Goodbye to Texas?

 

There’s a song called, “Leavin’ Old Texas.” The cowboy/singer laments that they’ve roped and fenced the cattle range, “and the people there are all so strange.” Well, it’s true—the open range is fenced, the mythic days of the cowboy are gone, and some of the people in Texas are purely strange now.

But when a writer friend posted on Facebook that she didn’t understand why anyone would live in Texas and not leave, let alone move there, I jumped to our state’s defense. Possibly she was referring to the strict abortion restrictions, so much in the news with the Kate Cox case recently. Or maybe she meant the absence of gun control—no training, no screening, no license. Want to carry a concealed gun? Be our guest. Or perhaps it’s the troubles at the border with record number of illegal immigrants last month. Maybe it’s the restrictions on what can be taught in classrooms, from kindergarten through college—don’t even think of mentioning DEI, which is now outlawed. (How you can outlaw an abstract concept is beyond me, but Gov. Greg Abbott has managed it.) Maybe she meant book bans—we lead the nation in the number of titles marked for “consideration” or actually banned. There are many reasons to leave Texas for states, even countries, where there is more personal freedom and you are not forced to accept the state doctrine. (Does that echo of Nazi days? The state doctrine? Yes, it does).

I haven’t seen statistics on how many people leave Texas because of our extreme right-wing politics, but I know from personal experience—friends who have thrown their hands up in the air and said, “I’m through. I’m leaving.” Often they are couples of child-bearing age. And new corporations? Again, I don’t know statistics, but I have heard of companies that refuse to relocate here—despite our attractive tax laws and other incentives—because employees with families would not follow along.

I credit Texas’ disastrous reputation to Governor Greg Abbott, Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, and Attorney General Ken Paxton. I’m not sure what fascination these men hold for Texans, except perhaps the habit of voting Republican and a blind, inbred of fear of Democrats that makes it hard to pull any lever, mark any ballot except the red one. Why would you ever vote for a man who puts razor wire in a river to injure and kill people? Or who sent poorly dressed, hungry migrants by bus across the country to a northern city where no provisions have been made for their unannounced arrival? If you live in a small town or rural area, why vote for a man who desperately wants to close the school that is the center of your community? It makes no sense.

But I digress. When I read that post, angry as I am at our state government, I immediately felt defensive, compelled to leap to the defense of Texas. I am not a native Texan, but I have lived here almost sixty years, and my two careers—as an author and as a publisher—have relied heavily on the history and literataure of this state. I feel invested in it, and I’ll be darned if a mean little man like Abbott is going to ruin Texas for me and my family.

There’s so much to treasure about our state, politics aside. We have, I suspect, the most varied landscape in the 50 states. In Texas, you can go from beach to mountains, from the stark, spare country of South Texas to the lush high plains. We have forests and pastures and rolling hills and vast expanses of empty land. Texans value their history—okay, we now pretty much agree much of the Alamo legend is in large part myth, but there’s still valuable history in the basic story. And in Sam Houston’s Runaway Scape and defeat of Santa Anna’s troops at San Jacinto. There’s history in the early cattle drives and the gradual shift from an agrarian to an urban economy in too much of the state. We have a proud and strong literary tradition, with writers who chronicled Texas history and wrote their own versions of it, from J. Frank Dobie and his pals to Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCarthy, and Elmer Kelton. Women writers too—Sarah Bird and Sandra Cisneros come to mind. Dr. Ron Tyler has given us several books documenting important artists of our state. Texas food, once mocked as brown food, can compete with upscale servings across the country. We have James Beard award-winning chefs and upscale restaurants with offerings for the sophisticated palate. We also have Tex-Mex, chili, barbecue, and down-home food.

Enough singing the praises of the state I love. My point is Texas is too wonderful to abandon to the narrow minds of right-wing politics. I am not leaving. Greg Abbott was not always governor and will not always be. I will stay to fight his inhumane policies, joining such groups as Mothers Against Greg Abbot, the Texas Democratic Party, and Beto O’Rourke’s Power to the People and speaking out whenever I feel the need. Texas needs to regain its proud reputation, and I want to help. How about you?                               

 

The story behind the title

May I tell you the story of the second battle of the Alamo? In short form?

In about 1902, Adina De Zavala, granddaughter of the first vice president of the Republic of Texas and a spinster schoolteacher, was desperate to save the long barracks adjacent to the chapel at the Alamo mission. That barracks, she insisted, was where Texians and their comrades fought and died. When hotel developers from the East seemed likely to buy the property, fortune brought heiress Clara Driscoll to Adina. Clara provided the initial money to save the structure, and together the two women launched an ambitious but unsuccessful fund-raising and publicity campaign. With the help of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, of which they were both members, they finally succeeded, winning approval and funding from the State of Texas. Theirs was a magic collaboration: Adina had the passion; Clara had the money.

But the trouble wasn’t over. Adina saw the barracks as an important symbol of Texas history; Clara saw it as a shabby building that detracted from the glory of the chapel—never mind that there was no fighting in the chapel. Their once friendly relationship deteriorated into enmity, as each fought for her vision of the iconic mission’s future.

The DRT divided into two factions, and their annual meetings became so contentious they attracted the attention of state legislators and the amusement of newspaper reporters. Eventually, Adina’s group, De Zavala’s Daughters, was ousted from the DRT and she herself found it necessary to stage an occupation of the barracks, one of the more dramatic episodes in the story.

Adina triumphed but was so ostracized she was not allowed to savor her triumph. Both women went on with their lives. Adina continued to exercise her passion for historic preservation, traipsing all over East Texas looking for original missions and fighting to save the San Antonio Governor’s Palace. Clara was never again involved in historic preservation but was active philanthropically, wrote a novel and a collection of short stories, both centered on her fascination with the Alamo, and a drama set in Mexico. She became an international celebrity, hosting lavish parties in her Austin home, and then took control of the family banking and ranching empire when her father and brother died. The lives and preoccupations of both women reflected the society in which they lived, including its misogynistic and racist tendencies.

Adina pursued her passion for preservation all her long life, living into her nineties. Clara died, divorced, childless and alone, in her sixties. The two women never reconciled.

Their battle gained little attention, but the first battle spawned books, movies, songs, board games, and collectibles. The movies, especially John Wayne’s version, provide the most drama, even in the story of their filming. The story of the control of the Alamo—or responsibility—is spotty. For a hundred years, the Daughters of the Republic of Texas were in charge of maintaining the mission. But amid charges of lax supervision and poor accounting, the Texas Land Office took over the Alamo.

Today we may be witnessing the third battle of the Alamo. The Texas Land Commissioner, George P. Bush, has elaborate plans for improving the Alamo and making it more attractive to tourists. Needless to say, his plans sparked wide controversy from critics who accuse him of wanting to create a Disney spectacle, and the reconstruction plans are years behind schedule. But Adina triumphed—the long barracks survive today.

And that, my friends, is the story I tell in The Second Battle of the Alamo. I found it fascinating, and I hope you will too. Then I hope you’ll plan a trip to San Antonio—it’s a lot more fun to see the Alamo when you know the full story.

Surprise! A new book

When my neighbor, Prudence, emailed that she’d gotten my new book, The Second Battle of the Alamo, from Amazon, it came as a total surprise to me. I thought and have been telling people the publication date was March 7, at which time I’ll be in San Antonio for the annual meeting of the Alamo Society at the historic Menger Hotel. So I looked on Amazon, still thinking there must have been a flub, and it’s only available for pre-order. Not so! It released January 10.

So, woohoo! I have a new book out.

This is a book with an unusual back story. Several years ago, Texas author Susan Albert Wittig invited me to join the Work-in-Progress group of the Story Circle Network, an international network of women telling their own stories. So I became part of a small—probably ten or twelve active women—close-knit group. Debra Winegarten of Austin was one of the members. I didn’t know her but had, of course, heard of her mother, Ruthe, an author, activist and historian known primarily for her involvement with Texas and Jewish history. Debra proved in many ways to be her mother’s daughter—unabashedly Texan and Jewish.

Deb was a woman of incredible energy, an author with several projects both published and ongoing, a part-time faculty member at UT, an much-in-demand public speaker who never turned down an opportunity, and a tireless promoter who specialized in Outrageous Requests and taught the rest of us how to use them. She and I shared interests in Texas history and Jewish food, among other things. Deb was under contract to write a book about the second battle of the Alamo, but she kept getting distracted by other projects. She also kept resolving to focus, and I encouraged her because the topic really interested me.

In the winter of 2018 Debra developed some health problems—a persistent hoarseness, a chronically sore hip. She limped along, keeping her busy schedule, but in late spring x-rays revealed overwhelming malignancy throughout her body. She was immediately hospitalized.

One day in June she called me and, in her whispery voice, asked if I would write her book for her. She made one of her outrageous requests to Erin Turner, editor at Two Dot Books (Rowman and Littlefield), and Erin agreed. A new contract was issued, and Deb’s wife, Cindy, sent me a two boxes of research material and a box of books. Debra died in September, and I got her research material shortly after. The manuscript was due in May. I immersed myself in Alamo material and loved every minute of it. It was my kind of subject.

After I turned in the manuscript in March, I submitted a new proposal to Erin, and she issued a contract—more about that another time. I have ongoing sadness that Deb’s life was cut off when she was on such a roll and guilt that I profited from her death. My good friend Carol finally put it in perspective for me when I said, for the umpteenth time, that Deb had opened a door for me. “No,” she said, “she cracked the door. You opened it by doing a good job with what was given you.”

The Second Battle of the Alamo is dedicated to Deb, and the title page reads, “By Judy Alter, based on the research of Debra Winegarten.” And now you know why I’m not writing mysteries right now—I’m deep in Texas history.

The Second Battle of the Alamo is available in bookstores and at https://tinyurl.com/w7n4pe5 

Doggie visits and grocery lists

Today is the birthday of Texas, most commonly called Texas Independence Day. It celebrates the day on which 59 Texas settlers officially signed the Texas Declaration of Independence, declaring their independence from Mexico and creating the Republic of Texas. Of course, it wasn’t that easily done. War followed, as did the fall of the Alamo and the Battle of San Jacinto, so it was April before Texans (Texians as they were then called) prevailed. But it’s a day to celebrate our heritage and the great history of our state. There’s a huge temptation for me to insert a political statement here, but I will resist.

Sophie celebrated with a guest tonight. She’s used to human guests, loves them, but tonight Marj brought her rescue pup, Remy. Remy is a bit bigger than Sophie, though younger I think. At any rate, Sophie often tries to discipline the few dogs that visit, but she didn’t do that to Remy. She did, however, completely lose her cool, racing from one end of the cottage to the other while Remy looked completely puzzled. We locked them in the yard for a while, but I was truly afraid Sophie would bring down my fabric screen doors with her jumping, so we let them in. Remy was well behaved; Sophie not so much so, but she’s so irresistible.

After a while Sophie decided she needed more attention and she needed food. She began her routine of barking and growling at me. Jordan said I had to do something, but I told her every time we do, it reinforces bad behavior. So we waited it out. Soph would quiet, then flare up, then quiet. Now, at nine o’clock, Remy has gone home, and Sophie is ignoring that dinner she wanted so desperately. Somehow food for her is connected to attention. She’s now quiet and perfectly content.

An ordinary day—work, grocery store, nap. But this evening, before and after Marj’s visit, I explored recipes and came up with several I really want to try. A cream of chicken soup, from scratch and not out of the can; a lentil soup; roasted pears; dried figs reconstituted in red wine and served on a cheese board. I know it’s weird, but an evening of exploring recipes and planning a grocery list really delights me. These days I put aside a lot of recipes because it wouldn’t be practical to try to cook them in my tiny kitchen with my limited facilities. But the challenge just adds to the fun.

Watching the weather on both coasts and worrying about friends in line of the storms. In Texas today, it was nice to have sunshine and moderate temperatures, after our week of cold, wet rain, but I worry about those inline of what are being called monster storms. If you’re in either area, please take care.

Looking forward to the weekend. Hope it’s a good one for you.