History illuminated as the sun sets on Ranger

gnome and a guy dressed like Zorro met for a virtual happy hour Tuesday, hours after the College Council at San Antonio College voted unanimously to expel the Ranger mascot.

Sitting in his home office, the Zorro-like figure peered into his computer’s camera and adjusted his flat-topped, flat-brimmed sombrero cordobés. He didn’t wear his Lone Ranger mask.

“I wore it for a while, but then some people thought it hinted at the image of a lawless, masked bandido, so it was decided I should ditch it,” the guy formerly known as San Antonio College’s mascot explained. “I thought the look was rakish, maybe a bit naughty … but certainly not offensive.”

The Gnome Ranger, Zooming from the backyard, nodded knowingly while pointing at his tan vest and pointy cowboy hat, a summer cocktail in his hand.

“It’s not the look. It’s the ‘Ranger’ part that’s the problem,” the gnome said, taking a swig and swatting away a fly with the phone.

“You could have been dressed like a park ranger. Or an Army Ranger. Or even Aragorn from ‘Lord of the Rings.’ Back in the 1920s, when San Antonio College chose a Ranger in cowboy gear as its mascot, the Texas Rangers enjoyed the ultimate good guy image even though as a group they were known and feared for doing terrible things in what we now know as South Texas. In the spirit of seeing history clearly instead of selectively, the image of the Ranger is not one that fits a South Texas community college anymore.”

“Yes, that means you and I are out,” Antonio said. “And it’s not Zorro cancel culture.”

“It’s not,” the gnome said. “This isn’t about you. It’s not even about present-day Texas Rangers. It’s about a place of higher education recognizing a history that people along the border have spoken of for generA ations. It’s not as if the survivors of violence at the hands of the early Texas Rangers didn’t pass down those stories — they did. The Rangers were created to take care of one group of people by taking care of other groups, if you know what I mean.”

“History can be uncomfortable,” Antonio said, reading from his smartphone. “The Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum website’s brief history of the Rangers tells us that when this land was still Mexico, Stephen F. Austin was told if he could get these parts populated with Americans and Europeans willing to become Spanish-speaking Mexican Catholics, he’d be rewarded with land, titles and power.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well with the people who were already living the dream here,” the gnome said, clinking the ice cubes in his drink.

“Cowboy lore and the storied Old West might have painted the taming of this untamed land in nostalgic sepia, but the people who were killed and whose lives were upended have a different view of history. And because we expect more from colleges and universities than we do from old radio shows and cowboy novels, it makes sense to recognize the whole story.”

“You know,” Antonio said, sipping his second glass of wine, “what if I said this feels like another lefty indoctrination move on the part of liberal academia? Or a knee-jerk consequence of the tear-down-the-statue zeitgeist?”

“Then I’d have to replace that sombrero with a dunce cap. Just because one side of the story has gotten more run doesn’t mean that seeing the entire story amounts to revisionism,” the gnome said, taking off his conical hat and wiping his brow.

“Colleges and universities need to lead the way when it comes to righting social wrongs. If you ask me, suiting the two of us up as mascots was just a way to soften the word ‘Ranger.’ It is long past time for a change.”

“Telling the whole story is important,” Antonio said, raising his glass and clinking the screen in agreement.

“Even when it’s embarrassing,” the Gnome Ranger said to the Masked Ranger.

Bob Owen / Staff file photo With his masked buddy, San Antonio College’s Gnome Ranger ponders his exit.