son Eduard’s schizophrenia. Mileva suffered from depression, and her sister also labored under the yoke of schizophrenia. Einstein viewed Eduard’s condition as incurable (Eduard remained institutionalized until his death in 1965 at age 55, 10 years after his father’s death. Einstein once calmly but truly described his and his son’s situation in cold terms: “Valuable individuals must not be sacrificed to hopeless things, not even in this instance,” Albrecht Fölsing’s book, p. 673. At least as important in the breakup of the first marriage is Einstein’s fame in 1919 after his prediction in 1916 that large bodies like the sun would bend light waves proved true in an eclipse in 1919. Women threw themselves at him, and he yielded to many of those entreaties.




Einstein with Hendrik Antoon Lorentz, Einstein’s scientific father figure. This photo and its site are undisclosed in Folsing’s biography of Einstein, but I will guess the date as the mid-to-late 1920s (Lorentz died Feb. 4, 1928, at age 64). Born July 18, 1853, in Arnheim, The Netherlands, Lorentz won of the second Nobel for physics in 1902. From the beginning of his career, he made the extension of James Clerk Maxwell’s theories of electricity and of light his focus. He worked on the reflection and refraction phenomena of light. Einstein, too, spent a large part of his youth fascinated with light. Lorentz’ fundamental work in the fields of optics and electricity revolutionized contemporary conceptions of the nature of matter. In 1878, he published an essay on the relation between the velocity of light in a medium and the density and composition of the medium. The resulting formula, proposed almost simultaneously by the Danish physicist Richard Lorenz, became known as the Lorenz-Lorentz Formula. On his first visit to the United States, in 1930 at age 51, Einstein named four men who laid the foundation of physics on which he constructed his theories: Galileo, Newton, Maxwell, and Lorentz (p. 211, Fölsing). In late life, Einstein said of Lorentz, “To me personally, he meant more than all the others I encountered during my life.” Also in 1930 (this writer’s birth year), on Dec. 14, Einstein told the New History Society in New York City that “under the present military system any person can be compelled to commit murder in the name of his country [p. 635, Fölsing].” He urged “uncompro-mising opposition,” meaning refusal of military service. “If even two percent of those called up declare that they will not serve, and simultaneously demand that all international conflicts be settled in a peaceful manner, governments would be powerless,” he said. “Two Percent” buttons appeared on the breasts of many young Americans in the streets and on campuses. “Two Percent” became the Magna Carta of militant pacifism.




Lisa Meitner, in the only photograph I could find of her, in Day One: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984. The book’s cutline says, “Berlin, 1938: Otto Hahn discovers a phenomenon he can’t explain. Lise Meitner tells him he split the atom.” Another source says Meitner herself first split the atom, in her head, theoretically, in the same year, 1938. Some chauvinists will wonder how a woman could be capable of that.


PBS’s NOVA program on Nov. 12, 2005, explored the possibility that Germany might have developed an atomic bomb before the Allies did. Answer: No. Early persecutors of Jews in the Nazi regime harassed Germany’s best nuclear physicist, Werner Karl Heisenberg (1901-1975) as a “White Jew” for teaching the theories of Einstein in contrast with the Nazi-sanctioned Deutsche Physik movement. After a character investigation that Heisenberg himself instigated and passed, Secret Service chief Heinrich Himmler banned any further political attacks on Heisenberg, who probably did trace back to some Jewish ancestry, but he belonged to a church with a faith of Lutheran-Calvinistic mixture, Evangelisehe Kirche.

At the beginning of World War II, instead of drafting Heisenberg into the Army, the German government assigned him to the Army Weapons Bureau (Heeresaffenamt) in Berlin. In 1939, he said, “For the present I believe the war will be over long before the first atom bomb is built.” But he headed an effort to derive plutonium in a process involving “heavy water” from Norway. He never got enough heavy water to come close to succeeding in that effort.



Einstein and J Robert Oppenheimer in about 1947, when Einstein would have been 68 and Oppenheimer 43. Born April 22, 1904, precisely 12 months prior to the middle of Einstein’s prolific three-month period when he wrote and got published four scientific papers in the spring of 1905, Oppenheimer headed the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos and here is director of Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Studies, where Einstein taught. Einstein’s 1905 papers included his Special Theory of Relativity, in which he first used what today is the most famous formula in the world: E = mc2. The “J” in Oppenheimer’s name apparently is an initial only (so it shouldn’t take a period after it). His father Julius first intended to name him only Robert Oppenheimer, “but, feeling that this lacked distinction, added the initial of his first name at the front -- J Robert Oppenheimer,” J Robert Oppenheimer: Shatterer of Worlds, Peter Goodchild, From International Publishing Corporation, New York, 1985, pp. 301, p. 11, another book I bought at a Los Alamos bookstore in 1997. Shatterer of Worlds is from a Sanskrit poem Oppenheimer reportedly quoted after the first atomic bomb explosion on July 16, 1945, at Trinity Site near Alamogordo NM. In recent years, we learned what he actually said: “It works.”


Albert Einstein and Israeli Premier David Ben Gurion at Princeton University, 1951. After the death of Israeli President Chaim Wetzmann, Ben Gurion came to America to offer Einstein the presidency. Einstein, not a religious Jew but a huge supporter of Israel and “my people,” murdered by the millions by Nazis, turned it down because he knew he lacked the political skills of giveandtake to be effective in that arena.


Einstein’s opinion of the unredeemable German character echoes the opinion of Goethe (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (GUR-tah), 1749-1832, the German renaissance man, their Shakespeare genius, their Mark Twain genius -- who said of Germans: “So estimable in the individual, so wretched in the mass.” Re-markably, that quote is not in Bartlett’s’ or the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, each of which gives other Goethe quotes, the most endearing of which to me, aside from the one on the Germans, are (Oxford), “Without haste, but without rest,” and (Bartlett’s), “A true German can’t stand the French, yet willingly drinks their wines,” and, “Doubt grows with knowledge.” Usually one loses something in translation, but it is hard to image Goethe’s German doing a better job than “So estimable in the individual, so wretched in the mass.” Indeed, I have seen a translation that uses “in the generality” instead of “in the mass,” The second obviously is superior. As for his comment about the French, one might say no one but the French themselves can stand those snooty bastards, but we willingly drink their cognac. Indeed, some of us feel toward the French district of Cognac the way Henry Kissinger did about Middle East oil more than 40 years ago -- we can’t allow them to control it. Most famous for his Faust, Goethe ranked high as a poet, novelist, playwright, scientist and natural philosopher. Like Emilie du Châtelet above (also see third paragraph under 1905 that begins with Adolph Hitler), Goethe disagreed with an opinion of Newton, this time on his theory of light. Einstein, of course, destroyed everyone’s ideas (except in ordinary physics) regarding light.

Einstein did not burst forth without considerable help from earlier scientists. As we learned from the NOVA program on PBS Oct. 10, 2005, French physicist Antoine Lavoiser (1743-1794) proposed that nature is a closed system, that nothing disappears with its “destruction,” and nothing is gained in the changed form of matter through, for example, fire. The mass remaining after transformation, together with the weight of the ashes and gases created by fire, for example, weighs exactly what the original mass weighed. He proved his theory through precise measurements. There is reason to think Lavoiser’s wife knew as much about his work as he did. Unfortunately, the Terror (the rabble) after the French Revolution remembered Lavoiser as a taxcollector and an aristocrat, and guillotined him in 1794.

Even before Lavoiser, in the early 18th century, another French citizen, this time a woman (here is an example of real genius manifesting itself despite gender prejudice), Emilie du Châtelet, fascinated by Isaac Newton’s Principia Mathematica (1687), translated that monumental work on motion into French (it still is the standard translation). But Du Châtelet came to think Newton committed a major error. At a time when every scholar worshipped Newton, Du Châtelet promoted the work of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716), who contemporaneously with Newton invented the differential and integral calculus, said when the speed of an object increases (as with a ball being dropped from twice the height) its impact is not doubled, as Newton held, but quadrupled (or squared). A car moving 20 mph, for example, may take a certain time to stop. But if it goes 60 mph, it does not take three times as long to stop, but nine times. Leibniz’ idea is the father more than 150 years later in the “squared” portion of Einstein’s E = mc2.

Du Châtelet married a general at 16 and bore him three children. She indulged in many affairs, including a long one with a much older Voltaire (1694-1778), France’s greatest poet (real name: François-Marie Arouet). Du Châtelet’s husband knew of the affair with Voltaire and not only did not object, he supported Voltaire in his fights against the French monarchy. But Voltaire, like other Enlightenment scholars, disagreed with Du Châte-let’s conviction Leibneiz corrected Newton on one aspect of Newton’s view of motion. Du Châtelet got pregnant a fourth time at age 42. A young soldier sired the child. Days after giving birth, Du Châtelet suffered an embolism and died at 42 in 1749 (b. Dec. 17, 1706; d. Sept. 10, 1749). Despite her own scientific papers, other achievements and her eventually successful, support for Leibniz’ work, gender prejudice manifests itself in our own time with the omission of an entry for her in Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate [Desk] Encyclopedia, Springfield, Massachusetts, 2000. She is mentioned, however, in the entry on Voltaire (with Voltaire’s photo). Even after her death, Voltaire got it wrong. He said, ”She was a great man in a woman’s body.” How about her being a great woman in a woman’s body?

I pause here for this sidebar. On Oct. 25, 2005, I heard a female announcer on Austin’s KMFA-FM Radio, our classical-music station, talking about a male composer in the early 19th century, not one of the famous ones, noting, she did, at the end that he left us with many fine compositions. Yet I couldn’t help but think we missed double the output of all our great composers because women in centuries past lacked the same opportunity to contribute their musical genius to our hoard. This, too, like the poetry and the barbarism, is part of our legacy from Old Testament times and others that suppressed women.


English physicist and chemist Michael Faraday (1791-1867) also contributed to Einstein’s later success. A blacksmith’s son, Faraday received only a basic education in a church Sunday school. He went to work for Sir Humphrey Davy and demonstrated an effect between electricity and magnetism (which Davy later falsely claimed Davy did). Faraday suggested the effect of magnetism on light. He also invented the first electric motor and dynamo. Faraday lacked the mathematical skills to prove his theories, but his student, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell (1831-1879), proved them and he himself contributed to Einstein’s work by demonstrating that light (an obsession of Einstein) is an electromagnetic wave. Maxwell originated the concept of electromagnetic radiation.

Among his other accomplishments, Maxwell’s ideas formed the basis for the later quantum mechanics (that the tiniest particles do not follow Newtonian physics) in which Danish physicist Niels Bohr (1885-1962) flourished and differed with Einstein in a long, friendly debate Bohr eventually won (Bohr also won the Nobel Prize for physics in 1922, one year after Einstein won it, and Bohr worked, as did 10 other men who won or would win a Nobel Prize at Los Alamos, New Mexico, in the successful creation of the atomic bomb).


Einstein himself suffered from prejudice, against the idea that God would permit a science, quantum mechanics, to behave in such a weird way (or that God would “play dice” with the universe). Not a religious man (which would anger Christian fundamentalists), Einstein’s work arguably led to the saving of a million American lives and an equal if not greater number of Japanese. In Albert Einstein: A Biography, Albrecht Fölsing, translated from the German by Ewald Osers, Viking, 1997, Fölsing notes on p. 273 that when Einstein applied for a job in the Swiss patent office, he could not get away with his usual description of himself as “without religious denomination” on application forms or official questionnaires. When told the Swiss government would not accept that, “he simply declared that he was a Jew, whereupon ‘Mosaic’ got entered on the form.” Incidentally, Bohr, after Los Alamos, listened to a young physicist (physicists seem to do their best work in their 20s -- Einstein aged 25 in 1905) and spoke up from the audience to discount the young physicist’s theory, saying, “It’s not weird enough.”

Dustjacket cover of Albrecht Fölsing’s 882-page biography or Albert Einstein, translated from the German by Ewald Osers, Viking Press, Penguin Group, New York, 1997.


An indifferent student except in the areas of physics, mathematics and a couple of other subjects (about which he knew more than his teachers), Einstein, unable to secure recommendations from his teachers, worked as a junior examiner in a Swiss patent office in Bern in 1902, a boring job he performed with his left hand while working on his Theory of Special Relativity, which he published in 1905 to no acclaim. Only when world-renowned physicist Max Planck (Nobel for physics in 1918) a few years later (in a Planck book in 1910) began pushing Einstein’s papers, and only then did the scientific world take notice. Planck formulated the quantum theory of radiation, for which he later won the Nobel.


Astronomers proved that portion of Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity (earliest paper: Spring of 1913) dealing with time and space, in which he predicted light waves would bend around massive objects. In a May 29, 1919, eclipse of the sun, the light of a star known to be barely behind the sun during the eclipse (the only time astronomers can study objects near the line of sight to the sun) curved around the sun and reached the earth. Definitive, confirmation photos did not show the truth of his prediction until November of 1919. The news became public on Nov. 6 in London. Suddenly, Einstein became world famous. Einstein regarded his general theory of relativity as being of “incomparable beauty” and the studies leading to that “the most valuable discovery of my life” (Fölsing, p. 374).


Earlier results from the 1919 eclipse proved inconclusive as to Einstein’s prediction, but another seemed to confirm it, and Einstein latched onto the second one when he exulted to a graduate student (Ilsa Rosenthal-Schneider) about it. And what if his theory proved untrue? Einstein replied, “In that case I’d have to feel sorry for God, because the theory is correct.” (Fölsing, pp. 439 and 790, footnote 23). This quote also may be taken as a comment on his lack of reverence for theology.

Regrettably, the same year, 1919, Einstein and his wife, nee Mileva Maric, divorced. Some have argued that Mileva contributed to Einstein’s work. She is known to have checked his mathematics on at least one occasion (later, for his general theory of relativity a decade after his paper on the special theory of relativity, Einstein used the work of mathematician and friend Marcel Grossman -- Fölsing, p. 314). Einstein married his firstcousin Elsa Löwenthal (her married surname, but she, too, got divorced, with two daughters, and went back to her unmarried surname: Einstein) in the same year, 1919. His fame led many women to seek him out, and he, like Du Châtelet, nearly two centuries earlier, indulged in many affairs. Many years later, at Princeton, a student asked what he thought about marriage between Jews and non-Jews (Mileva and her family professed a Serbian Orthodox Christian faith), Einstein said, “That’s dangerous -- but then any marriage is dangerous” (Fölsing, p. 428).


Einstein won the Nobel Prize for physics in 1922, not for his theories of relativity but for his discovery of the photo-electric effect, which says a light quantum (now called a photon) “penetrates like a minute [tiny] missile into a metal, there encounters an electron, and transfers its whole energy to that electron,” Albert Einstein: A Biography, Albrecht Fölsing, translated from the German by Ewald Osers, Viking, 1997, pp. 144-145. I bought a copy of this 882-page book in 1997 at a bookstore in Los Alamos.


Gradually it dawned on the scientific community that E = mc2 contained a truth of tremendous import. The speed of light, is known to be approximately 670 million miles an hour. If one multiplied a mass times light squared, that meant the total equaled a gigantic energy. The easiest way to see this is to reverse the equation: mc2 = E. “M” is for mass, which is not merely the weight of something but, since Einstein, must always be viewed as varying in quantity depending on its velocity (movement). “C” stands for the Latin word for “swiftness” (light): Celeritas.


If light travels at 670 million miles an hour (it takes the light of the sun, 93 million miles from us, eight minutes to reach the earth), and you multiply that figure times itself, and then times the mass, the resulting figure is almost inconceivably huge, and that number equals the energy that would be released if one split an atom of the mass. Ordinary substances contain within themselves enormous energy available to anyone who can release it. I remember reading a newspaper story in 1945 after the bombing of Hiroshima that a glass of water contained enough energy to power a battleship around the world.


Normally not one to pronounce a rigid law, Einstein stated that nothing could exceed the speed of light. Even time slows down as it approaches the speed of light, and mass would become infinitely large at that speed. Einstein questioned assumptions. His coun-terintuitive approach demonstrated his genius. But he left a marker in physics (the “unexceedable” speed of light) for later physicists to shoot at. Interest focused on the heavy element uranium, because it contains 238 protons and 238 neutrons (thus the name Uranium 238). Meitner talked in the 1930s about bombarding the nucleus of a uranium atom with another neutron. That turned out to be the key to splitting the uranium atom and producing enormous energy. At the urging of several physicists, including Leo Szilard and Enrico Fermi, obviously not as well known as he, Einstein, agreed early in 1939 to write a letter to his “dear friend,” Queen Elizabeth of Belgium, which held impressive deposits of uranium in the Congo. After that, Szilard, Fermi and others thought Einstein should write to President Franklin Roosevelt urging him to seek the atomic bomb to beat the Nazis to it. Although an ardent passivist, Einstein did write the letter (dated Aug. 2, 1939), one day short of a month before Hitler invaded Poland on Sept. 1, 1939. The rest, as they say, is history. Before that, on Dec. 10, 1938, Fermi accepted the Nobel Prize for physics. That still left Fermi well short of Einstein in world scientific stature to Einstein. Fermi declined to return to fascist Italy (Mussolini) and instead took a professorship at Columbia University in New York City. Fermi would remember musing as he looked out of his office window at Columbia that splitting a uranium atom by smashing another uranium neutron into a uranium atom could be expected to release two neutrons, which in turn could each split another uranium nucleus, etc., creating a chain reaction. A single fission bomb would destroy all that Fermi could see of New York from that window, he thought. Fermi and others achieved a chain reaction in 1943 beneath the former football stadium of the University of Chicago, which quit playing football in 1939. The Manhattan Project then moved to Los Alamos.



Hungarian physicist Leo Szilard, as a younger man. Photo from Peter Wyden’s Day One: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984. The cutline in the book says he “was the first to think that an A-bomb was possible.”




Leo Szilard, 1949, after President Truman announced the Soviets possessed an atomic bomb. Photo from Peter Wyden’s Day One: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984.



Italian physicist Enrico Fermi, who together with Szilard, persuaded Einstein to write a letter to Franklin Roosevelt a month before the start of WWII, asking that an investigation of atomic power be undertaken. Photo from Peter Wyden’s Day One: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984.

No famous person in history, save possibly Jesus, if his life is accurately reported, exceeded Einstein in opposition to war. On Dec. 14, 1930, Einstein told the New History Society in New York City “under the present military system any person can be compelled to commit murder in the name of his country.” He added a solution: “uncompromising opposition” -- civil disobedience. That is, “refusal of military service.” Then came his most controversial statement: “If even two percent of those called up declare that they will not serve, and simultaneously demand that all international conflicts be settled in a peaceful manner, governments would be powerless.” Many young Americans in the streets and on campuses wore buttons with the provocative slogan “Two Percent,” and everyone knew what that meant (p. 635, Fölsing).


To cite a Heard connection, my brother Wyatt, as an FBI agent in the early 1950s, interviewed Einstein “three or four times” between late 1952 and May of 1953 at the Princeton Institute for Advanced Study. The interviews regarded security clearance for persons seeking to do nuclear research. The interviews lasted 15 or 20 minutes. Einstein cooperated fully. Keep in mind that Republican Sen. Joe McCarthy of Wisconsin dominated national news during this period with his reckless charges about communists in the government.


Mathematician John von Neumann invited FBI agent Wyatt Heard to afternoon tea at the Princeton’s Institutefor Advanced Study in 1953. Photo from Peter Wyden’s DAY ONE: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984.

Wyatt also remembers interviewing Hungarian mathematician John von Neumann at the Institute so many times that Von Neumann addressed him by his first name, once saying, “Wyatt, we have tea here at the Institute about this time [mid-afternoon]. Would you like to come?” Yes. Wyatt went and remembers hearing the director of the Institute, J Robert Oppenheimer (called “Oppie” by the others), noting that they would hear from “Albert” on this day. Everyone looked at the bushy-browed Einstein, who appeared to be asleep in his chair. No one wanted to go over and touch him. Nearly a full minute passed. Finally, Einstein lifted his head and began speaking in his guttural German accent. One sentence forever sticks in Wyatt’s mind: “We know so little.” Wyatt remembers thinking, “If you know so little, what does that say about the rest of us?” Wyatt recalls that every brilliant person he met at the Institute proved to be humble. All of them knew what they did not know.


Although praised by radium-discoverer Marie Currie for being so young and hav-ing so many more years to contribute to theoretical physics, Einstein is quoted in Fölsing’s book, p. 412, as saying, “Anything really new is invented only in one’s youth. Later one becomes more experienced, more famous -- and more stupid.”


This reminds me of an insight that occurred to me some years ago. No one knows better than Hollywood stars (and even famous directors) how lucky they are to be famous and adored. Indeed, I imagine they often wonder why “normal” people hold such affection for them when they are just humans themselves. Best examples I can think of at the moment: John Wayne and Ward Bond (two University of Southern California football linemen who worked as scenery movers in Hollywood before being “discovered,” and Harrison Ford, who started out as a carpenter on Hollywoods sets; moral: get any job in Hollywood and hope to catch someone’s eye. Von Neumann enrolled at the University of Hungary at age 14 and in four years acquired several degrees, including doctorates in chemistry and mathematics. That’s at age 19, when most college students are in their sophomore years.


Von Neumann at 29 wrote on a chalkboard at Los Alamos (as a frequent visitor/ consultant there) the formula for building a computer, and he used that formula to build the first computer, which Wyatt saw at the Institute and describes it as being large enough to fill a small room. Wyatt asked if someone could tell him in layman’s terms about the computer. A young mathematician at the Institute named Goldsmith, later to teach at the University of Chicago, began explaining the computer, quickly outdistancing Wyatt’s limited mathematical knowledge. Like nearly everyone, except really brilliant persons, Wyatt says he thought at 25 he knew quite a bit when in reality he knew squat. I told him that reminded me of a story Mark Twain related about how dumb he thought his father to be when Twain aged 14. The great writer recalled his amazement at age 21 at how much his father learned in seven years.


At Los Alamos, everyone thought of Von Neumann, later founder of game theory, as a genius. At age six, Von Neumann could divide one eight-digit number by another entirely in his head, according to Day One: Before Hiroshima and After, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1984, footnote on p. 104. Wyatt also remembers being invited to a party at Von Neumann’s home, where the latter performed a parlor trick. He would hand someone a folder with 100 to 200 pages of names, addresses and phone numbers, 45 to 50 lines to a page. That person selected a page and handed it to Von Neumann, who would study it for 60 seconds, then hand it back. Von Neumann then recited the entire page. Asked how he could remember all that data, he said he didn’t remember it, that his mind took a picture of it, and he merely read the picture. So there is such a thing as a photographic memory. Von Neumann said he would not be able to do the same thing several days later unless someone asked him to do it fairly close to the time he did it the first time. Among other memories from that time for Wyatt: Institute mathematician and physicist Eugene Wigner (pronounced Vigner), the last person to be ranked as a world class physicist and also a world class mathematician, named his son Albert (after guess who). Wyatt politely asked the 6-year-old kid if he wanted to grow up to be a physicist like his dad. “Absolutely not.” Why? “If perchance you’ve ever known one, the answer is obvious.” Equally “obvious,” Albert von Neumann reflected an intelligence well beyond his years. How far ahead? At six, he studied calculus at home, then went to grade school for other things. Wyatt remembers the University of Chicago offered a program for precocious kids, but one needed to be 14 to get in. I Googled Wigner but found only one reference to his son, named David (maybe David Albert?), who teaches mathematics at Berkeley.


Wyatt also heard this story about Hungarian physicist Leo Szilard (who together with Italian physicist Enrico Fermi persuaded Einstein to write a letter to Franklin Roosevelt a month before Hitler invaded Poland -- Sept. 1, 1939 -- urging investigation of splitting the atom (before the Nazis) and producing a weapon of enormous power. In London immediately before WWII, Szilard would take hot, hot baths in the morning, where ideas flooded his brain, and he would go straight to the patent office to record them. Once, he stepped off a curb and in that instant it came to him that an atomic chain reaction could be created. This sounds a lot like Newton and the apple. Wyatt does not remember asking Einstein about Oppenheimer regarding security. “Oppie” later lost his security clearance to work in federal nuclear physics research. We know that Oppenheimer’s wife flirted with the Communist Party in the 1930s, joining, then canceling her membership, but no one other than rightwing extremists believe Oppenheimer himself ever joined. Which itself is a bit odd, because 90 percent of the intellectuals in this country leaned leftward in the 1930s, before we learned about Stalin’s murders and that the Soviet claims of universal education and health care largely amounted to mere propaganda. This truism about our intellectuals in the 1930s reminds me of a great Humphrey Bogart quote. He admitted to someone to being drunk in the wee hours of the morning. Asked to repeat that, that he’d been drunk at 3 a.m., Bogart added, “Isn’t everybody?”

One more story about Einstein that Wyatt heard from evangelist Billy Graham at a funeral in North Carolina earlier in 2005. Graham, 83, admitted his memory some at times failed him, but that didn’t mean he’s totally lost his mental ability. We don’t know where Graham got this story, but it sounds right. A regular commuter by train from Princeton to New York City, Einstein once fumbled around in his large overcoat for his ticket when asked for it by the conductor. The conductor hastened to tell him he knew Einstein to be a regular rider and he did not have to produce his ticket. Later, the conductor returned to the same car and found Einstein down on his knees looking for his ticket under his seat. The conductor reminded him he did not have to find his ticket. Einstein replied, “Mr. Conductor, I need my ticket to tell me where I’m going.”


Einstein’s celebrity lasted through the 20th century and beyond, but his standing among physicists barely survived 1920. As noted, Einstein did not want to believe God played dice with the universe, but quantum mechanics suggested just that, and Niels Bohr and others left Einstein behind by the 1920s as they sought to understand why the tiniest pieces of matter did not follow any rules, but behaved chaotically. Still, Einstein worked futilely to the end of his life in 1955 trying to join the four known forces, gravity, electro-magnetism, something called the Large Force, and something called the Small Force, into one coherent whole. In the latter half of the 20th century, physicists got excited about String Theory, which postulated that the smallest elements were tiny strings of vibrating energy. How tiny? If an atom stood the size of the solar system, a string would be only as large as a single tree, according to physicist and writer Brian Greene on a three-hour PBS NOVA program Dec. 12, 2005. Einstein’s general theory of relativity explains how large matter behaves -- stars, planets and galaxies. String Theory explains how the tiniest particles behave. The challenge is to come up with a theory that explains both at the same time.


String theory held thrall for a few decades, then faded, because no one could figure how to test the theory or even to see something that small. But interest renewed in the 1970s until some suggested there may be five string theories, and some said there must be more than the three standard dimensions (up-down, left-right, backward-forward, plus time) A physicist named Ed Witten came along in 1995 and said only one String Theory exists, and other physicists merely viewed it five different ways. Witten also said there must be 11 dimensions, even suggesting there might be parallel universes. Others still object to a theory that could not be tested, calling it philosophy, not science.



I hear several someones out there in the reading audience who want to substitute “God” for “philosophy” in that last sentence. Postulating a God or divine inteligence does nothing to further the investigation. There may be one. No one knows. But saying for sure there is one merely places a mystery between us and the mystery we already know about. We’d still have to answer the question: How did God create the strings, and to what purpose or end? Many educated persons who know their conviction about the existence of a divine intelligence is a matter of faith and not science subscribe to the theory of Evolution to explain how God created the world and the animals that inhabit it.


Anyway, String Theory enthusiasts claim their theory does what Einstein hoped to do -- bring the four forces into a coherent whole. We may never know, or at least not for some years.

1906, the year German neuropathologist Alois Alzheimer describes a disease similar to but separate from senility. The disease is named for him.


[There are no major family dates in 1907 [or 1906] but it is huge for the world of enter- tainment, so I make the following entry.]

1907 -- May 22, actor (Sir) Laurence Olivier (oh-LIVE-ee-ay) is born in Dorking, Surrey, England, and will be nominated for Oscars 11 times, winning for 1944’s Henry V and 1948’s Hamlet. Other notable Olivier films include 1939’s Wuthering Heights and 1940’s Rebecca. He dies in 1989. Four days later, on May 26 in Winterset, Iowa, is born actor John “Duke” Wayne (real name: Marion Michael Morrison), who will make 250 films but win an Oscar only after getting it right late in life, for 1969’s True Grit, in which he essentially does a superb John Wayne. To his credit, Wayne notes he ought to have learned something in 50 years. The award is a sentimental one to honor a man whose career did much for the industry at the box-office. What an amazing coin- cidence that one of the greatest actors, if not the greatest, Olivier, and a tough-talking blowhard lacking the guts to fight for his country in WWII (being macho is much different when the other guy fires real bullets back at you) are born four days apart. Wayne could have been perfect in a takeoff on an old Holiday Inn TV commercial: “I’m not a real sol- dier, but I play one in the movies.” Interestingly, his USC buddy, Ward Bond, appeared more times, seven, than any other actor in one list of the top 100 movies ever. Late in the previous year, 1906, which contains no Heard milestones, on Dec. 6 in Clinton MA, is born actress Agnes Moorehead, who earns five Oscar nominations. She dies of lung cancer in 1974.


Two weeks after Wayne’s birth, on June 7, is born actress Jessica Tandy, in London. After a lifetime of stage and screen success, including a Tony for playing Blanche duBois opposite Marlon Brando in the Broadway production of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire, (plus two other Tonys, 1978’s Gin Game and 1982’s Fox- fire) Tandy will, in her eighties, win the best-actress Oscar for 1989’s Driving Miss Daisy and be nominated for best-supporting actress for 1991’s Fried Green Tomatoes. Married to actor Jack Hawkins, from 1932 to 1940, she marries actor Hume Cronyn in 1942, which marriage lasts until her death in 1994. On July 16 actress Barbara Stan- wyck (real name: Ruby Stevens) is born in Brooklyn and will be nominated for Oscars four times, for 1937’s Stella Dallas, 1942’s Ball of Fire, 1944’s Double Indemnity, and 1948’s Sorry, Wrong Number, but never wins. In 1981 she receives an Oscar for life achievement. She also wins three Emmys. Stanwyck dies in 1990. Actress Fay Wray, who will star in 1933’s King Kong, is born on Sept. 10 in Alberta, Canada (but grows up in Los Angeles). In a film career from 1919 to 1942, she stars in more than 74 movies. She celebrates her 93rd birthday in 2000. On Sept. 29 in Tioga TX, is born sing- er/actor Gene Autry, The Singing Cowboy, who will make millions on investments, including ownership of the California Angels baseball team.


Born Nov. 9 in Hartford CT is actress Katharine Hepburn, who will win a record four Oscars (1933’s Morning Glory, then wins acclaim in 1933’s Little Women, after which she returns to Broadway only to be panned by writer Dorothy Parker for “running the gambit of emotions from A to B.” This reminds me of a famous quote (I don’t know who said it) about critics: “They are the people who come down from the hills after the battle and shoot the wounded.” Having said that, Parker may have been right about Hepburn in the early 1930s. Not until 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner will Hepburn win her second Oscar, then takes her third for 1968’s The Lion in Winter, with Peter O’Toole, tying with Barbra Streisand (Funny Girl); and she gets her fourth for 1981’s On Gol- den Pond, with Henry Fonda, who also wins the Oscar). Golden Pond also stars Fon- da’s daughter Jane Fonda, who wins an Oscar nomination for the film (having already won two best-actress Oscars, for 1971’s Klute, and 1978’s Coming Home; she is crit- icized by many Vietnam veterans for her visit to Hanoi in 1972; many of her fans think she should have won for either of her 1979 films, The Electric Horseman, with Robert Redford, or The China Syndrome, with Jack Lemmon). Hepburn teams with Spencer Tracy in nine films, beginning with 1942’s Woman of the Year. Hepburn considers Tracy the all-time best film actor (as did Olivier, who said, “I’ve learned more about acting from watching Tracy than in any other way. He has great truth in everything he does”). Tracy wins back-to-back Oscars for 1937’s Captains Courageous and 1938’s Boys- town, with Mickey Rooney, but thereafter refuses to be considered for an Oscar, sharing the later opinion of George C. Scott, who becomes the first actor to decline a best-actor Oscar after it is announced for his lifetime role in 1970’s Patton. Tracy and Scott denounced the Oscars as a popularity contest with zero connection with the craftsmanship of acting.


Nevertheless, the Academy nominates Tracy seven other times, six times after he denigrated the award (1950’s Father of the Bride, 1955’s Bad Day at Black Rock, 1958’s The Old Man and the Sea, 1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuemberg; the other nomination came in 1936’s San Francisco). Tracy, a Catholic, never divorces his wife, former stage actress Louise Treadwell, although they lived separately for years, and he and Hepburn continue their affair until his death in 1967, only a couple of weeks after finishing Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner; Hepburn and Tracy’s wife stand beside Tracy’s deathbed. Tracy and Treadwell, wed in 1923, sired a deaf child and established a foundation for deaf children. Scandalmongers respected Tracy’s and Hepburn’s privacy but earlier criticized him for an interlude with actress Loretta Young in the early 1930s. Tracy’s succinct advice to young actors: “Know your lines and try not to bump into the furniture.” Perhaps the all-time favorite movie actress, Hepburn plays opposite arguably the all-time favorite male actor, Humphrey Bogart, only once, in 1951’s The African Queen, for which he won his only Oscar. Late in life, Hepburn got a call from Jane Fonda, the latter told a late-night host, and noted she, Hepburne, won four Oscars, whie Fonda won onlytwo, and added, “You’ll never catch me now.” For the record,let me say I think Fonda is a better ctress than Hepburne ever proved to be. I think Fonda should have won for Electric Horseman and China Syndrome, which would tie her with Hepburne, with more movies to come, and none of them in the early 1930s.

1908, Jan. 12, Lucille Long Heard (Daniel Webster Heard’s wife) is born two

days after actor Paul Henreid (real name: Paul George Julius von Henreid) is born in Trieste. He is best remembered as Ingrid Bergman’s husband in 1943’s Casablanca, with Humphrey Bogart. Henreid dies in 1992. Hungarian physicist Edward Teller, called the father of the H-Bomb, is born on Jan. 15; he dies at 951/2 on September 9, 2003. Teller immigrates to the United States in 1935. He celebrates his 97th birthday in 2005. On July 12 in New York City is born comedian Milton Berle (real name: Milton Berlinger), who will dominate the early years of television, 1948-1956, and become known as “Mr. Television,” or “Uncle Miltie.” On May 20 in Indiana PA, actor James Stewart is born. Stewart wins an Oscar for best actor in 1940’s Philadelphia Story, and will be nominated three more times for the best-actor Oscar (1940’s Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, 1947’s It’s a Wonderful Life -- his favorite film and the one he probably is best remembered for, because it appeared on TV at Christmastime until recent years, having escaped private ownership and entered the public domain -- and 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder). He wins a life-achievement award from the American Film Institute in 1980. After flying 20 missions over Germany in WWII, Stewart stars in several outstanding movies, including 1948’s Rope, 1950’s Harvey, 1954’s The Glenn Miller Story and Rear Window, 1957’s The Spirit of St. Louis, and 1958’s Vertigo. His third movie, 1936’s Rose Marie, with Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy, is the first movie this writer remembers, in Jonesboro AR, probably in 1937. Stewart dies in 1997.


On Sept. 29 in County Down, Ireland, is born actress Greer Garson, who will be nomi- nated six times for Oscars (including for 1939’s Goodbye Mr. Chips, 1943’s Madam Curie, and 1960’s Sunrise at Campobello, and wins a best-actress Oscar for 1942’s Mrs. Miniver. (German propaganda czar Joseph Goebbles called Mrs. Miniver superb propaganda and sought to duplicate it with a German film but failed. Two days after Garson is born, on Oct. 1, Henry Ford introduced his Model T with a stiff price tag of $850, but mass production will cut it to $310 by 1926. Unknown to many later-generation Americans, Ford is a rabid anti-Semite, at one time publishing a tabloid newspaper with those views. He also got invited to Germany by Hitler in the1930s.


1908, March 5, Daniel Webster Heard, seventh child, fifth son of WHH and MECH, is

born in Reagan Wells TX. Dan becomes the cutup of the family. He will drive cars an un- heard-of 60 miles an hour on country roads. Once, he told the kid of another member of the family to look at a particular star at night. When the kid says he sees it, Dan says, “That star has been there as long as I can remember.” Dan possessed the negatives of the family taken in April 1917 and gave them to this writer, knowing I would use them. He feared his sisters would hate to see them wearing then-fashionable headbands (Bessie did). I in turn got my wife Betsy to perform darkroom magic on the negatives to lighten them. The same day Danis born, actor (Sir) Rex Harrison (real name: Reginald Cary Harrison) is born in Hayton, England. Harrison wins an Oscar for his role as Professor Henry Higgins in 1964’s My Fair Lady, with Audrey Hepburn, probably the best musical ever filmed. He dies in 1990. A month earlier, movie-actress Bette Davis (real name: Ruth Elizabeth Davis) is born in Lowell MA. Davis will win two best-actress Oscars (for 1935’s Dangerous and 1938’s Jezebel) and receive eight other nominations, mainly for playing herself superbly well (like John Wayne). Oskar Schindler, who will save 1,100 Jews from the Holocaust, is born April 28 in Zwittau, in the Movarian Province of Austria. Schindler dies in 1974 in Frankfurt, where he is shunned by neighbors for his friendship with Jews. A man with a similar view of life is born Dec. 31, 1908, Simon Wiesenthal, who hunts and finds Nazis for decades after World War II. Wiesenthal celebrates his 93rd birthday in 2001. He dies Sept. 20, 2005, three months short of his 98th birthday. On May 31 in Kenosha, Wisconsin, is born actor Don Ame che (real name: Dominic Felix Amici), who will make more than 40 movies, mostly in the 1930s and 1940s, and then get a rare second chance at celluloid stardom in 1985’s Cocoon, which fetches the Oscar for best-supporting actor. Half a year later, on Oct. 6, Austria annexes Bosnia and Herzegovina in the continuing turmoil in the Balkans that will start World War I with an assassination. The unquenchable thirst for bloodshed in Bosnia will precipitate NATO bombardment of the Serbs beginning March 24, 1999, in an effort to stop the Serbs (Slavic Orthodox Christians) from “ethnic cleansing” of Kosovo Albanians (Muslims). Lyndon Baines Johnson is born on what later became the Johnson Ranch near Stonewall, Texas, on Aug. 27, 1908. He becomes a master politician as the U.S. Senate majority leader, then vice president under John Kennedy, and succeeds Kennedy after the latter’s assassination by Lee Harvey Oswald on Nov. 22, 1963. Johnson dies Jan. 22, 1973.

On Nov. 3, Republican William Howard Taft defeats Democrat William Jennings Bryan for the presidency 7,679,006 votes to 6,409,106. Born on Nov. 18 is actress/comedienne Imogene Coca, who will star in Sid Caesar’s TV Your Show of Shows in the 1950s. She celebrated her 92nd birthday in 2000, and dies before she is 93. Economist and historian John Kenneth Galbraith is born on Oct. 15. A tall man (6-7), he turns 97 in 2005; he dies April 29, 2006, four and a half months before his 98th birthday. Galbraith is the only person this writer saw debate William F. Buckley and beat him (Buckley regularly whipped up on other liberals in TV debates, including Gore Vidal and David Suskind). On Nov. 20, Britisher Alistair Cooke is born. Cooke will come to America as a young man, become an American historian/writer and urbane introducer of dramatizations of British and America literature on National Public Broadcasting System. Sometime in 1908, the president of Princeton University, Woodrow Wilson, visits the Bahamas, meets Mark Twain, and indulges in an affair with a woman named Mary Peck. Wilson’s wife later forgives him.


1910, Oct. 15, William Peter Gibbens (Maggie Maude Heard’s husband) is born

three weeks before, on Nov. 8, 28-year-old Franklin Delano Roosevelt is elected to the New York State Senate. At 6:22 p.m., April 21, 1910, Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) dies at 74, seven months and nine days, of congestive heart fai- lure (angina pectoris) in his home, “Stormfield,” in Redding, Connecticut. Stormfield is the name of a fictional captain of a vessel that journeys to heaven (at one time racing a comet). Stormfield is the last book by Twain published in his lifetime, 1909. He needed to be persuaded to release it, a work covering 30 years, because he thought (rightly) it would harm his reputation among the devout. The book is a satirical look at the pretensions of humans and their tiny world.


In the sky the evening Twain dies is Halley’s Comet, which also shown in the sky at his birth (premature by two months, in Florida, Missouri, Nov. 30, 1835. (Comets stay visible to the naked eye for several weeks, to astronomers for months.) Halley’s achieved its perihelion (closest approach to the sun) on April 19, so Twain knew of its return on its (normally) 75-to-76-year orbit (the gravitational fields of Jupiter and Saturn can affect the time cycle by more than a year, or they can cancel out). At various times, Twain said he expected to go out with the comet just as he came in with it. He imagined “the Almighty” called him and the comet “those two unaccountable frauds.” Halley’s reached its perihelion in 1835 on Nov. 17, 13 days before Twain’s birth. The 1835 passage became its first since its appearance in early 1759, which confirmed English astronomer Edmond Halley’s prediction in 1705, based on his use of Isaac Newton’s new calculus, that the great comets of 1531, 1607 and 1682 (each time coming within about 50 million miles of the sun, about half the 93-million-mile distance from the earth to the sun) proved to be the same comet and that it would return at the end of 1758, first appearing in a particular section of the sky.


After that return, in the area of the sky Halley predicted, scientists named the comet for him. Halley died in 1742 at age 86. Halley’s Comet reached its perihelion on March 13, 1759, a little over three months after Halley said it would (but on Christmas night in 1758, a German farmer and amateur astronomer named Johann Palitzsch saw it at the spot where Halley said it would first appear). Since Halley, astronomers have traced recorded appearances of the comet all the way back to 164 B.C.E. in Babylon and in 239 B.C.E. in China. The comet blazed spectacularly, with a tail millions of miles long, in 1835 and 1910 (visible even in daylight in 1910), encompassing Twain’s life, but on its return in 1986, it could barely be discerned by the naked eye, looking like a faint smudge (“dirty snowball”). Several nations (but not the United States) sent space probes in 1986 to photograph Halley’s up close. Twain increased the population of Florida, he bragged, by one percent, from 100 to 101, which is more than other famous men, even Shakespeare, could boast. A week and a half short of 20 years later, this writer, for whom Twain became his literary hero, is born on April 10, 1930, in Big Spring, Texas. In 1910, Polish physicist Marie Curie isolates polonium and radium (in 1903 she shared the Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery, with her husband Pierre, of radiation on Dec. 21, 1898, and again will win the Nobel Prize in 1911, for chemistry; she will die of leukemia in 1934; in 1999, her notebooks still will be so radioactive they cannot be handled). The Boy Scouts are organized in the United States on Feb. 8 of this year (see 1899 for British Gen. Robert Baden-Powell, founder of the organization in England in 1908).

1911, Sept. 25, Emeline Heard (Nelson), eighth child, third daughter of WHH and

MECH, is born in Reagan Wells TX six weeks after actress/comedienne Lucille Ball (full name: Lucille Désirée) is born on Aug. 6 in Celoron, New York (outside Jamestown). She becomes recognized as America’s foremost female clown in the I Love Lucy television series, 1951-57. Emeline is born eight months after movie-actor Ronald Reagan is born on Feb. 6 in Tampico IL (see 1923). Emma is born four months after the U.S. Supreme Court on May 15 finds John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil Co. restrains trade in contravention of the Sherman Anti-Trust Law and must be broken up into more than two dozens companies (Rockefeller is the richest man in American history, controlling 2 percent of the gross national product, compared with Bill Gates’ one-half of one percent in 1999). Born a month and a half before Emma, on Aug. 6 in Celoron NY, is perhaps the greatest of all comediennes, Lucille (Désirée) Ball (she dies in 1989). Born July 18 in London, Ontario, is actor Hume Cronyn. On Dec. 8 in New York City, actor Lee J. Cobb is born. Cobb will earn two supporting Oscar nominations. He dies in 1976. A day later, on Dec. 9 in Philadelphia, actor Broderick Crawford is born. Crawford will win a best-actor Oscar for 1949’s All the King’s Men (based on Huey Long’s career). He dies in 1986.

Earlier in 1911, goat ranchers sheared around March 10, but a freeze hit the area on March 31 and killed most of the newly shorn animals. This writer’s Great-Uncle Charlie crammed all the goats he could into his house in the Dry Frio Canyon of northern Uvalde County TX, but the rest died. My grandfather WyattHubHeard also lost hundreds of goats to this freeze. Ranchers in Southwest Texas thought they could get in three shearings of sheep and goats a year (early spring, mid-summer, late fall) because of the longer warm period in Texas. Other oldtimers in Florence Fenley’s books on them in 1939 and 1957 mention the March 1911 freeze and how it killed their goats.


In 1911, Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen reaches the North Pole, and American composer Irving Berlin writes Alexander’s Ragtime Band. On March 25, 1911, a fire in New York City’s Triangle (Shirt) Waist Center killed 146 women, mostly young immigrants. The exit doors are locked, ostensibly to keep out union organizers, but possibly to keep the women from taking breaks. The women previously participated in a march demanding better wages, working conditions and safety measures. Many of the women jumped from ninth- and eighth-floor ledges, preferring the quicker death of the fall to being burned alive. Points atop an iron fence impaled some bodies. Firemen later found many bodies piled up against the doors inside, or draped over sewing machines, sometimes without heads. Eleven engagement rings turned up. The owners of Triangle, Isaac Harris and Max Blank later reopened their factory across the street after being found innocent of manslaughter charges when the prosecutor could not prove they knew the exit doors to be locked at the moment the fire started, 4:45 p.m. The fire lasted less than half an hour. Tammany Hall leader Charles Murphy previously opposed reform measures but appointed legislative leaders Robert F. Wagner Sr. and Al Smith to conduct an investigation. Smith in particular later led a drive to enact more than 30 laws reforming factories in New York State. Frances Perkins, the first woman cabinet member in American history, later says Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal started on March 24, 1911, with the Triangle Fire. On March 26 in Columbus, Mississippi, is born playwright, screenwriter Tennessee Williams (real name: Thomas Lanier Williams), who will win the Pulitzer Prize and work on the scripts for films based on his plays that include 1950’s The Glass Menagerie, 1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire, and 1955’s The Rose Tattoo. Outstanding plays turned into films by others include 1959’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, 1961’s Summer and Smoke, 1962’s Sweet Bird of Youth, and 1964’s The Night of the Iguana. Another novel turned into a film by others is 1961’s The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone. Emeline dies on April 23, 2003, at her home near Reagan Wells.




Call the date of this fuzzy photo November 1911 (merely my guess), be-cause I think WHH and MECH now have eight children, seven visible here. My dad, Dow, is astride the dark horse, Deck atop the white horse, (John is absent) Bessie is to her mother’s left, Sid to Dow’s right, Dan in his dad’s lap, Bertha to her dad’s left (whose head is between the heads of two sheep), and Emma (born Sept. 25, 1911) in her mother’s lap (again, I’m guessing Lizzie is holding an infant).


1913 photo of the Reagan Wells baseball “All Stars.” My dad, 16, is second from the right on the back row, showing his three-quarter profile (and also his aware-ness of “stage presence”). The front row shows Deck Heard, 15, Henry Hokit, Oliver Cummins (sic), and John Connell. Back row: (includes Jim Clark, Rafe Bowles (related to Doak Bowles, renowned Uvalde character?) and another boy whose name I don’t know), (fourth) Dow Heard, and Henry Cummings, 17, the baby brother of my grandmother Heard. Grandmother is 34 in the summer of 19-13. Dad remained a baseball fan all his life. In old age, in the 1960s, he would sit on the back porch at his and mom’s dark-red-brick home at 2431 Sunset Drive in Houston (all commercial now) and listen to the Houston Astros on the radio. The Astros never did anything important while he lived, making the World Series only in 2005, when they got swept by the Chicago White Sox in the series.

1913, June 13, William Jackson Nelson Jr. (Emeline Heard’s husband) is born

three and a half months after actor Jim Backus (full name: James Gilmore Backus) is born on Feb. 25 in Cleveland. Backus appears in two dozen films from the 19-40s to the 1970s but probably is best remembered as the off-screen voice of the cartoon character Mr. Magoo. He dies of pneumonia in 1989. Nearly two months earlier, on Jan. 6 in Salt Lake City, actress Loretta Young is born. Young will win a best-actress Oscar for 1948’s The Farmer’s Daughter and earn a nomination for 1949’s Come to the Stable. She stars in The Loretta Young Show on TV in the 1950s and wins three Emmys. She becomes the first actor to win both an Oscar and an Emmy. She dies Aug. 12, 2000, at 87. Jack Nelson is born three and a half months after the 16th Amendment is adopted on Feb. 25, permitting a graduated income tax. On May 5 in New York City is born actor John Garfield, who will be nominated for a supporting Oscar for 1938’s Four Daughters and for best actor in 1947’s Body and Soul.


Born May 5, in Cincinnati is actor Tyrone Power, who stars with his dark good looks in 1938’s Alexander’s Ragtime Band, 1939’s Jesse James 1940’s Mark of Zorro, 1941’s Blood and Sand, (after service in the Marines in WWII, where, according to my brothers Dow and John, Power, in boot camp at Parris Island SC, famously repeated aan ordred ritual, after calling his rifle a gun, by running naked from tent to tent with a bucket over his head declaring, “This is my rifle, and this [his penis] is my gun; this is for killing, this is for fun”). Powers stars in 1946’s The Razor’s Edge, 1947’s Captain From Castille, and 1957’s The Sun Also Rises. A year after The Razor’s Edge, in 1958 in Madrid, Spain, Power dies of a heart attack.


On May 31, the 17th Amendment is passed, taking election of U.S. senators from state legislatures and giving it to the voters. Movie director Stanley Kramer is born on Sept. 23 in New York City and will direct or produce 80 films nominated for some kind of Oscar, including 1952’s High Noon, 1954’s The Caine Mutiny, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg, and 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, but not for perhaps his best film, 1960’s Inherit the Wind (a retelling of the Scopes-Evolution Trial of 1925, with Spencer Tracy as Clarence Darrow and Frederick March as William Jennings Bryan). That film offended religious fun-damentalists (or Flat-Worlders, as I call them) Joshua believed the world to be flat, and so did Jesus, his disciples and everyone else in the world then except for a couple of Greek or Chinese scientists). The Academy treated Inherit the Wind like a hot iron, giving the Oscar to Billy Wilder’s The Apartment. Best actor went to Burt Lancaster for Elmer Gantry, well deserved, but Tracy easily could have been chosen for his Darrow if he never began his boycott of the ceremony (see 1901). Other great Kramer films not nominated include 1942’s The Moon and Sixpence (co-producer), 1949’s Champion, Cyrano de Bergerac (but José Ferrer won for best actor for Cyrano de Bergerac), 1951’s Death of a Salesman, 1954’s The Caine Mutiny, 1958’s The Defiant Ones, and 1959’s On the Beach. Kramer received the Thalberg Award for life achievement in 1961. Kramer’s films earn more than 80 Oscar nominations and win 16.


Kramer tries his hand a comedy with 1963’s It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, with Sid Caesar and a host of stars. As a general-assignment reporter for the Long Beach Independent, Press-Telegram, I covered filming of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World for its scenes in Long Beach, and well remember sitting next to Edie Adams, a gorgeous blonde wearing a slit skirt, in the actors’ van as I interviewed her. Kramer died at 87 on Feb. 20, 2001. On Feb. 4 in Tuskegee, Alabama, is born Rosa Parks, a black woman who in 1955 in Montgomery AL, refused to give up her seat at the front of a public bus to a white man and got arrested and fingerprinted! She became the focus of a bus boycott by blacks and the beginning of nonviolent protests in the South under Martin Luther King Jr. In 1913 Irish dramatist George Bernard Shaw publishes Pygmalion, later retitled My Fair Lady for a great American movie production.

1913, Nov. 11, Maggie Maude Heard, ninth child, fourth daughter of WHH and

MECH, is born in Reagan Wells TX a week after actor Gig Young (real name: Byron Elsworth Barr) is born on Nov. 4 in St. Cloud, Minn. Young will be nomi-nated for supporting Oscars for 1951’s Come Fill the Cup and 1958’s Teacher’s Pet, before winning an Oscar for 1969’s They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? He dies in 1978. The day after Young is born, Nov. 5, actress Vivian Leigh (real name: Vivian Mary Hartley) is born in Darjeeling, India. Leigh will win two Oscars, as Scarlet O’Hara in 1939’s Gone With the Wind and as Blanche du Bois in 1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire. She and Laurence Olivier marry in 1940. She dies in 1967. Maggie is born nine days after movie-actor Burt Lancaster (full name: Burton Stephen Lancaster) is born on Nov. 2 in New York City. Lancaster will win an Oscar for the lead in 1962’s Elmer Gantry and receives three other nominations. He dies in 1994. Maggie is born one month after President Woodrow Wilson presses an electric button in the White House, setting off an explosion on Oct. 13 that opens the Theodore Roosevelt-inspired Panama Canal. Actor Karl Malden (born Mladen George Sekulovich) is born on March 22 in Chicago (and celebrated his 91st birthday in 2003). He dies July 1, 2001, at Of Serbian descent, Malden parlays great acting ability and a potato nose into a long career (frequently with Marlon Brando) in which he wins a best-supporting Oscar for 1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire -- and is nominated for another Oscar for 1954’s On the Waterfront. He wins an Emmy for 1984’s Fatal Vision. But his best film may be Patton, where he plays Gen. Omar Bradley to George C. Scott’s Patton. Scott becomes the first winner of a best-actior Oscar who declines it after it is awarded, on the ground it is a meaningless popularity contest unrelated to the craftsmanship of acting. One of Malden’s better roles (he enjoyed many) came in 1970’s Patton, in which he plays Bradley opposite George C. Scott’s Oscar-wining, lifetime role as George S. Patton.). Astonishingly, there is no mention of Malden‘s best-ever role, as Bradlrey, on Patton, on Google, and I could not add a menton of Malden’s great acting in that role to Google. As late at 2000, Malden plays a Catholic priest ministering to Martin Sheen’s President Josiah Bartlett on the hit television series West Wing. In 1913 German theologian, writer, musician, physician, and philosopher Albert Schweitzer comes close to keeping his promise to live for science and art until age 30, then become a medical missionary, establishing in 1913 at age 38 a hospital to fight leprosy and sleeping sickness at Lambaréné, French Equatorial Africa, where he remains to the end of his life in 1965 at age 90; in 1952, he wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

1914, Feb. 12, Mary Steigerwald Heard (Sidney Sterling Heard’s wife) is

born six weeks after actress Jane Wyman (real name: Sarah Jane Fulks) is born on Jan. 4 in St. Joseph, Missouri. Wyman earns an Oscar nomination for 1946’s The Yearling and will win for 1948’s Johnny Belinda, the same year she divorces Ronald Reagan (no doubt because she really possesses acting talent and doesn’t need him as anchor). Wyman earns two more nominations (1951’s The Blue Veil and 1954’s Magnificent Obsession). Mary is born five days before actor Arthur Kennedy is born on Feb. 17 in Worchester MA. He will be nominated for a best-actor Oscar for 1951’s Bright Victory and four times for best-supporting actor, in 1949’s Champion, 1955’s Trial, 1957’s Peyton Place, and 1958’s Some Came Running (written by James Jones, author of the best pre-World War II novel about the American Army, From Here To Eternity (made into a movie in 1952, starring Montgomery Clift – improbably as Robert E. Lee Pruitt -- Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr, Frank Sinatra (best-supporting Oscar at a time when his career needed a lift), Donna Reed, and Ernest Borgnine. Filmed too early to depict the novel’s dance club in Honolulu as the whorehouse in the novel). Kenn- denedy should have been nominated, and probably should have won, for 1960’s Elmer Gantry and 1962’s Lawrence of Arabia (playing the role of American journalist Lowell Thomas). He dies, without an Oscar, of a brain tumor in 1990.


Mary is born five months before Serbian Gabriel Princips assassinates Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria on June 28, starting events that lead to The Great War, later known as World War I. On April 2, actor (later Sir) Alex Guinness (real name: Alec Guinness de Cuffe; that’s his mother’s maiden surname; he never learns the identity of his father, who provides money for private schools, called public schools in England) is born in London. At Pembroke Lodge, a boarding school, the headmaster discourages Guinness from participating in student theatri-cals, telling him, “You’re not the acting type.” Guinness will win an Oscar for 19-57’s The Bridge on the River Kwai, and receive nominations four other times, including 1952’s The Lavender Hill Mob, and 1977’s Star Wars (as Ben Obi-Wan Kenobi). He should have been nominated for 1955’s hilarious The Captain’s Paradise and The Lady Killers, for 1962’s Lawrence of Arabia (as Arab Prince Feisal; main star: Peter O’Toole) and 1965’s Doctor Zhivago (as a poe-try-loving Soviet Communist; main star Omar Sharif as Zhivago, in Boris Pasternak’s 1958 Nobel Prize-winning novel, which Pasternak could not accept and still get back into the Soviet Union). Guinness dies Aug. 8, 2000, at 86.



March 16, 1914, 3-year-old Henry Williams Jr. grabs the gloved right index finger of Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin D. Roosevelt, 32, at the laying of the keel of “battleship 39,” at the New York Navy Yard. Later named the Battleship Arizona, it would become the most famous vessel bombed by the Japanese on Dec. 7, 1941, at Pearl Harbor. Son of a “naval constructor,” Wil-liams recalled three-quarters of a century later, as a retired Navy captain, “ . . . they tried to get me away, and, of course, I was a little ham. FDR, being a bit of a ham himself, I guess he saw the possibilities of whatever it might be for all the pic-ture-taking . . . So . . . he shooed them away . . . “ This is seven years before Roosevelt will be stricken with polio, and 20 years before he is elected president in 1932. Photo from p. 4, Battleship Arizona: An Illustrated History, Paul Stillwell, Naval Institute Press, Annapolis, 1991.

On May 13 in Lexington, Alabama, is born Joe Louis (real name: Louis Barrow), whose dirt-poor, share-cropping family moves to Detroit, and he becomes one of the greatest world heavyweight boxing champions of all time. A black man famous for counter-punching, Louis loses on a knockout to aging ex-champion and Ger-man Max Schmeling early in his career, in 1936, which electrifies the Nazis under Adolph Hitler, seeming to prove the bogus theory of the superiority of Aryans. Schmeling, studying films of Louis fights, notices Louis drops his left hand after a left jab, opening himself to a straight right counter punch by his opponent. Louis in his next match captures the heavyweight title against James J. Braddock, and in a rematch with Schmeling in 1938 destroys the German in the first round, smashing him with right counter-punch to Schmeling’s left kidney after Schmeling swings and misses with a left, exposing the left side of the back of his body. Schmeling’s scream is heard all over the arena, and he drops for the 10- count. But Schmeling in later life befriends Louis when many of Louis’ own countrymen turn their back on him. Louis’ demeanor, carefully directed to avoid the racist backlash against the only previous black champion, taunting, white-womanizing Jack Johnson (of Galveston, Texas) makes him “a credit to his race” in the eyes of most whites (he manifested a credit to all races.) At one point in her career, “high-yeller” black singer Lena Horne brags that she set out to and succeeded in seducing Joe Louis. How hard could that have been?


On Dec. 26 in Sunrise, Minnesota, is born actor Richard Widmark, who never exceeds his brilliance as a psychopathic killer, with a “tittering, chilling laugh,” in 1947’s Kiss of Death (pushes an invalid in a wheelchair down a staircase), his de-but in films and his only Oscar nomination (best-supporting). In 1914, American author Edgar Rice Burroughs writes Tarzan of the Apes, and Mahatma Gandhi becomes the leader of the Indian National Congress. On March 26 is born William C. Westmoreland, who will head American forces in the Vietnam War and who never will lose his “light at the end of the tunnel” vision.




View of the stores north of the Uvalde Plaza in 1905, with the camera facing northeast. From p. 56 of Florence Fenley’s first book, 1939, I place it here to show the contrast with the view of the same area in the photo below 11 or 12 years later, with the camera looking northwest (p. 95 of Fenley’s second book, 1957). The long, low black structure at left is “E.B Zachry & Co,” the same concern I think we see on p. 129 of this genealogy. And the Opera House constructed in 1891 is visible to the far right (its conical tower is just out of sight to the right). The Livery Stable to the right of Zachry is replaced in the photo below by another. The two-story structure to the right of it appears to be the same, with three tall windows for the second floor, but it may not be the “BA-NK” (sign above the windows in the photo below). Between the three-upper-windows building and the Opera House appears to be an open lot, where a grocery store (T.P. Roberts) stood in the photo below.


Downtown Uvalde scene from “about 1916,” in Florence Fenley’s second oldtimers book, 1957. That’s what the cutline says, but I’m guessing the date is sometime in the spring or later in 1917. The camera seems to be pointed northwest from an upper-story window of the 1899 courthouse. My guess is that the mass of cars on the middle left at the northeast corner of the plaza are 1917 models. The uniformed man carrying the American Flag in the street indicates to me this probably is a patriotic occasion, perhaps soon after America declared war on Germany, April 6, 1917. May Day of 1917 would have been only a bit over three weeks after April 6. It is possible, of course, that the 1916 guess on the picture’s date is correct. Mexican rebel Poncho Villa invaded Columbus NM on March 9, 1916, and left eight dead U.S. soldiers and three dead civilians in this country, plus half a dozen wounded civilians. U.S. Maj. Gen. John JosephBlackjack” Pershing (nick-name from his commanding black troops, “Buffalo Soldiers,” the 10th Cavalry, in Iowa) mounted a punitive expedition into Mex-ico of 10,000 to 12,000 men that stayed there until early 1917, a total failure despite its advantage in automobiles and weapons -- it never got close enough to Villa to see his force’s dustcloud as Villa mainly hid in the mountains he knew so well. I say failure, but one notices Villa never invaded the United States again. It seems to me, however, that uniformed American men in 1916 in this part of the country would have been in Mexico, not Uvalde. Pershing later commanded American troops in France in the “Great War,” now known as the First World War or World War I, and he won the Pulitzer Prize for history in 1932 for his memoirs of his command in France. There are other uniformed men in the photograph to the left of the man with the flag (and one to the right). Check out the decorated wheels of the horse-drawn buggy in the me-dium-right foreground. And how about that guy standing on the permanent awning above the drug store sign? The automobiles look to be either 1916 or 1917 vintage.

1916, Dec. 4, Woodrow Allen Heard, sixth son and 10th and last child of WHH and

MECH, is born in Reagan Wells TX a month after future CBS anchor Walter Cronkite, who will be called the most-trusted man in America, is born on Nov. 4 in St. Joseph, MO. Woodrow, almost certainly named for President Woodrow Wilson, is born 18 days before actress Betty Grable (full name: Elizabeth Ruth Grable) is born in St. Louis MO on Dec. 18. Grable becomes the No. 1 pinup girl in World War II despite marrying bandleader Harry James (b. March 15, 1916, d. 1983) in 1943. A smoker, she dies of lung cancer at 56 in 1973. Nine months before Woodrow is born, comedian-actor Jackie Gleason (real name: Herbert John Gleason) is born on Feb. 26 in Brooklyn, and is best remembered as bus-driver Ralph Kramden in his 1950s TV show The Honeymooners; he wins a best-supporting-actor nomination as Minnesota Fats in 1961’s The Hustler, with Paul Newman and George C. Scott. Two weeks after Gleason is born, Texas playwright Horton Foote is born on March 14 in Wharton. Foote wins Oscars for writing the screenplays for 1962’s To Kill a Mockingbird (from Harper Lee’s novel) and for his own Tender Mercies in 1983. He also is nominated for The Trip to Bountiful in 1985. Movie-actor Gregory Peck is born on April 5 in La Jolla CA and, like Henry Fonda, Jimmy Stewart, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, Robert Duval, Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas, and Harrison Ford, Peck will play in several box-office hits. On April 24 about 1,600 Irish nationalists rebel in the “Easter Rising” in Southern Ireland, seizing parts of Dublin. British troops put down the uprising several days later.


On June 18 in Los Angeles is born Richard Boone, a deep-voiced, craggy-faced actor who plays mainly tough-guy roles. He dies in 1981. Born July 16, 1916, in Tokyo, is actress Olivia de Havilland, who plays the syrupy Melanie in 1939’s Gone With the Wind. She wins the Oscar for best actress for 1946’s To Each His Own, and for 19-49’s The Heiress, as well as be nominated for three other Oscars, including for best-supporting actress in Gone With the Wind. Born on Oct. 14 is C. Everett Koop, who will become Surgeon General under President Ronald Reagan in the 1980s, much to the later regret of Reagan, because Koop turns out to be a man who cares about other people. Actor Kirk Douglas is born five days after Woodrow, on Dec. 9 in Amsterdam NY (real name: Issur Danielovitch). He will be nominated three times for an Oscar (not for the lead in 1960’s five-star 1960 movie Spartacus) but never wins (the three nominations: 1949’s Champion, 1953’s The Bad and the Beautiful, and 1956’s Lust for Life -- where he plays Vincent Van Gogh). He fathers actor-producer Michael Douglas (see 1944). The Academy finally gives Kirk an Oscar for life achievement after son Michael becomes a huge success, both as actor and producer. Born on May 1 is actor Glenn Ford (real name: Gwyllyn Samuel Newton Ford) in Quebec. From 1939 to 1991, Ford appeared in about 100 movies, as leading man in many, and probably never did a better job than in 1955’s The Blackboard Jungle. Ford turned 87 in 2003. He lives to be 100 and four months.


Photos of the Hub and Lizzie Heard family taken in April 1917 by Mrs. Jim Clark on the northeast side of the 1914 house built by Hub and his sons. The United States declared war on Germany on April 6. Hub turned 45 on April 21 (San Jacinto Day). Above: front row, Dan, 9; Emma, 5-1/2; Mag (who nursed beyond her third birth-day), 3-1/2; Hub, 45; Mary Elizabeth, almost 40; Woodrow, 5 months; and Sid, 13. Back row: Bessie, almost 15; Deck 19; Dow, 20-1/2; John 17; and Bertha, 11-1/2.

Below: Hub, Dow, Deck, John, Sid, and Dan. These two photos illustrate male-dominance.You can see especially well in the lower photo the blankets they strung, hiding the porch on the northeast corner of the 1914 house that Hub and his sons (and Uvalde carpenter and nurseryman Billy Gaines) built, to make a uniform background. Uncle Dan gave the negatives of these shots to this writer several years before his death in 1989 at age 81. He feared his sisters might destroy them. Bessie in particular hated the then-fashionable headband she wore.

1917, Sept. 13, Dow Hubbard Heard and Minerva Tennessee Gulley marry a

little over a month after movie-actor Robert Mitchum is born on Aug. 6 in Bridgeport CT. Mitchum will be nominated for best-supporting actor in 1945’s The Story of G.I. Joe and will star in 100 other movies. Seven months earlier, the British intercept and translate a letter dated Jan. 16, 1917, from German Foreign Minister Arthur Zimmermann to the German minister in Mexico City, proposing an alliance with Mexico if the United States enters the war. Germany promises the return of Texas to Mexico, as well as New Mexico and Arizona (notice they didn’t agree to part with California). Three months later, on April 2, President Woodrow Wilson asked Congress to declare war against Germany. Four days later, on April 6, Congress did. Except for Dec. 8, 1941, the day after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in a surprise attack, it is the last time Congress declares war, which, under the Constitution, only Congress can do. On March 2 in Santiago, Cuba, is born musician, bandleader, actor Desi Arnaz (real name: Desiderio Al-berto Arnaz y de Acha III), who will marry Lucille Ball in 1940 and team with her on the I love Lucy show on TV, still an all-time favorite. Dow and Minerva marry a little less than two months before, on Nov. 7, Bolsheviks under Vladimir Ilyich Lenin overthrow the moderate Alexander Kerenski government in Rus-sia. Four weeks after Dow and Minerva marry, on Oct. 15, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. is born (the same month and day John Kenneth Galbreath is born in 1908. Schlesinger will become one of America’s greatest historians; his works include a three-volume history of the political life of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Schlesinger will serve in the White House under John F. Kennedy, who is born on June 29 of this year.

A week later, on Oct. 22 in Tokyo, is born movie-actress Joan Fontaine (real name: Joan de Beauvoir de Havilland, which she changes for an actress’ name because her sister, Olivia de Havilland, born July 7, 1916, takes the family name to the screen). Joan wins an Oscar for 1941’s Alfred Hitchcock film Suspicion, after two earlier nominations, including 1940’s Rebecca. Born on Jan. 24 in Ham-den, Connecticut, is actor Ernest Borgnine (real name: Ermes Effron Borgnino) of Italian parents. He will win an Oscar for best-actor for 1955’s Marty, a lovable character, but his forte is playing menacing heavies, as he did in 1953’s From Here To Eternity and 1955’s Bad Day at Black Rock. Actress-singer Lena Horne is born on June 28. Horne reportedly states an aim to sleep with heavy-weight boxing champion Joe Louis, and later says she did. Painter Andrew

Wyeth is born on July 12. Also in 1917, one of the worst race riots in United States history takes place in Houston. Seventeen black soldiers are hung. Nov. 6, the Bolshevik Revolution succeeds in Russia (See Stalin, 1879).

1918, Congress passes the Sedition and Espionage Act, making it a crime to criticize

the government. Apparently the legislators learned nothing from history or the Alien and Sedition Act of 1798. Yet, President Woodrow Wilson acquiesces in passage oft the law.

1918, Oct. 17, Buck Davenport (Sydney Dale Heard’s second husband) is born

nine days after American Army Sgt. Alvin York of Tennessee almost single-han-dedly kills 25 German soldiers and captures another 132 in the Argonne Forest in France. (same area where the Battle of the Bulge is fought in late 1944 in World War II). York is awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor and is regarded as his country’s greatest hero in the Great War. Buck is born a little over five months after the birth of Mike Wallace (real first name: Myron) the father of television ambush journalism (microphone thrust in face: “When did you stop beating your wife?”) in front of a big audience (a NYC TV station). Wallace parlays that into a coveted job (60 Minutes) that allows him to win a quality award many years later (an Emmy), with the aid of talented producers and directors. In an interview in May 2000 with Larry King, Wallace expresses pride instead of mortification over his early tech-nique. Buck is born three weeks before the Armistice ends the World War on Nov. 11. Also born on Oct. 17 is actress Rita Hayworth (real name: Margarita Carmen Cansino) in Brooklyn, who, together with Betty Grable, became a pinup for servicemen in World War II, and is best remembered for the lead role in 19-46’s Gilda. She dies of Alzheimer’s disease in 1987. Hayworth once says that men who slept with her woke up expecting her to look like Gilda. Movie-actor William Holden (real name: William Franklin Beedle) is born April 17 in O’Fallon, IL, who will win an Oscar for 1953’s Stalag 17. He dies in 1981. Actress Susan Hayward (real name: Edythe Marrener) is born on June 30, also in Brooklyn, and will be nominated five times for an Oscar, winning the last time for 1958’s I Want To Live. She dies in 1975. Actor Ben Johnson is born in Foraker OK on June 13 and will win the Oscar for Sam the Lion in 1971’s The Last Picture Show, where he speaks the great line, “I’ve been around that trashy behavior all my life” (to teen-agers who hook up a retarded boy with a prostitute); Molly Ivins and this writer argue over who first favored that line as the best in the film. Perhaps we tied. On Feb. 6 in Budapest is born actress Zsa Zsa Gabor. On Jan. 24 is born television evangelist Oral Roberts, who pretends to heal by laying on his hands. On March 18 Congress approves daylight savings time. Television personality Jack Paar, who succeeds Steve Allen as host of NBC’s Tonight Show, is born on May 1 (he is 3-1/2 years older than Allen, born Dec. 26, 1921, in New York City). On July 14 is born Swedish movie director Ingmar Bergman. Baseball player Ted Williams is born on Aug. 30. He will be the last player to hit over .400 (.404), in 1941. On Sept. 4 is born radio-personality Paul Harvey.

1918, Oct. 23, Frank Cummings, third son, fourth child of Mary Ann Mulchey

Cummings and John Albert Cummings, and younger brother of Mary Eliza beth “Lizzie” Cummings Heard, dies at age 30 in the Army in New York City during the worst week of the “SpanishInfluenza Epidemic in NYC, when 5,000 perish there (the epidemic kills 25 million-plus worldwide, more than die in World War I). Actually, the misnamed flu began in Camp Funston, Kansas. Four days later, on Oct. 27, also in New York City, is born actress Teresa Wright (full name: Muriel Teresa Wright), who will earn a supporting Oscar nomination for her first film, 1941’s The Little Foxes, also be nominated for an Oscar for 1942’s The Pride of the Yankees, and win as best actress for 1943’s Shadow of a Doubt. Four days before Ann dies, on Oct. 19, Robert S. Strauss is born. Strauss will become a major player in the Democratic Party in Texas and later in the nation. He serves as ambassador to Russia. On Nov. 5 Tammany Hall Democrat Al Smith is elected governor of New York, the first Irish governor in the history of the country. Smith will win three more terms and push through much social and labor legislation. Smith famously says, “The only cure for the ills of de-mocracy is more democracy.” The first Catholic candidate for president, he will be defeated by Herbert Hoover in 1928 (several “evangelist” preachers will claim responsibility for Smith’s defeat, including fundamentalist J. Frank Norris, pastor of the First Baptist Church in Fort Worth and also of a church in the upper Mid-west (how hard did someone need to work in backward Texas in 1928 to beat the first Irish Catholic [from New York] running for president?), Thereafter, Smith heads the project to build the Empire State Building, which will be completed in 1931. Evangelist Billy Graham is born on Nov. 7, one year to the day after the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia in 1917. Graham will anger Christian fundamen-talists [this writer calls them lip-strummers] in the late 1950s when he fails to join their ranks. In 2005, after half a century of preaching “The End is Near,” Graham celebrates his 86th birthday.



Photo of Scottish Highland infantry, “devils in skirts,” in a trench in World War I, is from p. 391 of The Pity of War: Explaining World War I, Niall Ferguson, Basic Books, Persus Books Group, the Penguin Press, Lon-don, 1998. The Germans particularly disliked the High-landers, not least because of their reluctance to take pri-soners. Notice the dog between the first two soldiers.





British Mark IV tanks going forward against the Hindenberg Line on Sept. 28, 1918. Photo from p. 237, The First World War, John Keegan, Alfred Knopf, New York, 1999.




Photos from p. 233, The First World War, John Keegan, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1999. Top: Horse struggles with a water cart bogged beside a brushwood track, St. Eloi, Aug. 11, 1917. Bottom: Australians on a duckboard track, Chateau Wood, Ypres (EE-press), Oct 29, 1917. The horror of stalemated war, repea-tedly shelled, is apparent.


1918, Nov. 12, Opal Shafer Heard (Woodrow Allen Heard’s wife) is born the day after

the Nov. 11 Armistice. A week earlier, on Nov. 4 in Mount Vernon NY, actor Art Carney (full name: Arthur William Matthew Carney) is born. Hampered with a slight limp from a shrapnel wound at Normandy in 1944, Carney, teams with Jackie Gleason in TV’s The Honeymooners in the mid-1950s, will win a best-actor Oscar for 1974’s Harry and Tonto, and six Emmys for his TV work. On Jan. 14, CBS’s 60 Minutes curmudgeon commentator Andy Rooney is born. On Nov. 3, fastball immortal Bob Feller is born. Russian writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn is born on Dec. 11. He cele-brates his 87th birthday in 2005. In 1918 Woodrow Wilson presents his Fourteen Points peace plan to Congress, where isolationist Republicans later vote against participation by the United States in the League of Nations. Three weeks later, on Jan. 1, 1919, J.D. Salinger is born. He will write Catcher in the Rye, in 1951, a cultural-watershed novel, a couple of other books and then become a recluse. He lives four weeks beyond his 91st birthday.



1919, the Big Four at Versailles, France: British Prime Minister David Lloyd Geor

ge, Italian Prime Minister Vittorio Orlando, French Premier Georges Cleamenceau, and United States President Woodrow Wilson. Wilson got the League of Nations provision that he wanted in the Treaty of Versailles (Cleamenceau in particular prob-ably didn’t care, believing it wouldn’t work). Fat lot of good it did Wilson. Republican Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts fought against the idea of the League and torpedoed it in the Senate. It didn’t help that when Lodge asked Wilson if he could pre-sent the treaty to the Senate, Wilson, knowing of Lodge’s antipathy for him and the Lea-gue, said, “Not on your life.” The punitive treaty never stood a chance. The French es-pecially wanted to punish the Germans. Turmoil in Germany between facicists and Com-munists in the 1920s spawned the ugliest of progenies, Adolph Hitler. Historians rightly blame the treaty as the cause of World War II. Much of the world thinks France did not fight the Germans as hard as they could in WWII, deeming the preservation of the French language and culture more important, allowing the Americans, the English and free French like Charles de Gualle to to the fighting and dying.


Dow Sr. and Minerva Heard, photo taken in December 1918, a few months more than one year after their marriage on Sept. 13, 1917.




American astronomer Eugene Hubble in 1919. Photo from Edwin Hubble: The Discoverer of the Big Bang Universe, Alexander S. Sharov and Igor D. Novikov, Press Syndicate of Cambridge University, New York, 1993, p. 51, originally published in Russian by Nauka (Science) Publishing House, Moscow, 1989. Russian researcher at the Sternberg Astronomical In- stitute, Moscow, Sharov, and Danish cosmologist Novikov at the Nordita Research Institute in Denmark, rightly take the position that Hubble discovered the sci- ence behind what came to be called the Big Bang Theory of the beginning of the universe. Hubble, using the 100-inch telescope at the Mount Wilson Obser vatory in Pasadena CA, determined, perhaps as early as 1923, that the Milky Way is not the only galaxy in the universe, and, furthermore, numerous galaxies are fleeing from us at four-fifths of the speed of light. Hub- ble, 1889-1953, is an amateur boxer in his youth, ser-ved in the U.S. Army in World War I. The first space telescope is named for him.


Hubble at the 100-Inch Mount Wilson Observatory telescope in 1923.

He is looking through lenses at a central mirror that shows him what the 100-inch reflector mirror shows. 1923 is the year Hubble began to formu-late his notion that other galaxies beside the Milky Way exist, and that they fled at four-fifths the speed of light from a common source -- this is essen-tial to the Big Bang Theory that came later.































The world’s first outer-space astronomical instrument, the 96-inch Hubble Telescope circling the earth above its atmosphere, launched in 1993, took this photograph of an area where stars are born. Called the most im-portant scientific photograph ever taken, it shows dust clouds that mea-sure from bottom to top an entire light year, the distance light travels in one year at the speed of light, more than 186,000 miles per second, six trillion-plus miles.

1920, Jan. 29, Dow Hubbard Heard Jr. (first child of Dow Hubbard Heard and Mi

nerva Tennessee Gulley Heard, and first grandchild of WHH and MECH) is born in Marshall TX two days after adoption of the 18th Amendment banning the sale of alcohol, and 27 days after the U.S. Justice Department on Jan. 2 arrests 10,000 “radicals” under a plan inspired by J. Edgar Hoover, 24. Ten days after Dow is born, actress Lana Turner is born on Feb. 8 in Wallace ID. Hollywood legend says a reporter for a Hollywood newspaper discovers her, as she wears a tight sweater and sips a soda in Schwab’s Drugstore on Sunset Boulevard. The reporter recommends her to movie-director Mervyn LeRoy, and she becomes a blonde bombshell in movies and a top pinup girl in WWII. The interesting thing about her birth so close to that of Dow’s is that as a Marine officer in California in WWII, Dow says he once walked behind her as she sat at a restaurant or night club table and deliberately “accidentally” dragged his arm across her strapless back. She gave him a dirty look. On July 10 is born David Brinkley, who, to-gether with Chet Huntley, will anchor the NBC national news for decades in the middle of the 20th century, until Huntley, a smoker, dies of lung cancer. In his later years, Brinkley sells out, when he didn’t need to (didn’t he make a good wage as co-anchor of NBC’s national news?), by doing TV commercials for agribusiness giant Archer Daniels Midland. A curious thing about Brinkley not many people know is that North Carolina Sen. Jesse Helms, as outrageous a racist and fas-

cist (but tied with Texas Sen. Phil Gramm, frustrating Texans who want to com-plain about Helms), got his start in politics when wealthy right-wingers pick him,

a local TV weatherman, to go to Washington as a counterbalance for the per-ceived liberal Brinkley, also of North Carolina. Because of his weatherman job, Helms possessed name-ID. The GOP needs to nominatepersons who make a name for themselves outside politics. In point of fact, Brinkley, in his NBC years, at most could be called a moderate anywhere in the country except the South and portions of the sparsely populated West (dominated by rancher-as-king barons).

1920, Feb. 11, Martha Emeline Thompson Hammer Heard dies at age 85 in

Reagan Wells TX less than three months before, as part of the 1920 “Red Scare,”

two Italian immigrants, Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzette, are arrested on May 5 on charges of robbery and murder of two payroll couriers in Braintree MA; despite flimsy evidence and a worldwide outcry, Sacco and Vanzette will be ex-ecuted on Aug. 23. Karol Josef Wojtyla, who will become Pope John Paul II on Oct. 16, 1978, is born on May 18, 1920, in Wadowice, Poland. After serving as pope for 26 years, John Paul dies on April 2, 2005, at 84. On Aug. 26, 1920, the 19th Amendment, granting women the right to vote, is adopted.




Wyatt Hubbard Heard, probably before 1920, when a Uvalde barber nicked a mole under his chin.


My uncles John, 20, (left), and Deck, 22, astride horses in 1920 photo. I think their younger sister Bessie, 18 or 19, took the picture. I apologize for the contrast of this photo. This is the best I can do with it. These are real cowboys. They sit outside the 1914 house’s yard fence to the west (a few yards short of the Dry Frio Canyon dirt road). The house appears between and behind them. You can make out the bottom of the windmill (and part of the top) beyond John to the left. Beyond the windmill is the northern half of what I call the Little Round Mountain half a mile to the east of the house. There is a 1949 photo showing me mowing the scraggly grass in the western portion of the ground around the house shows the fence you see here from its western side.


1920, Aug. 7, John Albert Cummings dies of skin cancer at age 70 in Reagan Wells TX 10

days before actress Maureen O’Hara (real name: Maureen Fitz-Simons) is born on Aug. 17 in Millwall, near Dublin, Ireland. O’Hara’s two best films probably are 1941’s How Green Was My Valley and 1952’s The Quiet Man. John Albert Cummings dies 15 days before science-fiction writer Ray Bradbury (real name: Ray Douglas Spaul-ding) is born, Aug. 22, in Waukegan IL, and a month and two days after Franklin Delano Roosevelt is nominated on July 5 for vice president on the Democratic ticket headed by Ohio Gov. James M. Cox. Actor Mickey Rooney (real name: Joe Yule Jr.), 5-foot-3 of bouncing exuberance, is born on Sept. 23 in Brooklyn, New York. Rooney shares an Oscar for “significant contribution in bringing to the screen the spirit and personification of youth “with singer/actor Deanna Durbin” in 1938. He is nomi-nated for a best-supporting Oscar for 1979’s Black Stallion, and wins an Emmy in 19-82 for the TV movie Bill, about a retarded man. On Oct. 1, actor Walter Matthau (real name: Walter Matuschanskavasky) is born in New York City. After starring on Broadway in Neil Simon’s 1965 The Odd Couple, Matthau wins an Oscar for best-supporting actor in 1966’s Fortune Cookie and is nominated for 1971’s Kotch and 1975’s The Sunshine Boys. He probably should have won an Oscar for 1968’s movie The Odd Couple. Matthau dies July 1, 2000, at age 79. On Oct. 17 in Omaha NE, ac-tor Montgomery Clift is born. Clift will earn an Oscar nomination for his first film, 1948’s The Search and will be nominated three more times, but never win. The last three nominations come for 1951’s A Place in the Sun, 1953’s From Here To Eternity (where he is totalled miscast as Robert E. Lee Pruitt) and 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg. He also stars in 1948’s Red River, 1949’s The Heiress, 1958’s The Young Lions, 1959’s Lonelyhearts, and 1962’s Freud. Clift dies of a heart attack at 45 in 1966. Newspaper columnist James J. Kilpatrick is born Nov. 1. He will duel with Shana Alexander in a conservative-liberal debate on television’s 60 Minutes. On Nov. 18, U.S. Capt. Nathaniel B. Palmer discovers the frozen continent of Antarctica. Stan “the Man” Musial, who will become a Hall-of-Famer in baseball for the St. Louis Cardinals, is born on Nov. 21. Jazz musician Dave Brubeck is born on Dec. 6.




Byron Heard, of the Charlie Heard family (born 1913), shown at about age eight, which dates this photo to around 1921. Photo given to me by Sue Heard Helveston.

1922, Jan. 13, John G Heard, second son, second child of Minerva T. Gulley

Heard and Dow Hubbard Heard , is born in Waco TX in a house that stood on ground now part of the Baylor campus. John’s father will graduate five months later with a B.A. degree with honors from Baylor University. However, with a wife and two sons, the father cannot afford to attend a seminary and get a doctor’s degree, and this inability later will hurt the father. John is born seven weeks after future actor Rodney “I don’t get no respect” Dangerfield is born on Nov. 22, 1921. He dies on Oct. 5, 2004, at age 82. John is born three weeks after President Warren G. Harding on Dec. 23, 1921, pardons socialist Eugene V. Debs from prison (con-victed for “seditious” speeches) so he can “eat his Christmas dinner with his wife.” On March 20 in Bronx NY, actor-comedian Carl Reiner is born. He gains popu-larity as second banana to Sid Caesar on Caesar’s TV show (1950-54) and cre-ates the Dick Van Dyke Show (1961-66) and wins eight Emmy awards as a per-former, producer and writer. Born on June 10 in Grand Rapids MI is singer-actress Judy Garland (real name: Frances Gumm), who wins a special Oscar as “the best juvenile performer of the year” as Dorothy in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, a role originally intended for Shirley Temple, and wins a best-supporting-actress Oscar for 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg. She dies at 47 on June 22, 1969. Actor Jason Robards is born on July 22 in Chicago. He joins the Navy at 17, survives the bombing of Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, later wins the Navy Cross, second-highest award for valor, then starts a theater career after the war. Robards prefers the theater to film and in particular understands Eugene O’Neill’s plays because he comes from the same acting-and-alcoholic-family background. But he makes more than 50 major pictures and earns three Oscar nominations for best-supporting actor, winning two back-to-back for 1976’s All the President’s Men, as Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee, and in 1977’s Julia (the third: 1980’s Melvin and Howard, as Howard Hughes). Cancer kills Robards at age 78 Dec. 26, 2000, in a Bridgeport CT hospital. Actor Carroll O’Connor is born Aug. 2 in Bronx NY and will win five Emmys for playing Archie Bunker, a pickup-truck-with-rifle-type conservative in the TV series All in the Family (1971-79). O’Connor is superb as Bunker, but in real life is a liberal.


On Aug. 17 in St. Louis is born actress Shelley Winters (real name: Shirley Schrift) who will appear in about 100 films and win a supporting Oscar nomination for 1951’s A Place in the Sun, then win supporting Oscars for 1959’s The Diary of Anne Frank and 19-65’s A Patch of Blue, and also be nominated for 1972’s The Poseidon Adventure. On Sept. 22 in Yonkers NY is born actor-comedian Sid Caesar, who will star in TV’s Your Show of Shows in the 1950s. Caesar later will brag about drinking 20-year-old Scotch after a day’s shooting, but then admitting he was an alcoholic and giving up booze. Nov-elist Kurt Vonnegut Jr. is born on Nov. 11. Born on Christmas Eve in Grabton NC is movie-actress Ava Gardner, seductress extraordinaire, especially in 1954’s The Barefoot Contessa, with Humphrey Bogart. In 1922 British Egyptologists Howard Carter and George Herbert discover Tutankhamen’s tomb. George McGovern is born on July 19. He will run for president as the Democratic nominee against President Richard Nixon in 1972. McGovern, an extremely smart and a decent man loses in a landslide, and would have lost anyway, but Republican dirty tricks and Nixon’s Watergate scandal piled on the numbers. The scandal forced Nixon to resign in 1974. Author William Manchester is born on April 1. In addition to several terrific books, he starts a multi-volume biography of Winston Churchill, which he is unable to finish in his late 70s because of mental disability. We are twice indebted to Manchester for correcting the historical record on important matters. His research showed that the word used by Brig. Gen. Anthony Clement McAuliffe when Germans demanded the surrender of his 17,000-man 101st Airborne Division at Bastogne was not “Nuts!” but “Shit!” War correspondents cleaned up McAuliffe’s language for family newspapers back home, and one must admit “Nuts” is the prefect substitute in “acceptable” language Even in the 1970movie “Patton” the “Nuts” versionis given. A member of Napoleon’s Old Guard used the same word, “Merde!” at twilight at Waterloo 130 years earlier after a British commander of artillery shouted, “Brave Frenchmen, surrender!” The Old Guard, with Napoleon for 20 years and at best faced a bleak future after Waterloo. The British artillery wiped them out. Why are these corrections important? Because they show how men really talk in the stress of battle. The second correction Manchester gave us is of the image of movie-actor John Wayne, who visited a quadriplegic ward in a military hospital after WWII and intended to speak to the wounded veterans. But those veterans with ghastly wounds knew all about “macho” Wayne and his heroics in war movies (when no one shot back at him), and they booed so loud Wayne could not speak and after a moment simply left the room. The man who would become Pope John Paul II is born in Poland.

1922, the Teapot Dome scandal torpedoes the administration of President Warren G.

Harding. Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall leases Navy oil reserves in Elk Hills CA and Teapot Dome in Wyoming to a pair of wealthy oilmen in return for kickbacks to Fall. In one respect, it is difficult to understand why this even smeared Harding. In his campaign he pledged “a return to normalcy (not a real word),” and what is more normal than a gov-ernment official, especially a Republican, using public resources for private gain? News-papers immediately called it the Teapot Dome scandal instead of the Elk Hills scandal, because “Elk Hills” carries positive connotations. On Harding’s return from a trip to Alas-ka, where he heard of the scandal, Harding died on Aug. 2, 1923, in San Francisco, ma-king Calvin Coolidge president. Herbert Hoover later will be blamed for much of the government’s hands-off policies that helped exacerbate the effects of the Great Depression that began in 1929 and which Coolidge bore equal responsibility for. Coolidge may be best remembered for a line he delivered to someone at a banquet who said he bet he could get Coolidge to say more than two words: “You lose.”


1923, Dec. 15, David Charles (Barbara Langworthy’s husband) is born nearly a year after

actress Jean Stapleton is born on Jan. 19. Stapleton will star as Edith on All in the Family, with Carroll O’Connor as Archie Bunker. Ten days after Stapleton’s birth, on Jan. 29, screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky (real name: Sydney Chayefsky) is born in Bronx NY. Chayefsky will win three screenplay Oscars for 1955’s Marty, 1971’s The Hospital, and 1976’s Network. He dies in 1981. Two days later, popular-novelist Norman Mailer, who uses “fudge” for “fuck” in his first book, is born on Jan. 31 in Long Branch NJ. Charles E. “Chuck” Yeager, who will become the first man to break the speed of sound, in 1947 (see Oct. 15, 1947), is born on Feb. 13. Yeager celebrates his 79th birth-day in 2002. On May 7 in Michigan City, Indiana, is born actress Anne Baxter, a grand-daughter of architect Frank Lloyd Wright, who will win a supporting Oscar for 1946’s The Razor’s Edge and earn another nomination for 1950’s All About Eve. Baxter dies at 62 of a stroke in 1985. Ed McMahon, sidekick for Johnny Carson during the 30 years of Carson’s run on NBC’s The Tonight Show, is born on March 6 in Detroit. Actor Charlton Heston (real name: Charles Carter) is born Oct. 4 in Evanston IL. A political liberal and demonstrator for racial justice in the 1960s, Heston wins an Oscar for 19-59’s Ben-Hur after playing Moses in 1956’s The Ten Commandments. He later plays Michelangelo in 1965’s The Agony and the Ecstasy. After the 1960s, he does a po-litical-180 and becomes one of the least-liked actors to many Americans but never doubts his greatness as an actor (which he never shows, even in the gimmie films with Christian-religious emphasis). He horns in on a life-achievement award ceremony for Gregory Peck by stopping Peck on his way to the podium as if he and Peck are equals. Heston never wins another Oscar despite playing the lead in several major movies. He is as good as they come playing himself, a strutting blowhard, just as Bette Davis, Steve McQueen, Sterling Hayden and John Wayne could beat anyone playing them. Heston becomes head of the National Rifle Association at the end of the 20th century and is as fervent in that role as in liberal and civil-rights causes three and four decades earlier. Hes-ton turns into as big a turkey, as far as liberals are concerned, as another previous liberal-turned-reactionary, the affable but distracted and sleepy Ronald Reagan (who is nomi-nated for no Oscars in a 54-film career, with his best performance probably coming in 1942’s King’s Row, (“Where’s the rest of me?”) and his nadir perhaps reached in 19-51’s Bedtime for Bonzo). As governor of California, Reagan triples the state debt, then does the same thing with the national debt as president.


David Charles is born a little less than two months after Montana Sen. Thomas J. Walsh on Oct. 25 reveals evidence in the Teapot Dome scandal that will result in the conviction of Secretary of the Interior Albert B. Fall and Mammoth Oil Co. owner Harry F. Sinclair (remember Sinclair service stations, with the green dinosaur, now Sham-rock?). Born half a year before David, on May 26 in Minneapolis, is actor James Arness (real name: James Aurness), who played Marshal Matt Dillon on the longtime tele-vision series Gunsmoke French pantomimist Marcel Marceau is born on March 22. Bob Dole, who will become Republican majority leader in the U.S. Senate and run unsuccessfully against Bill Clinton in 1996, is born July 22.


1924, Jan. 31, Clarence Richard Nelson is born three days before former President Woodrow Wilson dies on Feb. 3. Dick is born less than two weeks before the first per-formance, on Feb. 12, of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue in New York City. On Feb. 19 in New York City is born actor Lee Marvin, who, like Richard Boone (see 1916), is a craggy-faced, deep-voiced actor who will play mainly tough-guy roles. Marvin will win a best-actor Oscar for his role in 1965’s Cat Balou. In 1924, American inventor Clarence Birdseye develops a process for freezing food for retail sale.

1924, March 30, John Henry Heard and Arvie Jones marry 12 days after the U.S.

House on March 18 passes a $2 billion Soldiers’ Bonus Bill on which the Senate will concur, and President Calvin Coolidge will veto, but Congress ultimately overrides the veto. I must include this great story, which I remember from a family publication that Arvie’s grandson Jerald Corder produces following each Heard reunion. Arvie visited the canyon earlier in the 1920s and attended a party at which someone decided to take a group to another place in an early day car, probably a Model T Ford. John asked her if she would go there with him. As soon as the other girls at the party learned that, they told Arvie she could not go with John because he was so-and-so’s boyfriend. Arvie thought on that a moment, then said to herself, “He invited me.” And she went with him. A couple of years later they married.


Four days after John and Arvie marry, actor Marlon Brando is born in Omaha NE on April 3 (the exact same day singer-actress Doris Day is born; see below). Brando will be nominated four times in a row for a best-actor Oscar (1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire [“Stellllah!”], 1952’s Viva Zapata!, 1953’s Julius Caesar (as Marc Antony), and 1954’s On the Waterfront [“I coulda been a contender”]). He wins for the last one, then will win a second Oscar for a supporting role in 1972’s The Godfather, which he refuses to accept, in protest against treatment of American Indians (this is two years after George C. Scott declines a best-actor Oscar for Patton after it is awarded), and Bran-do earns another supporting nomination for 1989’s A Dry White Season. On April 3, in Cincinnati, is born singer-actress Doris Day (real name: Doris von Kappelhoff), a better actress than commonly accorded (nominated for best-actress Oscar for 1959’s Pillow Talk, with Rock Hudson, and probably should have been nominated for 1956’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, with Jimmy Stewart). Day did many light comedies prior to her collaboration with Hudson in even fluffier, approved-for-families comedies, promp-ting this classic line about Day from comedian and social commentator Bennett Serf: “I knew her before she was a virgin.”


For those who think a great actor, Brando, and a great singer (also actress), Doris Day, cannot be born on the same day without divine design, be informed Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died on the exact same day, July 4, 1826, precisely 50 years after their participation in the Declaration of Independence; also, William Shakespeare, the greatest writer in English, and Miguel de Cervantes, the greatest writer in Spanish (Don Quixote), died on exactly the same day, April 23, 1616. Previously mentioned above (see 1924), Jimmy Carter, a future president, and William Rehnquist, a future chief justice of the United States, are born on Oct. 1, 1924.


Another Founding Father, James Monroe (1758-1831), also died on July 4, in the year 1831, in New York City. A veteran of the American Revolution, Monroe did not serve in the Continental Congress that adopted the Declaration of Independence (he aged only 18). He studied law with Jefferson 1780-83, at ages 22-25, then served in the Congress in 1783-86. He opposed adoption of the 1787 Constitution on the ground it created an overly centralized government (and this occurred 80 years before the post-Civil War 14th Amendment extended the Bill of Rights and the rest of the Constitution to the states -- and even that extension did not begin to become recognized until a dissent in (Benjamin) Gitlow v. New York by Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in 1925, be-cause judges assumed the 14th applied only to the rights of former slaves, until they be-came aware the plain language applied to everyone; this is called the Doctrine of Incorporation).


Gitlow is a complicated decision. The high court affirmed Gitlow’s conviction for distrib-uting socialist materials in New York, but at the same time held that the 14th Amendment extended free speech to the states. Holmes dissented on the ground he would have found Gitlow innocent on the same reasoning. In succeeding years, the high court held individual amendments in the Bill of Rights extended to the states by the 14th, finally ruling that the entire Bill of Rights extended to the states. Congress sent the 14th to the states on June 13 1866, more than a year after Appomattox. Unreconstructed rebels argue the 14th Amendment never won adoption. North and South Carolina at first rejected it, but subsequent legislatures in those states adopted it. The U.S. secretary of state proclaimed the amendment adopted, ignoring attempted withdrawals of adoption by Ohio and New Jersey. Congress passed a resolution declaring the 14th to be adopted and directed the secretary of state to promulgate that. However, the secretary waited until Georgia, which earlier rejected it, adopted it. Also, the unreconstructed rebels said precinct judges in many cases denied Confederate veterans the right to vote on the amendment. The secre-tary of state declared it adopted on July 28, 1868. No serious attempt to declare it not adopted has been made since that time, but a few Republicans in the 21st century favored its repeal . Incidentally, Gitlow later went to the Soviet Union and got into a hot debate with Stalin before a Soviet body.

Monroe served the new federal government in several capacities, including eight years as president, 1816-1824. He signed the 1820 Missouri Compromise that admitted Maine as a free state and Missouri as a slave state at the same time and forbade slavery in new western territories above what became known as the Mason-Dixon Line; the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 repealed the Compromise, allowing for “popular sovereignty” in which citizens of western territories could choose to be slave or free, leading to armed conflict in “Bloody Kansas,” where John Brown and his band murdered five pro-slavers. The Kansas-Nebraska Act also spurred creation of the Republican Party (replacing the Whigs), which elect Abraham Lincoln president six years later. The GOP did not or-ganize in Illinois until 1856.


Monroe acquired Florida from Spain and in 1823 pronounced the Monroe Doctrine, which warned foreign powers to stay out of the Western Hemisphere (that didn’t stop Spain from ruling Cuba or the British from controlling the Bahamas or the French from basing a penal colony on Devil’s Island off the coast of South America).


Born on April 16 is composer Henry Mancini in Cleveland, who wins four Oscars for the score of 1961’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the song Moon River in that movie; the title song in 1962’s Day of Wine and Roses and the score for 1982’s Victor/Victoria. He also wins more than 20 Emmys. Born on June 25 is director Sydney Lumet in Phil-adelphia. Lumet is best remembered for 1957’s Twelve Angry Men, which he completes in one room in 19 days on a $343,000 budget, and which earns him an Oscar nomination; 1962’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night; 1964’s Fail Safe; 1976’s Network, Oscar nomination; and 1981’s Prince of the City, for which he shares a screenplay Oscar.


George Herbert Walker Bush is born on June 11 in Connecticut. He becomes Ronald Reagan’s vice president despite criticizing in the 1980 GOP primary campaign the lat-ter’s economic plan (cut taxes, more for defense and balance the budget) as “Voodoo economics”; Bush proves correct, as Reagan triples the national debt to more than $4 trillion (some argue, lamely, Reagan spent so much for defense it caused the collapse of the Soviet Union, which could not match Reagan’s layout; in fact, Reagan’s fantasy of “Star Wars,” which the Soviets believed possible, given America’s record on technology, did not spend nearly enough to triple the national debt; the Soviet Union collapsed be-cause of a half century of “containment,” proposed by diplomat George Kennan under Harry Truman, a policy followed by Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, and Reagan; Kennan argued the communist system would fail because of its misreading of human nature: thinking people would be willing to support “from those according to their ability, to those according to their need”; people will not work as hard for someone else -- No matter how deserving -- as they will for them-selves). Reagan’s tax cuts for the rich, plus Congress’ insistence on maintaining funding for social programs despite less revenue because of the cuts, drove up the debt.


With the outrageous “Willie Horton ad,” falsely smearing Massachusetts Gov. Michael Dukakis as a releaser of convicted rapists and murderers, Bush defeats Dukakis for the presidency in 1988, then loses to Bill Clinton in 1992, when only Clinton among major Democrats, like Mario Cuomo, thought Bush could be beaten. To back up a moment, for those of you who think the casting director erred in picking Brando to play Antony in 1953 after Brando played Zapata and in Streetcar, you are right. No one who watched Brando playing Antony could forget Brando’s earlier work. The role called for a talented but almost unknown actor, just as Liam Neeson got picked for the starring role in 19-93’s Schindler’s list (for which he should have won the best-actor Oscar). Similarly, Neeson should not now be cast as a well-known character.


1924, Aug. 12, Lawrence Langworthy and Laura Elizabeth “Bessie” Heard marry three days before conservative activist Phyllis Schlafly, champion of a woman’s place is in the home, is born on Aug. 15, five weeks after the Conference for Progressive Political Ac-tion on July 4 nominates a former Republican and reform senator from Wisconsin, Robert La Follete, for president. Eight days before the marriage, author Leon Uris (1956’s Battle Cry, 1958’s Exodus), who will serve in the Marines in the South Pacific in World War II, is born in Baltimore on Aug. 3. Buddy Hackett is born on Aug. 31 in Brooklyn and will become one of the world’s great standup comics. Lawrence and Bessie marry a month and four days before, on Sept. 16, actress (and future wife of Humphrey Bogart) Lauren Bacall (real name: Betty Joan Perske) is born in the Bronx NY. Jimmy Carter, a future president, and William Rehnquist, a future chief justice of the United States, are born on Oct. 1. Actress Geraldine Page is born on Nov. 22 in Kirksville, MO, and will earn eight Oscar nominations, including for 1961’s Summer and Smoke and 1962’s Sweet Bird of Youth, winning the eighth time for 1985’s A Trip To Bountiful. Six days later, on Nov. 28 in Los Angeles, is born actress Gloria Grahame, who will win a sup-porting Oscar for 1952’s The Bad and the Beautiful. She dies in 1981. Richard Nixon’s secretary of state, Gen. Alexander Haig, is born on Dec. 2. During one of Nixon’s periods of disorientation, a reporter at a news briefing asks who is in charge, and Haig famously says, “I am.”

Wyatt Hubbard Heard, my father’s father, chopping wood in the Front Lane of the 1914 house (about where I almost stepped on a rattlesnake in 1940 in the twilight, but my brother Wyatt pulled me back; see text for 1940 below). A Uvalde barber nicked a mole on his extremely sensitive skin (his lips would blister if he stayed out long in the sun) under his chin in 1920, which developed into skin cancer that ate through his throat to his mouth. Wyatt’s sons gave him morphine shots, with one son holding him down and another giving the shot. This writer never understood that, having a morphine shot in a hospital one time, when all four wisdom teeth got pulled, and I begged for another. Photo taken about a year before he died in 1926 at age 53. My brother Wyatt recently (2005) shared with me an insight of his I agree with. A shrewd busi-nessman, Hub Heard might well have duplicated, at an earlier time, what Dolph Briscoe Sr., a descendant of “a long line of Southern plantation owners [in Missis-sippi; p. 199, Fenley’s 1957 book],” did amass what at the time amounted to a for-tune, much of it as a result of lobbying the federal government for procattle-industry legislation during the Great Depression (mainly getting Congress to recognize cattle as a commodity, entitling cattlemen to receive federal benefits). Both Hub and Briscoe Sr. brimmed with natural entrepreneurial talent, like Uvalde-founder Reading Wood Black (see 1854 above). Twice elected president of the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers’ Association, in 1932 and 1933, the elder Briscoe, born Sept. 9, 1890, in Fulshear, Fort Bend County, Texas (a few miles west of Houston), to which his ancestors immigrated, died suddenly on July 15, 1954, at age 63, leaving 14,000 acres in the Dry Frio Canyon to his son. The senior came to Uvalde County in 1911, at age 21. He cultivated politicians and bank and railroad executives, inviting several of them to deer hunts. Those whom he smoozed included Jesse Jones and former governors R.L. Sterling, William P. Hobby and Dan Moody. The estate inherited by Dolph Jr. amounted to $250,000 (even though Briscoe Sr. twice “went broke,” in 1921 and 1932). To be sure, the son, like the best steward in Jesus’ parable, expanded that many times over, mainly purchasing lands near Catarina, Texas (in Dimmit County, about 60 miles south of Uvalde). By the time his father died, Dolph Jr. already served in the Texas House of Representatives, where he helped start the Farm (and Ranch-) toMarket highway system (and the son later led the fight to eliminate the screwworm fly by releasing from airplanes millions of sterile male flies). Recall that Hub’s father Pike did not buy any land in the canyon, going for 50-cents an acre in the 1890s, when propert sold for as little as 90 cents an acre. Hub held perhaps 4,000 acres at his death at age 53. In this photo, what I call the “Little Round Mountain” about half a mile east of the 1914 house is visible in the background. That hill is immediately to the right of the current paved FM 1051 a few hundred yards before one reaches the 1909 Heard School/Church. It is the first eminence I walked around (to the right) on my trek to the higher ridges behind on my deer hunt in 1948 or early 1949 (The Deer That Would Not Die).


The “Scopes Monkey Trial “ of 1925 is held in Dayton, Tennessee, in July of this year. John Scopes is accused of teaching evolution to high school students, violating state law. Each side welcomed this trial. Famous defense attorney Clarence Darrow of Chicago volunteers his services for the defense, and Bible-thumper William Jennings Bryan of Nebraska, who thrice ran for and lost the presidency as the Democratic nominee, volun-teered his services for the prosecution. The trial judge refuses to allow Darrow to call scientists to the stand to testify in favor of evolution, so, in a brilliant stroke, he proposes to put Bryan on the stand and “cross-examine” Bryan on the Bible. Bryan agrees. Dar-row’s questions ridicule some of the stories in the Bible, such as Jonah and the whale (“big fish”), but he scores no real points until he gets Bryan to agree that the first days of creation described in the first chapter of Genesis may have been longer than the ordinary days of 1925. Indeed, fundamentalists never forgave Bryan for straying from the ortho-doxy of seven literal days of creation. Darrow wins the case intellectually, but the jury convicts Scopes, anyway. However, the judge errs in fining Scopes $100, and the Tennessee Supreme Court overturns the conviction on the ground the jury should have imposed a penalty. Bryan died a few days later after eating an enormous breakfast.


1925, this is a good place to put a couple of stories I heard in the 1940s about my Great-

Uncle Charlie (I don’t know precisely when either occurred). As a younger man, Charlie drank heavily. But on Sundays he’d get up in church and swear he’d never drink again. But the next Saturday night would find him drunk again. In the early days of the 20th century, many Protestant churches required sinners to sit in what they called the “anxious seat,” facing the congregation while they wrestled “publicly with the devil for dominance of their soul” (p. 20 of Conceived in Liberty: Joshua Chamberlain, William Oates, and the American Civil War, by Mark Perry, Viking-Penguin, New York, 1997, about the two commanders, Chamberlain of the 20th Maine, and Oates of the 15th Alabama regi-ments at the Little Round Top on the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg. This sounds similar to what Charlie did. This practice rings strange to us today, but it echoes the Ro-man Catholic belief that people need to confess their sins (and be forgiven, by a priest who tells them what they must do, e.g., “Say 20 Hail Marys”). Some folks clearly feel a need to confess wrongs.


The second story (my favorite) about Charlie may have occurred as late, say, as the 1950s. He drove toward his place west of Uvalde (I think on U.S. 90) one day and suddenly turned left onto his road without indicating that move to following traffic. As luck would have it, an 18-wheel truck followed close behind him, and the truck driver, trying at that moment to pass Charlie, steered his large vehicle through the barrow ditch on the left side and then took out close to 200 feet of fence. After the dust settled, Charlie remar-ked, “Bine golly, I don’t know what the fuss is. I’ve been turning left here for 30 years.” He frequently used “Bine golly” for “By golly.”


1925, Oct. 6, Wayne Morrison Herzig (Beverly Langworthy’s husband) is born the same

day author/journalist Shana Alexander is born. Alexander will duel with conservative columnist James J. Kilpatrick in a debate segment on CBS’s hugely popular 60 Minutes magazine on television in the 1970s. Actor Paul Newman is born Jan. 26 in Cleve-land and is nominated five times for an Oscar before finally winning on a sixth for 1986’s The Color of Money (the others included 1961’s Hustler, 1963’s Hud, and 1967’s The Absence of Malice). He so hated his first movie, 1955’s The Silver Chalice, he took out ads asking people not to watch it, but cable channels still showed it nearly half a century later. Newman memorably pairs with Robert Redford in two of the most-entertaining movies ever, 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and 1973’s The Sting. At age 80 on the May 23, 2005, David Letterman Show on CBS, Newman graciously says to a Letterman question that his wife, Joanne Woodward, is the better actor of the two. He notes she won her first Oscar in her second (actually third) movie, 1957’s The Three Faces of Eve. Newman opens several food lines (more than 80), beginning with a salad dressing, and gives $200 million to charity a year. Newman is born almost two we-eks before actor Jack Lemmon (real name: John Uhler Lemmon III) is born Feb. 8 in Boston. In his third movie, 1955’s Mr. Roberts, Lemmon wins a best-supporting Oscar as Ensign Pulver (Lemmon served as a Navy ensign in WWII). He wins the best-actor Oscar for 1973’s Save the Tiger and is nominated six more times for Oscars for 1959’s Some Like It Hot, 1960’s The Apartment, 1962’s Day or Wine and Roses, 1979’s The China Syndrome, 1980’s Tribute, and 1982’s Missing. He also stars with Walter Matthau in 1968’s The Odd Couple and 1993’s Grumpy Old Men. He wins best-actor at Cannes for Syndrome and Missing. In 1988, the American Film Institute gives him its Life Achievement Award. Lemmon probably is remembered best for Some Like It Hot, with Marilyn Monroe (real name: Norma Jean Mortenson) and Tony Curtis (real name Bernard Schwartz), this writer’s favorite comedy.


A week and a half after Lemmon is born, on Feb. 17, is born actor Hal Holbrook (real name: Harold Rowe Holbrook Jr.), on Feb. 17 in Cleveland, and four months later actor Rod Steiger (full name: Rodney Stephen Steiger) is born on April 14 in Washington NY. Holbrook will become a master imitator of Mark Twain and tour the country giving his performance as Twain (I interviewed him backstage in Long Beach CA on May 2, 1963). Holbrook wins the first of several Emmys for the TV series, The Senator (1970-71), im-personates Lincoln in Sandburg’s Lincoln (1976) and in 1985’s North and South. Also in 1976, Holbrook plays Deep Throat in All the President’s Men, with Robert Redford, Jane Alexander, Dustin Hoffman, and Jason Robards. Among his memorable movies are 1976’s Midway and 1977’s Julia. Steiger will win a best-actor Oscar for 19-67’s In the Heat of the Night, with Sidney Poitier, and earlier earn two Oscar nomina-tions for 1954’s On the Waterfront and 1965’s The Pawnbroker.


Actress Maureen Stapleton is born on June 21 in Troy NY, and will go on to win a best-actress Oscar for 1981’s Reds, with Warren Beatty, and earn two other nomina-tions. Wayne Herzig is born in the same year John Thomas Scopes is tried (in July) in Dayton TN for teaching evolution to high school students (Scopes is arrested on May 5). In a cross-examination of “Bible expert” and thrice Democratic nominee for president William Jennings Bryan, Clarence Darrow wins the admission that one or more of the six days of creation described in Genesis could have been longer than 24 hours, meaning, Darrow argues, the Bible is subject to interpretation. Fundamentalists, who believe every word of the Bible is literally true, never forgave Bryan for this admission. (The day did not always last 24 hours; many millions of years ago it ran shorter than that and lengthened over the millennia as all orbits slow down; in a “perfect” universe created by a perfect God, days would be precisely of one length and never change, all planets would have circular instead of elliptical orbits (the Roman Catholic church taught those for centuries, finally embarrassing itself in 1630 by convicting Gallileo Gallilie for supporting Nicolaus Copernicus’ heliocentric “universe” (actually Solar System) and confining Gallileo to house arrest the remaing 12 years of his life, and the year would not be 365-1/4 days long.) Scopes got convicted and fined $100. The Tennessee Supreme Court upheld the state law banning evolution from schools but reversed the conviction because the trial jury, not the judge, should have imposed the fine.


A History Channel program on Oct. 31, 2005, explained, to me, why there are a dozen references in the Old Testament to giants, the most famous of which is Genesis 6:4, “There were giants on the earth in those days.” Ancient people encountered dinosaur bones just like we do. They wove monsters into their myths (so did the unknown author of Beowulf). The legendry griffin (body and hind legs of a lion, head, wings and front legs of an eagle, looks much like one of the dinosaurs. Woolly mammoths, not as hoary as din-osaurs, presented a different problem. Ancient man would have looked for its eyes in front of its skull, like his own and those of carnivores, not on the sides, where plant-eaters (herbivores) and other prey of carnivores held eyes. Man saw one oblong hole in the cen-ter of the skull, where the tusks rooted and the nasal passage existed. Voila! We have a giant man with one eye -- Cyclops! Homer told of such in Odysseus. The Sphinx features the head of a man and the body of a lion. Other creatures have attributes they shouldn’t have, like the ancient Greek Pegasus, the horse with wings, which Mobil Oil adopted centuries later and painted him red. The mythological unicorn no doubt found its origin in ancient bones, but Noah couldn’t find the unicorn, so it did not make it into the Ark.

In the next month, on Aug. 8, 1925, hundreds of white-sheeted members of the Ku Klux Klan march down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D. C. It is the high point in the history of that racist, despicable organization. Lemmon, like Humphrey Bogart and Henry Fonda, stars in several great movies, including 1960’s The Apartment, 1962’s The Day of Wine and Roses, 1979’s The China Syndrome, and 1982’s Missing. Author Gore Vidal is born on Oct. 3. Margaret Thatcher, future prime minister of England, is born on Oct. 13. Born on Oct. 16 in London is actress Angela Lansbury, who will be nominated three times for an Oscar (but does not win), for 1944’s Gaslight, with Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman, 1945’s The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate. (Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey). The lat-ter will be pulled from circulation after the assassination of John F. Kennedy Nov. 22, 1963, but becomes a must-see movie for film aficionados a couple of decades later. Lansbury also stars in 1944’s National Velvet, 1949’s Samson and Delilah (as De-lilah’ssister), 1958’s The Long Hot Summer, and later plays the lead in the TV series Murder She Wrote. Humor-columnist Art Buchwald is born on Oct. 20. Late-night talk-show host Johnny Carson, who will do NBC’s Late Night Show for 30 years, 1962-1992, is born on Oct. 23 in Corning, Iowa. Carson dies in 2005 at age 79. Comedian Jonathan Winters is born on Nov. 11. William F. Buckley, conservative guru, col-umnist and East Coast darling of Republicans, is born on Nov. 24 (See John Kenneth Galbraith, 1909). Buckley celebrates his 76th birthday in 2001. Born on Dec. 8, in New York City, is dancer-actor Sammy Davis Jr. Five days later, on Dec. 13 in West Plains, Missouri, is born actor Dick Van Dyke, who will win three Emmys in a row (1964-66) for his TV production, The Dick Van Dyke Show. Also born in 1925 (date unknown) is actor Richard Burton (real name: Richard Walter Jenkins) in Pontrhydfen, South Wales, who will be nominated seven times for an Oscar but never wins. Arthor William Styron is born on June 11. Peter Sellers (real name: Richard Henry Sellers) is born on Sept 8 in Southsea, England. Sellers’ two breakthrough movies come in the same year, 1964: Dr. Strangelove and The Pink Panther. In the former, a deliciously wicked anti-war satire directed by Stanley Kubrick, he plays three roles: the President, a British officer and, most convincingly, a mad ex-Nazi scientist. His Inspector Clouseau role in Panther unfortunately typecasts him for most of the rest of his professional career, with only Being There (1979), where he plays a simple-minded gardener whose one-liners are considered the remarks of a genius, once more shows his acting and comedic skill.


1925, Dec. 17, the date the U.S. Army suspends Col. Billy Mitchell for five years without

pay for accusing his superiors of “almost treasonable administration of national defense.” President Calvin Coolidge does not reverse the suspension, but he restores Mitchell’s pay. Mitchell resigns, anyway. Mitchell proved his contention that the next war would be fought mainly in the air by sinking an out-dated battleship with bombs from an airplane, but his superiors resented his impertinence. The Japanese prove Mitchell’s point at Pearl Harbor, but he is never given full credit by the military for his insight. Mitchell is played in a movie about his life by Gary Cooper, who also played the maverick architect in Ayan Ryan’s novel Fountainhead, a one-sided view of the talented few in the world and the so-called ignorant mass of men who only want to suppress the great minds, which is nonsense.

1926, Jan. 11, Wyatt Hubbard Heard (grandfather) dies of throat cancer at age 53 in the

house he and his sons (together with Uvalde carpenter and Uvalde nurseryman Billy Gaines) built in 1914 two miles above Reagan Wells TX. His death comes a month be-fore William Johnson McDonald dies at age 81 (b. Dec. 21, 1844, near the town of Paris in the Republic of Texas) on Feb. 8 of this year, McDonald of Paris TX dies of prostate and bladder cancer, leaving most of his $1.25 million estate to the University of Texas, to UT’s surprise (the school never heard of him), for an astronomical observatory named McDonald for William’s family. The gift would be worth about $13 million in 2005.

1926, March 10, Marietta Martin (Heard) is born two and a half months after actress

Patricia Neal is born Jan. 20 in Packard KY. Neal will win an Oscar for best-supporting actress for her performance in 1963’s Hud and is nominated for another Oscar for 19-68’s The Subject Was Roses. Marine Lt. Robert Heard sees Neal in a USO show in Korea in 1952. Marietta is born a month and a half before Britain’s Queen Elizabeth II is born on April 21. Actress Cloris Leachman is born April 30 in Des Moines. Leach-man will win an Oscar for best supporting actress in 1971’s The Last Picture Show and six Emmys. Although she wins beauty contests, including runner-up for Miss America, Leachman later often acts self-effacingly in striving for an “ugly” look, which she assumes in the latter part of Picture Show, demonstrating not only her acting ability but the fine line that divides beauty and homeliness. A month later, actress, and all-time movie sex-god-dess, Marilyn Monroe (real name: Norma Jean Mortenson) is born June 1 in Los Angeles. She dies in 1962 of an “overdose of barbiturates.” On June 28 in Brooklyn is born director-screenwriter-actor Mel Brooks (real name: Melvin Kaminsky), who will win an Oscar for the screenplay for 1968’s The Producers, and be nominated for the script for 1974’s Young Frankenstein and for the title song to 1974’s Blazing Saddles. Marietta is born two months before Rear Adm. Richard E. Byrd and Floyd Bennett make the first successful flight on May 9 over the North Pole. In 1926 British television pioneer John Logie Baird demonstrates the first television image. Born four days be-fore Marietta, on March 6 in New York City, is Alan Greenspan, who receives ap-pointments to four, four-year terms as chairman of the Federal Reserve System, 1987-2004. On April 28 is born novelist Harper Lee, who will write To Kill a Mockingbird. Fidel Castro is born July 13 and will launch a revolution against the Fulgencio Batista y Zaldivar regime in Cuba. It fails, and he is imprisoned. Castro attacks again in 1956 and on Jan.1, 1959, succeeds in forcing Batista to flee. Only later, long after the success of the revolution, does Castro reveal he is a communist.

1926, Aug. 14, Joanna McCann (Heard) is born six days after the birth of comedic genius

Stan Freberg on Aug. 8. Blue Bell, a famous ice cream made in Brenham, Texas, some-time in the 1980s asked Freberg to create for them a television ad. He dreams up one showing two barn doors being opened and revealing 30 grandmothers inside cranking oldtime ice cream freezers. Alas, Blue Bell didn’t have enough sense to accept it. Joanna is born 11 days after singer Tony Bennett (real name: Anthony Dominic Benedetto) is born on Aug. 3. No one ever sings I Left My Heart in San Francisco as well or with as much feeling. Bennett, who wins nine Grammas, is Frank Sinatra’s favorite male singer, but he never says who is his favorite male singer. Five weeks before Joanna is born, Con-gress establishes the Army Air Corps on July 2. Five weeks after Joann is born, ex-Ma-rine Gene Tunney outpoints heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey (thought by many to have been a draft dodger) in 10 rounds on Sept. 23 in Philadelphia before 135,000 fans (largest crowd to that point in sports history), who pay an astounding total of more than $2 million to watch in a driving rain.

1926, Oct. 19, Wyatt H Heard (Dow and Minerva’s third son, third child) is

born in Big Spring TX the day after actor George C. Scott (full name: George Campbell Scott) is born in Wise VA. In 1971, after making 10 movies, including 1961’s The Hustler, 1964’s Dr. Strangelove, 1967’s The Flim Flam Man, and 1970’s Patton, Scott denounces the Academy Awards as a meaningless, self-serving “meat market” and says he will refuse to accept an Oscar if awarded one, which he promptly is for the title role in Patton. He declines to accept it and also soon afterward rejects an Emmy for his performance in Arthur Miller’s The Price. On Oct. 31 American magician and escape artist Harry Houdini (born Erick Weiss in Hungary in 1874) dies a few days after a col-lege student strikes him in the stomach in his dressing room before Houdini prepared to brace himself in a feat often repeated on stage. My brother Wyatt is born in the same year Massachusetts-native Robert Goddard launches his first liquid-fueled rocket, which later inspires German scientist Wernher von Braun to create the V-2 rockets that terrorized London in World War II. Braun later helped the United States in its space program.

1926, Dec. 3, Beverly Nadine Langworthy (Herzig) is born in the same year American

Gertrude Ederle becomes the first woman to swim the English Channel. In 1926, British soldier T.E. Lawrence and author A.A. Milme publish Seven Pillars of Wisdom and Winnie-the-Pooh, respectively. Actor Leslie Nielsen is born Feb. 11. Nielsen will play gruff cop and detective movie roles until he discovers his gift for clowning, for playing a buffoon.


Leon Heard, probably a nephew of Lawrence Pike Heard, is shown at right-center at an outdoor meal in 1927. That looks like Great-Uncle Charlie Heard in the distance with the large hat. Robert, 14, met Leon together with Leon’s older brother, Wyatt, in 1944 (I think) in the Front Lane of the 1914 house. Wyatt aged 82, and Leon, about 80. Robert remembers his surprise when Wyatt stood as tall as Robert (over six feet) and whose hand equaled Robert’s in size. In those days, large men rarely lived to great age. Sue Heard Helveston probably gave me this photo.




Photo in 1927 shows Wyatt E. Heard in the middle and his younger brother, Leon, on his left. They probably are nephews of Lawrence Pike Heard. Wyatt and Leon rode as “Rangers” (Minute Men) after Indians who raided Uvalde in the late 1870s and early 1880s when they were 15 and 12 years old. Robert’s Great-Uncle Charlie, younger brother by 3-1/2 years of Hub Heard, is at right. All four men to Charlie’s right may be sons of Augustin Heard, but I know only the names of Wyatt and Leon. Sue Heard Helveston also gave me this photo. The names written above the two men at left are Tom and Billy.




Another group photo from 1927, when more than two branches of the Heard family gath-ered (the Hub and Charlie Heards, plus perhaps two sons of Augustin Heard, Wyatt and Leon. That may be Charlie’s boy Alvin seated at extreme left. Third from left on the ground is Hub’s third son, John. Between the couple to John’s left, and behind them, looks like my Uncle Deck, wearing a white hat. It’s hard to say who are the boys on the ground at right. The one kneeling on one knee with the knickerbocker cap may be my el-dest brother, Dow Jr., who would have been 7. To his left may be my brother John, who would have been 5. The fourth person (third man) standing at left is Charlie, with the big hat. The next man to his left is my father, Dow Sr. The man to his left is Wyatt, and slight-ly behind Wyatt is Leon. At the right end of the standing line is my Uncle Dan. The baby being held by the woman standing in front of my dad could be my brother Wyatt, age almost 1. Then that would me my mother holding him. It probably is not John’s first daughter Francis, because she got born Oct. 11 of 1927. Hub Heard died the previous year, 1926. Sue Heard Helveston gave me the photo in 1999.



1927 photograph in Uvalde of Confederate veterans on page 172 of Florence Fenley’s first book on Oldtimers. The occasion for the gathering is Uvalde’s Annual May Fete. No left-to-right identification is given. There are 12 men in the photo and three women, but only eight men and all three women are named below the photograph as being in it. The eight named men are: Mat Burney, Uvalde; James A. Robinson, Sabinal, Ed Downs, Uvalde; John B. King, Uvalde; James N. Martin, Marathon; William Mouser, Uvalde; W.P. Locke, Sabinal; C.T. McNair, Sabinal. Back row: Women on the back row are Mrs. J. A. Robinson, Mrs. John B. Baylor, and Mrs. Ed Taylor. Earlier in the Book, a biog-raphy of Houston Kennedy beginning on p. 99, says on page 104 that he “plans to attend the Confederate reunion which will be held jointly with the ‘Yankee Vets’ this July at Gettysburg. He is allowed a male attendant, both train fares paid there and back . . . ”


1927, July 17, Clarence Dexter Heard and Clara Bradshaw marry 13 days after playwright Neil

Simon is born in Bronx NY. Simon will become financially the most successful playwright in the history of American theater after writing for television’s top comedy show in the 1950s, Your Show of Shows, with Sid Caesar. Following his first successful play, 1961’s Come Blow Your Horn he will be nominated four times for best screenplay, for 1968’s The Odd Couple, 1975’s The Sunshine Boys, 1977’s The Goodbye Girl, and 1978’s California Suite. He wins the Pulitzer Prize in 1991 for Lost in Yonkers. Deck and Clara marry less than two months after Charles Lindbergh flies the Spirit of St. Louis from New York to

Paris on May 21. Three and a half months before Deck and Clara marry, on March 31 in Brooklyn, actor William Daniels is born, best remembered for his brilliant portrayal in the lead role, as John Adams, in the musical 1776 (this writer’s all-time favorite movie; makes me tear-up every time). On Aug. 7, actor Robert Shaw is born in Westhoughton, England, and will star in 1965’s The Battle of the Bulge, 1973’s The Sting, and 1975’s Jaws. He wins a best-supporting-actor Oscar as Henry VIII in 1966’s A Man for All Seasons. Shaw dies of a heart attack at age 51 in 1978. In 1927, American singer Al Jolson performs in the first motion picture with sound, The Jazz Singer. On Sept. 16, actor Peter Falk is born in New York City and twice will be nominated for an Oscar. On Jan. 17 is born singer/actress Eartha Kitt. Opera star Leontyne Price is born on Feb. 10. Actor Sidney Poitier is born Feb. 20 in Miami FL (to poor tomato growers from the Bahamas) and is nominated twice for an Oscar, winning for 1963’s Lillies of the Field. He also becomes the first black actor to win a life-achievement Oscar, in 1992. The next blacks to win for best actor, both in the same year, 2002, are Denzel Washington and Hallie Berry. Harry Belafonte and Robert Bork are born on March 1. What are the odds the greatest male singer from the Caribbean and a leading conservative judicial thinker whose brain remains in the 18th century would be born in the same year on the same day? This ought to, but won’t, make astrologers give up their nonsensical notion that alignment of the planets at the time of birth sculpts personalities, when disparate characters are born on the exact same day (best example: identical twins). (The same obtains for Marlon Brando and Doris Day, each born on April 3, 1924, and George W. Bush and Silvester Stallone, each born on July 6, 1946, not to mention the extraordinary coincidence of the deaths of the two principal actors in the Declaration of Independence, John Adams, the catalyst, and Thomas Jefferson, the author of the document, on precisely the 50th anniversary of that event, July 4, 1826.)

1927, Oct. 11, Frances Heard (Nelson), John and Arvie’s first child, is born three weeks be-

fore the biggest oil gusher in history blows in northeastern Iraq (an artificial country carved up by the British and French in 1921; its artificiality -- roughly made up of a third Sunni Muslims, a third Shia Muslims and a third Kurd Sunni Muslims, will lead to trouble for the West in the 21st century. It takes eight and a half days to control its explosive flow. Francis is born three weeks after popculture artist and filmmaker Andy Warhol is born Sept. 18 in Newark NJ. Warhol, the son of a Czech immigrant, will be best remembered for his remark, “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” He earns two Oscar nominations for supporting roles in 1975’s Shampoo and 1978’s Heaven Can Wait. Warhol dies in 1987. Frances is born 12 days after New York Yankee George HermanBabeRuth on Sept. 30 hits his 60th home run of the season (a record that will stand until Yankee Roger Maris tops it by one in a season longer by eight games in 1961; St. Louis Cardinal Mark McGwire, 6-5, 250, will break Maris’ re-cord with 70 home runs in 1998, and Chicago Cub Sammy Sosa will hit 66 the same year). (Barry Bonds ups the record to 73 in 2001, but there are huge questions about his possible use of steriods). On Oct. 31 in New York City is born actress Lee Grant, who will be nomi-nated for a supporting Oscar for 1951’s Detective Story, but be blacklisted because she re-fuses to testify against her husband, playwright Arnold Manoff, already on the Congressional blacklist. After 12 years of almost no film work, she wins a supporting Oscar for 1975’s Shampoo, earns two other nominations and wins two Emmys. She also ties for an Oscar for feature-length documentary in 1986 for Down and Out in America, an exposé of mass pov-erty that she directs and narrates. Actor Christopher Plummer is born on Dec. 13 in Toron-to. In 1927 President Calvin Coolidge says on Aug. 2 he will not be a candidate for a third term, stating, “I do not choose to run.” Comedian Harvey Korman, best known perhaps for his work on the Carol Burnett Show, is born on Feb. 15 in Chicago.




November 1927 photos of Dow Jr., John and Wyatt Heard, taken in Big Spring TX. Their father Dow Sr. wrote in his distinctive hand beneath the pictures: “Dow Hubbard Heard Jr., Age 7 years and 10 months; John G. Heard, Age 5 years and 10 months; Wyatt H. Heard, Age 13 months.” Dow Sr. put a period behind the middle initials of John and Wyatt, but the birth certificates did not use periods. However, both John and Wyatt in later years put the initial there that they knew their mother and father intended.

1928, Feb. 22, Barbara Langworthy (Charles) is born a month and a half before mo-

vie-actor James Garner (real name: James Scott Bumgarner) is born, April 7, in Norman OK. Garner stars in many movies, beginning bigtime in 1957’s Sayonara, with Marlon Brando, and starred in the Maverick TV series and later The Rockford Files on TV; in 2000, he played the CEO on TV’s Chicago Hope. He is hampered by a bad back, not bad knees, as is commonly supposed. He says his only weakness is lying about his hone-sty. Two weeks after Garner is born, perhaps Hollywood’s greatest child star, Shirley Temple, is born in Santa Monica CA on April 23. By 1938 she ranks No. 1 at the box office among all film stars, and an entire industry develops around Temple: dolls, coloring books, dresses, etc. Her married name becomes Shirley Temple Black. Born on May 12 in Kansas City, Missouri, is composer, songwriter Burt Bacharach, who will win two Oscars for scoring the 1969 movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and for the best song of 1969, Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head, from the same film. Four months after Barbara is born, the Republican Party, adopting the slogan, “A chic-ken in every pot, a car in every garage,” nominates Herbert Hoover for president on June 15. On June 8, American aviator Amelia Earhart becomes the first woman to fly across the Atlantic Ocean, as a passenger on the airplane Friendship flown by Wilmer Stultz and “SlimGordon. She will disappear over the Pacific on an attempt to circum-navigate the globe in 1937. On Aug. 16 in Mt. Kisco NY is born actress Ann Blyth (full name: Ann Marie Blyth). She will be nominated for a supporting Oscar in 1945’s Mildred Pierce.


Child-actor Spanky MacFarland (real name: George Emmett McFarland) is born on Oct. 2 in Fort Worth and will star in the Our Gang movie-comedy series later retitled The Little Rascals in TV reruns. He dies in 1993. Future-Hall-of-Fame baseball pitcher Whitey Ford (New York Yankees) is born on Oct. 21. On Nov. 6 New York Gov. Al Smith wins the vote in the 12 largest cities in the United states but loses badly in the Elec-toral College, 444-87, to Herbert Hoover, for the presidency because of, mainly, anti-Catholic bias in small towns and rural areas like Texas. Several preachers will claim they caused Smiyh’s defeat, including J. Frank Norris, pastor of the First Baptist Church of Fort Worth and another church in the upper Midwest. How hard could it have been to defeat the first Catholic candidate in Texas in 1928? Smith in December attends the an-nual Lotus Club Banquet, where he previously is guest of honor more than once, but which this time features Franklin D. Roosevelt, barely elected to succeed Smith as governor on the same Nov. 6 ballot. Smith goes to the men’s room with a friend, Broad-way producer Eddie Dowling, during the banquet and laments about his prospects after the crushing defeat. Financier John Jacob Raskob, Smith’s campaign manager, who fol-lowed the men to hear what Smith might say, speaks, “Don’t worry, Al. I’m going to build a skyscraper, the biggest in the world, and you’re going to be president of the company.” Thus, Al Smith officially opens the Empire State Building on May 1, 1931. Roosevelt dislikes Smith, but after he becomes president confesses to an aide that everything the New Deal enacts began with an Al Smith idea. Actually, many of them came earlier from the brain of Roosevelt’s fifth cousin Theodore Roosevelt.


On Nov. 12, movie-actress Grace Kelly is born in Philadelphia and will go on to be nom-inated as best-supporting actress for 1952’s High Noon, with Gary Cooper, and win the best-actress Oscar in The Country Girl, with Bing Crosby. She marries Prince Rainer III of Monaco in 1956. She dies in a car crash in 1982. Born on March 20 is Fred Rog- ers, who for many years will host Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood on TV for kids. In 1928, British bacteriologist Alexander Fleming discovers penicillin., which will replace sulphur drugs in WWII.




One of the rare photographs that show Franklin Roosevelt with the braces he wore on the bottoms of his legs. New York City Mayor Jimmy Walker, probably 1928.


Dow Hubbard Heard Sr., 1929, age 33, four years after accepting the pulpit of the Big Spring TX First Baptist Church, and two years before accepting the same position with the Jonesboro AR First Baptist Church. Looking at this photo, one can see why an ac- cusation of “womanizing” -- whether true or not -- on the surface could seem plausible. Dow accepted the suggestion that he speak on radio 15 minutes to rebutt J. Frank Norris’ radio broadcast. Norris, defeated for Baylor valadictiorian by J.M. Dawson, will get revenge by advising a fundamentalist former Baylor student, Dale Crowley, to go to Jonesboro AR and join a religious nut named Joe Jeffers, who warred with my dad.

1929, Aug. 30, Mary Lou Custer (Heard) (Robert’s first wife) is born in Beeville TX

six days before comedian-actor Bob Newhart is born on Sept. 5, and 7-1/2 months after Martin Luther King Jr. is born on Jan. 15. A courageous leader for civil rights for African-Americans (in the face of real, physical danger), King preaches nonviolent protest after the example of Mahatma Gandhi, who in turn learned from Henry David Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience. King will do with his voice what great writers do on paper. He is assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee, on April 4, 1968, at age 39. (A white man, James Earl Ray, 40, will be convicted of killing King with a rifle shot from a cheap hotel near King’s room at the Lorraine Motel; Ray dies in prison three decades later after convincing some King supporters he deserved a chance to plead his innocence; actually, he possessed that chance and this writer never understood why members of King’s family believed Ray, who got arrested in an airport in Europe some weeks after the slaying; a rifle found outside the hotel where the gunman fired his shot contained Ray’s fingerprints inside the rifle, and ballistics showed that weapon got identified as the murder weapon.) Half a month after King is born, on Jan. 31 in London, actress Jean Simmons is born. Simmons is nominated twice for an Oscar, as Ophelia in (later Sir) Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet in 1948, and in 1969’s The Happy Ending. She appears in dozens of movies, including 1960’s Elmer Gantry, as the female evangelist patterned after Aimee Semple McPherson (1890-1944), and Spartacus, as title-gladiator Kirk Douglas’ wife. On April 6 is born André Previn, an American who conducts the London Symphony Orchestra for many years. Mary Lou is born four months after the birth of movie-actress Audrey Hepburn on May 4 near Brussels, Belgium. Hepburn will be nominated five times for Oscars, winning for best actress in her first American movie, 1953’s Roman Holiday, with Gregory Peck. She plays Eliza Doolittle in perhaps the best-ever film musical, 1964’s My Fair Lady, with Rex Harrison. She dies of colon cancer, a particularly incongruous disease for such a dainty person, in 1993. On Aug. 4, is born Yasser Arafat, who becomes the leader of the Palestinians seeking to create their own state in Israel. The August 1929 edition of the Ladies Home Journal features an article by John Jacob Raskob, financier and booster of Al Smith, in which he says everybody can become rich by using his idea of the mid-1920s of buying cars on credit and to borrow money from Wall Street bankers and buy shares of stock in the market. Golfer Arnold Palmer is born on Sept. 10. A month and a half later, the stock market suffers its biggest crash in history. Oct. 16 automagnate Walter Chrysler finishes his 77-story Chrysler Building in New York City at 42nd Street and Lexington Avenue, which, with a 185-foot spire, rises 1,048 feet into the air, higher by 121 feet than the recently completed Bank of the Manhattan Company Building, 60 blocks away, built by former Chrysler partner, but now rival, H. Craig Simmons, who added 10 more stories of penthouses and a 50-foot flagpole to be sure his building exceeded Chrysler’s in height. The curiosity is that the Chrysler Building opens only eight days before Black Thursday, the beginning of the Wall Street Crash of 1929, which could have led (and may have led) religious fundamentalists to compare modern man’s arrogance with that of the builders of the biblical Tower of Babel, which supposedly caused God to scramble the languages of mankind. Also, the Empire State Buildingwill become the tallestin the world, a mark it holds for 40 years.


On Black Thursday, Oct. 24, a record 13 million shares change hands on the Wall Street Stock Exchange. Backed by J.P. Morgan, who previously preached unrestrained com-petition, a consortium of bankers pour millions into the market on Friday, but, when it appeared to be working, other banks withdrew from the stock market, which leads to Black Tuesday, Oct. 29, when 16 million shares traded hands. That precomputer record would not be broken for 40 years, in 1969. The market lost $14 billion in paper wealth in one day, $30 billion in one week, 10 times the entire budget of the United States and far more than the U.S. spent for World War I. A no-doubt apocryphal story holds the Wall Street Crash began after Jewish financier Barnard Baruck, who used the same shoeshine “boy” each day, received a stock tip from that boy. Baruck supposedly goes to his office, calls his stockbroker and says, “Sell me out. When shoeshine boys give me stock tips, it’s time to get out.” Mary Lou is born a month before Lt. Gen. James Doolittle (who will lead 16 B-25s on a raid over Tokyo from “Shangri-La” — actually the aircraft carrier Hornet -- on April 18, 1942) makes the first “blind” airplane flight, using only radio signals, on Sept. 24, at Mitchell Field NY. Born on Nov. 15 in Kansas City, Missouri, is actor Ed Asner, who stars most famously as Lou Grant in the TV series The Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970-77), and who famously battles with “actor” Charlton Heston over politics, liberal vs. conservative. Asner wins six Emmys, four for the Tyler show and others for Rich Man, Poor Man and Roots. Born Jan. 26 is cartoonist Jules Fieffer. On Feb. 14, two of Al Capone’s henchmen machine-gunned seven members of rival mobster George “Bugs” Moran’s gang in a Chicago garage in what became known as the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.

1930, Jan. 26, Gene Kreger (Nikki Heard’s husband and Sid and Mary’s later

son-in-law) is born eight days before President Hoover names Charles Evans Hughes on Feb. 3 to succeed William Howard Taft as Chief Justice of the United States. On Feb. 27, playwright Peter Stone is born in Los Angeles. Stone becomes the only person to win an Oscar (1964’s Father Goose, with Cary Grant), an Emmy (1963’s “The Defenders”) and a Tony (four: 1776, Woman of the Year, Will Rogers Follies, and Titanic). He also wins an Edgar (for Charade, from the Mystery Writers of America, which names the award for Edgar Allan Poe). His most-impressive work in this writer’s opinion is 1969’s 1776, an improbable musical, that works beautifully, about the birth of this nation in Philadelphia’s Independence Hall. Also born on Feb. 27, in Thomasville GA, is actress Joanne Woodward, who will win a best-actress Oscar for 1957’s The Three Faces of Eve, and earn a nomination for 1968’s Rachel, Rachel, directed by her husband, Paul Newman. She also wins two Emmys and often co-stars and/or is directed by Newman.

1930, April 10, Robert Lee Heard (Dow and Minerva’s fourth and last son and

last child) is born in the modest frame-house parsonage of the First Baptist Church in Big Spring TX. Conceived almost four months before Black Thursday, the Oct. 24 Wall Street Crash of 1929 (13 million shares are sold in a precomputer age), followed by Black Tuesday, Oct. 29 (when 16 million shares are sold), Robert is born two and a half months after work begins on the Empire State Building foundation Jan. 22 at 34th Street and Fifth Avenue in New York City, the site of the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, far from the skyscrapers at the end of Manhathattan Island. Construction will reach a point where an average of almost a floor a day is added. After the Twin Towers are built four decades later, the owners of the Empire State Building ask the builder of the Towers notto exceed the height of the former.


Robert is born two and a half weeks after actor Steve McQueen (full name: Terrence Steven McQueen) is born on March 24 in Slater MO. McQueen, abandoned as a baby by his father, comes up through the school of hard knocks, goes to reform school (Boys Republic, which, to his credit, McQueen visits in later years to help other boys) before becoming a drifter, joining the Marines at 17 in 1947, and serving 41 days in the brig on AWOL charges. Like Bette Davis, McQueen essentially plays himself in every role, but he does receive an Oscar nomination for 1966’s The Sand Pebbles, in which he played a rebel sailor, in other words, McQueen. He is best remembered for movies such as 1963’s The Great Escape, 1972’s The Getaway, and 1973’s Papillion. A cigarette smoker, he dies in surgery for lung cancer at age 50 on Nov. 7, 1980, which adds to his image as an icon whose life is cut short, like James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley.


Born two days after McQueen is Sandra Day O’Connor, who will become the first woman on the U.S. Supreme Court in 1981 and, unfortunately for her, will be best re-membered not for that breakthrough appointment by Ronald Reagan, but for casting the deciding vote in the court’s 5-4 decision on Dec. 12, 2000, that makes George W. Bush the dumbest chief executive in this nation’s history. She did not have the excuse of Chief Justice Roger Taney did in the 1857 Dred Scott decision that strictly interpreted the Constitution. O’Connor’s earlier infamy involved various votes to uphold the core decision in Roe v. Wade, permitting abortions. Construction on the Empire State Building in New York City begins March 17, 24 days before Robert is born. Robert is born a little over two months before President Hoover signs the Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act on June 17, launching a worldwide tariff war that exacerbates the Great Depression.


Exactly one week before Robert is born, on April 3, Helmut Kohl, who will serve for 16 years as West Germany’s chancellor, 1982-90, and 1990-98 for all of Germany, is born. Born March 27 in Naponee NE is actor David Janssen, best remembered for his lead role in the TV series The Fugitive, 1963-67. Janssen dies of a heart attack in 1980. Others born on April 10: publisher Joseph Pulitzer, in grinding poverty in Mako, Hungary, 1847, perhaps the best self-educated publisher with the best newspaper, the New York World, in the era of swashbuckling, passionate journalism; actor Harry Morgan, 1915 (Dragnet, the judge in 1960’s Inherit the Wind, Colonel Potter in M.A.S.H.; actor Max von Sydow (real name: Carl Adolf von Sydow) in Lund, Sweden, 1929 (played Jesus in 1965’s George Stevens movie The Greatest Story Ever Told despite being 6-7 in height; he also is nominated for an Oscar for 1988’s Pelle the Conqueror); also born on April 10 (in 1932) is actor Omar Sharif (real name: Michael Shalhoub), in Alexandria, Egypt, (Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago); and NFL announcer John Madden, 1936; and NFL quarterback Don Meredith, 1938. Born a month and a half after Robert is actor-director-producer Clint Eastwood (full name: Clinton Eastwood), on May 31 in San Francisco. Eastwood’s 1992 film, Unforgiven, wins the best-picture Oscar. Too old for the part, Eastwood also plays photographer Robert Kincaid in 1995’s The Bridges of Madison County. On Aug. 5, astronaut Neil Alden Armstrong, a test pilot at Edwards Air Force Base in Califonia, who will be the first man to walk on the moon, on July 20, 1969, is born in Wapakoneta, Ohio. Robert will interview Armstrong seven years earlier in Long Beach, Calif., in 1962.


When Armstrong of the Apollo 11 Mission puts his foot on the moon at 4:17:39 p.m. EDT on July 20, 1969, he not only gave his famous “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” statement, but followed it by several remarks, regular “com” traffic between him, the other astronauts, and Mission Control. Just before he re-entered the Lunar Lander, however, he made this enigmatic comment, “Good luck, Mr. Gorsky.” Many people at NASA considered it a casual remark concerning some rival Soviet Cosmonaut. However, upon checking, they found no Gorsky in either the Soviet or American space programs. Over the years, many people asked Armstrong what the “Gorsky” statement meant. Armstrong only smiled. On July 5, 1995, in Tampa Bay FL, while Armstrong answered questions after a speech, a reporter brought up the 26-year-old question. This time he responded. Mr. Gorsky finally died, and Armstrong felt he could answer. As a kid, he played baseball with a friend in Armstrong’s backyard. His friend hit a fly ball that came to rest near a window of the house next door. As he leaned down to pick up the ball, young Armstrong heard Mrs. Gorsky shouting at Mr. Gorsky. “Oral sex! You want oral sex?! You’ll get oral sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!” Among those who believe this story is an urban legend is this writer. There is no mention of Gorsky, or a similar name, in the index of James R. Hansen’s 2005 biography of Armstrong, First Man. But it is a great story.


As I edited this on June 11, 2011, Texas won the second game vs. Arizona State, 5-1, to even the series 1-1. The teams will play a tie-breaker June 12. Personaly, I could have lived with a UT loss. I am a huge supporter of public institutions (that’s why I am a UT fan, because it is the largest and best uni-versity in my state aswell as a publicschool. But Arizons State also is a public institution. Texas lost the tie-breaker game 2-1 the next day. That’s OK by me. Arizona State showed me it is the better team (winning two of three AT Texas). The Horns are a go-od team on pitching and defense, but frankly this is not one of Augie Garrido’s better teams. He remembered for the June 12 Statesman telling the team, “There’s a champion in here, but its gonna take teamwork, and its gonna take swagger, andi ts gonna take an attitude.” It is a poor-offensive team, lacking power at the plate. Texas loaded the bases in the fourth inning with no one out, needing only one run to tie the score, and got zero. If UT reached Omaha, this writer would expect little from it. The Sun Devils, a better-hitting club, may win a game or two at Omaha. Oops, I erred again. Texas tied the score on a balk called on the visitors’pitcher, then went on to add two more runs and won.4-2. I still doubt the Horns will do much, but to the extent they do, I, for one, will credit Garrido, the all-time winningest college baseball coach (more than 1,800 victories). Also, the Dallas Mavericks beat the Miami Heat at Miami, 105-95, to wrap up the NBA tirle in six games. Cleveland fans will be happy, because LaBron James (held to eight points in game 5, hit a three for the first score in the contest, then added two moe baskets early in the first quarter). born and raised in Cleveland, and who played pro ball for Cleveland until he deserted his native city to make more money at Miami. I think the Mavs’ 86-83 defensive masterpiece in Dallas in game four to even the series at 2-2 became the best contest in that rivalry. Miami beat the Mavs in the finals in 2006. Dallas’ star, seven -foot German Dirk Nowitzki (named MVP for this series, averaging 26 points) and Miami’s Dwyane Wade and James competed evenly until game five, the former totaling17 points in game six, the latter 21 (Notwitz also tallied 21, and Jason Terry 27 for Dallas. Thirty-eight-year-old Jason Kidd (nine points) won his first-ever NBA title, as did Nowistzi.


Born Aug. 25,1930, in Edinburgh, Scotland, is action-hero-actor Sean Connery (real name Thomas Connery), who will star in several James Bond movies, and also as heroic characters like Robin Hood. Connery wins a supporting Oscar for 1987’s The Untouchables. (Robert thinks he would have enjoyed being known as Robin Heard.)

1930, Sept. 21, smooth singer Leonary Cohen, baritone, is born. He will wow the ladies.

1930, Dec. 21, Daniel Webster Heard and Lucille Long marry in the same year

the first electric passenger train in the U.S. is run, on Sept. 3, as an experiment by Thomas A. Edison, between Hoboken and Montclair NJ. Dec. 21 also is the 109th anniversary of the birth in 1821 of Mary James Long, first Anglo-American born in Texas, at Port Lavaca. On Oct. 1, Irish actor Richard Harris is born in Limerick, Ireland (is that perfect or what?). Harris wins the Canne [Conn] Festival acting award and is nominated for an Oscar for 1963’s This Sporting life. He stars as King Arthur in 1967’s Camelot. After he bottoms out on booze and cocaine, he retreats to Paradise Island in the Bahamas, rediscovers religion and revives his career. On March 13, 1930, amateur astronomer Clyde Tombaugh of Kansas announces at the Lowell Observatory in Arizona his discovery of the ninth “planet,” Pluto. Quote marks around planet because around the turn of the 21st century, some astronomers expressed doubt Pluto is a planet. Pluto later is downgraded to an object from the Kuiper Cloud (see below).

1930, Dec. 25, Cecil Norton Dunlap and Bertha Heard marry in the same year

Sinclair Lewis wins the Nobel Prize for literature. In 1930 American golfer Bobby Jones wins the amateur and open titles of America and of Britain.

1931, Feb. 11, Robert A. Graham (Nell’s second husband) is born three days

after movie actor James Dean is born on Feb. 8 in Marion IN. Dean plays in seven films, two with bit parts only, yet earns Oscar nominations for his last two: 1955’s East of Eden and 1956’s Giant. He also starred in 1955’s Rebel Without a Cause. Dean dies in 1955 in an auto crash at age 24. Born four days after Robert is actress Claire Bloom (real name: Claire Blume) in London on Feb. 15. Political-columnist-turned-conservative-shill Robert Novak is born on Feb. 26 (in the 21st century he will illegally name in his column an undercover CIA operative, the wife of a man the George W. Bush admin-istration wants to embarrass because he contradicted the administration’s claim Saddam Hussein attempted to acquire nuclear materials in Niger (nigh-ZHERE), Africa). Actor Robert Duvall is born six weeks earlier, on Jan. 5 in San Diego. He wins the Oscar for best actor for 1983’s Tender Mercies, and is nominated once more for best actor and twice for best-supporting actor. Duvall will say in the 1990s his all-time favorite role is as AugustusGusMcCrae in Larry McMurtry’s TV series of Lonesome Dove, which is curious because Duvall originally is cast as McCrae’s quiet, steely sidekick, Woodrow F. Call, played in the series by Tommy Lee Jones. Duvall says he played many roles as the aloof, introverted type and wants to be the out-going McCrae.


Actor James Earl Jones is born Jan. 17 in Arkabutla MS and will be nominated for an Oscar for 1970’s The Great White Hope, as the first black heavyweight champion Jack Johnson, of Galveston. The man who became the greatest heavyweight champion, Muhammad Ali, also gets born on Jan. 17 (in 1942). Ali, originally named Cassius Clay, also is black. Jones’ “God is talking” voice (Barbara Jordan’s voice is that of Mrs. God) and his great talent earn him the role of Darth Vader in 1977’s Star Wars and many other roles. Actor Gene Hackman is born on Jan. 30 in San Bernardino CA, and will win two Oscars for 1971’s The French Connection and 1992’s The Unforgiven, plus he receives four other nominations. Actor Rip Torn (full name: Elmore Rual Torn) is born on Feb. 6 in Temple TX. Torn becomes a far better actor than his clownish stage name would suggest. In London on Feb. 15 is born actress Claire Bloom.


On March 22, actor William Shatner is born in Montreal and will famously become Captain (James T.) Kirk on TV’s Star Trek series (1966-69). In the early 21st cen-tury, Shatner enjoys a comeback, playing an older lawyer in the TV series Boston Legal. In this same year, the Empire State Building (Cecil Dunlap, Bertha’s husband, works as one of the many architects on the structure) is opened, on May 1. In late December 1930, Bertha and Cecil stop in Jonesboro AR on their train ride to New York City to visit her eldest brother and his family. Bertha picks up youngest son Robert from his crib and later describes Robert as weighing “like lead.” Wiley Post and Harold Gatty take off, June 23, on the first, single-plane, round-the-world flight, which takes eight days, 15 hours and 51 minutes. (Post completes the first solo flight around the world on July 22, 1933, in seven days and 18-3/4 hours.) Post will die in a plane crash with Will Rogers in 1935.


Baseball immortal Willie Mays is born on May 6. In the 1954 World Series Mays will make perhaps the greatest catch in baseball history, a 430-foot shot he snags over his shoulder running full tilt toward the centerfield fence in Giants Stadium (at 450 feet, the deepest in baseball). Not remembered as well, but should be, is the 310-foot throw Mays makes whirling after the catch to prevent a run. In later life Mays angers some fans with his emphasis on overcharged prices for his autograph. Baseball Hall-of-Famer Ernie Banks is born on Jan. 31. A future president of Russia, following the collapse of the So-viet Union in 1989, Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin, is born on Feb. 1. Born on March 2 (anniversary of Texas Independence Day in 1836) is Mikhail S. Gorbachev, who will head the Soviet Union at the time it breaks up in 1989. Also born on March 2 is novelist Tom Wolfe.


On Sept. 12 of this year, 1931, the Jonesboro (AR) Church War, involving this writer’s father, Dow H. Heard Sr., makes the front page of The New York Times. (Sept. 12). In daddy’s last years, the 1960s, I became the only son he could talk politics with (his asses-sment, not mine). And daddy loved to talk politics. He would arrange his and mom’s va-cation to coincide with mine at the Lick Cabins (where Sid and Mary honeymooned when the first one, the kitchen, stood new in 1940; Robert will remember the lookof freshpine used in the construction of that cabin). Aunt Arvie kindly allowed dad and me to use those cabins. I have reason to believe Arvie and some of the other women in the Dry Frio Canyon, as well as Deck, John and Sid to a degree, also entertained liberal ideas, but you probably could not get any of their descendants [Deck didn’t have any, of course] to admit that now. There also is at least one current female member of the family who is so conservative you’d need an astronomical telescope to find her right boundary, assuming there is one (George knows who). Never underestimate the value of education. And never underestimate the power of ignorance. Or, as Spencer Tracy (playing the role of Clarence Darrow in 1960’s Inherit the Wind) told the jury in the Scopes Trial in 1925, “Bigotry is forever busy and needs feeding.”


1949, the year Uncle Sid captured the last mountain lion (if not in 1948) in the

canyon, back in the Mule Mountain area. Because of other events, Sid did not get to run his traps for the lion, which had killed goats, for five days. Lions repeat a circle about 40 miles around. Sid bought some lion urine from a professional trapper, but it did not work. I don’t remember what worked. On the fifth day, Sid found the lion, held in the trap only by two tendons of one front paw. Sid’s dog Pee Wee and another, named Buck, I think, lacked the sense not to charge the lion, which swiped with his other front paw and nearly got Pee Wee. Sid wanted to enjoy watching the magnificent beast but knew he needed to kill it to protect his dogs. Even in its dehydrated state, the lion weighed 125 pounds and measured seven feet from nose to tip of tail. Unknown to me for many years, Sid wrote a poem about this episode (his daughter Nikki gave me a copy) in which he did me the great honor of mentioning me in the last verse, about Mule Mountain:


Upon the great and lofty muley

Where Robert kept the score

The bold and vicious lion

Will drop his wax no more.


1950, Feb. 6, Drew Randolph Heard, Dow and Marietta’s second son, second child, is

born the day before Wisconsin Sen. Joseph R. McCarthy announces on Feb. 7 at Wheeling WVA he has a list of 205 Communists in the U.S. State Department. McCarthy lies. American swimmer Mark Spitz, who will win seven Olympic gold medals, is born on Feb. 10. Curiously, his personality is so unappealing he unable to capitalize commercially on his athletic achievements. Born on Oct. 10 is actor Bradley Whitford, who plays presidential aide Josh Lyman on the popular West Wing television series in the late 1990s and beyond. Drew, a fitness guy, died suddenly in 2005 at 55 after stepping off a treadmill at home.

1950, Feb. 21, Cynthia Carolyn Nelson, Dick and Francis’ first child, is born four months

before North Korea invades South Korea on June 25, the 74th anniversary of the Battle of the Little Bighorn in which George Armstrong Custer died at the Little Bighorn. A little over two months after Feb. 21, on April 28, NBC Tonight Show host of the late 1990s and early 2000s, Jay Leno, is born. The day before his 50th birthday, April 27, Leno receives a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame sidewalk, and also an honorary police pardon for the two times the cops detained him for vagrancy early in his career. His star is placed where they detained him. Leno is funny, but he lacks David Letterman’s subtlety and occasional cerebral touch. Each employs too much slapstick. Actor William H. Macy, a sandyhaired “everyman” performer of average looks who plays good guys and bad guys, weak guys and strong guys, equally well, is born on March 13 in Miami FL. He is nominated for a best-supporting Oscar for 1996’s Fargo. All movie-goers recognize Macy, but few know his name. Born on March 20 in Washington, D.C., is actor William Hurt, who will win a best-actor Oscar for playing a homosexual prisoner in 1985’s Kiss of the Spider Woman, and be nominated twice for 1986’s Children of a Lesser God and 1987’s Broadcast News.



Robert, 20, and Wyatt Heard, 23-1/2, on the Baylor campus quadrangle in 19-50. Camera is facing northwest. The Old Main Tower is in the background. One of the live oak trees below the tower is the one Baylor students would have hung William Cowper Brann from in 1897 but for the interference of Samuel Palmer Brooks, then dean of arts and later president of the school. The slightly different tower of Burleson Hall, where senior girls then lived, is behind the tall tree to the left. Each tower needed to be rebuilt after the 1953 tornado that killed 114 people in Waco. At bottom left is the base of one of the lampposts honoring a WWII vet from Bay-lor who died in WWII. There is a lamppost for Jack Lummus (see 19-44) in front of the Union Building built in the late 1940s on South Fifth St. The Greer House, where the brothers lived (and Wyatt served as “mother/manager”) is across Fifth Street to the right and a bit north, where the Baylor Law School got built and first used in September 1955 a few days after Robert graduated from it. In the early 21st century another structure replaced the 1955 school.

1950, Aug. 19, Terri Wimberly (Heard) (Drew’s wife and Dow and Marietta’s

daughter-in-law) is born almost a month before U.S. Marines under Gen. Douglas MacArthur on Sept. 15 invade Inchon, Korea (Seoul’s ocean port), threatening to cut off North Korean troops besieging the Pusan perimeter in southeast Korea. Six days after the invasion, on Sept. 21, former Secretary of State George Marshall (chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in WWII) becomes secretary of defense. Actor Randy Quaid is born on Oct. 1 in Houston. He stars as a simpleminded high-school suitor of Cybil Shepherd in 1971’s black-and-white classic, The Last Picture Show, from Larry McMurtry’s book. On Oct. 2 of this year, a shy, 28-year-old, Minnesota cartoonist named Charles Schulz publishes his first Peanuts strip, which he continues to draw for 49 years, until he stops to devote his energy to defeating colon cancer at age 77. The most popular of his characters is not Charlie Brown but Charlie’s dog Snoopy, who, among other incarnations, plays a World War I flying ace in a Sopwith Camel who battles the Red Barron. It is the most widely distributed cartoon strip in history, being published in 21 languages in 2,600 newspapers worldwide (in the U.S.-S.R., Charlie’s sister Lucy is labeled a fascist). On Oct. 26, approximately 300,000 troops from the regular Red Chinese Army (disguised as “volunteers” to aid North Korea) attack the U.S. Eighth Army and the First Marine Division in Korea north of the 38th Parallel. Douglas MacArthur earlier guaranteed Harry Truman that would not happen, because the Chinese could not support an invasion force with air, artillery or supplies. Further, MacArthur said, the war will be over by Christmas of 1950. Indeed, the Chinese could not support their troops, but they use their numerical superiority as their chief weapon and do not really care how many of them died (hundreds of thousands did). The Chinese in particular target the First Marine Division, surrounding it with as many as 100,000 troops (a 5-to-1 advantage) in temperatures as low as 40 below zero at Chosin Reservoir. If they can capture or destroy that division, the most distinguished ground fighting force America possessed, it will be a tremen-dous propaganda coup for Communism. With the considerable aid of air power (na-palming the ridges beside the only road back to the sea), the Marines “attack in another direction” (movie: Retreat Hell! in which the actor-commander says they are attacking in another direction; but what the Marines actually did is retreat) and escape. The Ko-rean War will last until an armistice goes into effect at 10 p.m., July 27, 1953. More than 33,000 Americans died in the “conflict.”





Tangle of Marine trucks and equipment on a curve of the only mountain road available for their retreat (“attacking in another direction”) from the Chosin Reservoir in the first winter of the Korean “Conflict” in late November 1950. About 100,000 Red Chinese troops totally surprised Army Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s intelligence by crossing the Yalu River between North Korea and Manchuria and surrounding the First Marine Division deep in the mountains of North Korea, with the aim of capturing or killing the most famous fighting force in the world. Luckily for the Marines, Air Force fighters napalmed the ridges above the road of their escape, killing many Chinese troops. At one point, Marines replaced a destroyed bridge with two spans dropped from the air with the addition of about 10 feet of frozen bodies of enemy dead. Photo by David Douglas Duncan.





Unidentified Marine shows the agony of enduring 40-degrees-below-zero tem-peratures on the retreat from North Korea’s Chosin Reservoir in late November 1950. The writer of this genealogy fortunately missed this action by about 14 months, arriving in Korea in early February 1952. The Korean “Conflict” began on June 25, 1950, with an invasion of South Korea by North Korean troops, which pushed the South Korean troops and two poorly conditioned U.S. Army divisions to a pocket in southeastern Korea known as the Pusan Perimeter. Marines under Army Gen. Douglas MacArthur successfully pulled off an am-phibious landing at Inchon, Seoul’s port city, Sept. 16, 1950. Secretary of State Dean Acheson some weeks or months earlier gave a speech in which he indicated Korea lay outside the United States’ defense line in the Pacific, thus encouraging North Koreans to invade the South. The Inchon landing may have been the most brilliant maneuver of MacArthur’s career. Marine leaders warned him it would be chancy, because the tides rose and fell 40 feet at Inchon, and mistiming of the in-vasion could expose the invading force on mud flats eight miles in width. As usual, the North Korean enemy also thought an invasion there unlikely. That largely ex-plains why it turned out to be a success (indeed, many battles in history turn on an attack where the enemy thinks one cannot be made). Experts at amphibious lan-dings from World War II, the Marines executed what MacArthur hoped they could. “Hit ‘em where they don’t think you can.” Think of Lawrence of Arabia crossing the “Devil’s Anvil” to reach Abba and the Turks, whose artillery faced the sea early in the First World War. Photo by David Douglas Duncan.





The Bishop’s Palace in Galveston, no doubt the most famous home in the city, with Ashton Villa a close second if only because it is older (1858) and because the pictured structure above began with another name, the Gresham House, built in 1885, according to architect Nicholas J. Clayton’s plans. Colonel Walter Gresham built it for his wife Josephine Mann Gresham. The American Institute of Architects in 1957 named this building one of the hundred important structures of the century, 1857-1957. Clayton later estimated the house cost him a quarter of a million dollars, and that figure is contradicted by later estimates as being $100,000 too low. Gresham came to Texas in 1866 from King’s County, Virginia. The house remained in the Gresham family until 1923, when the Roman Catholic diocese of Galveston purchased it for $70,000. The Galveston flood of 1900 caused little damage to this home because it sits on Galveston’s main thoroughfare, Broadway, more than a mile north of the Gulf of Mexico. Photo from The Galveston That Was, Howard Barnstone (photos by Henri Cartier-Bresson and Ezra Stoller, Rice University Press, in association with the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, 1993, p. 160.

1951, Jan. 3, Elizabeth Gayle Echols (Robert’s second wife) is born in Galveston

(fourth-generation B.O.I. -- born on the island) two weeks after the North Atlantic Coun-cil names Dwight Eisenhower supreme commander of Western European defense for-ces on Dec. 19, 1950. On Jan. 12 is born Rush Limbaugh, the first of several Archie Bunkers of radio talk shows who target lowbrow, beer-swilling, pickups-with-rifles-driving, religious-bigoted, yahooing defenders of the centuries-long preferential treatment of white males. Limbaugh is as big a blowhard as America produced in the 20th century, which claimed more than its share of blowhards. None of the later sexist, racist, commen-tators exceeds in demagoguery the fat-slob Limbaugh, who labels women who aren’t barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, “femi-Nazis.” It is revealed in the early years of the 21st century that Limbaugh is addicted to painkillers. Also born on Jan. 12 is comedienne Kristie Alley, a Christian Scientist prone to balloon. Alley is no national role model; yet imagine how she feels sharing her birthday with Limbaugh. Born half a year after Betsy, on July 8 in Los Angeles, is actress Anjelica Huston, daughter of actor-director-screen-writer John Huston and granddaughter of actor Walter Huston. Angelica plays memorable roles on TV’s 1989 Lonesome Dove, where she is the former girl friend of the Robert Duval character and resents his friendship with the Tommy Lee Jones character that took Duval away from her, and in the 1985 film Prizzi’s Honor, for which she wins an Oscar (she is nominated twice more). Also born in 1951, in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, is actress Meryl Streep, who will win an Oscar for best-supporting actress in 1979’s Kramer vs. Kramer, and be nominated for several more Oscars, winning for best actress in 1982’s Sophie’s Choice, from William Styron’s novel. Her films include 1976’s Julia, 1978’s The Deer Hunter, 1981’s The French Lieutenant’s Woman, 1983’s Silkwood, 1985’s Out of Africa, 1990’s Postcards from the Edge, and 1996’s The Bridges of Madison County. I find it odd that two terrific women, my wife and Meryl Streep, are born before and after Limbaugh in 1951. Further evidence of a not-divinely-planned, chaotic world. On Feb. 15 in Wimbledon, England, is born actress Jane Seymour (real name: Joyce Penelope Wilhelmina Frankenberg). A cinematog-rapher whose name I don’t remember exclaimed about the quality of Seymour’s skin after one of her scenes: “She eats light!”

1951, March 1, Stuart Wright (Nancy Deen’s husband and John G and Joanna’s son-in-

law) is born 13 days before United Nations forces on March 14 recapture Seoul, the capital of South Korea, a second time, this one following the intervention of a million Chinesevolunteers” the previous Nov. 26 (the first recapture of Seoul occurred after the amphibious landing at Inchon on Sept. 15, 1950). March 1 is a month and 10 days before President Harry Truman on April 11 fires Gen. Douglas MacArthur for insubordination. In 1951 American novelist J.D. Salinger publishes Catcher in the Rye.




March 16, 1951, the Baylor Delta Sigma Pi (professional business) fraternity banquet. (l-to-r) Wyatt Heard, Donna Westmoreland, Mary Lou Custer, and Robert Heard. This month, I finished work on my Bachelor’s of Business Administration degree, with an economics major, and first enrolled in Baylor Law School. Less than three months later, I found myself in the Marine Officers’ Training School in Quantico, Virginia. Five months after that, Mary Lou and I married on Nov. 11, 1951, in the Beeville First Baptist Church in a service conducted jointly by my dad and her pastor (she played the organ in her church). Four months after the marriage, after Motor Transport School at Camp Le-jeune in North Carolina, and Cold Weather School at 9,000 feet in the mountains of southwest Nevada, the Marines flew me to Korea.



1951, May 25, Elizabeth “Betsy” Jane Heard, John G and Joanna’s first daughter, second

child, is born the day before the first American woman astronaut, Sally Ride, is born. Ride’s success as an astronaut prompts the national cheer: “Ride, Sally, Ride.” On June 14, the world’s first commercial computer, the $1 million Univac, invented by John Mauchly, is used for the first time. As with the later “dot.com” revolution, it takes many years for commercial and then personal computers to achieve resounding success. In this year Julius and Ethel Rosenberg are convicted and sentenced to death (April 5) on charges they gave the Soviet Union atomic secrets. After President Dwight Eisenhower twice denies their appeal for clemency, the Rosenbergs will be electrocuted on June 19, 1953. My Favorite Husband, later to be renamed I Love Lucy, starring Lucy Ball and Desi Arnaz, with sidekicks Vivian Vance (Ethel) and William Frawley (Fred) debuts on television on Oct. 15, 1951. It will be seen in more than 90 countries and by more people than any other television show.




Marine 2nd Lt. Robert Heard at Officers’ Training School in Quantico, summer 1951. In the best shape of my life, 6 feet 3-1/2 inches, 205 pounds and hard as a rock.




Some of my buddies at Quantico in Officers’ Training School in the summer of 1951. The short guy in the middle is R.B. Henney of Pasadena CA, who assisted me in a trip to California in the summer of 1949 via a B-17 bomber. Although small in stature, Henney finished second to me in the battalion football throw, which I won with a throw of 64 yards slightly uphill and against a moderate wind.




In the foyer of the First Baptist Church of Beeville TX, Robert and Mary Lou Custer Heard receive congratulations from attendees at their wedding Nov. 11, 1951. Mary Lou shakes the hand of the Custer family doctor, J.W. Edmundson, who, she told me, examined her pubic area before the wedding and pronounced, no doubt to make an insecure young woman feel good, “I wish I had one at home just like it.” If Mary Lou still lived, she wouldn’t like it that I put that quote here. But she objected to what I said about the girl in the blue dress in Ice Cream Co-lossus, too. However, I knew it reflected the raging hormones of a teenage boy perfectly, so I overruled her attempt to edit me. Too often in those days young men mistook those hormones for love, and young women, usually counseled by their moms, counted on that, tolerating them only as long as they needed to. I won’t put everything important about her here, but I later recorded an incident that occurred when I served in Korea in my journal.





More congratulations. Her pastor and his father jointly performed the ceremony. Robert forgot to give either one money.





At the reception in the home of Mary Lou’s parents, l-to-r, Dow Jr., Robert, Mary Lou, her brother Eldridge, 13, and Wyatt. It still amuses me that Dow strained to look taller than a dog-tired Robert, who together with a Marine buddy, drove nonstop 1,600 miles to Houston from Quantico. Eldridge and I played several games of chess before this, which I usually won. Indeed, I embarrassed him once after he resigned, by calling the resignation a mistake. I turned the board and beat “my pieces” with “his pieces.” When I got back from Korea a bit over a year later, he asked if I’d like the play a game. Sure. Within a few moves, he captured my Queen! How did that happen? It turned out he’d been reading books on chess. So I read the same books, and we played some titanic games, equally for a time, then he began to win more. Finally, after game I won, I decided not to play him anymore (so I won our last game). He went on to become chess champion at Rice University, and continued to play serious chess for years. Me? I seldom played. (when I did, I proved to be really good as defensive player). If I couldn’t be the best at something, or close to it, I dropped that activity.



1951, Nov. 11, Robert Lee Heard and Mary Lou Custer marry at Beeville TX two

weeks after British voters return Winston Churchill to power on Oct. 26, and five weeks before electricity is generated from a U.S. nuclear reactor in Idaho on Dec. 20. On Nov. 18, CBS’s Edward R. Murrow launches his first I See It Now program, introducing it by saying, “This is an old team [of radio broadcasters] trying to learn” a new technology. To the amazement of his TV audience, Murrow calls on one colleague to show a live picture on one monitor of the Atlantic Ocean, then turns to another monitor and asks for a live shot of the Pacific.


1952, Feb. 6, Beverly Langworthy and Wayne Morrison Herzig marry almost two

months before George F. Kennan becomes U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union on April 2. Kennan earlier articulated the Truman administration’s “containment policy” regarding the Soviet Union that will finally squeeze the life out of the U.S.S.R. 37 years later in 1989. Kennan theorizes Communism misreads human nature, believing all people will work according to their ability in a system designed to give to people according to their need. Kennan’s idea bore fruit seven presidents later under Ronald Reagan in 1989. Four weeks before Beverly and Wayne marry, on Jan. 11, Texas golfer Ben Crenshaw is born. An acclaimed student of the history of golf, Crenshaw will win the Masters twice and many other tournaments. Singer Aretha Franklin is born on March 25. On July 21 in Chicago is born actor Robin Williams, who thrice is nominated for an Oscar (1987’s Good Morning, Vietnam, 1989’s Dead Poets Society, and 1997’s Good Will Hunting) and will win a supporting Oscar for Hunting. A hyper comedian as well as fine dramatic actor, Williams probably should be paired with Jim Carrey to see if celluloid can hold two Roman-candle comics. On Sept. 2 is born Jimmy Connors, who will become a great tennis player. Born on March 22 is sportscaster and sports person-ality Bob Costas. Rock singer Lou Reed is born on March 2. He will become an ob-session of my elder son Dan at the beginning of Dan’s descent into schizophrenia in 1980. Dan dies on Dec. 12, 1993. My group of Marines began the flight to Korea on a large seaplane about the time Beverly got married (the Marines sent us back more than 10 months later on a slow boat). We arrived in Korea on Feb. 12, 1952, I think). We first set down in Hawaii, where several of our fellow lieutenants, who, like Bruce Latsch and me, married just before we left the states, immediately went to a Honolulu whore house. Bruce (from Indiana, also a preacher’s son) and I did not. Nor could we understand why the others did. Perhaps they felt an ill fate awaited them in Korea and resolved to experience all the pleasure they could.


Marine 2nd Lt. Robert Heard in Korea in 1952, across a valley from First Marine Division Head-quarters. The 29,000-man Division moved ear-lier, in April 1952, to a point 30 miles North of Seoul, charged with the responsibility of guarding the capital city against the North Koreans and Red Chinese.




Six of the 250 color photographs taken in Korea in 1952 with Robert Heard’s Canon camera he bought through the PX in Japan. Top left is the Freedom Gate Bridge over the Imgin River about 35 miles northwest of Seoul. Earlier American bombing probably reduced it to this state. Top right is a South Korean plowing his field. Below are two South Koreans carrying sizable loads on “A-frames” in Uijongbu (WEE-jon-boo, a name so mellifluous that the M*A*S*H TV series, which spoke against the Vietnam War more than the Korean War, used it multiple times). Uijongbu is 15 miles north of the 38th parallel, northeast of Seoul. An A-frame places the main part of a load on the lower back, an improvement on the backpacks we used, which put the load on shoulder straps.





Left is a twilight view of either Never Say Die Valley or Valley of the Moon (I can’t remember which). Local legend holds this valley marks the southernmost point penetrated by Genghis Khan in the early 1200s C.E., before he turnedwestward and swept through southern Russia and the Middle East at the height of Islamic civili-zation. Much of Korea looks like the Dry Frio Canyon. At lower right are two hungry Korean kids we saw when our unheated train (some got in their sleeping bags; my legs felt numb up to the knees) stopped en route to Inchon and the ship home. We gave the kids C rations, which is all we had and what we ourselves ate.




Three more shots of Robert in Korea in 1952, where he arrived by helicopter from Japan at night about Feb. 12, 1952. At upper left, I lean on a road sign indicating the route to Panmunjom, where truce talks continued after beginning in Kaesong (barely south of the 38th parallel, about 85 miles northwest of Seoul) on July 10, 1951, then switched to the small community named Panmunjom 30 miles closer to Seoul on Oct. 7, 1951. The talks did not reach an armistice agreement until July 27, 1953, mainly because the North Korean negotiators insisted on behaving as if they represented a major power (as North Koreans continue to view themselves today, despite being so backward that several hundred thousand of their men have escaped to China, where they are easily spotted by Chinese police because they are all less than five feet tall, due to malnutrition as kids. At lower left, I wash our motor transport company’s pet, Deadline, in a wheelbarrow. You can see my left deltoid muscle here that the UT Tower sniper blew away 14 years later, Aug. 1, 1966. I took great tans in those days, and later, for which I’ve paid the penalty in my 60s and 70s, needing potentially serious growths to be burned off me by super-cold nitrogen. I reached San Francisco via a 10,000-ton ship a few days before Christmas 1952.

1952, December, my group of Marines returned to the states aboard a 10,000-ton ship

(probably a Liberty Ship, named the U.S.S. Weigle, I think). Bilious by nature, I asked our battalion doctor what I could take to forestall seasickness. He gave me Dramamine, which I swallowed for two weeks before boarding ship. As luck would have it, out of 16 days at sea, I got called, out of 200 officers, to be officer of the day on one of them. By the time I reached the fifth deck below the main deck to inspect bunks for the men, where the odor of vomit radiated from every corner, I came close to throwing up, despite the Dramamine. I sort of looked in on the fifth deck, waved and said, “Looks good to me,” and started up the stairs (“ladder”) again. The officers held a Contract Bridge tournament, which my partner (not as good as Bobby Hamilton) and I won. Prize: A Sunbeam elec-tric razor. A contributing factor to our win: I once drew a hand with 10 spades (without the king, which I finessed for). That’s the most of a suit I ever drew in a bridge game. When my friend Bruce Latsch and I reached San Fran-cisco -- what a glorious sight the Golden Gate Bridge is passing over you when you come home -- we went to restaurant at “The top of the Mark” Hotel and each ordered a quart of milk and a stick of butter with our steaks.


1953, June, On the GI Bill, I re-enrolled in Baylor Law School. Mary Lou taught fifth

grade in a local elementary school. I got in a “quarter” in the spring of 1951 before the Marines called me up for Korea, but, for whatever reason, I don’t think that quarter counted toward a degree. I went through law school in 27-straight months, graduating in August 1955 after I already took and passed the bar exam (in June 1953, early test al-lowed for veterans) with the highest score of the Baylor contingent, which included two Phi Beta Kappas, and despite questions regarding seven law courses that I had not ta-ken. I finished tied for 10th out of 165 exam-takers (my eldest brother lied and told law firms in Houston I finished third). I remember only four stories from law school worth recording here.


This story I did not witness but learned from its retelling. A woman student named Judith Roberts took Criminal Law from the only professor who taught the one course, Charles McGregor. McGregor decided to embarrass Roberts. He propounded a question be-fore the entire class, “What constitutes ‘penetration’ in rape cases?” He turned to face her and said, “Miss Roberts?” She flushed, then stammered, “Twelve inches?” That brought down the class, and it retired to the Baylor Drug Store on the corner for coffee. What constitutes penetration in rape is “mere touching.”


I found law school, most of it, to be easy, like academic school, and I spent an inordinate amount of time playing the pinball machine at Baylor Drug. Storeowner Roger Edens held the record score until I beat it. Thereafter, other players lined up to play me. Roger came back to the machine from the cash register during such challenges once and tossed 50 dimes on the glass. He paid me to be a shill. And I did.


I played Contract Bridge once in Edens’ store when perhaps the toughest professor in law school, Ralph (we called him Black Ralph) Norvell, looked on. Afterward he remarked to someone else, but it got back to me, that he thought I could play the game professionally if I so chose. Norvell later went to New York University, I think.


For finals one time, my friend Roger Edens gave me what we called bennies -- amphetamines. I normally crammed for exams, and did well on them, using only coffee. The bennies worked great for three days. But on the fourth day, without any sleep, I went to-tally blank in the middle of an exam. I’m not sure I could remember my name. Finally I got up and turned in the incomplete test and went home to bed, certain I flunked the course, I barely brought myself to look at grades the professor posted later. I made a C. Amazing.


Beginning sometime in 1953, I think, I took up the game of golf. It would be useful to me in a career practicing law. It’s fair to say I attacked the game, determined to get good at it, which should have been doable, given my athletic talent in some fields. Golf turned out not to be one of them. I know now that few big men are good at golf. Like long-distance running and mountain-climbing, golf is dominated by small men. Alone, I played about 30 rounds of golf one summer, mostly on barren Texas courses. Easy courses. I got my game down to 92. Some guys are delighted to break 100. Not good enough for me. If I could-n’t do better than that after 30 rounds, to hell with it. I never played another round.


Christmas 1952. I got home from Korea about Dec. 20, 1952, just in time to take these photos. My dad , 56, and four of his grandkids (from dad's two oldest sons) sit on the front steps of Dow Jr. and Marietta's house at 1703 Dywer Ave. in South Austin (Dow Jr. served as an assistant Texas attorney general). L-to-r: Dow III, 8; Johnny, 5; Drew (top step), almost 3; Betsy, 4-1/2. Drew caught his head between two of the vertical supports in the wrought-iron railing bordering the front porch, his Uncle Wyatt and another man drove up at that moment and pried the bars apart enough to free Drew.




Dow Sr. and three of his grandsons, Dow III (top), Johnny (middle), and Drew are pictured by Robert in Dow Jr. and Marietta’s back yard in South Austin at Christmas 1952. Note the pursed lips on my dad, a signature gesture by Heards when they tell tall tales (beside my father, Uncle Deck in particular did this).



Marietta and Deborah (born Nov. 11, 1951) pose with Betsy, John and Joanna’s girl, 3-1/2 years old, who looks at my camera at Christmas 1952 in Dow Jr. and Marietta’s front yard.


The 1953 Heard Reunion, June 20, the last to be held at Heard Spring (Grandmother Heard died on April 29, and the family decided to sell all her property), afforded this writer the opportunity to take these photos with the Canon camera (with a “Calf’s-Eye” 1.8 lens) that I purchased through the Marine PX in Japan while I served as a Marine lieutenant in 1952 in the First Motor Transport Battalion of the First Marine Division in Korea. All 10 of the children of Wyatt and Lizzie Heard still lived. As I write this, only Mag still lives. Of the spouses, shown below, only Jack Nelson and Lucille still live. With birthdates and death dates, the 10 are, front row, l-to-r: Woodrow (12.14.-1916-12.23.1994, at age 78), Emma (9.25.1911-4.23.2003, at age 91), Mag (11.11. -1913), Dow Sr. (11.07.1896-12.08.1969, at age 73), Bessie (7.09.1902-1.15.1985, at age 82), and Bertha (12.13.1905-1.27.1995, at age 89). Back row: John (10.11.-1899-12.22.1960, at age 60), Sid (1.27.1904-8.31.1996, at age 92), Dan (3.05.1908-6.25.1989, at age 81), and Deck (11.05.1897-2.03.1986, at age 88). The “27” in the middle at the top is a picture page number of my 2005 book The Church War. The spouses below, first row: Opal Shafer (Woodrow) (11.12.1918-11.2.1994), at age 85; and Arvie Jones (John) (1.10.1901-11.25.1992, at age 91); second row: Minerva Gulley (Dow Sr.) (10.18.99-2.27.1996, at age 96), Clara Bradshaw (Deck) (8.17.-1904-12.07.1984, at age 80), and Lawrence Langworthy (Bessie) (4.08.1901-11.29. -1977, at age 76); (third row): Mary Steigerwald (Sid) (2.12.1914-12.23.1966, at age 52); back row: Cecil Dunlap (Bertha) (5.21.1905-1.27.1995, at age 89), Jack Nelson (Emma) (6.13.1913), Pete Gibbens (Mag) (10.15.1910-10.31.1989, at age 79), Lucille Long (Dan) (1.12.1908). All photos of the 1953 Heard reunion by me. The “27” at the top of the photo means nothing here. It is the page number of an earlier document in which I used this picture.





Uncle John daubs Spanish kid goats on bedsprings with “secret” Heard sauce at the 1953 Reunion. Years later, I gave a print of this photo to his widow, my Aunt Arvie. She hung it on her livingroom wall.




Uncles Deck (white shirt, front left) and Jack Nelson cut the cabrito. Uncle Sid approa-ches from left. Aunt Lucille stands on the other side of Jack. Only the senior men do this task, while women did the “ordinary” cooking and cutting.








Dow Sr., Marietta (Dow Jr.'s wife) and Minerva sit behind Betsy (John and Joanna's daughter) at the 1953 Reunion.





Uncle Pete Gibbens, 42-1/2, and Great-Uncle Charlie Heard, almost 78, Grandfather Hub Heard's younger brother by 3-1/2 years, sit in the pecan bottom of Heard Spring near pots warming on a fire at the 1953 Reunion. Dan Howell Heard, 16, Uncle Dan's and Aunt Lucille's boy, can barely be seen at right. Charlie died eight years later, on April 20, 1961, at age 85. Pete died Oct. 31, 1989, at age 79.





Slightly underexposed photo of Uncles Dan and John talking with Aunt Mag at the 1953 reunion.





The girl with the dark hair a bit over an inch from the left margin of the picture is my cousin Ann Nelson, almost 11. She is reaching toward Dow III, 7-1/2, at the 1953 Heard Reunion. Behind Dow to the right is Johnny, 4-1/2, and Dow’s brother Drew, 3-1/2. That is Hubby Heard, almost 12, at the top with the diving mask.














Kids swim in pool formed by Heard Spring (out of picture to the left) and the Dry Frio River at 1953 Reunion. Adults, many identifiable, watch from the hillside. For example, Woodrow, Lawrence Langworthy and Kenneth Dunlap stand atop the boulder at left. My dad holds a baby at far right, with Minerva to his right, and Aunt Arvie to his left. The family sold Heard Spring soon after this reunion, mainly because some members ne-eded the money, but also because, I was told, out of fear some members of the family, specifically Esau Nelson, might simply move there and camp permanently. I doubt that would have happened, and I’ve always regretted they sold this four-acre property. Esau, incidentally, hearing the physical location in one of the tales of Jim Bowie’s silver mine, remarked, “That sounds like Muley.”




Drew and Dow Heard III, Dow Jr. and Marietta’s first two children, step across the Dry Frio above Heard Spring during the 1953 Heard Reunion, the last to be held at Heard Spring, which is half a mile upstream from Reagan Wells. A fitness aficionado, Drew dies suddenly at 55 in May 2005. Photo by Robert Heard.




Wendal, Dow, and Hubby Heard wade upstream in the Dry Frio River a few yards south of Heard Spring at the 1953 reunion. Note Hubby has water goggles.


1953, Aug. 20, Roger M. Woolf (Jewel Heard’s husband and Sid and Mary’s son-in-

law, is born five days after Gen. Matthew Ridgway becomes Chief of Staff.

1953, Nov. 7, Paul M. Robertson (Virginia’s husband and Sid and Mary’s son-in-law) is

born four days after comedian Dennis Miller is born. Miller achieves fame as a “news broadcaster” on Saturday Night Live, and is added to the broadcast crew of Monday Night Football in 2000. George Marshall wins the Nobel Peace Prize in 1953, and Ernest Hemingway wins the Pulitzer Prize for his novel, The Old Man and the Sea.1953, Nov. 30, Karen Elaine Herzig, Beverly’s daughter, is born almost two months after former California Gov. Earl Warren takes the oath of office as Chief Justice of the United States on Oct. 5. Actor John Malkovich is born on Dec. 9. On April 12, American virologist Jonas E. Salk announces the first vaccine for poliomyelitis. On May 29, New Zealander Edmund Hillary and Nepal Sherpa Tenzing Norgay are the first to climb Mount Everest (and return; some mountaineer aficionados, including this writer, think one or both Englishmen George LeighMallory and AndrewSandyIrvine may have reached the summit of the world’s highest mountain on June 8, 1924, before they perished).




Dow Heard Sr., seated left on the front steps of Dow Jr. and Marietta’s rent house in South Austin at Christmas 1952, and (right) in the living room of Robert and Mary Lou’s Speight Street garage apartment in 1953 when Robert attended Baylor Law School, with only a floor lamp behind dad for light. Photos by Robert, the right one lightened many years later by Robert’s second wife Betsy through “dodging” in a darkroom. She per-formed the same job on the 1917 under-exposed negatives of the Hub and Lizzie Heard family that Uncle Dan left to Robert. Photos by me.




Photo by me in about 1953 of the two point mountains northwest of the 1914 house, taken from the Dry Frio Road outside the main gate to the big lane in front of the house. You can make out the Carlisle Place above a bluff on the river to the right of the shade of a couple of oaks. For a few years, a boys’ camp operated there. I remember as a lad of 11 or 12 watching my uncles drive a herd of Angora goats down the face of the first point mountain on the right (about a mile away). The summit of that mountain is 1,990 feet above sea level. The second point mountain behind the first is 2,014 feet high. A later photo on this disc of Mule Mountain was taken from the top of the second mountain. More than any other vision, when I see what is depicted here, it tells me I am home. The “54” is a picture page number in my 2005 book The Church War.




A denuded Mule Mountain, just under 2,200 feet above sea level, is shown in a 1953 photo I took to the west from the top of the Second Point Mountain after Deck, John and Sid in 1950 burned off all that back country, covered mostly by juniper trees, to make room for grass to feed goats and other livestock. The Indians did the same thing occasionally in the 19th century and before to make grass for deer and elk. Mostly Mountain Laurel has replaced the junipers, but there is more grass, too. You can see tangled brush in front of me at the bottom. When I first saw Mule Mountain in the early 1940s, it loomed as a dark-green monolith that became mysterious to me. Except for the Chisos Mountains of the Big Bend, Mule Mountain is the tallest eminence in the continental United States this far south.




The Blue Hole, photo (toward the southeast) taken by me. It is about 400 yards to the east of the low-water crossing you reach a quarter mile after driving north from the 1909 Heard School/Church, en route to the cutoffs to where Woodrow and Opal lived (east) and the Lick Creek Cabins (west). The water looks green here but normally is blue. Sev-eral springs at the bottom make the water cold about 4-1/2 feet down at its deepest point, about nine feet. Swimmers used the slanted boulder just right of center to dive from. Old-timers conducted many baptisms here.



Mountain Gravel, photo by me (facing south). The swimming hole, which looks blue here, is a quarter mile southwest of the low-water crossing you reach a quarter mile after driving north from the 1909 Heard School/Church (the gate to the drive of a few hundred yards through a pecan bottom, then an open flat, to the grove of trees northeast of the swimming hole, is maybe a hundred yards north of the bridge), en route to the cutoffs to where Woodrow and Opal lived (right, or east) and the Lick Creek Cabins (left, or west). Like Blue Hole, Mountain Gravel is fed from the bottom by springs that make the water cold near the bottom of the deepest hole, about nine feet (not as many springs here). A moun-tain bends the river from north to the west at Blue Hole. Another bends the river to the south again at Mountain Gravel. You can see a squat concrete block at the left end of the first large diving rock. It once supported a diving board, about 40 percent from its anchor to the right.




Minerva Tennessee Gulley Heard and her twin brother David Titus Gulley in photo taken in about 1953 by Robert Heard at David’s ranch 10 miles north of Uvalde. They celebrated their 80th birthday together at Wyatt Heard’s house in River Oaks in Houston in 1989. David could stand on the corner beside Uvalde’s Kincaid Hotel on Saturdays, listen to out-of-town ranchers talk, and tell you which canyon they came out of -- the Utopia (formerly the Sabinal), the Frio, the Dry Frio, the East Nueces or the West Nueces. Slightly different pronunciations developed in their isolation from one another. This phenomenon also occurs in Appalachia, where some folks still speak 16th and 17th century, Elizabethan English. Photo by me. Here’s something I think I learned from Fenley’s first book I did not know. In her interview of Cordelia Taylor Kincaid that begins on p. 179, Kincaid, born in 1864, reveals that her father Thomas Edward Taylor, who ran ranches between Bandera and Kerrville and also in West Texas,tried to give a home to all the old Confederates in the country” p. 180. He continued to take everybody in, veteran or not, after he settled on Leona Ditch south of Uvalde. Beds filled their small house, and pallets covered the floors at night. Cordelia said her mother did all the cooking, sewing, milking, and chopping wood for everyone, never getting any help from the freeloaders. Cordelia’s husband, “Mr. Kincaid,” did not build the Kincaid Hotel in 1926 -- her Kincaid sons did. That continued the family tradition of take-everybody-in. So the sons followed the example of their maternal grandparents. And Cordelia lived in the hotel at the time of the Fenley interview.



This is an appropriate place to put David W. Barnhill, near the Kincaid story. From Fenley’s first book, pp. 185-191, Barnhill got born in Kansas in 1861, lost his first father, who was one of 17 out of a company of 75 to survive Civil War fighting from Wilson Creek in Missouri to Louisiana, only to be killed in 1863 by a falling tree while building a pontoon bridge at Lake Providence LA. This forced David’s mother to married again, to Sgt. Patrick O’Connor, who took the family to Montana, where O’Connor helped establish Camp Cook, and where O’Connor’s Unit survived a four-day Indian siege despite lacking sufficient ammunition. David’s second dad then took the family to the Dakota Territory and then to Detroit, where David began school at age 13, but not before first reading the Bible straight through. David finished about half of “Detroit highschool,” before O’Connor got posted in 1879 to Fort Clark on the Texas frontier.

The railroad ran only to San Antonio then, so O’Connor’s troop, arriving in the Alamo City on San Jacinto Day (1879), after a few days marched 140 miles northwest through the hills of the breakup of the Edwards Plateau to Fort McKavit in Menard County, then the 115-miles a bit west of due south to Fort Clark at Brackett (now Brackettville). Barnhill told Fenley San Antonio claimed a population of 20,000 in 1879, which divided about equally between “white, Mexican and negro.” San Antonio boasted no building taller than the three-story “I.O.O.F. [Independent Order of Odd Fellows] hall,” which stood “right on the corner where the Gunter building is.”

Barnhill called “the Indian situation” along the border “bad,” noting the Indians would steal horses in Texas, take them to Mexico, then steal horses in Mexico and take them to Tex-as. So the Indians, who did not recognize any boundaries for themselves, used the boun-daries of others to their advantage.

Barnhill began teaching school in Brackett at “about 18.” When school let out, he worked on the FORT CLARK WEEKLY NEWS, and would continue in the newspaper business off and on for most of the rest of his life, including owning the Uvalde News, which later merged with the Uvalde Leader, until he sold it in 1899 to H.P. Hornby.

Brackett must have been as wild when Barnhill reached it as Uvalde was in the early 18-70s. Brackett held 15 saloons and counted from 50 to 75 gamblers. Gamblers made great jurors, he said, convicting 14 or 17 men accused of murder on the railroad between 1882 and 1883. Barnhill held several minor offices as well as teaching school on the “West Prong” of the Nueces. He moved to Uvalde in the late 1880s and received at least one death threat in 1890 for what he wrote about a man “cutting up a Mexican.” As a county commissioner in 1893, he recalled a delightful story about John Nance Garner, then county judge. A Mexican woman came to a commissioners’ meeting and called out Garner to show him a pair of earrings she needed to sell for $12 [perhaps $100 today]. Garner asked members of the commission for their opinion of the earrings. The jewelry impressed them. He paid the woman $12 and dropped the earrings in a drawer. “Some-time later, he happened to open that drawer while we were in session again and pulled out a pair of blackened earrings. He threw them down on the table and said to us, ‘Now do you see what you d______ fellows did to me?’ He never would ask our opinion on jewelry any more.”

The proudest moment of his public service, Barnhill says, came in about 1900 when he noticed the owner of three of four lots “next to city park grounds on the Leona [Mother Neff Park today?] was preparing to cut down those large live oak trees growing there, so I went to him and asked him to wait till I could see about buying the lots for the city. Not having the money, the city council authorized me to take up subscriptions for the purpose of purchasing the lots.” He raised the money, bought the lots and donated them to the city.

One hundred and five years ago, Uvalde showed itself to be a remarkably progressive and conservtionist city. Now you know why Uvalde probably has more giant tree growing in the middle of streets than any other city. If the citizens themselves did not treasure those trees in 1900, they would be gone today. This is what I mean about mining Fenley for nuggets.



1954, Jan. 27, David Orr (Wyatt and Teddy’s son-in-law) is born six days before President Eisenhower announces the first hydrogen bomb explosion at Eniwetok Atoll in the Pacific on Feb. 2. Actor John Travolta is born Feb. 18 in Edgewood, New Jersey, and memorably stars as President Bill Clinton in Primary Colors in the late 19-90s. In 1954 Englishman Roger Bannister runs the first four-minute mile (3:59.4). Television personality Oprah Winfrey is born on Jan. 29. Director/producer/actor Ron Howard is born in Duncan, Oklahoma, on March 1.

1954, April 27, Phillip Nathaniel Crow Jr. (Nell’s son-in-law) is born 20 days after

President Eisenhower, at the urging of Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, on April 7 supports continued foreign aid for France’s colonial effort to defend its last stronghold in Vietnam, Dien Bien Phu (France loses 95,000 men in Vietnam; America later would lose 58,000). Ike notes failure to support the French would encourage countries in Southeast Asia to tilt to Communism like a “falling row of dominoes.” On that same day, April 7, future Dallas Cowboys running back Tony Dorsett is born. When Dorsett plays for the University of Pittsburgh, he pronounces his name Dor-SETT. After he joins the Cowboys, he changes it to DOR-sett. TV actor Craig T. Nelson (Coach, The District) is born. On April 9, actor Dennis Quaid is born in Houston. Among other films, Quaid stars in 1979’s Breaking Away, 1983’s The Right Stuff, and 1989’s Great Balls of Fire.

1954, June 7, Virginia Heard, Sid and Mary’s fourth daughter, fifth child, is born on the same day the last French stronghold in its colony of Vietnam, Dien Bien Phu, falls to Vietnamese Communists. In 1954 American pop group Bill Haley and the Comets record Rock Around the Clock, which will be used the next year in the film, Blackboard Jungle, starring Glenn Ford. On June 14, President Dwight Eisenhower signs an order adding the words “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance -- as shameless an example of pandering to the religious right asone will find. And this popular president didn’t have to do it. That addition does not favor a specific religion, but it gives governmental approval to religion in general, when the First Amendment guarantees freedom from religion as well as freedom of religion. Since everyone pays taxes of some sort, all of us approve of religion -- or so Eisenhower’s act would lead people to believe.

1954, June 9, Nancy Deen Heard, John G and Joanna’s second daughter, third

child, is born three weeks after the U.S. Supreme Court, by an 8-0 vote on May May 17 in Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, in effect reverses the 1896 decision in Plessy v. Ferguson that allowed segregation through “separatebutequal” public schools. “In effect” because the court did not say it reversed the 1896 decision. It said, “Anything in Plessy v. Ferguson to the contrary notwithstanding.” A rose by any other name smells as sweet.”

1954, Sept. 18, Barbara Langworthy and David Charles marry nine days

before a special U.S. Senate committee unanimously votes on Sept. 28 to censure Sen. Joseph McCarthy. Born on Dec. 21 is tennis star Chris Evert. On Dec. 28 in Mt. Vernon NY, is born actor Denzel Washington, who wins an Oscar for 1988’s Glory and stars in 1987’s Cry Freedom, 1992’s Malcolm X and 1995’s The Pelican Brief and Crimson Tide. On Nov. 10, the world’s largest bronze sculpture, similar to Joe Rosenthal’s famous photo of the second flagraising on Iwo Jima on Feb. 23, 1945, is dedicated in Arlington, Virginia. It is the 179th anniversary of the founding of the Marine Corps (in 1775 at Tunns Tavern in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, making the Ma-rines the oldest service in America). “Similar” because the symmetry of the photo itself is perfect, but the sculptor chose to close the distance between the man placing the pole in the ground and the second man, harming the symmetry.



Dow Heard Sr. with two unidentified men in the Veterans’ Administration Headquarters in Washington D.C. in about 1954. Two or three years later Dow Sr. served as chief chaplain for the VA for the entire country, then transferred to the Houston VA Hospital so he could be near the grandchildren of his first three sons. He retired at 70 in late 1966 and died of cancer Dec. 8, 1969.

[The year, 1955, is another of those years, 1906 and 1907 being the first two, in which no major family event occurred in the 20th century, but it is so pregnant with personalities in entertainment, I decided to include it.]

1955, Jan. 12, in Wichita KS, is born actress Kristie Alley, who will win an Emmy 1n 1991 as bar-manager Rebecca Howe on the TV series Cheers. Six days later, Jan. 18 in Compton CA, actor Kevin Cosner is born. Cosner will win an Oscar as best director at age 35 in the first film he directs, 1990’s Dances With Wolves (which wins six other Oscars including one for best picture). A couple of megabucks movies involving Cosner will bomb, including Water World. On Feb. 21 in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, is born actor Kelsey Grammer, only a month and a half after Alley, with whom he stars in the TV series Cheers. Grammer goes on to star in his own TV series, Frazer, which wins Emmys as the best comedy on TV. Grammer is incomparable as a pompous, pseudo intellectual. Alley later balloons in weight. Dr. Jonas Salk, 39, a research scientist at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine, announces on April 12 he developed a vaccine that will prevent poliomyelitis, better known as polio (which afflicted, among many others, Franklin Roosevelt as a young man; Roosevelt never again is able to stand on his feet without help). Salk developed the vaccine from killed viruses, contradicting accepted orthodoxy that vaccines can be developed only from living viruses. On May 18 actress Debra Winger is born in Cleveland. She will be nominated for Oscars for 1982’s An Officer and a Gentleman and 1983’s Terms of Endearment. Winger is sexy in the same vulnerable, alluring way as Jamie Lee Curtis (b. 11.22.58). Also born on May 18 is Russian gymnast Olga Korbut. Microsoft’s CEO Bill Gates is born on Oct. 28. Gates will amass a fortune at one time worth more than $110 billion, which is equivalent of one half of one percent of the gross national product. John D. Rockefeller exceeds that percentage by a factor of four (2 percent) with his billion dollars around the turn of the 19th century. On July 5, Bill Haley and His Comets record Rock Around the Clock, the first rock-and-roll song to hit No. 1 on the charts, where it stays eight weeks. It becomes the theme music to 1955’s movie The Blackboard Jungle, with Glenn Ford. Guinness Book of Records in 2001 ranks it the third best-selling record of all time, behind Bing Crosby’s White Christmas and Elton John’s 1977 tribute to Princess Diana, Candle in the Wind. Actor Jimmy Smits is born on July 9 and will star on TV’s NYPD Blue series. On Sept. 30, actor James Dean dies when his sports car collides with a truck in California. On Dec. 1, black seamstress Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat to a white man at the front of a Montgomery, Alabama, city bus, resulting in her arrest and fingerprinting (!), launching a bus boycott by blacks that sparked the civil rights movement of Martin Luther King Jr.



About 1955. Self-described “The rotten kid,” about 12, Sue Heard stands beside her grandmother, Yaddie (wife of my Great-Uncle Charlie Heard). Photo sent to me in the late 1990s by Sue Heard Helveston.

1956, Jan. 2, Sydney Dayle Heard and Larry Corder marry the day before actor-

director Mel Gibson is born Jan. 3 in Peekskill NY (his family moved to Australia in 1968, reportedly because the father wanted to avoid service by his son in Vietnam but also because of economic distress). Gibson is nominated for 10 Oscars but wins only one as director for 1995’s Braveheart, in which he also stars. Syd-ney Dayle and Larry are marry a month before, on Feb. 6, the University of Alabama enrolls its first black student, Autherine Lucy, who is suspended after three days of violent unrest and near rioting. Future NFL Hall of Fame QB Joe Montana is born on June 11. Montana quarterbacks the San Francisco Forty-Niners to four Super Bowl wins. Actor Tom Hanks is born on July 9 in Concord, California. Hanks will win back-to-back best-actor Oscars for 1993’s Philadelphia (where he plays a lawyer afflicted with AIDS) and 1994’s Forrest Gump. Arguably, he should have won for 1994’s Apollo 13 and one or two others. But people don’t like to see anyone “too” successful. Darrell Royal once expressed it this way: “Even your friends don’t want to see you win too many games.”



May 30, 1956, Dow Heard Sr. greets former Vice President John Nance Garner at the Uvalde Coun-ty Centennial. Notice dad’s string bow tie. Garner inscribed the photo to dad:

For Dr. Dow Heard

with best wishes

Jno N Garner

July 27 – 58 –





The front of the hardcover book, Oldtimers of Southwest Texas by Florence Fenley, published in 1957 by The Hornby Press, Uvalde, Texas. Larger in size than her 1939 book, this one contains 319 pages, compared with the 1939 book’s 254. Fenley, who attended Uvalde High School with my father in 1917, inscribed this book to him: “For Dow Heard, my old friend, and whose mother was my mother’s friend. May your journey through the pages of this book take you down the ‘Old Trails’ of your memory and may you continue on your successful way in your chosen field. Our admiration of you grows with the years, for your old friends, including me, count it a privilege to know you and Minerva.”


[signed] Florence Fenley

Uvalde Texas

Jan 27 – 1958


My dad typed a wonderful thank you to Florence on March 10, 1958, in which he in-cluded this paragraph: “The book itself is unique. The cover design has captured a pic-turesque image for posterity. The old wooden derrick windmill is a real symbol of the Southwestern frontier that is fading fast.”


Perhaps the main reason this writer includes the image of the book’s cover is because I forgot, if I ever knew, the name for those old windmills with the many wooden blades -- wooden derrick windmill. I remember seeing a few of them, but dad proved correct. The symbol faded fast. Dad predicted the book would be kept and treasured in his family. “For the new generation of Heards it will prove the best historical background I know regarding the culture pattern from which ‘Old Dow Heard’ came.”



From p. 6 of Florence Fenley’s second Oldtimers book, published in 1957. Mrs. Garner, nee Etta Rheiner, as a young woman in Uvalde possessed skills as a nurse for typhoid fever patients (Fenley, 1939, p. 35). Garner, born in 1869, came to Uvalde as a young man from Northeast Texas, where a lung problem made a doctor fear he might come down with tuberculosis and ad-vised him to seek a dryer climate. My Grandmother Lizzie Heard remember-ed seeing Garner ride a mule up the Dry Frio Canyon seeking votes when he ran for office, Uvalde County judge, in the 1890s. Only men could vote then. Grandmother got the right to vote in 1920, at age 43. Garner later got elected to the U.S. House of Representatives, served as speaker of the House, and twice got elected vice president of the United States on a ticket with Franklin Roosevelt (1932 and 1936, when the balance of liberal New York and conservtive Texas worked magic against Herbert Hoover and Alf Landon). Not universally liked, Garner got tagged by the president of the Miners Union, bushy browed John L. Lewis as “a whiskey-swilling, poker-playing, evil old man.” But the best quote regarding Garner, delivered by Garner himself, came when he characterized his office as “not worth a pitcher or warm piss.” That got cleaned up by the newspapers of the day to read “not worth a pitcher of warm spit.” Roosevelt picked Henry Wallace to be his run-ning mate for an unprecedented third term in 1940, when FDR beat Wendell Wilkie. But Democratic leaders thought Wallace too liberal to be on the 1944 ticket, partly because FDR looked like he might not finish that term, so they picked Harry S Truman of Missouri, one of the few honest men backed by the Pendergast machine. Truman headed a Senate investi-gation of profi-teering by defense contractors (the Halliburtons of that day). FDR beat Tom Dewey in 1944. Truman turned out to be a terrific president, but few thought of him as that during his presidency, even when he upset Dewey in 1948. In the 21st century (and even before) Republicans seemed to adopt Truman as one of them (Truman intensely disliked Republicans; see the entry for 1948 above; similarly, the GOP seems to adopt Jack Kennedy; Republicans usually trail the real leaders and their programs by about 40 years). The reason we know Truman poved to be honest is because when Truman retired after Eisenhower beat Adlai Stevenson in 1952, Truman didn’t have any money (compare, for example, Lyndon Johnson), so Congress appropriated $25, -000 a year for Truman. Garner died in Uvalde at 98 in 1967. Giving cre-dence to Garner’s characterization of the vice presidency, FDR did the country a disservice by not telling Truman of the Manhattan Project (atomic bomb).

1956, July 13, John Wyatt Gibbens and Louanna Koen marry a month after

Drs. Jonas Salk and Leonard Schule announce on June 11 they expect the Salk vaccine to eliminate polio within three years, and a week after movie-ac-tor Tom Hanks is born on July 6 in Concord CA. Hanks will win back-to-back Oscars for 19-93’s Philadelphia Story, and 1994’s Forrest Gump.





Left, Robert hoists son Dan (born Aug. 3, 1956) at the Beeville home of Mary Lou’s parents, Wylie and Avis Custer. Right, Dan, 2, stands on the arm of a backyard bench at Wood Street in Waco, where Robert takes graduate history courses at Baylor in preparation to become a college history professor after he leaves the practice of admiralty law in Houston in late 1957. Notice the (red) mark on Dan’s forehead at left. Doctors used forceps to help deliver him. Photos probably by Mary Lou.


1956, Aug. 3, Daniel Rix Heard, Robert and Mary Lou’s first child, is born in

Hermann Hospital in Houston, Texas, 10 days before Democrats on Aug. 13 nominate Adlai Stevenson and Estes Kefauver. Born Sept. 21, 1921, in Helensurgh, Scotland, is actress Deborah Kerr, who will play off-character (which she desired) in one of the great films of all time, 1956’s From Here To Eternity. Kerr will be nominated six times for (but never win) a best-actress Oscar, including for Eternity and as Anna in 1956’s The King and I, with Yul Brenner as the king. This version of King offers a scene that aristocracy-despisers, like me (and our Founding Fathers) find strangely moving. The king stands on a pedestal (with folded arms, I believe) as his many children, from many mothers, file up to and “greet” him, apparently a periodic practice. As I remember, he barely acknowledges them. But when his eldest son, about 15, approaches, suddenly the king drops his arms, turns to face his to-be successor directly and, at the moment the son bows to his father, the father also bows to the son – sort of godhead to godhead. That this scene moves me means there actually is something in the human psyche that craves a superior bloodline. This disgusts me at the same time I feel it. The same emotion fueled the ancient Hebrews in the Old Testament when they demanded a king (I Samuel 8:5). In 1956 American rock singer Elvis Presley records Heartbreak Hotel. Dan later plays first trumpet in the award-winning Westlake High School Band (he won the first trumpet chair in the eighth grade. He wins his district’s Best Actor Award in a supporting role, as Pavel in I Never Saw Another Butterfly. He is an accomplished artist and a writer. But, as it so often seems to happens to gifted youth, in July 1980, he suffers an attack of paranoid schizophrenia that his loved ones could have seen coming if they knew of the signs. The most savage aspect of this illness is that it hides from its victim. Those who suffer from it do not know they have it, and no amount of argument or pleading can make them see it. The malady controlled the remaining 13 years of his life.

1956, Aug. 25, Wyatt Hubbard Heard (Dow Sr. and Minerva’s third son) and

Teddy Moody marry in Houston (brother Robert serves as best man) five days after Republicans on Aug. 20 nominate Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon a second time. On Oct. 18 in Czechoslovakia is born Martina Navratilova, who will emigrate to the United States and dominate women’s tennis in the 1980s.

1956, Nov. 16, Jeffrey Adam Charles, Barbara and David’s son, is born 10

days after Eisenhower and Nixon win reelection on Nov. 6, but Democrats retain control of the Senate and the House. Born on Dec. 7 is Basketball Hall of Famer Larry Bird, who played for Indiana State and the Boston Celtics, then coached the Indiana Pacers.

1957, April 15, Rachel Lynn Gibbens, John Wyatt and Lou’s daughter, is born

three weeks before John F. Kennedy wins the Pulitzer Prize on May 6 for Profiles in Courage, which many think JFK aide Ted Sorensen wrote, or at least edited. Born on March 20 in Atlanta is director/producer Spike Lee (real name: Shelton Jackson Lee), who will specialize in films about racism. He wins an Oscar for screenplay for 1989’s Do the Right Thing. Singer Elton John is born on March 25. Actress Michelle Pfeiffer is born April 29 in Santa Ana CA and will earn three Oscar nominations.

1957, May 1, Ann Louise Herzig, Beverly’s second daughter, is born the day

before Sen. Joseph McCarthy dies on May 2. Born Aug. 9 in New York City is actress Melanie Griffith, best remembered for 1988’s Working Girl, with Harrison Ford, for which she receives an Oscar nomination. NBC Today hostess, Katie Couric is born on Jan. 7.




1957 photo of Dow Heard Sr., the best likeness of him at that age (almost 61) that I’ve seen.



Mother, Minerva Tennessee Gulley Heard, August 1957, almost 59 years old. I don’t know who took the photo.



Christmas 1957, in Waco TX, I feed five-month old son Dan. Photo probably by Mary Lou.



Dan, about 2, and his grandfather, Dow H. Heard Sr., 61, in 1958.


1958, March 7, Mary Joan Sydlosky (Peter West Gibbens’ wife) is born a week

after the United Postal Service on Feb. 28 increases firstclass mail from three to six cents an ounce. On March 20 is born 5-2 actress Holly Hunter in Conyers GA. She wins best-actress awards at the Berlin Film Festival and by the New York and Los Angeles film critics for 1978’s Broadcast News and wins a best-actress Oscar for 1993’s The Piano. She also wins Emmys for Roe v. Wade and The Positively True Adventures for the Alleged Texas Cheerlead Murdering Mom. In 1958 American composer Leonard Bernstein produces West Side Story, which will be made into a film in 1961.

1958, April 28, Lawrence Pike Heard, Wyatt and Teddy’s first child, is born six

weeks after the United States on March 17 successfully launches its second space satellite, the 3-1/4 pound Vanguard I, into a wider orbit than any previous satellite (the Soviets launch the first satellite, Sputnik I, on Oct. 4, 1957, and Sputnik II a month later); the first successful U.S. satellite, Explorer I, follows Sputnik by four months, on Jan. 31, 1958. This writer tried without success to see Sputnik I, but saw Sputnik II, which carried a dog, a month later. The Soviets claimed the dog’s last food contained poison. No onebelieved them. Also sharing April 28 as her birthday, in 1941, in Valsjobyn, Sweden, actress Ann-Margaret (real name: Ann-Margaret Olsson). NBC’s Tonight Show host Jay Leno also is born on April 28 (1950).

1958, July 5, Peter West Gibbens, John Wyatt and Lou’s son, is born in the

same year Brazilian soccer player Pelé scores in Brazil’s victorious World Cup Final at age 17.

1958, July 8, Victoria Wilson (Jeffrey Charles’ wife and Barbara’s daughter-in-

law) is born the day after President Eisenhower signs the bill making Alaska the 49th state. Also born on July 8, in Philadelphia, is actor Kevin Bacon. Born on Nov. 22 in Los Angeles is actress Jamie Lee Curtis, daughter of Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh. Jamie Lee must have been traumatized when Lee Harvey Oswald assassi-nated John F. Kennedy on her fifth birthday.

1958, July 11, Arvie Nell Heard and Bobby Jack Griffin marry 18 days before Ei-

senhower signs the bill creating the National Aeronautics and Space Administra-tion (NASA) on July 29. In 1958, the English translation, by Kimon Friar, of Greek author Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Odyssey:A Modern Sequel (33,333 lines of epic poetry) is published.

1958, July 19, William Sidney Gibbens and Lillian Jouleen Hurta marry 17 days be-

fore the nuclear-powered submarine Nautilus completes the first undersea cros-sing of the North Pole on Aug. 6. On May 29 in Topeka KS, actress Annette Bening is born. Bening, who projects a blinding smile, earns a Tony nomination for Coastal Disturbances in the 1980s, a supporting Oscar nomination for 19-90’s The Grifters, then meets actor-director-pro-ducer-playboy Warren Beatty on the set of his 1991 film Bugsy and marries him. Bening also played in 19-90’s Postcards from the Edge and 1995’s The American President, which inspires the TV series The West Wing. On Oct. 16 in West Covina, California, is born actor Tim Robbins, who will star in such movies as 1988’s Bull Durham, and 1994’s The Shawshank Redemption. He directs 1995’s Dead Men Walking, for which he is nominated for an Oscar. Future sexy actress Jamie Lee Curtis, daughter of actors Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh, is born on Nov. 22 in Los Angeles.

1959, May 30, Robert Ray Gibbens and Laquita Joy Kennedy marry 10 days

after American citizenship is restored to 5,000 Japanese Americans, who re-nounced it during World War II. A month before Bobby and Laquita marry, April 3 in Saratoga NY, is born actor David Hyde Pierce, whose resemblance to actor Kelsey Grammer leads to his being hired to play Frazer Crane’s broth-er Niles on the TV series Frazer. (Too be sure, Pierce paid his dues as an actor, but this stroke of good luck catapulted him to national fame.) Two months after Bobby and Laquita marry, actor Kevin Spacey is born on July 26 in South Orange NJ. Spacey will win an Oscar for best-actor in 1999’s American Beauty, and a supporting Oscar for 19-95’s The Usual Suspects. Michigan State and Los Angeles Lakers star basketball player Earvin “Magic” Johnson is born on Aug. 14 in Lansing, Michigan. On Oct. 21, the Guggenheim Museum of Art opens in New York City. It is the best-known and most-visited (because of its location) of the many masterpieces of architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright (1869-1959). On Feb. 3, rock singer Buddy Holly (and two other singers) dies in a plane crash in Iowa at age 22. Holly and his band, The Crickets, achieved international fame with songs like That’ll Be the Day and Peggy Sue. Born in Lubbock in 1936, Holly wins only grudging honor until early in the 21st century in his home town, much like Woody Guthrie in Okemah, Oklahoma -- the fate of talented people unlucky enough to be born in stultifying surroundings. Holly so impressed a new singing group in England that they adopted a name similar to his Crickets -- The Beatles. On Aug. 21, Hawaii becomes the 49th state.

1959, Dec. 26, Glynis Jeanne Griffin (Crow), Bobby Jack and Nell’s first

child, is born 12 days before a small American submarine, the Trieste, sets a new record on Jan. 7, 1960, when it descends 24,000 feet into Pacific waters off Guam. Born in 1959 is actress Emma Thompson in London. She will win an Oscar as best actress for 1992’s Howards End and nominations for best-supporting ac-tress and best actress in the same year for 1993’s In the Name of the Father and The Remains of the Day. Thompson then wins an Oscar for the screenplay of 19-95’s The Sense and Sensibility, an adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel, for which Thompson also earns another best-actress nomination.

1960, Feb. 4, Johanna Beth Corder and Louis Beltran Jr. marry three days

after four black students stage a sitin on Feb. 1 at a “whites only” lunch counter in Greensboro NC. Diver Greg Louganis is born on Jan. 29 and will win Olympic gold medals.

1960, Feb. 11, George Kane (Susanna’s husband) is born five days

before Eisenhower asks Congress on Feb. 16 for a $4 billion foreign aid and military assistance program.

1960, April 12, Daniel Wyatt Gibbens (John Wyatt and Lou’s third child), is

born six days before Democratic presidential candidate John Kennedy on April 18 answers a question about his Catholic faith while campaigning in West Virginia, saying: “I don’t think that my religion is anyone’s business.” On April 1, the first weather satellite, TIROS-1, is launched from Cape Canaveral FL. Weather forecasters screw up as often now as ever (too many variables even for today’s computers to sort out, and when computers can, some of the magic of life will vanish). On May 9, the Food and Drug Administration approved a birth-control pill as safe to use. G.D. Searle and Co. of Chicago manufactures the pill, Enovid. From this moment many women behaved as promiscuously sexually as many men, and men born before 1940 learned to their dismay they needed to ask, as women did for generations, “But will you respect me in the morning?”

1960, June 8, Diana Gibbens (Bobby and Laquita’s first child) is born three

weeks after Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev says on May 5 his country will not participate in a summit conference with the United States in Paris until America apologizes for the U-2 spyplane overflights of the U.S.S.R., which President Eisenhower denies for several days but finally admits on May 11 took place for the previous four years (after Khrushchev announces the Soviets not only shot down the U-2 at 70,000 feet with a missile on May 1, but captured alive its pilot Gary Powers). The conference is canceled. Powers dies in a helicopter crash in 1971.
































Wiredesk editor Robert Heard of the Long Beach Independent grins for the camera in 1959. The wire editor’s (actually the news editor’s) job then required the collection and organization of AP and UPI stories for submission to the copy-desk editor. If the copy-desk editor, who selected which state and national stories to run, drank during his meal break, he would ask for only the AP stories, because while UPI stories sometimes boasted flashier leads or death totals, they proved less relia-ble, and the copy-desk editor did not trust his judgment after drinking. Previously, I worked on the copy desk editing stories and writing headlines. By 1959, I requested and got an assignment as a general-assignment reporter. My first assignment came on Sept. 30, 1959, to interview California Gov. G. “Pat” Brown (father of later Gov. Jerry “Moonbeam” Brown) at a Chamber of Commerce reception. All that I recall from that event is that when it came time for my photographer to take his pic-ture, Brown moved his cocktail glass to his other hand and behind his body. Notice I smoked in this photo of me as wire-desk editor. Earlier, in 1958, when I worked the copy desk for the Waco News-Tribune and took graduate history courses at Bay-lor, I quit my 2-1/2 packs of unfiltered Camels a day but substituted a dozen donuts a day. My weight zoomed from about 210 to 228, so I embarked on a se-vere diet of 900 calories a day. I lost 31-1/2 pounds in 30 days, to tip the scales at 177. I went back to smoking and did not quit again until the surgeon general’s report of January 1964.





1959, Dan at about age 3, with his dad, Robert, in Long Beach CA. Look at that face. Has there ever been a sweeter boy? Robert is wearing the high-top Flore-sheim shoes he ruined later, December 1963, slogging up into the area devastated by the Baldwin Hills Reservoir Disaster.


1960, Aug. 15, Teddy Lewis Heard (Orr), Wyatt and Teddy’s first daughter and second

child, is born the day before actor Timothy Hutton is born in Malibu CA. Hutton will win a supporting Oscar for 1980’s Ordinary People. Teddy is born three weeks after the GOP national convention nominates Richard Nixon and Henry Cabot Lodge on July 27.

1960, Sept. 7, William Patrick Gibbens (Sid and Jouleen Gibbens’ son) is born two days


before actor Hugh Grant is born in London (he stars in 1997 with Julia Roberts in Nottinghill, and three weeks before the first of four nationally televised debates between John Kennedy and Richard Nixon is held on Sept. 26 in Chicago.

1960, Sept. 21, Will Dexter Nelson, Dick and Francis’ son and second child,



is born two weeks before the second KennedyNixon debate is held Oct. 7.

1960, October, sometime in this month I went to a Nixon headquarters to get a couple of

bumper-stickers reading, Nation Needs Nixon. I wanted them in order to cut one up and make a new bumpersticker reading, No Nation Needs Nixon. That earned me two se-parte flat tires. The night of the election in November, I refused to get excited when TV media said John Kennedy defeated Richard Nixon. I wouldn’t believe it until later returns came in around 1 a.m. the next day. Then I helped others kills a bottle of booze, and we all celebra-ted. Turned out, we still acted prematurely. Kennedy’s win did not become assured until a couple of days later.

1960, Dec. 4, Thomas Allen Heard, Robert and Mary Lou’s second son, second and last

child, is born in Long Beach CA almost a month after John Kennedy is elected president on Nov. 8. Tom stars in the movie True Rights in 1999. Fifteen days before Tom’s birth, actress Allison Janney is born in Boston and will become press-secretary C.J. Gregg in a popular new TV show, West Wing, for which she wins the Emmy as best-supporting actress in a drama in 1999 and 2000. She also appears in the 1999 Oscar-winning movie American Beauty, with Kevin Spacey (who also wins an Oscar). Six days after Tom is born, actor-director Kenneth Branagh is born in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Branagh will earn nominations as best actor and best director for 1991’s Henry V. In 1960, American physicist Theodore Maiman develops the first working laser.

1960, Dec. 22, John Henry Heard dies of prostate cancer at age 61 in an ambulance leaving

Reagan Wells two weeks before President Eisenhower announces on Jan. 4, 1961, the United States is severing relations with Fidel Castro’s Cuba.



President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Photo from The Torch Is Passed (a quote from JFK’s inaugural address, Jan. 20, 1961), p. 41, Associated Press, 1963.

1961, Jan. 20, John Fitzgerald Kennedy is inaugurated President of the United States

in bitter, blowing cold in Washington DC, becoming the first Roman Catholic elected to that office. He defeated Richard Milhous Nixon by 119,000 popular votes in No- vember 1960, carrying Illinois and Texas (vice-presidential-candidate Lyndon Baines Johnson’s home state) as the key to the Electoral College win.



Jacqueline Kennedy, wife of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Photo from The Torch Is Passed, p. 42, Associated Press, 1963. Why John Kennedy, even with the philandering example of his father, would play around with other women when married to Jacqueline is a mystery to me.

1961, Feb. 9, Pamela Anne Griffin, Bobby Jack and Nell’s second daughter, second

child, is born one day before George Stephanopoulos, a key aide to President Bill Clinton in the early 1990s, is born. Pamela is born 15 days after John Kennedy holds the first live-TV presidential press conference in history on Jan. 25, 1961. In his inaugural address five days earlier, on Jan. 20, Kennedy declares: “And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” Actor George Clooney, nephew of sing- Rosemary Clooney, is born on May 6. On June 9 in Edmond Alberta, Canada, is born actor Michael J. Fox, who is best remembered for 1985’s Back To the Future, 1995’s The American President, the TV series Spin City, which he quits after disclosing in 2000 he possesses Parkinson’s Disease. Actor Laurence Fishburne is born on July 30 in Augusta GA. In 1961 Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin (gah-guh-RIN) becomes the first man to orbit the earth. In August 1961, the East German Communist government builds the Berlin Wall to stop the mass mi-gration from the Communist bloc to West Berlin and freedom. It will not be torn down until 1989. Born Jan. 26 is ice-hockey player Wayne “The Great One” Gretzky. Actress Kristin Scott-Thomas, as demurely cool and blonde and sexy as they come (until she wants to glow red hot), is born on May 24 in England. She is nominated for the best-actress Oscar for 1996’s The English Patient. On May 25, President John F. Kennedy declared America would work to land a man on the moon “within this decade” and return him safely to earth. On July 20, 1969, with a year and a half to go to meet Kennedy’s deadline (the year 1970 would finish the decade of the 1960s), Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon and safely returned to earth (as did the two other astronauts. On Sept. 1 is born Dee Dee Myers, one of President Clinton’s press secretaries and a model for the fe-male press secretary on a top television series at the turn of the 20th century, West Wing.

1961, Feb. 17, the Independent, Press-Telegram in Long Beach CA publish-

ed the first map from the only composite photograph of the backside of the moon, which Robert Heard obtained from a lecturer at Long Beach State College (now University). Only a couple of months into my reportorial career, I scored a national scoop (even an international scoop). The Soviet Union led us in the space race at this time and took pho-tos of the backside of the moon, which we never see from the earth, the moon’s mass being greater on the side facing us. Only the Soviet Union possessed these photographs and this map. Because they did it first, they got to name all the major features on that side of the moon. Dr. E.R. van Driest, director of the Aero-Space Laboratories of North American Aviation’s Space and Information Services Division in Dow-ney, California (north-northeast of Long Beach about 15 miles, later site of the headquarters of the Apollo program), addressed an audience of 50 at a program sponsoredby the college’s chapter of the National Society of Professional Engineers. He showed slides of Soviet photos and the map obtained for $5 by NAA research geologist Dr. Jack Green at a meeting two months before at a meeting of the International Astronomical Union at Polkovo Observa-tory in Leningrad (whose original name of St. Petersburg the Russians restored after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989). The map below is the newspaper’s reproduction of the original map I obtained after Van Driest’s lecture (I still have the original). Previously, the Soviets released only one fuzzy photo of the backside of the moon taken by its Lunik space probe. That one photo got flashed around the world, but this became the first time a map of the entire back of the moon got published outside the Soviet Union.




First map of the backside of the moon published outside the Soviet Union. See “1961, Feb. 17” above.



(L-to-R) Jerry Leon Burns, 20; hazel-eyed Linda Ann Butler, 18; and Tod D. Hammond, 19. A stationwagon’s design flaw kills three young people en route back from Laguna Beach, a coastal town 25 miles south-east of Long Beach. Out for a ride on a “windy evening,” they burned to death after their car failed to make a turn, and the gas tank, behind the dashboard, burst into flame. Burns planned to become a policeman. Butler wanted a modeling career. Hammond possessed “a dry, natural wit.”


1961, Feb. 24, the Independent ran my story on three youngsters killed in an

automobile accident southeast of Long Beach a few nights before the story. “They went down to Laguna Beach for pizza the night before -- a regular run a lot of their gang makes,” said Burns’ sister, Mary Marth. “They had little money, so they must have been just joy riding like they did so often . . . We think the wind must have had something to do with it.” Another friend, 17-year-old Nancy Raney, rode with them earlier in the evening. They let her out at her home a 9 p.m. because her mother wouldn’t let her stay out later than that. My story does not give the precise date of the accident, nor the name of the vehicle, but I think the name of the car held five letters and began with a “P.” After my story appeared, no more cars with gas tanks behind the dashboards got built.

1961, early in my reportorial career. April 1961 or January 1962 (I can’t be

sure), I interviewed R. Buckminister Fuller, designer of the geodesic dome. Fuller thought “outside the box,” to use a modern cliché. He got the idea for the geodesic dome in the 1920s but ran into red tape and bureaucracy. By the early 1960s, this no longer proved true. Indeed, the U.S. Exhibition in Moscow in 1959, covered by one of his domes (which, despite its strength, could be lifted by helicopter), captivated the Soviets so much they bought it. When I interviewed Fuller, builders of the future Houston baseball stadium knew they would cover it with a geodesic dome. “We take a child concerned with the universe and put him into a school where we deliberately start him with parts: A-B-C, 1-2-3; everything must be in categories,” Fuller told me.



July 28, 1961, Miss Holland, Stam “Stanny” van Baer, 19, got crowned Miss International Beauty in Long Beach. Previously, she won the swimsuit competition and the Miss Photogenic award. A day before she won the overall crown, I sen-sed something going on between the ravenhaired lass and me. She looked at me with the blackest eyes I’d ever seen. Dazzling smile. We stood in a hotel hallway chatting. We waved as we went to our separate rooms. If the con-testants, heavily chaperoned, enjoys less guarding, I might have gone to her door and knocked to see if she really felt a physical attraction for me, or if all occurred in my mind (like-ly). I quoted her in one of my stories as saying she held boyfriends back home, but nothing serious. She said she liked American men better than the wooden-shoed Hollanders. After she won the entire competition, of course, I couldn’t get within two blocks of her. Photo by Kent Henderson.


After Stanny won the Miss Photogenic Award (or Congeniality?), she posed for pho-tographers in the attic of the hotel where she stayed. They clicked off a few miles of celluloid, finally stopped asking for “one more” and began stepping away. At that point my photographer, an older guy named John H. Naegle, taught the others and me a les-son. Before that, he hung back and took not one picture. Satisfied at last that the others wanted no more, Naegle walked over to wooden shutters on a window and opened them, bathing Stanny in natural light. Neagle then knelt in front of her to take some photos. All the other photographers crowded around behind him, of course, and began taking more shots. Neagle also later took a shot of the soles of my and my son Tom’s feet in February 1963 during a craze over 50-mile hikes. I remember once standing be-side him as we used urinals in a men’s room. A deodorant cake rested in the bottom of each urinal. Naegle commented, “When I was a young man, I could split one of these (with his stream). I also remember a story told about him before I came to the paper in 1958. Supposedly he accompanied a woman to a four-foot-high wall across which one could see the entire newsroom. Standing behind the woman, he shouted to a guy he knew across the room, “How would you like to fuck this?!” The newsroom fell silent. Moments later, the other newsmen learned the woman proved to be stone deaf.


1961, Nov. 4, Caroline Gray Heard (Wyatt and Teddy’s daughter-in-law) is born six weeks

after President Kennedy signs the bill creating the Peace Corps on Sept. 22. On Sept. 15 is born quarterback Dan Marino. Actress Meg Ryan is born on Nov. 19 in Fairfield CT and will become famous for faking an orgasm in a restaurant scene in 1989’s When Harry Met Sally, with Billy Crystal (a middleaged woman at a table across from theirs, told a waitress, “I’ll have what she’s having.” Ryan stars in 1993’s Sleepless in Seattle, with Tom Hanks. In 1961 American novelist Joseph Heller publishes Catch 22.



Left, Robert and new son Tom (born Dec. 4, 1960) delight in each other in their Long Beach CA home in June 1961. Right, a month later, July 1961, Rob-ert suffers with a contagious illness and forbids Dan, almost 5, from coming near him. So Dan comes as close as allowed, and he brings along a couple of friends. This photo, which I took with an inferior camera, having traded my Canon for a set of Britannica in Waco, still chokes me up. Left photo probably by Mary Lou Custer Heard.

Robert and Tom.


Minerva and Dow Heard Sr. in 1961.



1961, March 9, The Long Beach Independent on this day ran my story on Dr. Linus

Pauling, 60, who spoke at the Jewish Community Center. The Nobel Prize winner for chemistry in 1954, Pauling in more recent years championed peace in his speeches, and he would win a second Nobel Prize, for peace, in 1962. My story did not carry my by-line. I don’t remember why, but looking at the clipping all these years later, I can make a good guess. First, the story ran on the first page of the B section, not the A section. Sec-ond, the story is only eight inches long. Considering the subject of the story and his hon-ors, it called for more length, but obviously got cut. Severely. I know that because I re-memçber some of the interesting topics he discussed that are not in the clipping. There is a strong likelihood I removed my byline, which I held a right to do. Controversial. Pauling spoke frequently about peace in 1961, and such words earned him the same sort of wrath one fetched in 2006 by opposing the war in Iraq. My guess is an editor who dis-liked Pauling butchered my story. Two things Pauling discussed that are not in the clipping concern vitamin C and possible contact with creatures from other worlds. Many con-sidered Pauling’s obsession with vitamin C crazy. He thought taking it in large doses helped ward off many ailments. More important, and of a surprise to me until I reflected on his opinion, is that if an alien civilization contacted us, he said we shouldn’t answer. While we re barely at the stage where we could receive their contact, they almost cer-tainly would not be at that same level but possibly centuries ahead of us in technology. They likely would look upon the earth as a resource to be used by them, even if they ne-eded to get rid of us to make use of it. I thought of what our forbearers did to the Ameri-can Indians.





The Independent on March 24, 1961, ran an interview by me of Stewart Alsop, who, together with his brother Joseph, wrote the most widely distributed syndicated political column in the country. Alsop also wrote a back-page column for Newsweek magazine (news magazines carried clout in those days). I greatly admired the creamy smoothness of his writing, his influence would equal Tom Brocaw today. At the time in the interview, not in my printed story (it should have been), he answered a fatuous question by me regarding whether he wrote for art’s sake or some other reason. He said, “I rewrite everything seven times.” I doubt he really did that, but he made a point. Photo from the back cover of the dustjacket of his 1973 book, Stay of Execution, J.B. Lippincott Company, Phila-delphia and New York, 303 pages. Alsop learned on July 20, 1971, that he held a form of leukemia that likely would kill him in a year, almost certainly in two. The book is about avoiding that prognosis’ worst aspects. He died on May 26, 1974, at Bethesda, Mary-land, nine days after his 60th birthday, three years, 10 months and one week after learning something afflicted him. He finished writing the book in May 1973.

1961, March 24. Also on this date, I tried to get published a halfpage yarn about birds in

Long Beach‘s downtown Lincoln Park. Alas, an editor must have decided my story on Alsop would suffice for that day. I still think the bird story merits repeating. Earl Fredericks, 66, self-styled retired vagabond in the park, told me, “The starlings are losing their legs.” Plus, he said, “The sparrows are losing their tails” and hobble around until they learn to fly again without tails. The director of parks, Donald D. Obert, told me this sounded to him like a “story for the birds.” My concluding line said, “Perhaps the starlings have been kicking the sparrows.”






I hug a piling in San Diego after my 36-foot yacht, Sea Guile, quit the Cinco de Mayo, May 5, 1961, yacht race to Ensenada, Mexico, (largest yacht race in the world) and docked in San Diego. I volunteered to “crew” aboard a yacht and write a story about the race. The reason we quit the contest is because I got seriously seasick. No one told me you aren’t supposed to eat a big meal before sailing. I put away an enormous breakfast. We embarked from Newport, south of Long Beach, at 8:30 a.m. Before we got past the breakwater, huge masses of water cascaded at us, breaking across our bow and showering us with water. A strong wind delayed us by 13 minutes reaching the starting buoy. To this point, we used the yacht’s mo-tor. All six crewmen got a bit green about the gills, but only I looked greenlight gre-en. Finally, captain Larry Whitesides cut the motor and announced, “If you’re not seasick now, you won’t be.” I leaned over the side. That was No. 1. I would throw up four more times, even needing a suppository from Whitesides, but it did no good. The boat rolled so much I couldn’t be sure, lying in a bunk, whether I could see sky or sea out the portholes. I fell out of my bunk a few times. Entertainer Jimmy Durante once said of his seasickness, “The hope that I would die was the only thing that kept me alive.” The world stood ignorant of my embarras-sment, except for the other five crewmen. That exclusive club expanded when Whitesides felt compelled to radio the Coast Guard about my condition. After we reached San Diego, we finished the trip to Encenada by car, where I got introdu-ced to a new drink (or new to me) called a margarita. Tasted as good as Kool-Aid. I drank eight of them. When I woke the next morning, I proved to be still drunk.


I

interviewed artist Ephraim Doner of Big Sur CA, 54-year-old native of the Ukraine, on May, 18 1961. Doner opposed the speed-reading craze then popular. After he read about a high school boy dropped from school because he read only 125 words a min-ute, Doner got a friend to time him reading one of his favorite poems and calculated his speed at 35 words a minute. He invited me to Big Sur at a time when writer Henry Miller (Tropic of Cancer, etc.) still lived, and resided in Big Sur. Considered a “por-nographic” writer by many bluenoses, Miller wrote realistically about human sex. His stuff would be tame today. Dumb me, I did not take Doner up on the visit.



I wrote a story about “Jingo the Jester” clown that he liked so much he offered to perform at our house on 220th Place in Long Beach on Dan’s fifth birthday, Aug. 3, 1961. On a nearly straight line up from the middle flower at left are Dan (face scrunched up, a bit of sunlight on lower right jaw), his mother, Mary Lou, and Mary Lou’s moth-er Avis Custer. Robert and Mary Lou’s friends Jimmy and Mary Kay are in atten-dance. Jimmy sits beside the sidewalk (head in front of the car windshield; Mary Kay, a dark-skinned beauty who weighed heavier than she looked (Robert lifted her once), sits at far left, in a white blouse, holding balloons. There are 18 kids altogether, mostly from our neighborhood. Photo by my friend, Bill Hunter, the cop house reporter for the Independent from Wichita Falls who went to high school with the Hansen twins that later lived in the Greer House at Baylor with Robert and Wyatt. Bill’s daughter (I’ve forgot-ten her name) sits on the ground to Dan’s right, in front of Mary Kay. Bill helped me put together a red wagon for Dan on Christmas Eve, and he later drew the assignment to go to Dallas for the aftermath of the John Kennedy assassination Nov. 22, 1963.



Dan on a merry-go-round at Long Beach’s Nu Pike amusement park about the same time as the previous photograph, 1961, at age 5. I don’t remember who took the photograph.





Aug. 22, 1961, at this point in my career as a reporter, I wouldn’t turn down anything not life-threatening that would make a good story, preferably with good photos (well, I did ride once in a helicopter over a women’s prison). Here I am attempting to learn to water-ski as the paper wanted to call attention to the Seventh World Water Ski Championships at Long Beach’s Marine Stadium. In this first shot, I remember the one rule instructed by my two teachers, Rosemry Margan, 24, women’s trick-and-jump champion for Australia, and blonde Betty Wheeler, 29, also an Australian champ -- I kept my arms straight. Before I got on the skis, I wrote in my story: How soft can one guy have it? Visions of me cavorting on the beach with a couple of fair damsels and later gliding serenely over the water kept me in a state of happy antici-pation all the way to the stadium. Once there, I began having misgivings. The skiers made it look easy, but what would it be like if a living, breathing human being fell while going so fast? The closer it came time for us to motor to the beach, the worse I felt. “We’re going to go through with it, aren’t we?” I asked timidly, hoping someone -- anyone -- would call it off. When we met the girls, they took my mind off the thing I needed to do for all of five seconds. They proved pretty all right, but how can a con-demned man think of girls? “How much do you weigh?” Betty asked. “Two-fifteen,” I answered with a tight voice. “How many stone is that?” she inquired. Discussion fol-lowed on how many pounds to a British stone. Suddenly, I remembered how much of a science it used to be in England for the hangman to have the proper length of rope in relation to the number of stones the guest of honor weighed -- just enough to break his neck, but not enough to decapitate him. I shuddered. She weighed seven stone. We figured I weighed about 16. “That’s too bad,” she said. “The line may not be strong enough for you -- it may break. I knew she said that just to cheer me up. On the beach, the girls showed me how to squat properly. The most important thing to re-member, they said, is to keep your arms straight. Let your legs do the work. Keep them bent. Don’t stand erect. Remember, arms straight -- “or you’re lost.” We got into the water. I squatted. The girls held up the front ends of the skis. “Ready?” “No.” “Let it go.” The boat took off. “Holy mackerel,” I thought, “this thing is a monster, and it’s alive.” Three things happened in quick succession: I stood straight up, I bent my arms, and POW, the ocean hit me. We tried it twice more. The second time, I thought, “I’ll do it this time if it kills me, and there’s no question that it will do just that.”




Split-seconds later, I forgot the No. 1 rule and bent my arms. Blonde Betty Wheeler, 29, also an Australian champion, served as one of my teachers.




Third photo shows me paying the price for forgetting Rule No. 1. My butt felt like it hit a brick wall.


Rosemary Margan, one of my two teachers. Wait a minute. Her arms are bent. Oh, I guess one can do that after once getting erect on the water. Photos by Bob Shumway. One good thing came from the story I wrote about that experience. Bud Nagel, publicity agent for nearby Disneyland, sent me a letter saying “it was the finest humor piece I’ve read since the days of [Ring] Lardner and {Heywood] Broune.”


I interviewed Eleanor Roosevelt on Dec. 12, 1961 (less than a year before she died on Nov. 7, 1962), after a speaking engagement by her in Long Beach to the Kahn-Guggenheim Forum of Temple Israel. Because of the subject, my newspaper printed my interview in a box at the top of page one. My effort ranks low in my career because I did not know enough about my subject. One line earned me a couple of postcards from elderly women (as shown by their unsteady handwriting): “Sure, everyone knows of Eleanor Roosevelt, but there she rxisted in person, moving into the room with a regal, shuffling walk. At 77 she is slightly stooped, and her stoop reminds me of Winston Churchill.” The postcard writers identified with and liked the phrase “regal, shuffling walk.” Imagine an aristocracy-bashing guy like me using the word regal. But suppose I knew enough to ask her about the soul-tearing revelation that her own daughter, Anna, facilitated Franklin’s renewed relationship at the end of his life with Lucy Rutherfurd Mercer, with whom, he swore to Eleanor almost 30 years before that he would never again stumble? Would Mrs. Ro-osevelt have answered me? Almost certainly not. Likely, she would have en-ded the interview there. On the other hand, knowing her own life neared its end, she might have. We’ll never know. In my own case, I never spoke out-side the family about the possible effect on my marriage my later wound by the UT Tower sniper in 1966 exerted (with the exception of an interview about 1980, with a view toward a book, by a former managing editor of the New York Post whose name I’ve forgotten and who authored a book on America in the 1920s). What we will tell strangers about our personal life sometimes is staggering. And when people closer to us ask why, we say, “You never as-ked.” This happened to Robert Caro after persons close to Lyndon Johnson complained from an Austin audience about those who knew Johnson ne-ver telling other writers certain things, thereby casting doubt on Caro’s integ-rity. Those friends stood in the same audience and said, “No one asked me before.” In my report of my interview with Mrs. Roosevelt occurred these words: “She wears glasses, of course, and a hearing aid, but is seemingly tire-less as she steadily [I should have said dutifully] walks her appointive rounds of dinners and receptions lines, and gives public addresses as often as many politicians on the hustings. When talking to you she shifts her gaze from one of your eyes to the other frequently, and speaks with precision, choosing words deliberately and skillfully.” Only recently have I wondered why no photograph accompanied my story on Mrs. Roosevelt. After I became a general-assign-ment reporter, I got most of the good assignments, and a photographer nearly always accompanied me. Perhaps City Editor Art Wild, who made the as-signments, considered Mrs. Roosevelt still too controversial. Or maybe all the photographers worked on other assignments. The paper did put my story in a box above the fold on page one, perhaps because of its short length and non-controversial words. Photo of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt from page 30 of Time-Life Books’ 1930-1940, perfect-binding magazine, a six-decade treatment of This Fabulous Century (1900-1910, 1910-1920, 1920-1930, 1940-1950, 1950-1960, 1960-1970).




The bottom of my dad’s letter to me dated Dec. 29, 1961, in which he said

he would begin writing his memoirs. I earlier told him I might want to write

about the Jonesboro AR church war of 1931. If he ever started his memoirs,

I never saw them. That did not surprise me, because my eldest brother Dow

said he would destroy love letters exchanged many years earlier by my par-ents. Mom wanted them destroyed because, I think, she did not want anyone to see their misspellings or questionable grammar, but they would have been invaluable to me, particularly regarding the “womanizing” charge of four-flusher Joe Jeffers.





I interview the leader of the Navy Blue Angels aerial performers in the Ward Room aboard the Carrier Hornet (the same carrier that later picked up Apollo 11 after the first landing by men on the moon in 1969) as a reporter for the Long Beach Independent in 1961 or 1962. Notice I still smoked. Not until the Surgeon General’s report came out in January 1964 did I quit a habit of 2-1/2 packs of unfiltered Camels a day. The first three weeks proved difficult. Quitting drinking in recent years presented a more difficult problem. I did it for five months, June 30, 2005, to December 2005, be-fore sipping a small amount of cognac.


1962, sometime in February (I can’t find the clipping but have the month folder with her

name, among others, on it) I went north of Los Angeles to interview buxom-blonde Jayne Mansfield, a renowned cat lover. Long Beach would host some sort of cat show, thus the inspiration for an editor for my interview of her. She and her (second?) husband, body-builder Mickey Hargitay, possessed an enormous, heart-shaped bed. Near her front door sat about 28 scrapbooks that measured maybe two feet wide and nearly that tall, four five inches thick, stuffed with newspaper clippings about her. As I sat facing her, I suddenly felt pressure against my left knee. I looked down and saw an ocelot that weighed about 60 pounds butting it head against my knee. I froze. Turned out, she pos-ssed two of them, but I never saw the other. Plus, the house crawled with normal-sized cats. I remember a famous photo of Mansfield leaning over a nightclub table (earlier or later, I don’t remember which) at which sat buxom Italian actress Sophia Loren. Mans-field’s low-cut dress exposed part of at least one nipple, as Loren stared at her (Mans-field’s) breast. Mansfield’s daughter, Mariska Hargitay, today stars on the CSI-SVU (Crime Scene Investigation-Special Victims Unit) television series. SVU investigates sex crimes. Mansfield died at almost 34 on June 29, 1967, in a highway accident in Louisiana.

1962, March 3, my story about the Legion of Honor appeared this day in the Indepen

dent. Only veterans who won the Congressional Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross or the Navy Cross (the service cross, for the army or air corps, and the Navy Cross, ranked immediately behind the Medal of Honor as decorations for valor) could be members of the Legion. In my story I called the legion an “aristocracy of guts.” Major Sid Goldstein, U.S. Army, ret.), pictured with my story, commander of the Cali-fornia Chapter of the Legion, which met once a month, won the Distinguished Service Cross for leading a 12-man assault force that captured 67 Germans in Italy in WWII.





Two French pilots became the first persons to fly over the Atlantic east-to-west (against the prevailing wind). This is one of them, Maurice Bellonte, 65 at the time of this “Staff photo” and my interview of him for the Long Beach Independent for the March 8, 1962, edition. The other flier: Dieudonne Costes. They took off from Paris in their Breguet biplane Question Mark on Sept. 1, 1930, and landed 37 hours and 18 minutes later in New York on Sept. 2. A crowd of thousands, including Charles Lindbergh, the Ameri-can who first flew the Atlantic three years earlier, from New Jersey to Paris in 1927, gre-eted them. The pair received between $75,000 and $80,000 from municipal and state governments on a nationwide, 40-city tour. Texas alone gave them $25,000, equal to the prize money Lindbergh won in 1927. “Gov. Eastwood [actually Gov. Dan Moody in 1930; there never has been a governor of Texas, or any statewide-elected Texas official, named Eastwood] wanted us to fly from Paris to Dallas [there’s been no Mayor East-wood of Dallas, either]. You know, Dallas was [a] big town, and New York was . . . ,” he put his palms together and chuckled. Bellonte rated another flight he and Costes made much more dangerous. In 1929, they flew 6,000 miles nonstop to Manchuria in 52-1/2 hours. For five of those hours they flew at 18,000 feet to clear mountain ranges in Asia, without oxygen and with the temperature at 40 below zero. They wore faces burned by the sun and cold at the end of that flight. Born in 1897, Bellonte’s history included being a bomber pilot in WWI, and underground organizer in WWII, and a flier again in 1944 and 1945.

1962, March 26, Lisa Kirkpatrick (Jerald Corder’s wife and Sydney Dale’s daugh-

ter-in-law) is born on the day the U.S. Supreme Court rules in Baker v. Carr that federal courts can order reapportionment of seats in a state legislature; this monumental decision began in a lawsuit in Tennessee, which failed to reapportion in more than 50 years, which gave far greater weight to rural voters vs. city voters; it becomes known as the “One man, one vote” decision. On Jan. 15 in Toronto is born actor and hyper-comedian Jim Carrey (full name James Eugene Carrey). Basketball player Shaquille O’Neal is born on March 6, the 126th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo in 1836.



Neil Armstrong at the time of my interview of him as an X-15 test pilot on March 29, 1962.




Ensign Neil Armstrong, when he served in Fighter Squadron 51 (“Screaming Eagles”) on the carrier Essex off Korea in 1952, a de-cade before I interviewed him on March 29, 1962, in Long Beach CA, when he served as a test pilot in the X-15 rocket plane program at Edwards Air Force base. Seven years later, he became the first man to step on the moon. I served as a Marine lieutenant in Korea in 1952. Photo from Armstrong’s “official” biography by James R. Hansen, First Man, Simon & Schuster, New York, 2005.




Neil Armstrong climbs aboard a jet fighter in Korea in 1952. Photo from Hansen’s book.



Gag shot: Friend and fellow VF-51 aviator Her- sh Gott enjoys being lifted by Armstrong in a light moment on the carrier Essex off Korea, 1952. Photo from Hansen’s book.





Neil Armstrong holds daughter “Muffie” at a family outing in 1959. Photo from Hansen’s book.




Karen Anne Armstrong, Janet and Neil Armstrong’s daughter “Muffie,” born April 13, 1959, shown at a bit over 2-1/2 years old at Christmas 1961, a month before she died of brain cancer on Jan. 28, 1962. Photo from Hansen’s book.


1962, March 29, I interviewed Neil Armstrong (younger than me by less than four

months; see 1930), more than seven years before he walked on the moon. He came to Long Beach to speak to a Boy Scouts group at a time when he served as a test pilot in the X-15 rocket plane program at Edwards Air Force Base. I held no way of knowing, nor would he have told me, he lost his 2-1/2-year-old daughter Karen “Muffie” Armstrong to a malignant brain tumor two month before the interview. Hansen writes, “People who knew Armstrong well indicated that Neil never once over the years brought up the subject of his dau-ghter’s illness and death. In fact, several of his closest working associates stated that they did not know that Neil ever had a daughter” (p. 164). Grace Walker, wife of test pilot Joe Walker, recalling Joe’s suppressing his grief after the 1958 death of his son, called it “a pilot thing.” “Most of them act pretty stoic. They would say they had an ‘okay flight,’ and then they would go into the bathroom and vomit” (p. 165). I couldn’t have known about his loss of his daughter, and he certainly would not have told me. My interview of Arm-strong did not amount to much. Armstrong is a shy man and proved a poor in-terviewee. He is one of those guys who allows his actions speak for him, some-thing we all could emulate, especially me. Karen’s death devastated Armstrong, but he did not show it in public, says Hansen. Armstrong picked “Muffie” as an endearing form of muffin. Armstrong didn’t blame himself for her disease but wondered if his body housed a gene that might be responsible. Armstrong also became an astronaut in the same year that I interviewed him, 1962, and later saved his two sons, one older and one younger than Karen, in a house fire in Houston. (See July 20, 1969, and 1994.

1962, March 30, Lisa Gail Carter (Sid and Jouleen’s daughter-in-law) is born 11 days

before President Kennedy and British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan appeal to the Soviet Union on April 10 to agree to an international ban on nuclear tests. Basketball guard John Stockton is born on March 26 and with the Utah Jazz (Utah kept the namr despiteits originating in New Orleans) will break the all-time National Basketball Associ-ation record for number of assists in a career.

1962, May 19, Janine Richard Nelson (Will Dexter’s wife) is born six weeks before the

U.S. Supreme court rules in Engel v. Vitale on June 25 that the reading of officially approved prayers in New York public schools is unconstitutional. Born a month and a half after Janine, on July 3 in Syracuse NY, is actor Tom Cruise (real name: Tom Cruise Mapother IV). After suffering from dyslexia as a boy, and a broken home, he gets his first film role at age 19. Cruise will earn two Oscar nominations, for 1989’s Born on the Fourth of July and 1996’s Jerry McGuire, as well as star in top movies like 1988’s Rain Man, with Dustin Hoffman; 1992’s A Few Good Men, 1996’s Mission Impossible; and 2000’s Mission Impossible II. On Feb. 20, Astronaut John Glenn (b. July 18, 1921) be-comes the first American to orbit the earth, three times in his Mercury capsule. Of the orig-inal seven astronauts, Glenn logged more flight time in aircraft (fighters) than any of the others, around 39,000 hours, as I recall. A general-assignment reporter for the Long Beach Independent, Press-Telegram (California) at that time, I drew the assignment to do a man-on-the-street interview story about Glenn’s flight, largely, if not entirely, because I recently bought a “miniature” tape recorder (about the size of a box of kitchen matches, the smallest available then), making it easy to carry around. The only thing I remember about that assignment is that I spotted a man across the street waiting for the light to change so he could cross over to my side. A strange-looking guy, he wore an overcoat, although one almost never needs one in Southern California. After the light changed, I walked into the intersection to meet him halfway. As I started to speak to him, he looked straight ahead, waved me aside and kept walking. On July 19, actor Anthony Edwards is born. He will get his major break as Dr. Green in the television series ER (Emergency Room), which ranks No. 1 for several years.




On July 18, 1962, former Vice President Richard Nixon came to Long Beach’s Buff-um’s department store, the main such store in the city, to sell and autograph his first book, Six Crises. At the time, Nixon campaigned for governor of California, a race that he lost. After the book-signings in the store’s basement, Nixon, accompanied by storeowner Harry Buffum, agreed to an interview in the store’s fourth floor restaurant. As I sat across the table from Nixon and Buffum, Mrs. Lucile L. Pash of Long Beach shakes Nixon’s hand as Nixon holds her copy of his book, preparing to autograph it. After Nixon lost the gubernatorial race, liberals on the newspaper staff, like me, liked to say, “Nixon for mayor.” But a few years after losing that race, Nixon did a smart thing and moved to New York City, a new base from which he successfully ran for president, beating Hubert Humphrey by 400,000 votes after Chicago police rioted in beating down protesters of the Vietnam War at the Democratic Convention in Chicago. Photo by Dick Tolbert of the Long Beach Independent, Press-Telegram.

1962, sometime in 1962, I think, I served as president of the Newspaper Guild at the Long

Beach Independent, Press-Telegram. The main thing that makes that memorable is an incident that occurred during one of our regular negotiations with management for a new contract. The head of management -- I forget his name, even his title, but recall his arrogance -- asked me a question about, I think, something to do with expenses of run-ning a newspaper. Fair question. I did not know the answer. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, noting I did not know what I talked about. A perfect response lay out there for me to give, but I did not think of it at the time, as I did later, for example, with Lyndon Johnson (see May 30, 1968). Here is what I should have said: “If I lack data on expenses you pay to run these newspapers, it is because you withheld that data from me.” However, I also should note an example of my own high-handedness. At a guild meeting, I made an unpopular ruling that someone from the floor chalenged. Fine, I said. Let’s put it to a vote. The challenger won. Again, I said fine, handed a gavel to the guild vice president and stepped down, never again to act in the capacity as presi-dent. Too often in my life, if I didn’t get my way, to hell with it.

1962, Aug. 21, Isabel Denise Nelson (Stark) (Dick and Francis’ daughter) is born four

days after Food and Drug Administration researcher Frances Kelsey is praised on Aug. 17 by the medical profession for her opposition to the tranquilizer thalidomide, which causes birth defects. On Aug. 4, six-time Cy Young Award-winning Texas pitcher Roger Clements is born. In 1962 Russian novelist Alexander Solzhenitsyn publishes One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.

1962, Oct. 29, Jerald Bret Corder, Sydney Dale and Larry’s son, is born the day after

Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev “blinks,” in the famous expression of Secretary of State Dean Rusk, and announces on Oct. 28 he will remove missiles from Cuba. On Oct. 22, President Kennedy shows photographic evidence on television of missile bases under constrution in Cuba. The “Cuban Missile Crisis” will be the closest the world comes to thermonuclear war between the two superpowers. Born Nov. 19 is actress Jodie Foster (real name: Alicia Christian Foster), in Los Angeles. Foster wins two Os-cars, for 1988’s The Accused and for 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs, and receives two more nominations. Born on Dec. 22 is actor Ralph Fiennes (real name: Ralph Na-thaniel Fiennes, and he keeps the pronunciation of his first name – RAY-ff -- despite spel-ling it Ralph, and Fiennes is pronounced Fines) in Suffolk, England, twice nominated for an Oscar (Schindler’s List and The English Patient).





Sometime in February 1963, Independent photographer John H. Neagle (see Stan van Baer, 1961) got the idea to illustrate the 50-mile hike craze at that time by sho-oting my large feet alongside those of son Tom. Taped to my right foot is a “Had it, Jack” message. Taped to Tom’s foot is one reading, “Me, too.” Just over two years old, Tom didn’t like this photo when he saw it in the newspaper. It embarrassed him. He felt his privacy got invaded. He got over it later.




In the foreground at left, I interview former Congressman John Rousellot, second from right, a leading member of the then-new John Birch Society on March 13, 1963. Rou-sellot criticized news media for “ignoring” the new archconservative group. I wrote a story for the Long Beach Independent that ran 25 column inches. A year later, in March 1964, I joined the Associated Press in its Los Angeles Bureau.


1963, May 1, a story I wrote for the Independent’s edition on this day that led to the war-

ning you will see on any package of charcoal briquettes. Mr. and Mrs. William Gilbart of Long Beach and their two children, Steve, 13, and Debbie, 9, camped in the Cleve- land National Forest, about 100 miles southeast of Long Beach. (The then-largest tele-scope in the world, the 200-inch Palomar, finished in 1948 and installed in that forest.)


After cooking hotdogs on a hibachi, adult males and females played cards in a trailer that evening until nearly midnight. The women kept the hibachi in their trailer for warmth. A trail-er window and a vent are open, but some of the women felt ill before going to bed and sus-pected the hotdogs. They did not know the dying briquettes gave off deadly carbon mo-noxide fumes. The only lettering on the briquettes bag aside from its brand read, “Process Patent Pending.”


Stevie and a boyfriend slept the previous night in the Gilbart’s station wagon. Stevie’s friend later complained of the cold at the 2,700-foot-elevation of the campsite and re-turned to his family’s trailer this night, April 21.


The Gilbarts gave Stevie a flashlight and put the hibachi in the station wagon with him. The father, fearing a possible fire, put the family’s 2-year-old dog Lady in the station wagon, thinking the dog would bark in the event of trouble. The father also opened a wing window an inch and a half.


In the parents’ trailer, the mother awoke for no particular reason around 3:30 a.m. She pushed back the trailer curtain and saw a flashlight burning in the station wagon. She woke her husband. He went to the car and discovered both Stevie and Lady with foam on their mouths. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by the father failed. Forest rangers at the Oak Grove Station called for an ambulance at Hemet, 40 miles to the north.


A strong boy and a senior patrol leader in his Scout troop, Stevie won several merit badges, including one for swimming a mile. Both Stevie and Lady died.


The Gilbarts called my newspaper a week later because they wanted to warn others. The day after my story appeared, Long Beach Democratic assemblyman Joseph M. Nick, said my story prompted him to call for an investigation. The California Legislature later man-dated all charcoal briquette bags carry a warning label saying the coals emit poisonous carbon monoxide. Other states did the same.





Steve Gilbart






Photos show the progression in make-up from 38-year-old Hal Holbrook to 70-year-old Mark Twain for Holbrook’s Mark Twain Tonight! In Long Beach On May, 1, 1963. He later mastered another six hours of Twain material.



1963, April 30, one of my best interviews occurred the day after my story on Stevie



Gilbart. Actor Hal Holbrook appeared on a Long Beach stage in his Mark Twain impersonation. Twain ranked as (and still is) my literary hero. Allowed backstage, I watch-ed the 38-year-old Holbrook take more than an hour to make his face look 70. His per-formance showed brilliance! With a long drawl, while fingering a lighted cigar, Holbrook delivered about a third of the six hours of Twain’s lines he memorized. He performed Mark Twain Tonight! I recall one of his best line: “America has no native criminal class, criminal class, except Congress.” Holbrook performed his impersonation 2,000 times be-fore he went into the movies (he played the character of Deep Throat in All the President’s Men (1974), and appeared in many other films and TV shows). He found a way to make a living n a performane akin to acting. Later, he increased his Twain repertoire to 12 hours.





June 1963, a Buddhist monk burns himself to death in Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) in protest against the South Vietnamese government’s mistrea-tment of Buddhists. This suicide, the first of several by Buddhists militants, sparked widespread demonstrations against the government. At this point, the United States stationed fewer than 100,000 “advisers” in Vietnam. Any-time you see people willing to do terrible things like this to themselves, you should ask yourself if your intervention is an advisable thing to do. But our government considered the fight against the Vietcong part of our “contain-ment” policy against Communism (in this case specifically, against the Chi-nese Communists). But any expert regarding Southeast Asia could have told us that the Vietnamese fought against China for 2,000 years. We got our-selves involved in a civil war among Vietnamese. We finally extricated ourselves from Vietnam in 1975, after more than 57,000 Americans died there. My paper asked for volunteers, in 1962, I think, to cover the trouble in Vietnam. I volunteered but did not get selected, despite my service in the Marines in Korea 10 years earlier, probably because I held a wife and two kids. Photo from p. 271, Vietnam: A History, Stanley Karnow, Viking Press, New York, 1983.

1963, Aug. 29, Here’s another example of a story I never would have a chance to write if I

stayed in Waco instead of moving to the Los Angeles metropolitan area. Climbers from the first successful American expedition to Mount Everest came through Long Beach with some guys who live higher in the world than anyone else (16,000 feet and higher) to visit warm-blooded creatures who live in one of the lowest parts. I interviewed the leaders of the expedition, Norman G. Dyhrenfurth, 44, and 6-foot-5 James W. (Big Jim) Whittaker, 34, together with five Sherpas, the first Sherpas ever to visit America. They went to Marineland and held out fish for surfacing Orcas (Killer Whales). Sherpas live in Nepal and Tibet. The climbers, including Sherpa Nawang Gombu, 5-foot-2, stood atop the 29,028-foot-high peak of Everest the previous May 1. Gombu is the nephew of Tensing Norgay, the Sherpa that accompanied New Zea-lander Edmund Hillary (later titled Sir Edmund Hillary, as if that somehow enhanced what he did; actually, it enhanced the status of the entity, the British monarchy, that bestowed the title “sir”) in the first known ascent of Everest and return on May 29, 1953. Dyhrenfurth told me, “A climber never says he ‘conquered’ a mountain. The mountain is still there, unchanged and capable of killing people.” The Soviets still ranked ahead of us in the space race at this point, but they did not climb Everest.



Sherpa Nawang Gombu, nephew of Tensing Norgay, the Sherpa who accompanied New Zealander Edmund Hillary in the first known ascent of Everest and return on May 29, 19-53, feeds a fish to an orca (killer whale) at Marineland south of Long Beach on Aug. 29, 1963, as Norman Dyhrenfurth, leader of the first successful American ascent of Mt. Everest four months before, on May 1, 1963. The sherpas live at 16, -000 feet (more than 1,000 feet higher than any mountain in the 48 contiguous states. Orcas live in the depths of the oceans. I visited Marineland off-duty, but now I can’t stand outfits like that or San Antonio’s Seaworld, or zoos, for that matter. Im-prisoning wild animals for us to gawk at is repugnant to me now. “Staff Photo.”



Sid Caesar points to the script of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad,

Mad World in downtown Long Beach in late July 1963. I cov-

ered the Long Beach scenes in the filming the movie. (See Stanley Kramer in 1913).




Edward Everett Horton, “owner” of a hardware store in the movie It’s Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World shows “detective” Stacey Harris his sourpuss face.




Doodles Weaver and Edie Adams pose for newspaper photographer Skip Shumway during filming of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World in downtown Long Beach in late July 1963. At one point I found myself sitting next to Edie in the van they used to keep out of the sun when not acting. She wore a split skirt. I found it hard to concentrate.




It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World director Stanley Kramer confers with his wife Ann, working as a “script girl” on the film. Kramer already listed several out-standing films under his belt (mainly as director but some as producer), including 1942’s The Moon and Sixpence (George Sanders and Herbert Marshall); 1949’s Champion (Kirk Douglas); 1950’s Cyrano de Bergerac (José Ferrer); 1952’s High Noon, with Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly; 1954’s The Caine Mutiny, with Humphrey Bogart and José Ferrer; 1960’s Inherit the Wind (one of this writer’s all-time favorites, about the 1925 Scopes Trial), with Spencer Tracy, Frederick March, Gene Kelly, and Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter in the later television series M.A.S.H.); and 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg, with Spencer Tracy, Burt Lancaster, Judy Garland, Marlene Dietrich, Cliff Montgomery, and Maximilian Schell. Kramer would do a couple of other fine films, 1965’s Ship of Fools, based on Texan Katherine Ann Porter’s book; and 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner? (a controversial film about interracial marriage). The latter starred Sidney Poitier, Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn (Tracy died a couple of weeks after finishing the film). Kramer’s work produced 16 Oscars and 80-some other Oscar nominations. By 1963, after so many sober-sided films, Kramer decided he would try a comedy. It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad World is a slapstick film, but it probably made more money than his serious stuff, such is the tabloid taste of the American moviegoers.

1963, Oct. 7, Susanna Denman Heard (Kane), Wyatt and Teddy’s second daugh-

ter, third child, is born five weeks after a “hot line” between the United States and the Soviet Union is opened on Aug. 30 to prevent accidental nuclear war, and six weeks before President Kennedy is assassinated on Nov. 22 in Dallas. On Dec. 16 actor Benjamin Bratt is born.

1963, July 20, Robert R. Gibbens Jr. (Laquita and Bobby’s second child) is born a

month and three days after the U.S. Supreme Court, on June 17 in Abington Township v. Schempp, reaffirmed its 1962 ban on official public-school prayer and extended the ban to mandatory school reading of the King James Bible in a decision that consolidated several suits, including the one by Madalyn Murray O’Hair on compulsive reading the Bible, but the high court did not use her well-known atheist name in the style (title) of the case. Madalyn and I later became friends when I worked for the AP in Austin. Known as the office agnostic, I always got the assignment to interview her for “balancing comment” on any controversial religious story AP in New York decided to run. She called me a closet atheist. She also became the first one to call me Bob without my correction. She blurted it out: “Bob!” We invited each other to our parties. I later became an atheist as to any organized religion and an agnostic on the question about the possible existence of an intelligence behind the universe. I’ve never understood why every intelligent person who studied the matter did not come to the same conclusion.

1963, Nov. 22, After the assassination of Jack Kennedy in Dallas on Nov. 22, 1963,

it proved tough being a Texan in California -- or probably anywhere else, for that matter. As a Texan, I felt ashamed that it occurred in my state, but I understood completely why, if it did, Dallas would be that site. Before 1963, Dallas showed itself to be the most conservative city in Texas. A group of about 100 businessmen, not formally organized, ran Dallas. Conservative Dallasites spat on Adlai Stevenson (Democratic candidate for president in 1952 and 1956) as he crossed a street to a hotel in Dallas. I later KNEW a man in Stevenaon’a party, state Sen. Oscar Mauzy. On my few visits to Dallas when I lived in Waco (usually for speaking contests or football games), I felt a vague uneasiness from the pressure of a culture that disliked me as much as I disliked it.


We got reports of school children in Dallas classrooms cheering the news of Kennedy’s murder. In my house in Long Beach, as in much of America, we went through four days of wet faces, with Jacqueline and Caroline touching the flag draped over the coffin in the Capitol Rotunda, and John Boy, 3, saluting the funeral procession and its riderless horse with back-turned, empty boots in the stirrups, and the eternal flame at Ar-lington.


Everyone employed at my paper worked overtime during those four days. A fellow Tex-an, Bill Hunter (from Wichita Falls), our cop house reporter, got assigned to go to Dallas and furnish personal reports on the aftermath. Conspiratorialists later made much of Hunter’s and three other journalists’ breaking into Jack Ruby’s apartment the night after Ruby assassinated Lee Harvey Oswald, all would die within a few months. As I remember, those four did not find anything of significance in Ruby’s apartment.


I don’t know about the other three, but I know how Hunter died. Two dumb cops playing quick-draw as they walked down a hallway in the Long Beach police department, entered the pressroom door still playing, and one of them lost control of his gun, tried to grab it in the air and shot Hunter through the heart as he sat at his desk. Mary Lou and I broke the news to Hunter’s wife Lilas.


Whether this factored in Hunter’s death, I don’t know, but I learned those two cops play-ed poker with Hunter, and one of them owed him $1,100. I felt duty-bound to report that to the district attorney’s office. Nothing ever came of it. The two cops got fired.


Hunter and I bought drinks for each other at a local bar before the assa-ssination. I cham-pioned unionism. He fought it. I thought he bought into the phony baloney of individualism peddled by management. Individualism benefits only management and a few, a very few individual workers -- often none at all. Finally, I got Hunter to admit that an employee who worked for a paper for 30 years as it prospered at least held a moral claim on that pro-perty beyond his paycheck. I also recall, Bill helped me put together a red wagon for my first son on a Christmas Eve. I also recalled Bill’s story about his high school football team winning a trip to Mexico, where they encountered actor John Wayne, who peeled off something like $2,000 from his roll of dough to give them for their celebration.



1963, Nov. 22, Jacqueline Kennedy prepares to open a door to a Navy vehicle after malcontent Lee Harvey Oswald assassinates her husband, President Jack Kennedy, in Dallas. Notice her reflection in the car window. Also the blood on her legs (especially the left side) and skirt. She did not change her clothes even for Lyndon Johnson’s swearing-in aboard Air Force One en route back to Washington. Bobby Kennedy is behind her here. Photo from The Torch Is Passed (a quote from JFK’s inaugural address, Jan. 20, 1961), p. 20, Associated Press, 1963.

John John” Kennedy, 3, salutes the funeral procession of his father passing in front of him. His uncle Robert Kennedy (who also will be assassinated 4-1/2 years later) stands behind the boy. Widow Jacqueline Kennedy wears a veil to the right of Robert. Daugh-ter Carolyn stands to the right and in front of Jacqueline. Ted Kennedy stands to Jac-queline’s right. Actor Peter Lawford, married to one of the Kennedy sisters, is visible between Jacqueline and Ted. Jacqueline taught John John how to salute and signaled when he should do that. Photo from The Torch Is Passed, p. 41. Associated Press, 1963.




The scene that seized my heart even more than the one of John John’s salute is this one showing the riderless horse with boots reversed in the stirrups. Jacqueline studied the ar-rangement for the funeral demonstration for Abraham Linconn. Photo from The Torch Is Passed, p. 66, Associated Press, 1963.

1963, Dec. 14,The last important story I covered for the Independent, Press-Telegram


involved the Baldwin Hills Reservoir Disaster on Saturday, Dec. 14, and my own paper embarrassed me on that one. An earthen dam impounded the reservoir, a 900-acre-foot (3,915,000 cubic feet) lake about 10 miles west-southwest of downtown Los Angeles. The dam burst at about 3 p.m. with a cannon-like boom. Two 10-foot walls of water killed several persons, and swept 200 homes off their foundations. The churning water damaged another 1,500-2,000 homes.


My paper did not call me at home and dispatch me to cover the story until early that eve-ning. After I got there, fellow Independent reporter Andy Park found me. I don’t know which of us got there first, but Andy seemed to have no idea what to do. I told him I in-tended to go up into the valley of destroyed homes, despite police warnings that power lines lay on the ground up there and that there would be no light. Andy manned a pay telephone that he handed to me when I got back.


To my shame, my paper ran about four paragraphs of my story atop page one under the double byline of “Andy Park and Robert Heard” the next morning, Sunday morning, and tacked on several dozen paragraphs from the Associated Press story about the disaster, without the common postscript one reads today, “The AP contributed to this report.”


The paper did run my sidebar story under my byline on page two. I located the worst area where the intersection of Cloverdale and Sanchez Drive existed. The water gouged a 25-foot deep gash there, 75 feet wide, and for a distance of two blocks. Slabs of con-crete piled 12 feet high in some places on side streets as the water fanned out. Deep, suc-king mud covered all streets half a mile below the reservoir for a distance of eight blocks. The mud sucked the heel off one of my shoes, and I put some of my notes in that shoe to keep the nails from penetrating my foot. I found two teenage boys that I shepherded uphill to where most of the dam still stood. Three times, I talked myself out of being arrested by police seeking looters in the glare of helicopter lights.


In my trek through the mud I ruined my high-top, black Florsheim shoes. When I told that to my managing editor, Miles Sines, and asked to be reimbursed, he said simply, “What-ever you think is fair.” The shoes cost $35 but they showed wear. Sines’ remark made me the actor in the reimbursement and demanded my honest assessment. I figured about $20.

1963, Aug. 13, David Leon Gibbens (Sid and Jouleen’s son) is born five days after singer-

actress Whitney Houston is born on Aug. 8 in Newark, New Jersey. She stars in, among other films, 1992’s The Bodyguard, with Kevin Costner. In that movie, she sings I’ll Always Love You, a tune written by buxom actress-singer Dolly Parton, who pos-sesses a nice voice that can rise to falsetto, but Houston’s version blows every other singer away. David is born 15 days before Martin Luther King Jr. leads a March on Aug. 28 of more then 200,000 on Washington, championing peaceful desegregation and equal opportunity; in front of the Lincoln Memorial, King makes his “I’ve got a dream” speech. There is a photograph of Hollywood stars that responded to King’s march invitation, walking three abreast, in the second photographic section of Parting the Waters: America in the King Years, 1954-63, Taylor Branch, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1988, between pages 688-689. Several are identifiable, including (sit down for this) Charleston Heston in the front rank on the left, plus Harry Belefonte, James Garner and Marlon Brando; only later did Heston become a gun nut. King wins the Nobel Peace Prize on Oct. 14, 1964. He will be assassinated by a white racist on April 4, 1968, in Memphis. In 1963, American environmentalist Rachel Carson publishes Silent Spring.





Mr. Quarterback (1963 Heisman winner Rogr Staubach of No. 2 Navy) meet Mr. Linebacker (Tommy Nobis of No. 1 Texas) in the Jan. 1, 1964, Cotton Bowl, which Texas won 28-6. Navy coach Wayne Hardin said before the game, “When the challenger meets the champion and the challenger wins, then there’s a new champion.” Texas coach Darrell Royal, usually snappy with a country witticism (“Dance with who brung ya.”) said only, “We’re ready.” Talk about ready! A rival coach of Navy tipped Royal to study film of Navy’s hand signals from the sideline, which barely needed deciphering. Texas knew what defense it would face all game long. “We had a Hungarian lock on them,” Royal later said. But mainly, Texas fielded better players. Recruiting decides most big games, not coaches. Royal, famous for not passing the ball, did what he usually did. When an opponent brought eight and nine players to the line to stop the run, then it delighted Royal to pass, which Texas did, long, twice, to its fastest player, Phil Harris, against one-on-one coverage, for TDs. Staubach, one of the better and most competitive quarterbacks, run or pass, discovered Nobis, who finished third in the Heisman voting, could run nearly as fast at 230 pounds as Staubach. Staubach later led the Dallas Cowboys to two victories out of four Super Bowl appearances, when most of the Longhorn fans rooted for him, not against him. Nobis went on to become “The Franchise” of the Atlanta Falcons NFL team, but played essentially in the same years as the Chicago Bears’ Dick Butkus, gener-ally acclaimed the greatest linebacker in history. Similarly, Houston Cougar for-ward Clyde Drexler played in the National Basketball Association as perhaps the greatest forward in history, except he played in the same years as Michael Jordan. Hardin, the Navy coach, spoke incorrectly before the 1964 Cotton Bowl game. In those years, the regular season decided the national champion. Bowl games did not figure into it until after the 1969 season in the AP poll (the big one; 1970 for the UPI poll). Photo from Lou Maysel’s Here Come the Longhorns, Stadium Publishing Company, Fort Worth, 1970; taken by a photographer for The Cactus, the UT yearbook.




Photo of me in early 1964, about the time I went to work for the Associated Press in its Los Angeles Bureau. I don’t remember who took this photo.




Dow Heard Sr., at his VA office in Houston in June 1964. Behind him on top of a filing cabinet are the custommade leather boots he paid $100 for in Eng-land in about 1943. Coming from a poor bckground in the Dry Frio Canyon, dad and his siblings prized ele-gant footware. Robert gave these boots to Johnny Heard, spokesperson at the Heard Reunion, in about 2000.




Tom, foreground, 4-1/2, and Dan, almost 9, feed pigeons at San Juan Capistrano CA, about 40 miles south-southeast of Long Beach near the coast in July 1964. Photo probably by Mary Lou.




This is what I mean about my dad’s handwriting, in a letter to me in California on Feb. 20, 1964. You don’t have to read the content to appreciate the calligraphy (beautiful hand-writing). For those who don’t want to use their computer zoom or magnifying glass to read the letter, here is what he said:

Dear Robert: Mom and I got pretty excited about your last letter -- the new job [with the Associated Press in Los Angeles] and the long range prospects of a move back to Texas! And you wrote with enthusiasm about the possibilities -- we liked the tone in your voice. The AP is a great organization and they have some of the best reporters in the business. Good for you and a double dose of congratula-tions. If it is OK with you, mom and I have agreed to keep this new job to our-selves. We have a reason (and it may not be a good one -- but on the other hand it may) not to mention it to other members of the family. We don’t want anything to happen to that new connection before you actually get on the payroll. (Mom picked up a bit of conversation among the female members that indicated that someone meddled with your application for a job with the Houston Post -- etc.) Anyway it is up to you and Mary Lou about telling others in or outside the two families. Perhaps I am just overcautious on such matters. Anyhow mom and I are not telling anyone for the present -- and not until we get the green light from you. (Over)”


Dad didn’t need to worry. I’m sure I know who messed with my application with the Post, which ceased publication back in the 1980s, I believe, after surviving for many years against the Houston Chronicle, which unfairly got a huge tax break (compliment of the Jesse Jones Foundation) in its competition with the Post. I’m sure Dow Jr. exerted his influence against a possible hire of me by the Post. Dow frequently bragged about the people of influence he knew, and they included Oveta Culp Hobby, owner of the Post. Dow never got over my leaving the Houston admiralty law firm of Royston, Rayzor and Cook in 1957, which job he credited himself as securing for me -- and he may indeed have been a factor, by telling senior partners of several law firms that I finished third on the Bar Exam. He knew I did not do that, so he stretched the truth. I tied for 10th out of 165 takers of the exam, and led the Baylor contingent of 10, which included two Phi Beta Kappa guys. I’ve always been a good testtaker, but that’s mainly a quirky thing. How-ever, I saw some practices I won’t go into here at that law firm that I considered unethi-cal, so I left. To be fair, I should note I began to understand that the law is one of those professions one does not master. A perfectionist, I dislike spending time on anything I can’t be a master of. After two years taking graduate history courses at Baylor following my departure from the law, I felt the need to get out of Texas. I considered myself the only person in Waco in 1957 that read Henry David Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience. After six years in California, I wanted to get back to Texas, thinking, wrongly, that I could make a difference.


Actually, Dow Jr. could not have queered this move with the AP. First, I got the job with the AP Los Angeles Bureau because I merited it. I proved to be a damned good reporter and writer. Some things are bigger than individuals with pull. I joined the AP specifically to later seek a transfer to Texas at a livable wage. That idea held no sure promise, because transferring from the Los Angeles Bureau to anywhere in Texas would not be considered a “lateral” transfer. But I got lucky. I sent several letters to the Texas bureau chief in Dal-las. I also did a fine job in Los Angeles. When an opening occurred in Houston in 1965, I got it. I think I needed to pay for the move, but that’s OK. And a year later, in 1965, a rare opening occurred in Austin (the next one occurred only 12 years later with my depar-ture for a U.S. Senate campaign and for freelance writing). Many folks in whatever pro-fession want to live in Austin, and I targeted Austin all along. We moved to Houston in February 1965, then to Austin on Jan. 10, 1966.


I learned a counterintuitive thing. It isn’t the younger children who miss the old life most. It’s the older children. Same thing happened to my brother Wyatt. A little over two years after his first wife died, he married again. He and Teddy birthed four children. I thought it would be tougher on the younger children to adjust to a new mother. In fact, they did it much easier than the older children. In the case of my family, our older son Dan missed California more than Tom, who to this day loves Austin more than I think Dan ever did.


I should note that with my independent streak, I wrote a few things later for the AP in Tex-as that AP management did not like. I’ll give one example. In the early 1970s, a devel-opment occurred in the impending trial of the speaker of the Texas House, and I put some-thing in my tagline (last paragraph) to that story about that day being Yom Kippur, the Jewish say for atonement. The speaker later got convicted by a jury in Abilene, Texas, on a change of venue. I got born judgmental and opinionated. I should have been a col-umnist. My wounding by the UT Tower sniper in 1966 no doubt later saved me more than once from getting fired.


1964, sometime this year, my only one with the Associated Press in Los Angeles, Jack

Quigg, our state editor and the best newsman I ever knew, assigned me to a forest fire in Santa Barbara, California, probably in late summer. I worked that story at Santa Barbara three or four days. Quigg later wrote me a note praising my work. I never knew of such a note I knew that he wrote to any one else, and I considered it a great compliment. Quigg could type 80 words a minute nearly flawlessly, including bulletins and urgents. That means under pressure.


Also this year, probably in the fall, I found myself at the California Jet Propulsion Laboratory at Cal Tech in Pasadena the night the United States would crash a rocket into the surface of the moon. I’m sorry I don’t remember this story better, and I have no paper trail (like a clipping) regarding it. The idea behind the story fascinatied me. Man never before touched the moon in any fashion. No one knew if the accumulated dust of four billion years might be several thick or not on its surface. A camera in the nose of the rocket would give us pictures of the moon surface down to about 10 feet before the crash. Don’t talk to any-one about this who is a devout believer in Genesis. As I reflect back on this scene, I realize only two AP guys participated in monitoring this experiment, Jack Quigg and me. I didn’t do anything, so Quigg obviously meant for me to be his backup in case anything happened to him. This, too, I consider a great compliment.


After a few weeks in the Los Angeles Bureau, I drew the Graveyard Shift, 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. This required me to walk through the Watts district south of downtown Los Angeles late at night, where police walked in pairs, accompanied by a German shepherd. (A year later, in 1965, after I already transferred to Houston, a riot erupted in Watts that all the national media covered. The main thing I learned on the Graveyard Shift is that the ed-itor who holds that job (alone except for copyboy and a teletype operator) develops an individual yell he emits a couple or three times during the wee hours. It’s a way to reassure oneself of his humanity in that lonely and noisy environment (several dozen running teletype machines). I mentioned this to a couple other guys who held that position, and they told me the same thing happened to them.


During my Graveyard Shift, I think in July, I got a message from the AP office in Kansas City, which then served as the clearing house for all communication between AP offices in the eastern United States and the western United States, and vice versa. The message said a rumor held that John Wayne died. It asked me to check it out. The Rolodex in the AP office in LA listed the home phone numbers of most of the major Hollywood stars. I called Wayne at 3 a.m. “Who the hell is this?” he barked. I identified myself and told him the purpose of the call. He cussed me out good and hung up. A moment later he called back and asked where I heard that rumor. I offered to try to learn and call him back. He agreed. I asked Kansas City for the source of the rumor. Kansas City a few moments later said NBC-TV in New York carried the rumor. I called Wayne and told him. By now he calmed down and we enjoyed a brief, civil conversation. Obviously the rumor proved untrue. Years later, I realized what probably happened. Wayne, a cigarette smoker, died of lung cancer 15 years later, in 1979 at age 72. A later History Channel program on him said his doctor in New York City diagnosed the lung cancer in 1964. A leak from that doctor’s office in 1964 accounted for the rumor.


Jack Quigg later went to work as an editor for the Los Angeles Times, no doubt for a lot more money than the AP paid him. That’s what happens to most talented guys.


1964, Dec. 6, Cynthia Cervantes (Sid and Jouleen’s daughter-in-law) is born a month after President Johnson (with 1964, Aug. 4, Suzanne Michelle Dunlap, Kenneth’s daugh-ter, is born the day before the United States on Aug. 5 bombs Vietcong bases near the Gulf of Tonkin, from which bases Lyndon Johnson claims Vietnamese PT boats attac-ked American destroyers (considerable evidence later shows this not to have been true, but LBJ uses the false accusation to greatly expand the war). On Jan. 7 in Long Beach CA, actor Nicholas Cage (real name: Nicholas Coppola; nephew of movie director Francis Ford Coppola) is born, two years and a month after Tom Heard is born in the same city, Long Beach CA. Cage will win an Oscar for 1995’s Leaving Las Vegas. On Feb. 18, actor Matt Dillon is born in New Rochelle, New York. Actor Rob Lowe is born on March 17 in Charlottesville, Virginia, and receive his biggest career boost as the president’s speechwriter in television’s hit serial West Wing. Actor Russell Crowe, who will win the Oscar as best actor in 2000’s Gladiator, is born on April 7. On Feb.7, the Beatles arrive in New York City. Basketball great (and sharp talker) Charles Barkley is born on Feb. 20.

LBJ’ and running mate Hubert Humphrey in 1964 win reelection by 15.5 million votes over Republicans Barry Goldwater and New York Rep. William E. Miller. Miller is regarded as conservative as Goldwater, who says he picked Miller because, “He drives Lyndon nuts.” Which reminds one of the Goldwater slogans: “In your heart, you know he’s right.” To which the Democrats said of warhawk Goldwater: “In your guts, you know he’s nuts.” But Goldwater’s campaign “purifies” the party, meaning takes control away from the Nelson Rockefeller and East Coast moderates (also meaning purifies the party of humanitarian impulses).


Goldwater’s revolution will allow hardcore conservatives in the South and West to nomi-nate Richard Nixon in 1968 and 1972, and, in 1980, to nominate affable, B-movie actor Ronald Reagan, and combine with independents and many bluecollar Democrats attrac-ted to Reagan’s celebrity to beat peanut-farmer and incumbent Jimmy Carter (with the help of runaway inflation, for which a president is held responsible (indeed, the president is “responsible” for the economy,wherever it stands), and the considerable assistance of Iran’s holding of American hostages). Traditionally, the “anti-‘govmint’” (Reagan) GOP does not grow its own leaders who can challenge for the presidency -- no surprise in a party that blames every bad thing on our own government, which we elect, not some wicked foreign regime. (Instead, it must nominate generals, celebrities or guys born on third base and think they hit a triple, as Ann Richards once said of George Herbert Walker Bush, or men with purses choked with money that they, or their ancestors, in most cases, stole (“Behind every great fortune lies a great crime”; Nelson Rockefeller made his money with kickbacks and monopolistic practices of the original Rockefeller; John Kennedy’s father sold bootleg Scotch during Prohibition, Franklin Roosevelt’s maternal grandfather bought Hyde Park with Chinese opium-trade money, according to the Washington Post National Weekly, April 12-18, 2004). Reagan opposes Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, feeling, as many in his civics-club audiences over the years, felt, that people can make it on their own. Reagan’s point proved true in his own life. He possessed little acting talent, yet in later years adopted the philosophy whose applause lines earned him plaudits before Rotary, Kiwansis and Lions’ audiences. Plus, he turned out to be a terrific actor in his role as president, especially in making things up.


Terri Schiavo is born in 1963. She dies in a Florida hospice on March 31, 2005, almost two weeks after a nutrition tube got removed, for the second time, from her stomach. Schiavo suffers from bulimia before she gets married, balloons to 250 pounds, then loses 100 pounds, and continues to lose weight after she marries. She Brain dead for 15 years, yet Schaivo’s parents fought until the end to keep her body alive. Her case became a national story in late March 2005, but at every level courts turned down the parents’ pleas and let her husband’s decision stand. Earlier, she told friends and her husband she would not want to be kept alive though heroic medical procedures.




Happier days. Mary Lou and I pose for a shot at a going-away party in February 1965 thrown for me by other newsmen at the Long Beach Independent, Press Telegram in California. Even though I then worked for the Associated Press in its Los Angeles Bureau for nearly a year, we still lived in Long Beach. A year and a half later, I became a victim of the University of Texas Tower sniper. She later told at least one woman I never proved to be the same after the sniper incident. My story? She never behaved the same after that. But then she always cared less about the physical part of marrige than I did. The scar replacing my nice, rounded deltoid won no trophies. At least not with her.

1965, Feb. 5, John Hernandez (Joy Minette Heard’s husband) is born the day before

Vietcong guerrillas attack a U.S. military base at Pleiku, in response to which President Johnson for the first time orders bombing of North Vietnamese positions.

1965, Feb. 9, Laura Lynn Moore (Denman’s wife and Wyatt and Teddy’s daughter-

in-law) is born nine days before Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara, in testi-mony Feb. 18 before the House Armed Services Committee, urges the construction of a nationwide network of bomb shelters, which he says could save as many as 27 million Americans in the event of a Russian nuclear attack. If such a waris fought, Robert would prefer to get killed and not have to help bury millions of dead people. On Feb. 21, rival Black Muslims assassinate black activist Malcolm X in Harlem.



Robert holds up sons Tom, 4, and Dan, 8-1/2, near the front yard of Robert’s parents home on Sunset Boulevard in Houston. Inspiration for this pose: a photo of my dad standing on the ground in front of a porch banister and reaching back and around sons Dow Jr. and John on the banister in the mid-1920s. Robert and family arrived in Hou-ston in early January 1965, after he won a transfer from the Associated Press in Los Angeles to Houston. Photo probably by Mary Lou.

1965, April 20, Jeri Ellen Ellson (Daniel Wyatt’s later wife) is born a little over

three months before President Johnson, in the presence of Harry Truman in Inde-pendence, Missouri, on July 30 signs the Medicare Bill, providing health care for the elderly and disabled through an increase in the Social Security tax.

1965, June 14, Joy Minette (Dan Howell and Felda’s daughter) is born five weeks after

the U.S. government announces, on May 9, the total American fighting force in Vietnam is 42,000 men. On Sept. 3 actor Charlie Sheen is born in Los Angeles. He plays an extra at age 9 in the 1974 movie, The Execution of Private Slovak, starring his father, Martin Sheen.




What Robert’s Volkswagen looked like after being struck from behind by a drunk in a Thunderbird and knocked through a railroad’s flashing-light rockerarm on Nov. 28, 1965, the final night of Billy Graham’s Houston crusade in the Astrodome, which Robert covered for the AP. The South-ern Pacific’s freight train moved only 25 miles an hour instead of its usual 55, perhaps saving my life. I suffered a bad headache for two weeks, nothing else exceptfor my billfold. Photo provided by brother Wyatt whose law firm, Baker Botts, represented Southern Pacific. The drunk got eight days in jail.

1965, I also wrote the AP story about the opening of the Astrodome earlier in 1965 (called

that name only later, when grass refused to grow under the opaque material covering the geodesic dome -- see R. Buckminister Fuller in 1961. After they invented Astro-Turf, they start calling it the AstroDome, then Astrodome). My story turned out to be one of the best moments of my reportorial career. At that time, the AP ran what it called the “Big City Wire,” delivered to the 15 newspapers with the top circulations in Texas. In Houston, we sent our stories on the Big City Wire first, where Dallas saw them and edited them, if Dallas thought they needed editing, for the wire that went to all the small papers. It turned out Dallas did not like my story on the opening of the stadium. I made a bit of fun of it, noting baseball is meant to be played on grass under open skies. Also, the buil-der, Roy Hofheinz, incorporated in the dome a special area reserved for World Series games. I considered that pretentious and said so. As events turned out, by 1967 the As-tros enjoyed the services of a general manager, Spec Richardson, who might have built a World Series team, but Hofheinz lacked the judgment to see that, so he fired Richardson seven-plus years later. Anyway, Dallas heavily edited my story about the opening of the Astrodome, but I happily learned that all 15 of the largest newspapers used my version, not Dallas’. All 15. Not until 2005 did Houston win the right to participate in a World Series. The Astros lost four-straight games -- two by one run, one in the 14th inning, and one with a bottom-of-the-ninth inning home run; Houston, with great pitching, fielded few offensive players) to the Chicago White Sox (still known to many of us as the Black Sox because of the 1919 World Series scandal, when several Sox players, including “Shoeless” Joe Jackson -- kid to Jackson: “Say it ain’t so, Joe” -- threw the series).

1965, Nov. 28, the final night of evangelist Billy Graham’s weeklong revival in Houston’s

Astrodome. Graham, who angered fundamentalists by failing to join them in the late 1950s, nevertheless preaches a hell-fire-and-brimstone sermon on this night (see below), which Robert covered for the AP (the editor of the Corpus Christi Caller-Times, Robert Jackson, insisted that the AP cover Graham, citing its earlier AP coverage of a visit to this country by the Pope. In recent years in the late 20th century and early 21st century, Graham preached a God of love more than he did in 1965. For example, on that last night of his crusade in the AstroDome, my AP story on Graham’s sermon included these claims by Graham:


The most wicked man who ever lived was King Manasseh, who ruled Israel for 55 years around the beginning of the seventh century before the current [common] era [698-642 B.C.E.]. Tradition says -- there is no proof of it -- that he had Isaiah the prophet sawed in two. He took his own child and burned him. He took little innocent babies from their mothers and gave them to the Great God Mulloch. [mably as sacrifices.]


But the Bible promises a day of reckoning for every sin. If it were not so, if a person could commit one sin and get away with it, I would be glad to quit preaching, throw the Bible away and agree with you that it is not true. (Me: Agree with “you”? By the way, the Roman Catholic Church, and probably many Protestant churches, too, believe one can sin all of his or her life, and still be saved with a deathbed recantation. What great faiths these are. One can murder, rob, steal -- do anything one wants to, and still get into heaven by declaring faith in one’s dying moment.)


Judgment did fall on Manasseh and on Jerusalem, which God allowed to be conquered by the enemy from the north [presumably Assyria]. Manasseh was dragged through the streets by a chain through his nose. He was spat upon by the people and taken to Babylon 1,500 miles away and thrown into a dungeon.


But Manasseh realized how wicked he had been and prayed for for-giveness.


You know what God did?” Graham asked. “God forgave him! Think of it! Every little child burned by Manasseh, every man he had murder-ed, every lie he had told, every immoral thing that he had done, was wiped out as though he had never committed them . . . God restored him to his throne.”


Manasseh’s repentance, that Graham referred to, apparently is found in II Chronicles 33:10-13. Is there a contradiction here? Graham said God would not permit any sin to go unpunished. Then he describes physical penalties Manasseh suffered in this life, but goes on to say when Manasseh asked God to forgive him, God did! Presumably, Man-asseh also won eternal life in heaven.



1965, Basketball coach Don Haskins (coached 1961-1999) at what now

is called the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP) uses only black players to defeat all-white Kentucky and Adolph Rupp (coached the Wildcats 1930 -1972) in the 1965 NCAA finals 72-65. A 2005-2006 movie Glory Road celebrates that victory. As noted on NPR Jan. 21, 2006, it is a feel-good film with some serious errors or distortions. Haskins did not do it in one year. It took him four years to build his team. He did not tell his white players they would not get on the floor against Kentucky. He started five black (the first time any coach did that in the title game) and ended up playing only blacks. A player tells the actor playing Haskins he’s trying to change the future of basketball. In fact, Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, Oscar Robertson, and Elgin Baylor -- all black -- rated as the biggest stars at that time in the NFL. Further, at least three college teams that started four blacks previously won the NCAA title, beginning with Russell’s San Francisco State in 1955. The actor playing Rupp, asked when blacks would play in the Southeastern Conference, said, “When I turn my hand” (meaning changes his mind). In fact, Rupp later said is a SEC team refused to play Kentucky because a black played for him, that school would forfeit the game under the rules, and he would take all the wins like that he could get. University of Oklahoma City coach (later coach at Texas) Abe Lemons expressed it more humorously. Earlier, he said red-haired people ought not be discriminated against, after a Kansas Jayhawk fan yelled, “Get that redheaded so-and-so,” referring to an Oklahoma City player that Kansas thought roughed up Wilt Chamberlain. Lemons played blacks earlier but noted in about 1970 he expected protes-ters to show up and complain about his all-white team in 1970. He expected to use their protests to his advantage. “I’m gonna tell them I wouldn’t play a black athlete if he was seven feet tall, could hook and dunk with both hands, and dribble like Marcus Haynes. I’m going to say I’m a white ‘supremist.’ and no amount of pressure will ever make me change. Then the protesters will rise up against me and accept the challenge. They’ll go out and find a seven-foot black, a tremendous prospect, and they’ll bring him to Oklahoma City University and they’ll tell me I have to accept the boy or be in a lot of trouble. Then I’ll say okay. I’ll tell them they finally wore me down” (p. 96 of my 1978 book, You scored one more point than a dead man: The Irresistible, Sardonic Humor of Abe Lemons). Incidentally, Pat Riley, who started on the 1965 Kentucky team, still coached the NBA’s Miami Heat in 2006. Riley earlier won four NBL titles.





Son Tom, just turned 5, sits on Santa’s lap in Houston in Dec-

ember 1965.




Less than seven months after moving to Austin (where he inten-ded to end up), Robert is assigned to cover a story about a sniper in the University of Texas Tower near noon Aug. 1, 1966. He did not know about an observation deck on the Tower and assumed the shots he heard came from windows high in the buil-ding. He followed two highway patrolmen who trotted across 24th Street from a position of cover alongside the Home Economics Building (to the left of the van at left). Robert made up his mind he would follow them because that is where the story would be, but he would not trot but run (a knee op-eration in June cut his normal slow speed to about 80 per-cent), in case the sniper saw the patrolmen and waited for someone to follow. Robert counted to five before starting his “run.” He cleared about 25 of the 27 yards he needed to to be shielded by the roofline of the Biological Sciences Building, seen here beneath his chin, when the sniper, who indeed must have been waiting, hit him in the shoulder. Photo by AP photo-grapher Ted Powers about Sept. 15, 1966.

1966, Aug. 1, Robert Lee Heard, 36, an Associated Press reporter covering the story, is shot in the left shoulder by the University of Texas Tower sniper, Charles Whitman, as Robert runs toward the tower from a block north of it. He is one of 31 persons wounded by Whitman, who kills 16, including his wife and mother the night before.



Early August 1966, Robert and his “volunteer” nurse in Austin’s Brackenridge Hospital pose for photo a few days after the UT Tower sniper wounds Robert in his left shoulder. (The nurse once stood alongside the bed with her hand on his leg while he tried, eyes closed, to urinate into a receptacle -- until he noticed and ordered her from the room). Robert stay-ed in the hospital for 15 days, then remained at home for another month before returning to work.





Top left, Charles Whitman marries Kathleen Leissner at St. Michael’s Catholic Church in her hometown, Needville TX, Aug. 17, 1962. Top right, Whitman poses with his and Kathleen’s dog Schocie on a porch (back?) of the small house they rented at 906 Jewell Street in South Austin. Bottom left, Charlotte Darehshori, a secretary in the Graduate Studies Department, found herself in the open on the South Mall outside the Uni-versity of Texas Tower, the administration building, when Whitman, 231 feet higher on the Observation Deck with a 6 mm Remington rifle and a four-power telescopic sight, at 11:47 a.m. (three minutes before 11 a.m. classes would have been dismissed and students would have flooded the campus) selected his first victim, eight-months pregnant Claire Wilson walking to-ward the Tower directly below him. Whitman could have shot Wilson in either eyebrow at that distance but chose to shoot her in the stomach. The bullet went through the baby’s head (all the doctors and nurses at Brac-kenridge Hospital wept when they saw the baby), killing it but not Wilson. Whitman’s second shot killed the unmarried father of the child, Thomas Eckman, walking beside Wilson. Darehshori crouched behind one of two huge flagpole bases below the south side of the Tower and held her position for 90 minutes.

Below right, the upper portion of the 28-story Tower is shown. Each of the clock faces on the top of the Tower is 16 feet wide. One can see the three rain spouts (about three feet tall and six inches wide) on each side that Whit-man used to shoot through after civilians brought deer rifles to campus and fired back at him (this occurred after Whitman at about 12:15 p.m. shot AP reporter Robert Heard in the left shoulder as he ran toward the Tower a block north of it from the northwest corner of the Observation Deck. That northwest corner is the same spot on the Deck where police killed Whitman at 1:20 p.m.).

1966, Aug. 21, Denman Heard, Wyatt and Teddy’s second son, fourth child, is born five weeks after, on July 15, Richard Benjamin Speck, a 25-year-old drifter and ex-con di-vorced by his abused wife in Dallas and wanted in both Texas and Illinois, kills eight nurses in their apartment house in Chicago. In prison Speck takes hormones that make his breasts grow like a woman’s, and he endures, with pleasure he pretends, sodomy by other inmates until Dec. 5, 1991, the day before his 50th birthday, when a heart attack kills him. Seventeen days after Speck butchers the eight nurses, University of Texas stu-dent Charles Whitman on Aug. 1 kills 16 persons and wounds 31 (including AP reporter Robert Heard, Denman’s uncle), in Austin TX, most of them from the UT Tower’s observation deck. Whitman hates his domineering father in Lake Worth FL and, after murdering his wife and mother in the early hours of Aug. 1 to shield them from em-barrassment, hopes to shame his father. As late as the turn of the century three decades later, the father denies he in any way caused his son’s murderous rampage. So the son fails to achieve his goal. Denman is born seven weeks after Robert McNamara an-nounces on June 29 the U.S. fighting force in Vietnam totals 285,000 men. On June 13 the U.S. Supreme Court hands down the “Miranda” decision that requires police to warn an arrested person of his rights to remain silent and to a lawyer if he or she cannot afford one.

1966, Dec. 23, Mary Steigerwald Heard (Sid’s wife) dies at age 52, two weeks before

President Johnson, in his State of the Union speech Jan. 6, asks for tax increases to fund his Great Society programs. Mary’s death is one of the worst memoties of my life. LBJ flew back to his ranch, and t turned out to be my turn to cover him. That meant about $400 in overtime over the weekend. Yet Mary named me in her will to be one of her pallbearers. I’ve always felt badabout choosing the money when Isent my “regrets” that I could not go to the funeral.

1966, Dec. 30, Camille Lea Dunlap (Witte) (Kenneth’s daughter) is born four weeks before

three astronauts, Virgil Grissom, Edward White and Roger Chafee, are killed on Jan. 27, 1963, in an explosion and fire inside their Apollo I capsule on the ground.




Francis Heard Nelson stands at the rear of a pickup truck with her, and my, great-uncle Henry Cummings, a younger brother of Lizzie Cummings Heard and his and his wife Maggie. Henry holds two severed deer heads. Uncle John and Aunt Arvie’s eldest child, Francis, puts her hand on the neck of a dead deer on the tailgate of the truck. Photo taken about 1967 or earlier. Henry died April 17, 1968, at age 75.




Heard Reunion, late June, 1967, at Woodrow and Opal’s house on the Dry Frio about three miles north of Reagan Wells. Bottom row (l-to-r): Emma, Bessie, Mag, Bertha, Arvie. Top row: Woodrow, Sid, Deck, Dow Sr., Dan.




Heard Reunion, late June, 1967, at Woodrow and Opal’s place. Bottom row: Maggie Cummings, Deck Heard, Henry Cummings. Top row: Dan Heard, Clara Heard.



Heard Reunion, late June 1967. Front row: Deck, Woodrow, Dow, Sid. Back row: Dan, Bertha, Bessie, Emma.





Heard Reunion, late June 1967. Mostly grandkids. Dow Jr. and Marrietta (to his right) are at far left. Arvie Heard holds her purse at right. Emma is at far right, with Bobby Gibbens to her right, and Arvie to his right on the front row. On the back row, the top of Jack Nelson’s head is seen to the right of Dow Jr.’s head. Further right by several people is Deck, then Sid, Dow Sr., John Wyatt Gibbens, and his dad Pete Gibbens, and maybe Pete’s son Sydney, then Cecil Dunlap, then my brother John. Lean-ing on his elbow on the table at left is my son Dan, and next to him is my sec-ond son Tom (with his hand to his mouth). I recognize sever-al of the others but will not attempt to identify all. This writer is not in this photograph, but I did not take it.




Heard Reunion, late June 1967. Grandchildren. Botton row: one of Sid’s girls, Ann Nelson, Nell Griffin (now Griffin-Graham), Sydney Dayle. Middle row: two more of Sid’s girls, Dow Jr., another of Sid’s girls (Mary Margaret), Cynthia Nelson, Wendal. Back row: Sydney Gibbens, Wayne Dunlap, (I don’t recognize the next guy), John Wyatt Gibbens, my brother John, and Bobby Gibbens.




Great-Aunt Maggie and Great-Uncle Henry Cummings (Lizzie Heard’s youngest brother) are shown in a photo taken about 1967. A fiddle-player and longtime pipe smoker, Henry died of cancer in agony despite morphine shots in the Kerrville Veterans Hospital a year later, April 17, 1968, at age 75 (he served in the Army in World War I). Maggie died years later in a Uvalde nursing home, in her 90s. The most remarkable thing about Henry and Maggie is that they never had a bathroom, always relieving themselves in the woods outdoors on their 160-acre ranch just over the ridge to the north from the Lick Creek cabins. It always bewildered census-takers when they asked how many bathrooms Henry and Maggie had.




Near the one-year anniversary of being shot by the UT Tower sniper, Robert points from the northwest corner of the Tower’s deck, where the sniper stood when he hit Robert, to where Robert ran across 24th Street a block from the Tower. Son Tom, 6-1/2, clutches tightly from this 28th story height. Dan, 11, is tall enough to see over the wall of the deck. Police killed the sni-per in this same corner a little over an hour after he wounded Robert.






David Douglas Duncan’s haun-ting photo of soldier in Vietnam in 1967 graced the cover of Newsweek magazine.




Houston Chronicle photograph that accompanied a story in the Wednes-day, Sept. 20, 1967, edition of the newspaper, showing Dow H. Heard Sr. and his four sons on the father’s 50th wedding anniversary (actual date of the anniversary occurred three days earlier, Sept. 17). Sons: Robert L., Dow H. Jr., John G, and Wyatt H. Dow Jr. here perhaps gave up on trying to look taller than Robert. But then John, who always stood taller than Wyatt, looks shorter here.



Separate Houston Chronicle photo of “Child-hood Sweetheart” Minerva Gulley Heard on the same occasion, her golden wedding anni-versary. She appeared in the newspaper two or three other times for long-distance swimming feats in her elderly years.This separate shot of her again demonstrates male-dominance, as we saw in the 1917 photos of the Hub heard family.



Also a separate Houston Chronicle photo of the wives of the four Dow and Minerva Heard sons on the same occasion. From left: Mary Lou Custer Heard (Robert), Teddy Moody Heard (Wyatt), Marietta Martin Heard (Dow Jr.), and Joanna McCann Heard (John).




South Vietnamese Col. Nguyen Ngoc Loan, police chief, summarily executes Vietcong “suspect” in Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Photo from p. 518, Vietnam: A History, Stanley Kazrnow, Viking Press, New York, 1983. When you see behavior like this, you should ask yourself what kind of thugs you are allied with.






April 10, 1968, my 38th birthday. This is Tom’s favorite photo of his family. I hold Tom, 7-1/2, as he also wraps his arms around Mary Lou and me. We lived on Timber-line Drive in Rollingwood, west of Austin, and in this pho-to we stand in the driveway. Mary Lou and I divorced about 2-1/2 years later.


Mary Lou, Robert, our son Tom, and my mother atop an angle-iron tower I got a man named Swid Maul in Bee Cave to construct so we could to enjoy the 270-degree view of the horizon from the nose of a ridge we owned about five miles west of Austin in about 1968. My dad, who climbed only halfway up the tower’s ladder, probably took the photo.




Janis Joplin, probably in the late 1960s. Born Jan. 19, 1943, in Port Arthur TX, she graduated from high school in 1960 and attended the University of Texas but did not get a degree. She went to San Francisco in 1963 and return-ed to that city in 1966, where she achieved stardom as a singer while doing a lot of drugs. I put her here because of a story I heard many years ago about her having a blind date at UT with William Bennett, who later became secretary of education under Ronald Reagan, then in later years became a moralist wri-ter, but one, it turned out, with a gambling problem. Wouldn’t you love to have been a fly on the wall during that blind date? Photo from an Arts & Events supple-ment in The Daily Texan, Jan. 26, 2006.




On May 30, 1968, a bugeyed Robert sits one row behind President Lyndon John-son (who on March 31 told the nation he would not seek another term) and Austral-ian Prime Minister John Gordon (where the Secret Service did not want reporters to sit) at the Round Mountain Auction Barn. An SS agent leans over Gordon to tell him of my presence. After I agreed to move, I rose, saying, “I just thought I could learn something about sheep.” Johnson turned, offered his limp hand with thumb not open, and sweetly told me that I did not have to learn about sheep from him. “No,” I said, “I meant from him” (nodding toward a LBJ-rancher friend A.W. Moursand seated to LBJ’s left). I said that to a sitting president. It doesn’t get better than that.



Sept. 1, 1968, outside the Xavier Catholic Church in Stonewall, SS agent Bob Taylor, to Robert’s right, begins to move to place himself between me and LBJ. I did not learn until later that Johnson so disliked me (the only reporter given a code name -- Ass One -- because I enjoyed success in following him when he left the ranch and appeared in public) that he ordered Taylor’s maneuver, which unfolds in the next three photos by AP photographer Steve Stibbens. Taylor’s move pre-vented me from hearing what Johnson said to parishioners. If someone harmed Johnson in public and I wasn’t there, I would and should have been fired. As men-tioned in a cutline for Florence Fenley’s 1939 book, I supported Johnson’s do-mestic program, particularly civil rights, but I came to detest his Vietnam policy. I did not like him personally because of the manner in which he treated his staff. We heard him often on shortwave radio abusing those who worked for him, loudly cursing them in front of others one day, only to give them gifts the next. That boorish, ripsaw behavior ought to offend anybody. I will temper that last remark by noting Bill Moyers made a great career for himself (and championed many of the causes I support) after being willing to take such abuse. If I worked for Johnson (fat chance), I would have walked out the first time he treated me like dirt, and I would never have returned (perhaps that’s a good reason I never worked for him, a Texas Democrat who did a lot of good domestically).

I’ll also note we owe to Bill Moyers a great quote from Johnson relative to politics in the 21st century. Moyers visited Johnson’s bedroom the morning after Johnson signed either the 1964 or 1965 civil-rights bill. Johnson looked depressed and grumpy. Moyers asked him why the sourpuss. Johnson said: “I’ve just handed the South to the Republicans for 50 years.” No one ever said Johnson lacked a brilliant mind regarding politics. That perception turned out to be true. But, here in 2011, we are close to the end of 50 years after 1965. I see the South turning Dem-ocratic again, state by state, perhaps over several years, in this fashion: Inner-city blacks, reproducing faster than suburban Anglos, will combine with liberal Anglos (we’ve always been around, simply outnumbered by, mostly, less-educated conser-vative Anglo oafs), to produce a majority. Already, most large cities in the South have black mayors. One other personal note about LBJ: He would eat off the plate of someone sitting next to him, as we learned from a John Connally in an interview on CNN in its early days (Huey Long also behaved in this crude manner; some gif-ted persons believe they are not bound by ordinary rules of etiquette).





Back to “learning about sheep.” Johnson played at being a cow-boy and a rancher. He didn’t know squat about either. Better than anyone else, Johnson knew about human beings, especially their dark side, their private lusts, for women, for alcohol or for gambling, and how to use those against them. But as for ranching, he showed a blank slate. We joked about it. A famous photo-graph showed him riding a horse, with his arms extended wide, holding the reins separately and high out from his body. Only a klutz would ride a horse like that. Even my father, who grew up on a ranch but wanted to get out of that country as fast as he could, knew more than Johnson. I remember dad once saying a sheep is one of the dumbest animals on the planet. A fully furred (unsheared) sheep would stand on a blazing-hot day with its head under the shade of a tree but its entire body out in the sunshine, he said.





This 1968 photo of me, also taken by Steve Stibbens from one of the two Stonewall Motel rooms rented by the AP, shows “U.S. Air For-ce” beneath the masking tape I have pulled aside on a truck door. Johnson used Air Force personnel, who stayed at the motel, to plant wildflowers on his ranch. He must have thought us dumb as rocks. Why didn’t we report this? The New York office of the AP would have required us to prove through interviews (and photographs) with the airmen that they did that. Maybe learn the blood types of their mothers. Nevermind that we heard via shortwave radio that the airmen did that.









My first major freelance piece, The Ice Cream Colossus of the Canyon Country, appeared in Southern Meth-odist University’s literary journal Southwest Review in the summer of 1968. I wrote Colossus under the penname Sam Honey at age 38. I wanted to become the next Mark Twain and thought I needed a pen-name, as Samuel Langhorne Clemens did in his early 30s in the late 1860s; Clemens used the Mis-sissippi River steam-boat term that means “two fathoms” -- 12 feet -- safe water; of course, Twain, a brilliant, disturbing writer, could be called anything but safe). The “colossus” is my Uncle Sid Heard, Uncle Hub here. My brother “Brandon” is Wyatt, my real brother. Uncle Pike is Uncle Deck, the obsessed worker. Bess is the real name of the mule used to power the baler. “Old man Garner” is Fred Horner, who ran the Horner Hardware Store on the west side of the plaza in downtown Uvalde. Mule Mountain retains its real name, as does Jody the hound. Aunt Sarah is the name I gave to the real-life hostess of the ice-cream party south of Uvalde in the brush country. The Cummings boys, Billy Joe, Wesley and Dow in real life are my cousins John Wyatt, Robert and Sidney Gibbens, sons of my Aunt Mag (one of dad’s younger sisters) and Pete Gibbens. The narrator, me (Sam Honey, the penname I used), lived in Waco, not Houston. The girl in the blue dress with the white trim, with soft auburn hair, is made up, but I do remember a similar girl I saw in the canyon in the old days. AsTwain said in his second sentence in Huckleberry Finn, “That book [Tom Sawyer] was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.” Similarly, Colossus mainly is a true story from about 1947, with the names changed. Here is the 4,000-word Colossus.
























1968, Nov. 5, Shelly Barrett (Bobby Gibbens Jr.’s wife) is born the day before Richard Nixon defeats Hubert Humphrey 31,710,470 votes to 30,898,055 for the presidency. On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King Jr., winner of the 1964 Nobel Peace Prize, is assassinated at age 39 by white racist James Earl Ray in Memphis; New York Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, younger brother of John F. Kennedy, in a speech commiserates with blacks for the loss of their leader two months before he would be assassinated in Los Angeles shortly after midnight on June 5, by Arab Sirhan Sirhan (whose family reportedly witnes-sed the violence that marked the creation of the new state of Israel in 1948), moments after Robert Kennedy knew he had won the California primary for the Democratic nomination for the presidency. On April 17, 1968, Henry Baylor Cummings, grandmother Heard’s youngest brother, who had a 160-acre ranch across the hill north of Lick, dies in agony (despite morphine shots) from cancer in the Kerrville Veterans Hospital at age 72. Born on Jan. 24 is gymnast Mary Lou Retton, who will win an Olympic gold medal.

1968, Dec. 23, Sidney Sterling Heard (Hub and Annell’s son and Sid and Mary’s grandson) is born four days before the return to earth on Dec. 27 of astronauts Frank Borman, James Lovell and William Anders after a six-day orbital flight around the moon.








Neil Armstrong’s first wife, Janet Armstrong, watches the Apollo 11 launch at Cape Canaveral FL on July 16, 1969. Four days later, Neil stepped onto the moon’s surface. Photos from James R. Hansen’s biography of Armstrong, First Man.





Armstrong and Aldrin deploy the U.S. Flag on the moon, July 20, 1969. The 16-millimeter film camera on the Lunar Module (Collins remained on the Columbia Command Module orbiting the moon) captured this picture. Photo from Hansen’s book.



Man first stepped on the moon on July 20, 1969. A few days later, astronauts Edwin E. “Buzz” Aldrin Jr. (left), Michael Collins and Neil Armstrong examined a two-pound moon rock (inside the glass cylinder) they brought back. Armstrong first stepped on the lunar surface, saying, “That’s one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind.” Aldrin also walked on the moon, but not Collins. I learned from the History Chan-nel on Oct. 19, 2005, that an unmanned Soviet spaceship also orbited the moon that day in 1969 on a mis-sion to retrieve moon material and return to earth, but the Russian ship crashed into the moon surface (the Soviets always denied they raced America to the moon, but they clearly did, losing the race because they used solid fuel for their rockets instead of the more volatile but also more powerful liquid fuel. The crash of the unmanned Soviet ship into the moon surface on the same day America landed men there showed that America far outstripped the Soviet Union in the space race. Indeed, to this day the Russians have not sent a man-ned mission beyond the gravitational field of the earth. Photo from p. 150 of the Associated Press 1969 book in its 15-year series on History as We Lived It, 1964-1978. That book also spoke of the Soviet ship orbiting the moon the day Apollo 11 landed, but I didn’t know that book referred to the Soviet ship until I read it in October 2005.




L-to-r: astronauts Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong and Edwin E. “Buzz” Aldrin Jr. in 1999 celebrate the 30th anniversary of their flight to the moon. The celebrity of being the first man to walk on the moon carried with it some baggage, too. Flat-world-ers come out of the wood-work blazing mad in their obsession to force the achievers of remarkable things to admit the government faked the whole thing. These bothered Armstrong only marginally. He knew NASA employed no fakery. The part that really bothered him dealt with his feeling of unworthiness for all the ac-claim. He was not first in his class (he posted a 4.0 GPA on a 6.0 scale at Purdue University), nor the best as-tronaut (who knew, really, the identity of that person?), Armstrong felt he merely got lucky to be in the Pipeline at the exact right moment to become the man chosen to be first on the moon. But flat-worlders (there actually is a Flat-World So-ciety) managed to get in the face of “Buzz” Aldrin. A large, fundamentalist man with Bible in hand, an amateur filmmaker unidentified (and that’s OK; he doesn’t deserve to be remembered) in Henson’s book, confronted Aldrin outside a Beverly Hills hotel where Aldrin thought a Japanese educational network would interview him. Appa-rently, the man wanted Aldrin, as the man earlier de-manded of Armstrong, to swear on the Bible he walked on the Moon. “You are a coward and a liar,” the man shouted as he chased Aldrin, while still directing a cameraman to keep shooting. Fin-ally, the 72-year-old, 160-pound Aldrin “decked the thirty-seven-year-old 250-pounder with a left to the jaw (p. 637, First Man). (This writer can hear the reader applaud.) Photo from Hansen’s book.


In addition to their nutty view of the world, fundamentalists drew part of their inspiration from a mediocre Hollywood film in 1997, Capricorn One, which suggested NASA attempted to cover for a defective space-craft in the fictional story of a mission to Mars by forcing astronauts before cameras in a desert film studio to act out the journey and trick the world into believing they made the trip. 1994, Neil Armstrong and his first wife Janet Shareon Armstrong divorced in 1994. Janet initiated the di-vorce, on grounds of irreconcible differences, which ended 38 years of marriage (p. 166, First Man). Soon afterward, he married his second wife, Carol Knight. The break-up of the first marriage shows divorce is not an inevitable respecter of cultural pressure. One would think a woman married to the first man to walk on the moon, a quiet man by all accounts, would swim a lake of fire before allowing him to get away. But this reminds me of a great line by Michael Douglas to Annette Benning in The American President (one of my favorite movies). He tells her the wives of past presi-dents encountered no difficulty having sex with their husbands, and then asked if she knew why. No, she said, but, with a scrunched-up face, she said she expected him to explain it to her. “Because when they got married, he wasn’t president,” he said.


Obviously, Neil and Janet married some time before he walked on the moon. Hansen’s 2005 biography of Neil, First Man, quotes Neil’s brother, Dean Armstrong, as say-ing Janet is as strong as horseradish, a dynamic and self-confident person . . . she looks you in the eye. Her body language is dramatic -- the way she crosses her arms to say, ‘What do you mean by that?’” “Maybe opposites attract.” Asked if Janet was outgoing and talkative, astronaut Gene Cernan responded, “[V]ery much so . . . Neil and Jan must have found something in common . . . Maybe they mutually filled voids . . . Jan was a classy gal and I could see her being attracted to class—being attracted to someone who was not trying to impress her. You know, ‘Sure, baby, I fly jets.’ ‘I just got back from Korea’ thing. She probably had to drag that out of him. Neil was the same Neil. He’s never changed since I’ve known him” (both quotes from p. 126 of Hansen’s 2005 biography of Armstrong, First Man). Born on March 23, 1934, Janet was 3-1/2 years younger than Neil. She is quoted on the next page of First Man, 127, as saying, “My philosophy was, ‘Well, I have years to get to know him.’ I thought he was a very steadfast person. He was good looking. He had a good sense of humor. He was fun to be with. He was older. He had a better sense of maturity than a lot of boys I dated, and I had dated a lot of boys on [the Purdue University] campus.”


[I]n the process” of separation with Janet, Neil suffered a heart attack on a ski slope in Colorado in February 1991. Other stresses probably contributed to the attack. His father Stephen died a year earlier, Feb. 3, 1990. Neil’s brother Dean and his wife recently divorced. At lunch before the attack, Neil ate a big bowl of chili with plenty of onions (pp. 639-640, First Man). On Oct. 27, 2005, Simon & Shuster, Inc., sent around an email (including to me) about the “first, full” biography of Neil Armstrong, First Man, by James R. Hansen, based on interviews of 150 persons, including 50 hours with Armstrong himself. Among the items revealed in the email: Armstrong flew 78 combat missions as a naval aviator over North Korea and piloted Gemini VIII to the first-ever docking in space. The email also carried this wonderful quote: With 10 minutes left on the clock [before launch at Cape Canaveral FL on July 16, 1963], the thoughtful Eric Sevareid said on-air to CBS’s Walter Cronkite:


There’s not a carnival atmosphere here, really. You’ve got the snack shops and all the rest, all the trailers, but there is a quiet atmosphere, and when the van carrying the astronauts themselves went by on this roadway just now, there was a kind of hush among the people. Those things move very slowly as though they’re carrying nitroglycerine or something. You get a feeling that people think of these men as not just superior men but different creatures. They are like people who have gone into the other world and have returned, and you sense they bear secrets that we will never entirely know, and that they will never entirely be able to explain.


Ah, Sevareid, now there was a word-merchant. Also revealed is that President Nixon planned to have dinner the night before with the astronauts, but their physician nixed the idea on the ground Nixon might harbor the germs of a cold. Actually, a better reason would have been that Nixon did not deserve that honor. The president who did, John Kennedy, died from an assassin’s bullet on Nov. 22, 1963.


Also in the email was this: Six months earlier, Viola Armstrong [who had only a black-and-white TV until given a color set on which to watch her son] had been sitting at her kitchen table placing pictures -- most of them of Neil -- in photo albums when she heard the news on TV that Neil would command Apollo 11: “A flood of tears gushed from my eyes. There was tumult within me. I sobbed in anguish. Soon I was on my knees in prayer.” Over the years since she had given her life to Jesus Christ as a young teenager, she had uttered many fervent prayers, “but never was there a prayer like this one. I had actually heard the announcement with my own ears that our son had been chosen to be on the coming Moon landing team!” The New Yorker edition Oct. 3, 2005, reported, “Viola Armstrong, the astronaut’s mother, died in May, 1990, having just told her daughter, suddenly, “I am not sure there really is a God. But I am very happy that I believed.”


1969, Oct. 11, Amy Diane Heard, Dan Howell and Felda’s first daughter, second child, is born 7-1/2 weeks after American astronaut Neil Armstrong becomes the first man to set foot on the moon on July 20. Only six days after Apollo 11 commander Armstrong, also commander of the Luner Lander “Eagle,” announced the successful touchdown of the Eagle, on July 26, would be the 106th anniversary of the death of Sam Houston in Hunts-ville TX. Houston, never shy, would have been pleased that the first word heard from the moon was his name: “Houston, the Eagle has landed.” Amy Diane is born 18 days before the US. Supreme Court orders on Oct. 29 the elimination of “dual systems” in every school district; this opinion replaces the vague ruling on May 31, 1955, that integra-tion should be accomplished with “all deliberate speed.” The new decision is a setback for President Nixon’s administration, which sought to delay for several months the desegre-gation of 33 school districts in Mississippi.

1969, Oct. 21, Heather Lee Heard (Dow III and Francie’s daughter) is born 15 days after actor Matthew McConaughey is born in Texas. Heather is born 25 days before 250,000 people gather in Washington DC Nov. 15 in the largest antiwar rally in U.S. history.

1969, Dec. 7, Wendal Allen Heard and Sharyn Lee Rankin marry one day after the University of Texas wins its second football national championship (first:1963) by beating Arkansas 15-14 in “The Big Shootout” (Darrell Royal’s phrase) on a cold day in Fayetteville, Arkansas. UT would go on to beat Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl 21-17, but it already had the title, decided in those days at the end of the regular season (that changed the next season for all polls except UPI, which changed in 1971). For the first time in 45 years, the Irish agree to play a bowl game (since the “Four Horsemen” of 1924 went to the Rose Bowl Jan. 1, 1925, and beat Stanford and Ernie Nevers 27-10). Versus ND, Texas scored on two long drives in the second half totaling 35 plays, only two of which were passes. Wendal and Sharyn marry two weeks after Lt. William L. Calley is charged with premeditated murder in the massacre of hundreds of Vietnamese civilians in the hamlet of My Lai on March 16, 1968. Calley is convicted and sentenced to life in prison, but President Nixon later pardons him.

1969, Dec. 8, Dow Hubbard Heard Sr. dies of cancer at age 73 in Houston Dec. 8, the

310th anniversary of the founding of the Mission Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe de El Paso, and two days after UT won its second national footballchampionship.




Associated Press reporters Lee Jones, Robert Heard and Jack Keever picket outside the Texas Capitol Press Room during the news service employees’ strike for a week beginning Dec. 9, 1969. Some conservative reporters for newspapers challenged their right to picket inside the Capitol but learned we held the right by law to do that. Both the Wire Service Guild and management claimed victory after the two sides reached agreement. Robert served as president of the Newspaper Guild at the Long Beach Independent, Press Telegram in California in the early 1960s. The strike began the day after Robert’s son Tom broke his elbow in a nasty fall from the top of a bunk bed. Photo probably by AP photographer Ted Powers.

1969, Dec. 19, Kevin Anthony Farrell (Eldon and Kahlan Ann’s child) is born 11 days before President Nixon signs on Dec. 30 the most far-reaching tax reform bill in the nation’s history.


Lt. Gov. Ben Barnes and I talk in the Capitol in late December 1969 or early January 1970. Barnes earlier served as Speaker of he House. Together with many others, we watched Elvin Hayes and the Houston Cougars snap Lew Alcinder and UCLA’s record win string at something like 89. The Bru-ins later got revenge in the NCAA playoffs. Also later, Alcinder became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (leading me to wonder in 2005 how those blacks feel now about changing their names to Muslim monikers in the aftermath of Sept. 11, 2001, including Muhammad Ali (nee Cassius Clay). Reporters called the sandy-haired Barnes Golden Rod for his rumored dalliances.



1970, May 4, four students at Ohio’s Kent State University protesting the Vietnam War are killed by National Guard troops. Mary Vecchio cries over the body of one the students, Jeffery Miller, who had just been killed. Another Kent State student, John Filo, took her photo with Miller. Filo won the Pulitzer Prize. Other students killed: Alison Krause, Sandra Scheuer and William Schroeder.

1970, May 30, Lillian Estela Skillern (Mary Margaret’s daughter and Sid and Mary’s grandchild) is born 26 days after students at Kent State in northeast Ohio demonstrate on May 4 against the expansion of the Vietnam War into Cambodia, and National Guard troops kill four of them and wound nine others. Lillian is born two and a half weeks before President Nixon signs into law a bill allowing 18yearolds to vote. Also in 1970, and most Democrats tend to for-get this, Nixon signed legislation creating the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Occupational Safety and Health Act (OSHA). The first NFL Monday Night Football game on ABC is played on Sept. 21. Cleveland Browns 31, New York Jets 21.




Heard Family Reunion, 1970, in the Lady Bird State Park, 3.5 miles southwest of Fred-ericksburg on Texas 16, the only time we held it there. Minerva, sits on the wall. Closest to the camera is Woodrow, then Lawrence Lang-worthy, then Deck. We also held the reunion one year, 1972, in Bastrop State Park, 32 miles southeast of Austin, but never held it there again.


Dan Heard (right), 14, as the Artful Dodger in the Zilker Hillside Theater pro-duction of Oliver! in August 1970. Mike Stevens (left) played the title role. Photo by Austin American-Statesman photographer Holly Stewart ran in the Aug. 16, 1970, edition of the paper.

1970, this is approximately the year when Robert began to write major free-lance articles for Dave Campbell’s annual Texas Football magazine, the bible of the sport in Texas, which Campbell began publishing in 1960. Heard wrote 10 such pieces for the magazine, his favorite being one of an interview with Earl Campbell’s mother in Tyler, which interview Texas coach Darrell Royal suggested, “Someone should go interview Ann Campbell.” Robert found her story as impressive as Royal did. After losing her husband a decade earlier, she told her 10 children she would try to keep the family together in their less-than-modest frame house (the electricity meter stuck out from the front of the wooden structure above the front porch; Robert took a photo of that, but, alas, the magazine did not use it), that she would do all she could do except put up bail if they got arrested. Cultivating two acres of Tyler Roses, she managed to do as she promised, and none of her kids got arrested. She surprised Robert by saying she two older sons than Earl who were better foot-ball players (in deep East Texas, those brothers never got a chance to play against top white teams, so they never got offered scholarships). Royal asked Earl to be frank with him and say if he had his hand out during recruiting, which would save Royal time, because Royal did not and would not cheat, no matter how good the player (the reader can guess who would cheat to get Earl: the coach’s first name was Barry). Earl said, “My people were bought and sold a hundred years ago. Nobody is going to buy Earl Campbell.” As a freshman at Texas, Campbell had one pair of pants, blue jeans, and not enough money in his pocket to buy a Coke for a girl. He promised his mom he would build her a nice home after he became a professsional player, and he did. Rob-ert visited Ann Campbell again around 1980 and found her in a spacious brick home that cost about $80,000 (about two hundred thousand dollars in 2005).

1971, Sept. 1, I visited the office of District Attorney Robert O. “Bob” Smith in the Travis County Courthouse, three blocks from the Capitol, and, using skills of reading type upside down acquired from late-editing work in the backshop of the Long Beach paper, I read on his desk, after he left his office briefly, indict-ment papers on House Speaker Gus Mutscher. I told him what I saw. He said I could write the story but not name him. The next day I broke the story that such papers existed (only after several calls from the New York AP office checking for potential lawsuits). The Headliners Club later gave me an award for the story. Mutscher got a change of venue, but the trial judge sent the case to Abilene, Texas, more than 200 miles northwest of Austin. The rule of thumb in venue cases held that juries north of Austin more likely would convict on any crime, perhaps especially public officials accused of wrongdoing. Juries to the south of Austin (except for German New Braunfels or -- west of Austin -- Fredericksburg), where more Catholics live and likely would acquit. (An excep-tion in 2005 might find defendant-friendly juries almost anywhere in Texas outside of Austin if the defendant is a notable Republican, like Tom DeLay.) This knowledge in 1971 meant the trial judge in Austin held tremendous power in his selection of a trial site.


Mutscher’s attorneys put me on the witness stand in pretrial proceedings in Abilene in March 1972 to learn the my source for my story. I continued to decline to reveal my source, asserting my right to refuse under the First Amend-ment (it turned out later that I didn’t have that right, according to a decision in another case by the U.S. Supreme Court.) I thought I stood a good chance of going to jail on the judge’s finding me in contempt, but I still refused to divulge my source. I remember Smith standing only feet away watching me squirm as I gauged each question on whether I could refuse to answer it. I had covered other trials involving Smith. We knew each other well (he framed and put on his office wall a story I wrote about one of his trials in which I mentioned a Dr. Pepper clock on the courtroom wall, which I noted had no business being in a courtroom). Smith held in abundance the one trait every good prosecutor must have -- indignation. Other newsmen expressed unhappiness with me after I left the Abilene courtroom that day, thinking I might cost the state a chance to convict the corrupt (in their eyes), Mutscher, which all of them wanted to see happen; me, too. It turned out Smith merely wanted to see me tested. He disclosed to the trial court that a paper on his desk had been my source. No doubt he wanted to avoid the possibility of a likely conviction of Mutscher would be overturned on appeal.


Dist. Judge J. Neil Daniel, the trial judge, told me with a slight smile at lunch on March 13, “You’ve given me a name I’ll never live down.” This referred to a story including a profile on him in which I said he looked like the Grinch. Later, in a conference before the bench with lawyers after the state rested its case (I learned later), he said, “I’m the Grinch,” prompting laughter we did not understand at the time. Female artist named Glenn Esme (accent over the “m” in my journal) Glenn told me, “You are a portrait artist with words.” The jury returned a guilty verdict on Mutscher on March 15., the same day the judge got mad at me for breaking a glass in the pressroom door (in a rush to telephone the verdict?), which I did not do. A Houston TV station reporter named David Glotd did it. The judge did not apologize after he learned the truth.


Mutscher and two others, Mutscher aide Rush McGinty and Rep. Tommy Shannon of Fort Worth, got convicted on charges of conspiracy to accept a bribe from Frank W. Sharp, who wanted legislation in which Texas would guarantee deposits in Sharp’s Sharpstown Bank outside Houston. Mutscher drew a sentence of five years’ probation sentence and, of course, lost his seat in the Legislature.


A sidelight of the Mutscher trial: I ran into an old Greer House guy named Mike Lee, then a lawyer in Abilene. I told Lee that a liberal female Texas House member from Corpus Christi, Sissy Farenthold, not Lt. Gov. Ben Barnes, likely would make the runoff against Dolph Briscoe in the Demo-cratic primary for the gubernatorial nomination (the Democratic primary then decided elections, because Republicans lacked strength until nearly all con-servative Democrats years later became Republicans (search for John Con-nally). Lee wanted to bet against that idea, believing himself more knowledgeable about Texas politics. He couldn’t put two and two together from the trial that occurred in his own town, Abilene. I knew he normally would have been right but that the Sharpstown Scandal changed all the normal rules. Lee offered me 5-to-1 odds that Barnes would make the runoff. I knew my idea was no lock: for one thing, no evidence linked Barnes to Sharpstown, but he presided over the Senate when Sharp’s legislation cleared that chamber. For another, the only woman to run successfully for governor of Texas at that point had been Marian “Ma” Ferguson four decades earlier, and the only reason “Ma” succeeded is because her husband, James E. “Pa” Ferguson got impeached and convicted (on charges stemming with a fight between the Uni-versity of Texas and him over funding), and he couldn’t run again, but everyone who voted for her really voted for “Pa.” However, if I was going to bet on the 1970 race, I would make it worthwhile. “My $100 to your $500,” I said. He accepted. Then I made a condition. Each of us would give our money to a third party to hold the stakes. Lee tried to shame me out of that idea, but I knew of an instance where he welched on a bet, so I insisted. He finally agreed. Sissy beat Barnes, then lost to Briscoe in the runoff. So I won the bet, plus similar bets for less money.


Another sidelight. I told Molly Ivins at the trial I planned to write a book. “Good,” she said. “I’d like to know how your life blew up in your face.” Not that kind of book, I said. I planned, and four years later published, a quote book on Darrell Royal, Dance With Who Brung You: Quips & Quotes from Darrell Royal, published by Jenkins Co. in Austin. I remember being told by the head of a state agency (can’t remember his name, but I think the agency dealt with air pollution) after that book came out, with him in a hospital, it inspired him to redouble his efforts at rehabilitation. I also remember in later years, after Royal served briefly as “color man” on some TV broadcasts of college football games, that Royal told me of a game involving Big 10 teams where he learned an assistant coach in the Big 10 got hold of my book and discovered that Iowa coach Hayden Fry, formerly coach at SMU in the Southwest Conference, regularly used quotes from that book as his own. Big 10 coaches established a sort of network where they would call each other after a Fry theft and announce it could be found on page such and such in my book. I remember watching a game Royal worked in which a team with red as its prominent color, played particularly well on defense. It looked like, Royal said. Someone “stomped on a bed of red ants.”


Many years later, in the 21st century, I did write the book Molly hoped for, The Church War, which begins with my father’s biography and segues into my own. Turned out, no one who read an early versions of that book liked it, except me. Too much “I” in it, I think. So I plan to turn it into a roman a clef [ro-MON ah clay]. Anyway, in the fall of 2003 I shared a table with my cousin George Nelson at the Texas Book Festival in a tent southwest of the Texas Capitol (he paid for the table). I read that Molly would be part of a group speaking to a large audience in the House of Representatives chamber that afternoon. I decided I would go over there and give one of the 19 hard copies of The Church War to her, because she’s in it. By the time I got there, the program started coming to a close, and people filed out the main door to the chamber. Twice, I got stopped at the door trying to get inside. Each time I bluffed and said Molly expected me. Molly and I had not seen each other for years. She had no idea I sought her out. I had read she suffered from breast cancer. When I finally got down to the front of the chamber, I pulled her to one side and explained my mission. Each of us experienced difficulty recognizing each other. I looked, and was, many years older. So was she, plus she looked terrible from the ravages of the treatment of her cancer. [As I write this in late 2005, I hear she’s doing better] I gave her a copy of the book. A year or so later, George and I attended a fundraiser for the Texas Civil Liberties Union, I think, at Scholz Garten, where Molly spoke. George asked to be introduced to her, and he gave her an autographed copy of his great book on the Alamo, which I explained to her took him 25 years and the mastering of ancient Span-ish so he could examine original documents (I added that a photo book on the Alamo with the same title, An Illustrated History of the Alamo, published by Taylor Publishing Co. in Dallas, isn’t worth crap; besides, George’s book is about the history of the ground where the Alamo sits, not merely about the battle).



A woman 15 years my junior with whom I indulged in an affair, 1970-1971. Without my knowledge (I could have lived with that), she went to New York City to abort our child (or perhaps her live-in boy friend’s, or someone else’s; likely she didn’t know whose) between Christmas 1971 and New Year’s Day 1972. Photo given to me by her at a time she lusted to continue playing with me sex-ually. Brainy, loving sex, and great at sex, she lacked character. I will not give her the honor of mentioning her name. She treated me (and all men) the way most men have treated women for millennia -- as sex objects. Probably still does. She finally left Austin and taught “writing” at a university on the West Coast. What she really taught, no doubt, turned out to be sex. In January 2006, she returned to Austin and worked for the American-Statesman. This photo flatters her a bit, as the two studio shots of me in 1949 do me.


1971, Sept. 11, Raymond Sterling Skillern (Mary Margaret’s son and Sid and Mary’s grandchild) is born three days after the $70 million Kennedy Center opens in Washington D.C., and two days before 1,000 state troopers storm Attica state prison in New York, ending a four-day prison revolt (43 people die, including 31 prisoners and nine hostages). Born on Aug. 12 is Pete Sampras, who will win a record 13 Grand Slam tennis championships with his victory at Wimbledon, England, in 2000, but he has not won on the red clay of the French Open. Actress Minnie Driver is born on Jan. 31. All Things Considered debuts on May 3 on National Public Radio. Literate people -- those who appreciate music, art, occasional poetry, sophisticated humor, sad stories or those that exhilarate, in-depth probes of controversial subjects such as abortion and the death penalty, and features requiring and receiving several minutes instead of 10- or 30-second sound bites -- quickly become addicted to the Bob Edwards-hosted, late-afternoon show. A companion program for early in the day, Morning Edition, is added a decade later. Both shows depend largely on public donations (through several days of on-air celebrity-begging) and also must defend themselves every year in Congress against conservative charges they are too “liberal” (meaning educated and not favored by tobacco-chewers who throw empty beer cans out side windows of pickup trucks whose back windows feature rifles) and should no longer receive any tax support. This despite being on the nation’s only public radio system, and despite the programs’ extra efforts to allow mossback rubes (usually public officeholders) to rail on the air. Opponents tend to worship money and favor commercial radio stations precisely because they can be controlled through businesses that buy radio commercials. On June 28, Ohio adopts the 26th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, becoming the 38th state to do so, which makes it valid, giving the vote to 18-year-olds. Actor Noah Wyle (Dr. John Carter on ER) is born on June 4.

1971, Dec. 3, John G Heard Jr. and Sheri Dunaway marry a month before President Nixon

approves on Jan. 5, 1972, NASA’s project to develop the space shuttle, a reusable spacecraft fired into space on a rocket but landing like an airplane.


Dustjacket cover of Molly’s first book, a collection of her funny, needling columns, Random House, New York, 1991, 286 pages. We dated briefly in 1972, when, as I recollect, she looked much as she does here. She took me to an afternoon party at the J. Frank Dobie Ranch, Paisano, nearly 300 acres several miles southwest of Austin, on May 8, 1972, when Gary “Jap” Cartwright held the Dobie fellowship there for six months (he goofed off and didn’t do anything in that period; I vainly applied for the fellowship several times; now I’m glad I never got it; whatever I’ve accomplished in writing, I did on my own). At some point in this period, Molly told me I was the only reporter in the press corps who kept his anger. Molly also cooked flank steak for me once. I didn’t detect chemistry between us, and that was that. Men can be rather stupid about these things, particularly around smart women. Not by choice, Molly ended up never marrying. I think she came to recognize her great talent for writing would have to substitute for missed marital “bliss.” In recent years she fought breast cancer. To me, she appeared to be a fine-looking woman with a ton of talent. But I never thought of her in a sexual way. Too bad. Mary Lou told some friend I never remained the same after the sniper incident. My story is that she never enjoyed the sexual part of our relationship.


Sarah Weddington



Sarah Weddington, who doesn’t look like a devil, but to hear fundamentalist Christians talk about her, it is clear to them she at least conspires with evil. At age 27 in 1972, she makes her first court appear-ance before the U.S. Supreme Court to argue for a wo-man’s “right of privacy” in deciding early in a pregnancy whether to carry to term or get an abortion. The cocksure Christians think the instant a sperma-tozoa penetrates an egg, a human being with an “immortal soul” is cre-ated. These smug persons, almost always Republicans, decry govern-ment “meddling” in people’s lives, except in the bedroom. Weddington relies heavily on 1965’s Griswold v. Connecticut (see 1965 and the first paragraph below). She notes in an Oct. 11, 2005, interview prin-ted in The Daily Texan that there existed no public restrooms for wo-men at the high court in 1972, and none existed there as recently as a decade before the interview. Like Molly Ivins (see 1971), except Weddington once married, Sarah learns it is hard for a really smart, strong-willed woman to make a marriage succeed even with a man less biased against women than the average guy. Weddington also learns she can make more money traveling the country giving lectures than in practicing law. Photo from the inside back dustjacket flap of Wed-dington’s A Question of Choice, Grosset-Putnam, New York, 1992, 306 pages.




William O. Douglas

U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice William O. Douglas, 1898-1980, wrote the majority opinion in 1965’s Griswold v. Connecticut, which held there is a “right to privacy” found in five of the 10 Bill of Rights. On Jan. 23, 1973, the U.S. Supreme Court in Roe v. Wade ruled unconstitutional all state laws banning voluntary abortions in the first trimester (first three months of a pregnancy). Over later years, many “Right To Lifers” campaigned for the reversal of Roe, most claiming they would win the fight in the end in the same fashion anti-slavery forces won their battle in the 19th century. One flaw in that scenario: The modern “slaves” are the women previously prohibited by law from con-trolling their own bodies, from obtaining an abortion even though their lives would be ruin-ed without one (pregnant females who might lose their lives if they carried to term, unmar-ried, young teenage girls, women whose fetus would be born without a brain or with Down’s syndrome -- Mongolism -- or other severe maladies, women already with too many kids to feed, not to mention educate, women who might die in delivery, etc.) Roe is made possible by the high court’s 7-2 decision in 1965 in Griswold v. Connecticut, which outlawed state restrictions on contraceptives by recognizing in the Bill of Rights a “right to privacy” found or implied in the “penumbras” (borderline areas) in five of the Bill of Rights (First, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Ninth amendments). Justice Douglas wrote the majority opinion in Griswold. He described penumbras as those overarching-but-unstated “clouds” that “formed emanations from those guarantees that help give them life and substance.” If there is no right of privacy, (or as the great justice Louis Brandeis, 1865-1941, once said, “The right to be left alone”) those amendments are meaningless. Free advice for those who don’t like abortions and don’t support a woman’s right to choose an abortion: Don’t have one.


But here’s a prediction, part of which I hate to make. It seems clear to me as I write this in early January 2006 that Judge Samuel Alito will be confirmed by the Senate as Sandra Day O’Connor’s successor, and that he will be part of a new majority on the U.S. Supreme Court that will attack Roe v. Wade incrementally. At some point, commenta-tors on the right will declare victory over Roe. All the religious fundamentalists will fall on their knees and praise God. The reversal or partial reversal may last a few years, the way Prohibition did. Then Roe, with different parameters, perhaps, will be reinstated.



1972, May 27, me on a bus en route to a canoe trip down Mariscal Canyon in the Big

Bend National Park. UPI bureau chief Kyle Thompson wears a billed cap two rows behind me. Thompson numbered among “The Lost Battalion” of nearly 1,000 American soldiers, sailors and Marines who built the “Death Railway” in Burmese jungles in World War II (a similar prisoner-of-war experience is shown in the 1957 movie The Bridge on the River Kwai, starring Alec Guinness, who won the best-actor Oscar). I don’t remember who took the photo.



Richard West, who, a year later in 1973, became an editor of the new magazine Texas Monthly, paddles in the front of the canoe where I tended the rear in a narrow gap of the Rio Grande River’s swift current in the Mariscal Canyon (where the Rio Grande River makes its bend at the southern-most point of West Texas, with walls that towered more than 1,200 feet overhead), on May 30, 1972.






From the Associated Press’ 1972 book, The World in 1972: History as We Lived It, in its series from1964 to 1977. Cutline: “Nine-year-old girl ran down road near Trang Bang after ripping off her clothes set afire during a misplaced napalm strike by an allied plane.” The United States flew almost all the “allied” plane in Vietnam.


1972, June 13, I finished and mailed a copy of my story about the Chicken Ranch

whorehouse in La Grange TX to Dallas AP bureau chief Jim Mangan, who, if brains were gunpowder, did not have enough to blow a gnat out of his navel. Two weeks after sitting on the Chicken Ranch story, Mangan asked me to check a rumor he got from the publisher of the Del Rio newspaper that the Chicken Ranch had closed. I called Edna Wilson, the madam. “Are you open?” I asked. “Not until 1 p.m.,” she said. Mangan obviously queried publishers around the state on his travels whether they would be offended if the AP ran a story on the Chicken Ranch. Mangan didn’t have enough guts to fry a fly.


Garth Jones, AP correspondent in the Austin office, a meek man of few writing skills, ate lunches at the Headliners’ Club on the top floor of the Westgate Building across the street from the Capitol to the southwest. We could always tell when he drank three martinis. On July 8, 1972, he blew up about a memo from Dallas AP state editor Robert Ford about a bulletin I filed in May about the state purchase of Mustang Island and of the McFaddin Ranch. The bulletin did not constitute a complete story, Ford said, and all “late-breaking” stories must be complete or we would lose the play to UPI. That’s not the way I understood the purpose of bulletins, nor do I understand it to be that today. A bulletin calls attention to a major story that occurred now, and followup stories would come moments later. Fellow AP reporter Jack Keever (who died of cancer in July 2004) said, out of Garth’s hearing, “No one will ever know what a poor administrator Garth is.” I wrote in my journal, “I’m not so sure.” This cutline helps preserve Jack’s opinion. I also noted in my journal that no UPI reporter attended the news conference at which the purchases were announced.


On July 13, a month after I mailed my story to Dallas, assistant bureau chief Jim Baker (no more sense than Mangan) said he wanted a roundup on prostitution in Texas to accompany my story on the Chicken Ranch. This, after Baker told me on June 7, a week before I mailed the Chicken Ranch story to Dallas (I said my forthcoming story would be the most-interesting article of my career and it would run about 4,000 words), that we needed to limit all stories to “two takes” (800 words) because UPI was winning play with shorter stories. Now, on July 13, he wanted even more words in the form of an accom-panying roundup story (to cover the AP’s ass, so it would not appear to concentrate only on one whorehouse -- which dated back generations and no doubt could claim to be the oldest in the state).


On Aug. 2, I wrote a 1,900-word roundup on prostitution in Texas. I learned on Aug. 6 that Baker butchered my Chicken Ranch story, mainly an exclusive interview with madam Edna Wilson. Sunday, Aug. 20, 1972, two months and a week after I mailed the story to Dallas, my Chicken Ranch tale appeared (in butchered form) only in the Houston Post, which also ran my roundup under the heading, News Services, as if it couldn’t stand to credit the AP with both. The Houston Chronicle, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, the San Antonio News-Express, and the Post ran the roundup. I could not find either the main story or the roundup in any other major newspaper in Texas. The Dallas Morning News, the Austin American-Statesman and the San Antonio Light found room for other long stories, such as an article about gun-running in the Philippines. Later, I learned that the Abilene Reporter-News ran both stories and the Texarkana Gazette ran the roundup. Neither the Corpus Christi Caller-News (we could almost always count on it to run our stories) nor the Victoria Advocate ran either story. I learned a couple of days later that Statesman editor Sam Wood (a racist thankfully dead years ago; he once said no black man would ever become a member of Austin’s Headliners’ Club) killed my whorehouse story after it already got sent to the backshop to be set in type. He remarked that it “is not a Sunday story,” displaying his own religious bias. Apparently, it didn’t qualify for a later weekday edition, either. I wonder how many times Sam visited the Chicken Ranch.


There are many examples of stupidity by AP management in my journal. This one jumped out at me as I looked for something else (Molly and me) on Oct. 21, 2005.


What resulted from my work? Gov. Dolph Briscoe sometime later ordered the Chicken Ranch closed down. (Edna Wilson must have known that would happen; I remember she played “kneesies” with me as I interviewed her in the parlor.) A Baylor lawyer and one of the best trial advocates in the state named Warren Burnett, whom I knew slightly, con-tacted his Texas writer friend Larry King (not the TV guy) in Washington or New York and told him he needed to check out a story (mine). King later wrote The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, which played on Broadway and elsewhere and got made into a popular movie, with Dolly Parton as the madame. King made a ton of money, enough to set him up for life, which I never begrudged him, because he used only the bare bones of my story for his fictional treatment. I never possessed any talent for fiction.


I should mention I called on Burnett years later to ask him to help Madalyn Murray O’Hair in a legal problem of some importance. Madalyn, her son Jon and her daughter Robin (actually granddaughter whom she adopted as her daughter) on two or three occasions asked me to lunch to pick my brains abut a publicrelations problem. This time, they required the services of a good lawyer. Burnett agreed to help, noting that he needed to “tithe to my church,” implying, despite his schooling at Baylor, that atheism was his church.


Robert, Dan and Tom at the Heard Reunion on June 24, 1972, in Bastrop State Park, the only time the family held it there.


1972, Aug. 22, John Henry Skillern (Mary Margaret’s son and Sid and Mary’s grand-child) is born the day before 1,129 antiwar protesters picketing outside the Repub-lican National Convention (NixonSpiro Agnew) in Miami Beach are arrested on the charge of trying to prevent delegates from entering the hall. On Sept. 28, actress Gwyneth Paltrow, daughter of actress Blythe Danner, is born in Los Angeles. She will win an Oscar for 1998’s Shakespeare in Love, which surprisingly beats out Saving Private Ryan, which hits movie theaters almost a year earlier, a costly disadvantage in an Oscar race (Steven Spielberg, who directs Ryan, wins as best director, which he also won for 1993’s Schindler’s List).




William Broyles, the first (and by far the best) editor of Texas Monthly magazine (first edition: February 1973) told me at lunch in the Alamo Hotel restaurant on Nov. 2, 1972, my AP stories were the only AP articles he read. Mike Levy, out of Pennsylvania, who bankrolled the magazine with the help of $250,000 from his parents, made his best decision when he hired the 27-year-old Broyles. After a shakedown cruise of about two years, the Monthly became an outstanding publication for about a year and a half, taking on the big banks and the big law firms, among others, in Texas. It justifiably won many awards, then began drawing big-money for slick ads from outfits like Neiman-Marcus and deteriorated from than moment into a piece of crap (which it still is in 2011). It once ran a story about lacrosse being one of the big sports in Texas (in Dallas’ Highland Park, Houston’s River Oaks and San Antonio’s Alamo Heights, maybe, not Texas). Broyles left after a few years and became an outstanding scriptwriter in Hollywood, earning at least one Oscar nomination for Apollo 13, with Tom Hanks. Broyles, too, enjoyed a later affair with the unnamed woman pictured above (1970-1971). Photo from Austin Film Festival, 2004.



I point to a gap in AP photographer Ted Powers’ shirt at the belt level in the AP office in the Texas Capitol on Oct. 25, 1972. A Marine veteran who participated in the Iwo Jima campaign, Powers and I actually got along well. He frequently asked me to choose among his negatives for a news photo. To my knowledge, he never asked anyone else in the office to do that. Photo by Chris Harte.



June 1973, I tied a string around the top of my head and attached it to the metal frame of a bookcase above some filing cabinets in the AP office in the Capitol Press Room. This ostensibly protected my head in the event rewriting the endless news releases bored me so much I fell asleep and my head otherwise would have fallen forward onto my type-writer. Betsy later could tell I had not recently showered because my hair in back would have looked better. Me? I concerned myself about my hair about as much as Einstein did his. Photo probably by AP photographer Ted Powers.



Like the gag photo above, this one on May 21, 1974, with my fitting a toilet seat over my head shows my opinion of our occupying a public toilet where any PR person could drop a “news release” in our in-box that we almost always felt required to rewrite and send it on the AP state wire (to avoid later criticism from either our office correspondent Garth Jones or our Dallas office). I also posed at about this time or a bit later with gunshooter’s earmuffs to protect my hearing from what we later learned to be 90 decibels of noise from our teletype machines. I sent that photo to our national office for the Wire Service Guild, which put it on the front page of its national tabloid. That caused some in the national headquarters of the AP office in New York City to blow their tops. Both this and the earmuffs’ photos taken by Ted Powers.


1973, Sept. 26, Melanie Page Crow (Phillip’s daughter by an earlier marriage before he marries Nell’s daughter Glynis Jeanne Griffin) is born 10 days before Egyptian troops invade the Israeli-occupied territory in the Sinai Peninsula and Syrian troops invade Israeli-occupied Golan Heights on Oct. 6, 1973, just as the Hebrew holy days of Yom Kippur are to begin. The attacks surprise Israel, but it quickly recovers. Former President Lyndon Baines Johnson dies on Jan. 22. On Oct. 20, President Nixon orders his attorney general, Elliot Richardson, to fire Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox because Cox demands all presidential tape recordings in the Oval Office. Cox declined to accept a Nixon synopsis of his tapes. Richardson refuses to fire Cox and resigns. Richardson’s next-in-command, William D. Ruckelshaus, also refuses to fire Cox and resigns. Third man down the chain, Solicitor General Robert Bork agrees to fire Cox and does so in what becomes known as the Saturday Night Massacre. [Ronald Reagan will nominate Bork for the Supreme Court on July 1, 1987, but on Oct. 23 the Senate will reject him for, many argue, his role in the firing of Archibald Cox as well as his ultra-conservative views; Bork is qualified for the court, in terms scholar-ship, but loses over issues of politics; the reverse occurs in the case of Clarence Thomas, accused by Anita Hill of sexual harassment, but the unqualified Thomas (in terms of scholarship) is approved by the Senate 52-48 on Oct. 15, 1991, based on politics (he is a Republican Uncle Tom).


1973, during the early part of this year I had a brief affair with a drop-dead beauty from Houston nearer my age, a red-haired, rich divorcee, originally out of Alabama, with five kids. Even a couple of my colleagues in the Capitol Press Corps expressed amazement when they saw her. How did you get hooked up with her?! Still not beyond the period when I could make major mistakes (nor am I now, most likely), I asked her to marry me. She saved me from making that huge error by turning me down. I owe her bigtime. She was a religious fundamentalist, and no doubt still is. She knew I was an agnostic (later agnostic and atheist, depending on the question -- see “organized religion” below), because I told her. She quoted to me something her pretentious Houston preacher (one of those offbrand guys who builds his own church or takes over one some other offbrand dude built) told her, quoting from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians 6:14: “Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers.” A fine, fine person -- perhaps better than I deserved -- she could have believed a doorknob was God, and I would not have cared. But that feeling would not have lasted. In time it would have mattered that she believed something for which there is no evidence. Paul made some good points. This was one of them. I omit her name because she probably would wish me to. I never got her photograph, which would have shown what I mean by drop-dead beautiful. Just as well. A reader’s imagination is at least equal to a real photograph.


My long description (18 pages) in my journal (June 17, 1973) of our first sexual sunburst, in my Austin apartment, is the best thing I’ve written about such an encounter. Or read. I seldom allowed myself to hope I had a chance, and I know now part of the reason I did is because her first husband, undoubtedly a klutz, pursued a divorcée at this time. But I did everything right -- whispering, petting, touching, stroking, even cunnilingus, though she tried to forestall that as being super special and therefore for later. Her husband never loved her the way I did, she said.


Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?), photo of painting by J.H.E. Partington, American Heritage, p. 57, April 1977, Library of Congress. The question about his death year stems from his visiting his Civil War battlefield at Shiloh at age 72, then disappearing down into Mexico during the 1910-1920 revolution. Hating rascals of all types, Bierce proved annoyingly (to others) honest himself. His mother encouraged his faith in Santa Claus at age 5, and that so angered him, he wrote about it 40 years later. It turned out Bierce loved his service in the Union Army and even loved combat, a rare affection indeed.


A great writer and satirist of the 19th century named Ambrose Bierce frequently included in his columns barbed, new definitions of words. After he died, someone collected those definitions and published them as The Devil’s Dictionary. My favorite is Bierce’s definition of: “Faith, n, Belief without evidence in what is told by someone who speaks without authority, of things without parallel.” But there are many others. For example: “Jealousy, adj. Unduly concerned about the preservation of that which can be lost only if it is not worth keeping.” And: “Religion, n. A daughter of Hope and Fear, explaining to Ignorance the nature of the unknowable.”


OK, I will write a bit more on her preacher at that time, Robert B. Thieme Jr., of the “Berachah (buh- ROCK-uh) Church” in Houston, who may or may not still be living. An ex-colonel in the Army, he claimed many leadership accomplishments in the military he couldn’t prove (perhaps not even that he was a colonel), Thieme also claimed language skills with Hebrew and Greek. You couldn’t prove it by me one way or the other. But Garry Wills, a professor at Northwestern University in Illinois (a lot like Rice University in Texas), a Pulitzer Prize-winner and a nationally syndicated columnist, Wills showed Theme’s Greek to be, well, all Greek to Thieme. Too bad for Tiedi.She missed a good one, as did I.


A real intellectual, Wills, author of many distinguished books (he won the Pulitzer for his 1992 Lincoln at Gettysburg), stripped Thieme of any pretence of scholarship in Wills’ 1990 book, Under God. Why Wills bothered with Thieme mystifies me. He took on nationally better-known religious nuts like Pat Robinson, Jerry Falwell, Jimmy Swaggart and Hal Lindsley (The Late Great Planet Earth) in Wills’ book. I suppose Thieme’s outrageous claims of language skills got under Wills’ skin. Wills visited the Berachah Church at some point and wrote this about Thieme’s “mastery” of Greek (p. 162):


For people like this, Thieme holds out the promise, at least of giving God service from his own great masterpiece, the human mind. Yet this is precisely where Thieme betrays his followers. His entire importance is, by his own decision, as an intellectual guide. Yet on the first night I went to one of his lectures, he made three errors in his Greek (one of case, one of accent, one of aspiration); on the second night, he made two (of accent and of spelling). When I talked to him about the Lord’s Prayer, I asked what he made of its famous crux -- the meaning of the epiousion. He bluffed, turning on a tape in his mind, going through his spiel on the Lord’ Prayer, touching on every one except the one I had brought up -- this from a man whose brief biography on the back of his books stresses how many years he studied Greek and Hebrew. I cannot judge his (or anybody’s) Hebrew; but if it is no better than his Greek, it is a sham [emphasis supplied].

Thieme not only did not know Greek, he “bluffed” and talked about everything in the Lord’s prayer except what Wills asked about, a famous theological question about that prayer that keeps seminary students up at night. Thieme may not have even been aware of the question, which would mean his education in things theological fell well short of the education of many others. That would make him not special at all.

What Wills refers to here is the mistranslation of the Lord’s Prayer, in both versions given in the New Testament, Matthew 6:9-13 and Luke 11:2-4. Matthew talks of “Give us this day our daily bread.” Luke speaks of “Give us day by day our daily bread.” But the Greek word that is used is the untranslatable epiousion, which does not mean daily.

From Google:

The word πιούσιος comes from (essence) and π (on, upon, to, at), and does not mean daily, nor does it refer to ordinary food. We can translate: “Give us today the bread that comes upon [from?] our essence,” that is, the bread that makes us more real and true men. This bread is Christ, as we know from numerous passages in the New Testament. St. Maximus Confessor says that it is the food of the bread of Life and Wisdom, which the first man did not partake of because of the sin [Garden of Eden], because if he had that divine food, he wouldn’t have fallen to death by his sin. Besides this, the fact that the metaphor of bread is used, unites our everyday food with the eternal food, suggesting thus the whole life as one life in Christ.
















Pencil drawing of me on lined paper by then Rep. Neil Caldwell, D-Angleton, as I covered a Legislative Budget Board meeting in the Texas Capitol on Nov. 19, 1973. I did not know about this until he handed the drawing to me after the meeting. The legend he wrote under the drawing reads: “ANARCHY IS MY BUSINESS.” Caldwell, a well-known cartoonist, later retired from the Legislature and became a fulltime oil painter whose canvases command thousands of dollars. In the summer of this year, 1973, I also drove my VW to Del Rio and then 75 miles into the rugged interior (that leg took five hours) and camped at 4,400 feet above sea level in pep-parization for climbing the next day a 6,975-foot mountain, which must have been one of those my grandfather Heard saw on that marvelous morning so many years ago. Unfortunately, I drank ice water from my ice chest into which some tuna spilled. It caused me to vomit twice at about 6,500 feet the next day, and I never made it to the summit. I wouldn’t have been able to see Mule Mountain, anyway. If I couldn’t see the target mountain from Muley in the summer, I wouldn’t be able to do the reverse.

1973, Dec. 20, Glynis Rhea Nelson and Richard Peterson are married two weeks after

Gerald R. Ford, (Gerald Randolph Ford Jr.; original name: Leslie Lynch King Jr.), born July 14, 1913, is sworn in as vice president, a post to which he is appointed by President Nixon after Spiro Agnew resigns on Oct. 10. Agnew resigns after pleading “no contest” to charges of tax evasion stemming from illegal payments to him by contractors when Agnew served as gov-ernor of Maryland. After Nixon resigns on Aug. 9, 1974, following a vote by the House Ju-diciary Committee to impeach him on charges stemming from the Watergate Scandal, Ford is sworn in as the 38th president of the United States, the only president not to be voted on by all the American people. The Watergate Scandal, often categorized as a third-rate burglary, ac-tually involved an attack on the U.S. Constitution guarantee of free speech by the highest officer in the nation, an officer who took an oath in front of the nation to uphold the Constitution.


















Tom C. Clark


Feb. 1, 1974. As with my 1962 interview of Eleanor Roosevelt, I didn’t know enough

about my subject to conduct a meaningful interview. Clark served in Franklin Roosevelt’s Justice Department and crafted the inland internment of Japanese-Americans from the West Coast. Clark’s motive surprised me later when I did acquire more knowledge about him. He feared other Americans would discriminate against those Japanese because of Pearl Harbor. He later regretted his part in the interment, calling it wholly unnecessary. Truman named Clark attorney general, in which office Clark said the president possessed the authority to seize the steel industry to prevent a strike. But after Truman named him to the Supreme Court (and even after Truman left the White House), Clark opposed that seizure. Clark explained, “Many of the decisions I made when I was attorney general, I was attorney general. But when I got on the court, why there’s a different viewpoint.” This offers an explanation for appointees to the high court. (Search for Souter to find a discussion of how judges often change their position, usually moving left, after they get on the court; incidentally, Clark refused to testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee, noting such testimony might tie his hands later, but he won confirmation 73-8 in the full Senate.) Clark and a unanimous court ruled against desegregation in public schools in Brown v. Board in 1954. Clark retired in 1967. His son Ramsey continues in the father’s maverick ways, volunteering his services in the defense of Saddam Hussein in the latter’s crimes-against-humanity trial in Iraq.












































Betsy Echols with Robert Heard at the annual early spring campout held by then-State Land Commissioner Bob Armstrong at his ranch near Liberty Hill TX in late February 1974. Photo by Austin American-Statesman reporter Dave McNeely (later political columnist).

1974, March 4, Teddy Moody Heard dies at age 39 in Houston three days after top

White House aides H.R. Haldeman and John Erlichman, and Atty. Gen. John Mitchell, are indicted on March 1 for conspiring to obstruct investigation of the Water-gate breakin. Teddy suffers an undetected potassium deficiency in a hospital over a weekend. Hospital staffs on weekends are not as good as the regular people. Certainly this was true at the time of Teddy’s death.

1974, July 27, Kathleen Patricia Herzig and James Findley Hauenstein are married on the

day the U.S. House Judiciary Committee approves two articles of impeachment against President Richard M. Nixon. The U.S. Supreme Court on July 24 unanimously rejects Nixon’s claim of “executive privilege” in keeping his Oval Office tapes from the Watergate special prosecutor.

1974, Sept. 5, Bethany Nicole Heard (John G Jr. and Sheri’s daughter and John and

Joanna’s first grandchild) is born less than a month after President Nixon announces his resignation on Aug. 9 rather than be impeached for abuse of presidential power in an attempt to cover up the Watergate scandal. Sept. 5 is three days before President Gerald Ford grants Nixon “a full, free and absolute pardon,” then announces that “Our long, national nightmare is over.” Special counsel Leon Jaworski’s grand jury in the Watergate crime named Nixon “an un-indicted co-conspirator.” Ford’s pardon will play a large part in Jimmy Carter’s victory over Ford in 1976. Oskar Schindler, an indus-trialist and former member of the Nazi party, dies in Frankfurt, Germany, on Oct. 9 at age 66. Schindler’s List of 1,100 Jews who worked for him saves them from the Holocaust.

1974, Sept. 16, Brian Keith Koppe (Phillip Crow’s daughter Melanie Paige Crow’s husband) is born on the same day President Ford announces a presidential amnesty for Vietnam War draft dodgers, provided they take an oath of allegiance and agree to do two years’ worth of public service. Veterans’ groups protest, as do evaders, who say the program is punitive and implies admission of guilt.


1975, Aug. 8, Bradley Allen Heard (Wendal and Sharyn’s son and Woodrow and Opal’s

grandchild) is born nine days after former Teamsters Union president Jimmy Hoffa is reported missing in Detroit. The case remained unsolved.

1975, Oct. 23, Olivia Anne Curley (Keith and Betsy’s daughter) is born a month after Sarah

Jane Moore, a 45-year-old political activist, on Sept. 22 shoots at President Ford in San Francisco, but a bystander hits her hand as she fires, causing her to miss.

1975, Dec. 10, Sydney Dayle Heard and Buck Davenport marry six days after the Senate

Select Committee on Intelligence announces it can find no direct evidence that the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) participated in the overthrow of Chilean leftist President Salvadore Allende Gossens in 1973, but it concludes the CIA “created an atmosphere” against Allende (ah-YEN-day). On Dec. 30 is born Tiger Woods of a Thai mother and black American soldier and will become the greatest golfer in the world in 1999-2000.


1976, June 5, Wyatt Heard and Heidi Frost marry a month before the United States

observes on July 4 its 200th anniversary. The intriguing thing about Wyatt’s second marriage is which wife will be buried on his left? Oldtimers usually married only once, and their wives got buried on their left (this is another example in our “enlightened” culture where male dominance plays a role. Another not mentioned below is why the female’s parents always are expected to pay all expenses of a wedding, as if the male’s parents did their part by siring (that word is another example of male dominance) a male.








































































1977, April 4, Karen Ann Robertson (Virginia and Paul’s daughter and Sid and Mary’s

grandchild) is born a little over a month before farm-labor leader Cesar Chavez signs an agreement with the Teamsters Union.

June 14, 1977, as I approached the former Jonesboro AR First Baptist Church’s personage

on my return to interview several persons involved in the Church War of 1931, the hair on the back of my head began to tingle as I thought, “No, it couldn’t be.” But indeed two magnets from 1909-1914 Ford Model-T magnetos (early day starters) rested on the steps. I played with such magnets before we moved from that house in 1936. These looked as if they waited undisturbed for me for 41 years. All Jonesboro 1977 photos, except the third, by me.


1977, June 22, Jason Alan Woolf (Jewel and Roger’s son and Sid and Mary’s grandchild) is

born three weeks before an electrical storm north of New York City on July 13 knocks out power in the city and part of Westchester County. A movie will be made dealing with a high birth rate nine months later. On Aug. 16 Elvis Presley dies of cardiac arrhythmia in Memphis TN at age 42. For his most-delirious fans, of course, Elvis never died, despite his drug-addicted, bloated (but still sequined) self.

1977, Nov. 29, Lawrence E. Langworthy dies at age 76 less than three months after

President Jimmy Carter and Gen. Omar Torrijos Herrera of Panama sign treaties on Sept. 7 for the gradual return of the Panama Canal to Panama. The treaties, although applauded by conservatives such as actor John Wayne, would hurt Carter in 1980 in his race against Ronald Reagan, but 52 American hostages held for 444 days, beginning on Nov. 4, 1979, in Iran will hurt Carter more.

1978, February, in this month Texas Parade magazine published my The Deer That

Would Not Die. I think I shot the deer in December 1948, but I can’t remember for sure. It could have been barely 1949,January. I did not keep a regular journal until early 1968. Here is Deer:













































State Dist. Judge Wyatt Heard of Houston marries his younger brother Robert and Betsy Gayle Echols on May 13, 1978, behind Green Pastures Restaurant in South Austin under a live oak tree. One of the peacocks that roam Green Pasture’s grounds flew up into the tree shown here during the ceremony and emitted the raucous peacock call. Between Betsy and Robert in the background is her father, Marvin, who may be praying that his daughter is doing the right thing. Betsy’s mother, Ruth, may have taken this photo.


1978, May 13, Robert and “Betsy” Gayle Echols marry five weeks after President Carter on April 7 postpones production of the neutron bomb, which proponents say will kill with enhanced radiation but do much less damage to property. In 1978 American boxer Muhammad Ali wins the heavyweight championship for the third time.


1978, June 30, Jonathan David Heard (John G. Jr. and Sheri’s son) is born two days after the U.S. Supreme Court on June 28 rules against racial quotas in the case of Allan Bakke, who claims he has been denied admittance to medical school at the University of California at Davis in favor of less-qualified blacks. On July 25, the first “testtube” baby -- conceived through in-vitro fertilization -- Louise Joy Brown, is born in Oldham, Eng-land.

1978, Dec. 5, Hannah Catherine Curley (Keith and Betsy’s daughter) is born 17 days after

U.S. Rep. Leo Ryan of California and others traveling with him are murdered on Nov. 18 near Jonestown, Guyana, by members of California cult leader Jim Jones’ religious sect, 911 members of which then commit suicide (but many of them don’t know the Kool-Aid is laced with cyanide).

1978, Dec. 24, Lisa Elizabeth Dunlap (Wayne and Linda Mae’s child) is born a week

before the United States on Jan. 1, 1979, opens diplomatic relations with China for the first time since 1949 (Richard Nixon, a rabid anti-Communist for decades and thus one of the few politicians who could do this, deserves credit for “opening China” with his February 1972 trip to China).

1979, May 22, Benjamin Frost Heard (Wyatt and Heidi’s son) is born less than two

months after an accident at the Three Mile Island nuclear reactor in Pennsylvania sends clouds of radioactive steam into the air on March 28, 12 days after the Jack Lemmon movie, China Syndrome, about a nuclear plant accident, is released. A character in Syndrome says a meltdown at Three Mile Island would leave “an area the size of Pennsyl-vania” permanently uninhabitable. In 1982, scientist determined a partial meltdown indeed occurred there, the top five feet of the nuclear rods, 50 percent of the core, melted down. The failure of a valve, which would not have harmed the reactor, designed to correct itself in such an event, led to a technician turning off the water needed to cool the core, creating the problem. In the year 2050, when Benjamin is 71, he can win bar bets by saying his grandmother’s grandfather born in 1797.

1979, May 23, Roxanne Blue (Roger and Cynthia’s daughter) is born two days before the

worst aviation accident in American history kills 273 people when a DC-10 crashes after takeoff from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport.

1979, June 9, Sarah Katherine Wright (Stuart and Nancy’s daughter) is born nine days

before President Carter and Soviet President Leonid Brezhnev on June 18 sign the SALT II agreement to limit long-range nuclear missiles and bombers of each country to 2,250.

1979, July 17, Brian Douglas Woolf (Jewel and Roger’s son and Sid and Mary’s grand-

child) is born 11 days before the OPEC cartel of oil-producing countries in the Middle East announce another price hike, which, together with earlier increases in the past 12 months, boosts the price by 50 percent.



























































1979, summer, Top left, our first Dalmatian, Hawkeye, licks my face atop a ridge over-

looking Fort Davis in West Texas. Top right: Hawkeye stands with me as we survey an expanse of West Texas below the western cliff of a 30-acre property I bought with my veterans’ land loan. The bottom of the 30 acres stood about 5,600 feet above sea level, and the top nearly 5,900 feet. Below left: Maggie leans on me as I read a magazine in our backyard glide swing in the 1980s. Dalmatians are capable of wonderful affection with family members but usually are not good around strangers. We adopted Maggie in 1988 so we wouldn’t be without a dog when Hawkeye died. First three photos by Betsy- controversy. Bottom right: Lynn, named for my best teacher ever, Dr. Ralph Lynn, history professor emeritus at Baylor, still living in 2006 in Waco at 96. Photo by me in Austin’s Town Lake Park, north of the river and west of I-35 around 2000, the area apparently where the first-ever rodeo in Texas got held in 1888. We got Lynn from the Austin Town Lake Animal Center.


1979, Oct. 23, Hilary Hope Heard (Drew and Terri’s daughter) is born 12 days before

Muslim students storm the U.S. embassy in Teheran on Nov. 4 and take 66 hostages (holding 52 for 444 days) in retaliation for the admission of the former Shah of Iran into the U.S. for gall-bladder surgery.






















































1980, July, my son Dan came to my house and told a bizarre story, that the entire family,

meaning Mary Lou, Tom, him, and me, needed to leave town right away. Reason: rock bandleader Lou Reed sought to harm us. Then I realized Dan suffered from a mental il-lness, which turned out to be paranoid schizophrenia. Not until a security guard shot him to death 13 years later, on Dec. 12, 1992, did Dan know peace.

1980, June 28, Peter West Gibbens and Mary Joan Sydlosky marry the day after, in re-

sponse to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, President Carter signs a bill allowing draft registration of all men 19 and 20 years old. Six weeks before June 28, on May 18, Mount St. Helens, 9,677-foot volcano in southwestern Washington, about 50 miles north-northeast of Portland OR, erupted with 500 times the force of the Hiroshima explo-sion, shearing off 1,311 feet of its conical summit, killing 57 people, creating the largest landslide (from its north wall) ever recorded, and fanning down trees (as far as 15 miles away) in 230 square miles, an area three times the size s of the District of Columbia. The highest point of the remaining volcano stood 8,366 feet above sea level. Chelsea Clinton, daughter and only child of future President Bill Clinton and future New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, is born on Feb. 27. On Dec. 8, Beatle John Lennon, 40, is assassinated in Manhattan by 25-year-old Texan Mark David Chapman. On Feb. 22, 1980, an American icehockey team of amateurs wins the gold medal versus the Soviet Union’s professional-in-everything-but-name team 4-3 in the Winter Olympics at Lake Placid, New York. It is one of the greatest upsets in the history of sport. On Dec. 8, a man named Mark David Chapman, 25, shot to death John Lennon of The Beetles in Manhattan. Chapman was a fan of Lennon.

1981, March 6, Alexis Blue (Roger and Cynthia’s child) is born 17 days before the U.S.

Supreme Court decides 6-3 on March 23 that states can pass legislation prohibiting abortions on teenagers unless their parents are notified (the motive of the plaintiffs, of course, is to intimidate legitimate health-care providers, which means many girls again will go to the butchers in back alleys). On March 30, a mentally ill man obsessed with actress Jodie Foster believes he can impress her by shooting President Ronald Reagan outside a Washington hotel. Also shot by John Hinckley Jr. is press secretary James Brady, a Secret Service agent and a District of Columbia police officer. Reagan’s lung is pierced, producing bright, oxygenated blood, and he is successfully operated on. Reagan produces a memorable line about his surgeons before he is put to sleep for surgery, “I hope all of you are Republicans.” Hinckley is imprisoned. On April 4, Henry Cisneros becomes the first Mexican-American to become mayor of a major U.S. city, San Antonio.

1981, Aug. 11, Sarah Elizabeth Heard (Wendal and Sharyn’s daughter and Woodrow

and Opal’s grandchild) is born eight days after Air Traffic Controllers go out on strike. President Reagan retaliates by firing them, destroying their union and launching a program to train new controllers.

1981, Sept. 21, Stephen Daniel Karnatz (Charlotte’s son and Woodrow and Opal’s

grandson) is born on the day Sandra Day O’Connor becomes the first woman member of the U.S. Supreme Court (appointed by Ronald Reagan). On Oct. 6, Muslim extremists assassinate Egyptian leader Anwar Sadat because he negotiated a peace with Israel. It’s nearly always the nuts of a leader’s own side that kill him, for being too moder-ate: A Hindu killed Mahatma Gandhi, a Hindu. A fundamentalist Jew killed Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.

1982, March 7, Jared Matthew Wright (Stuart and Nancy’s son) is born a week after

Wayne Williams is found guilty on Feb. 27 of killing two of the 28 young blacks found murdered in and around Atlanta GA.

1982, April 17, Gene Kreger (Nikki’s husband and Sid and Mary’s son-in-law) dies at age

62 a little over a month before British troops land on the Falkland Islands in the South Atlantic on May 21 to oust invading Argentine forces.

1982, June 16, Bowen Cortes Hunter (D III’s stepson) is born the day after the U.S.

Supreme Court rules in a case originating in South Texas that all children in this country are entitled to public education, regardless of their citizenship.

1982, Aug. 29, Haley Wimberly Heard (Drew and Terri’s child) is born 10 days before

President Ronald Reagan announces on Sept. 8 he will not oppose a bill by North Carolina Sen. Jesse Helms to allow official prayer in public schools.

1982, Sept. 15, Elizabeth Lynn Robertson (Virginia and Paul’s daughter and Sid and

Mary’s grandchild) is born six weeks before President Reagan’s administration shows a record budget deficit of more than $110 billion for fiscal 1982.

About 1983, when I became the Texas Capitol correspondent for the San Antonio News-

Express. Among other things, I wrote a Sunday column for a year and a half that my Uncle Deck Heard read regularly, he told me at his wife Clara’s funeral service at the Reagan Wells Baptist Church in 1984 (see below: A Hill Country Funeral, Sept. 26, 1986, Texas Observer). Deck’s comment is one of the best compliments I ever received. It is important to note that I wrote a liberal-slanted, personal-opinion column, because a distant cousin, Sue Heard Helveston, once castigated my liberalism, asking if I didn’t know that all my kin in the Dry Frio Canyon thought of themselves as conservatives. Deck’s interest in my columns, and hints of liberal political thought I picked up from other relatives in the canyon over the years, particularly in the 1940s from female members of the family, indicated to me something other than rock-ribbed conservatism. The federal government’s subsidy for mohair alone would seem to make those folks harbor a kindlier view of the “ogre” in Washington than people like Sue hold. Deck died Feb. 6, 1986, at age 87.


I discontinued the column after the executive editor, an idiot named Bert Wise, edited a column I wrote about San Antonio Cong. Henry B. Gonzales. The editing broke the un-spoken compact between an opinion-column writer and his readers. That understanding is that the column is the columnist’s opinion, with nothing added or taken out. Wise said the mostly praiseworthy column (Gonzales filibustered Gov. Price Daniel’s segregation bills in the Texas Senate in the late 1950s and in more recent years called repeatedly for the impeachment of President Ronald Reagan) would offend wealthy subscribers in Alamo Heights. He argued that he held a right to edit anything in the paper. I agreed, but said I also possessed a right, to stop writing the column. That pissed him off, but he could do nothing about it, until six months later when he fired me for “doing poor work,” an utterly non-seneical all-egation leveled at the best reporter and best writer on the paper. After I filed for unemployment insurance while looking for another job, Wise tried to claim I quit instead of being fired. I beat him on that fight, too. Probably an Express photographer took the photo.

1983, March 3, Lacey Barrett Gibbens (Bobby Gibbens Jr.’s step-daughter) is born 20

days before the U.S. House approves on March 23 a Democratic budget that increases the federal budget deficit by $174 billion, rather than by $189 billion proposed by President Reagan.

1983, July 27, Rebecca Lee Gibbens (Peter and Mary’s first child) is born almost six

weeks after Sally Ride on June 18 becomes the first American woman astronaut to travel in space, inspiring the national chant: “Ride, Sally, Ride.”

1983, Sept. 3, Lawrence Pike Heard (Wyatt and Teddy’s son) and Carolyn Gray marry

two days after President Reagan orders 2,000 Marines into Beirut, Lebanon, to keep the peace. On the same date, Sept. 1, a Soviet jet fighter shoots down a Korean Air Lines Boeing 747 near Eastern Siberia, killing all 269 persons aboard.

1983, Oct. 11, Bradley Walker Gibbens (Daniel and Jeri’s first child) is born two days

after Interior Secretary James Watt resigns on Oct. 9 because of a firestorm he created by defending, on Sept. 21, the composition of his new coal advisory commission by saying: “I have a black, I have a woman, two Jews and a cripple,” fore-shadowing the kind of political tin ear special prosecutor Kenneth Starr, obsessed with Bill Clinton’s sex life, will demonstrate more than a decade later.

1983, Oct. 18, Jeffrey Adam Charles and Victoria Wilson marry five days before, on

Oct. 23, a Muslim fanatic drives a truck with explosives into Marine headquarters in Beirut, killing 241 servicemen. The fanatic’s religion teaches him that such an act of martyrdom will transport him instantly to heaven, where he will be given 72 virgins and all the wine and dates he could want.

1984, Jan. 2, Norah Jane Curley (Keith and Betsy’s daughter) is born the day after the

American Telephone and Telegraph company is broken into seven “Baby Bells.” In 1984 Indian prime minister Indira Gandhi is assassinated.














































June 1984 photo by Austin American-Statesman photographer Robert Godwin of Rob

ert and Betsy Heard at a fundraiser for arthritis at a ranch west of Dripping Springs TX, where Robert got to rib Dallas Cowboy coach Tom Landry for drafting a kid named Flowers out of Tennessee instead of “Super” Bill Bradley out of Landry’s old school, Texas. Bradley went on to establish an NFL record 22 interceptions in two years for Philadelphia, while speedster Flowers turned out to be a bust for the Cowboys. When I first saw this picture, I first looked at myself (of course) and thought I looked pretty good. But then I looked at Betsy and knew immediately this is the best photo of her I ever saw.

1984, this is an appropriate place to mention mother’s behavior when we visited her in the

years after dad’s death. Like clockwork, at some point in Betsy’s and my visit, mother would recount dad’s last days, even hours, in the hospital. This seemed a therapeutic ne-cessity for her. We never interrupted or indicated that we heard it all before. She even retold dad’s quote about asking her to keep his daughter-in-law Joanna (John’s wife) away from him. He lacked the strength then to continue fighting her verbally when she insisted that he, a minister for more than half a century, use the fundamentalists’ mantra, “Praise the Lord.” He declined to take the theological advice of a woman 30 years youn-ger than he. On the other hand, it should be pointed out that John and Joanna took mom to Israel on one of their many trips there, where she delighted in seeing all the Christian holy places (Joanna herself no doubt luxuriated in visiting all the Jewish ones; she is the only Anglo I know who would rather be Jewish). Further, I also should note I once watched Joanna help clean mom’s false dentures in a hospital room while mom exper-ienced stomach or hip problems (she couldn’t eat raw vegetables like celery, and she eventually got her hip replaced, enduring months of rehab without complaint). So Joanna demonstrated the real-life compassion of her faith by assisting others in their need.

1984, Dec. 7, Clara Bradshaw Heard dies at age 80 four days after a Union Carbide

plant in Bhopal, India, explodes, killing more than 3,000 people.

1985, Jan. 15, Laura Elizabeth “Bessie” Heard Langworthy dies at age 82 three weeks

before President Reagan on Feb. 4 submits a budget with a $180 billion deficit. The budget calls for killing the Peace Corps, the Legal Services [for poor people] Cor-poration and the Small Business Administration. Born on Feb. 21 is British soprano Charlotte Church, with as pure a sound as ever pushed air through vocal chords.































1985, the photo above left appeared on the cover of a National Geographic magazine in

1985. Taken by Steve McCurry, this photo became famous as The Afghan Girl. Se-venteen years later, in 2002, McCurry found her again, 17 years later, married and with three children, and he persuaded her husband and her that his photo of her in 2002, min-us the burka she wore as a pious Islamic woman, would help the plight of the poor in Af-ghanistan. The photo at right is the one McCurry took in 2002 of Sharbat Gula, who did not know her own age, but she must have been 28 to 30 in 2002. Scientific comparison of the irises, as singular as fingerprints, in the photos proved the same.


1985, May 28, Kristin Gayle Gibbens (Daniel and Jeri’s second child) is born two weeks

before Karen Ann Quinlan dies on June 11 after living in a coma on a respirator for nearly 10 years; a 1976 U.S. Supreme Court decision is cited to allow her to be removed from the respirator.

1985, Oct. 5, Glynis Jeanne Griffin (Bobby and Nell’s daughter) and Phillip Mathaniel

Crow Jr. marry five weeks after a U.S.-French search team announces on Sept. 1 it has located the British liner Titanic, which sank on the night of April 14-15, 1912, less than three hours after colliding with an iceberg, killing more than 1,500 of its 2,200 passen-gers. The United States adopted the 16th Amendment to its Constitution the next year, 1913, allowing Congress to impose a graduated income tax, and April 15 came to symbolize another disaster for some, mostly well-off American people, the date on which income-tax returns are required to be filed. On Sept. 19, the first of two major earthquakes that kill more than 9,500 persons strikes Mexico City.

1985, Dec. 18, Megean Barrett Gibbens (Bobby Gibbens Jr.’s step-daughter) is born a

month after President Reagan and Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev meet in Geneva on Nov. 19-20, but reach no agreement on what scares Gorbachev: Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative (“Star Wars”), which American scientists, but not Soviet political leaders, know is a pile of wishful crap; Reagan will not understand even in October (10-12) 1986, at their meeting in Reykjavik, Iceland, that Gorbachev strongly hinted the Soviet Union wanted to surrender in the Cold War because Russia can’t match the dollars Reagan talked about spending on defense.



In 1985-1986, I wrote a weekly column for The Texas Lawyer. Of about 100 columns I wrote for that publication, I include one here, from the Jan. 15, 1986, edition:


Writer as hero not so farfetched


Lawyers live in a world of words. Mostly printed words. Opinions, digests, advance sheets, briefs, newspapers, magazines, books. They read them all the time -- at the office and at home, on airplanes and on the john. And what they most like to read is the product of the best writers, whether judges, professors or other lawyers, because they can absorb, in one-one hundredth of the time that it took to create, the best effort of a first-rate legal mind.

Because their lives are dominated by the printed word, lawyers appreciate more than most the importance of permanent records and in the truest sense are historians. In many cases, even titanic events might as well not have occurred if no one wrote them down. Sound too strong? Allow me to demonstrate.

Years ago as a boy and young man living near Baylor University, I used to shake my head when I read this inscription just under the roofline of the administration building: “The preservers of history are as heroic as its makers.”

Why would anyone trumpet such a strange and plainly indefensible declaration, I won-dered. A writer at his desk as heroic as men at war? A self-evident absurdity.

Perhaps Themistocles, the 5th century B.C. Athenian statesman, said it best. Asked whether he would rather be Achilles or Homer, he replied, “Which would you rather be -- a conqueror in the Olympic games or the crier that proclaims who are conquerors?” But there is a beautiful irony here. If Plutarch, the 1st century A.D. Greek biographer, had not preserved that quote in his Apophthegms of Great Kings and Great Commanders [Plutarch’s Lives], we wouldn’t have known about it. It would have been as if Themistocles never said it. Or anyone else.

All the history we know fills only a bucket beside the sea that is lost to us. We have only snatches of knowledge from archeologists and anthropologists about anything that happened before 3000 B.C., when the Sumerians invented writing.

Who really did invent the wheel? Who discovered how to make fire? Who first figured out what caused babies? What unknown tribal Lincolns saved their peoples? What giants of early music, astronomy, mathematics, art, athletics, trade, agriculture, and war dissolved nameless and forgotten in the mists of prehistory?

But that isn’t all. Think of what we lost when an angry Christian mob, intent upon the destruction of all things “pagan,” burned the Great Library at Alexandria early in the 5th century A.D. Half a million ancient manuscripts turned to smoke. Only seven of Sophocles’ 123 plays survived, which Carl Sagan likens to having “only” Coriolanus and A Winter’s Tale from Shakespeare’s work while knowing the titles but not the content of Hamlet, Macbeth, Julius Caesar, King Lear and Romeo and Juliet.

Almost certainly some of the manuscripts at Alexandria recorded techniques used by the Egyptians to build the Great Pyramid. Millennia before the invention of the magnetic compass, they laid out the pyramid truer to true north than the North Star. How?

There are many other examples of senseless destruction or fluke preservation, from the Code of Hammurabi to Sappho’s poetry to the Synoptic Gospels to Mayan literature, but let’s move forward. The 783 Texians at the Battle of San Jacinto in 1836 included three dozen doctors, lawyers and other professionals. But no one wrote about the battle for three decades.

Our most graphic account of Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg is in a letter, not meant for publication, by a Yankee officer, Frank Haskell, to his brother. Listen to just two sentences: “The red flags wave, their horsemen gallop up and down; the arms of eighteen thousand men, barrel and bayonet, gleam in the sun, a sloping forest of flashing steel. Right on they move, as with one soul, in perfect order, without impediment of ditch, or wall or stream, over ridge and slope, through orchard and meadow, and cornfield, magnificent, grim, irresistible.” Through those words we see that charge as no one else saved it for us.

What would an Anne Frank among the Zulu or the Comanche have told us? About the same events we have much information but still not enough. What did Roosevelt know about Pearl Harbor and when did he know it? What is the truth about the Sacco-Vanzetti case or the Lindbergh kidnapping, or Stanton’s involvement in Lincoln’s assassination? How many shots were fired and by whom in Dallas’ Dealey Plaza on Nov. 22, 1963? Maybe this is what Henry Ford meant when he said, “History is bunk.”

Even if we can’t know history precisely, which is what I think Ford held in mind, we could preserve something. What do we know about Stonehenge or King Arthur or Robin Hood? Almost nothing. What was on the 18-1/2 minute gap in Nixon’s tape? Who was Deep Throat? Unless someone writes it down, we’ll never know.

Not only must writers tell us what happened, later writers must retell it over and over, placing it in context of its time as related to the writer’s time. Historical events are like pebbles thrown into quicksand. They must constantly be pulled up or they quickly sink out of sight.

We must have action people, of course. They rush toward the future to build or change something. The hero does his thing. He wins applause and his name is on everyone’s tongue. But he can only hope that somewhere in his audience, or even in a later generation, there is a Homer to sing of him and not only keep his name green but save it from fading from memory altogether.

Listen to Carl Sandburg’s Grass:

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

Shovel them under and let me work -- I am grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres [EE-pry] and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor,

What place is this?

Where are we now?

I am the grass.

Let me work.

[A few of modifications. In 1986, literate persons still used the terms “B.C.” and “A.D.” Today it is B.C.E. and C.E. We know now that 13,000 to 13,500 Confederates charged the Union center on the third day at Gettysburg, not 18,000. And today we know the identity of Deep Throat in 1972, the FBI’s No. 2 man, Mark Felt. A classic example of the point I sought to make, but forgot to mention, is Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade. Without that poem, almost no one today could tell you zilch about the Crimean War, 1853-1856, between Russia and a coalition of Great Britain, France and the Sardinia-Piedmont. Tiny as that conflict seems to us today, Tennyson’s poem exceeds in beauty and memory anything written about war since Homer and The Iliad; “Into the Valley of Death Rode the Six Hundred.”].

1986, Feb. 3, Clarence Dexter Heard dies at age 88 six days after the space shuttle

Challenger explodes on Jan. 28 one minute after takeoff from Cape Canaveral FL, killing all seven astronauts, including school teacher Christa McAuliffe. It is less than 14 months since Clara, Deck’s wife, died. British soprano Charlotte Church is born on Feb. 21. She celebrates her 16th birthday in 2002.

1986, April 28, Melissa Rae Gibbens (Peter and Mary’s second child) is born three days

after Swedish nuclear workers on April 25 detect high levels of radiation in the air, later

determined to come from an explosion April 26 at the Soviet Chernobyl nuclear power plant.