Only recently has the town of Erwin (technically the location of the hanging) created a fund for circus elephants and another town in Tennessee actually has a habitat available.
That only took about 100 years!
TerryWalstrom
JoinedPosts by TerryWalstrom
-
5
They Hanged Mary (I was going to tell you about it)
by TerryWalstrom inthey hanged mary(i was going to tell you about it).
but then, i got "hung up".first off, to say "they hanged..." sounds awkward to most ears--even though it is entirely correct grammar!that stopped me.
temporarily.then...i decided on a new title:mary was hungoh, jeeze--that certainly gives a completely wrong impression of story content!
-
-
TerryWalstrom
-
5
They Hanged Mary (I was going to tell you about it)
by TerryWalstrom inthey hanged mary(i was going to tell you about it).
but then, i got "hung up".first off, to say "they hanged..." sounds awkward to most ears--even though it is entirely correct grammar!that stopped me.
temporarily.then...i decided on a new title:mary was hungoh, jeeze--that certainly gives a completely wrong impression of story content!
-
-
-
5
They Hanged Mary (I was going to tell you about it)
by TerryWalstrom inthey hanged mary(i was going to tell you about it).
but then, i got "hung up".first off, to say "they hanged..." sounds awkward to most ears--even though it is entirely correct grammar!that stopped me.
temporarily.then...i decided on a new title:mary was hungoh, jeeze--that certainly gives a completely wrong impression of story content!
-
-
TerryWalstrom
THEY HANGED MARY
(I was going to tell you about it)But then, I got "hung up".
First off, to say "They hanged..." sounds awkward to most ears--even though it is entirely correct grammar!
That stopped me. Temporarily.
Then...
I decided on a new title:
MARY WAS HUNG
Oh, Jeeze--that certainly gives a completely WRONG impression of story content! Trust me--can't go there.
_____
Where did this leave me?
A title has to grab the reader.
If I was too clear about it, the story's payoff would be ruined.As a writer, you can't self-doubt or you're dead in the water.
There is a cross-hairs moment when you pull the trigger on the "reveal" and the impact has to knock the reader backward--if not mortally wounded--at least, morally wounded.Who was Mary and why did those vile citizens of Tennesse scream for her hanging?
I dare not reveal. The 'trigger' moment is ruined.
What was the location? That too is simply a tipoff. Readers are way too smart--they get out ahead of you. If they guess where you're going--the ride is over. You've failed.
The fact that dear, sweet, lovable Mary brutally murdered a man--if not explained honestly and plainly--will turn readers against her and sympathy instantly dries up making her agonizing death--as awful as it was--much less empathetic.The story grabbed my heart and a cold chill went down my spine. It was instantaneous. I was sickened. Did I really want to DO THAT by writing it and offering such a negative experience to my friends?
Why?
Why would I want to do that?And there you have it. My hands are tied. Delivering the story of the townsfolk of Kingsport, Tennessee placing a chain around Mary's neck and hauling her up is brutal.
Where is the art in it?
What good can come of it?
_____________________
MARY'S STORY
______________________Mary was not slim, beautiful, or even very graceful but she was beloved. For instance, by children, for her easygoing and genteel nature. Having traveled from Asian against her will, she was always surrounded by men who would not or could not communicate with her other than through enticement or pain.
If she complied, her life was somewhat easier. If she resisted? Well, that had never worked out. Not at all.In her own unique way, she had a kind of fame and renown, like a big fish in a small pond. It wasn't much more than lower run 'show business' if truth be told.
What she did and how she did it was entertaining and delightful. How many of us bring smiles and laughter so easily without degrading ourselves or belittling others?
In Showbiz, you don't have to look perfect. You can be unusual and get away with it. Even so-called freaks of nature could find employment.Hers was a simple life; a life of routine and habit. She enjoyed the company of others and went about her job with dignity and professionalism right up until the day she slowly died.
Let's get this over with, let's face the facts and move on--shall we?
The man's name was Eldridge. He had a shock of red hair and he got the job working with Mary even though he was a hobo and a drifter and no skills. That is unless you call working cheap a skill.
It was after the town's parade had ended everything started to go wrong.
Mary had walked slowly down Main Street that day as crowds cheered, celebrating the arrival of "show people" in town with SPARKS WORLD FAMOUS SHOWS.
She had been with them for years. It was small time but it was show business.
The fresh air and sunshine combined with exercise and a long trek all morning had worked up an appetite. After the parade, Mary settled in for a meal.
That's when Eldridge showed up. Folks called him "Red."
Red didn't care if Mary was enjoying a late breakfast or not. He began screaming orders at her.
Red was just clueless how to treat a lady. The fact he was hired as her boss is a crime in itself. Yet, here he was screaming and cursing at poor Mary. It upset her.
Mary was unable to speak. She was so frightened by Red's outburst and rough handling.
Yes--he was manhandling her now!
So frustrated and ignorant was his rage, he reached for a pointed stick and began threatening Mary.
And that's when it all went mad in the blink of an eye.
That bastard jabbed poor Mary behind her ear and the flash of excruciating pain sent a bolt of electric rage through her body.
She reacted without a moment's thought. It was pure instinct.
A man named W.H. Coleman claimed later to be a witness to the sudden death of Red Eldridge.
He admitted the hobo "boss" had jabbed her and screamed curses. But then, he spared no details of her retaliation either. Red was lying dead on the ground with his skull crushed. Mary had gone mad and stomped him!
A local blacksmith arrived and aimed his pistol at Mary and fired 3 times.
The adrenaline and her size seemed somehow to keep her standing and defiant. She was all worked up and the injustice of her situation kept her on her feet.
And then crowds had arrived and word spread like a grassfire in a drought.
Kingsport was such a tiny, unimportant town with so little excitement--this was chaos and panic beyond all reckoning.
Somebody shouted that there needed to be a hanging.
Nearby, Charlie Sparks, fearing for the reputation of his "World Famous Show" suddenly suggested they use a large crane attached to the railcar just outside on the tracks.
And just like that, in the disastrous bloodlust of small town mentality, so-called "Southern Justice" was at hand!
A chain was placed around Mary's neck and another chain around her ankle. As she was suddenly jerked aloft by the awkward crane mechanism the chain snapped and she plummeted heavily onto her side and her hip broke.
Again she was hoisted in awful agony as her friends and family raised alarm on the other side of the wide-eyed throng of onlookers shouting even louder for her demise.
Reports say 2,500 onlookers and most of that town's children beheld the atrocity as it unfolded to their everlasting shame.
There in the Clinchfield Railroad yard, slowly twisted the body of Mary, as though she were merely nothing more than a fiendish amusement for narrow-minded folks to gawk and gape at.
A fog had rolled in and a steady drizzle set in as Mary's last twitches of life ebbed away.
The chain on her leg had not been removed and the crane's upward lift strained until a loud cracking of Mary's bones suddenly ended the death struggle.
Just like that--the spectacle was over.
The laughter and cheers as Mary's legs had thrashed and trembled now faded into silence--save for the splashing of steady rain as heaven itself wept quietly.
The body of Mary hung still and cold for the better part of an hour before she was finally pronounced officially dead by the local veterinarian.
Yes, this wretched town had hanged an elephant for murder on September 13, 1916.
____________
-
__ -
8
What Kind of Activism?
by TerryWalstrom inactivism or any kind of push back really is not about the size of your emotion, your disgust, or the feeling of powerless frustration at the religion.being an ex-jw is about one of two things and two things only:1. being effective.
2. being ineffectiveto which i add: effective at what?1.
not identifying yourself as the foaming at the mouth, demonic, mentally diseased piece of shit the watchtower has framed you out to be in the minds of their captive slaves.2.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
When I first started out writing articles and posting on Ex-JW sites, I was full of piss and vinegar and wanted to "bring down the Organization" and blah and blah and blah.
I was simply full of lava.
And about as effective as Vesuvius.
Just being loud and proud does not an effective activist make.
Reaching somebody is effective.
Reaching a mind and a heart in a human being trapped in fear is very tough.
You have to start each day saying to yourself, "This really isn't about me."And yet, so much of what I was writing and arguing really was all about my anger.
The crunch of knuckles is not a prayer of healing :) -
My (true) HORROR story!
by TerryWalstrom inlocation: bathtubtime: end of the daycategory: horror!________it is a hot, relaxing soak in the tub end of day ritual.it's my "calgon, take me away" moment when i pull myself together.. i'm not a shower kind of guy.. my few remaining muscles require vast unwinding time.the crown of me head and the soles of me feet crave heat, matey!i'm one long, tall, goes-on- forever kind of soaker.. i don't really fit inside a bathtub.
at six feet four inches, i must bend, twist, curl, and adjust for maximum soakage.. there is a reason i'm telling you these details: to maximize the horror of my horror story.
correction: my true horror story._____a naked, relaxed, contorted, vulnerable, unsuspecting fully grown manly man confronted with a sudden terrifying event--for your information and enlightenment--has 3 quick choices available.1.
-
TerryWalstrom
LOCATION: Bathtub
TIME: End of the day
CATEGORY: Horror!
________
It is a hot, relaxing soak in the tub end of day ritual.
It's my "Calgon, take me away" moment when I pull myself together.I'M NOT a shower kind of guy.
My few remaining muscles require vast unwinding time.
The crown of me head and the soles of me feet crave heat, Matey!
I'm one long, tall, goes-on- forever kind of soaker.I don't really fit inside a bathtub.
At six feet four inches, I must bend, twist, curl, and adjust for maximum soakage.There is a reason I'm telling you these details:
to maximize the horror of my horror story.
Correction:
my true horror story.
_____
A naked, relaxed, contorted, vulnerable, unsuspecting fully grown manly man confronted with a sudden terrifying event--for your information and enlightenment--has 3 quick choices available.
1. Notice something is wrong
2. Fixate on the nature and magnitude of the threat
3. Scream like a little girly man, splashing, thrashing, frantically struggling to escape the watery cage of doom.
____
Yes, I did poke my big toe in the faucet.
Why?
Why the hell not?
Yes, I did feel a slight tickling sensation. So what?
Sure, I popped my toe back out allowing a three-inch long cockroach to scramble out of the faucet INTO MY BATHWATER.
Are you getting the picture clear enough, friend?
______
As stated, I was settled into a twisty, relaxed jumble of arms, legs, and angles inside that bathtub. I was trapped with an F-ing monster cockroach; its hundreds of twitchy, odious legs SWIMMING TOWARD MY PRIVATE PARTS!My panicked efforts to escape created a chaos of waves, currents, torrents--ALL OF the WHICH--launched that filthy creature TOWARD ME rather than away!
_____
Imagine a python inside a mayonnaise jar trying to bolt from its captivity and you've got a clear idea of my plight.
____
My horrifying screams must have been heard in Waco.
Marion Crane, I feel your pain.
_____
EPILOGUE
I am NOW a shower-kind-of-guy.
Escape time is vastly reduced! -
8
What Kind of Activism?
by TerryWalstrom inactivism or any kind of push back really is not about the size of your emotion, your disgust, or the feeling of powerless frustration at the religion.being an ex-jw is about one of two things and two things only:1. being effective.
2. being ineffectiveto which i add: effective at what?1.
not identifying yourself as the foaming at the mouth, demonic, mentally diseased piece of shit the watchtower has framed you out to be in the minds of their captive slaves.2.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
Activism or any kind of push back really is NOT about the size of your emotion, your disgust, or the feeling of powerless frustration at the religion.
Being an EX-JW is about one of two things and two things only:
1. BEING EFFECTIVEor
2. BEING INEFFECTIVE
To which I add: effective at what?
1. Not identifying yourself as the foaming at the mouth, demonic, mentally diseased piece of shit the Watchtower has framed you out to be in the minds of their captive slaves.
2. Reaching the hearts and minds of depressed, anxious, fearful people under a spell of mistaken belief.
BEING EFFECTIVE is about the message and not the messenger.
Watchtower anti-apostate propaganda focuses AD HOMINEM because such propaganda makes the Ex-Dub appear threatening and misguided.
WHY play into the GB's schemes?
We are not the legion of doom, we are not vigilantes or insurgent agents of chaos come to visit grief and terror.
We are Good Samaritans stopping to help an abused victim.
Yes.
The people still inside the Kingdom Hall are the victims.
By focusing on our own pain, mistreatment, and mishandling we make OURSELVES the victims which--as accurate as that is--MEANS NOTHING to those trapped inside a place they've been programmed to see as an ark of refuge at the start of a Great Tribulation.
To be EFFECTIVE, we must become the ambulance, the doctors, and nurses, the volunteers inside a disaster area INSIDE the Kingdom Halls.
We need to be people victims run TOWARD rather than AWAY from once they see their own condition plainly.
We are a source of believable information or we are nothing but another pain in their ass.
We have to be more LIGHT than DARKNESS.
Bottom line: if you are an activist you strive for EFFECTIVENESS in getting trapped people out of a burning building.
An activist's job is to help those inside the religion to SMELL the SMOKE and head for the nearest exit. -
3
String Theories, God Particles, and Mayonnaise
by TerryWalstrom instring theories, god particles, and mayonnaise_______every morning they meet.
same table.
same conversations.. 3 old coots recycle stale ideas, rehash moth-eaten memories, and wear down my patience.. i could have moved to another table.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
What strikes me funny about these old fellas is that NONE of them is actually witty or funny, but it seems to happen inadvertently!
It's a case of Grandpa accidentally making you laugh.
The Boomy Voice guy talks way too much about God all the time and says really, way out and ridiculous things. It's hard to just sit and listen.
The Crushed Windpipe fella is almost never on topic. I get the feeling he's not listening most of the time; just waiting his turn.
The 3rd guy always speaks as though he's certain of whatever he's saying.
I never hear them argue. They just disagree or agree by accident. -
3
String Theories, God Particles, and Mayonnaise
by TerryWalstrom instring theories, god particles, and mayonnaise_______every morning they meet.
same table.
same conversations.. 3 old coots recycle stale ideas, rehash moth-eaten memories, and wear down my patience.. i could have moved to another table.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
String Theories, God Particles, and Mayonnaise
_______
Every morning they meet.
Same table.
Same conversations.3 Old Coots recycle stale ideas, rehash moth-eaten memories, and wear down my patience.
I could have moved to another table. There was no clean alternative.
I could order To Go.
Didn't wanna.
I tried tuning them out.
Ain't gonna happen.I sit with my back to them. I hear everything all too clearly.
_____I'll describe white hair, glasses, drab clothes, blah blah, and blah.
Only voices distinctly differ.1st guy sounds like a crushed windpipe.
CW.
The 2nd guy has a boomy voice.
BV.
The 3rd guy snuffles and his voice is nasal.
SN .
________
BV: "Women don't carry purses anymore."
CW: "How would you know?"
SN: "The don't wear underwear either--just thongs."
BV: "We call em' flip-flops in Waco.
CW: "You mean boobs?"
______
BV: "I'm getting up for a refill, you need anything?"
CW: "Oh, don't make any fuss about me."
SN: "I'll take a fried pie and a butt wipe."
BV: "You being funny?"
CW: "Don't chance it. Get him one."
__________
SN: "I'm itching to get my new outboard."
CW: "That's hemorrhoids."
SN: "It's Evinrude."
CW: "No I ain't--I'm just making an observation."
___________
In the course of 15 minutes of listening all this nonsense, I feel my I.Q. draining away.
As I get up to leave, CW croaks at me and points.
CW: "What do you think about all this?"
6 pairs of eyes fix on me.
Me: "We live in an age of String Theory, God Particles, and Mayonnaise (pause for effect)...
I still prefer mustard."I leave quickly. I figure that will give them another half an hour's worth of conversation.
____________
_________ -
6
COWTOWN AIN'T (In which I tell you all about my home town, Fort Worth, Texas)
by TerryWalstrom incowtown ain’t.
in which i tell you about my hometown, ft. worth, texas.
question: “what do you call mexican food down in guadalajara?”.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
Thanks for all the comments!
I'm afraid my family was on the poor side of town at 709 E. Baltimore St.
I didn't know we were "poor" when I was a kid because I was the grandchild and grew up with my grandparents who spoiled me rotten. (Yes, rotten.)
The first job I had after marriage (I had just gotten out of Seagoville Prison) was working for a wealthy JW who owned a Mobile Home Manufacturing business in Arlington (Hensley Mobile Homes). I made a whopping $2.25 per hour.
When Hensley shut down the plant for winter, I was offered another mobile home job on Pipeline Road near Bell Helicopter. I worked for two other JW brothers who also owned a janitorial service. That was "POPULAR" JW profession!
It was about that time I realized I would be living in poverty the rest of my natural JW life if I didn't move away and try to make something of myself using whatever natural talent for Art I possessed.
Being a janitor isn't shameful, of course. But if you can do other things to better yourself and you have a family to support---why wouldn't you try?
After 10 years in the Art Business in California, I moved back to Ft. Worth and have lived here ever since.
The family home my great-great grandfather built with his own two hands is in what has become a slum neighborhood and all the fine trees he planted have been cut down. It breaks my heart.
We never had much or owned anything of value--but my memories of growing up in Ft. Worth are (when adjusted to remove the bad times) quite wonderful.
I'm sure we could all find some place in our heart for a city or a house or a neighborhood we knew as a child which lingers in memory ever green.
___________
Almost all my Jehovah's Witness experiences took place in Texas. The awful part was on the other side of Dallas in Seagoville Federal Correctional Institution, of course. But--ya know...I loved the guys I was in prison with. I've lost all of them to time, to death, and to religious shunning. That still stings.
Whenever I see the old "friends" from the Kingdom Hall (usually at funerals) they look so beaten down, unhealthy, and depressed. I may be projecting partly--but I'm sure I don't see much of a glint in any old-timer's eyes anymore.
When my best friend, Johnny, died last year all those memories came forward and haunted me. I'm just so thankful I left when I did or I'd end up dying in a worthless fantasy death cult waiting on the bus to Paradise to arrive at the bus stop.
We all can be very grateful. -
6
COWTOWN AIN'T (In which I tell you all about my home town, Fort Worth, Texas)
by TerryWalstrom incowtown ain’t.
in which i tell you about my hometown, ft. worth, texas.
question: “what do you call mexican food down in guadalajara?”.
-
-
TerryWalstrom
COWTOWN AIN’TIn which I tell you about my hometown, Ft. Worth, Texas_______________Question: “What do you call Mexican food down in Guadalajara?”Answer: “Food.”Once upon a time, there were indigenous people living in the Southern part of a continent not yet called America in what wasn’t yet a State not called Texas.“Not-Yet-Texas” had about a hundred tribes of indigenous families.These various tribes referred to themselves as ‘people’ or ‘human beings.’Many of these tribes of “human beings” didn’t get along too well with the other “people” and I know you know what I mean, so don’t be acting confused.Much later, invaders from other lands would arrive mistakenly convinced they’d arrived in India.Naturally, they called the indigenous inhabitants “Indians.”Our indigenous tribes shrugged at their ignorance.
There was competition for survival among these tribes following migrating herds of “buffalo” which weren’t really buffalo but were actually bison!This is admittedly a lot of ain't!Ain’t TexasAin’t IndiansAin’t buffalo.The ‘ain’t Indians regarded the invaders as ‘white men.’ These interlopers weren’t all “white” nor were they all men. They were Spanish, Italian, French, and English predominantly.They were stubborn.After all, by now, they might have figured out they were NOT IN INDIA!!____Apaches dominated West Texas and their natural enemies were Comanches. It seemed prudent to these Apache warriors and braves to side with Federal troops in wiping out Comanches and somehow convincing themselves their new allies wouldn’t turn against them in the end. I think we know how that turned out!If you’ve watched any Western movies you’re way ahead of me on the plot right now.Let’s fast forward to a Fort called Worth and my hometown, shall we?_________To understand Fort Worth you need to be introduced to its namesake, William Worth, a General in the U.S. Army in the 1840’s.Worth joined the Army when the War of 1812 erupted. He was only 18 years-old.What’s odd about this?Worth was reared by deeply religious parents who were Quakers! One suspects an 18-year-old Quaker boy was extremely anxious to get away from a fanatical religious community even if it meant physical danger!Quakers were rigorous Pacifists. However...Great Britain had long been interfering with trade on the high seas, kidnapping Americans and impressing them into forced servitude, as well as bribing the ain’t-Indians to attack settlers.President Madison requested Congress declare war in 1812 and the young Quaker jumped at a chance to demonstrate what a tough apostate Quaker could do to put the kibosh on ‘bad guys.’In his first battle against the Chippewa (ain’t-Indians), Worth was almost fatally wounded and ended up being award the rank of Major for his bravery (if not effectiveness.)In the next ten years, he fought against the Seminoles and rose in rank again to General after fighting in every major battle between the U.S. and Mexico.Unfortunately, he died of cholera in 1849. (Drinking bad water.)Do you suppose William Worth is buried in the city named after him? You’d be wrong. He was buried in Brooklyn, New York. (Don’t ask!)What is important is that General Worth was considered a great military tactician. He proposed that a series of 10 protective forts be constructed in the newly won Mexican territory (ain’t-Texas) and one of those forts was named in his honor.Why?A young Major who hero-worshipped Worth had been dispatched to find an ideal spot for one of these forts. His name was Ripley Arnold. Arnold established a post on the banks of the Trinity and named it Camp Worth in honor of the late General Worth.In August 1849, Arnold moved the camp to a north-facing bluff that overlooked the mouth of the Clear Fork. The US War Department officially granted the name "Fort Worth" to the post on 14 November 1849.The trouble with ain’t-Indians continued until the U.S. Army abandoned Fort Worth in 1853 at which point it becomes an ain’t-Fort.(Note: armies and settlers from Spain called the area belonging to them, “Tejas”.)Why?The indigenous people, Caddo, welcomed them as friends and “Tejas” means “allies.”In the course of time, before Texas became a sovereign nation in 1836, Texian or Texican referred to any resident, of any color or language______What is now called Texas existed under 6 different flags in the course of its history."Six countries have had sovereignty over some or all of the current territory of the U.S. state of Texas:1, Spain (1519–1685; 1690–1821),2. France (1685–1690),3. Mexico (1821–1836),4. Republic of Texas (1836–1845),5. Confederate States of America (1861–1865),6. The United States of America______Here’s the part you need to understand…The early settlers in the area around Fort Worth were rugged individualists. They flourished and built stores, schools, hospitals, department stores and all the trappings of what would become a city.I’ve lived in Fort Worth since 1947 and I recognize the names of these founding fathers on buildings, street signs, parks and businesses as their legacy as indomitable folk who stuck with their dreams when even the U.S. Army gave up and moved on.I like that Ft. Worth is named after an Apostate! I’m one too, after all.________“So, Terry, is that the whole story? You didn’t explain the Cowtown Ain’t title of this tale.”Yes, you’re right.Hang in and hang on and you’ll be repaid for your patience, gentle reader!__________The city of Fort Worth is inside the greater County of Tarrant.By the time the Civil War broke out in 1860, Tarrant County had 850 slaves to account for and roughly 6,000 whites (who probably were white.) The County flourished with free labor at its core and soon voted to abandon its fealty to other States in America by seceding from the Union.Was this a prudent business decision, a good Christian decision, a patriotic decision, or just a case of CYA? (Cover yer ass.)History tells the tale.Judgment is rendered in the results of that decision by the founding fathers of Fort Worth and Tarrant County.At the end of the Civil War, Fort Worth was down to a population of 175 persons. If that doesn’t teach you a lesson--you’re never going to learn one.How did Fort Worth revive its economy?Glad you asked!The answer in one word is cattle.Fort Worth became COWTOWN.Longhorns stolen and purchased from Mexico were driven up through the middle of Texas toward the well-watered triple branched TRINITY River complex and...Cowtown (Fort Worth.)Here’s a fast fact for you.Texas is mostly prairie, grassland, hills and desert, forests, and only ONE natural lake: Caddo.Texas is FLAT and DRY except for its rivers.If you’re driving cattle, you’re compelled to follow the grass and the rivers. If you do that, you end up in Fort Worth: Cowtown.Between 1866 and 1890, 4 million head of cattle passed through Cowtown (Fort Worth.)Once railroads became established in 1876, the idea of a treacherous land journey through hostile territories was abandoned.Cowboys spent their money and moved on.When did COWTOWN become AIN’T COWTOWN?A wealthy Boston capitalist, Greenleaf Simpson, was seduced into investing in local stockyards by some fast talk and sweet promises of wealth to come. In 1893, Simpson offered $133 thousand dollars for the local stockyards and he, in turn, lured other Northern capitalists to join him in the meat packing business. By the year 1900, both Armour and Swift had opened regional processing plants in the area.The flow of cattle, stock exchanges, slaughterhouses, meat processing industries made Fort Worth the “Wall Street of the West.”Feeders and Breeders convened regularly at the newly constructed Cowtown Coliseum and an annual Fat Stock Show and Rodeo commenced its tradition.1923 arrived as $30 million dollars flowed through the local economy.By WWII, over 5 million cattle were processed and rendered until the boom turned after the war into a bust.The rise of Interstate highways and the trucking industry replaced transportation of goods by the railroads and the cattle markets shrunk into smaller and smaller venues.By the 1980’s, the 5 million cattle which had once invigorated Fort Worth had shriveled into a pathetic 57 thousand annually.Luckily, a new industry had soon replaced the old one.This new industry didn’t have to be fed, watered or driven through prairies or slaughtered and packed for shipment.The discovery of OIL brought a new source of revenue replacing the cattle industry.I know I don’t need to explain the oil industry to you.Wildcat drilling using venture capital either produced active wells or they completely failed.The trick was finding investors to give you money.(Historical note: George Bush the younger had a real knack for accepting millions of dollars from his father’s friends and political acquaintances to “invest” in wildcat wells. None of the wells paid off and young Bush kept the leftover slush fund!)______________Fort Worth has many nicknames such as “Where the West Begins”, “Panther City”, and “Cowtown.”Having lived here for 70 years, I can tell you the identity of this city is pretty much a fantasy clinging to a faded past of romantic cowboys and ‘Indians’ and cattle drives, saloons, and a Hell’s Half Acre.We are actually a metropolitan area of less than a million people, 99% of whom have absolutely nothing to do with COWS!Fort Worth largely exists because of the largesse of billionaires such as Richard Rainwater and the four Bass brothers.Forbes magazine published this on March 21, 2016:“The four billionaire Bass brothers--Sid, Edward, Robert, and Lee--inherited a small fortune from their oil-tycoon uncle four decades ago and have built it up to a combined $8.2 billion.“If you are a billionaire and you wish to be a large fish in a small pool, Fort Worth is an excellent way to gain notice and attract others who will fuel your fiefdom with talent and funds as well.For example, Richard Rainwater was a stockbroker hired by Sid Bass who started his own investment firm locally and with his guidance, the Bass brothers became private equity and hedge fund titans.As a matter of record, in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, 20 billionaires have made their home, if--for no other reason--Texas is only 1 of 2 states in America which does NOT have a State income tax! Dallas and Fort Worth are about as far north and west as you can go and still have the best of two worlds: rural and homespun as well as modern and cosmopolitan.(Yes, I have met some--not all--of these philanthropists and Titans and found them to be down-to-earth and ‘just folks’ for the most part.)_____________ConclusionWithout sounding like a Chamber of Commerce shill, I’ll simply suggest you check out on Google the “Things to do” list in Fort Worth.We have a remarkable Library system with amazing donors affiliated with free concerts and programs of the highest quality. The Van Cliburn Competition locally brings superb artistic genius into our city as a source of much pride and celebration.Bass Hall is a latter day Opera House with perfect acoustics and lavish architecture as a venue for musicals, concerts, ballet, and mixed events at the highest level of performance.And so on. I won’t bore you. Check it out for yourself.Getting back to my title, COWTOWN AIN’T was written because I think we really need to let go of the shabby western mythos of the 1840’s and concentrate on our emergence in Fort Worth as a modern, contemporary paradise with the best a large ‘small town’ has to offer.The past has passed.Let go. Move forward.My great grandmother’s husband was Jim Rushing, a sheriff (or possibly sheriff’s deputy) here in Fort Worth who was shot in the back by a gambler long ago.She never quite got over it and told me tales of that time period with tears in her eyes. I learned to think of our fair city as something not lost in the past, but as a survivor of hard times and bad men and rotten situations brought on by happenstance, bad luck, and wrong-headed decisions.But we survived, shook off the old ways, and moved ahead to join the real world.The moral of the story and the point of this article is as follows:We Ain’t Cowtown--we’re a Now town!
