Remembering LBJ

The presidency of LBJ coincides roughly with my teenage years. Looking back, his presence looms large over my passage into adulthood. Most of us who are old enough to remember Lyndon Johnson will probably recall the vivid last months of his presidency. The American public had grown tired and disillusioned with the Vietnam War, and maverick Senator Eugene McCarthy had won surprising early primary victories against a sitting president. The final blow was the entry of Robert Kennedy into the primaries - even the brother of his ticket mate had turned against him.

A weary and defeated LBJ made his fateful decision: "I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my party for another term as your President."

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LBJ has been part of my family history for as long as I can remember. My maternal Grandmother voted for the young Congressman in the depths of the Great Depression. It didn't take long for LBJ to gain the fierce loyalty of his poor rural constituency.

It was the common wisdom of the day that a Republican could not be elected dogcatcher in Texas. The loyalty to Johnson (and the Democratic Party) would last for decades. Not until Nixon's "Southern Strategy," would the tide begin to turn. Along with the new prosperity, a wave of Republicanism swept the Lone Star State. It seemed Texans had forgotten their humble past.

Certainly LBJ never forgot his past. He was born in 1908 near Stonewall, in a small farmhouse on the Pedernales River. Despite the poverty of his childhood, this land never lost its hold on him. As family fortunes improved, Congressman (and later Senator) Johnson built a sprawling
ranch home that became a hub of political activity.

The LBJ Ranch is now a part of the National Park System, and is open to the public. Rangers lead guided tours of the home (no interior photographs are permitted, unfortunately). The residence, although large, is quite unpretentious, with plain furnishings. It's very little different from other ranch dwellings of the era.

The only hint that this was not an ordinary residence are the ubiquitous telephones in every room, and the Secret Service command center in an adjacent trailer.

In the old airplane hanger are some of LBJ's favorite vehicles. I love the Ford Phaeton from the thirties and the classic Continentals. One of Johnson's infamous pranks was to take foreign dignitaries on a tour of his ranch, head straight for the water, and scream "the brakes are out!" Of course, he neglected to mention the convertible they were riding in was amphibious.

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Despite the tragic end of his presidency, Johnson will be remembered as central figure in the reconstruction of the nation, first as an ally of FDR, and later shepherding the civil rights and voting rights measures through Congress.

Johnson was the greatest master of getting things done in Washington. His powers of persuasion were honed to perfection in a technique known as "The Treatment."

"Historians Caro and Dallek consider Lyndon Johnson the most effective Senate majority leader in history. He was unusually proficient at gathering information. One biographer suggests he was "the greatest intelligence gatherer Washington has ever known", discovering exactly where every Senator stood, his philosophy and prejudices, his strengths and weaknesses, and what it took to win him over. Robert Baker claimed that Johnson would occasionally send senators on NATO trips in order to avoid their dissenting votes. Central to Johnson's control was "The Treatment", described by two journalists:

The Treatment could last ten minutes or four hours. It came, enveloping its target, at the LBJ Ranch swimming pool, in one of LBJ's offices, in the Senate cloakroom, on the floor of the Senate itself — wherever Johnson might find a fellow Senator within his reach.

Its tone could be supplication, accusation, cajolery, exuberance, scorn, tears, complaint and the hint of threat. It was all of these together. It ran the gamut of human emotions. Its velocity was breathtaking, and it was all in one direction. Interjections from the target were rare. Johnson anticipated them before they could be spoken. He moved in close, his face a scant millimeter from his target, his eyes widening and narrowing, his eyebrows rising and falling. From his pockets poured clippings, memos, statistics. Mimicry, humor, and the genius of analogy made The Treatment an almost hypnotic experience and rendered the target stunned and helpless."

Image via Wikipedia

One last picture, and we're on our way home.

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Zephyr Nods in Your Direction

Our youngest family member is Zephyr, a five year old Paint. He resides at a ranch near Luling, Texas, until he can join us after we retire and move to the country.

(Video editing by Sandy)

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The Mystery Ranch

The Light of the World illuminates rural Texas.






If you take a spin on the interstate, cruising east along I-10 past Seguin, you will see something rather curious and unexpected. Off to your right, in place of the usual cow pastures, mesquites, and cacti, arises a bizarre vision. A Shrine Circus with minaret domes, perhaps? An Algerian village abducted by aliens and plopped down in the vastness of central Texas?


We've passed it dozens of times and had fun speculating as to its nature and origin. Finally I decide to investigate this mystery - armed with a single clue: an ornate sign along the highway proclaiming the Silver Wolf Ranch.



Information about the ranch is not easy to find, but I did run across an archived article in the San Antonio Express-News:


"KINGSBURY — Almost every day, at least a few of the 27,600 motorists who drive Interstate 10 through this speck of a ranching community pull over to check out a curious fenced ranch just off the highway.

Easily visible from the interstate, twin white domes of a massive structure poke up like mushrooms from the private 340-acre forested reserve. A giant bronze bison statue stands in plain view, as do live stick-legged emus and ostriches.

But tourists never get through the well-appointed limestone facade entrance that beckons them into the Silver Wolf Ranch. As they have for 10 years since the property came under new ownership, polite Spanish-speaking workers shoo away the camera-toting motorists with the same unrequited promise: The ranch is just about to open.

The land, a 40-minute drive from San Antonio, remains just as enigmatic to immediate neighbors left to ruminate — sometimes darkly — about relentless construction activity, howls of unseen wolves, reports of gun-carrying guards, and especially the tint-windowed SUV caravans for which the gates do occasionally open.

“I don't know nothing; I don't want to get involved,” said neighbor Jesse Weinaug, who owns a cattle ranch next door. “They don't come over here. I don't go over there. It ain't none of my business.”

The property, it turns out, is the private playground of a Mexican family that has grown immensely wealthy and politically powerful while ruling as a dynasty over the controversial religious denomination known as Iglesia La Luz del Mundo, or the Light of the World Church.



The Pentecostal-like denomination's supreme leader, the iconoclastic 71-year-old Apostle Samuel Joaquin Flores, is viewed as a messianic figure to be worshipped as a direct link to God and obeyed by church faithful in Mexico and abroad.

Some of Joaquin's nine grown children, themselves considered quasi-divine royalty, have transformed their Texas land into a lavish private zoo-themed family retreat for their father's enjoyment on the scale of some owned by American pop stars or Saudi oil sheiks.

The Guadalajara, Mexico-headquartered denomination, which claims 5 million members worldwide, a figure disputed by some religion researchers, is not without some tenacious allegations of wrongdoing against Joaquin involving abusive treatment of followers."

The Silver Wolf Ranch remains as mysterious as ever, but (at least so far) there have been no threats against neighbors or any hint of confrontation. Texans are wont to mind their own business, and the Light of the World people aren't acting like Branch Davidians or the infamous "Republic of Texas."

Image via Wikipedia

La Luz del Mundo headquarters, Guadalajara

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You Really Can Go Home Again...

You really can go home again...

...Even if home is not quite the same.

It's a nice, warm Sunday afternoon. Of course, when I say "warm" that really means hot enough to melt the rubber on your tires down to the rims...a typical South Texas summer day. This ain't Phoenix, friends...it's not a dry heat. In fact, the air has a suffocating molasses thickness that discourages all but the most foolhardy from venturing from their air-conditioned cocoons.

Speaking of foolhardy, that naturally brings to mind Rick and Sandy. We decide it's the perfect occasion to visit my dad's childhood home in McMahan, Texas.

Grandfather Riley, and his wife Myrtle, raised my dad Monroe (known by his middle name Hulon) and a flock of brothers and sisters. Thelma May (b 1911), Roy Lafayette, Willie Missouri, Monroe Hulon (b August 1915), Glenn Randolf (b January 1917), Anthia Thira (b April 1919), Cynthia Eliza (b 1921), Beatrice Illine (b 1922), Mattie Evelyn (b 1925), and George Marlon (b 1927) made up the clan. The snapshot above is the family homestead.

A few miles down the road was the general store, still standing (although it's sadly no longer a country store). It's some kind of nightspot, now:

When I was a child, this store was still open with its barrels of staple foodstuffs. It didn't survive the advent of convenience stores, big grocery chains, and Walmart. If we're truly looking at the long downslope of peak oil, as geologists claim, maybe the general store will make a comeback.

Right across the street from the general store was the McMahan post office, which along with the Baptist Church formed the backbone of depression-era small town Texas.

Fill 'er up, and check the oil.

Just up the hill is the Bethel Primitive Baptist Church (my Mom, who attended the "regular" Baptist Church, called them "Hardshells"). The Hardshells sang traditional shaped-note hymns without accompaniment, and Bethel still hosts groups such as the Sacred Harp Singers who keep the tradition alive.

Next to the Bethel Church is the Jeffrey Cemetery, the final resting place of my father and mother, my brother Michael, and in due course my own.

In the end, we really do return home.

The Gingerbread Castle

Caldwell County Courthouse in Lockhart, Texas


"The cornerstone was laid on August 15, 1893 and the building was completed on March 19, 1894. Built by the architectural firm of Martin, Byrnes and Johnston, the structure features mansard roofs and a high central tower with a four way Seth Thomas clock. The three-story edifice is built of Muldoon limestone with red Pecos sandstone trim. Although originally equiped with electricity, the courthouse had no indoor plumbing. Broom closets were later converted into restrooms. It is said that when the first water bill was received, the county judge was so shocked at the charges that he padlocked the restrooms. After a ten year effort involving hundreds of people in the county, a complete historic restoration was completed in the spring of 2000. The courthouse was rededicated in April 2000. "

http://www.lockhart-tx.org/web98//history/caldwellcountycourthouse.asp









While you're in Lockhart, it would be a crime not to stop in at Kreuz Market and pick up a couple of links of sausage and some barbecue. The smokehouse may look like a scene from Dante's Inferno, but the eatin' is pure heaven.

Kreuz Market has been around since 1900. The building above is a new location, although the Kreuz's I remember from my childhood is still standing - now known as Smitty's.


















Take a look at:

Rick's Photoblog

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