What Is a Texan? Part Two
To those of us who are so proud of being native-born Texans, let us always remember our ancestors were Texans-by-choice!
Martha Rash
In the last Y’allogy newsletter I introduced you to my wife’s grandmother, Martha Rash, whom we called Gommie. I never knew an individual more devoted to keeping the spirit of Texas alive than her. Her devotion ran deep. As I told you, she was a member of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas (DRT), serving as the organization’s president during the Sesquicentennial. But her devotion cut deeper than that, it cut to the marrow. When I joined the family she told me, “Remember, you’re a Texan first and an American second.”
That exhortation has stuck in my gray matter for more than forty years. There have been times when I’ve thought, Surely she said that tongue-in-cheek, after all she had a relative who served as a Union surgeon during the Civil War and she gave over two boys to the United States Navy. But then I remember the earnestness in her face and voice when she said it, and I’m not so sure she wasn’t ready to mount the ramparts at the Alamo or charge the open field at San Jacinto.
Whether or not her exhortation was expressed with a grin or with grit, one thing I never questioned was her commitment to ensuring that her fellow Texans, native born and adopted, knew and honored their rich historical heritage. To that end, she spoke to anyone who would listen to the stories of the early days in Texas. The speech she delivered to the wives of certified public accountants at Brookhaven Country Club on October 22, 1991—“What Is a Texan?”—was one such occasion. I published the first part of that speech in the last newsletter. This is the second part. She addressed the most significant events of the Texas Revolution, beginning at the beginning: Gonzales.
The text has been edited for clarity and length.
Gonzales
The people at Gonzales had been given a very small cannon by the Mexican government to defend themselves from the Indians. The new government was afraid of insurrection and in September of 1835 demanded the cannon’s return. In true Texas style, the men [of] Gonzales said, “Come and take it.” They made themselves a flag with a cannon . . . and the words Come and Take It [emblazoned along the bottom]. The Mexicans came. They didn’t take it. They were driven back. This was October 2, 1835—the first shot of the Texas Revolution had been fired.
The Alamo
The story of the Alamo is familiar to all of us. It is known all around the world. The story is such a heroic and memorable one. During my administration as President General of the DRT there [were] . . . three very special Sesquicentennial memorial services held at the Alamo on March 6, 1986. I was hostess to Governor Mark White of Texas and Governor LamarAlexander of Tennessee. Governor Alexander brought thirty-three young men from Tennessee high schools to represent the thirty-three Tennesseans who volunteered to aid Travis. . . . Among the select group attending the private service in the chapel was Alex Haley who wrote Roots.1 As I called [in a hushed voice] the states . . . and the number of men from that state who died in the Alamo, their state flag was presented by military men and dipped in tribute. I was able to look over the solemn but attentive audience and there, on the front row, sat Alex Haley sound asleep! I had the inclination to step down, go to him and ask if I was being too loud. Probably he was resting his eyes and enjoying the momentous occasion. Later he was very cordial and polite as he, the two governors, and I planted a tree from David Crockett’s home place on the Alamo grounds.
Those were brave men who were in the Alamo and those few who came to join them. James Bowie had been in charge and Sam Houston had sent word to destroy the Alamo and retreat. James Bowie lived in San Antonio. He had married the beautiful Ursula Veramendi, daughter of Vice-Governor Veramendi but she had died during an epidemic. Later, William B. Travis was sent to take charge and carry out the order of destroying the Alamo. However, he changed his mind after seeing the Alamo and becoming aware of how strategic it was. If he could hold back the army of Santa Anna, it would give the Texians time to gather and build an army. Those thirteen days of glory were hard but the defenders made the most of what they had. Thirty-two volunteers joined them from Gonzales. . . .
All in all there were 189 known men who died in the Alamo. I said known because there is the possibility we will be able to add a few more as time goes on.2 While I served as President General of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, a young lawyer in San Antonio who was researching early records came across an interesting item. Fortunately, he pursued this discovery and brought it to us at the Alamo. He had found the name of a man who, according to the documents, had been in the Alamo when it fell. Our DRT librarian, as well as the curator of the Alamo and several members of the board of management, did extensive research to confirm his finding. We were able to announce on March 6th, 1987—on the 151st anniversary of the fall of the Alamo—that Damacio Jemines had been added to the list of men who died at the Alamo. It also solved a mystery for us about how one of the small cannons was brought to the Alamo. Damacio brought it with him when he entered the Alamo. . . .
On February 24, 1836, Travis wrote his [famous] message . . . calling for help. It is still regarded as one of the great statements of defiance and courage in the English language.
To the People of Texas and All Americans in the world—Fellow Citizens and Compatriots:
I am besieged with a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual Bombardment and cannonade for 24 hours and have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves proudly from the walls. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call upon you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism, and every thing dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due his own honor and that of his country.
VICTORY OR DEATH.
Willam Barret Travis
[We all need our heroes. I love the story of William B. Travis—drawing the line with his sword.] After reading Travis’ dramatic letter, I can believe that he drew that line saying, “All who would stand beside me, cross over this line. Those who do not wish to stay may leave without any faulting of him.” Moses Rose says Travis did draw that line. Rose was not a coward. He had fought with Napoleon. He just wasn’t ready to die. He remained standing where he was. All others crossed over—even James Bowie who was ill and asked to have his cot carried across. After dark, Rose scaled the walls and made his way through the enemy lines and disappeared.
James Butler Bonham was a courier and honorary colonel who made trip after trip to the outside going through enemy lines, carrying requests for help. . . [He begged] Fannin at Goliad to move his army west. There was no help. At the very end, the weary Bonham, a lawyer, a Carolinian of [a] well-to-do family and a boyhood friend of Travis, turned his mount around . . . and rode back toward San Antonio. He was told by Fannin that it was useless to throw his life away. Bonham answered, “Buck Travis deserves to know the answer to his appeals.” He spat upon the ground and galloped west into his own immortality. Returning to the Alamo Bonham [ran] though the Mexican army to the gate of the Alamo. Travis had given him a white handkerchief and told him to let it stream from his hat when he returned so that the Texians would recognize him and not fire on him. . . . He succeeded in this knowing he was returning only to die with his comrades.
It was a fierce battle. After the Mexicans climbed the walls there was a hand to hand fight. The Mexican using his bayonet and the Texian using the butt of his gun to kill as many as possible. No white [or Tejano] defender survived. As an inscription on a later monument stated, “Thermopylae had its messenger, the Alamo had none.” Mrs. Dickinson, her small child [Angelina], Bowie’s negro slave [Joe], and several Mexican women and children were the only ones left to tell the story. These Santa Anna released, not so much in gallantry as in the trust that their tale would spread terror throughout Texas. After thirteen days of hard fighting, at 9:00 am, March 6, 1836, five hours after the final attack began, the assault was over. The Alamo had fallen. The 189 men at the Alamo had taken a tremendous toll on the Mexican army. In all, there were 1,600 Mexicans killed and approximately 500 wounded.3 Here, for the first time, the legend of the Diablos Tejanos, the Devil Texans, was spawned, a legend that would go into Mexican folklore.
These brave Texians died knowing only that a consultation had been called at Washington-on-the-Brazos. They never knew the results of that meeting: the Declaration of Texas Independence.
Goliad
When part of the Mexican army, under General Urrea, moved out, they captured Fannin and his men in the field after a fierce battle.4 They returned the prisoners to Goliad. Fannin’s men thought they were to be prisoners of General Urrea. The Texas leader, Colonel Fannin and General Urrea of the Mexican army agreed on terms of surrender.
That Texians should be treated as prisoners of war according to surrender terms, as was the way of most civilized nations.
That private property was to be respected and restored, but side arms should be give up.
That the men should be sent to Copano and thence, in eight days, to the United States.5
That the officers were to be paroled and returned to the United States.
General Urrea was honest in those intentions, but when Santa Anna heard of this he immediately ordered that the men be marched out and shot. This was carried out on Santa Anna’s exacting orders. At dawn, on Palm Sunday, March 27, 1836, the Texians were awakened by a Mexican officer who said he wished them to form a line that they might be counted. The men were marched out in separate divisions, under different pretexts. Later the wounded were dragged out and butchered. Colonel Fannin was the last to suffer. It is believed that, in all, twenty-seven, of those who were marched out to be slaughtered, made their escape by running when they realized what was happening. There were 330 left dead that Sunday morning.6
San Jacinto
We come now to the deciding encounter. Sam Houston’s army was a ragtag, put-together group. They had no uniforms, just homespun clothes or buckskins with fringe. Hats were wide brim, tall crowned or coonskin caps. The men had enlisted, taken their rifles from their wall, strapped a knife to their belt, bid farewell to the wives, left instructions to keep a gun close by because of Indian raids and left to join Houston. They were ready to fight. . . . If the man had a horse, he brought it. Sam Houston trained the men until there was a reasonable semblance of an army. However, these men were never really disciplined soldiers. It was a mixture of Houston’s orders and their wills, but they were experienced in fighting. The Indian raids taught them how to fight, each in their own way. Against the look of the grand uniforms of the Mexican army, the Texians did not look too good. The Texians had an advantage over Santa Anna’s army however. They fiercely resented the bloody slaughter of their friends at the Alamo and the massacre at Goliad. Their blood ran hot and they were fighting for something.
I’m sure you have heard of the flag which was carried into battle by the Texians at San Jacinto. It was white silk, 3’ x 6’ on which was painted the figure of a nearly nude woman, “Miss Liberty.” It now hangs in the House of Representatives at Austin, but some latter day prude had her strategically draped.
Sam Houston kept falling back as Santa Anna’s army approached them. His men were getting impatient. They wanted to stand and fight. Their blood was boiling. Their families had fled from their homes in the “Run-Away Scrape” just days before. . . . They had also heard that [Santa Anna] would kill all in his path and burn their homes. Some of the families had left so quickly they had left hot food on the table. They carried what they could but had to be frugal because they needed to travel fast. They were running for the border between Texas and the United States.
Houston kept ordering a retreat. The men were getting restless and when they came to a fork in the road, they decided if Houston took the left fork to Nacogdoches, they would take the right fork and go to Harrisburg to confront Santa Anna. Since the forward line had received no orders as to which road to take, the men all shouted, “To the right, boys, to the right.” . . .
The army arrived in Harrisburg on April 18th. They rested there the remainder of the day and while at Harrisburg, a most fortunate event occurred which told them they had made the correct decision in taking the road to Harrisburg. Houston’s scouts brought in two Mexican couriers bound for Santa Anna with messages from Fillisola. Houston’s men discovered the deerskin saddlebags in which the couriers carried the messages had belonged to William B. Travis at the Alamo. His name was still on them. The sight of the Mexican soldiers and their baggage enraged the Texians. The messages they carried greatly pleased Houston. First, the Mexican troops ahead of them were a small force of less than 800 men and, second, Santa Anna personally commanded it. Santa Anna, in his over confidence, had out distanced his army and supplies and Houston felt his small army could end the war with the one fatal stroke he had dreamed about. It would hinge on a single battle. On the morning of the 19th, Sam Houston addressed the assembled Texians. It was reported his address was very animated and concluded with: “The army will cross and we will meet the enemy. Some of us may be killed, and must be killed, but soldiers, remember the Alamo, the Alamo, the Alamo!” A doctors with Houston’s Amry remarked, “After such a speech, but damned few will be taken prisoners—that I know.”7
The army moved along toward Buffalo Bayou and then on to Lynch’s Ferry where they had the enemy in sight. Santa Anna had about 750 men under his immediate command but he sent orders to Fillisola to advance Cos’ men to him saying he wanted 500 “picked” or “seasons” soldiers. When these arrived, Santa Anna had approximately 1,300 men. Both forces, at least in sight of each other, knew the moment had come. Each later professed confidence of victory over the other.
By late morning on the 21st, Santa Anna was convinced that Houston would not attack him, so he issued orders to stand at ease to allow Cos’ men and those whose rest was disturbed in [the] early morning hours by their arrival to catch up on their sleep. They took time for siesta. Santa Anna claimed in his battle report that he slept, others within his camp have suggested he indulged in his opium habit. The one that seems most accepted is that he retired with a mulatto girl named Emily, taken from Morgan’s plantation. Regardless, this siesta was a fatal mistake.
After much discussion, the very first time Houston held a council of war, Houston dismissed the officers without any decision being made and everyone thought they would not fight that day. However, a little after 3:00 pm on April 21st, Houston was ready. He had prepared a plan of battle. The men formed their lines . . . as Houston planned. Artillery was placed at the right of the 1st Regiment. The two cannons, called “Twin Sisters,” were the gift to the Texians from Cincinnati. The cavalry, consisting of sixty-one men, formed on the Texians right flank. Four companies of infantry were assigned to sustain the artillery. It was 4:30 pm when a Mexican bugler first became aware of the Texian advancement. He sounded the alarm but to no avail. There was complete chaos in the Mexican camp. Santa Anna had been so confident he had posted no guards. The Texians were on them yelling, “Remember the Alamo, Remember Goliad” before [the Mexican army] could get organized. Even though the Texians had the Mexicans in retreat they continued chasing them into the swamp. It was a bloody battle brought on by hate and revenge. . . .
It seems all military encounters have their music departments. San Jacinto had [its] musicians too. . . . A small corps of . . . three fife players and a drummer. Nearly a mile separated the two armies and the Texians could have easily been fired upon. Many reported that the musicians did not begin to play their marching song until the first shots were fired. Others say they heard the music from the first. I think it would not have made too much difference.
Who but a Texian would go into battle screaming “Remember the Alamo, Remember Goliad,” fighting and killing while their musicians played a love song called, “[Will You] Come to the Bower?” . . . It’s said that it was the only tune they could play!
[. . .]
It took only 18 minutes to attack and win. . . . With the victory at San Jacinto our republic was born. “Republic, I like the sound of the word, means people can live free, talk free, go or come, buy or sell, be drunk or sober, however they choose. Some words can give you a feeling that makes your heart warm. Republic is one of those words.”8
[. . .]
When Santa Anna was . . . brought before Sam Houston, who was propped up under a tree due to his wounded ankle, the independence of Texas was secured and the San Jacinto battle was assured its position of prominence in history.
To Texians, the victory meant not only release from the shackles of Santa Anna’s dictatorial oppression, but also the restoration of past rights and freedoms. Cheap land enticed Americans to come to Texas in droves after 1836. Although the new republic struggled throughout its decade of existence, Texas offered new promise of opportunities in commerce and agriculture to all comers. A liberal immigration policy opened the door for oppressed Europeans to carve new lives from the virgin land, thus giving Texas the grand cultural diversity we all enjoy today.
After ten years as a republic the close ties between Texas and the United States led directly to the next momentous event—an event with international import. When Texas was annexed to the United States, Mexico’s response was swift. Mexico declared war on the United States. The outcome of that conflict is well known to us all, as the United States acquired from Mexico the vast territory of the American Southwest from the Rio Grande to the Pacific Ocean. The battle of San Jacinto was the first giant step in the manifest destiny of the American people to span this continent with a nation dedicated to the ideals and principles of freedom and liberty. The same goals won this battle at San Jacinto one hundred fifty-five years ago. . . .
We hear it said today, “Texans are different.” If so, what makes us different? Could it have been the strong determination of those pioneers who came to this new land to establish their homes and their futures? Perhaps it was the knowledge that it was a new beginning, a time to dream, a time to work, a time to realize at long last their goals in life. Texas offered all of this. Did this dedication to these goals help form the character of future generations of Texans? These Texians, all, gave us a rich heritage. Whether you are native-born Texas or Texans-by-choice, these men and women were our Texas beginning.
I shall not be so bold as to tell you “what makes a Texan.” . . . I have given you some of the events that have had an influence on Texans. You must draw your own conclusions.
To those of us who are so proud of being native-born Texans, let us always remember our ancestors were Texans-by-choice!
Notes:
1 Alex Haley, Roots: The Saga of an American Family (New York: Doubleday, 1976).
2 James Donovan, in his carefully researched book on the battle of the Alamo, The Blood of Heroes: The 13-Day Struggle for the Alamo—and the Sacrifice that Forges a Nation (New York: Little, Brown & Co, 2012), provides additions and deletions from other researchers. Nevertheless, the number of defenders from the official Alamo still remains 189.
3 We Texans are tellers of tall tales—and that includes the number of Mexican casualties during the assault of the Alamo. According to best records, which were calculated by the Mexican army itself, the number of Mexican dead was probably about seventy-five killed outright and approximately three hundred wounded, some seventy-five of whom died later of their wounds. See Donovan, The Blood of Heroes, 455–6n.
4 The battle of Coleto Creek, March 19–20, 1836.
5 The supposed promise to return the prisoners of war back to the United States was ten days, not eight.
6 According to the Texas State Historical Association the number executed was 342 with twenty-eight having escaped.
7 As quoted in Stephen L. Moore, Eighteen Minutes: The Battle of San Jacinto and the Texas Independence Campaign (Dallas: Republic of Texas Press, 2004), 249. Moore claims that it was Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Somervell of the First Regiment who made the remark about prisoners.
8 The Alamo, dir. John Wayne (Burbank: Batjac Productions, 1960).
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Dios y Tejas.
What amazingly brave people! It must have been great to hear her speech in person. She sounds like a wonderful lady! 🤠 ⭐