a flicker of the soul - chandler ranch · 2018. 1. 19. · locals of the big bend & davis...

THIRD QUARTER 2016

“Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.” Muhammad Ali

The Last Prehistoric Buffalo Hunt • Big Bend Eats • Chandler Ranch • Folkways Voices of the Big Bend • Little Explorers in the Big Bend • Photo Essay • Poetry • Stylle Read

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CenizoThird Quarter 20162

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A Flicker of the SoulLYRICS, STORIES AND WRITINGS

A new book by Ken WhitleyAvailable at Front Street Books, Paisano Hotel and Amazon Books

3CenizoThird Quarter 2016

DAVID LOREN BASS

El Polvo Adobe, 2016 Oil on Canvas 12 x 16 Inches

Paintings of New Mexico and Texas

davidlorenbass.com • [email protected]

Greasewood GalleryEl Paisano Hotel

Marfa, TX

V-6 Collection Gage Hotel

Marathon, TX

Hand Artes GalleryTruchas, NM


STYLLEREADStory and photos by Rani Birchfield

Texas native Stylle Read is knownthroughout the state for his muralsdepicting local history and lore. His pic-

torial histories grace the insides and outsides ofcommercial buildings across the South and theSouthwest, but he’s most prolific in Texas.Read has become one of our documentarians,illustrating our past and present on oversizedvenues.

Painted walls go by many names, the mostcommon being murals, street art or graffiti.What’s the difference? Perhaps it’s money andintent, but Wikipedia (yes, Wikipedia becauseit’s simple and clear) defines Street Art as:

“visual art created in public locations, usuallyunsanctioned artwork executed outside of the context oftraditional art venues.”

Murals are usually agreements between theproperty owner and an artist. Payment is ren-dered to the artist, and the art itself is oftentimeslicensed and owned. Street art is more demo-cratic – art for the public not limited to galleriesand unable to be “owned” by just one person,although murals have the same overall effect interms of who can view them. Graffiti is typical-ly spray art done without permission from thebuilding owners. The basic difference is permis-sion – with permission, it’s art; without, it’s van-dalism. (There are, of course, gray areas – thinkBanksy and Shepard Fairey.)

Humankind has been painting on walls for

continued on page 25


Table of Contents

4 Rani Birchfield Stylle Read

6 Carolyn Brown Zniewski Cenizo NotesDanielle Gallo

8 Howdy-Nocoma Fowler The Last Prehistoric Buffalo Hunt

9 Maya Brown Zniewski Folkways

Julia Kennedy Kirkland PoetryLarry D. Thomas Jim Wilson

12 Jeremy Gonzalez Rebirth of Chandler Ranch

15 Johanna Nelson Salsa Stories

16 Bill Smith Cyrus M. “Charlie” Wilson

Carol Townsend Photo Essay

20 Jim Glendinning Voices of the Big Bend

22 Danielle Gallo Little Explorers in the Big Bend

27 Carolyn Brown Zniewski Big Bend Eats

Danielle Gallo Trans-Pecos Trivia


Cenizo Journa lVolume 8 Number 3

CONTRIBUTORSRani Birchfield is a writer and traveler experiencing the small-town, big-sky life of theBig Bend region. She’s a coffee addict andbeach lover who’s coming to face the realitythat normal days don’t always consist of suchthings. Ok, maybe the coffee. Feel free to emailher and tell her a story. e-mail: [email protected]

Julia Kennedy Kirkland is a writer, poet,and fifth generation Texan. She lives in Austinwith her husband and four children, but muchof the dust of West Texas - where her folks live- has found its way into her soul. e-mail:[email protected]

Howdy-Nocona Fowler was born andraised on the Klamath Indian Reservation inSE Oregon. He has contributed to The RockyMountain News, Western Horseman, Mules and Moreand Cowboy Magazine. e-mail: [email protected]

Danielle Gallo is a writer who is proud to bethe editor of the Cenizo Journal. She came to thearea in 2002 and currently lives in Marathonwith her family. e-mail: [email protected]

Jim Glendinning, an Oxford-educated Scot,lives in Alpine. The story of his travels, FootlooseScot, has just been published, as has LegendaryLocals of the Big Bend & Davis Mountains forArcadia Press. e-mail: [email protected]

Jeremy Gonzalez is a staff reporter for theFort Stockton Pioneer. He always has a cup of coffee on his desk. His wife is his cure forwriter’s block, and if he were an animal, hewould be a chameleon: colorful, adaptive andchill. e-mail: [email protected]

C. W. (Bill) Smith is a writer, historian, andcurator of the Terrell County MemorialMuseum. e-mail: [email protected]

Johanna Nelson was born in far East Texasand moved to far West Texas when she was19. Currently she lives a bit north up the RioGrande in Santa Fe, NM. She paints, works ineconomic development, cooks salsa and misses

West Texas fiercely. She’s currently workingon a book of Salsa Stories. e-mail: [email protected]

Carol Townsend With 35 years of experi-ence, Carol’s portfolio is filled with the floraand fauna of Big Bend. She sells her work on-line or at the small photo and crafts shop sheshares with her daughter, Bonnie: CactusFlower on Hwy 90, in Marathon. e-mail:[email protected].

Larry D. Thomas is a member of the TexasInstitute of Letters and was privileged to serveas the 2008 Texas Poet Laureate. His Larry D.Thomas: New and Selected Poems (TCU Press,2008) was a semi-finalist for the National BookAward. e-mail: [email protected]

Jim Wilson is a 66-year-old retiredVeterinarian living in the country betweenAustin and Houston. He grew up in LoboValley south of Van Horn. He began writingpoetry in 2000. He has published five booksof poetry. He loves the Big Bend countrymore than any place on earth. e-mail: [email protected]

Carolyn Brown Zniewski started her publishing career at age nine, publishing aone- page neighborhood newsletter called TheCircle. From 1992 – 2006 she wrote a recipecolumn for two neighborhood newspapers inMinneapolis, MN. In 2013, she started publishing the Cenizo. e-mail: [email protected]

Maya Brown Zniewski is an herbalist andsoapmaker who enjoys frequent visits to theBig Bend area. Her handmade salves, soapsand tinctures are available at her website,mayamade.net. e-mail: [email protected]

Cover: Road Rules by Billy L. Keen at BrothersFine Art in Marfa. Photograph by RaniBirchfield.

Copy editor: Rani Birchfield

SUBSCRIPTIONSCenizo Journal will be mailed direct for $25.00 annually.

Make checks payable to: Cenizo Journal, P.O. Box 2025, Alpine, Texas 79831, or through Paypal at cenizojournal.com

SUBMISSIONDeadline for advertising and editorial for the Fourth Quarter 2016 issue: August 15, 2016.

Art, photographic and literary works may be e-mailed to the Editor.For advertising rates or to place an ad, contact: [email protected]

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Cenizo Notesby Carolyn Brown Zniewski, publisher and Danielle Gallo, editor

Published by Cenizo Journal LLCP.O. Box 2025, Alpine, Texas 79831

www.cenizojournal.com

CENIZO JOURNAL STAFFPUBLISHER

Carolyn Brown [email protected]

BUSINESS MANAGERLou Pauls

[email protected]

EDITOR Danielle Gallo

[email protected]

WEB MANAGERMaya Brown Zniewski

mayamadeapothecary @gmail.com

ADVERTISING Rani Birchfield

[email protected]

DESIGN/PRODUCTIONWendy Lynn Wright

[email protected]

It’s summer andJuly 4th has alwaysbeen the most sum-

mer of holidays. It isthe day each year ourcountry has set aside tocelebrate the scrappybeginnings of a democ-racy.

My history profes-sor, who taught

American Colonial History, used to say oldTom Jefferson, Ben Franklin and JamieHamilton didn’t know what they were reallygetting us all into when they wrote andsigned that Declaration of Independence.They just wanted to be in charge of their ownaffairs. Rather like a teenager telling his momand dad, “I’m 18 now and you can’t tell mewhat to do. I’ll make my own decisions.”

Now we’ve traveled 240 years down theroad and it turns out there is a lot more torunning our country than Tom and Ben andJamie could have ever imagined. This sum-mer will likely be one that goes down in thehistory books. Likely as not, everyone here inBig Bend has had a few thoughts about thepolitics of it all. This little journal is a quieteddy that you can sit back and enjoy withoutthe clamor of worldly politics. Hop into yourhammock, read the Cenizo and de-stress.That’s what we are here for.

Ilove summer in theBig Bend, when youstep outside and you

can smell the calichebaking. I love the blastof radiation off thewhite clay, how the heatawakens every cell ofskin, the sunburns onthe underside of mynostrils, the shrunken

tiles of desert I can lift and crumble betweenmy fingers. Running a hand over the cracklingbark of a juniper in July. Sipping water spikedwith pink salt from a plastic milk jug gone allpliable in the heat, the water sometimes too hotagainst my lips. The way small creatures soundlike rampaging buffalo in the dry grasses.

Now that I have little ones, I find myselfinsisting on all the things I used to scorn. Hats,long sleeves, sunglasses, sunscreen. Siesta inthe shade until evening, morning expeditionscut short by ten-thirty, drinking from jelly jars(do you know what’s IN milk jug plastic?!),checking their temperature, exhorting them toslow down, slow down, slow down. Watch forwasps. Let me check for snakes. Don’t touchthat tree, there might be spiders or scorpionsor evil baby-kidnapping gnomes. I havebecome a crazy person.

This issue of Cenizo is all about getting outand exploring. From the pioneering founderof Sanderson to the newly-revitalizedChandler Ranch, Big Bend history is all aboutgetting dirty and preserving a sense of wonder.Come with us and meet Stylle Read, who cap-tures the sweeping landscapes and iconoclastresidents of the Trans-Pecos in murals fit forTexas; plan a trip with your family that willchallenge and inspire you and your little ones;stop for the supreme cooling of a local can-taloupe and meet the stories behind the salsa.We’re pleased to have you along.

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Visit your local library

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Bison antiquus, or ancient buffalo,were big, 25 percent bigger thana modern American buffalo.

The bulls weighed in excess of 3,500pounds and were ill-tempered anddangerous – you did not trifle withthem. From 18,000 to 10,000 B.C.these ancient buffalo roamed in abun-dant large herds, throughout WestTexas and Big Bend country beforethey became extinct, ca. 10,000. Backthen you didn’t just drive to your localstore to get meat; you had to hunt itdown and get it yourself.

As a kid growing up, I was fascinat-ed by the scientific art renderings doneby primitive man regarding huntingthese huge beasts with just rocks, clubsand spears. Having worked with andgrown up around modern buffalo all ofmy life, I thought I had a pretty goodunderstanding of what those earlyhunters were up against. I’m not talk-ing about the gallant Plains Indian gal-loping across the prairie on his favoritebuffalo horse in pursuit of modern buf-falo for his evening meal. Nor do Imean the highly-organized tribal huntssurrounding and driving herds overthe now-famous buffalo jumps, like the

one at theB o n f i r eS h e l t e rl o c a t e dn e a rLangtry,T e x a s .I’m talk-ing aboutd o w n -

and-dirty hunts: primitive men on footwith sticks and rocks trying to harvestthe meat from an animal the size of amodern three-quarter-ton pickuptruck. Just three or four men with sim-ple clubs, maybe an atlatl, and home-made spears not much longer than theaverage hippie’s walking stick, huntingand killing an Antiquus bison. Add tothe mix a mammal that is not too keenon ‘donating’ its hide and meat to thetribal cause and it was a very danger-ous mixture. Men could be crippledfor life or worse yet, end up dead withtheir families dying from starvation. Ittook tough men to step up to such achallenge – tough men driven byhunger.

Years ago I was getting ready for aupcoming trip down into old Mexico,so I started walking in the SacramentoMountains to get into shape. One daywhile walking I was thinking about theprehistoric buffalo hunters and I cameup with a great idea to have my ownbison hunt. Although no buffalo werearound, there were plenty of range cat-tle!! Soon I spied my first victim, aHereford cow munching on grass. Myplan was simple: sneak up on that cow

and touch her with my walking stick,kind of like counting coup. Herefordswere a good breed to start with, sincethey ain’t much smarter than a sheep.So I put the sneak on old bossy andwas doing pretty well, until for somereason she just walked away. I knewshe hadn’t seen me, but being on footthere was no use trying to catch up toher again. My near success made meeven more determined, and soon I wassearching for another unsuspectingbovine.

It didn’t take me long to get this‘buffalo hunting’ down. Soon I hadtagged eight or ten head of fake buffalo with my walking stick over a week’s time. One day I snuck upbehind a big calf on the edge of anarroyo, creeping up to him on my bellythrough the grass and weeds. I reachedout with my walking stick and pushedon his hip. He slowly turned towardsthe pressure and as he did, he acci-dently stepped off the edge of thearroyo. In slow motion he fell into thearroyo, slid down the wall and landedin the soft sand below, unhurt. I wasnot sure who was more surprised bythe outcome, the cow or myself, as hegalloped off in surprise. The one thingI had to be careful of when I touchedmost of those cattle was getting kicked.Most cows would jump and kick at mywalking stick or me when I touchedthem and counted a coup.

In a very short time I graduatedfrom slow dumb Herefords to the morealert and dangerous breeds like Angusand Brangus cattle. These were guar-

anteed kickers and they would attack ifcornered. One day I spotted my great-est challenge yet: a big massive Brangusbull. I did not hesitate to start stalkinghim, and because he was in a wide-open flat with no cover, it made myhunt even tougher, a real challenge. Icrawled on my belly for about 75 yards,stopping each time that he lifted hishead to chew. It took forever to sneakup on that big son-of-a-gun. Then,after what seemed a lifetime, I wasthere: ready to ‘spear’ that massive‘prehistoric buffalo.’ Grasping myspear (walking stick) I made my ‘kill.’

That’s when ALL HELL BROKELOOSE! The split second I bumpedhim with that walking stick, he notonly jumped and kicked that walkingstick out of my hand and sent it flying,but he whirled around and attackedme. He had me pinned to the ground.He blew snot all over the front of myshirt as I rolled to get away, bellowingloudly right in my face. The wholetime he had his front feet placed oneon each side of my head, throwing dustall over me as he raked his hornlesshead all over my upper body. Asquickly as it began it was over. He spunaway and took off across that flat in adead run!

I lay there for what seemed like for-ever, taking an extensive inventory ofmy body parts. It was then and there Ichanged my vocation from ‘PrehistoricBuffalo Hunter’ to Team Roper. I’mheaded to the store to BUY somesteaks; if ya’ll need me to pick some-thing up for ya, let me know.

By Ted Lee Eubanks, Jr./FERMATA Inc

The LastPrehistoricBuffalo Huntby Howdy-Nocona Fowler


Glorious Goldenrod! Youknow those beautiful goldenflowers that grow by the side

of the road, in ditches and along thefence line? You do! You’ve seenthem! That is Goldenrod. If you’veheard disparaging things about love-ly Goldenrod, that she’s a wasteweed or she causes seasonal allergies,you have heard lies. She is a beauti-ful and useful flower. I have nevermet anyone who is allergic toGoldenrod. It is a member of theaster family of plants, which includesdaisies. Goldenrod has very small,very sticky pollen and as we all knowit’s the pollen that generally causesallergies. Goldenrod pollen sticksvery, very well to bees and to itselfbut does not float or fly in the air asother kinds of pollen do, so you arehighly unlikely to be allergic to it.There is another plant that growsright next to her, without thosebeautiful golden blooms, calledRagweed. Many people are allergicto that.

Goldenrod’s Latin name is solida-go. There are hundreds of kinds ofsolidago, including common nameslike winter and Canadian.Goldenrod grows all over NorthAmerica and in Europe. She isgrown in yards all over the world. Asif to counteract her reputation as aseasonal allergen, Goldenrod is usedto fight seasonal allergies: as a tea, atincture, in a popsicle, as a saladgreen or as a vinegar. In earliercolumns I’ve talked about how tomake tinctures. Here is a quickrecap: cut the top third of the above-ground plant, stuff the choppedGoldenrod in a glass jar with aboutone ounce of the plant to five ouncesof hard liquor (vodka or whiskey isgreat), put a lid on the jar. Let set for

six weeks. Strain the tincture, reserv-ing the liquid and composting theflower parts. A serving is a teaspoon(30-40 drops) two or three times aday.

You can make a Goldenrod teaby harvesting the upper third ofGoldenrod, stalks, leaves and flow-ers, chopping them up a little andpouring water, just off the boil, overa small handful of the tops ofGoldenrod. Wait a few minutes,strain and enjoy! For a therapeuticeffect drink three cups a day. Foracute situations of ragweed or otherpollen-induced respiratory reactions,drink five cups a day.

You can make Goldenrod tea as asweet tea, hot or cold. Try makingGoldenrod tea popsicles: Add a littleorange or cherry juice or make freshlemonade or limeade, for flavor, justas long as you are enjoyingGoldenrod. I make Goldenrodhoney by infusing the flowers inhoney and smearing on toast or on achicken to roast.

Goldenrod is noted especially forhealing respiratory issues like infec-tions, coughs and colds. (Have youever noticed how many plants arenoted for healing lung issues likecoughs and colds? I have a theory asto why, but that is for another day,another discussion.) Goldenrod isgood for healing skin issues like smallcuts, bug bites and rashes. So makethat tea, let it cool, place a cleancloth in the tea, squeeze it out andplace on the bug bite or rashy areauntil the cloth becomes warm. Soakthe cloth in the cooled tea again.You do not need to make fresh teaevery time.

Goldenrod in tea or tincture formalso helps with intestinal problemslike ulcers, or urinary tract problems.

Goldenrod increases urinary flow,helping your body rid itself of theseissues. Goldenrod is also very helpfulwith liver, vascular, and circulatoryhealth.

In addition to Goldenrod as a teaor tincture, she makes a wonderfulsalad ingredient, too. Just pluck thefresh, young leaves and add to yourfavorite salad.

Have you considered herbal vine-gars lately? You can add clean, cutup Goldenrod roots, flowers, leavesand stalks to apple cider vinegar. Do

not use metal when infusing thevinegar; metal reacts with the acidand makes vinegar go all wonky.After a couple of weeks strain out theplant parts and use the vinegar in asalad dressing or as you would allyour yummy vinegars. She makes agreat addition to your garden as welland is a favorite of honeybees. Thenext time you are headed out walk-ing and spy those happy bright flow-ers of Goldenrod, do not disparageher, but love her instead.

Story and photograph byMaya Brown Zniewski

GOLDENROD

Folkways


poetryJulia Kennedy Kirkland, Larry D. Thomas and Jim Wilson

The Tinaja

Nestledin the ancient,shrine-like rock of Hancock Hill, it sparkles

in the primeval darkness.Is it the lostsilver coin of a god?

Or the stars, banishedfrom the cosmos,assemblingin their secret,

rock-solidsanctuaryand dropping to their knees,for worship?

by Larry D. Thomas

Javelinas

Tusksglint in starlightlike shardsof sun-bleached bones.Swollen

by the presenceof feral hogs,the herd’s passagedown the arroyowill jar the darkness

with a distant rumble,loudeningas it descendsthe shuddering flanksof Hancock Hill,

raginglike a black flash floodto churn the stone-still ponderingof the water.

by Larry D. Thomas

Landscape of My Father

He smiled then, knowingthere were clouds snagged in his hair,slate mountain streams reflected in his eyes,desert grit silted between his toes.Rocky crags formed in the rifts of his knuckles,the hoof beats of a stag echoed in his pulse,a blue-gold arid sunrise spread wide across his heart,and the harsh cry of all creation soundeda wild orchestra in his soul.This was his salvation.This, his benediction.This, his home.

by Julia Kennedy Kirkland


Crawling Out From Under Partly Cloudy

Outside the tempest storms—wild West Texas:Thunder and lightning, wind and rain,Pea size hail, golf ball size hail, softball size hail,And TV touted tornado.

After a forever feeling—Angry attack of the elements is repelled.Sprinkling straggler raindropsPepper peeled, ragged roof remains.Final rolling thunder-gunsFire in the distance.

Is it over for the night?Sam will tell you on KTAB 32After a word from our sponsor,If you still have electricityIf you still have a houseIf you’re still alive.

Now truly! Our favoring God choiceAgain has regained control.Preserving our and HisLittle pseudo-religious communitySave a sacrificial bit of sinful materialism.We indeed praise the grace of Jesus.

by Jim Wilson

Annihilation

I smashed them flat.Sixteen, single family homesBuilt and cared for by single moms.

Bulldozed with the children in themOff the face of the earthNo trace remains.

No strip retail plansNo high rise condos coming,They were just ugly.

Red earth, dirt dobber nestsOn white Austin limestone walls,They were just ugly.

They had to go.No real substantial reasonJust a human being human.

by Jim Wilson


Ispend most of my days sitting in aswivel chair, resting my elbows onmy desk while I am typing up sto-

ries for the Fort Stockton Pioneer. Whenthe office phone rings I never knowwhat great opportunities are awaitingme on the other end of the line.

It was a typical Wednesday morn-ing when I got a special phone callfrom a nice guy named Joe A.Chandler. The Pioneer was going topress for its March 10th issue and hewas telling me all about the “rebirth”of a place called Chandler Ranch. Myears perked up when he mentionedthat the ranch has some of the purestwater in Texas flowing through it. Iaccumulated a good pile of pink post-itnotes as I jotted down the details heshared.

Charlie Chandler arrived in Texas

at the end of the 19th century. Hemarried Minerva O’Bryant in 1903and soon started ranching. In 1912Charlie’s son Joe was born. Joe’sgrandson, also named Joe, is the pres-ent owner.

In 1920 Charlie Chandler acquireda state permit to divert water from“public resources.” He became afarmer that raised grain, sugar cane,watermelons and the first and only cot-ton ever grown in the county. In the‘40s and ‘50s he divided his ranchamong his children, leaving Joe and hiswife Mildred with the guest ranch areathat visitors can explore today. On thatland Joe built the swimming pool,game room and cabin, and he clearedcampgrounds along the creek andriver.

The Chandler legacy began back in

the early ‘50s, and in 1954 a handful ofguest ranch facilities faced destructionfrom a historic flood. With hard workand extensive repairs, the ranch man-aged to recover and flourish as a pop-ular West Texas destination from the‘60s all the way to the ‘80s. It was well-known for its nine-hole golf course,and the ranch adopted a fun logo of afish with sunglasses holding a golf clubin its fin.

Unfortunately, the ranch graduallyfell off the radar as a popular destina-tion. Age and health problems led Joeand Mildred Chandler to close theranch to guests. The guest ranchremained closed to the public, and foryears it was only used for private hunt-ing leases through permission of theChandlers’ daughters, Charlena andJoBeth.

Grandson and fourth-generationChandler Joe A. didn’t want to see hisfamily’s guest ranch disappear. Hebegan the work of its restoration in2014 and has reopened ChandlerRanch to guests. Joe says, “The newwild is where people and nature thrivetogether.” By the end of our conversa-tion my coffee mug was empty, mynotes were gathered, and I took off onmy lunch break with a screwy “AceVentura” type of smile on my face. Icouldn’t contain my excitement. Mypublisher was all for it. I immediatelycalled my wife and said, “Babe, startpacking a suitcase. We’re taking a tripto Chandler Ranch.”

Our journey was a scenic and easytwo-hour drive from Fort Stockton tothe secluded guest ranch in Dryden,Texas. The approach to the guest

Rebirth of Chandler Ranchby Jeremy Gonzalez


quarters is a rare desert scene of oaksand glistening ponds. As you takeIndependence Creek Road, it leadsyou straight into the lodging area,revealing the creek for which the roadwas named. The Chandler Ranchshowcases the actual location wherethe Pecos River and IndependenceCreek collide in beautiful harmony.Rolling in from the flat landscape ofFort Stockton, I really enjoyed the ele-vation of the semi-arid EdwardsPlateau region. The ranch land issnuggled within a good scattering ofmesas. I had three words to say when Ifirst stepped out of my car: “Aahh,fresh air.” The atmosphere of theiracreage is so different from any otherWest Texas journey’s end. It’suntouched by civilization. It has itsown vibe, its own feel; it is a purely pri-vate location.

Upon arriving we were well-received and immediately greeted byeveryone out on the ranch. We weretaken to the Game Room where we allgot acquainted. The Game Room isthe oldest structure on the propertyand its makeover was exceptional. Forentertainment it has pool, ping-pong,and foosball. There is also a telescopeavailable for stargazers to enjoy atnight, enhanced by near-zero light pol-lution. It has a contemporary kitchenequipped with brand-new appliancesand excellent seating, so families canunwind and enjoy some home-cookedmeals prepared by Ranch chefRichard Jasso, Jr.

We sat down at an outdoor tablewith Joe, his sister Anne Vargas-Prada,and his brother-in-law, Jeff Rowes asRichard brought out a pot roast lunch,rounds of sweet tea and rich coconutcustard pie for dessert. Richard (whodoesn’t mind be addressed by his firstname) is such a humble chef; he point-ed out that life slows down at ChandlerRanch. My wife and I quickly realizedthat we were in the midst of some trulyamazing people. Jeff is an intellectualfrom Canada who is also a comedianby nature. Everything that came out ofhis mouth was either extremely pro-found or extremely funny. One thinghe said that really stuck with me wasthe most significant representation ofthe ranch’s motive.

“We’re not competing against otherregional attractions or destinations.Chandler Ranch is competing againstmodern technology, smart phones andvideo games. We’re trying to get par-ents and their kids to stop staring at

glowing rectangles and just enjoy beingoutside. There’s stunning naturalbeauty to behold.”

We took a break to unpack our lug-gage and get settled into our luxurious

lodge, the Cafe Cabin. Honestly, it feltlike we were house sitting a wealthyhome and we loved everything aboutit. It was fully modernized, decked out

with all the goods including coffeemaker and mini fridge. My wifeArmanda genuinely adored this cabin.She would often slip away to go relaxthere as I ran around barefoot in mycoonskin hat, a bit like Davy Crockett.

I was drawn to the water and did

not take this oasis for granted. JoeChandler often spotted me sitting inthe middle of Independence Creek,filling up my outdoor flask. I probablylooked like a nut, but Joe got me. The

abounding waters were just so amaz-ing for viewing, cooling down, andeven drinking. Yes, I was bold enoughto sip on the same waters that I knew

deer and other wildlife often drank. Ifthat’s not the best way to experience afresh water spring then I don’t knowwhat is.

The wildlife outnumbered thehuman population on ChandlerRanch by a long shot. There have

been sightings of mountain lions, foxes,raccoons, rabbits, beavers, possums,porcupines, bobcats, whitetail deer,occasional mule deer, javelina, turkey,quail, ducks, river birds, armadillo,and more. There even was a rare sight-ing of a black bear that might havewandered up from Mexico. I’m think-ing it followed the aroma of Richard’sbiscuits, made from scratch andsmothered in country gravy.

“There is a lot to be observed andstudied out here. Universities send stu-dents and faculty to study the freshwa-ter springs, oak tree regeneration,lizards, snakes, birds, mussels, turtles— everything under the sun seems tobe studied out here,” stated Joe.

The Chandlers, along withRichard, gave us a special, extensivetour of their vast property on aKawasaki “Mule” 4WD utility vehicle(comparable to a large golf cart).Guests can roam the ranch with aMule assigned for their stay. It was anabsolute honor for us to explore it withthe actual Chandler siblings. “I love towatch the large catfish swim out fromunderneath the big rocks. Sometimesyou can walk up to the edge and see abig tail popping out from so many cat-fish being gathered together. On stilldays with no wind, the water looks likeglass, and you can see the fish perfect-ly as they swim by. It’s fantastic,” Anntold us at a spot where she had herbrother pull over.

We visited a forested area of oakswhere we found Jeff scaling up a cliff.We loved Jeff; he was so unpredictable!We also visited a canopy of oak trees ata spot know as “Shady Oaks,” wheregangs of turkeys ran wild in the abun-dant shade. My favorite stop was at thebreathtaking bluffs that towered abovethe beach area at the convergence ofIndependence Creek and the PecosRiver. The Chandler Ranch holds oneof the oldest Texas water rights and isthe only ranch allowed to pump waterout of the creek. The state monitorstheir water and specialists have recog-nized Independence Creek’s springs asproducing some of the cleanest waterin the Lone Star State.

In the evening we all sat around thedinner table to have a meal together.Richard whipped up some country-style fried chicken and those scrump-tious homemade biscuits. This is thestuff of peace and smiles: sitting with


Jenny and Charlena Chandler posing with Charlie Chandler, great-grandfather to Joe A. Chandler, and aranch employee in front of two bucks

JoBeth, Charlena, Joe B. Chandler, grandfather of Joe A. Chandler, at the old wagon wheels near theentrance of the ranch


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people I just met in the morning andfeeling like family by evening. JoeChandler rolled up his sleeves andmade some peach cobbler that wouldhave Paula Deen asking for the recipe.I have never before met a CEO thatgot in the kitchen and served instead ofbeing served.

We all migrated outside, feeling asrelaxed as vanilla ice cream melting oncobbler, and watched the sun go

down. Then we sat under a spectacu-lar view of the starlit sky. Joe andRichard lit a fire and turned up thecountry tunes, and we stayed up talk-ing about everything from the historyof the ranch to the drinks that weorder from Starbucks. When my wifeand I got back to the cabin, we were sorelaxed we sank into the soft sheets.We couldn’t help but discuss the high-lights of our personal visit to ChandlerRanch. The crystal clear water, thewarm sun, the wilderness were allgreat, but it was the amazing hospital-

ity of theChandler sand ranchstaff thatmade thewhole trip so

remarkable.I woke up just before the sun rose

and saw Joe and Richard up and at it.They were warming up by the fire. Iscurried over there like a fox chasing amouse. Joe pointed to IndependenceCreek, where dozens of deer could beseen standing in its flow. “I told youdeer drink out of there.” Richard wasbrewing a pot of coffee at sunrise, as heusually does for guests who spend thenight. Mornings on the ranch are freshand peaceful.

After breakfast, I had the great priv-ilege of meeting Joe and Anne’s sweetmother, Charlena Chandler, who gaveme an autographed copy of her bookOn Independence Creek: The Story of a TexasRanch. A stay at Chandler Ranch is anauthentic Texan experience with plen-

ty of room for adventure. It is withoutquestion the hidden treasure of allWest Texas destinations. The ranch ishard to capture on camera. It is simplysomething that you must experiencehands-on.

We said our goodbyes and Annesent us off with a jug to fill with springwater. It was sad to pack up all mylegal pads and coonskin hat and headfor home. Whoops, I left behind mybinoculars. I guess we have to go backand pick them up.

Chandler Ranch cabins and info atchandlerranch.com. Updates and pic-tures of its construction can be seen atfacebook.com/ChandlerRanchFans.Their contact email is [email protected].

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continued from page 13

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G ood salsa is about more than mixingtogether a few chiles and tomatoesbecause there’s a secret ingredient that

can’t be measured - the story. Every incrediblesalsa has a story behind it. Ask anyone in WestTexas about what constitutes the best salsa andyou’ll discover deep-seated passions aboutintense chiles, beautiful stories of family andculture, or salsa philosophies that vary as wide-ly as the salsa recipes. Crafting a delicious salsais an art form that requires precise tuning anda well-developed process that is sometimes car-ried on for generations.

Salsa Stories is a project that seeks to cele-brate and explore the craft of making salsa infar West Texas and the wonderful storiesbehind it.

When I was growing up, my parentshad this thing that when they wereinvited to people’s homes and the salsawas too hot, it was like disrespect tothem, and they thought it was almostoffensive. So, that idea has stuck withme throughout my life and when I’mmaking salsa, I’m always very con-scious of the heat level; I never want tomake it too hot. For a basic table salsa,I prefer a traditional style and strive fora medium heat level. It’s a lot easier toadd to it if you decide you want it to behotter. Or, you can always just makeone that’s hot to have on the tablealong with the milder version, too.

I still use my Mom’s original salsarecipe from roasted Serrano chiles. Mysalsa making process is pretty simple.I’ll roast around four chiles while I’mboiling the tomatoes. Once the chilesare blackened and soft, I put them in aplastic bag for a couple of minutes,which is a trick of the trade that makesit easier to peel off the skin. Some peo-ple like to have black char in their salsa,but I don’t care for it. I use a concasseprocess with the tomatoes and let themboil just until their skins begin to peel.Then, I put the peeled chiles and theboiled tomatoes in a blender.

Next, I’ll add a small, fresh onion to

the mix. I’m not looking for a sweettaste when I make salsa, so that’s why Idon’t cook the onion; the longer youcook onion, the sweeter it gets. Then, Iadd a few cloves of raw garlic, salt andpepper, cumin and cilantro. Peopletend to misuse cumin a lot because ittakes a while for its flavor to release and

develop unless you heat it up. It cantaste very different the next day, sothat’s why you have to know whatyou’re doing when you use it. It’s alsoimportant to pay attention to the con-sistency. I like my salsa to be chunky,but not too thick. While you’re blend-ing, you can always add a little of thewater that the tomatoes were boiled into help get it right.

If I go to a house or to cookouts,especially when I was involved with thechurch more, people usually ask me tomake the salsa. Most people willalways remember a good salsa or askfor the recipe. I think the secret is keep-ing it simple. When people get compet-itive, they try to outdo themselves, butwith salsa, I think the key is sticking tothe basics. I’ve carried my mom’s salsarecipe with me my whole life; I’m gladI can use it to create something thatpeople like and brings them together.Now she’s 67, she might have lost a lit-tle of her step with age, but I’m positivethat she still makes the best salsa.

Our family has been in the sameneighborhood in East El Paso for 36years. Growing up with my brothersand sisters, there were a lot of bad influ-

ences around us. I ended up beinginvolved with gangs and drugs at ayoung age, but getting into food helpedme to turn my life around. I have beenin the food industry for about 19 yearsand currently I’m working on finishingup my Culinary Arts degree from ElPaso Community College. It’s interest-ing for to me to look back on my lifeand reflect on all the pieces that led upto where I am today.

My dad worked at ASARCO, thesmelter refinery here in El Paso, for 40years. I would see my mom wake up at4 a.m. to make his breakfast and lunchevery day. When I was younger, I wokeup early to be able to sit there and talkto my dad before he went to work,especially during the weekends. I likedwatching my mom as she got thingsready and would pay close attention tothe things she put into his lunch box.Sometimes, I would go through it justto be nosy because I was such a curiouskid. After he got home from work, I’dwatch her go through the process ofcleaning it out. Every time, there wasalways a small container of Tang and ajar of salsa. I was fascinated by those lit-tle details and the images have stuckwith me during my life.

I started off in fast food when I wasbasically a kid. That was the periodwhen I was involved in gangs and deal-ing with a lot of anger and issues. Therewas nothing positive around, and I gotin a lot of trouble with the law.Eventually, I had to move to Denver,Colorado, to get away. I started work-ing at an Italian restaurant with KeithBrunell who took me under his wingand taught me a lot. From that point,my love and passion for culinary artsreally began to develop. No one hadever given me an opportunity before; Iwas 19.

I met my wife during that time, andwe started having children. I had tostart working for a temp service, whichsent me out to all types of different

restaurants and food establishments,like universities, hospitals, and hos-pices. As I was working in a children’shospital, my perception of my job shift-ed and I came to realize how importantfood was. I recognized that the meal Iwas making might be the last thatsomeone ever ate. I developed thementality that everything I made hadto be perfect; it became a passion and aforce and I tried to do the best I couldwith every dish.

Eventually I improved and cookingbecame a part of me, and really theonly thing I was good at. Cooking gaveme the opportunity to put my personal-ity and drive into it. It also gave me thechance to honor my family’s heritageby remembering old recipes or how mymom would cook certain foods. It’simportant to me to remember my par-ents’ story, like how my mom was amigrant worker and immigrant and mydad worked hard at ASARCO for allthose years. During all of that, mymom has always made the same salsaand used the same recipe. And now, Iam continuing it on.

Salsa is a wonderful thing to createstrong memories. It gives me an over-whelming joy that people like my salsa.The fact that I’m able to share some-thing that has such an important back-ground and tradition for my family issomething good that I can offer.

Salsa Stories: Documenting the stories behind salsa on the borderas told to Johanna NelsonPABLO GARCIA • EL PASO, TEXAS


The most colorful character towalk the streets of Sanderson,Texas, was Charlie Wilson.

Civil War veteran, frontiersman, gam-bler and wheeler-dealer, he foundedthe community to make his fortune.Stories of his exploits and antics rivaledeven those of the legendary Judge RoyBean.

Cyrus M. “Charlie” Wilson wasborn in Fleming County, Kentucky, inJune of 1847, but spent his childhood inParis, Edgar County, Illinois. AndrewWilson, his father and a blacksmith,was born in Fleming County, KY andhis mother, May, in Fauquier County,Virginia. He had a brother and threesisters, and a half-sister from his moth-er’s first marriage. Paris was and is asleepy farming community on theIllinois-Indiana border, and his fatherwas a very busy man. Charlie learnedskills in the blacksmith shop that stoodhim well in later life.

At the start of the Civil War Charliewas far too young to enlist. As soon ashe looked old enough, he enlisted as aPrivate in Company H of the 64thIllinois Volunteer Infantry, 1stBattalion, Yates’ Sharp Shooters, onFebruary 3, 1864. He was just 16.

He fought in Alabama andTennessee, and then joined withSherman’s army in its siege of Atlanta.In Sherman’s drive to the sea, his com-pany destroyed railroads and engagedthe Confederacy at every opportunity,participating in many famous battles.During the conflict he was woundedtwice, once in the left hand and once inthe throat, but the wounds were notserious. His regiment marched acrossthe south, finishing the fighting atBentonville, NC.

The distinguished 64th suffered acasualty count of 242 men, over half ofwhom died of illness. At war’s end hisregiment participated in the GrandReview of the Armies in Washington,D.C., and then returned to Illinois. Hemustered out on July 11, 1865. He hadattained the rank of Corporal. Here hismilitary record ends.

After the war Charlie immigrated toWest Texas to begin the life of a fron-tiersman. It was a wild and forbiddingplace. The Comanches and Apacheswere attacking the sparse settlements,stealing livestock and taking captives.Outlaws and criminals used the BigBend and West Texas as a place toescape the long arm of the law. It wasinto this dangerous environment thatCharlie wholeheartedly cast his lot.

The 1880 Census for PresidioCounty, Texas, shows that he was abartender in Fort Davis. This was dur-ing the Buffalo Soldier years at theFort, so it is unlikely that he was soldierat that time, and he does not show upon the rosters of officers of the period.

He was a well-known character in WestTexas from the earliest post-war days.

In the early 1880s, the SouthernPacific Railroad in the west and theGalveston, Harrisburg and SanAntonio Railroad in the east werebuilding a new all-weather southerntranscontinental rail route, which wasscheduled to meet at some location insouthern Pecos County. In that periodPecos County was huge, encompassingpresent-day Reeves, Terrell, Val Verdeand Pecos Counties. Through somemeans Charlie saw the surveyors’ plansand was shrewd enough to figure outthat a division point would be locatedroughly half-way between San Antonioand El Paso. Studying the land along

the proposed route, he decided that thenatural bowl in the topography wherepresent-day Sanderson, Texas, sits wasa natural spot for a town. He filedclaim on all the available land in thearea. Had he hesitated, the railroadwould have gotten that land for free asan inducement by the state for buildingin the area.

The first thing Charlie built was atent saloon to serve the thirsty 3,000-man rail crews when they got to town.This won him the enmity of theSouthern Pacific Railroad. For thenext 30 years they waged an ongoingfeud in which he usually gained theupper hand. Much to the chagrin ofthe railroad hierarchy, he delighted infinding ways to outsmart the corpora-tion.

Tales of his exploits with the railroadwere legendary in the small, growingcommunity. When the railroad arrivedthey found that they had to purchaseproperty from him on which to buildthe depot, crew bunkhouse and othercompany buildings. On top of that, he(and the whole town) often swipedwood, coal and water from the rail-road’s huge stockpile. To control theft,the railroad banned building on thesouth side of the tracks and forced thepeople to relocate to the north.

And then there were the propertyline disputes. The railroad surveyedtheir property by the depot and foundthat Charlie’s Cottage Bar Saloon wassitting partially on railroad property.Charlie didn’t dispute the fact, butwhen they demanded he close hissaloon, he got his own surveyors andfound that the last two stalls of theroundhouse sat on his property. Heproceeded to close the Cottage Bar andmove his operations to the roundhouse.He stood his ground until top officialswith the railroad came to make a deal,allowing him to retain his Cottage BarSaloon in exchange for their round-house stalls.

Then there was the time that RoyBean moved to town to open a compet-ing saloon. In the night Charlie sent

Charlie Wilson and his pugs

CYRUS M. “CHARLIE” WILSONFather of Sanderson and Terrell Countyby Bill Smith


someone to spike Bean’s whiskey barrelwith kerosene. The next day, one tastesent Bean’s customers away, and herelocated to Langtry. He and Charlieremained friends, but always at arm’slength. They continually bested eachother in a series of pranks and deals. Italso earned Sanderson the name, “Thetown too mean for Bean.”

In an early article entitled “A VeryDeer Experience” from the San AntonioDaily Light, February 6, 1886, the writerreports on a visit Charlie made to thecity. He is characterized as “havinglived on the edge, and sometimes a bitover the edge of civilization for years,”and that he had “met and vanquishedthe wild and wooly bear, the fiercecatamount, voracious wolf, and timeswithout end had settled scores with thetreacherous and murderous Comancheand Apache Indians.” He had come totown to “see the sights and get polishedup a little so as to cut out hated rivals inaffairs of the heart.” He and a friendwent to see the newly improved SanPedro Park and chanced upon the deerpen with the gate open. He went insideto “while away a few moments fondlingwith those meek and timid creatures.”Suddenly, a young buck took offenseand jumped him, knocking him to theground and severely pummeling himwith his sharp hooves. Poor Charlie’sbrand new suit was reduced to rags andthe buck “began operations as asausage factory.” Charlie’s friend man-aged to pull him to safety and they beata hasty retreat. The paper reported,“This morning he is about, smiling, butlimping, and said that it was the ‘deer-est’ experience he had ever had andthat the San-tone ‘deers’ are altogethertoo belligerent for him, and that he willreturn to Sanderson, where there is nota woman within a hundred miles. Hehas had enough coming to San-tone to

mash the girls.” Obviously Charlie hada great sense of humor.

About 1902, Charlie built the woodand adobe Terrell Hotel just north ofthe depot. Another long adobe build-ing just north of that served as a hotelpreviously, but he tied the two together

into one big operation. For yearsChinese gentlemen ran the hotel, andthe building behind was used as theirrestaurant. Humorous stories fromthat period recount the Chinese andtheir cooking and management abili-ties. The Chinese kept chickens for the

eggs and meat at the restaurant, andone day, Charlie acquired a pet coyotefor his saloon, just across the street. Heset a trail of corn kernels from the free-range chickens to his bar, and when thechickens followed the trail, it led to hischained coyote, which promptly

snatched them up and had a feast.Charlie bragged about not having tobuy feed for his pet, but one day theChinese restaurant manager broughtover a bill for the missing chickens.Charlie paid up, and the bar patronshooted that he had gotten caught.

Uncle Charlie, as the locals loved tocall him, was a shrewd businessmanand an inveterate gambler. But the bigIrishman, a confirmed lifelong bache-lor, had a heart of gold and a soft spotin his heart for children. As his towngrew he built public buildings anddonated property for the new countycourthouse and several churches. Hewas also a breeder of pug dogs. When achild was born he sometimes gave thenewborn a town lot and a puppy for abirth gift. Generous and outgoing, nev-ertheless he always had a deal going,and not always scrupulously legal.

In 1906 Charlie sold 90 percent ofhis holdings in Sanderson and the area,and he moved to El Paso. He wantedto move on to Cuba, but old age caughtup with him. While in El Paso in 1908,he became ill and was sent to the Homefor Disabled Volunteer Soldiers inSanta Monica, California. As hishealth problems grew worse, he lost afoot to gangrene. Three weeks later hedied, on August 25, 1912. Charlie waslaid to rest with honor at what becamethe Los Angeles National Cemetery.And, for all the wheeling and dealingand profit-taking he had done in hislife, his final estate was valued at $2.30,little more than the change in his pock-et or perhaps the liquidation of his per-sonal items at the Home.

Charlie Wilson was a man whoexemplified the entrepreneurial spiritof West Texas. Coming to the areaduring an extremely dangerous period,he carved out a niche for himself and awhole community. Considering thelove and admiration which was univer-sally bestowed upon him, it is no exag-geration to characterize him as the“Father of Sanderson and TerrellCounty, Texas.” And, here it is, a hun-dred years later, and he is still the topicof conversation.

Cyrus “Charlie” M. Wilson, Alexander Watkins Terrell, Texas Legislator for whom the county wasnamed, Joe Kerr, Sr., and W.P. Watkins. 1905

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Photo EssayAnimalitos by Carol Townsend

Iconcentrate my photographic workin and around my hometown ofMarathon, Texas. Often at sunrise

and sunset I only have to step out myback door to find nature’s creatureswaiting for me. Please enjoy this sam-ple from my backyard or from justdown the road. My neighborhood isfilled with wildlife already posing.

Pronghorns Post Road

Black Tailed Jack Rabbit

Great Horned Owl

CenizoThird Quarter 2016 19

Above: White tailed deer. Below left: Elk. Below right: Javalina


Voices of the BIG BENDJim Glendinning: The Galloping Scot, Author, World Traveler and tour operator to Copper Canyon, Mexico.

Story and photographs by Jim Glendinning

MIKE PALLANEZMiguel Pallanez (Mike) was born in

Alpine in 1943, the youngest of fivechildren, to Antonio and VirginiaGallego Pallanez. He was preceded bythree sisters and a brother, who died atage 18 from pneumonia.

His father was a World War I veter-an who worked in a variety of jobslocally. He successfully raised goats fortheir angora wool and was a stockhauler. He opened a café, El CharoCafé, on Harrison Street in Alpine, andalso had a hog farm.

Antonio Pallanez died in 1974 atage 80. He and Virginia were sticklersfor education and would have beenimmensely proud of their son’s careerin coaching as well as of their daugh-ters, who were all involved in educa-tion. Pallanez started at CentennialSchool, attending through eighthgrade. He didn’t excel in any one sub-ject but recalls “very good, dedicatedteachers.”

In 1957 he started at Alpine HighSchool. “Everyone got along well,” herecalls, “especially the athletes.” Heplayed baseball for four years and foot-ball for three years. He loved competi-tion and learned that you win as a teamand lose as a team.

In fall 1961, Pallanez enrolled at SulRoss, but suffered a car accident. Here-enrolled in 1963, studying PhysicalEducation with a Minor in Biology,and graduated in 1967. His first jobwas teaching Physical Education andScience at Centennial School.

Pallanez married Rosie Valenzuelain 1970, whom he met at CentennialSchool where she worked as a teacher’saide. They married at Our Lady ofPeace Catholic Church in Alpine andsubsequently had five children: Mary,Julie, Michelle, Tony and Linda. Tonybecame head baseball coach atRiverside High School in El Paso.Three of his daughters became schoolteachers like their mother, who was anexceptional elementary school teacher.Linda works in the DA’s office.

Pallanez’s first year at CentennialSchool was a great success, going unde-feated in football, basketball and trackin 1967/1968. In 1974 he moved toAlpine High School and restarted base-ball, followed by a brief stint coachingat Fabens High School.

Here he enjoyed remarkable successduring the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s.Alpine were District Champions in 17out of 18 years in baseball and in 1994qualified for the State final four.

Asked to explain the importance ofsports competition at the high schoollevel, he replies that putting on a uni-form gives you the ability to reach fur-ther. In a team, you learn to cope withadversity and how to come back.Competition is the key to improvingthe man. Coaching is teaching in a dif-ferent context.

Pallanez’s awards include WestTexas Coach of the Year (1994) andthe Odessa American baseball Coachof the Year (1998). In 2015 he wasinducted into the Texas High SchoolBaseball Coach Association Hall ofFame. Pallanez retired in 2008 after

coaching from 2001-2008 at Sul Ross.Today he is a County Commissioner.As a man who loved teaching andcoaching, Pallanez’s message is: “If youlove what you do, keep doing it.”

BETH GARCIA The main characters in Beth

Garcia’s popular crime novels aretough people living in a rugged terrain.Residents of Big Bend can easily recog-nize this landscape since they live there.They can empathize with the charac-ters due to Garcia’s skill at drawing thereader into the story. How Garciaachieves this is bound up with her ownlife’s journey.

Elizabeth Anne Egger (Beth) wasborn in Rochester, NY in 1949, theeldest of three daughters of the Rev.Henry T. and Anne Eggers, a teacher.Her father’s calling as an Episcopalpriest meant the family moved fre-quently. Her childhood years werespent in Charleston, NC and later inGainesville, FL, where Garcia attendedPK Younge High School.

After graduating from high school in

1967, Garcia attended community col-lege in Marianna, FL. She didn’t com-plete the course; instead, she marriedErnest Frey, who worked nearby in theUS Air Force. The couple eloped toAlabama to marry since she was tooyoung to marry in Florida.

Ernie quit the Air Force and took ajob. Garcia gained experience in theinsurance business, got a license, andshowed an entrepreneurial ability insales that would help her later.However, their lives were movingapart, and they divorced in 1979. In1980, Garcia took off for the west andnever returned.

In 1984 she fetched up at LajitasResort, tending bar. She was hired byBig Bend River Tours at a period whenthe river ran high and the rafting busi-ness boomed. She bought the companyin 1988. The business grew, and at onestage she had 43 employees.

In 1983, she married Efrain Garcia,by whom she had a daughter,Margarita. Margarita would later playa role in Garcia’s book-writing career,as a part role model for Deputy Ricos,

MIKE PALLANEZAlpine

BETH GARCIAAlpine

CHARLIE ANGELLPresidio

Photo by Tim McKenna


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the tough female protagonist. The prof-its from the rafting company paid fortreatment for a lung disease which shewas told, when it was diagnosed in1985, would end her life in 6 months.

Garcia sold Big Bend River Tours in2000, and started the Terlingua YouthClub dealing with the after-schoolneeds of local youngsters. This devel-oped in the Boys & Girls Club ofTerlingua. The project, which she calls“the most meaningful thing I ever did,”was sabotaged by local interests and lefther with a huge anger.

She turned to writing professionally.In 2013 she finally completed her firstDeputy Ricos book (One Bloody Shirt at aTime), and exorcised the anger. FrontStreet Books placed a big order. Thebook went on to win “Best CrimeNovel of the Year” by the TexasAssociation of Authors for 2013.

Her seven books all have catchytitles (eg Darker than Black, Beautiful Bones)and strong covers. She has a dedicatedlocal fan club as well as faithful readersfurther afield. Carol Wallace of Alpine,one of these fans, says, “She takes us ona ride. I eat up her books.” Beth Garciais brimming with story plots for the

future. I ask if there will be more books.“Oh Yes. Yes Sir!” she replies.

CHARLIE ANGELLFrom a thriving roofing business in

Miami to an expanding tourism enter-prise in the quiet desert near Presidio,Charlie Angell gets things done. Hewas born in Hawaii in 1961. Family lifewas unsettled since his father was anabusive man. However, after a divorceand a move to Fort Worth in 1964,matters improved for Angell, his sisterRuth and his mother Judy.

Angell’s schooling was in Dallas,where the family moved when he wasin fourth grade. At Seagoville HighSchool he became captain of the swimteam and showed promise in writing.He enjoyed the outdoors and left thecity whenever he could for campingand hiking.

Graduating from high school in1984, he spent a few semesters in com-munity college. Hearing of construc-tion opportunities in Miami followingHurricane Andrew, he headed there in1992 and found work suited to hishigh-charged energy. Later he formeda company that came to employ 60

workers. Around 2001, he was contacted by a

lawyer in West Texas regarding ahouse near Ruidosa, that had belongedto his father, now deceased. He inherit-ed the house, and started to make peri-odic visits to fix up the house in the bor-derland of desert and mountains, andfew people. He felt super-connected tothe area. Running half-clothed throughthe desert as recreation was much moresatisfying than coping with the crime,noise and crowds of Miami.

In 2008 he moved permanently tohis Ruidosa property. He threw himselfinto developing a guiding and raftingcompany. A timely recommendationfrom a happy client got his company,Angell Expeditions, a top listing onTrip Advisor. Passionate about wildlife,he worked on learning about the natu-ral life of the area as well as the history.Angell Expeditions offers hiking trips,jeep tours, rafting trips, and Angell latergot into the camp cooking business.Pilar Pedersen of Alpine, who ranchesnear Ruidosa, calls him “a world classguide.” Meanwhile, he is always on thelookout for properties to turn intorental houses.

Angell thrives on the solitude andbeauty of the desert. His nearest neigh-bor is one-and-a-half miles distant. Hevigorously promotes and tends AngellExpeditions, where he now has 40boats.

Building a good relationship withBig Bend Ranch State Park, where hecaters for events, he also looks to bene-fit when the Chinati Mountains StateNatural Area opens, since this yet-undeveloped area is on his door step.He deals increasingly with schoolgroups and Boy Scouts troops.

Angell Expeditions’ headquarters inRedford sits on a site of TapacolmeIndians. Angell hopes to get involvedwith an archeological dig, leading to abook about the area. Already qualifiedto operate in Big Bend National Parkand Big Bend Ranch State Park, Angellrecently got qualified as a guide in theDevil’s River State Park. Meanwhile,on any day, Angell is somewhere on themove, promoting his AngellExpeditions or looking for a new inter-est in the region to satisfy his curiosityand drive.

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22 CenizoThird Quarter 2016

Little Explorers

in theby Danielle Gallo. Illustration by Gary Oliver.

BIG BENDBIG BEND


The world is made of nooks andcrannies. Traveling the broadrivers of concrete, to and fro,

day to day, it’s easy to forget that themajority of real estate is still devoid ofhomes, offices, identical stores andmanmade objects. We wear channelsthrough the world with our feet andwheels, but outside the familiar pathsthere are different patterns worn bywind and water; there are living histo-ries and vibrant traditions still beingwritten. When your family is young,it’s all the more important to showyour children that the world is morethan an endless repetition of macadamand manicured parks.

When I was young in New England,we used to explore the NewHampshire woods and streams. I lovedthe old stone walls that crisscrossed theforests—reminders of the old farmsnow covered by young growth. Itmade me think of the settlers who builtthem two and three centuries before,clearing the old-growth trees by hand,ploughing rocky soil, piling the stonesto mark their fields. I still love to findtraces of long-vanished footprints, andthe Trans-Pecos is full of them, human

and geologic. Now that I have my ownchildren, I think a lot about the placesI want to show them, the landscapesthat will shape and inform their con-cepts of history and the earth.

I often tell visitors to go see ErnstTinaja. It’s a familiar conversation: Isay the name, and they struggle towrap the unfamiliar words into a pack-age that will mean something to them.I write it down, then explain that atinaja is a naturally-occurring holeeroded into rock by the swirling eddiesof passing water. Ernst Tinaja is anarroyo, a watercourse that remains dryin the absence of rain. When it rains,the local topography funnels the waterto create a temporary river (or, forthose from less arid climates, a creek).Sometimes the water hits a bump. Thebump makes the water swirl. Theswirl, over time, erodes the limestone,creating a bigger bump. Eventually, ahollow place is carved out of the bed ofthe arroyo, which holds water when itrains, a precious rarity in theChihuahuan desert, and an importantecological boon for plants, animals andhumans.

Ernst Tinaja is not so much a trail in

Big Bend National Park as it is a pleas-ant scramble up the arroyo (check theweather forecast first, lest a distantstorm place you in danger of a flashflood). The walls of the wide, shallowcanyon are strongly layered bands ofcherty limestone and sandstone, mark-ing the ebb and flow of ancient oceans.The crazed hump and tilt of thesebands are a remembrance of tectonicplates beneath our feet, slow behe-moths floating like bumper boats on asea of magma. The power of the quietearth is such that massive sheets ofstone buck and ripple. Purple and redsandstone swirls reveal fossils every-where, to the most casual observer.Whole cliffs of swallows’ nests are rem-iniscent of stone-age cities. It is surreal.Timeless. Forty minutes or so fromPanther Junction.

For me it’s a perfect place to bringchildren, because there are few placesI’ve been where geologic time and theawesome forces of earth movement arelaid so plainly bare to the naked eye.It’s one thing to explain to a little oneabout eons and extinctions and thepowers that make and destroy moun-tains; it’s quite another to be able to

point to a stripe of rock, wiggling crazi-ly, and explain that the space betweenit and the one below it is a millionyears or an ice age or the receding of agreat inland sea.

Not very far to the west of ErnstTinaja lies the Chisos Basin, and therenear the lodge is the Lost Mine Trail.For older children, capable of a some-times-challenging day hike, the LostMine offers mystery, education andsweeping vistas of the desert. The hiketakes its name from Lost Mine Peak,which in turn is so called because of thelegend of a secret mine whose locationwas lost when the workers were allkilled by Comanche. Many havesought the treasure, but it has yet to befound. The hike is about five mileslong, and the way up to the top can bea challenge; but the walk back to thecar is delightfully downhill, and theviews of Juniper Canyon and the sur-rounding peaks and forests of theChisos are well worth the effort.

There is a trail guide available at the


THE BEER FROM OUT HERE


trailhead or the visitor’s center whichcorresponds to numbered posts alongthe way, offering snippets of informa-tion about the ecosystems, wildlife andgeology visible from the trail. Thereare also a number of comfortable way-points, designed to allow the casualhiker to stop and rest, drink water,grab a snack, and regale the childrenwith off-the-cuff ghost stories about thelost mine and its unfortunate crew,whom legend says were blindfolded ontheir way to work each day, so theycould never reveal the location.Though children (and less athleticadults) will want to take their timemeeting the challenges of the trail, thesense of accomplishment and the stun-ning views they’ll earn upon complet-ing it will make for lasting memories.This is a perfect “first real hike” foryoung people, and if time at the park islimited, the Lost Mine Trail shouldmake the cut.

Moving north, the San Solomonsprings gush into the arid desert atBalmorhea near Fort Davis, spilling 15million gallons of crystal clear, ancientwater into the historic pool every day.Built in the 1930s by the CivilianConservation Corps, Balmorhea is thelargest spring-fed swimming pool inthe world. The CCC hewed local lime-stone and sun-baked adobe bricks, cre-ating a park and a pool nearly twoacres in size and 25 feet deep in places.Scuba and skin diving are popularactivities for visitors. The seven dollarpark entrance fee covers the cost ofswimming there for adults (children

under twelve enter for free), and camp-ing is also available. The water staysaround 70 degrees Fahrenheit year

round. First-time visitors are often a little

startled to feel local fishes nibbling gen-

tly at their toes as they lounge in thepristine waters. The park is home tomany species of birds, fish and otherwildlife, which find sanctuary in therestored wetlands. The ComancheSprings Pupfish is only found in thewetlands around the artesian springs ofBalmorhea. Young visitors can borrowa Junior Ranger Explorer Pack fromthe visitor’s center, which includes apair of binoculars and a magnifyingglass, an animal tracking key, guides toplants, animals and insects, and pencil,crayons and watercolors to use with ajournal and sketchbook. A hikethrough the restored cienegas, or wet-lands, exploring and documenting thisrare desert oasis, makes a long dip inthe springs even more rewarding forthe whole family.

Whether the Big Bend is your back-yard (and I like to think of it as beingthe backyard for all of Texas) or alonger trek from home finding a fewactivities to explore in depth with thelittle ones will do more than make for anice vacation. The wheels of youngminds turn swiftly with a little grease,and the Big Bend offers history, biolo-gy, geology, archaeology (all the Ohgee! stuff, actually), astronomy, peaceand quiet, hard work and good exer-cise as mental lubrication. It’s the bestkind of playground in the world, thekind that teaches a lot of everything allat once, and some good old-fashionedcommon sense thrown in with a strongmeasure of fun. The backyards of theworld have grown smaller through theyears, but the Big Bend is still here toaccommodate all the endless wondercontained in the minds of children.


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tens of thousands of years. ‘Primitive’people used to record snippets of theirlives on walls in caves using techniquesthat experts think may have originatedin Africa before waves of migrations offthe continent began.

Figurative art is generally believed tohave started around 35,000 to 40,000years ago. Some say this marked a cog-nitive turn for humankind: The abilityto think symbolically allowed humansto let one thing stand for another, i.e.visual representations in drawing andsculpture. This connects the modern-day human – in the loosest of ways – toour ancestors in that we still use sym-bolism to similarly interpret life today.The most famous ones are overseas inplaces like Indonesia and France, buteven West Texas has some primitiveart in the Lower Pecos Canyonlands, aswell as other places.

No matter the moniker, if they with-stand the climate and the onslaught oftime, these paintings give us insight intothe psyche of the times in which theywere done. We ponder the mysteries ofhandprints and especially animals – didthey eat them, friend them, use them asa connection to the spirit world? Havewe come such a small way in the evolu-tionary process that we still want topaint on walls?

I met Read to talk about his paintinghistory on a smoky morning in May ashe worked on the Rangra Theatremural in Alpine. As mammatus cloudspoured in, Read took his phone out to

snap a picture of the firmament –Mother Nature using hues of gray tocreate rolling textures on her sky can-vas – captured on a modern day tool ofthe contemporary artist.

Read grew up around art. Hisfather, Sleepy Read, worked in a sheetmetal shop full-time and a movie housepart-time, but in his free time paintedabstracts and modern art as well asrural Texas landscapes. Read taggedalong with his father when Sleepy ranthe projector at the Pines Theater inLufkin, Texas. While Papa Read paint-ed between reel changes and projectorcock-ups, young Read sat outside thedoor – “It was too hot to sit in the roomwith dad” – and reveled in watchingcartoons and movies. This instilled alove of picture and color early on.

As Read matured, he did a stint as adrawing and painting major at theUniversity of North Texas in Denton,just north of the Dallas/Fort Worthmetroplex. Although he didn’t pursuehis degree to the finish, this introducedhim to his lifetime love of the mural artform and his dislike of being too repeti-tious. “I get bored to death, just paint-ing the same thing over and over,”Read said. Even then, he wanted tokeep things from getting stale. Duringhis time at UNT, the class had livemodels come and sit for the students.“It was the same old hippie ballerinafor about two years, occasionally inter-spersed with a couple other girls,”Read said. The budding artists, wearyof the recurring model, one day ven-tured outside the schoolbox andbrought in someone off the street. The

students chipped in for a bottle of wineto pay the model, and that day paintedsomething fresh – a live, nude wino.

In the 70s Read was hired to paintcustom vans, training for three weekson the system and paint style. Readsaid the vans were mostly generic, noneof the doobie-smoking dragons or grimreapers riding unicorns and sportingmachine guns that we fondly remem-ber of 70s Shaggin’ Wagons. He did,however, paint a plaza scene of theAlamo as it looked in the 1880s on acouple of vans. Read said the impor-tant stuff (like the Alamo) was usuallyon the driver’s side, so he probably dida mission scene on the passenger side.He may call his van-painting daysgeneric, but they were unique enoughto recognize as his own: seven or eightyears later, Read said he saw one of hispainted vans over in Juarez.

Read moved up the paint ladder tobuses, namely Nashville tour buses,eventually adding Hank Williams, Jr.’sbus to his portfolio.

As Read grew tired of canvases withwheels, he also started becoming aller-gic to the clear coat used for the finish.He started coming out to Alpine in1981 and liked it so much he keptreturning, eventually living inTerlingua and Fort Davis for a while.While in Terlingua, he worked at astore for Bill Ivey and painted mapsand signs and pictures on the side, mostnotably a sign for the Gage Hotel inMarathon.

Read scored his first commercialwall gig in the stockyards of Fort Worthin the early 90s, and his mural career

blossomed from there. He moved toCleburne, on the outskirts of FortWorth, and the rest, as they say, is his-tory. History done in acrylics on a largescale for whomever is willing to pay hisprice.

Murals depicting the history of aplace or time period are Read’s thingnow, he said. “I’m a history buff and Ilike to spark the interest in others.”This makes it fun for him to do theresearch for the rendering of a mural.“I study up on the history to representwhat needs to be done without gettingtoo technical,” he said.

Luckily for us masses, who dependupon others to document our place inthe annals of the late modern period,Read is versatile enough to do morethan just longhorns and western scenes.He did a circa 1930s art deco moviehouse theme at the Rangra Theatre inAlpine. He’s gone blind doing hillcountry bluebonnet scenes. In SanAngelo, Read documented a song – aone-hit wonder – in paint. TheCavaliers were an Air Force “boygroup” out of San Angelo, and theirteen-tragedy song “Last Kiss” spent sixmonths at number one on the HitParade List in 1964. Read painted theband as they were at the height of theirfame on the building the song wasrecorded in.

Five or six years ago, anotherpainter referred Read to a “contest” incentral Texas at an African trophyroom. The expansive room contained



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upwards of 100 animals, fullmounts (which means thewhole animal is stuffed and ondisplay, including an elephantand a giraffe), and the ownerwanted murals paintedaround the collection. A hand-ful of artists each painted a tenfoot section of wall. They gotpaid for a day’s work, and the“winner” finished out the restof the room. A woman fromZimbabwe was chosen for thetask. Later, however, the taxi-dermist called and asked Readto come and add theCameroon Rainforest to theroom as well as touch up whatthe woman had done. Now,years later, as the ownerschange up the room again,Read has been asked to comeand add more animals and ascene of a village with a planelanding, preparing for thehunt. “I’m just a hiredmechanic on that one,” Readsaid. “Someone else is callingthe shots, which is nice once ina while.”

Read said he’s paintedeight murals in Alpine, nine ifyou include the Milton Favermural that eventually becamethe Big Brewster when it hadto be redone. The Favermural was done in dark colorsover a lime plaster. After anatypical desert day, when fiveinches of rain fell in two hoursfollowed by a drastic warm-upby the western sun, the muralbegan peeling and cracking,degrading before its time.Read touched it up, but it was

never the same. In 2005, thescene was changed to the BigBrewster that stands today.

Last year, Read was induct-ed in to the Texas Trail ofFame for his part in preservingwestern heritage through hispaintings. Getting a plaque inthe sidewalk at the Fort WorthStockyards National Historicsite was quite an honor, Readsaid.

“The years have paid off,sticking with it, doing jobs youdon’t want to do,” Read said.“I feel blessed. The fun part iswhen you finish and sign yourname.”

Just like the cave dwellers oflong ago, we’re still paintinganimals – or paying people to

do it – albeit with more techni-cal accuracy. Now we alsoinclude music and film andother staples of pop culture inour visual history. The materi-als Read uses today, a mixtureof acrylic house paint overlaidwith a UV protective coat thatNASA developed, will lastdecades, maybe longer. Willfuture inhabitants of the Earthgaze at street art and ponderthe lives of 21st centurians?

Stylle Read’s murals onwest Texas buildings maysomeday speak to our ances-tors just as the Pecos Rock Artwhispers to us today.


St. James’ Episcopal Church, Ave. A and N. 6th St., AlpineHoly Eucharist 1st, 2nd, 3rd Sundays 11 a.m.Morning Prayer 4th and 5th Sundays 11 a.m.Godly Play for ages 3-9, every Sunday, Sept thru May, 11:00 am

The Big Bend Episcopal Mission Welcomes YouSanta Inez Church, Terlingua Ghostown

Holy Eucharist first Saturday 5 p.m. Sept.~ MayThe Chapel of St. Mary & St. Joseph, Lajitas

Holy Eucharist on 3rd Sunday, 4 pm

The Rev. Kay Jennings432.386.7464

[email protected]


When I was a child, we atePersian melons that came upto Minnesota all the way

from some exotic location West of thePecos River. They were so delicious,especially when filled with a scoop oflime sherbet. A colleague of myfather’s was from West Texas, andwhen his parents drove up to visit himthey would fill their station wagon withcrates of melons raised by his uncle.They came much earlier in the sum-mer than the locally-grown melons,but more than that, they were so muchmore luscious and sweeter than theMinnesota melons we had in late sum-mer. There was no doubt that the mel-ons raised in West Texas were the verybest Persian Melons in the world, barnone!

That was in the 1950s. NowadaysPersian melons are called cantaloupe,but the ones grown in West Texas arestill the best. Cantaloupe or Persianmelons originated in Persia – presentday Iraq and Iran – and spreadthroughout the Mediterranean. WhenColumbus arrived he passed outmelon seeds to the native people.Growing them fit right into the gar-dening practices of the time.

This time of year Persian melonsare on every fruit counter, andalthough they are delicious just as theycome from Mother Nature, here are afew recipes to gussy them up. All theseare quick and easy, and only onerequires you to turn on the stove. Allare so good for enjoying on hot sum-mer days.

Persian Rose Cream1 small Persian melon (cantaloupe)1 cup coconut cream½ tsp ground cardamom2 tsp rose water2 Tbls agave nectar (or honey)PistachiosFresh mint

Use a melon baller to ball the fleshof the melon or cut it into smallpieces. Divide into 4 dessert dishes.Mix coconut cream, cardamom, rosewater and agave nectar. Pour overmelon balls. Garnish with pistachiosand fresh mint. I imagine this wasserved to Scheherazade. It is so veryexotic and special.

Cantaloupe Salad1 cantaloupe2 cups red grapes2 oz blue cheese¼ cup honey¼ cup chopped pecans

Cut cantaloupe flesh into 1-inchpieces, halve grapes, crumble bluecheese and gently mix together withhoney and pecans. Let sit for ½ anhour so juices gather. Serve over biblettuce, garnish with fresh anise, hys-sop or fresh mint.

Cantaloupe salsa2 large cucumbers, finely diced 3 cups finely diced fresh cantaloupe 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil ½ jalapeno pepper, seeded

and minced1 lime, juice and zest 1 small red onion, finely diced 1 tomato, diced

1 bunch cilantro, coarsely chopped 1 pinch salt 1 pinch ground black pepper

Mix together and serve with chips.It is a most refreshing salsa on a hotafternoon and goes well with a darkbeer or a glass of white wine. Serve itfor brunch over scrambled eggs with amimosa. It is especially good with fishtacos.

Sweet and Sour PickledCantaloupe

½ cup kosher salt1 small cantaloupe2 cups honey 1 ½ cups cider vinegar¼ cup minced fresh ginger1 stick cinnamon

Cut the flesh of the cantaloupe into2” pieces and spread in a non-reactivedish. Cover with ice. Sprinkle the icewith salt. Set aside for an hour whilethe ice melts. Rinse cantaloupe pieces.Using a non-reactive pan, mix thehoney and vinegar until honey dis-solves, add cantaloupe, ginger and cin-namon. Bring to a simmer and simmerfor 45 minutes. Bottle pickles whilehot. This should make about 2 pintsand will store in the refrigerator forseveral months. This is an old-fash-ioned treat. Makes a great treat for thekids.

Pecos Cocktail2 oz tequila or rum½ cup cantaloupe½ oz lime juice1 oz orange juice1 tsp honey

Combine ingredients in blenderwith 1/3 cup crushed ice. Blend untilsmooth. Pour into an old-fashionedglass. Garnish with fresh mint.

Pecos Bobby Jane½ cup cantaloupe1 Tbls lime juice½ cup orange juice1 tsp honey

Combine ingredients in blenderwith 1/3 cup crushed ice. Blend untilsmooth. Pour into an old-fashionedglass. Garnish with fresh mint.

Big Bend Eatsby Carolyn Brown Zniewski

THE PERSIAN MELON AKA MUSKMELON OR CANTALOUPE


Answers:: 1. B, 2. C, 3. B, 4. D, 5. A

SCHOOLS OF THE BIG BEND

1) In 1930 the Chisos Mining Company erected a school to replace theone built in 1907 by Brewster County. It was called the:

a) Quicksilver School c) Mariposa Schoolb) Perry School d) Abajo School

2) The Big Bend is famous for its charmingly small towns. How many children were enrolled in Marathon ISD in the 2015-2016 school year,pre-k through grade 12?

a) 72 c) 58b) 104 d) 37

3) Which local Independent School District will begin teaching CulinaryArts to students in the fall of 2016, in conjunction with Odessa College?

a) Sanderson c) Terlinguab) Marfa d) Marathon

4) The Fightin’ Bucks are Alpine ISD’s intrepid sports teams. How manysports, including football, baseball, basketball and volleyball, are playedunder the Bucks’ purple and gold colors?

a) 7 c) 9b) 19 d) 12

5) Marathon’s first school, taught by Miss Paxton, convened in a one-roomschoolhouse that still stands in the community square, next to thelibrary. What year was it built?

a) 1888 c) 1907 b) 1918 d) 1880

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The Terlingua and Study Butte area is located just outside of the Big Bend National Park boundary.

The area offers lodging, RV parks, restaurants, banks, a post office, auto repair, gift shops, grocery stores, and fueling stations, everything you need for your West Texas adventure!

Home to outfitters who provide exciting and scenic river trips, off-road tours, bike tours and horseback rides. Golf one of the most beautiful golf courses in Texas.

Accessible by private airport, that can accommodate small jets. You can also reserve a tour of the area by plane.

To plan your Big Bend adventure contact:

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BIG BEND COUNTRY

Study Butte/Terlingua is located three miles from the park entrance. We offer five motels, several restaurants, medics, post office, bank, gas station, a great quilt shop, art galleries, assorted gift shops, and wonderful night life.

Big Bend Chamber of Commerce and Visit Big Bend. 432-371-2320

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Largest Produce Selection in the Tri-County Area

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a flicker of the soul - chandler ranch · 2018. 1. 19. · locals of the big bend & davis...

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