Mental Health Still a Problem

Parkview Retreat for Nervous and Mental Diseases occupied the original site of McBride’s Hospital for Mental Diseases in Greenville. Patients were treated with luxury and style. Some referred to a stay there similar to a European Spa.

Hardly a week passes that we don’t hear news of some tragic event at a religious sanctuary, or a school, or any place where public events take place. Mental health is a major crisis in the United States today. But guess what? It’s been around a long time. So, let’s look at attempts to deal with such issues from 1890 to 1920.

The two decades that spanned the 19th and 20th centuries were no worse and no violent than other time periods in the United States. Yet it was during this time period that the State of Texas took steps to care for patients with mental illness. The first state operated mental health hospital was built in Austin at the cost of $50,000. Known as Austin State Hospital it opened in 1861, only to close during the Civil War and Reconstruction.

In 1883 a state operated hospital opened in Terrell for residents of East Texas followed by a San Antonio hospital for the southwestern portion of the state in 1892. The state hospital for West Texas was opened in 1899 in Abilene. In 1919 the Rusk State Hospital. Male and female patients were accepted, although segregated by race in each hospital.

The procedure for admitting a patient to a state mental hospital was barbaric, to say the least. Records in Hunt County, circa 1905, for an unmarried white female in her forties is typical. The woman lived on a farm with her sister and brother-in-law and their children in a small house. The probate papers suggested that the brother-in-law was not pleased with the arrangement. The woman was obviously depressed, did not bathe or comb her hair, and stayed in a semi-isolated area of the house. The brother-in-law asked a friend to help him take the woman to Greenville to be sent to Terrell. They loaded her in the back of a wagon, secured her and came into town about dark. She was left with the sheriff who put her in a cell.

The next morning Hunt County Commissioners Court met for her hearing. The brother-in-law spoke but she was not called to speak or allowed a witness. The Court decided she needed to be at the hospital in Terrell. Again, the brother-in-law and friend put her in the wagon, secured her, and took her to the state mental hospital where she remained for almost five years. When released she did not return to her sister’s home.

Private mental hospitals were less traumatic but quite expensive. Dr. Albert S. McBride (1872-1932) opened McBride’s Hospital for Mental Diseases on Bee Street across from Graham Park where he was owner and attending physician. In a 1928 Greenville City Directory he advertised it as a treatment center for “Mental and Nervous Diseases, Drug and Alcoholic Addicts, Home for Aged and Infirm.” Dr. McBride was educated in Hunt County schools and attended Henry College in neighboring Campbell before he completed his medical training at the Kentucky School of Medicine in Louisville. He first practiced medicine in Oklahoma and then in his hometown of Lone Oak before establishing his practice in Greenville in 1911.

Note that Drug and Alcoholic Addicts were treated. At that time, it was not uncommon for upper class women to be addicted to laudanum, today known as morphine. A professor friend of mine told me that more women suffered from mental health issues and used laudanum. They were care givers to five to ten or more children, had extensive home making tasks with no assistance or modern equipment, and if they resided in a rural area, found other female friends few and far between. It was a lonely, exhausting existence for them.

By the 1930s, with a faltering economic situation, many private mental health facilities closed. While private care centers were more expensive, very little difference in treatment rates existed. Mental Health was not something one talked about.

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World War I in the Movies

Larger size of newspaper appears at the end of this blog entry.

When I began my World War I project I read somewhere that after the war, audiences could view the conflict in the comfort of their local movie theater. Then I later read that those weren’t really accurate films, but ones made by an enterprise in New Jersey. I dropped the film subject, forgot where I found the information, and went on with other pursuits of the time period.

While I was searching for newspaper comments about November 1918 in north Texas, I decided to use the Jacksboro Gazette in Jack County. From 1871 through 1997 members of my family, all six generations including myself, have called Jack County home. Many of the online newspapers from one hundred years ago can be found at “Portals to Texas”, a wonderful website posted by the University of North Texas. Once one learns to use the site, it is unbelievably filled with Texas history in all 254 counties.

While scanning through the local weekly newspaper, I decided to check out what my Coley family was doing at that time. In January 1920 I found my grandfather’s name listed in the cast of a movie documenting experiences of the 90th Division, American Expeditionary Forces. That Division was composed of volunteers from Oklahoma and much of north Texas.

There was a half-page ad is the Gazette promoting the film. About a dozen men who served were mentioned as members of the action. One of the men was a good friend of my grandfather’s. I suspect their time together in war-torn Alsace-Lorraine created a lifetime bond between the two men.

Now comes the hard part. Where can I find a copy of the film? Almost all of the existing films taken by the U. S. Army Signal Corps from 1917 to 1919 are now at the National Archives in Washington, D. C. Because of the fragile condition of century old footage the films are rare. Film decay and arbitrary disposal of attributed to the loss of the films.

So I plan to contact the National Archives to determine if there is any chance that one particular film is al least partially intact and has been copied. Film aficionados are definitely into preservation of old movies. Of the thousands such films around, many have been restored, I hope the one I am interested in has been,

Now to another subject, next Saturday morning, November 10 at 11:00 A.M. the Hunt County Commissioners and members of the Hunt County Historical Commission will honor those men who lost their lives defending democracy throughout the entire world. The ceremony takes place on the steps of the north side of the courthouse. There is no charge, it will be fairly brief, but will recognize those brave men. Please join us.

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Happy Halloween

One of my favorite reads!

I love sitting outside in the early evening. Banks, my son’s Labradoodle and I enjoy the still of the late afternoon. But when you read this there will probably be mayhem all over the country. It’s Halloween! Kids, teens, and parents love it. It’s supposed to rain here in Texas so the excitement may be dampened.

What is it that we love about this holiday? For children it’s no doubt the candy and treats, the thrill of staying up later, and running wild with friends. If your family is anything like mine, Dad stayed home, handed out treats, tasted a few between trick-o-treaters arriving on the front porch, and let Mom corral the excited children. When Halloween fell on Friday or Saturday nights, the fun extended well past bedtime.

In my hometown, one of the men’s clubs held a carnival on the square. One year the boys in my eighth grade class played a prank on our male English teacher. Some of the boys from rural homes filled a paper bag with cow manure and brought it to town. When they arrived at the victim’s home, they set fire to the bag, rang the doorbell and ran. Needless to say the teacher was gullible enough to try to stamp out the flames on his porch with his foot. The next day everyone had to write a ghost story. Something tells me this was an annual assignment.

When I was in Brownies, we had Day Camp on the banks of Lost Creek behind the old Fort Richardson. The older girls had a sleepover one night. The leaders decided to tell us about “The Fall of the House of Usher” by Edgar Allen Poe. It scared me so much I remembered it in eighth grade. That was my ghost story.

I also clearly remember Washington Irving’s “Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. I loved it! One year at Halloween I took my Cub Scout Den to a Ghost Tour at a local museum. Someone dressed up as a colonial gentleman who held his head (pumpkin) under his arm while riding his horse through the countryside. Needless to say, the boys were less rowdy on the way home.

I am a fan of Edward Gorey, phenomenal artist and stage designer. Last night I read s summary of his play, “Dracula.” The story is delightful. When I have writer’s
block, a frequent infirmity, I go to the bookshelf and take down any Agatha Christie novel to clear my head. Mystery stories are great ways to clear your foggy mind. Just omit the blood and guts for me.

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Spider, Wasp or Bee?

Moral of this story is: don’t mess with stinging insects.       (Photo by author)

We live with all sorts of varmints in neighborhood. They are mostly four-legged furry neighbors, but we also have birds, and quite a few six and eight legged visitors. For the most part we don’t bother them, and they ignore us. It’s a great relationship, at least on our part.

But last Sunday I had an encounter with one of our varmints that sent me to the Urgent Care Center 36 hours later. As I go upstairs I put my hand on the banister. Suddenly I felt a sharp sting. I screamed, of course before going downstairs to get some ice cubes to ease the pain. I didn’t bother to see what stung me, but whatever it was had a horrific sting. Yes, I probably should have said it hurt. The point is I didn’t look to see what it was. The next morning, I found a dead bee on the floor below the stairs.

I put some ice on my hand, my right hand of course as that’s the one I use most. I found some ointment intended to ease stings and smeared it on my hand as we went out the door to dinner.

But the spot was itching like crazy. There’s an old-wife’s tale that says if it itches, it’s getting better. Don’t believe it. I tried not to scratch, but it itched so bad I thought maybe that would make it get better sooner. I caught myself scratching all night, got up each time to put more ice on it and went back to sleep. The next time my whole hand was swollen and bruised, but I figured I brought that on. When I awoke on Tuesday morning, my index finger of my right hand looked like it had a pond of blood under the skin.

At that point every doctor in town was busy so I went to Urgent Care. I was delighted with their professional staff, the cleanliness of the facility, and the short wait time. It’s an infection, I got a shot, and was sent home with medicines.

On the way home, I thought of the immense changes in medicines over the years. When I was a child, my mother would have taken me to the drug store where one of the druggists would have handed over a potion and a bottle of pills.

When anyone stubbed a toe or mashed a finger, my dad dug into his pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. While I never told him when that happened to me, I know he took his pocket knife and drilled a tiny hole at the end of the nail. A drop or two of blood spurted out, then the nail stayed on the toe or finger nail.

One of my grandmothers believed strongly in Vicks Vapor Rub while the other one swore by Mentholatum. Thanks goodness they lived forty-five miles apart and seldom if ever were both there at the same time my brother or I were sick.

The swelling in going down on my hand and palm. It still itches, but if mother knew what she was talking about, my finger is getting so much better.

Guess who I’m calling today? I’ll get on the waiting list for an exterminator.

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Alert

The Hunt County Historical Commission will honor the men in Hunt County who gave their lives for liberty and democracy.  On Saturday, November 10 at 11:00 A.M. we will have a short memorial service on the steps of the Hunt County Courthouse. I hope you will plan to attend.

Corporal Irvin Greene Coley served in 315th Engineers, 90th Division, AEF in the Alsace-Lorraine area of France. Mr. Coley returned safely to Bryson, Texas where he lived until 1991.

As many of you know, I have spent the last five years with my head in books about life in Europe and North America between August 4, 1914 and November 11, 1918.  While it is not unusual for me to have my head in a book, to be so specific is an exception.

My paternal grandfather served as a corporal in the 315th Engineers of the 90th Division, AEF (short for American Expeditionary Forces).  Like many veterans, he talked little about his combat months in the Alsace-Lorraine region of eastern France.  But I. G. Coley did tell about his adventures after the Armistice when he and three other men were sent out with surveying apparatus, pads of paper and lots of pencils.  Their task was to “live off the land,” and map the area.  One of the four was issued a pistol, my grandfather.  To live off the land meant they needed families to feed them and give them a spot to sleep.  That was a major roadblock.

Since 1870, the Alsace-Lorraine was a part of Germany.   The locals spoke German and considered themselves citizens of Germany.  So, an American doughboy who spoke no French or German knocked on the door wanting supper and a place to sleep was horrifying for all concerned.  Gradually, my grandfather learned a little German, found a source of candy for the children and food for all before mapping the area.  By July 1919 he was on his way home to Bryson, Texas.

As I listened to his stories, I wondered why he and other Americans were even there.  I began with Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman and ended with Paris 1919 by Margaret MacMillan.  In between I read more than 100 books and articles, watched videos, listened to historians and diplomats.  I know more but not all about the Great War and its causes.

But I also learned how the American people were divided concerning the War.  I learned about deadly gases used by both sides, the use of trenches until Americans arrived with a different method of waging war developed during the American Civil War.

Research into any war events is brutal on the researcher.  Many times, I had to put down my books and read an Agatha Christie novel before I could continue my research.  But it has been a gratifying experience.  I am not a military historian by any means.  I prefer to investigate the Homefront, instead of battles.  Often, I have asked myself if I could have survived what the women and children in Belgium suffered.  I don’t know the answer.

The Hunt County Historical Commission will honor the men in Hunt County who gave their lives for liberty and democracy.  On Saturday, November 10 at 11:00 A.M. we will have a short memorial service on the steps of the Hunt County Courthouse.  That’s the side facing Landon’s.  Since the official day of the Armistice is Sunday, November 11, at 11:00 A.M. we decided to move it a day earlier in order not to obstruct church services.

Everyone is invited free of charge.  Whether you had ancestors there or not, you can quietly thank these brave men.  Please try to attend.

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Dreaded Spanish Flu

It is believed that the Spanish Flu or H1N1 Flu began at Camp Funston, a training camp for U. S. soldiers at Fort Riley, Kansas. In the first wave of the epidemic, most patients recovered. Such was not the case in later months of 1918. (en.wikipedia.org)

During the Civil War, both armies battled with disease as well as enemy fire. The numbers who died from non-combat causes was about 50%. Some fifty-five years later one disease infected over 500 million people or about one-third of the world’s population. Of those infected about 40 million died world-wide.

While Civil War doctors battled such common diseases as measles and chicken pox, doctors in World War I combated a new and extremely severe pandemic known as Spanish Flu or H1N1. In both cases, there were similarities. Men in all armies were seldom immune to such epidemics that would later be controlled by vaccines. The cramped and unsanitary conditions of war also contributed to spread of disease.

Spanish Flu or Flu as it became known as, first appeared at Camp Funston, a training camp located at Fort Riley, Kansas in the spring of 1918. Symptoms included chills, fever and fatigue but patients recovered relatively quickly.

However, influenza reared its ugly head with a vengeance in the fall of 1918. Usually the victims were within the age group of 20 to 40. The symptoms from the spring outbreak, now included lungs filled with fluids. In many cases death came within days or hours.

By winter of 1918 – 1919, another round appeared when the virus finally ran its course. No known origin can be found. As World War I dragged on and American troops arrived, governments became hesitant to report numbers of casualties from battles and disease. To do so, they believed, would reveal weaknesses to enemies.

Spain remained neutral during the war. When the flu arrived there, and infected the King of Spain, the disease became known as Spanish Influenza, even though it had infected most of the world by that time. Some doctors believed it started in China where a weak strain developed earlier in the year. But doctors had their hands full coping with the dreadful disease. Origin was not as important as preventing more deaths.

It should be noted that one-half of deaths of United States soldiers was caused by flu. On the home-front in America, the disease spread rapidly. Weddings and club meeting were postponed. Churches shuttered their doors and schools closed.

At first the U. S. Department of Health advocated fresh air as a cure. Restaurants taunted new sterilization techniques. Movie theaters required patrons to spread out among the empty seats and rows. Drug stores advertised numerous remedies, mostly based on alcohol. Soon most public gathering places either voluntarily or by force closed.

Orphaned children were sent to live with distant relatives. Hospitals were overcrowded. There was a shortage of coffins. Attendance at funerals was discourage; only close family members attended services limited to fifteen minutes.

Newspapers were filled with despair. One man in north Texas who worked at a ship building plant in Virginia, and was believed to have the flu, was sent home on a train. He died on the train less that fifty miles from home. Soldiers stepping off trains suddenly collapsed on the platform.

In one northeast Texas county, a small rural school chose to erect a pole on which to fly a large American flag. In order to pay for the flag and pole, the community planned for a play while the mass closure of schools was in effect. How many were infected is unknown.

Just as quickly as the epidemic appeared, it disappeared in the winter months of 1919. Not too soon, though. An estimated 675,000 Americans died, equivalent to the number who died in the Civil War.

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Dancing in the Courthouse

Dances in Hunt County were similar to the sketch above. However, the clothing is somewhat fancier and the cabin is larger. But everyone seems to enjoy the festivities. (humbke.com)

Imagine going to a dance at the Courthouse, a dance that lasted for two or three days and nights. A dance held in a space with no furniture, only a bare floor and a few cane-backed chairs or wooden benches. A dance where everyone came, bringing food, drink, children and even babies. All participated in the festivities.

Dancing was one of the few amusements that both men and women enjoyed. It was an opportunity to visit, to dance, to meet new folks and reacquaint yourself with old friends seldom seen. Music usually came from a fiddle. Sometimes, a man with a mouth harp joined in. Musical instruments were small and easy to transport on foot, or on horseback, but rarely in a wagon. Many times, in the South, the musician or musicians were slaves who had a natural talent for music.

Not all dances were held at the courthouse. Most were in homes, several miles away from neighbors. Because there was little furniture in those log cabins, it was easy to take a table and chairs out under a tree where food was spread out. Some homes had puncheon or wooden floors, but most floors were nothing but swept dirt.

Dances took place at weddings, elections, funerals, or just for fun. When guests were so tired they could hardly stand up, they eyed up the situation and spied a place to lie down and go to sleep. And, it didn’t necessarily mean a comfortable bed. When they awoke refreshed, they picked a partner and continued dancing. Children joined in with adults. No one went home until the fiddler stopped.

Dances were popular here in Hunt County from the beginning in 1847 until the Civil War. After the war, dances continued until about the time the railroads arrived in 1880. But on the Texas frontier west of Fort Worth, these dances continued into the 20th Century. If there were not enough women and girls, men danced with men and thought nothing of it.

On December 24, 1860 six men decided to “manage” or host a Cotillion. Two of the men were single, three were married, and one seems to have been a widower. Handwritten invitations were delivered to everyone within a day’s ride of town. On the day of the event, the town was filled with people. Since a Cotillion means a dance honoring young ladies between sixteen and eighteen, it was THE social event of the season. No further details are available, but based on similar Cotillions there was delicious food, some liquor, fancy clothes from the local mercantile stores or handmade, and available musicians. The affair was held in the District Courtroom of the first brick courthouse built in 1857. It was also the last such event that occurred for more than a decade. Ominous war clouds loomed in the sky, but this was an evening of fun and peace between differing political sides.

Now skip ahead to the second decade of the twenty-first century. If you are familiar with our courthouse, we have two district courtrooms and two County-Court-At-Law courtrooms, along with a Commissioners Court in the previous jail on Johnson Street. Could we dance in any of those? Well, it would be difficult. Judge Aiken has the largest space, but everything is bolted to the floor. All are really too small to invite the entire county into town for a dance. So much for having a county dance.

Posted in Greenville, Historical tidbits, North Texas History | Leave a comment

East Texas Historical Association

Logo of the East Texas Historical Association.
(Courtesy of ETHA)

As you read this article, I will be driving down US Highway 69 from my home in Greenville, Texas, to Stephen F. Austin University in Nacogdoches, Texas. I’m heading to the Fall Conference of the East Texas Historical Association. There I will visit with old friends, meet new friends, listen to some very good speakers, and in general have a great time.

I have been a member of the organization since 2005. I definitely enjoy everything about the group. But, you ask, what do we do? We certainly do more than enjoy a fall gathering in the Piney Woods of East Texas. Sometimes we go to Galveston. In the spring, we gather at various old towns in the region.

First of all, let me explain that historians are not all history professors. While I did teach elementary school early in my career, I have never lectured in a college classroom. That’s just not my thing.

I worked for almost twelve years as the librarian in our local history and genealogy collection at the W. Walworth Harrison Public Library. I learned how to preserve old documents, records, and photographs. Thanks to modern technology, most of these papers can now be scanned and digitized to prevent future damage from both natural and artificial light. Continuous handling damages these fragile keys to our past.

I was able to take a shoebox of old papers, photos, and sometimes bugs and end up with a nicely organized collection of memories. Of course, I now publish a blog twice a week, post an event from a Century Ago on Facebook, and am now writing my third book. But what do other historians do?

Many are college professors and high school history teachers. I know very few that are not passionate about their subject. Some are genealogists. I do a little family history, mostly of my family. In fact, I will make a presentation this Friday on how genealogy and history can work together. Both are vital to each other.

I know several historians who work in archives. They are fantastic, whether they work at local libraries, state archives, and with land records. They know their stuff, believe me. One gentleman I once met became the Marine Corps historian after writing an in-depth dissertation regarding an Army-Air Corps training base in Texas. At the time he wrote it, the Department of Defence was somewhat careful who read their records.

Other historians have a fascination for cemeteries, old homes, and all historic places. Some of them work for the state historical commission, while others teach Public History in colleges and universities. This is a fairly new field, but one with lots of exciting happenings. Stephen F. Austin University has a great program in Public History. They are active in Nacogdoches preservation.

Many museums have historians on staff. You may not see them, but behind the scene they are interpreting live in the past for us.

Finally a historian doesn’t have to have a job in a history field. There are many opportunities for re-enactors, preservation advocates, cemetery hunters and many more. If you are interested, look around your community. There’s a special nook just waiting for you.

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Railroad Picnic

Employees of the Katy Railroad on the platform of the Freight Depot, circa 1920. (Photo in Author’s collection.)

The Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad, better known as the Katy, arrived in Greenville in October 1880. Not only did it help develop Greenville as a market center, it became the final link in a network of transportation in Northeast Texas. Passengers traveled back and forth to all of the county seats as well as smaller towns along the route.

After the economic depression of 1893-1896, railways began to lure more passengers with events such as parades, baseball games, and picnics with a good deal. These events sold tickets for one-way price but actually covered the round-trip.

The Katy often gave employees company picnics with free tickets to and from the host town. Everyone associated with the Katy was welcomed unless needed for regular duties. These free entertainments lasted through the 1920s.

One such event occurred in Sulphur Springs on June 28, 1922. It included a most unusual event, a wedding starring two prominent young people of Hunt County. Pete Cain, president of the Katy Employees’ Association and the program planner for the event received a letter from a young man who proposed to marry his fiancé before the countless multitude on the picnic grounds, provided the young lady agreed, and provided, further, a significant purse was included.

The letter submitted to Mr. Cain was published in the Greenville Evening Banner of Monday, June 26, 1922 on the front page. The Banner was known as the social voice of Greenville and surrounding areas. Here is a copy of the letter. Before reading it, please note that there were no standards for spelling and grammar at that time.

“Peat Cane, MK&T Picnick Co., City. Dere Sir – I seed by the papers that you is agoin to have a picknick at Sulphur Spreengs June 28. On you bilposters I seen you is agoin to give lots of prizes and I want to ask you wun kwestyn. Me an’ my gal air agoin to git married sune and I thot you mite give us a good prize to git married at the picknick. She an’ me air agoin down on the fust trane and if you be agoin too I’ll make you ackwainted. I sure am glad it only costs wun price to go and cum cause I aint got much money. I want you to anser this letter rite away so I kin tell my gal what you say. If she be willin to git married at the picknick we can save lots of money, even if sum peepul will laff at us. I am a hard wurkin man and need the money. I ust to work for Bill Wise (Wyse) and John Middleton and Tom East and they kin giv me a good recommend. Ans. In gen. del. So I kin git it rite away. Hopin to see you nex Wendsay I am, Yours frend.
No signature

Now was this a real letter or was it a joke the newspaper cobbled up? In 1922 Greenville had many unemployed men, in fact, there was a Soup Kitchen in town in May of 1922. Poverty was no joke. Neither was poor grammar and spelling. Even Andrew Carnegie who funded the Greenville Public Library in 1913 was a notoriously poor speller.

But was this a cruel trick played on men and women with no money. The thing that makes me consider a trickster is the correct spelling of marriage and prize and money. But I must remember there was no Spell Check in 1922.

Posted in Genealogy, Historical tidbits, North Texas History | 1 Comment

Revisiting Cherry Hill

Brigadier General Thomas N. Waul modeled his Confederate uniform shortly before his retirement from law practice in Galveston in 1893. He and his family moved to Cherry Hill, east of Greenville where he began a new career with his successful orchards at age ninety.

Two years ago, I wrote about Hunt County’s only Confederate Brigadier General who arrived here when he was ninety years old. Since that time, I have acquired more information about General Waul and his Cherry Hill farm.

Waul was born in Sumter District of South Carolina. He was educated at South Carolina College before moving to Vicksburg to study law. Waul was admitted to the bar in 1835, two years before marrying America Simmons from Georgia. Two children were born to the couple, but neither outlived their parents.

By 1850 Mr. and Mrs. Waul and their entourage settled in Gonzales County, Texas, where Waul practiced law and owned a cotton plantation on the Guadalupe River. When the Civil War broke out, Waul was appointed to the Secession Convention of Texas. There he favored frontier defenses along with a constitutional right to import slaves from any location except Africa. His political interests are readily assumed.

Waul ran for the Confederate Senate in 1861 but was defeated. He returned to Brenham and recruited Waul’s Legion, a military unit composed of infantry, cavalry, and artillery components that he funded. It was the only true Texas Legion in the Confederate Army. With 2,000 men, Waul’s Legion was assigned to Arkansas and Louisiana. As the Union Army closed in on Vicksburg in the spring of 1863, Waul’s Legion guarded the city under siege. Finally, Vicksburg surrendered on July 4, 1863 and members of Waul’s Legion were taken prisoners of war. Later the legion was exchanged and reorganized in Houston to protect Texas. At the same time, Waul was promoted to Brigadier General on September 18, 1863. He and his men participated in the Red River Campaign in 1864 and in the Battle of Jenkins’ Ferry in Arkansas where General Waul was wounded.

He returned to the Gonzales plantation after the war where in 1866, Waul was elected to the Constitutional Convention. Later he relocated to Galveston where he practiced law until his eightieth birthday. At that time, he purchased farm land in Hunt County. Instead of planting cotton, Waul chose to create an orchard filled with fruit trees, an oddity in the area.

General Waul died on July 28, 1903 at the age of 90. His funeral was held in the 8th District Courtroom in the Hunt County Courthouse to accommodate the large crowds. His body was taken by train to Fort Worth where he is buried at Oaklawn Cemetery.

Recently I received a comment concerning the Waul house. This person remembered the house stood on the farm in the 1980s before someone bought the property, razed the structure, burned and buried the historic home and grounds. This informant noted that a small structure housing a detached library was actually moved to another location, but no clue where that was.

I have always wondered why General Waul relocated from Galveston to Greenville. Over the years I have heard rumors that Mrs. Waul was addicted to laudanum, today known as morphine. It seems that General Waul believed that leaving the city and moving to a rural home would cure his wife’s addiction. I don’t know if it did or not. She died the following year and is also buried in Fort Worth.

As to the historical marker, I have found it a couple of times. It is a granite stone similar to the one on the Hunt County Courthouse square. According to the Texas Historical Commission website, the monument was placed there in 1963 by the State of Texas. Others argue it was a 1936 monument, put there during the Texas Centennial. As in many historical conundrums, it’s just hard to find the truth.

Posted in Greenville, Historical tidbits, North Texas History, Texas | 1 Comment