Friday, March 28, 2025

 HORNETS' ROW, TUSCALOOSA. (It is proper to sav that those ketches were written some three months ago, while the celebrated H rets' Row was still standing. It was the writer's purpose to print them then: but circunstances not necessary to be mentioned here prevented. Hornets' Row has been just now demolish. ed, and the readers of the TimesGazette will take these sketches mune proturne as the lawyers say.) A few days ago the TimesGazette informed its readers that the Cit y Council of Tuscaloosa had condemmned the time-smitten range of buildings known as Hornets' Row as a public nuisance and had ordered it to be demolished.

Before this pitiless decree shall it be carried into may history Hornets' Row or Hornets' Nest, as it was sometimes old times. An ancient author upbraids his -countrymen because they glorified what was old and neglected all that was new and fresh. I applaud these old Romans; for they were following a simple law of nature. To the natural man untainted with the greed of gain the distant past is full of the spirit of poetry and fine romance; the present is raw and prosaic. Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near? 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure these record sketch the past The average modern American, engrossed all his thoughts with the spirit commercialism, is apt neglect, even if he does not sneer at the memories and traditions of the glorified past.

'The average modern American is missing In this way much of the happiness that naturally belongs to man on this side of the grave. Of many events connected with the carly history of Tuscaloosa only vague tradition remains. The twilight cf uncertainty is already casting its shadow over some things that yet linger in the memory of the oldest living inhabitants. Presently the night of oblivion will come down and hide what is left. Before the Hornets' Row shall be destroyed and pass into the realm of utter forgetfulness, let me set down here a few brief notes of its interesting past history.

But where and what is Hornets' Row in Tuscaloosa? This question will certainly be asked by many of the younger generation who know but little of the antiquities of the old town. Let me answer this question first. On the west side of Monroe Street, -Monroe Street is called Twenty Third Avenue by the Mayor and Aldermen and the other Ave-noodles of the town: but the graybeards in despite of all the present day Ave-noodles, will continue to call it Monroe Street, till they die, -On the west side of Monroe Street, as I was saying, between Broad and Gotton Street, just across the way from Rob. Rodes's coal and lumber yard, there stands a long row of one story wooden offices, whose rusty sides, sway-backed mouldering roofs, and crumbling chimneys show signs of extreme old age, This is the famous Hornets' Row. There are eight apartments in all; for Robertson's iron-clad grocery store at the corner of Monroe and Cotton Streets and Tom Ferguson's fish and fruit shop and Tom Dauser's shoe shop at the other end are, comparatively speaking, hue..to circunstances mentioned TimesGazette TimesGazette time-smitten as demolished. or sometimes his neglected I for the to these is traditions missing happiness new buildings do rot belong to the original row. These tenem its are nearly old as the town of Tuscaloosa. Built m 1826, the year in which the seat of government was removel from Cahawbu to Tuscaloosa, they have been standing for more than three fourths of a century. There is no one now living who can remember them when they were spick and span new, gay with fresh plaster, white paint, green blinds.

On the border the side walk 111 front there a row of China trees which 1826 had grown so large as shade the walk from the rays the mid-day sun. Two or three these old China trees were living after the war of secession. Men of Tuscaloosa not yet can well remamher these vestiges of a past generation, their gaunt trunks hollowed o'd age hard usage, thin boughs scanty which no longand shade the by. offered passer The name Hornets' Row Hornets'-Nest was given to these offices at a very early period. the month of August, 1829 a poem was published in the Tuscaloosa Spirit of the Age entitled "The Hornets' Nest." These verses which the Hornets who then cupied these offices were celebrated by name, were written by Alexander M.

Robinson, poet lawyer, and brilliant scholar, still well membered by one or two of our oldest citizens. Mr Robinson was the editor of the Spirit of the Age. He died, as his gravestone in the old Cemetery tells us, ten years later, to wit, in the year 1839. The men who occupied the Row at this time were, with a single exception, young lawyers, many of whom in after years won the highest honors of the State. The exception was the beloved physician, Dr James Guild, Senior who occupied No.

8. Hornets' Row from the beginning to the day of his death in 1884-a period of nearly sixty years. He was the last survivor of the original Hor-1 nets. It is not necessary to believe that these young lawyers scorned delights and lived laborious days. Life was easy going in Alabama in that blessed year, 1829.

The State Bank was paying all the expenses of the State Government. Anybody who could get somebody to endorse his note could borrow money from the Bank. It is fair to imagine that to these young hornets, life was a primrose path those days. Doubtless they b: lively sense of their possibilities. Doubtless on midsummer afternoons, when the sun was casting! long shadows across the street, they sat under the trees that bordered the row and smoked their cob pipes and gossipped and told tales, and played checkers: They may have played marbles too on the shady sidewalk for all that we know to the contrary.

Probably they beguiled some of the long afternoons by discussing the great political questions and the great political leaders of the time. The popularity of John Quincy Adams was rapidly declining. The star of Andrew Jackson was rising full of brilliancy and power. The present Democratic party was just then coming into existence. Honesty.

sobriety, and well directed effort soon forstered, the noble ambition of most of these young lawyers into something like greatness Of the young lawyerswho had offices in Hornets' Row in 1829. There was Collier and Crabble, And Moody and Jack, Who belabored each other With many a thwack,.

as Mr Robinson's poem tells 115. Besides these there were Acee and Frierson and Jones and Stewart. A few words touching the subsequent courses of these young men. Henry W Collier was soon after made a Circuit Judge, and then Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and finally Governor of Alabama. George Whitfield Crabbe died in the prime of life.

During his brief public career he had been Comptroller of the State, Senator from Tuscaloosa County, Lieutenant Colonel of an Alabama regiment during the Florida war, and had served two terms in Congress| of the United States. Of Judge Washington. Moody it is only necessary to say here, in the words of Judge William R Smith, that "'his name is woven into the history of Tuscaloosa, and runs through it like a silver thread. unbroken for sixty years." William H Jack was of the noted family of Jacks who lived in Greene- County, descendants of that Revolutionary hero, Captain James Jack, who in 1775 rode horseback all the way from Charlotte, North Carolina, to Philadelphia to deliver the Meckenburg Declaration of Independence person to the Continental Congress. Mr Jack left Tuscaloosa 10 early life and removed to the Republic of Texas, where he distinguished himself in the arts of war and peace.

A County of Texas has been named for him, Edmund L Acee was a highly educated young lawyer from the University of Georgia Judge Smith in his "Reminiscences'" describes. him as "the flashing orator"' of the Tuscaloosa bar. He was noted as a faithful worker 10 the Union Sunday School of Tuscaloosa established before the churches had yet organized separate Sunday Schools. Of the subsequent career of Acee I know nothing. He probauly died at an early age.

Samuel Gordon Frierson, well known far bevond the confines of Tuscaloosa for corpulency, mimicry, and wit, soon abandoned the practice of law. After serving for two or three terms in the General Assembly of Alabama he was in 1840 elected State Treasurer. He was continued in this office until the seat of government was removed in 1847 from Tuscaloosa to Montgomery. He then became a tavern keeper in Tuscaloosa. He was at different times proprietor of the Belle Tavern and of the Indian Queen Hotel.

"Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?" exclaimed jolly old Falstaff, as he sat in the Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap, drinking sack and chaffing Dame Quickly. So memory brings back to me the portly form and the rare spirit of jolly old Gordon Frierson, as I knew him in the last years of his life, taking his ease in his inn, while he lolled in his easy chair on the veranda of the Indian, Queen Tavern, smoking his longstem pipe, and telling droll stories for the entertainment of his guests. He died in 1856 at his [country home of many mansions on the Greensboro road. This delightful retreat had long been a favorible summer resort for Tuscaloosa folks. John H Jones was the only one of the young lawyers, who did desert the Hornets' Nest during the dog-days of 1892.

So in Robinson's poem tells us. The others had all gone away to rest during the hot and dull season. Mr.

Jones remained in town and kept his office. He was practicing now in the Court of Love. No intricate law suit, made him a late lingerer in town. Why John H Jones, Esquire did not shut up his shop and hie away with the others to cooler quarters is explained by the announcement of his marriage in the Tuscaloosa Spirit of the Age, one week after the publication of Mr Robinson's poem. He was married to the charming young widow, Caroline Irby, described by Judge William R Smith in his volume of Reminiscences, as "the most beautiful of the daughters of Tuscaloosa -a belle of undisputed sway." "John H Jones was," says Judge Smith, "among the foremost of our earlier Tuscaloosa lawyers.' After his marriage he removed to Mobile, where in the practice of the law, he won fair fame and a handsome fortune.

He afterwards removed to Matagorda. Texas, where he disappears from our picture. George N Stewart, the last of the Hornets of 1829 to be mentioned here, came to Alabama in 1818 as the secretary of the Vine and Olive Colony settled by French exiles near the present Demopolis. Mr Stewart began his legal career in Tuscaloosa While he was living in Hornets' Row, he held the office of Reporter of the Supreme Court. Two or three of earlier volumes of the Supreme Reports were prepared by him.

Mr Stewart was a learned and not & politician. remained in Tuscaloosa until reached the front rank among the lawyers of the town. Then went to Mobile, where he soon won his way to distinction as one the leaders of the bar of the State. He was test known for his unabating passion for work while he always took a wholesome interest in the affairs of State His publiclife was limited to four years' term as State Senator for the County of Moolie. Mr Stewart was one of the three original hornets who outlived the war between the States, the other two being Judge Moody and Dr Guild who lived and died 11 Tuscaloosa.

Such is the story of the Hornett' Row and.its inhabitants as they were three quarters of a century ago. W..

Wednesday, March 26, 2025

 A WAR INCIDENT. HOW SALT WAS MADE DURING THE FOUR YEARS' STRUGGLE. The following interesting article from the pen of Capt. J A Bozman is clipped from the Mobile Register: On December 2, 1862, General Grant, was with his entire army, landed at Miliken's Bend, Mississippi river. for the purpose of cutting a canal on the west side of the river to Young's Point, in ;a direct line, pot more than three miles through a, beavily-timbered swamp.

This piece of military strategy, when completed, would enable the Federal gunboats and transports to pass through and avoid the Confederate batteries 1o- cated on the heights of Vicksburg surrendered. July 4, 1863. At the above stated time I was successfully planting in Louisiana, a few miles below Grant's point o8 landing. My negroee, about one hundred in number, though aware of the apt roach of their so-called friends, remained loyal to us, and. without compulsion packed "bag and baggage" into their pix-mule wagons and started for Alabama, via Vickeburg, leaving behind the best improved plantation in the parieb, with about six hundred ba'ea of cotton, ten thou and bushof corn, a large stock of cattle and bogs, and other plantation products too numerous to mention all of which were confi:cated or appropriated for the use and benefit of the Federal army soon to fol low in our wake.

As we approached Vicksburg, the Federal gunhosts, patrolling the river, espied in the distance our whitetop wagons, no doubt thinking they contained provisione&coming in from Texas for the Confederate soldiers then occupying that then Jeri to impregnable city, commenced shelling} our fleeing cavalcade, to the disgust and frigbt of their socalled friend [and brother. The Confederates too, no doubt, shared the supposition with|their river foe, and commenced replying over our heads, a veritable duel going on, shot and shell falling all aronnd us, not an enviable place to be in, I assure you. Before reaching our destination Colonel Catesby ap R Jones, BUperintendent of the naval gun foundry located at Selma, impressed forty of my men for the use of the Confederate government, paying me $40 a month for each, I protested, I had matured plans which would enable me to use these men to great advantage. Salt was worth $20 per bushel throughout the Confederate States. We bad in Alabama salt wells sufficient from which we could make salt without diffialty, but we lack, ed the implements or utensils such as caldrons, eto.

With these forty men I could overcome these obstacles. My father-in-law, Captain James H Dearing, being one of the pioneers of Alabama, built at St. Stephens, above Mobile, the firet steamboat, that 88- cended the Alabama river, in 1819 She ran successfu ly to and from Tuskaloosa to Mobile until 1824, then, by some e mismanagement, the rank at the wharf near Tuskaloos8. All that remaiued of this historical craft was her boiler, seventeen feet long and six feet in diameter, three-fourths of an inch thick. If I could get this monster boiler out of the river and cut it open lengthwise I would bave tWo caldrons sufficient to make a great quantity of salt, Loxplainod to Colonel Jones my poa.

were feasible and practical and proposed loaning me the men for two weeks, my pay to commence.

commence inamediately, as the ate government would be benefited to the extent of one-tenth of all the sales (we were paying a tithe of all product* etc., made to the government during the war.) My uodertaking W88 8 perfect suc. C888. I engaged Dr. Leach, a practi tical foundryman, paying him sufficient remuneration to assist me. Wel got the boiler out upon the bluff, where he superintended the cutting of this buge boiler open lengthwise, as proposed, after which he inserted staples 80 as to attach a rudder for steering at the end of each, fixed attachments at each side for the support of two seats: near which were oarlocks riveted for the use of two oars; staples upon each side for half-dozen bent hoops or wa" goo bowe, which were covered with common wagon cover, so as to protect the occupants from wind and rain.

The iron monsters were (now completed. They were provisioned for a cruise of ten days. These improvised boats were lauched into that water where they had rested near half a century. Three men getting on board of each, one steering and two plying their oars, they started on their eruiseof 260 milesto Clarke county, Alabama. Upon arrival there, the boilers were placed upon brick furnaces and in them were made thousands of bushels of salt.

With this staff of life, I was enabled to clothe, feed and shoe my other negroes, which others found very difficult to do during this four years siege which we were subjected to, env* ronments being thrown around us on every side. J. A. B. Tuskaloosa, Ala, Dec.

4, 1895..

 KELVIN ON DRUMS

KUNG FU GRIPP 2024 2024 kung fu gripp rehearsal - YouTube

 ROBERTOREG'S Big Dance







KUNG FU GRIPP ON ROOF OF HOTEL INDIGO PARTS 1,2,3


Friday, March 21, 2025

 WARRIOR GUARDS 1861  By:Alan J. Pitts

Date: 7/15/2002, 9:55 am
In Response To: Fowlers-Phelan or Fowlers Artillery (Carol)

This command began the war as an infantry company from Tuscaloosa County. The original captain was Robert E. Rodes, replaced by William Henry Fowler when Rodes was appointed Colonel of the 5th Alabama Infantry Regiment. The Tuscaloosa boys, calling themselves the "Warrior Guards", became part of this regiment as 1st Company "H".

Members had served under Captain Rodes as state troops at Fort Morgan, Alabama, from January 15, 1861, to February 22, 1861. They were accepted in Confederate service at Tuscaloosa, Alabama, on April 22, 1861. The regiment organized on May 11, 1861, at Montgomery, Alabama. Two days later seven companies enrolled at Pensacola, Florida, for twelve months in Confederate service, three others enlisting on May 15, 1861. Within a matter of days the 5th Alabama went to Virginia, camping in the Manassas area of northern Virginia until March of 1862 with the Confederate Army of the Potomac.

All but eighteen members of this company reorganized as Fowler�s Battery, Alabama Light Artillery, on December 28, 1861, others joining Company �I� of the 5th Alabama Regiment.

Here's a "brief historical sketch" of the battery from the ADAH site:





Colors of Significance: Historic Flags of Mobile Point Historical Marker









Thursday, March 20, 2025

 

from William Arthur Wheatley

 "Life on this earth is but the germination period. We are inserted into life like seeds into rich soil. The shells that contain us survive while we germinate, and when they die we sprout forth into a new life of light and joy." --Arthur Cornwallis Wheatley (My Dad)

The Life & Times of Arthur Wheatley
[note from robertoreg:My Scoutmaster of Troop 130 in Dothan]
by William Wheatley http://wheatleyus.com/pages/672346/index.htm

Thomas’ older son, Arthur Cornwallis Wheatley, became an engineer after studying in England at Cambridge University. He obtained an appointment with the British East India Company and spent several years in Africa surveying for potential mining operations. He surveyed also for the first rail line across Africa from Khartoum to the west. He also worked a tour of duty with The Nyasaland Company prospecting for minerals.

In between African excursions he returned to Mexico and occasionally visited Texas. His father had developed a fondness for San Antonio and had established a second home there.
In San Antonio, Arthur met Mary Lucy Giddings, daughter of a prominent Texas family. Her father, George Giddings, was involved in mining operations in northern Mexico. Arthur wrote to her extensively while on trips to Africa and they married in San Antonio when Arthur completed his assignments in Africa and returned to the Western Hemisphere.

After the marriage, Thomas moved to a home he owned in Mexico City. Arthur and Mary took up residence in Saltillo and took over the active management of the mines. They kept the house in San Antonio, living part-time in San Antonio, where Arthur practised Civil Engineering part-time. The rest of the time, the family lived in Saltillo, where my father, Arthur C. Wheatley, Jr., was born in 1900. They raised him as an Englishman, sending him to a Catholic school and hiring an English tutor to make sure he had a proper English education.


In 1910, the family was on a stagecoach trip from San Antonio to El Paso, where they also had a home, one that Mary had inherited from her father, George Giddings. The stagecoach overturned approaching El Paso. May Wheatley, my father’s older sister, was killed in the accident, and my father suffered a broken hip. Arthur Jr. was sent to New York City for medical treatment, where his broken hip was re-broken and set. He spent time in New York encased in sand until the knitting of the bones would allow travel back to Texas. Later that year, Arthur, Sr., died “of a broken heart” to be followed shortly by his father, Thomas D. Wheatley, who died at home in Mexico City.

In northern Mexico, in 1877 or 1878 (the exact date is not known), Doroteo Arango was born on an hacienda on which his father was a worker. In 1894, Doroteo, then working alongside his father, returned to their house to find his 12-year-old sister, Martina, being raped by a wealthy property owner, Don Lopez Negreto. Doroteo shot and killed Don Lopez.

At that time in Mexico a small number of wealthy property owners, primarily of Spanish ancestry, owned and controlled most of the working land. The native population, mostly Indian and Mestizo (mixed blood), lived on and worked the land for the landowners. Debts incurred by the workers were inherited by the sons, and pay was meagre. A worker could not leave the land unless all his debts to the landowner were paid, and so the condition was similar to that of feudal serfdom. The workers were little more than slaves. A landowner was permitted to punish his workers for insubordination with penalties up to and including death. Had the roles been reversed, Don Lopez would have been justified in killing Doroteo. As it was, Doroteo had committed a capital crime.

Accordingly, he fled to the hills to save his life. There he joined a corps of bandits led by Francisco “Pancho” Villa. Before long, Francisco was killed in a raid and Doroteo took over leadership of the band, adopting the name of his predecessor. From then onwards he was known as Pancho Villa.

Porfirio Diaz had ruled Mexico as President with dictatorial powers since 1876. He had developed the Mexican economy by inviting foreign investment. A number of Englishmen settled in Northern Mexico on land given them by Diaz. He invited foreign investment in industry and resource development as well. It was in this period that Thomas Dalemain Wheatley, my great-grandfather, moved to northern Mexico and invested in silver mines. Before long, the paths of Pancho Villa and the Wheatley family were to cross.

In 1905, a series of small rebellions began against the Diaz regime. Among them, Pancho Villa in the north and Emiliano Zapata in the south began fighting the federal forces and wresting large swaths of Mexico away from federal control.

Diaz could see the handwriting on the wall. He announced in 1908 that Mexico was ready for full democracy and that the time had come for him to prepare to step down and have an open election for president. Accordingly in 1910 a ballot was scheduled, and Francisco Madero announced his candidacy. He planned to institute rule by a group of elites, rather than full democracy, and Diaz, to prevent Madera’s election, threw him in prison and declared himself the winner. Madero escaped and fled to the US. A popular uprising ensued in support of Madero, who raised forces against the weak federal army. Zapata and Pancho Villa fought alongside him. After the defeat of the federal army, a coup within ranks resulted in Victoriano Huerta’s seizing command of the federal army. He worked out an agreement under which Diaz would abdicate. Madera was duly elected President and established a democratic government in 1911.

In 1911, most foreigners in northern Mexico withdrew to Texas for reasons of personal safety. Northern Mexico had become very turbulent. Most mining operations, owned and operated by foreigners, were shut down at that time. The American engineers who had been running the Wheatley mine since Arthur C. Wheatley Sr.’s death in 1910 shut down the mine and fled to Texas. The Wheatleys relocated to El Paso.

Zapata’s forces and Pancho Villa’s forces were merged into the federal army. Huerta expected to rule Mexico from his position as head of a strong military, while the idealistic president, Madero, would make speeches and write grand plans for Mexico. Huerta decided to eliminate his competition. Meanwhile, Zapata and Madero came to a parting of the ways over Madero’s failure to institute land reforms, and Zapata withdrew to the south with his forces.
Huerta imprisoned Pancho Villa, who also advocated land redistribution, on charges of insubordination. Huerta ordered the execution of Pancho Villa, but President Madero stopped the execution and ordered Pancho’s release. Pancho fled to the US in 1912 where he proceeded to make friends with wealthy Texans, arms dealers, and politicians.

In 1913, Huerta arranged for the assassination of Madero and declared himself president. Pancho Villa returned to northern Mexico and organised an armed rebellion. The force he formed came to be known as the “Division del Norte.” He and another rebel, Venustiano Carranza, waged a successful revolt against Huerta. The US supported the rebels against Huerta, who had begun expatriating American land holdings in Mexico and giving them to families that supported Huerta. This support included financial support and the sale of arms to the rebels.

Carranza and Villa had been enemies in the past, and Carranza tried to place Villa under his control by inviting Villa to join with him (meaning under him) for the campaign to overthrow Huerta. Villa refused, preferring to maintain an independent force. Carranza and Villa both fought simultaneously against Huerta, but as separate forces, very loosely coordinating with each other. Carranza formed an alliance with Álvaro Obregón. As the defeat of Huerta’s forces seemed imminent, Carranza and Obregón began skirmishing against Villa, and the war turned into a three cornered conflict.

In the midst of this, the US saw Carranza as the “stronger candidate” and began siding with Carranza, stopping the flow of money to Villa. At this time, Carranza/Obregón on one northern flank, Pancho Villa on another northern flank, and Zapata on the south were causing severe problems for the federal troops. As Carranza got closer to Mexico City with Huerta’s troops in retreat, the US opened a fourth flank against the Mexican federal troops. US Marines landed at Veracruz and marched on Mexico City (“The Halls of Montezuma”) in support of Carranza. Distracted by the American attack, the federal troops allowed Pancho Villa’s Division del Norte to establish control over most of northern Mexico, including most of the territory that had been under Carranza’s control. Carranza now controlled only his battlefields; his rival, Pancho Villa, controlled half of Mexico.

Seeing that his defeat was imminent, Huerta fled to Spain. Pancho Villa declared himself president, but so did Carranza. At first, the US appeared to recognize Villa’s presidency. General “Black Jack” Pershing hosted a formal reception for “Presidente Villa of the Republic of Mexico” at Fort Bliss, near El Paso, in July of 1914.

The US desired to prevent the return of Huerta, who had tried to ally Mexico with Germany in the war in Europe in order to take revenge on the French for their conquest of Mexico and installation of Maximillian as emperor of Mexico a generation before. The US anticipated an alliance with the British, and did not like the idea of a German ally on the southern border. Pershing promised that Pancho Villa would get renewed US aid and arms. Carranza entered Mexico City and was sworn in as president.

In 1915, Zapata and Pancho Villa, acting together, attacked and drove Carranza out of Mexico City. Pancho declared himself president and was sworn in as such. My father told me that his family was invited to attend the inauguration. His uncle, Lionel York Wheatley, lived in Mexico City at the time. I remember seeing among family papers the engraved menu from the inaugural dinner.

Carranza at that point turned back toward Mexico City and in 1915 mounted a serious campaign against Villa, who fled to the north. Carranza quickly won two important battles against Villa, who was hamstrung without money and arms, as US shipments to him had not resumed. Villa withdrew to the hills that were his traditional stronghold, and the US officially recognized Carranza as “provisional president”, ordering all arms shipments to Villa stopped. Pershing allowed Carranza to move Mexican troops across Texas to cut off Villa’s forces at Aqua Prieta, Sonora, where Villa suffered a serious defeat and pulled all of his remaining forces back to the hills.

Declaring that northern Mexico had been stabilised and was now peaceful, with Villa “defeated once and for all,” President Carranza in January of 1916 invited the exiled foreign land and business owners to return to Mexico. Many did, but Pancho Villa, enraged at America’s withdrawal of support, turned against Americans, vowing to kill all he could find. Arthur C. Wheatley Jr. was among those who returned. He was just sixteen at the time, but he was determined to resume mining operations in the mines he had inherited. Carranza attacked a train carrying seventeen American mining engineers from Chihuahua to the mines near Saltillo, executing sixteen of them. The seventeenth escaped by feigning death, dropping to the ground as if he had been shot, where he rolled down an embankment into a stand of mesquite trees, whence he escaped on foot.

I have read of this incident in histories of the Mexican revolution, and have wondered if the one who escaped was my father. He had returned to Mexico at Carranza’s invitation, relying on his looks (brown-skinned, brown-eyed, black-haired) to be able to pass for Mexican, on his ability to speak Spanish like a native, on the fact that he was a native-born Mexican and that as an Englishman he was not an American, to remain safe. The above incident and my father’s story are of the same time, but he never told me about the train attack. Nevertheless, he did flee Mexico at the time. Here is his story as he told it to me:

When Carranza became president and it seemed that the rebellions had been crushed, many who had fled Mexico at the outbreak of hostilities returned to their farms, their mines, and their businesses in Mexico. I was just sixteen at the time, but my sainted mother was nearly destitute from lack of income. She had been forced to sell our house in San Antonio to meet expenses and we had moved to the smaller home we had in El Paso, where I was in school.

In the spring, I started rounding up the engineers who had worked for my father in the mine and organized an expedition back to the mine. We went to Chihuahua by train, and then continued on the little mining supply train that ran through the mining country to Saltillo, where my father’s house still stood, the house in which I was born. I had arranged earlier for my mother’s car to be shipped ahead to the house in Saltillo.

Unfortunately, hostilities broke out again. To make a long story short, I made it by foot back to Saltillo without being caught by the Villistas. I took the car and drove as fast as I could on the dirt road to Monterrey where I slept, ate, stocked up on water, refuelled the car, and then took the road toward Laredo, Texas, which was the closest border crossing.

About two hours down the road I encountered by a patrol of troops. I couldn’t tell whether they were federales or Villa’s men. They were heavily armed and I had only my father’s revolver, so I stopped at their road block. El Colonel got in the car with me and told me he was commandeering my vehicle and that his men would follow on horseback. I asked him where they were going. He said they were going the same direction I was. I asked them what they were doing and whether there was trouble ahead, because I thought all the fighting was to the south.
“We’re looking for a Gringo [a Mexican slang word for American] named Arturo,” he answered.

“Did he commit a crime?” I asked.

“He came back to Mexico to steal again a mine that belongs to the people of Mexico. Diaz stole it from the people and gave it to the Gringos. We chased out the foreigners and took it back, and now Arturo came back to steal it back.”

“What does Arturo look like?” I asked.

“He’s a gringo, so he must have light hair and light skin. Have you seen any Gringos on your trip?”

“I’ve only seen Mexican peasants running away from the fighting.”

“So where are you going?” He asked.

I had to think fast. There was no destination worth mentioning between where we were and Nuevo Laredo on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande.

“I’m going to Laredo to buy American feed for my father’s horses. He raises fine Arabian horses for the corrida [bullfight].”

The answer seemed to satisfy him.

“I’m thirsty,” he said after a while. “What do you have to drink?” I nodded my head toward the back.

“I have some water in containers in the back,” I said.

“I am too thirsty for water,” he said. “Tiene usted cerveza? [do you have beer]?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Pulque?” [Pulque is an alcoholic drink consisting of fermented juice of the agave, the base that is distilled into tequila.]”

“No, yo tengo solamente agua [no, I only have water].”

“Stop at the next cantina.”

After about an hour we came to a crossroads populated by the village of Sabinas Hidalgo, consisting of a handful of adobe buildings, one of which contained a cantina. He instructed me to stop at the side of the road, which I did. He showed me a gold piece, and told me that if I waited while he and his men wetted their thirst, I could have it. I nodded agreement. Seeing a gasoline sign a short distance ahead, I told him that I would go to refuel the car and then return to wait for him.

His men dismounted and watered their horses at the public watering trough outside the cantina, and then they all went inside. I drove slowly to the gasoline sign, found the owner, and had him pump the gasoline into the car. I paid him, and then drove on as quickly as I could.

I never saw the troops again.

I made it without further incident to Laredo, and then went on to El Paso. In the fall, I went back to high school. As the revolution consolidated its hold on the country, Mexico nationalised the mines.

My grandfather’s legacy was taken away.

Back at high school in El Paso in the fall, my father enrolled in the Cadet Corps to prepare for commissioning in the US Cavalry. Everyone was expecting the US to enter the war in Europe in support of the British.

In March of that same year, 1916, Pancho Villa invaded New Mexico to punish an arms dealer there who had refused to ship arms for which Pancho had paid. He didn’t find the arms dealer, but he did attack and destroy the town of Columbus, New Mexico, in a battle in which several Americans were killed. Some believe that this was a staged incident by Carranza sympathisers to induce the US to intervene against Pancho Villa in the ongoing war between Carranza and Villa. However, the attack is consistent with Villa’s known intent to punish the Americans for abandoning him.

In April of 1916, General Pershing invaded Mexico, with President Carranza’s approval, to pursue and capture Pancho Villa. Pershing was singularly unsuccessful, although there were a number of skirmishes and he killed a number of Mexicans who were believed to be Villistas.

The US activities during these years were turning points in US military history. For the first time, US Marines stormed foreign soil. For the first time, National Guard troops were activated by the Federal Government to engage in combat. For the first time, American troops (regulars and National Guard) invaded what was indisputably foreign territory. For the first time, aircraft were deployed on a combat mission. This was also the first combat experience for Lt. George Patton, later to win fame and his place in history in World War II as a general. In Mexico, Patton succeeded in leading a raid that returned with three bodies of Mexicans – one of which was the body of one of the commanders of Villa’s forces, Cardenas. For a brief period, Patton was a “war hero” whose story was told in US newspapers.

Finally, after much futile pursuit and little to show for results, Pershing gave up the chase and returned to the US, writing to President Wilson, “Pancho Villa is everywhere, and he is nowhere.”

As a high school cadet, Arthur trained at Fort Bliss under Patton, among others. In 1918, upon graduation, Arthur was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Cavalry and stationed at Fort Bliss. Within days the company at Fort Bliss and their horses were sent by train to Galveston to board ship for Europe. Before they left harbour, the war ended. Arthur’s company was returned to Fort Bliss and mobilized as a border patrol to defend the border against bandits and Apaches. By the end of the year, the unit was converted to inactive National Guard status and demobilized.

Mexico seemed to have settled down, but with Pancho Villa still holed up in the mountains. In 1918 the Constitution of the Republic of Mexico was adopted and the “official” phase of the Revolution ended. However, small bands of rebels still held out, and there were occasional skirmishes, but the “rebellions” began to look more and more like “banditry.”

In early 1919, Arthur returned to Mexico with a few mining engineers. He reopened the mine and hired the local Indians to work it, paying them in silver coin. They had no trust in paper money, since each of the bandit-revolutionaries had developed the habit of printing his own, and paper money had very little value. Silver, however, was a known quantity. On Thursday, Arthur would take boring samples, rods of ore stone drilled out of the rock, by mule train to Chihuahua for assay, along with the mined ore for sale. He would return with rolls of silver coins to pay the miners. Here is the story, combining his verbal story to me with written narratives from his papers:

The hills still had roving bands of bandits. Some were Pancho Villa’s men, some were bands loosely associated with him, and some were simply independent gangs. Villa tried to run herd over them all, acting as regional policeman. If a local farmer had been robbed, he would go to Villa, who would track down the bandit who did it and return the loot. If a visitor from elsewhere in Mexico was robbed and complained to Pancho, Pancho would return the goods and tell him to try to stay in his own neighbourhood. The bandits were supposed to prey only on trains carrying supplies to the federales or to interests outside of Pancho Villa country. Raids to lands nearby were permitted, but within Pancho Villa country one was supposed to be secure and safe. Of course, the truth was far from what it was supposed to be.

My weekly mule train was often stopped. Usually, I was stopped on my way out to Chihuahua. When asked what my mules were carrying, I would show them the stone rods which were the assay samples and the bags of crushed stone that was the ore. Seeing nothing that they could use for money, they would let me go. I made it a point to carry a few of the “stone rods” with me on my return to the mine, so that if I was stopped on the way back I could unwrap stone rods to show the bandits instead of rolls of silver coins. Soon, I no longer had to show them anything. They would ask what I was carrying, and I would tell them I was carrying rocks and stone rods, and they would wave me on. Soon, I stopped carrying the assay samples back to camp from Chihuahua.

That was a mistake – a careless mistake. A band of bandidos stopped me on one trip and asked what I was carrying. I gave the usual answer. The leader dismounted, walked up to my lead donkey, and used his machete to slash open a roll of silver coins. Sneering at me, he took the mule train and killed the two Indians who rode with me, slashing them across the stomach so that their intestines spilled to the ground. He took my horse, my hat, my rifle and my boots. I walked barefoot back into camp.

In those days I had a temper. I was really angry. I took my revolver from my trunk. It was the revolver that had been carried in earlier days by my father, and that I had carried in rougher times, but which I had stopped wearing. If I had been wearing it, the bandido would have taken it, too. I saddled another horse and rode to Pancho’s stronghold. When his guards challenged me I told them I had a complaint that Pancho Villa needed to hear. They let me in. I dismounted and walked up to Pancho Villa.

“Don Pancho,” I said, “I have known you since we met at Fort Bliss when I was young. I have always known you as a man of your word, a man who values honour. You have known me as the Englishman born in Mexico who is as much Mexican as English. I complain to you as a Mexican who has been wronged in your territory by bandidos.”

I then told him the story of my robbery. I then drew my revolver, holding it so that it pointed straight up at the sky.

“You know me as a man of my word, as well,” I continued. “I give you my word that if you do not return to me what is mine, I will fight for what is mine. If I do not leave here with what is mine, I shall starve, and my mother and my sister shall starve, and we shall die, so I do not fear being killed by your men. But you can be sure that you will die before I do.”

“Put away your weapon,” said Pancho. “I’ll die before you because I’m older than you. I’m not going to harm you. My men did not know they were robbing the English Mexican. I will return all of your property.”

With that, he turned his back to me and strode toward the table that was set in the courtyard.

“Come eat and drink with me, as an old friend, before you return to your camp,” he said.

I did join him for dinner. We traded tall tales about our adventures. He laughed when I told him of my flight by car from Mexico a few years before.

“My men would not have harmed you,” he said. “They were under orders to round up all Gringos and bring them to me. They didn’t know that the Arturo they sought was the English Mexican. I knew that you and your father were men of honour, and I would have let you go. But I would have taken your mines, because Diaz had stolen them from the people.”

“You don’t take it now,” I said. “Why not now? Why would you have taken my property then, but not now?”

“Times have changed,” he said. “The revolution is over. I fight on only because I don’t want to be caught and executed. The times are still dangerous. Small fights still go on. Most of my men know who you are and respect you. But there are men in this state who are not revolutionaries but bandidos. You have to be careful of them. You need a bodyguard.”

He sat in thought for a moment before continuing. “I have a man who shall be your bodyguard. He is not as old as I, but he is experienced, and he knows all of my men. He is one of my right-hand men. He can deal with any bandido you run into. He will be at your side from today and I will pay him as I have always done. I do things for my friends.”

Raising his voice, he yelled, “Don Jesus! Come here!” A swarthy bandido came running to the table.

“Sí, mi General,” he said.

“You know the English Mexican, Don Arturo. He is a friend of mine. Bandidos have been bothering him. I give you to him. You are to guard him and serve him as you would guard and serve me. ¿Comprende?”

“Sí, mi General,” he said.

Don Jesus departed with me and stayed with me from then on. After several trips to and from Chihuahua, bandit bands no longer stopped us. They just smiled and waved as we went by. I had saddle bags painted with the words, “Don Arturo” and started sending the mule trains with one of my engineers in charge, no longer feeling the need to defend them myself. For weeks they returned safely. I had begun to think that they were finally safe from the bandidos.

Then one day the engineer who had taken a mule train to Chihuahua returned with the mules but without his men and without the payrolls. He told me that bandidos had taken the money and shot his men. I turned to Don Jesus and took out my anger on him.

“Don Jesus,” I shouted, “I thought that your boss had honour but he does not. His bandidos have taken my money.” He stood with bowed head while I yelled at him a while longer. I told him to go back to his bandido friends, that from now on I would hire my own guards and take care of myself. He raised his head and looked me in the eye.

“Don Arturo, I have honour, and so does Don Pancho. I will go and get the men who did this. They are men who have left Pancho, have abandoned the revolution, and have become bandidos. They are without honour, and I, who have honour, will bring them to justice.”

I immediately repented my outburst because I was sure that he was telling me the truth and that this was not Pancho Villa’s doing. I apologized to him, but he stopped me, telling me that I should hold my words until he returned, having then proved his honour. He armed himself heavily and rode alone into the hills. I said a silent prayer for his safety, fearing he would not return alive. My American engineer and I went to Saltillo for a few days at home with bath water, soap and good food.

Three days later he walked into the courtyard of my house in Saltillo, leading his horse, on which three prisoners were tied and strapped into place. He offered them for identification. Alas, the bandits had their faces covered when they had committed the act, and my engineer could not identify them.

Don Jesus untied them from the horse, but left their hands bound and left them tied together. Leading them by the rope that bound them, he led them away, saying he would take them to town and deliver them to the local police for investigation.

He was back within an hour, reporting the old story that they had tried to escape and he had been forced to shoot them.

“But, Don Jesus,” I complained, thinking of their blood on my head, “Those men may not have been the ones who assaulted my men. We could not identify them. You may have killed innocent men!”

“Innocent? Ah, but, Don Arturo,” he said, “They could not have been innocent. They were very bad men, yes, very bad. They were the ones, I am very positive! And besides, if they did not do that, they have done other things. They are very bad men. Yes, they were my chief lieutenants in the days of the revolution. They deserve the punishment that they have received.”

He was standing straight and calm with dignified pride.
“I did what they deserved. Justice is served. My days of killing men who do not deserve to die are over. We must make Mexico a land of law!”

I thought to myself that it would be generations before the old ways died and Mexico could become a land of law.

In 1920, General Álvaro Obregón, along with associates Plutarcho Elías Calles and Adolfo de la Huerte launched a successful revolt against Carranza, who was soon assassinated. Carranza had already had Zapata killed in 1919. Pancho Villa, the last remaining revolutionary, reached a deal with the new Mexican government under which he laid down his arms and retired to a large hacienda with his men.

The new government expropriated the mines, industry and lands owned by foreigners, including the Wheatley mines. My father returned to Texas and continued pursuing his degree in mining engineering from the Texas School of Mines in El Paso.

In early 1923, Calles began campaigning for election as President, and Pancho Villa, still immensely popular with the people of the north, decided to make a legitimate bid for election. He told his associates he was going to announce his candidacy and try to win election. My father had returned to Mexico, employed now as a mining engineer to work in the mines he had once owned, by a company that was running them for the Mexican government.

Pancho Villa began a trip criss-crossing the northern states, lining up political and financial support. When his car reached Parral, Chihuahua, he was killed in a hail of gunfire.

As my father told it, Villa had arrived by car in the town square with the town leaders and local businessmen, including my father, standing near the car. Villa was going to make a speech announcing his candidacy for president. Seven gunmen killed him in a hail of gunfire.

Once again my father headed for the border. The assassins were arrested, tried, and imprisoned with very light sentences. Suspicion centred on Calles, but the assassins never named their employer, and Calles soon pardoned them.

No uprising followed, and so my father returned to Mexico and his employment after a brief absence. Soon, he met Inda Mary Benway, a young lady later to become his bride, who was at the time living with her father, mother, and sister in Chihuahua. Her father, Dr. William Henry Benway, a surgeon, operated a medical and surgical clinic for the Methodist Church to provide medical care to the Indians of the region, particularly the Tarahumara Indians.

He left Mexico after the mines played out in 1929, and Don Jesus went back to the hill country. My father worked for a while in the Beaumont, Texas shipyards before marrying Inda Benway on 5th June 1935 in El Paso, Texas. He returned with her to his home in Saltillo and returned to working in the mines he had once owned. Then, when the US entered World War II, he took employment with the Tennessee Valley Authority as a construction engineer.

When I was an infant in 1945, we moved from Norris, Tennessee, to Merida, Yucatan, where my father began employment with Electric Bond and Share of New York, later known as EBASCO, building power plants. My father said that he wrote to his friends in Mexico to announce his return, and that about a month later, Don Jesus showed up on his doorstep in Merida. He told my father that although Pancho was dead and could not pay him, he was there to continue his duty. My father put him to work on the payroll of the projects he was running.

I remember Don Jesus. When we moved to Puebla, Don Jesus came, too. My father became Chief Engineer for Luz y Fuerza de Puebla, the power company for the state of Puebla, and Don Jesus became night watchman at the power plant that served the City of Puebla. That power company, and the entire power industry in Mexico, was owned at the time by EBASCO. My brother, Thomas Benway Wheatley, who was born in Puebla, also may remember Don Jesus. After burglars broke into our house one night, Don Jesus started spending his nights as night watchman at our house. Our dog, Butch, adored Don Jesus and would make the nightly rounds with him. He fed Butch bread soaked in coffee, which Butch seemed to love. Don Jesus died shortly after we moved permanently from Mexico in 1955. I remember him as a kind, gentle old man with steel in his eyes. They were the grey of gunmetal.

Once again, it had become necessary for my father to leave the country, this time because the Mexican government expropriated foreign holdings. It nationalised the power industry and passed a law forbidding the employment of Americans in managerial positions in state-owned industries.

In 1955 we left Puebla and settled in Dothan, Alabama, where my father took a position with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers as a construction engineer at near-by Fort Rucker.

My father and mother are both buried in Dothan.

The connection between Alabama and Pancho Villa’s Mexico may be tenuous, but the strange friendship between my father and Pancho Villa provides a link. Pancho Villa was brutal, and began his adult life as a bandit. However, throughout most of the revolutionary period, he was a true revolutionary and champion of the poor people.
William Arthur Wheatley http://wheatleyus.com/pages/672346/index.htm
(©2006, William Arthur Wheatley)
Today, I am an architect and construction manager. I live and work as a consultant in the Philadelphia suburbs. Like my father’s, my work tends to be international. I have many beautiful memories from my childhood in Mexico. My brother, Thomas Benway Wheatley, Esquire, an attorney, lives and works in Portland and in Bar Harbor, Maine.
The copyright for this article is owned by William Arthur Wheatley. This article may not be reproduced without permission in any media. Some of the photographs reproduced in this article are from the public domain, and are so noted. The remainder are the separate copyright property of the owners referenced.

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