A Word Edgewise
by
Mary Joe Clendenin

Last Updated 07/12/06

For more literature go to Clendenin Books
Email: mjclen@our-town.com


             IN EARLY TEXAS, UGLIEST CONTESTS WERE POPULAR

         By Mary Joe Clendenin

           I found a book by June Rayfield Welch that tells short, short stories about early Texas men, not ones found in history books, at least not in history books that I studied, but they are about interesting “characters.” A few of them I will tell you about.

          Reading the book made me think, “Now who, of my lifetime would be in such a book for someone to read 100 years hence.” Since I hobnob with neither celebrates or millionaires, I could think of very few who would be worthy of hunting down quirks and stories about their lives. Maybe Ross Perot, Jimmy Stewart, Ann Richardson and a few others (names have failed me) would qualify as real characters remembered in the next century.

          Jonas Harrison, a well-loved East Texas man, for whom Harrison County was named, was a very ugly man. Ugliness as a favorite topic of frontier humor was noted by contests, and a candidate for governor declared that there were three terribly ugly men in Texas: he was one and his opponent was the other two.

          Once in the old states, a well-dressed man stopped Harrison on the street and gave him a handsome walking cane. Harrison thanked the stranger, who then explained the reason for his gift, “I always believed that I was the ugliest man in the world. But I am a beauty compared to you.”

          Harrison was a little stung by the criticism, but he thanked the man who told him that the condition of the gift was that Harrison must pass the gift on if he found an uglier man. So Jonas went along his way for several years, using the handsome cane as a valued gift.

          Then, one Saturday on the public square in Shelbyville, Texas, Harrison met the ugliest human he had ever imagined. Harrison introduced himself, presented the cane to the ugly man explaining the motive. The new owner whipped Harrison with the walking stick.

          Oh well, some people smeared with ugly, just don’t want to own it. Decatur, Texas, has some memorials of Dan Waggoner, founder of a cattle-baron dynasty. Dan was known for his mighty grip on a dollar. He was so conscious of the cost of all pleasures that he parked the stub of his cigar on a fence post when he went into his great grandmother’s boarding house. As he left after dinner, he picked up the stub for a bit more smoke.

          Once, a preacher asked him to contribute to a church building fund. He pulled out his wallet and handed over $6. The disappointed preacher protested. “You must give more than that. Your own son pledged $5,000.”

          Dan Waggoner said, “That may be, but you must remember that my son has a very rich daddy.”

          In the 1880s, Tom Bean was Fannin County’s rich man. Bean was invariably kind and dignified. The fact that he never married caused Bean to be especially interesting to women. He made substantial contributions to several Bonham churches, but he did not join one.

          Once, as the county historian told it, a buxom woman sat by his side and said, “Oh, Colonel Bean, don’t you want to go to heaven”

          “The quiet gentleman bowed with his usual courtly grace and said, “Well, not tonight ma’am, not tonight.”

          In 1923 Lindbergh ‘s plane crashed into a store in Camp Wood, Texas. He told of the accident: “One of the town streets was wide enough to take-off from, provided I could get a forty-four foot wing between two telephone poles forty-six feet apart and brush through a few branches on either side of the road later on.” But he had not counted on a rough place in the street that caused one wing to hit a pole and the plane spun around to plow into a hardware store making pots and pans fly like trash in a whirlwind. The store owner was so amazed at the commotion in the street that he would not allow Lindbergh to pay for damages. The owner said that the damage was off-set by the advertising he received.

          By the time the plane was airworthy, Lindbergh needed to report to Brooks Field. On March 14, 1924, he began training with 103 other aviation cadets.

          June Rayfield Welch used these stories and others on her “Vignettes of Texas History on KRLD-1080, Dallas. I’ve now retold some and am thankful for her record in “Tell Me A Texas Story.”


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