Langtry, Texas

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2592; A Landing A Day blog post number 1037

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N30^o 20.461’, W101^o 65.861) puts me more-or-less in southwest Texas:

Here’s my local landing map:

To check out my watershed, let’s head over to Google Earth (GE).  The Orange Dude found a road over the arroyo that apparently drains my landing location:

And, thanks, to the Texas DOT, the drainageway has a name:

So I landed in the watershed of Big Canyon.  Here’s the upstream look:

Why this is called a canyon, let alone a big canyon, is beyond me.  Heading quite a few miles south, the OD found another bridge over the same arroyo:

But now it’s called Lozier Canyon.  Here’s he upstream view:

Lozier Canyon “discharges” into the Rio Grande (55^th hit).  Here’s an oblique GE shot showing where the Lozier Canyon and the Rio Grande meet:

The OD reminded me that he could get a good look at my landing (he’s only 100 yards away):

Not a terribly exciting view:

I noticed that the road next to my landing runs right along a watershed divide (which makes sense, since there will be no drainageway crossings!):

While doing my usual internet perusal of the towns near my landing, I was somewhat discouraged until I looked at Langtry.  Wiki let me know that it was in Langtry that Judge Roy Bean resided and practiced law. 

“Judge Roy Bean” rang a bell in the back of my head – I seemed to remember writing about the Judge – so I did a quick search of my blog.  It turns out that in July 2018, I landed near Ingomar, Montana, the proud home of a restaurant & bar called the Jersey Lilly, named after an establishment of the same name founded by Judge Roy Bean in Langtry TX.

Judge Roy named his establishment after Lilly Langtry, an actress/singer who hailed from Jersey, one of the Channel Islands between England and France.  Her nickname as a well-known vaudeville performer (and heart throb) was Jersey Lilly.  One could easily jump to the conclusion that Langtry Texas was named after Lilly Langtry, but apparently one would be wrong.  It seems that the Texas town was named after a Mr. George Langtry, who worked for the local railroad.

So why did Judge Roy Bean name his establishment after Lilly Langtry?  My guess is that since he lived in Langtry, Texas, he became curious about Lilly Langtry, who was rather well known back in the late 1800s.  Apparently the Judge often boasted of a relationship with Lilly, but in fact he never met her. 

More about the relationship between Judge Roy and Lilly in bit.  But first:  who exactly was Judge Roy Bean, and why did he become famous? 

He was born Phantly Roy Bean in Kentucky in 1830-ish, the youngest of three sons. As the three boys became young men, they headed west.   He and his oldest brother went to Mexico, where Phantly managed to get in a fight and shoot a man.  He went to San Diego, where he hooked up with his other brother.  He was involved in a shoot-out, for which he was arrested.  He escaped (and permanently dropped “Phantly” – good idea, I’d say)  and ended up in San Gabriel California.

The outbreak of the Civil War prompted Roy to move to San Antonio, and took a young Mexican wife.  He fathered 4 children, adopted a fifth, and engaged in shady business practices (heading up an organized crime ring) such that his neighborhood was known as Beanville. 

From American Cowboy.com:

The marriage didn’t last and when, in the early 1880s, the Southern Pacific Railroad arrived in West Texas on its mission to complete the Sunset Route from New Orleans to Los Angeles, Bean, leaving [escaping from?] his wife and children, moved west with railroad worker tent camps, offering “services” from his canvas-sided saloon.

As is most often the case with railroad tent cities, law and order were lacking and the Texas Rangers became hard pressed to quell the disruptive behaviors emerging from these train-stop desert towns. In response, for reasons none too obvious, Roy Bean was appointed Justice of the Peace in then-Pecos County on Aug. 2, 1882.  Judge Roy declared himself the “Law West of the Pecos.”

From Legends of America.com, here’s an example of Judge Roy’s justice:

Despite the protest of Texas Rangers, Bean thought it preposterous to forbid a man to carry a weapon. Bean released one man who was arrested and accused of carrying a concealed weapon with the following logic.

“That charge won’t stick,” pronounced the judge. “If he was standing still when he was arrested, he wasn’t carrying weapons because he wasn’t going no place. And, if he was not standing still, he was traveling, and it’s legal for travelers to carry weapons. Case dismissed.”

And another from Desert USA.com:

Roy Bean’s justice was not complicated by legalities; it was characterized by greed, prejudice, a little common sense and lots of colorful language.  Ruling on a minor disturbing-the-peace offense:  “It is the judgment of this court that you are hereby tried and convicted of illegally and unlawfully committing certain grave offenses against the peace and dignity of the State of Texas, particularly in my bailiwick,” was a typical Bean ruling. “I fine you two dollars; then get the hell out of here and never show yourself in this court again. That’s my rulin’.”

More from Desert USA:

In 1898, prizefighting had become illegal in most Western states, as it was in Mexico, and promoters could find nowhere to hold the world championship title bout between Bob Fitzsimmons and Peter Maher. On February 22, the Jersey Lilly was packed with 200 fight fans who, after a few rounds of drinks, followed Roy to a bridge he built to a sand bar in the Rio Grande River [and technically in neither Texas nor Mexico]. 

While law enforcement (the Texas Rangers) watched the makeshift ring helplessly from atop the bluff, Fitzsimmons decked Maher in only 95 seconds. After returning to the saloon for more drinks, the fans and sportswriters headed for El Paso, where news stories were filed to papers throughout the U.S.

This event launched the birth of the Roy Bean legend, which burgeoned after continued newspaper and dime novel accounts of his exploits, many fabricated by Roy himself. The myth of Roy Bean eventually became part of Texas folklore.

For years, Roy boasted of his “acquaintance with Miss Langtry,” and promised locals she would one day arrive and sing in Langtry. In 1896, after his first saloon was destroyed by fire, Roy rebuilt the Jersey Lilly and constructed a home for himself across the street, which he called the Opera House, anticipating the day when Lillie would perform there.

Roy never met Miss Lillie, but he often wrote her, and she is purported to have written back, even sending him 2 pistols, which he cherished till his dying day.  He told Lillie that he named the town after her.

Almost a year after his death, Lillie Langtry finally visited his old home. En route from New Orleans to Los Angeles, she stopped to listen to the townspeople tell the stories of Judge Roy Bean. Of the visit, she would later write, “It was a short visit, but, an unforgettable one.”

Contrary to the Larry McMurtry novel and movie Streets Of Laredo, Roy was not gunned down by a Mexican outlaw on the steps of the Jersey Lilly. In March 1903, Roy went on a drinking binge in Del Rio and simply died peacefully in his bed the following morning.

Today, the Jersey Lilly Saloon still stands in Langtry, Texas, along with his home and a museum.

Here’s a back-in-the-the day shot of the Jersey Lilly:

And today (from the Austin Chronicle):

Here’s Judge Roy and underlings in front of the Jersey Lilly:

There was a 1972 movie entitled “The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean,” starring Paul Newman.

It received decidedly mixed reviews. Here’s a shot from the film:

Getting ready to close things down, here’s a shot posted on GE by Maukin-The-Wise, showing Mexican cliffs along the Rio Grande near Langtry:

And another, of the Rio Grande downstream from Langtry posted by shummla 7:

No wall is needed along this stretch of the border!

And one more Rio Grande shot near Langtry, by Warren Toman:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Fort Benton, Loma, Virgelle and Carter, Montana

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2591; A Landing A Day blog post number 1036

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N4.76^o 44.816’, W10^o 36.939) puts me in central-north. Montana:

Here’s my local landing map:

Although not labeled, that’s the Missouri River coursing through my landing map. Let’s take a close look at my landing on Google Earth (GE):

What a peculiar scene!  It looks like someone (a giant, obviously) painted the landscape beige and light brown.  I figured it must be farm fields.  Taking a closer look at what I circled:

Yup.  That is (I believe) a wheat harvesting machine. 

The distinct drainage feature where I landed carries (was carved by) an unnamed tributary of Shonkin Creek:

As you can see, the Creek flows to the Missouri River (455^th hit); on, of course, to the MM (1004^th hit).

The Orange Dude was disappointed that he couldn’t get a decent look at my landing.  He was able, however, to put himself on a bridge over Shonkin Creek:

He looked downstream:

He looked upstream:

Fort Benton (pop 1,500) is far and away the largest town in the vicinity of my landing. Founded in 1846, it’s the oldest continuously-occupied settlement in Montana, established as a fur-trading post on the Missouri River.

For thirty years (1860-1890), Fort Benton was the most upriver steamboat port on the Missouri.  The trip by steamboat from St. Louis covered 2,300 miles and took at least two months.  And steamboat travel was extremely dangerous – boats sank after hitting submerged snags and sandbars, and boats caught fire after boiler explosions.  But it was still a huge business.   

From NDStudies.gov, here’s a Missouri River steamboat:

 

From Montanakids.com:

After the Civil War, steamboats gliding along on the Missouri River became a common sight. Their design was different than that of earlier steamboats — these new “mountain boats” were designed specifically for use in Montana’s rivers. They had few of the fancy fittings that the boats back east had because light weight was important on the Missouri. They were about 140 to 170 feet long and 30 feet wide. With a shallow hull, “spoon-bill” shaped bow, and broad beams, they could carry 200 tons of cargo though waist-deep water, safely navigating over anything from sandbars to whitewater rapids. In addition, this type of vessel was less expensive to fuel and much easier to steer.

These “mountain boats” meant business—literally! Steamboat captains in the late 1860s could charge as much as $1,200 every month for their services (about $22,000 in today’s dollars – $264,000 per year – not bad at all!). They had to be extremely skilled captains and a good hand at striking a deal with merchants willing to take the risks of sending their goods on the Missouri River for a huge pay off. The profits of a successful trip from St Louis to Fort Benton were more than worth it, even considering that the trip took about two to three months. The fare for each passenger was $300 ($6,500 today), plus a steamboat could carry cargo worth a profit of up to $40,000 ($860,000 today) which was a huge amount of money at the time.

And I mentioned that snags were a major threat to steamboat traffic.  There were specialized steamboats whose job it was to break apart snags.  Here’s a shot of one:

And an old-timey Montana picture of a guy enjoying the view of a Missouri River steamboat:

Moving to Loma.  From Wiki (and read this carefully!):

Loma is the location of the most extreme recorded temperature change in a 24-hour period in the United States. On January 15, 1972, the temperature rose from −54 °F to 49 °F (a 104 °F  swing) due to the arrival of Chinook winds.

AYKM? One hundred four degrees in 24-hours? HS!

Wiki also lets us know that Loma was originally called Ophir.  From Wiki:

Ophir is a port or region mentioned in the Bible, famous for its wealth. King Solomon received a cargo from Ophir every three years (1 Kings 10:22) which consisted of gold, silver, sandalwood, pearls, ivory, apes, and peacocks.

Biblical scholars have long tried to figure out where Ophir was, and there are numerous serious candidates:

• An ancient gold mining region in Saudi Arabia, which has about a million tons of “waste rock” that was left over from gold mining operations.  OK for the gold, but what about everything else?
• Sri Lanka (all of King Solomon’s cargo items are there, although it has large monkeys, not apes).
• Several regions in India (also has all of the items.)
• The Philippines
• Tunisia
• Eritrea / Djibouti (East Africa along the Red Sea)

My guess is that the treasures came from Sri Lanka and/or India (including large monkeys, not apes), and they might have picked up some extra gold in Saudi Arabia on their way to ancient Israel.

Heading downriver, we come to Virgelle, which was founded in 1912 by Virgil and Ella Blankenbaker.  Hmmmm.  I wonder where the name came from? The big draws in Virgelle are the Virgelle Mercantile and the Virgelle Ferry. Here’s a shot of the town (from CentralMT.com):

The Mercantile is the big building on the right; it’s a general store, an antique store and a bed and breakfast.  From VirgelleMontana.com:

The Virgelle Ferry is one of three very-similar ferries that cross the Missouri River in Montana.  Here’s a picture from VisitMT.com:

And another posted on GE by Gary Splittberger.  (“Hey Gary, this burger is big enough for both of us.  Wanna split it?”):

And a few words from VisitMT.com:

Ring the buzzer and the Ferry Operator will come over the river to pick you and your vehicle up. The trip is free but you ride at your own risk. The Virgelle Ferry has successfully transported over 30,000 vehicles since it was built in 1913. 

The town of Carter has a ferry as well, and VisitMT.com has a picture:

Carter Ferry

The third ferry (the Stafford Ferry) is about 50 miles downstream from Virgelle (not on my landing map).  From HiddenMT.com:

The first thing we noticed was the large ferry and cable system stretched across the wide Missouri. Second was the quaint, well-kept house sitting across the river, where the ferrymen reside. Third, the over-sized, rusted mailbox with a sign that reads, “CALL FOR SERVICE”:

What was in the mailbox? A phone? A signal flare? A bullhorn? We opened it to find a walkie-talkie and a detailed, handwritten set of instructions for how to call the operator:

I followed the directions and the radio let out a loud sequence of beeps. This sound was followed closely by a few indiscernible shouts from across the river, and a smiling ferryman meandering down to the floating platform.

When the ferry docked on our side, we loaded up the car, then stood at the rails to enjoy the slow but short trek across the Mighty Missouri:

Watching the river slowly churning under the platform against the noise of a rhythmic, humming motor produced a unique sense of calm – one I realized, in that moment, many people don’t get to experience. Upon reaching the shore, we thanked the ferryman, climbed back in the car, and headed on our way.

I’ll close with this shot posted on GE by Kk, from a bridge over the Missouri in Fort Benton:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Backwater Bridge, North Dakota

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2590; A Landing A Day blog post number 1035

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N46^o 25.748’, W100^o 41.380) puts me in south central North Dakota:

Here’s my local landing map:

Hmmm.  Nothing titular there.  Well, here’s a more meaningful map from NPR.com:

Before moving on to Backwater Bridge, I’ll finish up some of my usual somewhat-mundane business.  You can see by my local landing map that I landed in the watershed of the Cannonball River (7^th hit), on to Lake Oahe (the dammed-up Missouri, 454^th hit); on to the MM (1003^rd hit).

 I went over to Google Earth (GE), to see if I could learn more about my most-local watershed:

OK, so I landed in the watershed of a stream not identified on GE.  As is my wont, I went over to USGS:

Man.  If the USGS doesn’t come up with a name, it ain’t got one.

The Orange Dude found a bridge over the Cannonball River not far from my landing:

And here’s what he sees:

If the picture looks a little blurry, it’s ’cause the OD was shivering when he took the picture!

Less than a mile further north, the OD positioned himself on the titular Backwater Bridge (which crosses Cantapeta Creek):

And here ’tis:

When I started checking out at my landing, I had no clue about the significance of where I landed until I look at some photos posted on GE.  Here’s the one that tipped me off:

Hmm.  StandingRock.org No DAPL, eh?  Standing Rock is an Indian reservation and DAPL = Dakota Access Pipe Line.  So, about 5 years ago, this is where there was an intense protest by the Indians against the pipeline.  I’m sure we all remember when it was in the news.

I’ll repeat the NPR.com map here:

The important elements of this map:

–  The proposed route of the Dakota Access Pipeline is shown

–  Three Indian camps are shown

–  The Standing Rock Indian Reservation is south of the Cannonball River

–  At the Backwater Bridge, it says “Police and demonstrators clashed in November 2016.

North of the Backwater Bridge were the builders of the pipeline; south of the Backwater Bridge were the protesting Native Americans.

I’m heading into a serious topic here.  I’ll do my best to keep it as interesting as possible.  I think I’ll start out with the Dakota Access Pipeline.  And then move on to the Native Americans protests.

From Wiki about the pipeline:

The Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) or Bakken pipeline is a 1,172-mile-long underground oil pipeline that begins in the shale oil fields of the Bakken Formation in northwest North Dakota and continues through South Dakota and Iowa to an oil terminal near Patoka, Illinois. Together with the Energy Transfer Crude Oil (ETCO) Pipeline from Patoka to Texas, it forms the Bakken system. 

Here’s a map from the DAPL website:

The Bakken Formation is an oil-producing shale unit in northwest North Dakota.  The Bakken was not a large oil production unit until the introduction of hydraulic fracturing (fracking), combined with directional drilling.  The application of these technologies caused a boom in Bakken oil production, beginning in 2000. By the end of 2010, oil production rates had reached 458,000 barrels (about 20 million gallons) per day, thereby outstripping the pipeline capacity to ship oil out of the Bakken.

The $3.78 billion project was announced to the public in June 2014 and construction began in June 2016. The pipeline was completed by April 2017 and became commercially operational on June 1, 2017.

Protests of the Dakota Access Pipeline occurred at several places because of concerns about the pipeline’s impact to the environment and to sites sacred to Native Americans. Indigenous nations around the country opposed the pipeline, led by the Sioux tribal nations. In North Dakota, next to and on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, nearly 15,000 people from around the world protested, staging a sit-in for months.

From Wiki, about the protests:

In April 2016, youth from Standing Rock and surrounding Native American communities organized a campaign to stop the pipeline based on environmental concerns and potential impacts to ancient burial grounds and cultural sites of historic importance.  Inspired by the youth, protests expanded and camps were established near the proposed Lake Oahe (Missouri River) pipeline crossing.  The #NoDAPL hashtag began to trend on social media, and the camps at Standing Rock gradually grew to thousands of people.

Here’s a shot posted on GE street view of one of the encampments:

Conflict between water protectors and law enforcement escalated through the summer and fall. In September 2016, construction workers bulldozed a section of privately owned land which the tribe had claimed as sacred ground. When protesters trespassed into the area, security workers used attack dogs which bit at least six of the demonstrators and one horse.

In October 2016, militarized police cleared an encampment which was situated on the proposed path of the pipeline.  In November 2016, police used water cannons on protesters in freezing weather, consequently drawing significant media attention.

On the evening of November 20, protesters attempted to open Backwater Bridge which had been blocked since October 27. The bridge is about a mile south of where the pipeline developer plans to drill.

Here’s a shot posted on GE by John Padgett showing the Backwater Bridge roadblock (after the trucks were burned by the protestors):

And here are some protestors at the very same roadblock (posted on GE by mr.mr.mr). 

Here’s a shot of the encampment in winter, posted on GE by Olawaan P:

According to the sheriff’s department, the bridge was closed for safety reasons “due to damage caused after protesters set numerous fires” on it on October 27. But the protesters believe that the police used the closure to “lock them in” and that the closure blocked access for emergency vehicles coming from the north.

According to news reports, the police launched an attack on the protesters with water cannons in 28° weather, along with teargas, rubber bullets, and concussion grenades, injuring hundreds. 

A woman’s arm was seriously injured by what she and supporters claim was an explosive flash-bang grenade thrown by law enforcement, but which law enforcement suggest may have been an exploding propane canister that was in the protestors’ possession. The victim’s father stated in a press conference that his daughter had seen a police officer throw the explosive device directly at her as she was backing away.  The Morton County Sheriff’s Department denied using concussion grenades, and reported that protesters were throwing expended propane canisters at police during this period.  Law enforcement, including the FBI, are investigating the incident.

[It took until March 2022 for the FBI to complete their investigation; however, their conclusions have not been released.]

In my own words –  the violence on the bridge was the climax for the protests, which generally quieted down after that.  Just after the violence, President Obama ordered the Army Corps to halt construction and issue an environmental impact statement with “full public input and analysis” before it approves the river crossing.

From NPR.org:

Jan. 24, 2017

Newly-elected President Trump signed an executive memorandum instructing the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (the Corps) to expedite the review and approval process for the unbuilt section of the Dakota Access Pipeline.

Feb. 7, 2017

The Corps grants the easement allowing the Dakota Access Pipeline to cross under the Missouri River at Lake Oahe, north of the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. The Corps also issues a memo saying it intends to terminate the public comment period and rescind its notice of intent to prepare an environmental impact assessment.

The pipeline company immediately began construction near the crossing under the Missouri River.

Feb. 9, 2017

Two Sioux tribes (Cheyenne River & Standing Rock) ask the U.S. District Court to issue a restraining order to block construction of the final piece of the pipeline.

Feb. 13, 2017

U.S. District Judge James Boasberg denies the tribes’ joint motion, noting that oil is not yet flowing under the river.

Feb. 15, 2017

The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and Cheyenne River Sioux tribe request a summary judgement against both the Army Corps and Dakota Access LLC.

The plaintiffs cite tribal land rights under the 1868 Ft. Laramie Treaty and argue that the Corps decision to grant the easement was “arbitrary, capricious, and contrary to law.”

Feb. 17, 2017

The Corps formally terminates its environmental review in a notice published in the Federal Register.

Feb. 22, 2017

North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum sets this date as a deadline for the remaining protesters to leave an encampment on federal land near the area of the pipeline company’s construction site.

March 7, 2017

U.S. District Judge James Boasberg denies the motion by the Standing Rock Sioux and Cheyenne River Sioux tribes for a preliminary injunction against the pipeline company.

In his decision, Boasberg explains that he believes the tribes will be unlikely to prevail in their lawsuit at this point, and denies their request to either halt construction on the pipeline, or stop oil from flowing through it once it is complete.

In April 2017, pipeline construction was completed.  Whatever damage there was to cultural/historic Indian sites has been done.  The remainder of protests and legal wrangling are over environmental issues only – mainly because the Missouri River downstream from the pipeline is the source of water for the reservation. In June 2017, the pipeline became fully operational. From Wiki:

In October 2017, the Court ruled that DAPL could continue to operate while the Corps reassessed the environmental impact of the pipeline. Following the Court’s finding a statement was issued by Earthjustice Attorney Jan Hasselman, who is representing the Standing Rock Tribe.

“Today’s decision is a disappointing continuation of a historic pattern: other people get all the profits, and the Tribes get all the risk and harm. The court already found that the Corps violated the law when it issued the permits without thoroughly considering the impact on the people of Standing Rock. The company should not be allowed to continue operating while the Corps studies that threat.”

Legal back-and-forth went on for years, and continues to this day. The pipeline was briefly shut down for a time, but is operating now.

I hesitate to wade in on the various issues here. . .

From the more liberal side of my brain: On a very fundamental level, I have sympathies with the plight of Native Americans, mainly because of the injustices heaped upon them over the last 500 years (as well documented in this blog).  In addition, one could argue that because of their historic and cultural connection with the earth and the environment, the environmental claims of Native Americans should carry extra weight.

From the more conservative side of my brain: Check out this map showing all of the liquid petroleum pipelines in the United States:

There must be hundreds of river crossings. . .

Generally speaking, every leak causes environmental damage (and all pipelines leak to one extent or another), but if every environmental threat stopped every infrastructure project, absolutely nothing would be built in our country.  And like it or not, petroleum has fueled our economy and our lifestyles for well over 100 years, and will continue to do so for some number of decades hence. 

Bottom line:  I’m glad I’m not the one calling the shots . . .

Speaking of shots, I’ll close with a couple of shots posted on GE.  First this, of some countryside a few miles west of my landing by David F:

And this of the shore of Lake Oahe a few miles north of Backwater Bridge, posted by Isaac Meyer:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Mer Rouge and Bastrop, Louisiana

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2589; A Landing A Day blog post number 1034

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N32^o 46.128’, W91^o 40.329) puts me in northeast Louisiana:

Here’s my local landing map:

I had to go to Google Earth (GE) to get my local watershed:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of the East Fork Creek, on over to the Bayou Bonne Idee (1^st hit ever!).  What a great name!  For those non-Francophiles out there, “bonne idee” (pronounced bun ee-day) means good idea in French.  By the way, the only thing I could find about the name origin is that no one knows anything about the name origin.

Switching over to Street Atlas:

The Bonne Idee discharges to the Boeuf River (6^th hit). Zooming back:

From the Boeuf we’re on to Ouachita (14^th hit); to the Black (17^th hit); to the Red (74^th hit).  Although not shown, we all know that the Red more-or-less discharges to the Atchafalaya (82^nd hit).

The Orange Dude was excited that he could get close to my landing:

He was less than thrilled about what he saw:

OD: “Enough with the farm fields already!” He turned around, and noticed a nearby building across the road.  He went to take a look:

If I had to guess, I’d say the plane is a crop duster.  And that’s the runway extending out behind the building:

The OD told me he had un bonne idee (with a pretty good French accent, he actually said “J’ai un bonne idee”), and then went a couple of miles due west on the same road, to get a look at the Bayou Bonne Idee.  He saw the Bonne Idee after some serious rain:

Following that same road, just a few miles further west from the Bayou Bonne Idee is the town of Mer Rouge.  Just as I knew that “bonne idee” means good idea in French, I also knew that Mer Rouge means Red Sea.  Evidently, there was a sea of red wildflowers visible from the top of a hill near the town. 

But what really caught my eye are the street names. Look carefully:

The first thing one notices is that they’re all numbered streets.  But then it gets more peculiar.  Like the fact that N-S streets are all even-numbered and the E-W streets are odd.  I’ve never run into that convention before. 

But then it gets even stranger.  Where’s 2^nd Street?  4^th Street?  24^th Street?  26^th Street?  And why is 9^th street the lowest odd number?  And speaking of 2^nd  Street, it seems funny that 2^nd would be the eastern-most N-S street.  But then again, what would go before 2^nd Street?  Zero Street?

I can only imagine that some 19^th century surveyor laid out all of the streets (at least on paper), knowing that the center of town would be the corner of 12^th and 15^th.  When they actually got around to physically building the streets and town, they probably started there and worked out.

Well, they never made it all the way out to the edges (with the possible exception of 28^th Street).  I’ll bet there were plans for 21^st , 23^rd , and maybe more to the north.   

Wiki presented some dark history associated with Mer Rouge:

In August 1922, in a case that would attract national attention, members of the Ku Klux Klan abducted two white men—Watt Daniel and Thomas Richard—in Mer Rouge. After torturing and killing the men, the Klansmen disposed of their bodies in nearby Lake Lafourche. Following the killings, Louisiana Governor John M. Parker sought help from the U.S. Department of Justice in suppressing Klan violence within the state.

Hmmm.  Conventional wisdom has it that the KKK would be lynching black people, not white.  There must be a story here (and there is). Wiki tells us that the killings were on August 24, 1922, and that these were the 47^th and 48^th (of 61) lynchings in the U.S. for that year.  Of the 61, six were white victims.

So here’s the story.  From Wiki:

The Ku Klux Klan was extremely powerful in Louisiana since its revival in 1915. By 1924, there were 1,000,000 members of the KKK in Louisiana, with each member paying $10 ($150 in 2022) to join.

In Morehouse Parish, there was a fierce rivalry between Mer Rouge and the larger community of Bastrop. In Bastrop, there existed a shadowy Ku Klux Klan organization, Klan No 34, who maintained a powerful vigilante role.

They performed what could be termed some positive services – they frequently attacked houses of prostitution and illegal liquor sales.  But essentially, they were an organized vigilante group, operating with the backing or complicit ignorance of local government.

Some residents of Mer Rouge didn’t appreciate the influence of Klan No. 34, and were vocal critics.  They included:

• 70-year-old J.L. Daniel, a wealthy Mer Rouge landowner
• Daniel’s son Watt, a graduate of Louisiana State University
• Thomas Richards a garage mechanic and good friend of Watt
• W.C. Andrews
• C.C. Davenport

On August 24, 1922, a festival was held in Bastrop; events included a picnic and baseball game. After the event, a group of around 50 cars returned from Bastrop to Mer Rouge around 5:00 PM. At the halfway mark between the towns, the convoy was stopped by heavily armed black-robed KKK men who searched every vehicle. At gunpoint, they forced the five men [listed above] from their cars.

That was the last time Watt Daniel and Thomas Richards were seen alive. After being released in Collinston, Louisiana, a town 7.5 miles away, W.C. Andrews and J.L. Daniel later stumbled into town with whipping injuries on their back, C.C. Davenport returned unharmed.

Witnesses testified in later investigations that near Lake Lafourche they saw a truck filled with black-hooded men guarding two blindfolded men in the bed of the truck. The same witnesses later saw the same truck return minus the two blindfolded men about 45 minutes later.

Local Bastrop authorities, heavily infiltrated by the KKK, covered up the killings. Relatives of the missing had to appeal to State officials to get help in discovering the fate of the missing men.

Here’s a news clip:

Events came to a head when on December 19, 1922, Governor John Parker declared Morehouse Parish under martial law.  Divers searching for the bodies had to be guarded by Louisiana National Guardsmen. On December 24, 1922, the badly decomposed bodies of two men floated to the surface of Lake Lafourche.  Based on a belt buckle and other clothing, the men were identified as the KKK victims.

Here’s a cartoon about the murders from the December 22, 1922 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, captioned “When Klanhood was in Flower.”

Cartoon from the December 28, 1922, St Louis Post-Dispatch titled “When Klanhood Was In Flower”

At the trial, more than 50 witness testified against the defendants (all members of Klan No. 34):

However (no surprise here), the Grand Jury hearing the case had been infiltrated by Klan members.  They dismissed the case for “insufficient evidence”.

But hey.  What about the three men who were kidnapped but not killed (including two who were whipped)?   I could find nothing about the Klan being charged with kidnapping and assault.  Oh, well . . .

Moving on to Bastrop (and leaving the KKK behind), just a word about how Bastrop got its name.  From Wiki:

Bastrop was founded by the Felipe Enrique Neri, Baron de Bastrop, a Dutch businessman.  Accused as an embezzler in the Netherlands, he fled to the then Spanish colony of Louisiana to escape prosecution and became involved in various land deals.

In New Spain, he falsely claimed to be a nobleman (i.e., “Baron”). He received a large grant of land, provided that he could settle 450 families on it over the next several years. However, he was unable to do this, and so lost the grant. Afterwards, he moved to Texas.

Geez.  He hardly seems worth naming the town after.

More worthy of naming something after him was Hulon “Rocky” Whittington, a WW-II Medal of Honor Winner who spent most of his youth in Bastrop.  It’s not surprising he ended up with a nickname, eh?

Here’s his official Citation (read this carefully – it’s an amazing story):

A Congressional Medal of Honor is awarded to Hulon Whitting for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call of duty.

On the night of 29 July 1944, near Grimesnil, France, during an enemy armored attack, Sgt. Whittington, a squad leader, assumed command of his platoon when the platoon leader and platoon sergeant became missing in action.

He reorganized the defense and, under fire, courageously crawled between gun positions to check the actions of his men. When the advancing enemy attempted to penetrate a roadblock, Sgt. Whittington, completely disregarding intense enemy action, mounted the outside of a tank and by shouting through the turret, directed it into position to fire pointblank at the leading Mark V German tank.

The destruction of German tank blocked all movement of the remaining enemy column consisting of over 100 vehicles of a Panzer unit. The blocked vehicles were then destroyed by hand grenades, bazooka, and tank and artillery fire.  Large numbers of enemy personnel were wiped out by a bold and resolute bayonet charge inspired by Sgt. Whittington.

When the medical aid man had become a casualty, Sgt. Whittington personally administered first aid to his wounded men. The dynamic leadership, the inspiring example, and the dauntless courage of Sgt. Whittington, above and beyond the call of duty, are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service.

I am always happy to feature our Medal of Honor winners . . .

I’ll close with this rainbow shot, taken 5 miles SW of my landing by Kyonil McKee:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Meeteetse, Cody and Grass Creek, Wyoming

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2588; A Landing A Day blog post number 1033

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N44^o 13.510’, W108^o 54.834) puts me in northwest Wyoming:

Here’s my local landing map:

My streams-only map shows that I landed in the watershed of that perennial favorite, Stream Perennial.  (Neither Google Earth nor the USGS map had a name for this stream). 

So, Stream Perennial discharges to the Greybull River (2^nd hit).  Zooming back:

We have the Greybull discharging to the Bighorn (22^nd hit); to the Yellowstone (60^th hit); to the Missouri (453^rd hit); to the Mighty Mississippi (1002^nd hit). 

Here’s a look at my landing and my watershed on Google Earth (GE):

This stream oughta have a name!

I sent the Orange Dude to get a look at good ol’ Stream Perennial:

He couldn’t see any water, but he could see this lovely view:

He then headed down to Meeteetse for a look at the Greybull:

Speaking of Meeteetse, here’s a cool back-in-the-day shot from the town website:

Today, Meeteetse sells itself as a genuine cowboy town.  Well, I have to give them this: it does have a genuine cowboy bar – The Cowboy Bar & Grill.  This isn’t a johnny-come-lately attempt to suck in tourists; this bar was founded in 1893 and has always been the Cowboy Bar.  Well, maybe it was called the Cowboy Saloon back in 1893:

Ya gotta love the “cow” in cowboy. Here’s what it looks like now (courtesy of Alamy):

It’s time to check out Cody.  I landed just north of Cody back in January 2016.  (Wow.  This was just two weeks after my open-heart surgery to repair a faulty mitral valve. Six years later, all is well.)  Anyway, here are some excerpts from that post:

While I’ve heard of Cody WY and I’m pretty sure I knew that Buffalo Bill’s last name was Cody, but I didn’t realize the connection between the man and the town.  Until now.  I think I’ll jump right to the Cody Wyoming story before presenting some interesting tidbits about BB’s life.  From Wiki:

Cody first passed through the area that was to become Cody in the 1870s. He was so impressed by the development possibilities from irrigation, rich soil, grand scenery, hunting, and proximity to Yellowstone Park that he returned in the mid-1890s to start a town. The town was incorporated in 1901.

In November 1902, Cody opened the Irma Hotel, which he named after his daughter. He owned about 8,000 acres of land around Cody and ran about 1,000 head of cattle.  He operated a dude ranch, pack horse camping trips, and big game hunting business at and from his ranch. In his spacious ranch house, he entertained notable guests from Europe and America.

So who was this guy?  I seem to remember something about a Wild West Show.  Well, here are some Wiki tidbits:

He was born in Iowa in 1846, moved to Kansas in 1853. His father Isaac was staunch anti-slavery activist and was harassed for his stance; was stabbed twice with a Bowie knife after making an anti-slavery speech.

Isaac spent time away from home for his own safety. His enemies learned of a planned visit to his family and plotted to kill him on the way. The young Cody, despite his youth and being ill at the time, rode 30 miles to warn his father.

Cody’s father went to Cleveland, Ohio to organize a colony of thirty families to bring back to Kansas, in order to add to the anti-slavery population. During his return trip he caught a respiratory infection which, compounded by the lingering effects of his stabbing led to Isaac Cody’s death in April 1857 (when Bill was just eleven).

At age 13, he joined Johnston’s Army as an unofficial member of the scouts assigned to guide the United States Army to Utah, to put down a rumored rebellion by the Mormon population of Salt Lake City. 

[Those pesky Mormons!]

At the age of 14, in 1860 Cody was struck by gold fever, but on his way to the gold fields, he met an agent for the Pony Express. He signed with them, and after building several stations and corrals, Cody was given a job as a rider.

When he was 17, he enlisted as a Private in the Union Army, Kansas Cavalry.  He served two years.

Here’s a picture of the handsome young man at 19:

He moved to Rochester NY and got married.  He had four children, two of whom died young while still in Rochester.

In 1867 he moved back west, and hunted buffalo for the railroad. This was when he got his nickname “Buffalo Bill.”  Cody is purported to have killed 4,282 buffalo in eighteen months, (1867–1868).

[I wonder if he had at least an inkling of the fact that killing all those buffalo was not a good thing. Probably not . . . ]

In 1869, Cody met Ned Buntline who wrote a story published in the New York Weekly which was based on Cody’s adventures (largely made up by Buntline). Then Buntline published a highly successful novel, Buffalo Bill, King of the Bordermen. Buntline wrote many other sequels from 1870s through the early part of the twentieth century.

Here’s an 1875 picture (what a dude!):

In 1883, Cody founded “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West”, a circus-like attraction.  With his show, Cody traveled throughout the United States and Europe.

Shows typically began with a parade on horseback, with participants from horse-culture groups that included US military, foreign military, cowboys, American Indians, and performers from all over the world in their best attire.  Turks, Gauchos, Arabs, Mongols and Georgians, displayed their distinctive horses and colorful costumes. Visitors would see feats of skill, staged races, and sideshows. Many historical western figures participated in the show. For example, Sitting Bull appeared with a band of 20 of his braves.  Annie Oakley and Wild Bill Hickok also appeared.

Performers re-enacted the riding of the Pony Express, Indian attacks on wagon trains, and stagecoach robberies. Some shows ended with a re-enactment of Custer’s Last Stand, in which Cody portrayed General Custer.  More commonly, the finale was a portrayal of an Indian attack on a settler’s cabin. Cody would ride in with an entourage of cowboys to defend the family.

Buffalo Bill’s Wild West toured Europe eight times, the first four tours between 1887 and 1892, and the last four from 1902 to 1906.

Here’s a wistful shot of Bill in1903 at age 57.  If Springsteen were around back then, Bill would be humming “Glory Days”:

Cody died in 1917 at his sister’s home in Denver.  He was baptized into the Catholic Church the day before his death.

Phew.  Close call for Buffalo Bill’s immortal soul.

As a frontier scout, Cody respected Indians and supported their rights. He employed many, as he thought his show offered them good pay with a chance to improve their lives. He described them as “the former foe, present friend, the American”, and once said, “Every Indian outbreak that I have ever known has resulted from broken promises and broken treaties by the government.”

There you have it.  I bet that you now know more about Buffalo Bill Cody than you did a few minutes ago.

Back to now. Let’s head south to Grass Creek.  Wiki notes that the Legend Rock Petroglyph Site is nearby.  Here’s a quick video from Wyoming State Parks:

Here are photos of the three most spectacular petroglyphs:

Now wait a second.  Linger a while on this photo.  In some ways, these figures seem very child-like to my eyes.  But check out the head of the dude on the left.  And there’s a similar head off to the right.  And the figure on the far right seems to have a head sprouting from the end of an arm.    It makes me think that the art is peyote-inspired.

Here’s another:

This is more coherent, but look at the huge ears and tiny head!  I wonder what animal inspired this?

Here’s the pièce de resistance, what appears to be yet another peyote-inspired glyph:

We have a four-fingered being who seems to be inside of a larger five-fingered being. Perhaps a four-fingered fetus inside a five-fingered mother?  And another four-fingered little buddy off to the right.  And look at the “heads.” 

Imagine having a conversation with these artists.  “So, what’s going on here?” one might ask.  It’s hard to even speculate what their response might be . . . .

As my readers well know, I generally close down a post with shots lifted from GE. But this time, I’ll be lifting photos from landandfarm.com, a real estate website featuring a 425-acre property on the Greybull River near Meeteetse:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day