101–125
From John Warne Gates peddling barbed wire in San Antonio to a group of cowboys and ranchers holding the first rodeo in Pecos
101 | John Warne Gates peddles barbed wire
Military Plaza, San Antonio | 1876
John Warne Gates died a rich industrialist, but in 1876 he was a 21-year-old barbed-wire salesman when he arrived in San Antonio. That’s where he publicly demonstrated the potential of his product in a spectacular exhibit: a barbed-wire pen of Longhorns in San Antonio’s Military Plaza. Gates’ salesmanship—“Light as air, stronger than whiskey, and cheap as dirt” was his slogan—resulted in such gangbuster sales for Washburn & Moen that the company couldn’t keep up with orders. The West was never the same, as the prairies were soon carved into sharply drawn plots—and the open range disappeared forever. —KV
102 | Canary Islanders arrive
Plaza de las Islas, across from the San Fernando Cathedral; San Antonio | March 7, 1731
Recruiting a civilian outpost for King Philip V of Spain must have been rough. Imagine the marketing campaign: “Wanted—self-sustaining population of four hundred families for king’s new scheme. Be the first to establish a civil government in the barbaric wastelands of the north!” When the 55 lucky recruits from the poor, overpopulated Canary Islands arrived at the presidio of San Antonio de Béxar, they set up a little community (alongside a small military installation, which had been there for more than a decade), organized a government, and flourished, proving such feats were possible to the immigrant waves that followed. The village they occupied, now marked by a plaza they would barely recognize, became the most significant in Spanish Texas. —KV
103 | Ernie Cortes cries, “Balderdash!”
100 West Houston, San Antonio | February 5, 1975
Anyone who remembers the San Antonio that was captured by NBC News one evening in 1970—when mayor Walter McAllister told an interviewer that Mexican Americans were nice people who loved flowers while scenes of dire poverty on the West Side were flashing across the screen—will also remember the day change came to the city. It arrived in the form of Ernesto “Ernie” Cortes, who inspired members of his newly formed group Communities Organized for Public Service (COPS) to rise up against the oligarchy. On February 4 the group went to the old Joske’s store downtown, at Alamo and Commerce streets, and tried on everything from dresses to fur coats—and bought nothing. The next day they moved on to the real seat of San Antonio power, the Frost Bank, and asked to change dollars into quarters and back again. Hundreds of people, over and over. When Cortes met with Tom Frost, the chairman of the bank, and was told that his concerns couldn’t be addressed overnight, Cortes replied, “Balderdash!” throwing back one of Frost’s favorite sayings. The sheer numbers of Mexican Americans streaming into downtown helped get their message across, and finally public works projects such as paved roads became a reality on the West Side. That November, 27-year-old Henry Cisneros was elected to the city council. —MS
104 | Lydia Mendoza records “Mal Hombre”
231 East Martin, San Antonio | 1934
Lydia Mendoza was still a teenager when she walked into a makeshift studio at the Texas Hotel, which stood on the corner of Martin and Navarro streets, and played four songs for the Bluebird Record label, for which she was paid $60. The recordings from this solo session in 1934 propelled her into the spotlight. One of the songs was “Mal Hombre,” the lyrics of which she had learned from a chewing gum wrapper in Monterrey, Mexico. It became her first hit and remained her most well-known single throughout a long career as the “Queen of Tejano.” The Texas Hotel was razed in 1940, and the spot is now the Bank of America Plaza. But gazing at the sidewalk in front you can imagine a teenage girl stepping outside and heading home, unaware of just how much her life was about to change. —KV
105 | World’s first air-conditioned high-rise opens
115 East Travis, San Antonio | January 1928
Ben Milam died leading the attack that captured San Antonio from Mexico’s federal troops (and thereby invited Santa Anna’s counterattack that resulted in the fall of the Alamo), but his name is also associated with something much, well, cooler. In 1928 the Milam Building opened its doors, a 21-story brick-and-concrete structure on Travis Street that was the world’s first high-rise office building with air-conditioning. And who’s to say which event was more significant to the settlement of Texas? Until that point, major corporations had shunned the Southwest for its heat and humidity. Freed from these discomforts, they learned to love it for its low taxes and antipathy to unions. The modern Sunbelt was born here, at the corner of Travis and Soledad streets, where current tenants are still happy to step inside for relief from the summer sun. —HWB
106 | Rollin King and Herb Kelleher hatch the idea for Southwest
300 East Travis, San Antonio | 1966
Rollin King was a 34-year-old entrepreneur who owned an air taxi service that ferried businessmen around the Rio Grande Valley; Herb Kelleher was King’s 35-year-old lawyer, who was looking for the next big thing. King’s venture barely made money, but one day, after hearing his banker complain about poor airline service in Texas, King had a crazy idea: He would expand his business model to a low-fare, no-frills airline that serviced the state’s biggest cities exclusively. But first he needed a partner, so he approached Kelleher. Though the details of their exchange at the posh St. Anthony Club are now larger than legend (did they really map out a business plan on a cocktail napkin?), it’s certainly true that their partnership was sealed over drinks. Today the St. Anthony is still there, and King’s brainchild—now known as Southwest Airlines—is poised to become the second-largest domestic carrier in the country. —KR
107 | Eugene Goldbeck photographs President McKinley
Travis Park, San Antonio | May 4, 1901
The camera was a No. 2 Bulls-Eye, small and boxy, clad in seal grain leather and adorned with nickel hardware. A young Eugene Goldbeck, all of nine or ten at the time, had borrowed it from his older brother, Herman, and headed out to Travis Park, where some 10,000 schoolchildren much like himself had been corralled to wave flags, sing the patriotic repertoire, and cheer themselves hoarse as part of the city’s grand welcoming of the nation’s newly reelected president. Goldbeck no doubt took part in the merrymaking, but his mission that day was more than just mere celebration: He wanted to photograph a president. So he finagled himself a curbside spot, and at the exact moment William McKinley was to roll past in his open-air carriage, Eugene darted into the street and clicked his exposure—and began his career as one of the country’s great photographers. —S. HOLLISTER
108 | Theodore Roosevelt lives his dream
204 Alamo Plaza, San Antonio | 1898
Theodore Roosevelt had always wanted to be a soldier. So when the Spanish-American War finally commenced, in 1898, the 39-year-old assistant secretary of the Navy promptly resigned and began recruiting a volunteer cavalry regiment. It was a motley force of cowboys, prospectors, American Indians, gamblers, and even some Ivy League polo players. The regiment mustered in San Antonio, where Roosevelt made his headquarters at the Menger Hotel, the bar of which became a jostling scene of bravado and storytelling. It was Roosevelt’s dream come true. After “Teddy’s Texas Tarantulas” was discarded as a name for the regiment, a local wit came up with “The Rough Riders,” which stuck. The city was happy to see them come, because they brought federal dollars and national attention, but they were even happier to see them go, since they were often less than disciplined. The farewell gathering turned into a melee when some well-lubricated recruits mistook the percussion section of the city’s band for Spanish artillery and returned fire. Today the Menger is plastered with references to the Rough Riders, including revolvers, a campaign hat, and an original military standard carried up Kettle Hill by San Antonio’s Joseph H. Beck. —HWB
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