Friday, 12 February 2021
After a look at the map, I discovered I'd missed quite a few county seats on my earlier travels through this part of the state. Taking the smaller, less traveled roads to visit some of these would take me a while, but Google told me that even a direct route would take me 3 hours, which meant 4½ to 5 hours for me. I wrote down the directions for the scenic route, figuring I could abandon that plan if I changed my mind.
I was getting the critters and the cabin ready to leave fairly early, when we got a knock on the door. A man said I was the only one with a light on, and his wife had just made some banana bread and wanted to give some of it away and did I want it. A real nice offer, since I rarely turn down banana bread. There were 2 slices, they were still warm, and only the fact that I'd already eaten breakfast kept me from sitting down right then to eat them.
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| today's route |
On the road
About 12 miles down the road from Lumberton is Kountze, pop. 2,123. It's the county seat and there are several points about that fact that are odd.
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| Hardin County Courthouse in Kountze |
The courthouse itself is odd: it was built in 1959 and, when I saw it, I figured it must be attached to the old courthouse because that dome is so clearly out of place with that new building. Wrong. A domed courthouse was built in 1905, but it was demolished in 1960 after the new one was built. That dome you see is a replica of the clock tower dome from the earlier courthouse. I can see why local folks might have missed their clock tower, but this mating sets my teeth on edge it's so inappropriate.
And the location of the Hardin County seat in Kountze is odd too. For starters, it's not in the town of Hardin where, in fact, it originally was. Apparently, after Kountze (which was a town the railroad created) started agitating to have the county seat itself, county residents voted and decided to keep it in Hardin. Then there was a fire in the courthouse in Hardin which, somehow, changed people's opinions, and they agreed to move the county seat to Kountze (named for Mr. and Mrs. Kountze, who donated the land for the new courthouse). I have such a hard time following the logic of that, that I'm sure there's more to the story.
The courthouse sits on a very busy street where I had no chance at all of stopping, so to get this photo I first had to drive another half mile down the street before I found a place to turn right, then I had to drive another couple miles before I found a place where I could (just barely) turn around, then drive back and make a few left turns around a block to come back out on the main street from a side street. On the other hand, all that roundabouting took me past the Oliver Scott Petty Arboretum, which was a donation to the Texas A&M Forestry Service, and the Kirby-Hill House (I'm a sucker for Queen Anne houses), and a Genealogy Library. Quite a bit for a town of a couple thousand people.
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| Kirby-Hill House |
Continuing down the highway, I passed the visitor center for the Big Thicket National Preserve. The preserve was established in 1974 and is now recognized by UNESCO as a biosphere reserve. I was astounded to learn from the Wikipedia entry that there are no precise geographic boundaries for this area. In fact, a map on this page shows 5 different versions of where it lies. You might want to take a look at this entry, even just to skim it, because of the amazing biological diversity here. The history of the area turns my stomach and I have to skim that too. But it's all interesting. https://en.wikipedia.org/Big-Thicket
The road crossed Village Creek, proving that it's a real creek and not just something that's confined to the park boundaries.
I heard on the radio that today is the Lunar New Year, and this is the Year of the Ox. The internet tells me that those born in one of these years (including me) are known to be honest, diligent, dependable, strong and determined. If by that they mean stubborn, they got me.
I was following US 69 here and noticed a highway sign saying "Shoulder for Hurricane Evacuation Use Only." Considering the active hurricane season in 2020, I imagine those shoulders got a workout.
Just inches before crossing from Hardin County into Tyler County, I passed Island Liquor Store (very tiny) with one of those enormous US flags that might have been bigger than the business. I'm guessing Hardin County is more liquor-business friendly than Tyler County.
I saw a highway sign that said, "Watch For Smoke On Road." I have no idea what that's about.
I passed several Tulip Magnolias today in full bloom - so pretty and usually a sign of Spring to me.
I passed through Woodville, pop. 2,586 (home of Childress Monuments ("Memories Carved Into Stone - since 1948")); Doucette, pop. unknown (where I saw a very long border of heavily blooming jonquils); Colmesneil, pop. 596 (named for a railroad conductor) (local church sign: "Do you love carbs? Jesus is the bread of life."); and found myself back in the Angelina National Forest (I was in this neighborhood this past December).
I passed areas of very thick tree growth, but the trees all seemed to be the same age and, in places, I could see they were only growing about 50 yards wide. I'm guessing a tree farm to replace the previous growth. I've never really been clear on timber harvesting management in protected forests.
I got to Zavalla, pop. 713, but the road in this area was so completely under construction it barely existed. What was left was a narrow 2-lane road with not a hint of shoulder space, and most directional signs were missing. Including the sign to tell me where the state road I wanted was. But actually, the signs that were there didn't say what Google said they'd say, so I think my problem was more the fault of Google (yet again) than the highway department.
The construction zone continued for many miles, and I ended up going miles and miles farther from where I should have turned before finally deciding that I must have passed it. Then it took me more miles to find a place where I could get far enough off the road so I wouldn't get sideswiped. Then I had to decide if I should turn around, if turning around was even possible, or if I should ignore my Google directions and figure out a new route with the AAA map. Which is what I did, finding an alternate route by continuing to Huntington, where I thought I could find an internet signal to assess my options. My real concern wasn't in getting lost but in encountering icy roads - especially across Sam Rayburn Reservoir, which covers many miles of land in this area - and that's why I wanted to check drivetexas.org before crossing the lake.
I came to Huntington, pop. 2,118, named for the then-chairman of the board of the Southern Pacific Railroad. (I'm telling you, the railroad's influence on our country's history is staggering and goes very deep.) Signs in town advertise Huntington's weekly Trade Days. It looked like a small, muddy town, but that may have been due to the weather as much as the town. I found a church parking lot to regroup, coming up with Plan B, and a farm-to-market road that would cut over to the road I'd been heading for.
I lost the Beaumont NPR station and, in scanning through the available stations, I came across a discussion where somebody said that "Christians in this country have been persecuted during the pandemic." Given my long-ago major in English, I thought "persecuted" was a strange word to use, no matter what his point was. He went on to complain that the new administration promised to bring unity but they haven't done it. Given that the new administration was inaugurated only 24 days ago, I thought that was a strange complaint, because imagine what he'd say if someone had made a complaint about Trump 24 days after his inauguration. I decided that was enough strange statements to listen to for one sitting and turned the radio off.
Drivetexas.org had warned me of 2 possible icy spots on the farm-to-market road I'd chosen, so I took it with some trepidation, but I crossed the reservoir without a hint of ice and those 2 icy spots were nonexistent. I couldn't even see that there'd been any trouble there - no sand on the road, no sign of a wreck, no nothing but regular roadway. I guess I got lucky.
I passed through the unincorporated town of Etoile, which was originally named Macedonia for the nearby Macedonia Springs. The town managed to get a post office in 1886 by agreeing to pay for the mail to be forwarded from Nacogdoches and to change the town's name. Etoile means "star" in French. I have no idea what was wrong with Macedonia or where they came up with Etoile. Fewer than 70 people lived here by 2000, most of them retirees.
Coming into San Augustine, I passed signs for Mission Dolores State Historical Site and for El Camino Real de los Tejas. I've run across pieces of El Camino before - in Goliad, for instance - but haven't gotten around to looking it up until now. The road was essentially created by Native Americans who traded goods along this route for centuries. When Spain claimed this land and sent priests out to "civilize" the Indians, they used this road between Natchitoches, LA, and Mexico City, and established missions along the way. Because these missions were usually tiny, staffed with few priests, and plagued with supply problems, they were often abandoned and then restaffed, later to be abandoned again.
Mission Dolores was one of these, built in 1721, and despite the best efforts of archaeologists and historians, any remains of the buildings are below ground and now unlikely to be found. Some information is available at this link. https://www.waymarking.com/Mission-Dolores-State-Historic-Site
San Augustine itself, pop. 2,108, is today the county seat.
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| San Augustine County Courthouse in San Augustine |
All these towns I've been passing through today are old, by Texas standards at least. Nothing like settlements on the East Coast of the US, of course, but San Augustine was founded in 1837, which is early for these unsettled parts.
Less than 20 miles down the road I came to the town of Center, pop. 5,193. This too is a county seat and here too I found some oddities.
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| Shelby County Courthouse in Center |
This courthouse was built in 1885 and has been described as "a somewhat naive version of Romanesque Revival design." Also as a "romanticized" design. It looks to me like the stone is badly in need of cleaning, but I doubt if the county will ever be able to afford it.
As far as I can tell, this photo is actually of the back of the courthouse, but almost every street anywhere near this area was blocked off for some kind of construction project and I couldn't get anywhere near the front. The whole town seemed to be out playing ring-around-the-rosy, with all of us following bizarre routes for detours and trying to cross roads that weren't designed to handle this level of traffic. I just kept trying to make turns that would get me back where I wanted and eventually made it this far, and by then I wasn't interested in even getting out of the RV (the dogs tried hard to convince me, but the weather was still yucky - cold and damp).
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| A side view of the courthouse (on the right) that says 1885 near the top; as far as I can figure the building on the left was the historic jail. |
One of the oddities about this place is that Center is the Shelby County seat, not Shelbyville.
Shelbyville was founded in the 1820s by a group of settlers from Nashville, TN, who originally called the town (surprise!) Nashville. In 1837, they renamed it for Revolutionary War hero and Kentucky (!) governor Isaac Shelby. For some time, logically enough, it was the county seat. According to Wikipedia, "In 1866, in a contested fight for the county seat, county records were spirited away in the dead of the night and Center became the new Shelby County seat of government." Now, I've had several writing courses and every one of them insists that using the passive voice is a mistake. And this passage is entirely in the passive voice, which sounds to me more like a cover-up than a mistake.
Another oddity is that Shelby County was part of the battleground of the Regulator-Moderator War. Though I think I've heard of this, I couldn't call anything to mind, even after I'd read this account. With all the fraud, feuds, cattle rustling and revenge killings, this war ought to be taking its place in American lore alongside the Hatfield-McCoy feud and the Bleeding Kansas fights. https://en.wikipedia.org/Regulator-Moderator-War
About 30 miles farther along the road I came to Carthage, pop. 6,779. By now the dogs were so insistent that I agreed to stop for a walk, even though it was still very cold, windy and damp. Even Dexter got tired of the weather after a bit.
Just before we went out, I got a phone call from tonight's campground. They wanted me to know they'd be shutting off all the water in the campground beginning tomorrow at noon and offered me the choice of either coming as planned, but without access to water, or of not coming and they'd give me a refund. Well, that worked out perfectly for me, because I'd already decided to spend only 1 night there so as to beat the snow to Dallas, so I agreed to stay tonight but to leave tomorrow if they'd give me a refund. Perfect. I'd been planning to just eat the unused cost, and now I didn't have to.
Carthage was named for Carthage, MS, and was founded in 1847. Apparently, local folks were pretty apathetic about city government, though, because they let local governing be done by the county off and on over the next 70 years. Beginning in 1913, they finally came up with a structure they could stick with, but that's the opposite of usual city histories.
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| Panola County Courthouse in Carthage |
Within a few blocks of this courthouse I found 2 very large Baptist churches (they really were separate congregations) and buildings for several other denominations. I guess this is a real church-going town.
From there I passed through Beckville, pop. 847, "Home to Demorrio Williams of the Kansas City Chiefs." (Every town, no matter how small, has its claim to fame.)
And then on to Tatum, pop. 1,385, established 1882, according to a sign in town. Wikipedia doesn't confirm that; instead, it says the area was settled in the 1840s by Albert Tatum and his second wife (I don't know why that matters) and they built a large plantation (suggesting slaves, though not a hint of it on the Wikipedia entry, which mentioned no workers at all (which again suggests slaves)). The railroad came through in 1885, which is when the town was platted. To be fair, the official website for the town does mention the slaves (I knew it), as well as some of the other local characters. https://tatumtexas.com/history-of-tatum And the city says the railroad came through in 1882, which explains their sign.
Tonight's campground is about 4 miles out of town. As I'd figured, I didn't have internet access. But we had plenty of room to walk around because so few people had decided to come camp in the winter, so the dogs were happy.
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