On the Lone Star trail
Isabel Conway goes in search of the old Texan west… its cowboys, Comanches and an Irish flag dispute
The voice at the Fort Worth Dallas airport luggage belt drawls: ‘Howdy ma’am, can I help you young lady.’ A pair of tanned hands, protruding from braided cuffs is already grabbing my bulging suitcase.
Under his wide-brimmed Stetson the owner of those helping hands has the look of Bobby Ewing. Baby-faced little brother Ewing was the first TV soap star I had a youthful crush on during those 13 addictive years of Dallas.
I am here in the Lone Star state to relive the excitement of spaghetti westerns, get out there in that colossal landscape with the cowboys, pay homage at the Alamo shrine to the Texan rebels in San Antonio.
After a visit to the Cowgirl museum and Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Fort Worth I aim to pick up some fab western fashion (including shiny boots) fit for a rodeo queen before heading down to Billy Bob’s, the world’s largest honky-tonk.
‘Texas… they still think they’re a republic, they’re always brag-
ging about being so big,’ I was warned back East. Texans do revel in their history and being big (one advertisement for toilet paper says ‘big enough for Texans’). I expect they can chomp through steaks the size of an iceberg and they deliver a big hearty welcome.
Jacki Loyall, ‘Journey Ambassador’ at Hilton Hotel Fort Worth says: ‘You’ve come awl daat way from Euuroop... miih.’ Marking my card about the men who strut around the stockyards, she adds: ‘ Just cause they wear the boots aan big haats don’ makem cowboys honey.’
Directly across from the front entrance to hotel Hilton is John F Kennedy Tribute Park. The hotel has a JFK suite, walls bedecked in photos. John F Kennedy spent his last night here in the thenHotel Texas.
After addressing a large waiting crowd outside next morning his motorcade departed for nearby Dallas on November 22, 1963, the final moments of a more innocent America ticking away.
Fort Worth began life as a rough and tumble frontier stop of muddy streets and clapboard shacks, dusty and lawless where men were measured by how fast they could draw their gun and how much whiskey they could drink.
Today it is a stylish city of gleaming oil-rich skyscrapers, museums supported by wealthy benefactors, outstanding downtown urban renewal and an authentic 15-block historic stockyards area with an original indoor rodeo among its many western attractions.
A walking tour at your own pace is a good introduction to downtown, following a heritage trail of bronze plaques honouring people and events that shaped Fort Worth’s chequered history.
One plaque tells the story of Cynthia Ann Parker, captured by Comanches at the age of nine, who married a war chief with whom she had three children (one of whom, Quanah, became friend of US Presidents and a businessman). Cynthia died lonely and sad, yearning for her life in the tribe after being recaptured by Texan Rangers decades later and returned to the white community.
Another sign marks Hell’s Half Acre, Fort Worth’s notorious district of saloons, dance halls, gambling parlours and bordellos where ‘the ordinary murderer and the average cowboy’ partied.
At Lonesome Dove western bistro I meet writer-historian Douglas Harman who points out the two entrance doors and a separated dining area that used to segregate the races. Taking a bite from his ‘delicious’ local speciality rabbit and rattlesnake sausage he says: ‘Irish Kate was one of the most notable and successful ladies of the night, a high earning prostitute, here in the
1880s. Our records show a lot of the soldiers and newcomers came from Ireland.’
Arriving at Wildcatter Ranch hidden away in rugged hill country peppered with Blue Bonnies (the Texan national flower) 90 miles northwest of Fort Worth, we might have stumbled in exhausted off the Chisholm cattle trail, survived an Indian skirmish or even a stage coach hold up (all possible back in the day) such was the welcome and hospitality here.
A modern-day pioneer, Ann Street Skipper created Wildcatter (the oil term for those who take a chance and drill without knowing what might be down there) a working ranch hotel resort and spa overlooking the Brazos River from virgin territory. The last Indian reservation of Texas was located on the other side of the river.
Each of Wildcatter’s rustic luxury log cabins has a different theme drawn from the history of the area. Ann’s forefathers founded the nearby town of Graham and she grew up on the stories of frontier life – gunfights, posses chasing outlaws across the range, Indian ambushes and dramatic breakouts from the county jail.
My cabin was devoted to the legendary saga of the Marlow brothers whose tragic and violent story inspired the John Wayne movie The Sons Of Katie Elder. After escaping from jail they were captured close by in a shoot out with ‘the law’.
A trail ride on a placid horse curiously named Wildfire through some of the 1,500-acre ranch with real-life cowboy Clint West was like being in a western movie. Buzzards circle above us ‘looking for some dead critters’ as I hope and pray that sudden noise like scattering pebbles among the cacti is not a rattlesnake.
San Antonio is a 45-minute flight south of Fort Worth. Remember the Alamo? Of course you do and so do more than 2.5 million visitors who visit the historic site each year. Yet it comes as something of a shock to find the Alamo is bang in the centre of this charming city of canals and Spanish-style buildings surrounded by hotels and plenty of souvenir shops.
There are lots of guided tours, also down to the famous mission of San Jose a few miles south and a nightly $15 ghost tour conducted by the costumed Grimm Sisters which I took. Expect some ghoulish entertainment, while you find your bearings and walk off that great dinner from one of the nearby River Walk restaurants.
The Alamo was the scene of a 13-day siege and bloody battle back in 1836 led by Davy Crockett and James Bowie. Most of the hardy ragtag of Texan rebels who remained to the bitter end were from Scotland and Northern Ireland.
Dr Bruce Winders, curator of the Alamo explains: ‘ We hung the Ulster flag inside the church to honour the Irish heroes but changed it to the tricolour 17 years ago. We do get protests from Ulster people who want their flag back. We say we’re looking into it… and I guess we are.’
Stay at least four or five days in San Antonio to see the sights properly. The Pearl Brewery district of cosy cafés and upscale dining is a nice detour and you should explore by river taxi.
The Missions of San Antonio aiming for world heritage UNESCO status are also a must. Here, like nowhere else, Texan history truly stands still.