Texas
There is really no good reason to ever compromise on the safety procedures in a plant. People often think that it’s not that important to follow every safety procedure, every time…until something goes wrong. Then, they know the purpose of the safety procedures. On October 23, 1989, 23 people lost their lives in a series of explosions sparked by an ethylene leak at a factory in Pasadena, Texas. It was determined that the blasts, which took place at a Phillips Petroleum Company plant, were caused by inadequate safety procedures.
The Phillips 66 Chemical Complex in Pasadena houses a polyethylene reactor that synthesizes essential chemical compounds for plastic production. This facility generates millions of pounds of plastic each day, which are then utilized in manufacturing toys and various containers. Always looking to better their bottom line, Phillips outsourced a significant portion of the plant’s essential maintenance work to reduce expenses. Fish Engineering and Construction, the main subcontractor, already had a less-than-exemplary reputation before the disaster on 
October 23rd. Previously, in August, a Fish worker-initiated maintenance on gas piping without isolating it, leading to the release of flammable solvents and gas into a work area. The resulting ignition caused the death of one employee and injuries to four others.
Then, at 1:05pm, on October 23rd, during maintenance work on the plant’s polyethylene reactor, issues emerged once more. A valve was improperly secured, leading to the release of 85,000 pounds of highly flammable ethylene-isobutane gas into the plant around 1pm. The absence of detectors or warning systems failed to alert anyone of the looming catastrophe. In under two minutes, the vast gas cloud exploded with the force equivalent to two-and-a-half tons of dynamite. The blast was heard for miles in every direction, and the ensuing fireball could be seen from at least 15 miles away. At Phillips, twenty-three workers lost their lives and an additional 130 sustained serious injuries when the initial explosion triggered a series of subsequent explosions.
The initial emergency response came from the Phillips Petroleum Company’s fire brigade, who were quickly supported by the Channel Industries Mutual Aid (CIMA) team. Collaborating governmental entities included the Texas Air Control Board, Harris County Pollution Control, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), the US Coast Guard, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), and the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).
Investigation of the disaster revealed that despite the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) citing Phillips for multiple serious safety violations in the past, a comprehensive inspection of the plant had not been conducted since 1975. Testimonies also uncovered that the plant was susceptible to disaster due to insufficient safety measures during maintenance. Nevertheless, even knowing all that, Phillips and its managers were never required to face criminal charges.
Some of the most horrific kinds of accidents that happen on the railroad are head-on collisions. In these types of accidents, it is almost always the fault of a person, commonly known as “human error.” Once in a while, the signal lights could be defective too, but that is less common than when the person responsible for watching the signal lights is “asleep” at their post, either literally or figuratively. However, on September 15, 1896, neither of these scenarios was the case. Nor was the ensuing crash a terrorist attack. It was actually a planned event. What would make a railway company purposely run two locomotives into each other, head-on? Your guess is as good as mine.
It was actually a publicity stunt. The area north of Waco, was a shallow valley near the tracks of the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas Railroad, also known as the Katy. There was no town there, so a “pop up” town, named Crush, Texas, was formed and was named after William George Crush, who was a passenger agent for the Katy. In 1895, Crush had the crazy idea of staging a train wreck as a way to generate passenger ticket sales. I’m not sure if I would want to buy a ticket for the train, if I had seen the possibility of a head-on collision come to life before my eyes, but apparently some people would. At that time, Texas, like much of the rest of the country, was in a serious economic depression, so Crush convinced the Katy company officials that his scheme would be a creative marketing ploy and attraction. I suppose we all tend to like to watch the spectacular, and a crash of that magnitude…knowing that now one would be hurt…would be interesting.
That summer, the Katy bombarded Texans with advertising for the “Monster Crash.” If they were going to purposely destroy two locomotives and the attached railcars, they wanted plenty of spectators. They put daily preparation reports in many newspapers, and the publicity even stretched beyond the state border. The two locomotives were chosen. They would use Old Number 999, which they painted green, and Number 1001, which they painted red. For a time, they two locomotives toured around to generate interest.
Thousands of Texans came out to see the locomotives during their tour, and then in early September several hundred Katy workmen began staging the town. Obviously not wanting to shut down the main line tracks for the cleanup that would have to follow the crash, they laid four miles of track off of the Waco-Dallas line that would be at a slight downward grade for both engines to the point of impact. A grandstand was constructed, along with three speaker’s stands, a bandstand, telegraph office, and a circus tent to act as a restaurant. The atmosphere was set with a huge carnival midway that featured game booths, drink stands, and medicine 
shows. And to put the final touch, they erected a special depot with a 2,100-foot platform and a sign welcoming passengers to Crush, Texas. I suppose it was similar to staging a movie these days.
It was a known fact that in most collisions of this type, the engines would force each other up into a V and the rest of the cars would accordion behind them, making a boiler explosion less likely. Still, they didn’t want to take any chances, so they set up a safety perimeter of 150 yards around the pre-determined collision point and no one would be allowed in the danger zone. Crush told reporters, “The place selected for the collision is a natural amphitheater, and nobody will have any trouble viewing the entire exhibition.”
Tickets to the event were priced at $2.00, and they expected about 20,000 prople from around the state. What they got, was 40,000 people, and some passengers had too ride on top of railcars to get to the site. On that one day, the town of Crush, Texas became the second largest city in Texas. The event was scheduled for 4pm, but since people were still coming into town, they delayed the collision by one hour. Finally, at 5pm, the two locomotives, each pulling six cars moved into position at opposite ends of the four-mile track. Finally, the spectacle was ready. Crush rode a white horse to the middle of the track, raised his white hat, then after a dramatic pause, whipped it down as the signal for the engines to start. The crowd pressed forward for a better view, and the locomotive crews jumped to safety leaving the massive 35-ton iron monsters on their 50 mile per hour course to disaster. For dramatic effect, the Katy employees had placed small charges along the rail line to create warning blasts as the locomotives passed them.
Unfortunately, Crush and Katy rail officials had underestimated just how powerful the collision would be. The trains hit with between 1 and 2 million pounds of force, and despite what the engineers thought would happen, the boilers on both exploded. The sound of the collision was deafening, and the collision filled the air with flying metal. The panicked crowds tried to run to safety. The debris, ranging from the size of a postage stamp to half a driving wheel, rained down of the crowd for about 300 yards. Sadly, not everyone would make it out alive. At least two people were killed, and several injured. Shockingly, some of the injuries occurred after the crash when spectators rushed to collect souvenirs, not realizing it would burn their hands. Waco based photographer Jervice Deane, lost his right eye to a flying bolt that lodged in his skull. Amazingly, he survived the injury.
The planned disaster was quickly cleaned up by railroad crews and souvenir hunters, and by nightfall, the town of Crush ceased to exist. For his part in all this, Katy rail officials fired George Crush that night, because they 
were anticipating a large backlash and lawsuits resulting from the larger than expected explosion. Nevertheless, the publicity stunt worked, train ticket sales increased. In a “back by popular demand” kind of move, Crush was re-hired within days. His days as a showman, however, were over. The railroad quietly settled the resulting lawsuits with cash and lifetime rail passes. Crush stayed on with the railroad until his retirement in 1940.
Our aunt, Pearl Hein has spent much of her life taking care of others. She took care of her parents, husband, children, and grandchildren. She was also worked full time…plus. It seemed that the IGA in Forsyth, Montana where she lives, couldn’t function if Pearl wasn’t there. Eventually though, came the time for her to retire. I’m sure that IGA was sorry to see her go, but she was ready. After that, she took care of her husband, Uncle Eddie Hein until his passing in 2019. A short time later, in early 2020, her son, Larry Hein also passed away. This left Pearl feeling alone, even though, she has a daughter, Kim Arani living in Texas. For the most part, the loneliness was short lived. Where Pearl hadn’t really traveled much, she now made some trips to visit Kim, and I think she has really enjoyed that, and that makes me very happy. They looked like they had a great time.
Pearl is a kind and caring woman, and she is loved by many. Her humble nature tends to make her think less of 
her own value though. I know that my family and my in-laws always loved Pearl and enjoyed spending time at her home. I only wish that she could have come to Casper more, but she always worked too hard, and didn’t often give herself the time off that she deserved. That always made me sad, because she really did deserve that time off. Pearl and Eddie always had a garden and she canned food from the garden to serve her family. Pearl was a great cook…I mean a really great cook. You never went away from her table hungry, and more likely you were too full, because you just couldn’t stop eating.
Pearl still lives in Forsyth, Montana, as do some of her grandchildren, and her siblings live nearby as well. I’m sure that is part of what keeps Pearl from moving to Texas to be nearer her daughter…that and maybe the
Texas heat. I’m not sure, but some people like that heat and others really don’t. Still, she cand go visit in the cold winter months and at least enjoy not being in the “frozen tundra” of Montana. Ok maybe it really isn’t the frozen tundra, but it often feels that way in the coldest parts of Winter. It is my firm belief, that Pearl deserves whatever she wants to make her happy. She has spent so much of her life making others happy, healthy, and blessed. Now it is time for her to do things that make her happy. Today is Pearl’s 75th birthday. Happy birthday Pearl!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Jefferson Randolph Smith was born in Georgia in 1860. As a child, he had just as much promise as any other child of that era, but Georgia wasn’t where he wanted to live his life. Maybe it was a little too tame, or maybe it was just too settled. Smith wanted something new and exciting, so as a young man, he went west. Upon his arrival in Texas, he found work as a cowboy. That was all good for a while, but Smith soon got tired of the hard work and low wages offered by the cowboy life. Basically, he was lazy, and he decided to find a different way to make a living…one that required a lot less physical labor. Smith soon discovered that he could make more money with less effort by convincing gullible westerners to part with their cash in clever confidence games. His days as a con artist began.
Smith liked swindling people, and one of his earliest methods was the “prehistoric man” of Creede, Colorado. Somehow, Smith obtained a 10-foot statue of a primitive looking human that he secretly buried near the town of Creede. Then a while later, he went back and uncovered the statue…with the addition of as much fanfare and publicity as he could muster. Once the trap was set, he began charging the public huge fees to see it. Of course, he knew it wasn’t going to take long for the public to catch on, so he wisely left town before the curious turned suspicious. I can’t imagine if he had stayed and got caught.
The nickname, “Soapy” actually came from one of his more conventional confidence games. Smith took to 
traveling around the Southwest, where he would briefly set up shop in the street selling bars of soap wrapped in blue tissue paper. The con came in when he promised the amazed crowds that a few lucky purchasers would find a $100 bill wrapped inside a few of the $5 bars of soap. Of course, there really were no $100 bills…at least not more than one. So, one of the first people to buy, would suddenly shout with pleasure and then would happily display a genuine $100 bill. Immediately, everyone else wanted a bar of the soap. Sales skyrocketed after that. The lucky purchaser, of course, was a plant, so Smith got his money back. Well, I’m sure he left town pretty quickly after that scam too.
When the Alaskan Gold Rush began, Smith headed north in 1897 to join in, but as with any other job, he had no intention of actually mining for gold. He eventually landed in the rough frontier town of Skagway and prepared to set up shop. Skagway was “short on law and long on gold dust,” making it a great place for Smith to perfect his con games. Before long, he became the head of an “ambitious criminal underworld” and fleeced thousands of gullible miners, along with his partners. As Smith’s reputation and his “con artist success” grew, the honest citizens of Skagway grew quite angry at being taken in. They were trying to build an upstanding community, after all. So, they formed a vigilante “Committee of 101” in an attempt to bring law and order to the town. Smith was quite emboldened by then, so he formed a gang of his own, named “Committee of 303” to oppose them the vigilantes.
On July 8, 1898, Smith tried to crash a vigilante meeting on the Skagway wharf. His intention was to use his “con-man skills” to persuade them that he posed no threat to the community. Now that would have been a 
good con…if he could have pulled it off. However, Smith had failed to realize just how angry the vigilantes were. When he tried to break through the crowd, Frank Reid, a Skagway city engineer, confronted him. First, the men quarreled, then they exchanged bullets. Reid shot “Soapy” Smith dead on the spot, but not before Smith had badly wounded him. Reid died 12 days later.
The funeral service for “Soapy” Smith was held in a Skagway church he had donated funds to help build. The minister chose as the text for his sermon a line from Proverbs 13: “The way of transgressors is hard.” I guess it went without saying that “the way of a con man can be death.”
There are some people who are just mean. You can’t look at it any other way. Cullen Montgomery Baker was one of those mean men…a cold-blooded and ruthless killer who left a long trail of bodies across the American Frontier. Baker was a Confederate guerrilla during the Civil War, but he didn’t want to give up the fight once the war was over, so afterward he ambushed reconstructionists, killed former slaves, and generally terrorized the states of Texas and Arkansas for four years.
Born in Weakley County, Tennessee, on June 22, 1835, to John Baker and his wife, Elizabeth, his father was an honest but poor farmer who also owned cattle. The family moved to Clarksville, Arkansas soon after he was born. Times were no better there, so in 1839, after just a few years, the family moved to Texas, eventually settling in Davis County. There, things looked like they might get better when his father received a land grant of 640 acres, but even with the acreage, the family was still poor, and because of his homespun trousers and bare feet, Cullen was teased by students at school, probably triggering his anger. Though he was a slender and withdrawn youth, he began to fight back. It was at this time, that he obtained an old pistol and a rusty but workable rifle. He practiced diligently until he was very proficient with both weapons.
At the tender age of 15 years, Baker began to drink whiskey. Emboldened by alcohol, he began to challenge both boys and men who annoyed him to “go for your guns.” As often happens when people get hooked on alcohol, he spent much of his time in saloons, where his quick temper got him into several brawls. Soon, he was well known as a hard drinker, a braggart, and generally a quarrelsome and mean-spirited young man. He almost learned his lesson in one fight, when he was knocked unconscious by a man named Morgan Culp, who hit him in the head with a tomahawk. This incident seemingly calmed his temper for a little while, or maybe scared him a little bit, but that wouldn’t last.
Baker was rather a spontaneous man, and so some weeks later, on January 11, 1854, while still wearing a head bandage from the tomahawk incident, Baker married 17-year-old Martha Jane Petty and settled down to a quiet farming life. It looked like the marriage might have been the turnaround moment for him, but he grew tired of this routine and was back to his old ways just eight months later. One night when he was out drinking, he got into an argument with a teenager named Stallcup. As the discussion devolved, Baker became enraged. He grabbed a whip and beat the boy nearly to death. For that, Baker was charged with the crime. He went to the home of witness, Wesley Bailey, and shot him in both legs with a shotgun. He then left him lying in front of his house. Bailey died a few days later, but before Baker could be arrested for the murder, he fled to Perry County, Arkansas, where he hid out at the home of his mother’s brother, Thomas Young, for almost two years.
While there, not bothering to lay low, he stabbed a man named Wartham to death in an argument about horses in 1856 and fled back to Texas. His stay in Texas was short-lived, when he learned he was still wanted for murder in the killing of Bailey, so he returned to Arkansas. While he was gone, his wife Martha gave birth to a baby girl, Louisa Jane, on May 24, 1857. Returning to Texas briefly the following year, he retrieved his wife and daughter. Unfortunately, his wife died on July 2, 1860, and Baker took their child to Sulphur County, Texas. He left her with his in-laws, and that was the last he saw of her. I’m sure his in-laws were thankful for that.
In November 1861, Baker joined Company G of Morgan’s Regimental Cavalry to fight in the Confederate Army. In July 1862, he married a second time to Martha Foster, who was unaware he was wanted for murder. Baker’s name appears on the muster roll for September-October 1862, and he actually received pay through August 31, but by January 10, 1863, he had deserted and was listed on the muster roll as such.
It was at this point that Baker joined a guerilla group called the “Independent Rangers,” loosely associated with the Confederate Home Guard. My guess is that the Confederate regular army was a little “too tame” for his kind of fighting. The guerilla group suited his style better, as their objective was to pursue and capture deserters from the Confederate Army. That work held no real interest for Baker, but it allowed him a certain measure of freedom to do what he really wanted to do, which was to take advantage of most of the men being away at war and committing atrocities of intimidation, rape, theft, and violence. Any man who had property was considered an enemy and was declared to be a Union man to Baker, and therefore fair game. The attacks in some areas became so bad that everyone who could, left the area. Then, shortly after Baker joined the “Independent Rangers,” they began an ongoing feud with another band called the “Mountain Boomers,” who were Union guerrillas…basically having their own war between the North and South. Both bands ran throughout Arkansas, robbing, burning, and murdering indiscriminately…and fighting with each other.
In November 1864, a small band of mostly old men, women, and children, who were trying to escape from the turmoil, started west with their teams and valuables. When the group crossed the Saline River in the Ouachita Mountains, Cullen Baker and the Independent Rangers caught up to them. Baker’s story was that he and his men considered the group’s attempted escape “unpatriotic,” but, in reality, they needed little reason to harass them. When the group refused to return to their homes, Baker drew his pistol and shot and killed their leader. He then assured the rest of the group that he would not kill anyone else, if they agreed to return to their homes. But being the liar he was, as soon as the settlers returned to Baker’s side of the river, he led his 
“Rangers” in shooting and killing nine other men and stealing all the valuables. The event became known locally as the Massacre of Saline.
It was at this point that the local citizens had had enough. The began to organize and make active preparations to take out the murderous gang. However, being the stellar, brave men they were, when the ruffians got word of this, they ran, taking their booty and the many horses and mules they had stolen with them.
At the end of 1864, Baker was seen in a saloon wearing a Confederate hat in Spanish Bluffs, Arkansas. He was approached by four African American Union soldiers who asked for identification. With his pistol drawn, Baker turned to face them, shooting and killing a sergeant and the three other soldiers. One report tells that when the war was over, as he was making his way home, he came upon a group of travelers in Sevier County, Tennessee. In the group was a black woman who he began to verbally harass and then shot and killed her.
Following this rampage, he settled down with his wife Martha near the Sulphur River area in southwestern Arkansas, where he became the manager of the Line Ferry. Again, this break from the violence was short-lived. Martha soon took ill and died on March 1, 1866. Apparently, Baker very much-loved Martha and grieved her loss deeply. Still, losing his second wife didn’t stop him from proposing to her 16-year-old sister, Belle Foster, just two months later. Belle rejected his proposal and instead married a schoolteacher and political activist named Thomas Orr. This enrages Baker, who began to harass Orr, trying to pick fights with the man, hitting him over the head with a tree limb, and going to his school to ridicule, curse, and threaten the man in front of his students. I’m sure Belle Foster was thankful she married the man she did, after seeing the horrible acts of the man who had married her older sister.
Reconstruction had begun in Arkansas and Texas around this time, and Baker despised the idea. He and another outlaw named Lee Rames organized a gang that operated out of the Sulphur River bottoms near Bright Star, Arkansas. Baker continued his acts of robbery and murder, along with the Rames gang. They were said to have killed at least 30 people, many of whom were outnumbered, ambushed, or shot in the back. Baker and his gang also traveled to Texas, where he killed John Salmons in retaliation for the killing of Seth Rames, who was the brother of gang member Lee Rames. Baker also killed WG Kirkman, a Reconstruction official, and a man named George W Barron, who had previously taken part as a member of a posse hunting him. Baker was “happy” to kill anyone who annoyed him, or who might have annoyed someone he knew, or might have done the slightest thing against him…real or perceived. The gang continued their outlaw spree in Queen City, Texas, and Texarkana, Arkansas.
On June 1, 1867, he returned to Cass County. In need of supplies, Baker entered the Rowden General Store, helped himself to some items without paying. The proprietor, John Rowden rode with a shotgun to Baker’s house and demanded payment. Seemingly compliant, Baker said he would come back and pay him, but on June 5, he killed Rowden instead. Again, Baker fled to Arkansas, where he recognized by a Union sergeant when he boarded a ferry. He killed the Union officer, but a private was able to get away and reported the murder. With the eyewitness account, Baker became a hunted man, pursued relentlessly by Union forces.
On July 25, 1867, following an argument with several Union Soldiers near New Boston, Texas, which quickly escalated to violence, Baker was shot in the arm in a gunfight in which he killed army Private Albert E Titus. A $1,000 reward was set for his capture, dead or alive.
In December 1867, Baker went to Bright Star, Arkansas, where he met up with several men who were planning a raid on the farm of Howell Smith. They were upset because Smith had hired several freed slaves. In the attack, one of Smith’s daughters was stabbed, another clubbed, and a black man was shot and killed. Still, Smith resisted, and in the ensuing shootout, several of the raiders were wounded, including Baker, who was shot in the leg.
On October 24, 1868, Baker and his gang were reported to have been involved in the killings of Major P J Andrews, Lieutenant H F Willis, and an unnamed black man in Little Rock, Arkansas. Wounded in the attack was Sheriff Standel.
By this time, Baker’s co-leader, Lee Rames, began to get nervous about Baker’s leadership style and felt that his actions would lead to the downfall of the entire gang. Rames defied Baker, who backed down, and the gang broke up in December 1868. All members, except “Dummy” Kirby, sided with Rames. Baker and Kirby went to Bloomburg, Texas, to the house of Baker’s in-laws in January 1869. It would be there that Cullen Baker and “Dummy” Kirby would die on January 6, 1869.
Exactly how they were killed is unknown. One version says that “his father-in-law and friends laced a bottle of whiskey and some food with strychnine and both men died from poisoning. Afterward, their bodies were riddled 
with bullets. Another version says that Thomas Orr, with whom Baker had long feuded, led a small band of men who ambushed Baker and Kirby at the Foster home, shooting and killing them.” In reality, it doesn’t matter how they died, because so many people were glad that Baker was gone, that after the men were killed, their bodies were dragged through the town of Bloomburg and then taken to the US Army outpost near Jefferson, where they were placed on public display. Thomas Orr was said to have collected some of the reward money offered for Baker. Baker was buried in the Oakwood Cemetery in Jefferson, Texas. Though he was a deserter from Morgan’s Squadron, the Confederate cavalry unit is shown on his grave marker.
Some people have romanticized him for his defense of the “Southern honor,” but the reality is that Baker was a ruthless killer who killed anyone who angered him, regardless of their loyalties. It is thought that he killed between 50-60 people, and authorities and historians alike rank him among the most ruthless killers who ever lived.
Acala, Texas was once a “thriving” community…well, ok, maybe not exactly thriving, but it the town’s “heydays” it had a population of about 100 people, who made a living raising Acala Cotton. No, it never was big, but the railroad once went through there to take the cotton crop to the market. Acala is located in Hudspeth County, Texas, approximately 34 miles northwest of Sierra Blanca and 54 miles southeast of El Paso on Highway 20. These days the population is approximately 25 people, making Acala more of a ghost town than the unincorporated community that it is technically listed as.
The area was first settled in the early 20th century. In 1917, three farmers combined their resources to plant experimental cotton near Tornillo, about 13 miles northwest of what is now Acala, Texas. Successful the first year, the men purchased more land the next year to grow irrigated cotton. Hearing about the success of these f
armers, a man named WT Young came to the area from El Paso to try his hand at cotton farming, but Young would bring much more to the area than cotton. He bought a large piece of cheap desert land near the Southern Pacific Railroad tracks southeast of Tornillo. Using mules to clear the brush and break the soil for the first time, he planted a Mexican variety of cottonseed called Acala. He was so successful that he built his own cotton gin at the site now known as Acala. It wasn’t the first cotton gin, which was built by Eli Whitney, but it was a cotton gin, and it revolutionized Acala.
The town began to grow, and a post office was established in 1925. It was operated by Mrs Julia Vaughn. By 1929, the population had doubled from 50 people to its peak of 100 people. The population varied over the years, peaking again in the late 1950s, at 100 people. Unfortunately, the town could not maintain the population, and soon declined, once again. By the 1970’s there were about 25 people. Since then, it has remained at that size. Acala is in the Fort Hancock Independent School District. Fort Hancock High School is the district’s comprehensive high school.
The United States Census Bureau first listed Acala as a census-designated place prior to the 2020 census. A 
census-designated place (CDP) is a statistical geography representing closely settled, unincorporated communities that are locally recognized and identified by name. The designation doesn’t necessarily add any importance or value to the town, however. Nevertheless, the fact that it was at one time a successful agricultural area and operated a successful cotton gin, gives it definite historical value.
After watching numerous old western shows about cattle drives, most of us would automatically assume that a chuckwagon is a staple on any cattle drive. That is not the case, however. In the early years of cattle drives, the cowboys were supposed to supply their own food, and had to survive on what they could forage and carry. With that in mind, hiring cowboys for the drive was tough. Cowboys were usually paid about $25 to $40 a month, so to have to buy food out of that too, doesn’t make cattle driving a “get rich quick” kind of job. Basically, cattle ranchers ended up with people who couldn’t get a job anywhere else, and they usually weren’t loyal or very good at their job. They might even walk off the job before the drive was over.
It was a big problem for ranchers, who needed to have reliable, as well as capable cowboys to work the drives. Finally, one rancher, a man named Charles Goodnight, while pondering the problem he had in getting good working cowboys for his cattle drive. Then, he hit upon an idea. Goodnight created a type of field kitchen covered wagon. It is unknown if the name comes from the fact that the inventor is Charles (Chuck) or if it referenced chuck as a slang term for food. “Goodnight modified a Studebaker-manufactured covered wagon, a d
urable Civil War army-surplus wagon, to suit the needs of cowboys driving cattle from Texas to sell in New Mexico. He added a ‘chuck box’ to the back of the wagon, with drawers and shelves for storage space and a hinged lid to provide a flat working surface. A water barrel was also attached to the wagon and canvas was hung underneath to carry firewood. A wagon box was used to store cooking supplies and cowboys’ personal items.” It is said that Goodnight’s main motivation for the chuckwagon, was to be able to hire a better class of cowboy and keep them throughout the cattle drive.
“Chuckwagon food typically included easy-to-preserve items such as baked beans, salted meats, coffee, and sourdough biscuits. Food would also be gathered en route. There was no fresh fruit, vegetables, or eggs available, and meat was not fresh unless an animal was injured during the run and therefore had to be killed. The meat they ate was greasy cloth-wrapped bacon, salt pork, and beef, usually dried, salted or smoked. On cattle drives, it was common for the “cookie” who ran the wagon to be second in authority only to the “trailboss.” The cookie would often act as cook, barber, dentist, and banker.” A typical trail boss made $100 to $125 a month, and the cook usually made about $60. 
The cook was vital to the cattle drive and was not to be crossed. The men were to keep their distance from the chuckwagon, because dust would get in the food. The horses left camp downwind of the chuckwagon for the same reason. No one dared take the last serving of food until they were sure that everyone had been served. To leave food on their plates was an insult to the cook. The cooks had long days…up before dawn to prepare food. After the men left for work, they cleaned up camp and washed dishes, then went to the next camp site to begin dinner for the men’s arrival. After dinner they cleaned up and went to bed. The next day would soon arrive. They more than earned their wage and the special wagon they got to use.
My husband, Bob’s uncle, Eddie Hein was a sweet man who was an encouragement to many people. His children were his pride and joy, and he would do anything in his power to make their lives better. When Larry wanted to open a mechanics shop, Eddie was totally onboard. Eddie always loved mechanics, and seeing Larry start a career in that field was pleasing to him. Eddie loved vintage cars and would have loved to spend hours working to restore them. Of course, that wasn’t feasible, so watching his same work on cars sometimes filled the mechanics gap, in his life…at least the one that existed in his latter years.
His daughter, Kim Arani had very different goals and dreams than her dad, which makes sense. Most women don’t dream of becoming a mechanic. Kim chose later to move to Texas, because she absolutely hates the Montana winters, and I can’t say as I blame her. Even though Kim lived far away know, Eddie and Pearl were very supportive of her dreams, and were very excited to attend her wedding and give the bride away. It was a dream wedding, and while Eddie had suffered a stroke prior to the wedding, he was able to make the trip and walk his daughter down the aisle…on the beach.
While Eddie was dedicated to his children, Larry and Kim, he was most dedicated to his loving wife, Pearl. When they were off work, they were together. They gardened together and worked on the house together. Their lives 
were intertwined. When Eddie had his stroke, Pearl really stepped up to make sure Eddie had everything he needed. She drove him lots of miles to do his therapy. She took care of him at home. She nursed him back to health, and Eddie was grateful. He knew he loved her from the very start, and she proved to be the best thing that ever happened to him. Today would have been Eddie’s 80th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Eddie!! We love and miss you very much!!
Years ago, when natural gas was first being used for energy, it had no odor, and so, if there was a leak, there was no warning. Natural gas was considered safe, and for the most part, it was, but when it leaked, and fumes pooled, any spark could be deadly. There is another kind of natural gas, called wet-gas that is less stable that natural gas, and probably should never have been used, but in the 1930s, the dangers were less known. Natural gas was more expensive, so sometimes consumers…mostly large consumers opted for the cheaper wet-gas to save a little money.
The Consolidated School of New London, Texas actually sat in the middle of a large oil and natural gas field. Texas is known for its oil and natural gas fields, and it wasn’t uncommon for towns to be build right in the middle of the fields. The area of New London was dominated by 10,000 oil derricks, 11 of which stood right on school grounds. The school, costing close to $1 million, was newly built in the 1930s and, from its inception, it bought natural gas from Union Gas to supply its energy needs. The school’s monthly natural gas bill averaged about $300 a month, and with such an exorbitant bill, the school officials were eventually persuaded to save money by switching over to the wet-gas lines, which were operated by Parade Oil Company. The lines ran near the school, and the cost to use them was definitely less. Wet-gas is a type of waste gas that has more impurities than typical natural gas and wasn’t as safe. Still, at the time, it wasn’t uncommon for consumers living near oil fields to use this gas.
On March 18, 1937, at approximately 3:05pm, a Thursday afternoon, school was about to end for the day, and 
the 694 students and 40 teachers at the Consolidated School were waiting for the final bell, which was to ring in 10 minutes. It was not the final bell that was heard, but rather a huge explosion and powerful explosion shook the region. The blast literally blew the roof off of the building, leveled the school. There was no warning, because back then, natural gas was odorless. Nevertheless, in the presence of the leaking fumes, a single spark…or even static electricity, had the ability to create an explosion of indescribable proportions…and that is exactly what happened. When the blast came, it could be felt 40 miles away and most of the victims were killed instantly. From all over town, and even the surrounding towns, rescue workers and even everyday citizens rushed to the scene to pull out survivors. Surprisingly, hundreds of injured students were hauled from the rubble, and some students miraculously walked away unharmed. Ten students were found under a large bookcase that, when it fell, actually shielded them from the falling building. The rescue workers quickly established first-aid stations in the nearby towns of Tyler, Overton, Kilgore, and Henderson to tend to the wounded. It was noted that a blackboard at the destroyed school was found that read, “Oil and natural gas are East Texas’ greatest natural gifts. Without them, this school would not be here and none of us would be learning our lessons.” Yes, they were, but they could also be the greatest danger.
The investigators were never able to determine the exact cause of the spark that ignited the gas, noting that it very well may have been simple static electricity. Sadly, the dangers of wet-gas came more to light because of this incident, and as a result wet gas was required to be burned at the site rather than piped away. Also, as a safety precaution, a new state law was put into place, mandating the usage of malodorants in natural gas for 
commercial and industrial use. This would provide a warning to anyone in the area of a natural gas leak, and hopefully prevent large casualties such as the ones felt in this explosion. The number of people estimated killed in the explosion is 294, but the actual number of victims remains unknown. The majority were from grades five through eleven, because the younger students were educated in a separate building, and most of them had already been dismissed from school. Many of the victims were only identified by their clothing or fingerprints, which was only available because many inhabitants of the surrounding area had been fingerprinted at the Texas Centennial Exposition the previous summer. Who could have known the importance of that exposition?
No one wants to think about an innocent person going to prison for a crime they did not commit, and I like to think that it doesn’t happen very often, but I think there was a time when it was a little more common that it is these days. While it may not happen as often these days as it used to, more and more of these wrongful incarcerations are coming to light these days, because of DNA testing. Michael Morton (born August 12, 1954) was convicted in a Williamson County, Texas court in 1986, of murdering his wife, Christine Morton. He never gave up the fight. He maintained in innocence until the end, and in the end, it was proven that he was in fact, innocent. Unfortunately, that did not mean that he was spared a prison sentence. He actually spent almost 25 years behind bars, sadly.
On the afternoon of August 13, 1986, a neighbor found 31-year-old Christine Morton beaten to death in her bed in the Williamson County, Texas, home near Austin, that she shared with Michael, a grocery store manager, and their 3-year-old son, Eric. The investigation began, and six weeks later, Morton, who had no criminal record or history of violence, was arrested for Christine’s murder. At trial, the prosecution contended Morton had slain his wife of seven years after she refused to have sex with him on the night of August 12, his 32nd birthday. Morton stated repeatedly that he had nothing to do with his wife’s death and said an intruder must have killed her after he left for work early on the morning of August 13. No witnesses or physical evidence linked Morton to the crime. There wasn’t anything circumstantial or ever really anything alleged to connect him to the crime, except that he had access to the home. Nevertheless, Michael Morton was convicted on February 17, 1987, and sentenced to life behind bars. So began his nightmare.
During his trial and subsequent time in prison, Morton’s defense team asked the state to test DNA on a variety of items, including a blood-stained bandanna found by police the day after the murder at an abandoned construction site close to the Morton home. For whatever reason, the Williamson County district attorney successfully blocked all requests for testing until 2010, when a Texas appeals court ordered that testing on the bandana take place. The team’s persistence finally paid off. The test results revealed the bandana contained Christine Morton’s blood and hair, along with the DNA of another man, Mark Alan Norwood, who was a felon with a long criminal record. Norwood had worked in the Austin area as a carpet layer at the time of the murder.
Finally, after waiting almost 25 years for real justice, Michael Morton was released on October 4, 2011. A month after Morton was freed, Norwood, who was by then 57, was arrested for Christine Morton’s killing. In March 2013, he was found guilty of her murder and sentenced to life in prison. Based on DNA evidence, Norwood also was indicted for killing a second woman, Debra Baker, whose 1988 murder in Austin had remained unsolved. Like Morton, Baker was bludgeoned to death in her bed. She lived just blocks from Norwood at the time of her murder. Michael Morton was officially exonerated in December of that year.
After a yearlong investigation into prosecutor, Ken Anderson, the State Bar of Texas filed a disciplinary petition against Ken Anderson in October 2012. By then, the prosecutor was a Texas district, elected in 2002. The Texas State Bar alleged that Anderson had withheld various pieces of evidence from Morton’s attorneys, including a transcript of an August 1986 taped interview between the case’s lead investigator and Morton’s mother-in-law, in which she stated that Morton’s then 3-year-old son, Eric had told her in detail about witnessing his mother’s murder and said his father was not home at the time. Anderson managed to pull off a plea deal to settle the charges against him. He agreed to serve 10 days in jail, perform 500 hours of community service, give up his law license and pay a $500 fine. I think that is an outrageous miscarriage of justice. He had knowingly withheld evidence that cost another man 25 years of his life. He should have had to serve the same length of time.
Morton was later able to re-establish contact with his son, who had cut ties with him when he was fifteen, because he then believed that he had not remembered the incident correctly, and it was his dad who had killed 
his mom. A further miscarriage of justice that was handed down to the elder Morton. He had not only lost 25 years of his own life, but an additional 13 years of his son’s life. Thankfully, Christine Morton’s sister adopted Eric Morton, so his dad was able to find his son when he got out of prison. When his was released, Morton lived with his parents in Liberty City, Texas for a while, before moving to Kilgore, Texas. In 2013, Morton married Cynthia May Chessman, who he met at his church.
