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THE
QUESTIGNORING
WARNING SIGNSSearching
for the Young County “Buried Here” Marker
“Warren Wagon Train Massacre”By
Barclay
Gibson |
| We all do it. We
try not to notice the funny noise the car has started making, or we try to think
it’s our imagination when the refrigerator doesn’t seem as cool as it used to
be, and we want to think that the drip under our water heater is just a leaky
valve. I should have recognized the warning signs when I drove up to Walter’s
house, and the first thing he said to me was, “Got anything to kill rattlesnakes
with?” Followed by, “You carry a water bottle? I don’t go anywhere without a bottle
of water.” My biggest clue for what I was in for was when he asked if I had ever
ridden on a 4-wheeler. I knew it was too late when he said, “Here’s a cushion
for you.” |
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What sparked this
interest I have in trying to locate the roughly one thousand old granite Texas
Centennial Markers that were put in place all over the state back in 1936?
I can’t say for sure. What could be easier than driving up to a historical marker
beside the road and snapping a few pictures? Nothing to it. A lot of historical
markers are like that. But one that has been the hardest, so far, to even be sure
it existed, was the Young County “Buried Here” marker. It might also be
called the “Teamsters” or “Warren Wagon Train Massacre” marker.
Buried Here; those are the first words engraved on the marker itself and
often designates the marker’s title. Searching several websites that specialize
in historical markers didn’t turn up anything. The 1938
book published by the Texas Centennial Commission doesn’t have this listing
in its index, nor does the Texas Historical Commission have a page for it. Some
local historians have heard of it. After several months of phone calls and searching
the internet, I finally found one single picture of the marker. This was the first
clue that the marker really existed. I called the photographer, also a local historian,
and after grilling me as to who I was, whom I represented, and why I wanted to
see the marker, refused to either tell me where it was or give me a phone number
of someone who would. He deemed me too much of a novice, and I was unqualified
to even see it. |
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This was a real setback
for me. Why did I want to see it? Now I wanted to see it even more. I decided
to make one more phone call. This time a very nice lady gave me a phone number;
I called it and was given another number. That was my first contact with Walter.
There was no quizzing or hesitation, just “When are you coming?” He doesn’t own
the property where the marker is located but has permission to go there. When
he asked me about the rattlesnakes, I thought, well, on all Texas
road trips I always carry extra fuel, two spares, three jacks, a shovel, first
aid kit, cell phone, bed roll, and even bug spray in case my flat is in the middle
of an ant bed. But I have nothing effective against rattlesnakes except for high
top boots, which I immediately put on. I thought I would follow him to the marker
in my truck and be on my way in fifteen minutes.
Walter said he would
drive and to get in with him. I told him how much I appreciated him taking his
time to show me the marker. He commented that he was seventy-six years old and
had nothing else to do. Judging from the immaculate condition of his house, lawn
and surroundings, I knew he had plenty to do, and he was always busy. Tropical
Storm Hermine had just left the area and had dropped several inches of rain on
her way to Oklahoma. We took off and headed down the road.
The first thing
he showed me was the aluminum historical marker set out on the highway commemorating
the death of the seven wagon teamsters back in 1871. Often these markers serve
as available replacements for the granite markers that are inaccessible. |
|
Historical Marker - Hwy 16, 8 Miles NE of Graham
|
Warren Wagon Train
MassacreOn Salt
Creek Prairie (1.5 mi. W), On May 18,1871, Kiowas and Comanches from the Fort
Sill Reservation, in present Oklahoma, attacked a train of 12 wagons owned by
Capt. Henry Warren, contractor of supplies for U.S. forts in this frontier region.
Seven teamsters were killed. The chiefs who led the raid were soon arrested, and
Satank committed suicide. In a nationally spotlighted trial at Jacksboro,
Satanta spoke with great eloquence on behalf of his people. Texas' Governor, E.
J. Davis, later commuted the death sentences given by the court. |
Next, we drove into
his son’s place. It had a very nice house and several barns. Walter noted that
he and his wife had built it, and it is now his son’s. Next door was the house
where Walter grew up, and where his granddaughter now lives with her family. This
is when he asked me if I had ever ridden a four-wheeler. I sure am glad he thought
to bring cushions; I took them both. That passenger pipe rack on the back of a
four-wheeler would have left grid marks on me for days. He grabbed two water bottles
and his mini-oxygen tank, thanks to forty years of smoking, put them in the handy
tray and said, “Hop on.”
At this point I must confess that I am not a
professional photographer, but I like to go into an area in Texas,
whether it is a ghost town, state
park or a beautiful bypassed through-truss bridge, take as many pictures
as possible, regardless of the sun or glare, and move on. My camera is nothing
fancy, and I refer to myself simply as a “drive-by photographer.” I don’t carry
a tripod or changeable lenses. Many of the accompanying photographs were shot
on the move from the back of the four-wheeler. |
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| Walter and I took
off out the back way, past an old barn and windmill, toward one of the few hills
in the area. We circled around to the north side and started to climb. There are
a lot of mesquite bushes in the area, and we dodged a lot of low hanging branches.
I kept expecting the marker to come into view at any moment. The hill wasn’t very
high, but it sure gave us a commanding view because we were so much higher than
anything else around. We got to the top and hopped off. |
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| Walter began to explain
this is where the Kiowas and Comanches from the Fort Sill Reservation
camped and were able to spy on any activity in the area, particularly the Butterfield
Stage Route traffic between Fort
Richardson near Jacksboro
and Fort Griffin north of Abilene.
There was another camp some distance to the northwest called Flat Top Mountain,
for a quite obvious reason. Whoever occupied these two locations would be in control
of the whole area. It was from this first camp in May of 1871 that the
Kiowas and Comanches attacked a wagon train killing seven teamsters. The chiefs
who led the raid were put on trial, but that is another story. |
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I was fully expecting
to see the marker nearby, but clearly it wasn’t. I asked myself if this was all
he was going to show me. Not wanting to appear unappreciative, I asked him about
it. He pointed off the southeast, maybe two miles, and said it was near one of
the pump jacks that the haze almost obscured.
As Walter and I went back
down the hill, we backtracked around to the south and again turned toward the
hill. At its base were the remains of a very well laid rock foundation about six
feet high. The second floor of the house, now gone, was wooden and was entered
from the hill. It was what we would call a split-level house today. This house
was obviously built some time after Indians ceased to be a problem in the area.
He said that Loving and Goodnight
built dipping tanks for the cattle
in preparation of their drive cattle
north. A couple who lived in the house often took Walter fishing many years ago.
I asked if we were going to see the marker now. He said yes, but that
we would take the pickup. Back at the barn I had to admit that my first experience
four-wheeling was a lot of fun. Walter handled the four-wheeler very well and
didn’t throw me off even once. Back in his pickup, as we drove back to the highway,
he asked me if I had heard of Murphy Springs. Of course, I had not. It
was a stage stand for the Butterfield Trail. Fresh horses were ready for
the stage coaches as they passed through the area. He showed me its approximate
location. The wagon train never made it to the stand that day. |
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| Turning back east
down a dirt road, we came to a gate which was unlocked. Walter noted that an oil
field pumper was probably on the property checking on oil wells. We drove in and
sure enough here came the pumper. Walter asked him to leave the gate unlocked,
and we would lock it when we left. At last, off to the right I could see the marker.
Very often these markers were just stuck in the ground without any concrete base,
and cattle liked to scratch their backs on them. Given rain soaked soil and enough
back rubbing, it was not uncommon for the 1,500 pound marker to topple over. |
Another view of the "Buried Here" Marker
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
| Walter said this one
laid flat on the ground for many years until sometime in the 1970s a group of
men were able to get permission from the land owner to stand it back up with a
concrete base and build a protective pipe fence around it. The marker looks every
bit as good today as it did the day it was delivered over seventy years ago. Even
now the back side has a soil stain that can’t be rubbed off from all those years
it laid in the dirt. |
| Walter and I locked
the gate on the way out, and he asked if I was in a hurry. This was the last marker
I had planned to see on this trip, so I had plenty of time. We continued down
the road, and he would tell me whose property we were passing. We went past the
place where his grandfather had built his first house. The old barn is about gone,
but the large rock with the road number is still standing. |
Young County History Tour Brass Marker
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
Young County History Tour Marker Text
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
| Most of the roads
we had been on were dirt and gravel, but we came upon a place where the water
was still standing. He asked me what I thought. Here we were, two men far from
anywhere. Our total age was over 140 years (you can figure pretty close to my
age), and while I still like a challenge, we knew it was best that to turn around.
If we had gotten stuck, we would have had a whole ‘nother story to tell. |
Jermyn TX - First Methodist Church Closed
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
Jermyn TX First Methodist Church Marker
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
| We came into the small
town of Jermyn, and Walter
said there was an old church off to the south. I had already seen the church on
a previous trip, but I would like to see it again. We saw the old closed and abandoned
church, slowly deteriorating. I took several pictures of the outside and noticed
one of the panels of the front door missing. He wanted to go in. |
Jermyn First Methodist Church Interior
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, April 2010 |
| The sanctuary looked
just like it did when the last service ended. Everything was same except for the
accumulating water damage from the leaky roof. The people just left and never
came back. The song books were still in the pews; the piano was still behind the
pulpit, and the Sunday School materials looked ready to be handed out. It is a
sobering thought about what is happening all over the country to small
town America. |
Jermyn First Methodist Church Piano
Photo courtesy Barclay
Gibson, 2010 |
| By the time we got
back to his house, nearly three hours had past. It was time well spent. Walter
knew nothing about me when we first spoke. I only came to see the old marker,
but he wanted to make sure I knew what the marker was all about. Thanks to Walter
and his love for the area I knew, at least a little more of the story of the Warren
Wagon Train Massacre. I couldn’t have gotten that from reading a roadside marker
for two minutes and driving on. |
One should never
ignore warning signs. In this case I am glad I embraced them. We didn’t see or
hear a single rattlesnake. We didn’t need the water or oxygen, and I am really
glad I took those cushions to sit on. Thank you, Walter, for taking the time to
put up with this “city guy” and showing him, firsthand, a portion of what made
this country so great.
© Barclay
Gibson October
1, 2010
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