Texas Travel Information

Over the years the stories, the music, and the history have all combined to give this iconic community between Fredericksburg and Boerne an image that any place would have a tough time living up to.

I had no idea what to expect as I turned onto the Luckenbach Town Loop off of Ranch Road 1376.  I rounded the final curve in the narrow road and there it was . . . a spread of old-style tin-roofed barnwood buildings set beneath towering shade trees and surrounded by rows of motorcycles, SUVs and pickup trucks. Welcome to Luckenbach!

It could have been a movie set, but this was the place of “blue eyes cryin’ in the rain…”.

The dust rose in puffs around my boots as I walked toward the Post Office. A tourist sat on the front porch of the historic old wooden building. A sign overhead read “U.S. Post Office, Luckenbach, Texas, 1850-1971”. We both nodded as I walked past.

The path I picked led to a live acoustic guitar venue where a single performer played his Texas tunes to a small audience of appreciative guests. Like me, some were first timers, while others were regulars who come to Luckenbach when they feel the urge to leave it all behind for an hour or two, listen to a little Country music and sip on a cold Lone Star.

The smell of barbecue filled the air as I took a quick look into the nearby dance hall with its well-worn hardwood floor and array of overhead string lights.  This was the stuff that memories are made of. Some of Texas’ most well known performers have sung their songs here. Ray Benson, Gary P. Nunn, Charlie Robison, and Willie’s daughter Paula Nelson were set for gigs around the holidays. I closed my eyes and could almost hear them among the sound of revving Harley’s and children playing in the manicured glade across the creek.

As the web site reads, “ Luckenbach . . . A Texas state of mind, where you can kick back, relax and get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life—like a step back in time.” That’s true, but for me it was more. It was a look at how Texas used to be and how many of us sometimes wish it still was.  Now that I’ve found it, let’s go to Luckenback, Texas . . . more often.

I was torn. What would it be? What would it be?

I had heard that Holder’s Barbecue and Burgers was the best. Not just in Montgomery County, but among the best in Texas. 

The tales of Bobby Holder’s barbecue brisket sandwich were legend. I’d also been told stories about the juicy cheese burger and how people would drive for miles to his restaurant along Highway 105 in Dobbin between Montgomery and Plantersville. 

As I stood at the walk-up window waiting to place my order I couldn’t help but gawk at the décor. Hundreds of license plates from across the U.S. carpeted the rustic barnwood walls. A handwritten cardboard sign near the register read, “If You’re In A Hurry, Go To Houston!” 

I do love a good cheeseburger, but today the thought of a smoked barbecue brisket sandwich sounded real good. I got it with extra sauce, pickles, onions and pickled jalapenos. As a good friend of mine says, it was “mighty fine.” The brisket was piled high on a fresh bun and the sweet iced tea washed down a side of hot, crispy fries with ease.

The smoky sweet barbecue sauce worked its way into my mustache and ran down my chin. I didn’t even try to stop it. This was good Texas eatin’.

As I savored this roadside treat I took in the atmosphere. Seated to my right at a heavy wooden picnic table with names and hearts carved into its surface was a monk, a gypsy, and two civilians . . . obviously on the way the Texas Renaissance Festival a few miles to the east. A large ice house-style dining room and dance hall to the side featured a whiskey keg bar surrounded by barnwood walls and topped with a high rusty tin ceiling.

Deer and boar head mounts shared wall space along side neons and signs with slogans like, “Fish Naked . . . Show Off Your Bobbers”, and a bikini clad mannequin cowgirl on a balcony overlooking the scene.

The wooden floor had been intentionally designed to creak with the sound of a much older building and the wide garage doors across the way opened onto an oak shaded yard where live music plays when the weather cooperates.  This was the whole package.

The building, barbecue, burgers and Bobby Holder . . . It was a Texas-style treat for the senses, and a great outcome from my dilemma in Dobbin.

Ghost sightings are nothing unusual in San Antonio. The downtown is filled with “spirited spots” said to be the favorite haunts of the departed.

With all the carnage surrounding the siege of the Alamo in 1836 it should be no surprise that the historic site and the city blocks surrounding it are said to be loaded with paranormal activity. Add to that natural deaths in the years to follow and you have the perfect scenario for specters and spooks near the Riverwalk.

The beautiful Menger Hotel is reported to be among the most haunted of San Antonio’s historic downtown locations. Directly across the street from the Alamo and built on the site of Texas’ first brewery, the Menger Hotel opened for business in 1859. From President Theodore Roosevelt to baseball great Babe Ruth, the Menger continues to provide a nostalgic place of rest for the living  . . . and the dead.

My friend Jo Cox spent many years working in San Antonio’s hospitality industry. From the legendary St. Anthony to the Crockett Hotel, and other properties, she says the Menger still ranks at the top when it comes to things that go bump in the night.

There is the story of ghostly hotel chambermaid who was murdered by her husband. Sallie White was so loved by the hotel staff that they paid for her funeral, and out of apparent gratitude she is said to still roam the halls of the Victorian wing of the Menger late at night attempting to continue her assigned housekeeping duties.

The spirit of a woman wearing a blue dress and small, metal spectacles is often seen knitting in the old lobby. It is said that she appears to be an “intelligent” haunting, and actually rude to anyone when spoken to.

Tales of the ghost of King Ranch founder Captain Richard King persist to this day. King spent the last days of his life in his suite at the Menger and his funeral was held in the parlor there. Many employees and guests have said that the spirit of Captain King simply drifts in and out of his former suite without regard for walls and closed doors.

On occasion items have moved on their own or “floated” in mid air, and for years staff and guests have reported hearing voices and laughter when there is no viable explanation. As my friend Jo once told me, the Menger Hotel is the place for a supernatural stay in the Alamo City.

By day the City of Tomball, 25-miles northwest of Houston, is filled with thriving antique and specialty shops, mom-and-pop eateries, entertainment and a quality of life that makes living in a small town special.

Despite the lively daytime activities here and in communities just a short drive away, it’s rumored that after dark the surrounding countryside is filled with a nightlife better suited for those who have crossed over. No, not into Montgomery County . . . those who have passed away, yet feel the need to remain in Tomball.

THE MUSEUM MYSTERY

Nestled in the heart of the popular Tomball Museum Center with its historic homes, log cabin, church, one-room school house and farm museum is the Griffin Memorial House.

Built about 1860 by Eugene Pillot, a renowned builder along the Texas Gulf Coast, the Griffin House is a beautifully restored example of Civil War era architecture complete with its own apparition in the attic.

Museum Director, Charles Hall shared with me the story of a female spirit in the Griffin House that has circulated for years. As the story goes the figure of a woman dressed in period clothing has been seen in the upper reaches of the home and more than once rocking quietly back and forth in her rocking chair in the parlor.

The ghost is thought to be the 21-year-old daughter of the Faris family who once lived in the home. The mysterious cause of the young woman’s death has never been determined.

SPRING CREEK SPECTERS

During the Civil War a Confederate powder mill sat in what is now Spring Creek Park, just a short drive from downtown Tomball. It was there Texans loyal to the Confederacy worked around the clock making cannon powder for the rebel army’s artillery pieces.

In 1864 a horrific explosion destroyed the facility killing three men working there. The force of the blast was so great that a huge crater was created that over time filled with water and became a popular swimming hole for locals.

Despite rumors of spirits at the pond and in the surrounding woods, the lure of the cool dark water continued to draw swimmers to the powder mill site willing to risk a ghostly encounter for a quick dip. Unfortunately for some that decision ended in their death. After several curious drownings the powder mill pond was fenced, but the rumors remain even today among park-goers and overnight campers.

A paranormal investigation was conducted at Spring Creek Park in 2008 with results showing evidence of unexplained responses to questioning, shadowy images and psychic impressions. Could these have been the spirits of deceased soldiers of the Confederacy, drowning victims or possibly both?

GRAVEYARD GOTCHA

Historic old cemeteries surround Tomball. From the Pillot plots and the Salem Lutheran Church cemetery, to the Magnolia’s community cemetery and others in Klein and Spring, exploring the final resting places of founding fathers and mothers can be an adventure . . . especially after dark.

A story circulated on the Internet involves the Dowdell cemetery just east of downtown Tomball on FM 2920. It’s said that a group of friends looking for a graveyard “gotcha” parked their car outside the locked gate of the cemetery late one night.

It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of approaching footsteps through the open windows. As the sound grew louder the group peered into the darkness but saw nothing. The sound continued to “walk”around the car, pausing at the rear, then slowly move away into the night.

Minutes later, as they sat there talking about their creepy encounter, a green light flashed through the cemetery and the chained gate began to rattle on its own. The terrified group drove back into Tomball and later that night found unexplained handprints in the dust on the back window of their hatchback.

The days around Halloween tend to make one wonder a bit more about things that go bump in the night; things to be explored after dark, or better yet, left alone. Welcome to Tomball, y’all.

Just north of Houston is the community of Spring. Once a thriving hub of railroad traffic, Spring played host to those who rode the rails as well as those who laid them.

Today the little village is known as Old Town Spring and its oak lined streets are laced with quaint shops, tea rooms and themed venues featuring the best in live Texas style music.

After more than 100 years, Wunsche Bros. Cafe & Saloon, one of my favorite eateries in southeast Texas, still sits along side the railroad tracks in Spring serving up chicken fried steak, juicy burgers, sauerkraut balls and the coldest beer around. But the beer isn't the only reason that Wunsche Bros. is known as the most "spirited" spot in town. It has more to do with the resident ghost that wanders the hard wood floors late at night after the music done and the two-steppers have headed home.

Charlie, the resident specter of Wunsche Bros., is thought to be the ghost of Charlie Wunsche, son of the town's founder. Along with his brothers Dell and Willie, Charlie built the two story Wunsche Bros. Hotel & Saloon in 1902 and apparently upon his death decided to never check out.

Whenever remodeling or construction is being done on the old landmark you can count on Charlie making his presence known. Coffee machines will start and stop on their own, nozzles for the soft drink dispensers will mysteriously disappear only to reappear weeks later, unlocked doors will not open as if being held by someone on the other side, chairs rattle and move about, and strange shadows move along the old hallway upstairs. "Without a doubt, it definitely gets weird around here sometimes," Roxanne joked.

No sooner had she spoken than a chilling wind swept around her and the man seated at the table vanished before her eyes.

Roxanne thinks that she may have seen Charlie herself one night after closing. "Our whole staff believes that Charlie watches out for us," she said. "I had locked up late one night and was walking to my car parked in the dark behind the cafe, when I had this strong urge to look back over my shoulder at the building. That's something that I never do. But, when I looked up at where the liquor room used to be on the second floor I saw a shadowy figure of a man staring out the window at me." Though not frightening the event was unnerving Roxanne said.

All of Wunsche Bros.' staff have a special respect for Charlie. After all he did build the place more than 100 years ago, and they certainly don't want to offend him.

"Charlie is friendly. He watches over us and that's just how we want to keep it," Roxanne said with a grin.








Michael Baxter is the Texas Travelin' Man

Always stop by TourTexas.com for the lastest Texas Travel Information, to order Texas Travel Guides and more...

For years the Mernard House at 33rd Street and Avenue N 1/2 has been known as "the" haunted house of Galveston.

Built in 1838, the home of Michael Mernard - one of the original signers of the Texas Declaration of Independence, sat empty for many years with its windows boarded shut. The imposing oaks surrounding the mansion only added to its eerie appearance. In fact, long time Islanders such as my old friend Sheila Lidstone still talk about crossing the street as kids in order to avoid passing directly in front of the "creepy" old house. Like Ashton Villa, Mernard House is today one of Galveston's most beautifully restored historic homes with rumors of its own resident ghost.

According to local legend, well before the Civil War the Mernard House was the site of Galveston's first ever Mardi Gras Ball. At midnight a young woman tripped on the front hall stairway, fell and broke her neck.

For years that followed on Mardi Gras night, Mernard's slaves were said to have seen the ghost of the young woman standing on the stairs. It is not known for sure who the young woman was, but it is believed to be Mernard's daughter, Clara, who reportedly died in her teens.

Another ghostly tale of Galveston Island . . .
 





  Michael Baxter is the Texas Travelin' Man

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Music Among the Manuscripts

If asked to name the most "spirited" cities in Texas, San Antonio, Galveston and a few others would probably top most lists. But among the rocket scientists, oil workers and its towering office buildings, Houston has accumulated a fair number of haunted hangouts over the years. After all, the Bayou City has been around since 1836.

Mr. Cramer was loner who lived in a basement apartment beneath the library. After working all day he found companionship in Pete and his ever-present violin. Seldom was the night when Mr. Cramer didn't stroll through the building playing beautiful melodies on his instrument, eventually making his way to the ornate rotunda where he would perform one man concerts late into the night. It was said that his lilting version of the "Blue Danube Waltz" could bring a man to tears.

Sometime in the late 1930s Mr. Cramer died in his small basement apartment. But even so, folks said that his music could still be heard throughout the building for years after his passing. Skeptics believed that it was only the wind blowing through the drafty old library, but those who heard the "Blue Danube Waltz" on windless nights were convinced that Mr. Cramer and Pete were still on the job minding the manuscripts at the Houston Public Library.

Galveston Island is one of the most "spirited" towns in Texas.  From the old community cemetery on Broadway to several stately homes and residences on the east end, Galveston is said to be filled with Gulf Coast ghosts after sunset.

Carl Wade is was said to be one of several folks over the years to see for himself evidence of one of Galveston's well known specters - the ghost of Miss Bettie Brown, the flamboyant hostess of Ashton Villa. Ashton Villa is a marvelous example of Italianate architecture built in 1859 by James Moreau Brown. Today the magnificent house on Broadway is a museum home open to the public.

Though strongly denied by management for many years, it has been rumored for years that the spirit of Miss Bettie is still very much "alive" and well at Ashton Villa. "While my brother was a docent at the house he told me about straightening a bedspread in Miss Bettie's sitting room at closing time only to find it rumpled the next morning as if someone had sat or slept on it during the night," reported Carl's sister Adrienne.

The rumpled bed linens were just one of the more regular occurrences referred to by staff members over the years when speaking of Miss Bettie's spirit. It was reported that a caretaker sleeping in the carriage house adjacent to Ashton Villa was awakened late one night by the sound of a piano playing. He reluctantly entered the house and is said to have seen the faint image of a woman sitting at the keyboard of the home's beautiful antique piano. An instant later the music stopped and the apparition vanished. Needless to say the flustered caretaker slept with the lights on in his carriage house apartment for the rest of the night.

There are stories of ceiling fans and lights that mysteriously turn off and on, burglar alarms sounding while in the "off" position during the day, and a trunk belonging to Miss Bettie that locks and unlocks itself without a key. There was an alleged sighting of Miss Bettie during Galveston's annual Dickens Christmas blow-out in 1991. An unidentified woman in a nineteenth century turquoise gown was seen by a docent standing at the top of the home's grand staircase. What made this so odd was that Ashton Villa had not yet opened to the public, and no staff person working in the house was dressed in a turquoise gown that day. The incident was written off as nothing more than Miss Bettie overseeing the final preparations for the holiday festivities.

Though there have been many unexplained happenings reported throughout the years, no one has ever had an ill-feeling about the house or its resident spirit. Ashton Villa's former manager Lucy Testa summed it up best saying, "Several of us have had different feelings while in the house, but never anything spooky or gloomy. It's a happy house, and we were never afraid of the presence that we all knew lived there," she said.

A short drive up the coast from Corpus Christi are the communities of Rockport and Fulton.

I had driven through several times over the years, but on this particular day I decided to stop and see what it was that many of my friends found so endearing about this part of Texas.

Sure, being on the Texas Gulf Coast in itself was a plus, but there had to be more. There had to be something else that draws guests by the thousands  . . . it didn’t take me long to find out why.

We came into Rockport down a drive of eclectic shops, restaurants and art galleries. The pastel colors, shingle signs, and wall murals were what you might expect from a quirky coastal community.

 My favorite wall art was a faded advertisement for The Cool Coast Camp. An almost folk art image of what appeared to be a giant sawfish was painted on a building along with a notation of its 17-foot length, 6 ½ foot width and 2,000 lbs. weight. To the side it read free admission, and at the bottom was brushed, “Hamburgers and Ice Cream”. I love this stuff!

Our next stop was the marina with row after row of gulf worthy vessels, some with masts, others without, but all really cool for a guy who has spend very little time on the water. Nearby were the public beach and the Texas Maritime Museum. A boater told me that the Museum was the site of the annual Rockport Festival of Wine & Food, and was filled with stories about the rich maritime history of Texas. He had me at wine and food.

From there my Texas Travelin’ Gal and I drove over to the neighboring community of Fulton with its resort-style homes and hidden getaways. It was there that we happened upon the incredible Fulton Mansion, completed in 1877. 

With an architectural design reminiscent of the Addams Family with a Texas flare, the Fulton Mansion offers a rare glimpse into the posh Victorian world of a prominent South Texas family during the days when central heating, interior gas lighting and flush toilets were a novelty here.

From birding and fishing, to shopping for art treasures, or just relaxing in the salty breeze, I now have a better understanding of why my buddies like this part of the state. The Rockport/Fulton area is now on my list of places to spend more time when traveling along the south Texas coast on Texas 35.

It has sat quietly along Highway 237 between Warrenton and Round Top for more than a century - a tiny sanctuary for reviving the soul and praising the Lord.

At just over 250 square feet, Saint Martin’s is said to be the World’s smallest Catholic Church. The simple white frame structure is home to an equally small congregation that meets there for Mass once a month.

From the hardwood floor - worn smoothed from years of wear, and twelve small bench pews, to the exposed roof beams and traditional bell steeple above, this pint sized house of worship may be simple in construction, but it’s filled with the Spirit.

On either side of the ornate gold and white painted alter are iconic symbols Catholicism: the Virgin Mary, Christ and a Crucifix, and a large oil painting of St. Martin – Patron Saint of soldiers. There are vases of fresh and silk flowers, and framed words of wisdom.

A hand-written note lay on the Alter – an open letter to God. Though short on words, the message was strong. “Almighty Father. Empower the Holy Spirit to help us with decisions that we have to make at this time. Sweet Jesus, give strength to our daughter and her family to cope with having a very special daughter, our RETT ANGEL. Thank you Lord for all you have given us, especially our children.”

Small Texas towns. What’s not to like about them? Maybe it’s a special shop, restaurant, historical site or the town “character” you meet at the gas station that makes the visit memorable. But, on this day it was more. It was the white limestone church on the hill with its steeple towering above twisted old trees. It was the historic Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Round Top.

Dedicated in 1866, the church was designed in an old world style by Carl Bauer, a German immigrant who moved to Texas along with so many others during that time. The $2,400 cash needed to construct the building was collected by the congregation and all the inside furnishings – from the altar covering to the massive pulpit Bible and Crucifix - were donated.

For more than 140-years, music has lifted high into the sky around Round Top every Sunday from the handmade cedar pipe organ that still plays from the balcony overlooking the sanctuary. Its 408 hand-shaped pipes were crafted from cedar trees grown nearby.

On the gently sloping turf to the rear is the church cemetery.  There are the headstones marking the final resting places of church founders, Texas war veterans, children taken by illness and more. It’s the history of Round Top there to ponder.

As impressive as the building, its contents, and its long history are, one element within the church spoke to me like no other; God’s glass . . . the stained glass windows that have inspired congregations for generations.

Shades of blue and purple are wrapped in bands of gold and orange. Diamond shaped panels spray a rainbow of colors onto worshippers seated in the well-worn wooden pews below.

Each window displays its own distinctive biblical message in a circular pattern among the diamonds. One features a lamb and pennant, another a cross and crown, and a third displays an open bible with the Greek letters Alpha and Omega. The image of two carved stone tablets with the Roman numerals “I, II, III, IV . . . X” share another window with crossed trumpets announcing “Ye Praise the Lord”. It is an emotionally moving display of spiritual art created by devout German believers in small town Texas at the end of the Civil War.

The Bethlehem Lutheran Church is at 409 S. White Street, just a block or two off Highway 237 in Round Top. You can’t miss it . . . just look for the steeple on the hill and God’s glass in the walls.

TOUR TEXAS: Whiskey. Steaks. Whiskey. Steaks.

I’ve made the Josephine Street Café in San Antonio a regular stop for more than 25-years. It’s the kind of place that locals flock to every day and tourists happen upon by accident or on the recommendation of someone who knows good food.

I can remember twenty-five years ago asking the concierge at the Hilton Riverwalk where I might find a good restaurant where the locals eat. He told me to go out of the driveway, then down Broadway, take a left at the Pearl Brewery and look for the flashing signs that read “Whiskey, Steaks, Whiskey, Steaks” . . . he added “park under the freeway and order the steak”.

Since that first outing little has changed at the Josephine Street Café and I wouldn’t visit the Alamo City without a steak and Shiner Bock in a corner booth there.

On this trip a buddy and I settled in around sunset. I didn’t even have to look at the menu. It was the 16 oz. T-bone steak with mashed potatoes, white gravy and a single, large onion ring that spoke to me.

Regular customers and first-timers continued to come and go on the well worn hardwood floor as classic county music played overhead. The old wooden bar along one wall was busy with orders for Texas craft beers, Budweiser and mixed drinks. A waitress patiently waited behind the tree that pierces the dining room floor and ceiling, while a group of customers made their way to their table.

I really love this place. It’s like Cheers with history. From the wait staff to the customers, Texas friendly is the norm and the food is consistently the primary reason for coming.

My steak, topped with seasoned butter, was done just right, and went down great with the ice cold Texas beer from the little brewery about two hours to the east of San Antonio.

My friend and I talked about this and that, watched the diners as they enjoyed their meals, and laughed at the passing convertible party bus decorated with Lone Star and Schlitz beer signs. It was a great night to be in San Antonio.

That’s when our waitress suggested the “best apple pie and ice cream in the entire state of Texas”… come on, who could pass that up? Not me.

Several minutes later the large slice of homemade apple pie with an equally large scoop of Bluebell vanilla was set down on our table. It was awe inspiring . . . a sugary golden crust over cinnamon laced baked apples, and a layer of melting Texas tradition.

The Josephine Street Café is San Antonio. It’s one of those places where the locals congregate to have a good time over a great meal or a brew or two. It’s my go-to place when passing through and I can’t wait to try the ribeye on my next trip to town. I might even have another slice of apple pie.

TOUR TEXAS: "PIGGIN' OUT" IN SAN ANTONIO

It had been three years since my last visit to the San Antonio landmark. No, not the Alamo. The original Pig Stand Restaurant founded in 1921.

Once a nationwide drive-in chain, today it’s only the original eatery on Broadway in the shadow of I-35 that has survived with a full menu of oh-so-good comfort food and old-style service.

A short drive from the touristy destinations along the Riverwalk, the Pig Stand is a flashback to a time when the waitresses called everyone sweetie, signature recipes remained unchanged from year to year, and repeat customers were your best marketing partners.

Smartly dressed in black slacks and shoes, a starched white blouse and long black apron, Cheryl took my order. “Welcome to the Pig Stand,” she said with a slight drawl, taking my drink order . . . the ice tea is really nice. Really.

Before looking at the menu I asked what one item the Pig Stand was best known for. Without hesitation she said, “Oh sweetie, that’s the pig sandwich . . . “. She had me at “sweetie”.

While waiting for my dinner I took in the surroundings. The booths were tufted red and gold sparkle vinyl, with diner-style tables of cream colored tops and a well-worn aluminum strip around the lip. The busy counter offered a similar color scheme with individual swivel stools for diners going solo or wanting a quick in-and-out service.

A tribute to the early years, each booth had its own mini-juke box loaded with hundreds of tunes from Techno-Cumbia and ZZ Top, to George Strait and the Angels . . . “My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble…” It was a serious blend of music for the diverse mix of customers who frequent the restaurant.

On the walls, shelves, counter tops, booth backs, bars and hanging from the tiled ceiling were examples of all things PIG. Ceramic pigs, metal pigs, glass pigs, piggy banks, flying pigs, stuffed pigs, pig pitchers and salt and pepper shakers, a pink pig mailbox, pig sculptures, pig neons, pig pictures, pig paintings and Miss Piggy herself . . . awesome!

It was a wondrous moment when Cheryl sat my meal in front of me. The pig sandwich was a stack of pork tenderloin smoked on-site with a light spicy relish and homemade barbecue sauce to rival the best I’ve ever tasted. Double dipped fries and a lone onion ring complemented the Cole slaw made fresh throughout the day from a secret recipe that my waitress wouldn’t share. Dinner was a serious treat with a 90-year legacy.

As I ate I watched customers come and go, each being greeted by Mary Ann Hill, longtime owner of the Pig Stand who worked her way up from waitress to “top sow”. Her smile was infectious and her welcome was genuine to all who walked in.

Cheryl came back to check on me. “How ‘bout some dessert sweetie?” she asked. “We have the best peach cobbler in Texas . . . I wouldn’t lie to you.” Again, she had me at sweetie. 

The big bowl of homemade peach cobbler with Bluebell vanilla was without a doubt impressive. Sweet, crusty and with a hint of cinnamon . . . combined with a cup of fresh decaf and this was a blog worthy experience.

On my way out of San Antonio the next morning I stopped by the Pig Stand for a quick breakfast of egg and chorizo sausage tacos and coffee. Oh, it made the four hour drive home to Houston much more enjoyable.

 Thank you Mary Ann . . . I will be back.

Fall in Texas. Sometimes it’s cool, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes there’s color in the leaves, and other times no so much. This year it’s been a lot like the scorching, dry summer that has preceded it. But despite what nature may serve up in any given year, fall in Texas is legendary for two things . . . football and the tailgate parties that come before the action on the field.

From the Pros to college, and high school to youth leagues, tailgating is a statement. It’s an art. It’s the opportunity to experience a shared interest with a few friends or a few hundred. It’s a serious part of fall football and no one does it better than Texas.

An Aggie by marriage, I was invited to make the trip to College Station recently to watch the SMU Mustangs go head-to-head with Texas A&M. I had never been to a game at Kyle Field so I was really looking forward to the contest.  

Dressed in my recently purchased maroon and white, I was ready for the game, but not for all the pre-game parties that I found clustered throughout the campus. It was the sort of thing that I had heard about from die-hard fans for years, but not even my fertile imagination would have done justice to the real thing.

Row after row of Aggie logoed pop-up tents cozied up to motor homes, folding chairs, ice chests, smokers and barbecue pits fired by Kingsford charcoal or 12-inch splits of hardwood. I’m sure that there were some Hank Hill propane aficionados somewhere, but they were well hidden from the purists among the shrubs and pick-ups.

I joined a group of Aggie tailgaters, not be confused with LSU “tailgators”, in a parking lot several long blocks from Kyle Field for a bit of pre-game revelry prior to kick-off.  The “Saw-em-Off Rangers” were a blend of alums, current students, family and friends brought together for an evening of football frenzy. Some had game tickets, while others would cheer their team on gather around the large flat-screen TV attached to the rear of the massive maroon and white tailgater trailer.

With the smell of smoke and barbecue from surrounding parties in the air, pans of well-seasoned beef and chicken fajitas were set out on our tables along with warm tortillas, guacamole, pico and more. Homemade desserts like chocolate iced Rice Krispy Treats and Jamie’s Whoop Pies – maroon-colored red velvet delights with sweet sour cream icing between the muffin top layers – provided a balance.

Large chests filled with iced cans of the official beverage of Texas were bottomless, as was the camaraderie. Washers were tossed at holes in plywood game squares much like horseshoes at posts. Footballs were flung overhead and maroon porta-potties soon filled to capacity. It was a great day to be on the campus of Texas A&M University.

Football season in Texas is short lived, but its long standing traditions live on. The rivalries are fierce and time spent together at the tailgate party deepens old friendships and creates new ones.

 If nothing more, grab a bucket of spicy wings, a six-pack of Shiner 102 and a buddy, drop the tailgate on your pick up or set a card table in the driveway, then crank up a game on the radio . . . It’s how we celebrate here. It’s football season in Texas.










  Michael Baxter is the Texas Travelin' Man

Always check TourTexas.com for Texas Tourist Information, Texas Travel Guides, Family Vacations and more.

He was sitting on a bench outside the recently restored railroad Depot in Hearne when I walked up with my camera in-hand. I nodded hello and he returned the gesture.

The Depot was nice. From the fresh paint and well manicured landscaping, to the attention given to authenticity, I was impressed.
 

I circled the historic yellow and brown building then took shots of the crossed sections of track out front signifying Hearne’s history as a cross-road for the railroad as lines traveled from north to south and east to west across Texas.

It was when I went to shoot an old railroad handcar mounted on a section of track alongside the Depot that he first spoke to me. “Want me to take your picture?” he asked in a slow drawl. “Climb up there and I’ll take your picture if you want.”

He was a gray mustached older gentleman, dressed in jeans and boots, with wide blue suspenders that almost glowed against a faded red shirt. On his red trucker cap was an embroidered patch sporting an old-style steam locomotive and the words “Progress Through Safety, Southern Pacific”.

I told him that I appreciated the offer, but would really like to take his photo on the handcar if he didn’t mind. He agreed and stepped high onto the car with the ease of a much younger man.

I got my shots and as he stepped back down to the track bed below he introduced himself as Bobby Jack Middleton, my guide for day if I wanted to take a look inside the Depot. As we walked Mr. Middleton explained that he was born and raised just a few miles north of Hearne in Calvert. He told me about leaving the small town long ago and working the rails for almost 40 years as a track maintenance man from one end of Texas to another.

As we talked Mr. Middleton showed me rooms of display cases filled with items such old oil lamps used by conductors and engineers many years ago. There were railroad signs on the walls, old freight carts loaded with authentic steamer trucks and well worn suitcases, and memorabilia from a time when the Western Union telegraph was as common as text messaging is today. The restored Western Union office inside the Depot is a near exact replica of how it once was according to my guide. And he should know . . . he remembered when this office was fully operational.

After my tour we continued to talk about his adventures on the rails and how, though it had been a tough life, it had been a good one. 

Bobby Jack Middleton is a retired railroad man who found his way home to a small town in Texas.  And, sitting quietly on his bench outside the old Depot in Hearne, he is the sort of character that makes traveling Texas so special.

In 1984, Vernon and Mary Bowers opened Kuntry Katfish with just ten tables and seating for forty. Today the Conroe landmark on Highway 105 has grown to three simply decorated dining rooms filled with catfish connoisseurs seven days a week.

I could have had a fried shrimp platter, frog legs or crawfish etouffe. I could have filled up on chicken fried steak with cream gravy or a half-pound Kuntry burger. But, when you venture beyond the end of your driveway to an eatery with the word “Katfish” in its name, you order the catfish.
 

I’ve eaten at Vernon’s Kuntry Katfish before, so I waited in mouth watering anticipation for the first course – a plate filled with hot southern hushpuppies fresh from the fryer and a bowl of signature pickled green tomato relish. . . oh, baby! 

The combination of those hot, crispy fried cornbread balls and the sweet and spicy tang of relish conjured up images of fishin’ poles and lazy green rivers, while “Mountain Music” by the band Alabama wafted from the speakers overhead.

When my order arrived I took a moment to enjoy the aroma and the presentation before me.  Five large, corn meal crusted catfish fillets were fried to golden perfection and stacked on a mound of homemade, skin-on fries. The freshly made tartar sauce only delivered more hits of deep south memories of my kidhood. As on previous visits to Vernon’s, my greasy fingers and I were lovin’ it.

Bite after bite soon made me realize that once the plate had been emptied there would be no room Vernon’s signature desserts. I love the homemade banana pudding, pecan cobbler, and brownies with ice cream, but this was the right decision for this particular visit. Catfish had brought me here and I would leave with the taste of catfish on my lips.

There are lots of good catfish restaurants across Texas. Mel’s in Tomball, Catfish Charlie’s in Corpus Christi, and the Clear Springs Restaurant in New Braunfels top my list. But today I was satisfied with the hushpuppies, tomato relish and tasty fillets that I found in Conroe, Texas.

Vernon’s Kuntry Katfish is at 5901 Old Highway 105 W. in Conroe. Visit www.kuntrykatfish.com for a look at the menu. 

   

TOUR TEXAS: They Were Way Too Cool For Me!

I had lunch with Bill Haley and the Comets, Rick Nelson and the Four Tops the other day . . . no, not in rock and roll heaven; at the City Diner & Oyster Bar in downtown Corpus Christi.

The City Diner has been a landmark for decades with an eclectic look of art deco architecture and a ’50-style black and white pallet. It’s a sort of Mel’s Drive-In with an attitude and no curb service.

We were led to our table past an open mesquite grill used on steaks and juicy mega burgers. There were miles of stainless steel, pink and white neon, and gray-topped tables paired with vinyl covered chairs and booths. As they used to say - it was a serious blast from the past.

A wall along side our corner booth was covered with framed yearbook pages and class photos from the 50s and 60s including an 8x10 black and white image of everyone’s favorite Angel, Farrah Fawcet. She must have been 18 or so, and a cutie even before the infamous red swimsuit pin-up poster.

While waiting for our meal to be delivered by a waitress who called me “hon”, my Texas Travelin’ Gal and I took in the atmosphere and listened to classic oldies like “Poison Ivy”, “Rock Around the Clock”, and “Blue Velvet”. We heard the Everly Brothers explain in song how little Suzy’s goose was cooked, her reputation was shot. So sad for Suzy, but my lunch was here!

Loaded with cheese, pickles, onions, jalapenos, lettuce and tomato, on a fresh bun, the quarter pound “Greasy Burger” was just as advertised . . .”A Hamburger should be a little greasy or it’s just not a Hamburger”, the menu read. The mesquite grill in the lobby had done its job well. Bring on the big, thick chocolate malt and this diner delight could not have been better.

Lunch at the City Diner was a tasty trek back to the time of real American music and messy burgers, black and white wall tiles and touches of maroon in a black and gray carpet. It was an escape from cookie cutter menus and eateries found along the freeway from Orange to El Paso. It was the kind of place where Arthur Fonzarelli or Danny Zuko would have hung out with Sandra Dee, Connie Francis and the Texas Travelin’ Man.

Who am I kiddin’? They were way too cool for me!

The City Diner is at 622 North Water Street in downtown Corpus Christi.

The Busy Bee Café sits alongside the railroad tracks in old Pearland. Though the building looks relatively new, a sign over the door reads, “A Texas Tradition Since 1935”.

We found the Busy Bee Café by accident while cruising through Pearland looking for cool “stuff” to write about for this blog, and as is often the case . . . it just “spoke to me”. “Hey buddy . . . yeah, you in the red pickup. Try me out. You’re gonna like it!”

My wife called the surroundings cute. Straight-back wooden chairs at café-style tables beneath an open ceiling, and giant Lone Stars and Texas memorabilia hung on the walls. The hand-dipped Dreyer’s ice cream station at the counter was an unexpected surprise. That’s when the café spoke to her, “Hey lady . . . yes you with the old guy on a mission. Try me out. You’re gonna like it.”

There was an awesome list of Texas-style comfort foods surrounded by local advertising from front to back in the brown paper menu. An ad for Long’s Auto Repair and Wrecker Service was posted above the heading BREAKFAST SERVED ALL DAY, and smaller spots for Studio Five Eighteen Salon and Right Price Movers were paired with the list of  thirteen burgers and sandwiches, and five poor boy combinations … all “served with fries or chips”. I was going to like this place.

The waitress was small town friendly and offered suggestions from the fried catfish and baked potato stuffed with taco meat or barbecue beef, to homemade meatloaf and smothered chicken. But today was one of those days when you have to say to yourself . . . let’s do it.

I ordered the house specialty - chicken fried steak with white gravy. My sides were fried okra and fried green tomatoes, and the most incredible homemade corn casserole that I had ever eaten . . . ever. The top was crispy, it was filled with giant kernels of whole corn, and the flavor . . . it was oh, so tasty. Just like grandma never used to make.

Stuffed with the entrees we only sampled the old-style cornbread and rolls, but did take a couple of containers filled with blackberry cobbler for the road. Hours later they were still amazing.

If the Busy Bee Café has been serving meals like this for more than 70-years, it’s no wonder why it’s been a Texas tradition since 1935. It will no doubt become a tradition for me when traveling through Pearland in the days ahead. It spoke to me.  It said, “You’re gonna like it,” and it was right.

The Busy Bee Café is at 4009 West Broadway in Pearland, Texas 77581. Call ahead at 281-485-8690.

When I was younger I knew that Cadillacs were for old folks. They didn’t come in florescent orange like the Pontiac GTO, purple like a Dodge Challenger, or lime green like a Plymouth Barracuda. They came in black, or beige, or white, occasionally in red, so without a doubt those big land yachts were definitely for old folks.

It was on a trip to the Sterling McCall Cadillac Museum in Warrenton that what I believed to be true as a kid was confirmed . . . Cadillacs are for old folks.  I know because today I am an “old folk” and I can honestly appreciate the style and workmanship put into those American made status symbols dating back to the early 1900s. 

Built of red brick with large-paned windows facing Highway 237, the museum has the look of a car dealership of more than 70-years ago. From the earliest days of the brand to more recent models, some of the most elegant Cadillacs ever made are showcased on the gray “showroom” floor surrounded by floor-to-ceiling graphic wall murals.

“Feel free to look, but please don’t touch,” said the silver-haired woman behind the period desk as she took a $5.00 donation each for admission. She had been watching “Laverne and Shirley” on a small television as we walked in . . . it was the laid back kind of Saturday afternoon in small town Texas that I really like.

We walked among dozens of restored vehicles such as the 1958 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham. Only 304 of the limited edition, hand-built, four 4-door beauties were made and one of them found a home in Warrenton. 

There was a bright blue custom 4-door sedan from 1925 with its wide white-wall tires. This model had allowed for customers to choose from 24 color harmonies and 10 upholstery patterns. Nearby sat a maroon 1936 4-door Town Sedan with its exaggerated front fenders and chrome grill, and pie pan sized headlights. 

The 1941 Cadillac Limo sported the new Hydra-Matic automatic transmission and an “egg crate” grill, with elegance to the point that it begged the question . . . “Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”

Hood ornaments and tail fins stretched from wall-to-wall as music from an earlier time hung in the air. It was a nostalgic drive into memories from my childhood and beyond. It was a realization that the Cadillac was the iconic motor car of generations long before the creation of the muscle cars with their flashy colors and wide racing stripes. 

Given the choice today between a classic T-Bird and a similar vintage Cadillac, I’d still take the Bird. But, that brief visit to a small community outside of Round Top gave me a whole new appreciation for the brand; America’s luxury car. Thanks Mr. McCall. You did good.

The Sterling McCall Cadillac Museum is open weekends from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Call 979-249-5089 or visit sterlingmccallmuseum.org for more information.

Though he looks like an early twentieth century Station Agent, Ken Walden never worked for the railroad.

His well groomed gray beard and wire-rimmed glasses are a reminiscent of a time when the City of Tomball, Texas was a rural community of farmers, prosperous businessmen and employees of the Trinity and Brazos Valley Railroad.

The dark suit with a pin-striped vest, and gold pocket watch are just what I would have expected to see at the station more than 100-years ago as he stepped forward to meet steam locomotives at the platform with loads of freight and passengers.

No, Ken Walden never worked for the railroad, but this life long train enthusiast still knows more about riding the rails than most . . . after all, Ken is the fact-filled historian of the Tomball Depot and museum.

An illustrator by trade, Ken spends every Sunday afternoon in the restored Tomball Depot by the tracks that run from Galveston northward as they have more than a century. He told me that as a volunteer he regularly shares stories with locals and tourists who wander by for a look or maybe to shoot a photo or two by the old caboose nearby.

He tells the tales of how the Depot was the first building constructed in the tiny railroad town of Peck, Texas, and how on December 2, 1907 Peck was renamed Tomball after Thomas Henry Ball, the man responsible for bringing prosperity to town by way of the railroad in the late 1800s.

Ken’s original hand-drawn illustrations of the old depot, a grandfather walking hand-in-hand with his young grandson along the tracks and other railroad-themed art hang throughout the building. 

It was while looking at this art that Ken introduced me to a frequent visitor to the station. His name was Frank, but he's known as Doug or “Thug” depending on what part of the country he was in.  “Frank here is an honest to goodness hobo,” he told me. “He and his wife stop by to say hello when they are passing through.”

Frank smiled and nodded in my direction. His salt and pepper gray bearded face showed the many years of  riding the rails. His hands were rough and scarred from fights and grabbing for moving box cars as they rolled down the line.  His soiled t-shirt  was an obvious souvenir from the road promoting a Gulf Oil gas station in Reno, Nevada . . . “Home of the $4.99 Oil Change!”.

For an hour I listened as Frank told Ken and me tales from the rails. I heard about the hobo camps, life-long friendships and ruthless gangs. The rail yard “Bulls”, or police, that helped the riders and those who would beat them down just for fun. Frank told us about climbing on a train in Magnolia almost 20-years ago and waking up somewhere in New Mexico the next day, then jumping another to wind up in California a day later.

It was a lifestyle that most of us would never image for ourselves, though an occasional thought of leaving it all behind has certainly crossed my mind over the years.

I asked Frank why and he simply said, “I got tired of working all day and giving my money to the government.” Then after a short pause he added, “I can go anywhere that I want for free, and Ive got nobody to stop me.” With that he said goodbye and left the depot for destinations unknown. Ken told me that Frank would be back . . . he always came back when the wanderlust was out of his system.

We continued the depot tour. From the long wooden benches in one of the two original waiting rooms, to the authentic tin ceiling and paint colors both inside and out, the Tomball Depot is as close as can be to those first days more than a century ago. 

Typical period railroad décor is displayed on the two tone green walls of the depot among faded and rusted memorabilia from the golden age of rail travel. On exhibit are two gowns worn by Mrs. Thomas Ball to the Presidential inauguration of William McKinley in 1897, along with old handwritten Western Union messages, train orders and other documents found in the depot’s attic during restoration.

The old Tomball Depot is a treasure as is its caretaker. Ken Walden is passionate about the responsibility that he has accepted. But, the real adventure this day was meeting an honest to goodness hobo named Frank, or Doug, or Thug, who shared his stories of traveling the rails.

Tomball, Texas is 25-miles northwest of downtown Houston at FM 2920 and Highway 249. For more information, please visit http://www.ci.tomball.tx.us/, or call 281-351-5484.

 

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