Steamsloop Brooklyn

©2012 Steve Hathcock

Jim Lee sent me the following email awhile back: “Hi Steve, I have heard of a ship called the Louzon, that was deliberately sunk right off or beside the railroad pier at Point Isabel, (Port Isabel Texas) during the Civil War. There are still some ebony support posts underwater and scattered remains of a wooden ship, according to a scuba diver I know. Can you tell me anything about this?”

Thanks,

Jim Lee

Hi Jim, I have searched for any mention of Louzon, but I find no ship of that name, serving in either the Union or Confederate Navies. However, I did uncover a largely forgotten but similar incident that took place during the early summer of 1863.

Point Isabel Texas: 6 a.m. June 29, 1863.

May 25th, 1863: Galveston Texas. In response to reports of Confederate privateers operating out of Point Isabel, the steam sloop Brooklyn, under the command of Commodore Bell, was sent to investigate. As he sailed south towards the mouth of the Rio Grande he sighted two large schooners and two sloops anchored alongside the piers at Point Isabel. Moving several miles offshore and out of sight of land, Bell dropped anchor and waited for night to fall. At midnight, he sailed close to the bar at Brazos and launched an expedition of four boats and 87 men under Lieutenant-Commander Chester Hatfield. Their orders were to capture the vessels lying at Brazos and to spike a battery of three guns at Point Isabel. The first part of the mission went well. Meeting no resistance, the marines captured the schooner Star tied up at one of the piers (she was found deserted and without cargo or papers) and a fishing scow and two fishermen. The sun was coming up along the horizon when the Yankee sailors once again bent to the oars. Their destination lay to the west, just a short distance across the Laguna Madre.

Point Isabel from an 1864 issue of Frank Leslie's Newspaper. Note the vessels alongside the piers.

Discovering the approach of the boats, Confederate Lieutenant J. B. Ammons, of the Thirty-third Texas Cavalry, in command of a small detachment of 11 men at the Point, prepared to pullback. Outnumbered eight to one, he could not hope to win a pitched battle with the Federals. But that did not stop him from making their task more difficult. Confederate colonel Duff

Old Point Isabel Light house from a vintage postcard

remembered the affair differently. In his report to General Bee at Fort Brown, Duff wrote:“After taking possession of a small schooner which has for some time been in charge of the customs house officers, the Yankee sailors re-embarked and left. In their haste to leave they ran the stolen schooner aground and set her on fire. Lieutenant Ammons, (CSA) approached the boats sufficiently close to get a shot at the party; with what success, he is unable to report.” Further in the report, Duff apologized, writing, “I regret that the detachment of my command at Point Isabel was so small and so badly armed” …..” I am placed in a position where the services of every man in my command are required, and it is absolutely necessary that the means be placed at my disposal to render them efficient.

I have the honor to be, colonel, your obedient servant.”

JAMES DUFF,

Colonel, Thirty-third Regiment, Texas Cavalry, Commanding.          

The rebels captured at Point Isabel, assured Commodore Bell that they had neither seen, nor heard of a privateer operating from Brazos Santiago. As there were no reports of attacks against Union shipping in the area, Bell correctly assumed that his superiors were misinformed as to privateers operating out of there. In all, the Union forces captured 57 bales of cotton, 12 boxes of sundries, the sloops Kate and Blazer, the schooner Star and ten prisoners. The men, cotton and hodgepodge of supplies were loaded onto the Star and sent to Key West for adjudication. No further mention was made of the late John Newman, seaman.

The Brooklyn returned to her post off Galveston and the Union blockade continued.

Email your questions to steve@southpadretv.tv

For more information on the Point Isabel Lighthouse State Park visit the following link

http://portisabel-texas.com/blog/about/lighthouse-history/

© 2012 Steve Hathcock

Bill Keller of Monterey California wrote me; “I bought an old Padre Island postcard on Ebay recently that shows a building called the Quarantine station. Can you tell me anything about where it was located and why it was built?”

Thanks

Bill Keller

Yellow fever and Cholera outbreaks were very common in Texas during the 1800s, so much so that in 1870, the State Legislation passed an Act declaring quarantine on the Texas Coast. Each community was ordered to establish a quarantine station at a safe distance from the usual places of landing for ships.

All ships were inspected at sea, if any sign of fever or vomiting were noted the vessel would be placed under quarantine.

Locally appointed health officers, paid $10.00 a day, had absolute jurisdiction over cargo, crew and passengers of any ship docked in the harbor. If a craft from an infected port tried to land without a bill of health from the proper official they could be fined not less than $500 and not more than $5000.  Attempting to by-pass the station altogether could result in a jail sentence of two years or more. Anyone aboard a vessel under quarantine was forbidden to go ashore under penalty of $50-$500 fines. Cargo could not be landed without first undergoing fumigation. (Before the first station was built, quarantined ships were kept at anchor just inside the bar; the crew passengers and cargo were kept aboard until twenty days passed with no signs of infection had passed.)

The first quarantine station was built on Clark Island which lies to the west of Brazos Island. (The two were only separated during high tide.) The west end of Clark Island, which is almost two square miles, was about twelve feet above sea level and was covered with grasses, cactuses and stunted mesquite bushes. Four hundred yards away was a large, three foot deep channel. Small skiffs were able to approach within 100 feet of the land here and a wooden pier extended out over the water so the quarantined souls did not have to wade ashore. The facility itself consisted of a large hospital tent and seven smaller “pup” style tents for use as needed. Fifty cents was collected before each person quarantined was given a clean bill of health.

In 1882, a wooden structure (shown in your postcard) was erected on Padre Island just north of the light house which would put it somewhere near the pilings of the old causeway. This structure served as “home” for anyone suspected of being infected. Primitive as it looks, the old wooden structure was probably as comfortable a place as any to spend twenty days of quarantine. Shuttered windows could be opened wide on all sides thus ensuring any breeze could be directed through the building and the living area was perched about 10 feet off the ground. There was even a little room located atop the structure that had a wrap-around deck wide enough to walk about

Early research by Dr. W.C. Gorgas, an army physician stationed at Fort Brown proved that yellow fever was not caused by a gas rising from decaying vegetation, but from the bite of a certain type of mosquito that carried the dreaded virus in its saliva. As a result, fever bearing mosquitoes were eradicated and the occurrence of epidemics dropped dramatically. Shortly after the turn of the 20^th Century the quarantine station was closed for good. I’m not sure of what happened to the building but I believe it was destroyed in the hurricane of 1933.

© 2012 Steve Hathcock

Manta rays were once called devil fish by sailors who saw large “horns” extending forward from their heads. These horns turned out to be ingenuous scoopers which, when unfurled, guide plankton into the manta’s mouth. Manta wingspans can reach up to 20 feet, and they glide though the water like birds. The manta ray (manta birostris) has long been regarded by fishermen as dangerous. Occasionally and for unknown reasons, mantas have been known to leap onto small boats oftentimes causing considerable damage earning them the name, devilfish. Though they are distant cousins of sharks, mantas are not man eaters. Their preferred diet consists almost entirely of plankton and small fish. When mantas encounter a shoal of fish, they quickly move in to feed, swallowing as many fish as they can. Like whales, the manta rays were oftentimes hunted for their oil and abrasive skin. At one time they were very plentiful along Padre Island but overhunting as illustrated in the following and destruction of their habitat has greatly reduced their numbers.

1912: While on a fishing expedition to Tarpon Beach on the southern tip of Padre Island, a group of visiting anglers devised a six inch steel harpoon to which was attached 150 feet of rope. Armed with their lethal barb the men set off looking for one of the famed devil fish or giant mantas that frequented this part of the Gulf of Mexico.

Ed Kline, a local fisherman of some fame was hired to help the anglers find one of the giants. Around 10 o’clock that morning a huge manta was observed basking in the sun a short distance from the jetty. Its broad back rose well above the surface indicating its huge size. Quietly approaching close to the slumbering creature, Kline stood up in the boat and hurled the harpoon as hard as he could. The sharpened tip sank several inches into the flesh of the monster fish. The creature woke with a start and immediately plunged for deep water. The men hesitated as the rope fed out at their feet. Should they cut the line or take the ride. Their dilemma was solved when the wounded fish suddenly changed course and sped out into the open gulf at a speed that soon left the land behind. The monster swam out about 6 miles before circling back towards the shore. At this time, the crew of another craft attached themselves to Kline’s boat. To the amazement of the men, the added weight seemed not to affect the giant beast in the least. One by one fourteen other boats attached themselves to the line tethering the giant ray. Undeterred, the huge fish continued to dash here and there. Before long it became obvious the battle had developed into a contest of stamina. Overhead a tropical sun burned down and slowly, the fun went out of the contest.

Once the fish dragged the men some 25 miles out into the gulf and it dawned upon the men that they may be in of danger. Twice the creature set a course for the boats that foamed along behind him but fortunately passed beneath without overturning any of them. Occasionally it would come to the surface and throw itself about madly. At the end of 6 hours the men finally realized the creature might tow them about indefinitely.

A signal of distress was hoisted and the man on watch in the cupola of the Life Saving Service over on Brazos Island immediately ascertained the problem. A crew arrived shortly with a 30-30 rifle and another harpoon. The second harpoon was thrown into the creature and again it threw one of its mighty wings into the air and headed out to open sea. Incredibly, the creature continued at a rapid pace for 2 hours without seeming to tire in the least. Nine hours had passed and the exhausted men all suffered from heat prostration, thirst and hunger, but none demurred from their quest.

 It was time to use the rifle. The first shot was fired into its body and the fish immediately sank far beneath the water and headed out through the pass into open water. But the weight of the boats and men were beginning to take their toll and the creature was finally hauled to the surface where several more shots were fired into its body. That ended the struggle. A rope was attached to the body and the great fish was towed to land by one of the gasoline powered launches. It was estimated that the weight of the creature was in excess of 3000 pounds and it measured 15 feet across and 30 feet long.

Giant Manta caught off South Padre Island circa 1950s

“Altogether our fight with the monster was an experience that none of us would care to go through a second time.” One of the men later told a reporter, “In addition to the constant risk of our boats being capsized, there was something uncanny about being hauled backwards and forwards through the waters of the gulf by some hidden power of the deep. Other sea-devils were seen in the locality while we were there but we made no effort to capture any of them. One victory of that kind is enough for a lifetime.”

Email your questions to steve@southpadretv.tv or visit his website http://southpadretv.tv/

It’s surprising how we take for granted some of the most mundane inventions, such as the common button. But the button has not always been so common and few people realize they have a history dating back many thousands of years.

Primitive man used thorn and sinew, or slivers of bone, to hold their clothing together. Buttons have been known to exist as far back as the Bronze Age, when they were worn as ornamentation to decorate belts and other metal objects.

Roman "fibula" used to keep robes closed

Though the Egyptians used cloth ties, broaches or buckles to hold their clothes together, the early Greeks and Romans are generally credited with making buttons specifically to fasten clothing. Each one was handcrafted and only the rich and powerful could afford the luxury.

Men competed to see who had the largest or the most intricate buttons. They were used by nobility and made of silver and gold with exquisite paintings. They were carved, inlaid, stamped and covered with exotic fabrics. Craftsmen were hired just to make buttons. In fact, the surname, Button and its variation of Butner, both of which originated in medieval England, means maker or seller of buttons. After he succeeded Louis XII as King of France, Francis I, (1494-1547) had 13,600 gold buttons placed on a single costume.

Roman "wheel" button

Though Paul Revere was noted for producing fine silver buttons, prior to the Revolutionary War most buttons used in America were actually imported from France. At the onset of the Revolutionary War, English imports became very unpopular, so much so that the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts recommended using domestic papier-mâché buttons rather than English metal ones.

And, in 1787, an article in “Federal Manufacturers” urged against importing Birmingham buttons, recommending instead silver buttons engraved with the federal eagle, made by red-blooded American silversmiths, and wearable “for years and for lives.

When the British blockaded American ports at the onset the War of 1812, Aaron Benedict scoured the countryside, buying every pot and pan he could get in an effort to supply brass for his button mill in Waterbury, Conn.

Buttons were so expensive during the early 19th century that they would routinely be removed from worn-out clothing to be reused on new garments.

Efforts were made to find a cheaper material to manufacture buttons for the masses. Low denomination coins with loops of brass or copper soldered on one side were commonly used when no substitute could be found. These were hard to work with and labor-intensive to make, which still put them out of the reach of the ordinary citizen.

Solid gold button honoring George Washington

In 1802, Abel Porter established a company in New England to make metal buttons. The first were cast of soft metal, but the wire thread quickly wore through the metal eye. Porter eliminated the problem by casting brass wire loops in his buttons.

The firm, which later became Scovills & Company, became famous for making a set of solid gold buttons bearing a profile of George Washington in relief. The set was presented to Marquis de Lafayette during his visit to this country in 1824.

The 17 closures featured the head of George Washington and were acclaimed as masterpieces of their time. They were made of solid gold which was obtained from a single nugget unearthed in North Carolina.

Gilt buttons first showed up in America around 1810. The process was a fairly simple one. Five grains of gold per gross (144) of buttons was added to a mixture of mercury which was brushed on the brass buttons, then cooked in a furnace. Buttons could be double gilt, triple gilt, and so on, depending on the number of grains or number of brushings used. The new gilt buttons were very popular during the “golden age” of metal button making that flourished in the first half of the 19th century. Sporting buttons for the gent, military buttons for the soldier, and even livery buttons for the household servant were all beautifully crafted.

In the 1840s, hard rubber buttons were tried, but they had a tendency to become brittle with age. Celluloid, a synthetic developed to replace ivory in the manufacture of billiard balls, was first used for button making in the early 1870s. Missionaries carried buttons to the most remote corners of the earth so they could “clothe the heathens.”

The most popular buttons at the turn of the century were picture buttons often worn in long rows down the front of coats or dresses, picturing everything imaginable. During the Roaring Twenties, flappers wore garter buttons often featuring the face of Betty Boop or popular movie stars of the time.

Then there were the novelty buttons that first appeared during the Depression. The plastic button was cheap and might look like a cigarette pack or a basket of fruit or the increasingly popular Mickey Mouse.

When families gathered around the radio for entertainment, they might hear the voice of Mrs. Gertrude Patterson, a noted button collector who inspired people to begin searching attics and old pin boxes for tiny treasures. It was a diversion people could afford.

During World War II, patriotic buttons appeared: eagles, flags and stars. And in England, “blackout buttons” which radiated light became tiny heroes, attached to the lapel and back of those on the dim home-front. After the war, materials shortages resulted in buttons made of everything from paper pulp to rabbit fur.

Today, thanks to new synthetics, we find buttons of every size, shape and design imaginable, at a price we can all afford and few households don’t have a jelly jar full of old buttons just waiting to be reused.

Email your questions to steve@southpadretv.tv. For more stories by Steve Hathcock visit http://southpadretv.tv/

Steve Hathcock and Mr. Bubba Sue prepare to make some locksmith calls on South Padre Island

Well. He’s a “Wanker,” that’s for sure!

© 2012 Steve Hathcock

A Tale of Spring Break on South Padre Island

“Now don’t screw me. I waited for an hour for the last guy, and he never showed up! I only left for a minute to go to the agent that rented me this dump and when I came back they said he was already gone.”

I studied the young man in front of me. He stood about five feet seven and weighed in at approximately one hundred and fifty pounds. He was dressed in typical college jock fashion. Gaudy T-Shirt advertising some kind-a imported beer, (Having a split personality has served me well in selecting Miller Lite as my beer of choice, I can truly say “less filling AND more flavor”!) baggy floral shorts that hung to his knees, flip-flops, ROTC haircut and an attitude.  As owner of the oldest locksmith business on the Island, (Almost Always Available Locksmith) I am usually on call for the late night emergencies. His was the latest of a dozen calls I had received on the second night of so-called “Hell Week.” This is when all the Texas colleges celebrate Spring Break. South Padre Island, noted for its great beaches, close proximity to Mexico and a fairly tolerant party atmosphere, has traditionally been a Mecca for college students needing a bit of a break from exams. Throughout the month of March, the Island will host one of the longest running parties in existence to over several hundred thousand-college students. Don’t get me wrong folks; South Padre is not wide open when it comes to partying. We don’t allow speeding, drunk driving or fornicating in public. The fact is, the major beer distributors are known for addressing safe drinking issues and routinely hand out literature promoting safe driving and designated driver programs. A half dozen taxi companies are licensed to operate on the Island. The Town of South Padre’s own public transportation, “The Wave” is supplemented by the addition of several buses sponsored by local nightclubs. An enormous fleet of vans, courtesy of Baptist churches from around the state, offer free rides throughout the evening hours.

The security guards at the condo complex seemed familiar with the young man, (his driver’s license revealed his name as “Jesse”) and several followed us into the elevator. Someone had pushed all the buttons, so there was plenty of time for Jesse to tell me the following story.

 “I got back four hours ago and realized I had lost my key. So I called my rental agency and demanded a new key and they made me drive over to their office to pick it up. For as much as I’m paying for this dump, you would think that someone would have delivered it for them, but No’ooohh!” (Here the youth’s voice warbled in a high falsetto as he mocked the rental agents’ Tex-Mex accent).

“Yes sir, we can cut the key tonight, only you must wait until tomorrow when someone is here to bring it to you!” 

“Right, as if they could be counted on to cut me the right key. Before I left, I called this other locksmith, and he said he would be right over. What a butt munch! I told the security guards to tell him to wait because I wouldn’t know if I needed him until I tried out the key. Of course, that was asking too much for their limited intelligence and he was gone when I got back!”

I glanced at the two guards that had followed us into the elevator. One of them fingered his flash light in a vaguely obscene manner while the second of the two, a Barney Fife look-a like contented himself with glaring at the arrogant college student.

Unimpressed, the kid continued, “I broke a window and then I found out it was the wrong one. Then these “Dill Weeds” (here he made a gesture of contempt towards our uniformed escort) go and call the cops on me. I argued with them for an hour and a half.” Both guards were grinning now at the memory.

After eleven stops we finally arrived on Jesse’s floor. I glanced at the broken window; it was easy to see how the kid could have been confused into believing the window led into his condo. Jesse took a key out of his pocket, inserted it in the lock and turned it to the right. I could hear the solid thunk of the bolt moving and waited to see if the door would open. Jesse actually sneered as he turned to me and said, “Here, you open it, and remember, all my money’s inside and you don’t get paid unless I get in, you got that?”

I stiffened, the arrogant little bast…… A movement caught my eye and I glanced over at the guards. The larger of the two security guards, face as red as a beet had turned and walked back towards the elevator while Barney Fife contented himself with slapping the heavy Mag flashlight into his own palm. 

I tried the door and could tell that a dead bolt was still thrown. I remembered installing keyless deadbolts in this complex several years back. (A keyless deadbolt can only be operated from one side; thus, someone had to be inside to turn the lock.) Either they were still there, or…….

I glanced at the unbroken window. A tower of beer cans rose to within inches of the top of the casement. I grinned when I saw that the window was unlocked.  A quick upward tug…

Jesse looked and sounded like one of those fake monsters crushing skyscrapers in downtown Tokyo as he kicked his way through the wall of empty beer cans. Once inside, we could hear his raised voice shouting curses. A moment later, a very angry Jesse flung the front door wide. “My idiot roommate locked the door from inside! I didn’t need you at all!”

Uhmmm well, I guess he’s a bit of a “Wanker” ain’t he; I said as I extended my palm. It took a second before Jesse, who evidently was too dumb to be embarrassed, caught on and reluctantly handed me a couple of crumpled bills from a huge roll of twenties and fifties. Giggling mirthfully, the two security guards high-fived each other. All of Mudville rejoiced as we rode the elevator back to the ground floor.

Steve Hathcock is owner operator of Almost Always Available Locksmith

Giant Nomuras Jellyfish

© 2012 Steve Hathcock

In a previous post, I wrote about how beachcomber’s were startled to find the shores of South Padre Island covered in a vast carpet of Portuguese man-of-wars. See story http://southpadretv.tv/please-pass-the-jelly-1397/

The inconvenience caused by our little “purple balloons” pales though, when compared to the impact that the giant Nomura jellyfish has made on the fishing industry of Japan. The venom of this behemoth blob, which can exceed 450 pounds, can ruin a day’s catch by tainting or killing fish ensnared with them in the maze of nets used by fishermen in northwest Japan’s Wakasa Bay. http://www.squidoo.com/attack-of-the-giant-jellyfish-in-japan

A net full of Noruras Jellyfish

The 2009 swarm was one of the worst anyone has ever seen. Once considered a rarity occurring every 40 years or so, they are now almost a daily occurrence along the Japanese coastline. In one instance, the weight of the jelly filled nets capsized a 10 ton fishing trawler as the crew tried to haul in the catch. The damage caused by the jellys is estimated to be around $332 million a year. Scientists believe climate change and pollution are major factors in a worldwide explosion in the population of the more than 2000 of the world’s jellyfish species. One 2008 study estimated that over 500,000 people a year are stung by jellyfish in the Chesapeake Bay alone. Twenty to forty die each year in the Philippines from jellyfish stings.

And now we come to the “meat” of the story. The bonanza of protein has inspired entrepreneurs to concoct recipes for everything from jellyfish ice cream to pickled plum dip laced with chunks of the giant jellyfish.

After soaking the jellyfish in fresh water and refrigerating it overnight, roll up the flesh and slice it, so that you get thin julienne strips. Blanche in boiling water and then immediately immerse in chilled cold water. Repeat the blanching and then drain off all the water. Marinate these pieces with vinegar, salt, jalepenos or other spices and then let them sit in the refrigerator overnight. Drain and rinse before adding them to salads, vegetables or other sea-food dishes.

Simple ways to prepare jellyfish can be found at: http://www.jellyfishfacts.net/how-to-cook-jellyfish.html#ixzz1nn6nIcxa

Spring comes to the Rio Grand Valley. In addition to blooming Yucca Plants, Cactus and what has become something of a tradition with the springtime drought now going on into the third year in a row. We have arrived as well at a long time Valley Tradition that dates back to the construction of the Queen Isabella causeway in 1954; Spring Break. The traffic grew heavier after 1974 when the bridge was elevated and widened to four lanes.

A large part of that tradition was drinking and sunbathing on the beach, doing what comes naturally to horny college students, and attending beach concerts that at one time could reach near to a hundred thousand rowdy, drunken, vacationing matriculators. It also included at least one afternoon or evening of debauchery in Matamoros. Then in March 1989 a young student by the name of Mark Kilroy was sacrificed in a satanic ritual by a Matamoros drug running gang. The horror of that murder has been remembered ever since and traffic to Matamoros slowed. Spring Break on South Padre Island had peaked and never again would be the same. The one thing that South Padre Island had going for it, that other destinations in the United States did not, was it’s close proximity to Mexico and with it it’s 18 year old drinking age. And even that was not well enforced. There was big money in Spring Break.

Now, after all these years the issue has not gone away. In many ways it has gotten worse. The Drug War and the upsurge of criminal activity in Mexico has become an issue once again. The question is this: Where are the safe spring break destinations in Mexico, and are there even such places now?

Here is a link to a post from the Texas Department of Safety from 2011. It remains to be seen what the DPS will say this year for 2012. This was the first time the State of Texas had ever posted a travel warning.

DPS Warning – 2011

ABC News Feb 10, 2012

State Department Advisory

Check out this map from Stratfor

Looking south from Padre Grande on South Padre Island

The Portuguese Man-of-War

© 2012 Steve Hathcock

South Padre Island Inundated by Jelly Fish

Beachcomber’s were startled to find the shores of South Padre Island covered in a vast carpet of Portugese man-of-wars over the weekend and I have had several people email me their concerns. Yes, this is as many of these blue stingers  as I have ever seen stranded on our beaches but it is not uncommon for vast colonies of these “jellyfish” to drift in on the tides.

The Portuguese Man-of-War, also referred to as a siphonophore, has been described as a “floating warship,” having tentacles armed with thousands of stinging cells called, nematocysts.  It is not a single animal, like a true jellyfish; rather it is a colony of four, highly modified individuals, called polyps, who are dependent on each other for survival.

The most distinctive characteristic is its blue-purple gas filled float or sail. The float can be shaped by muscular contractions enabling the creature to sail at a slight angle downwind. The curvature of the float and the underwater resistance of the rest of the creature determine the course. The float can project either to the right or the left. Those who live in the Gulf of Mexico project to the left, meaning our Man-o-Wars float to the right.

Under normal conditions, colonies of Man-o-Wars travel with the currents and usually wash ashore during the spring to late summer. They have been known, however, to wash ashore in great numbers during and after bouts of severe weather like what we experienced here on the Island over Christmas 2004.

Man-O-Wars have a tendency to blend with their surroundings. Tentacles may break away from the colony in the surf and inflict stings just as painful as those from attached tentacles. Even dead specimens stranded on the beach can still cause stings, so keep your windows rolled up when driving on a beach littered with dead Man-O-Wars. Your tires may burst one of the sails showering you or bystanders with tentacles and other body parts of the creature.

To avoid being stung, do not touch these animals with bare skin and do not enter the water if they are present. Their stings are painful and can often require a doctor’s attention. If stinging occurs, leave the water immediately. If any part of the animal is still sticking to the skin, it should be gently lifted off with tweezers or a gloved hand. A credit card or driver’s license can also be used to gently scrape off the tentacles. This will minimize the firing of more stinging capsules. For milder stings, ice packs or local anesthetic sprays are often effective in reducing pain. In extreme cases, resuscitation may be needed and medical attention should be sought.

Some simple remedies used by locals include mixing water with baking soda or meat tenderizer. The resulting poultice will alleviate the pain from a Man O’ War sting. Papaya juice is said to do the trick to and some of the oldtimers insist that urine will neutralize the poison. Don’t rub sand into a sting, as this will only make it worse.

It is wise to be aware of these creatures, but if one is observant, you can usually avoid areas of high concentration.

To share your home remedies with us email  steve@southpadretv.tv

It may take a while, but I do answer my emails.

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A few years back I received a letter from Jim Jennings whose father was Chief Engineer of the crew dredging the Brownsville ship channel in the early thirties. A tremendous hurricane struck the coast in 1933. Old timers tell of a 30-foot tidal surge that inundated South Padre Island. The old lighthouse at Point Isabel, now Port Isabel, was crowded with area residents who watched their homes wash away in the swirling waters. The government crew visited the Island immediately after the floods and discovered the remains of the abandoned army depot at Brazos Santiago, which was located on the southern shore of the present day jetties. Jennings’s father collected a trunk full of artifacts including bullets, army issue brogans, guns, and the remains of the old barracks. The outpost appeared to have been abandoned rather hastily and Jennings could only wonder about the calamity that had occurred so many years before. Later, during dredging operations, the Government crew located the wreck of an old ship full of wine. More importantly, the men who dove on the old wreck found a massive iron bound chest lying on the sandy bottom of the Laguna Madre. They tied a float to the trunk, planning a salvage operation for the following day. As seems to be the case in these kinds of stories, they were unable to locate the float upon their return.

In closing, Jim asked,

“Do you have any ideas about what could have been in that trunk?”

Here is my reply in part;

Dear Jim,

Yes, I can tell you a little about your Dad’s amazing finds.

During the Civil War, the Union Army maintained a depot at the northern tip of Brazos Island, and as your father described, it was located right about where the stone jetties stand today. Artist, Eddie Valent, portrayed the depot as it appeared in 1865. Several medium sized vessels may be seen lying in wait for their turn to be unloaded. In the background are the government wharves, and of course the depot itself. Farther back one can see where the hospital and barracks were located. The Brazos Beacon and other facilities were located to the south along the beach area.

Pass at Brazos Santiago

The original painting hung for years in the office of Bruce Aiken, curator for the Brownsville Museum. Bruce passed away several years ago, but was, without a doubt, one of our area’s foremost experts on early military history of the lower Rio Grande Valley. He recently published a collection of his short stories titled, Bullets, Ballots and Barking Dogs. It was a small press run and sold rather quickly.

This military post was in use up to the time of the great Hurricane of 1867. The storm caught the army by surprise. It also completely destroyed the outpost at Clarksville, and the Mexican city of Bagdad, both of which were located astride the border at the mouth of the Rio Grande River. Luckily, most of the soldiers and residents escaped with their lives.

The wine ship your father found was the remains of the La Reine Des Mers. The five masted schooner struggled for several days trying to outrun a storm that sprang up in the Gulf of Mexico. It did not make it to the shelter of the bay though, and sank in sight of land in late November of 1875.

The merchantman was carrying a full load of fine French wines. Stories of the time, tell how local fishermen braved the storm in order to rescue the crew of the stricken ship. In one story, the ship’s survivors remarked on the hospitality of their new found friends who gave them food and shelter until they were able to fend for themselves. Another story, by Ford Greene, part of the crew who worked with your father, describes the loss and the rediscovery of the old ship.

The trunk your father found and then lost?

In Texas Treasure Coast, author Tom Townsend, lists $100,000.00 in gold bullion as also going down with the ship. There has been no record of the treasure ever being recovered. Who knows? It might still be out there, buried in the silt. Perhaps the line your father tied the float to, is still waving lazily in the warm currents of the Laguna Madre.

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©Steve Hathcock 2012

He stood still, whiffing at the wind. Dogs! And the scent of men drifted upon the breeze….

Now he could feel the heavy drum of hooves as they beat a tattoo upon the hot white sands. He ran, leaping and bounding along, swirling sand jetting behind him as he raced around the base of a tall dune and with a leap, was gone. But his mate was not so lucky, falling victim to a close pattern of buckshot fired from several yards distance.

The hunt had begun.

Padre Island was a lonely desolated place in the early 1930s, with only a few head of cattle grazing upon the sparse grass that grew there. With no natural enemies, coyotes multiplied to the extent of overcrowding. As food became scarce the younger coy dogs would swim across the shallow Laguna Madre to the mainland where they made enemies of farmer and stockman alike, devouring chickens and calves with impunity. Something had to be done.

The idea of the Great Coyote Drive and Round-up really belongs to one man, the late Doctor Hockaday, of Port Isabel. The plan called for teams of twenty to seventy-five-men from different communities of the Lower Rio Grande Valley. Advertisements were placed in the local newspapers and letters were sent to the five major news organizations. Twenty- four hours before the hunt, about sixty men braved the rains that had been pouring down on the area for the past several days and proceeded up the Island about 25 miles where they built a camp. It was a rough night with heavy rains threatening to swamp their tents. Would the hunt take place, Hockaday wondered as he looked out his window at dawn the following morning. His worries were banished when he peeked down the streets of Point Isabel and noted hundreds of armed men milling about near the ferries and over where the fishing boats were tied. Travel to the Island was at a premium with over 800 using the ferries. News people were quick to make arrangements with local fishermen to transport camera crews and their bulky gear across the Laguna Madre. Often times a pile of netting was the only place to sit. Another 200 traveled across in swanky private boats courtesy of members of the Shary Yacht Club. (The old Yacht Club Hotel and restaurant is still in operation to this day in Port Isabel).

The southern forty miles of the Island was marked off into 10 sections. Groups of men armed with shotguns gathered around the bases of raised platforms placed three to five miles apart. Only #2 shot, which spreads out and is non-effective over 60 yards was allowed. A good thing when you consider the close quarters the shooters would be operating in. At a prearranged time two teams, one from the camp farthest to the north and one group from the main camp on the southern tip of the Island, began moving along the first leg, or station of the hunt. The drive was so planned that the coyotes would be driven into a low area surrounded on three sides by thirty foot ridges of sand which formed a perfect amphitheater from which all could observe the slaughter. By the time the teams would meet they would have formed a solid circle of armed men about a half mile in diameter. An additional group of forty men had been placed along the shore of the Laguna Madre to prevent the possibility of any of the coyotes escaping by swimming into the waters of the bay.

Fox Movietone, Universal and Kinogram News Reel companies set up cameras and sound equipment filmed the whole proceedings from the tops of the hills surrounding the “dead” zone. There was no escape for the gypsy dogs the camera men all agreed, or so they thought, as they focused their lenses in anticipation of the coming slaughter. When Hockaday was later asked if he had seen any coyotes, he replied, “You should have been there, for I know that when I present you with the facts, supported by 500 witnesses, you will still accept them with reservations. The motion picture of course can only record what comes within the range of the lens, and the few that they were successful in filming represent only a small percentage of the total within the lines.”

By the time the first station had been completed five coyotes were seen ahead of the line, the number increasing station to station as the animals were driven down the Island. Groups of six to twelve were seen dashing through the dunes ahead of the dogs and men. Eighteen were seen in one group as they passed through a narrow draw. Realizing a trap was being set for them some of the wiser coyotes made mad dashes through the lines. Some were shot outright while many fell under the snarling teeth of specially trained grey hounds but many more escaped. The organizers had not counted on the lack of discipline among the volunteer sharpshooters. In order to avoid walking in soft sands, across marshy swales or over towering dunes, many of the hunters walked along the easiest routes which allowed great holes to form in their lines. The wily coyote were quick to exploit these errors and many more escaped the guns. Though the official count was 26, Hockaday estimated about 100 coyotes were actually shot or mauled by the dogs and the hunt was declared a success. As soon as the slaughter ended fast cars carried the canisters of film to the Brownsville Airport. By weeks-end the finished news reels were shown in theatres all across the country.

In an article that he penned for the August, 1931 issue of Outdoor Life Magazine, Hockaday wrote, “Soon the public can watch our roundup from the plush cushions of the theater; hear us yell until our throats are raw and see some five hundred leading sportsmen of the Rio Grande Valley’s dressed in real hunting garb, (not like studio makeup) tired and worn from walking in heavy sand and mud. They can also watch some of the best dogs in the whole United States “do their stuff”, where the object of the chase is a real live coyote putting forth all there is in him to escape and in the end of which is a battle to the death where in spite of the odds against him, the coyote is always able to make a credible showing. Quite a contrast to the race track greyhound, whose target is an artificial rabbit which he is not even allowed to catch, but is halted by a stopping carpet!”

Today, descendants of both species continue to inhabit Padre Island.