"The San Diego Plot to steal Deep South Texas"
E . J . F L A T O
2 0 1 5
NARRATOR: In a baseball cap, near foreground.
This is a true story of Texas history. Happened to me when I was about 9 – now I’m as old as the folks in the story.
"my day, my normal day, for a nine year old in the Texican /Mexican border country,,,during the few years of relative peace there, began in the garage helping my dad make bullets, a necessary chore for a man who made a legal living with a gun on his hip."
Daily practice was the rule, because each time you drew it could be a life or death situation. We were meeting two Ranger friends at a shooting range, and I asked my Dad “why are we here?" He said: "I wanted you to meet these folks!"
Mr. Jim Cottingham, whom you know well, and this is Mr. John R. Peavey a Ranger Scout whose hip shooting techniques have made the text books, lot of laughter. Mr. Peavey performed several amazing demonstrations of his hipshots with a pistol and a Winchester.
Then Mr. Jim Cottingham brought out his newest, this was the first time he'd put them to the test,, two chrome 45's like his usual silver trigger 45's but all shiney with handles of carved Wooly Mastadone tusk. I never saw what the carvings were, but they were beautiful, there was a little bluing on the chrome behind the handle.
With one of these in each hand he gave my dad a signal to throw an old paint can, and during the next minute kept the can flying with twin 45 slugs,,,,,wow,,,
I was young and impressionable but that was over the top.
My dad cooked at sundown and then the stories of Texas in its most lawless days came out.
No alcohol was present to fuel the theater, just low, “pity for the specie innuendo” in their voices,, but all had their sidearms on the table, out of habit I guess.
Mr. Jim requested the story of "The San Diego Plot to Steal Deep South Texas",,,,,from the lips of a man who had lived it,,,! Mr. John Peavey.
Scene changes to campfire with three silhouettes listening to Ranger Scout John R. Peavey.
Lights go down as narrator moves to his chair position. Lights come up and it’s Mr. Peavey cleaning his pistol, but really the narrator in a cowboy hat.
“In those days,,(January 1915) San Diego was often referred to as the free state of Duval tho it was the county seat. The head politico boss, the Duke of Duval.,,,,,,,,,,, Did whatever he wanted here in the middle of this thorny desert.
In the nearby town of Hebbronville there were no gambling houses, saloons or prostitutes ,,,while San Diego had little else,,, lots of prostitutes, bootleggers and smugglers, and urban structures to support it all -- a thriving little crossroads of evil,,,! The tequileros muletrains from the border ended here and the rail line from Laredo to Corus Christi passed through. And from this nest of lowlifes with guns, rumors had been flying for weeks about a meeting of all the wealthy Mexican land owners, and in early January of 1915 public speakers claimed the “land between the Rio Grande and the Nueces rivers belonged to the Mexican people”, and that if they banded together they could take it away from Texas and form a new republic,,,and furthermore,,there' were many handbills (printed in Spanish) announcing all Negros and foreigners were invited to join this revolution backed by two long time residents of Cameron Co. De La Rosa and Pizanno.,,,,The hand bill continues, on Feburary 22 after dark, they would take up arms and destroy all male gringos over sixteen,,but the women and children would be left alone ,,as a reward they would be given land in the new republic.
The Rio Grande valley folk got so upset they sent McAllen vigilantes into Mexico after the two men. The press that printed the handbills was found in Brownsville and all were incarcerated in Corpus Christi.
Free will’s dance partner is grand suspicion.
Border justice abides. In all nationalities there abounds thieves, cut throats and bandits. But the disorganized conditions of Old Mexico at that time because of the haciendistas revolution, provided verdant soil for them to organize, and flourish, much like the cartels today,,, as a response some local citizens shot first and asked no questions.
Because intermarriage and families along the river has had no bigotry attached for thousands of years they all knew each other.
The U.S. Border defense under Wilson was a little like the Korean war under Truman where the commies had sanctuary beyond the 38th parallel -- the Mexican bandits were safe south of the Rio Grande,,,,,,,,,what?,,,,, oh yeah,,,,,,
Thanks of course to the “swivel chair cowboys” in Washington D.C.
From 1915 to 1917 the banditos activity increased manyfold and also pursuant to orders (from the top) the arms embargo was on for a few weeks,,,then off for a few days, and for the military no shooting on Mexican soil, it was easy to see who was connected, and made $$,,, still no one was held accountable.
So vigilanti justice became the order of the day,,a detachment from the 26th infantry near Santa Maria ,right down on the river, were being fired upon from the trees across the Rio Grande. The snipers had a height advantage over their sand bags, and soldiers were being picked off as in a game,, they could not fire back.
Even tho I could not participate, I could guide, so early the next morning I took a customs agent and a deputy sheriff to a low vantage point, up river,, about 8:o'clock the bandits climbed the trees and began to taunt and shoot at the soldiers,, begging them to come out and fight,,,,
twelve bullets and twelve bodies later, the bandits had to re-think their position,,
the ones on the ground did not even make the brush, and hide.. As I mentioned many citizens were also good with their guns.
Then in March of 1915,Villa started his rampage south along the Rio Grande ,taking over every town down to Brownsville. Eventually General John Pershing was brought in, and it played out like all wars, folks get hurt and someone way off gets rich from the weapons and the bullets and the loot.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,”
Lights go down and the scene changes back to storyteller in the baseball cap :
At this point Mr. Jim began telling about how our campsite was once a huge ebony forest burned down by the govt. to get rid of banditos. But It had been a long day,, and this nine year old Buckaroo, went to sleep,, with dreams asunder, knowing my dad would keep me safe !
Very very slow dissolve to dark,,,,,
APPLAUSE