A seizure of sombreros in San Antonio.
A young gentleman from Comanche makes a splashy entrance.
A booming celebration for President Garfield.
A big bag o' cats in Austin.
A courtroom brawl in San Antonio.
The time it rained frogs in Houston.
Veggie tales from Brownsville in the early twentieth century.
Galveston hosts a baseball game with nursery rhyme flair.
The aerial pursuits of the Greenville Banner.
The whisky fad.
A winter wonderland.
Fly, fly, blackbird.
Harry Potter and the unlit lights.
Chatter at the Hempstead drug store.
The mad skunks of Georgetown in 1875.
From the Bryan Daily Eagle, July 7, 1910
“Our water squirters again find employment by amusing themselves in sprinkling our streets.” —San Saba County News, April 7, 1893
“Lightning killed near Blossom, Tex., a mule and cow at the same time. They were a mile apart.”—Jefferson Jimplecute, May 1, 1908
“A large chair factory began operations in Tyler on Saturday.”—Abilene Reporter, May 2, 1890
“Pistol carrying is now so prevalent here as to be a first-class nuisance. The young men, white and black, hardly consider themselves in party attire unless they have on a pistol.”—Brenham Weekly Banner, May 27, 1886
Crossing the Rio Grande in one’s undergarments.
“Tramps are overrunning the towns of Eastern Texas, and will soon overwhelm Austin.” —Weekly Democratic Statesman, December 16, 1875
“At Bonham, recently, Miss Jessie Bryant, while sleeping, was robbed of her beautiful golden tresses by some unknown party. Six years ago the little lady met with the same misfortune.”—Shiner Gazette, November 1, 1894
“Mr. Connelly, a farmer, living near Dallas, was bitten on the hand by a rattlesnake. . . . He went home and drank a quart of whiskey; split the back of a live chicken and applied it to the wound. The treatment was successful.”—Brenham Weekly Banner, August 9, 1878
“An irate gentleman went for the city editor of the Dallas Herald a few days ago, but was met with a six-chambered apology-maker. It might as well be understood now that all local editors in Texas have their pants made with pistol pockets in them.” —San Marcos Free Press, June 19,
“New towns are springing up so rapidly in Texas that even the people of the State seem at a loss to keep track of them. Hence a stranger, traveling by rail, asking a Texas fellow-passenger the name of places being passed, will find from the response that a generic term has been adopted,
“There are so many mad dogs in Denton county that people won’t send their children to school, and people riding about o’nights ride like Arabs on dromedaries, crossing their nice little legs in front of them.” —Weekly Democratic Statesman (Austin), June 3, 1875
In this installment, the missus of a sheep farmer visits Waco—as a mister.
In this installment, the King Ranch receives a mighty substantial shipment of barbed wire.
In this installment, Dallas feasts for six months on something called the "boss turtle."