My
dad and I once
got stuck in
Suckersville
By
W. T. Block
Reprinted
from Beaumont
Enterprise
Saturday
September 11,
1999.
NEDERLAND—If
you were
complaining
about a
pothole in
your street,
you’d have had
much more to
complain about
in Jan. 1925
when often
there wasn’t
even a road.
The shell ran
out on
“Highways” 69
and 96 near
Pine Island
Bayou, and
beyond to
Lufkin or San
Augustine was
only dirt
road. The
State of Texas
and the nation
were not fully
convinced that
Henry Ford and
his “horseless
carriage” were
here to stay.
In
Jan. 1925, Dad
and I toured
Jasper and
Tyler counties
for the Texas
Anti-Saloon
League. It as
like a
religious
crusade, as
Dad showed a
silent,
tearjerker
film, named
“Ten Nights in
A Bar Room,”
in all the
country
churches. As a
result, all
the
bootleggers
were supposed
to see the
error of their
ways and chop
up their
whiskey
stills.
We
spent one
night in
Harmony
Settlement,
southwest of
Woodville.
Before bedding
down in the
old farmhouse
that had a
“dog trot”
down the
middle, I was
frightened as
the bear
hunters told
their stories
around the
fireplace.
About
midnight, I
remember being
rudely
awakened by a
big bear,
pursued by
yelping hounds
that pounded
his way
through the
“dog trot” in
search of
safety in the
neighboring
jungles.
A
century ago,
it seemed that
some East
Texans made a
profession out
of killing Old
Bruin if he
came within
rifle range.
Galveston Weekly
News of
Jan. 28, 1878,
observed
that: “...A.
Stephenson,
the old bear
hunter of
Southeast
Texas, killed
33 bears last
season, and so
far this
season he has
killed 49
bears...”
In
1890 Judge
Hightower was
a well-known
bear hunter in
Liberty
County. On one
occasion, he
was trailing a
big bear
through dense
jungle in the
Trinity River
bottomlands.
Suddenly he
came upon a
clearing,
where the bear
was fighting
off his dogs
with every
fang and claw,
and his
favorite hound
was dead on
the ground.
Very
quickly the
judge was
clinging to
the bear’s
back with one
hand, while
plunging his
dagger into
every vital
spot of the
bear with his
right hand.
Suddenly Old
Bruin sank to
the ground in
death, while
the judge and
the rest of
his pack
suffered only
a few
scratches.
In
March 1878, a
Galveston News
reporter wrote
about a big
bear, being
pursued by 2
men and a dog
near the Sour
Lake Hotel.
While the bear
was fighting
off the dog,
the younger
man approached
with a knife.
The bear
quickly turned
on the man and
sank his fangs
into the back
of his neck.
When
the father
approached
with a gun,
the bear rose
on his hind
legs, gave him
a hug, then
“crushed his
skull in his
mouth like an
egg shell.” At
the same
moment a
hunter named
Steele from
the hotel
arrived and
killed the
bear. The two
dead men were
Indians from
the Coushatta
encampment on
Trinity River.
While
we were
returning from
Tyler County,
our Model T
“touring car”
got stuck in a
slough, where
a week earlier
several logs
had lain to
permit easier
crossing. When
an old farmer
came up with a
yoke of oxen,
Dad asked him
what happened
to the logs in
the slough.
“Ah
sawed ‘em up
yesterday fur
farwood,” he
explained as
he discarded a
mouthful of
tobacco juice.
He then
charged us
$15, equal
then to a
week’s wages,
to pull us
out.
As
we departed up
the next hill,
Dad told the
old pioneer
that all he
needed to
obtain a
month’s wages
was about 5
more “suckers”
like us.
“Three’s
a’plenty!” the
old farmer
responded, as
he cut off
another chew
from his plug
of tobacco.
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