Lizards on the Mantel, Burros at the Door: A Big Bend Memoir 9780292745971

Citation preview

Lizards on the Mantel, Burros at the Door

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 1

7/4/2012 9:24:53 PM

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 2

7/4/2012 9:24:53 PM

Lizards on the Mantel, Burros at the Door Din

BEDD

titnom

Etta Koch with June Cooper Price Photographs by Etta and Peter Koch and Others

University of Texas Press, Austin

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 3

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

"Have Some Beans?" appeared in a slightly different version in the Alpine Avalanche, February 22, 1996, p. A13. "Kaufman's Draw" was published in part in the Alpine Avalanche, April 22, 1976. Except where stated otherwise, illustrations are from the collection of Etta Koch. Copyright © 1999 by Etta Koch and June Cooper Price All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Third paperback printing, 2009 Requests for permission to reproduce material from this work should be sent to: Permissions University of Texas Press P.O. Box 7819 Austin, TX 78713-7819 www. utexas.edu/utpress/about/bpermission.html (9°) The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (R1997) (Permanence of Paper). Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Koch, Etta, 1904-2004 Lizards on the mantel, burros at the door : a Big Bend memoir / Etta Koch with June Cooper Price ; photographs by Peter and Etta Koch and others. — 1st ed. p. cm. ISBN 978-0-292-74339-7 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Big Bend National Park (Tex.) — Description and travel. 2. Big Bend National Park (Tex.) — Biography. 3. Frontier and pioneer life—Texas —Big Bend National Park. 4. Koch, Etta, 1904-2004. 5. Koch family. I. Price, June Cooper, 1933-2008. II. Title. F392.B53K63 1999 976.4'932~dc21 98-47018

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 4

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

To My Family past, present, and future

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 5

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

fiulf ofAex/co

Big Bend National Park (circa 1945-1950)

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 6

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

Contents

;

2 3 4 5 6

7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 7

Foreword Acknowledgments Introduction Photo section 1 follows page Photo section 2 follows page Where Is Everybody? The Long Road to Texas Under the Pinon Pines Exploring the Basin Terlingua Dignitaries Pets Polecats and Horses Boquillas Of Mountains and Basins The Broken Blossom Mama Has a Birthday The Winter of Change Reflections on the Rio Grande The Spa Into the Limestone Lodge Maggy Menagerie The Mail Comes on Monday First, Go Fill the Water Bucket A Lizard, Mice, and Other Winter Visitors Mexican Wedding

ix xi 1 40 75 5 9 16 21 29 35 38 41 44 49 53 55 60 66 71 76 86 91 100 107 109 114

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL . . . v ii i

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

The Steps That Led to Spanish Have Some Beans? Rocks of the Ages Water Tales A Christmas to Forget Flight Second Summer On Top of Mt. Bailey Kaufman's Draw Epilogue

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 8

119 122 124 126 130 136 143 152 155 169

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

J*1L ETTA LINDEMAN GREW UP with the twentie s eth century. She was born in 1904 in Dayton, Ohio, and spent her childhood in a comfortable middle-class home. She was an energetic and creative child with many talents. She began writing while in elementary school. Her fictional character, Dorothy Perkins, was named for her favorite rose bush. "Dorothy" traveled the world in search of adventure, perhaps a prelude to Etta's own future. Etta was also an accomplished pianist and singer. As a teenager and young adult she continued her studies in piano and enjoyed tap and ballet classes as well as classes in creative writing in the evenings after work at her daytime job a& a secretary. In the years 1929 to 1931, with the help of a co-worker, she wrote and directed several full-length musical productions for her employer, the Cincinnati Gas and Electric Company. In the evenings she made all the costumes from her own designs. These productions were performed, as fund-raisers, at Emery Auditorium in downtown Cincinnati. She, her sister Emma, and several others also performed semiprofessionally for numerous organizations at functions throughout the city. She became ill in her early twenties and it was feared she had tuberculosis, though tests proved negative. She was, however, diagnosed with chronic asthma and her high-energy life-style came to an end. About this time she went with friends to an outdoor nature club meeting where she met Peter Koch, a photographer for the Cincinnati Times Star. They were married in 1932. Several years later they moved to the suburbs to raise

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 9

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL . . . X

their family. It was here, in 1944, that they first planned their trip to the West, where they hoped Etta would regain her health and strength in the dry climate of the desert. After years as a newspaper photographer, Pete looked forward to the move. He planned to devote himself full-time to producing wildlife films. At that time lecturers presented silent, feature-length, 16 mm, full-color motion pictures with personal narration, a precursor to the nature programs that can be seen on television today. These films were booked through an agent into lecture halls, universities, and natural history museums across the nation. In the fall of 1944 Etta and Pete sold their house, furnishings, and the beloved grand piano, and moved their three young daughters into the twenty-three-foot trailer house that they named "Porky, the Road Hog." Their travels would take them to the Smoky Mountains and the bayous of Louisiana for Pete's filming before they turned toward their destination in Arizona. It was with a mixture of hope and regret that Etta, now forty, said good-by to her relatives and the green hills of Cincinnati to begin a new life in the West.

^

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 10

JjtoAi*'

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

FIRST, AND MOST IMPORTANT, I am so grateful to my mother, Etta Koch, for having kept detailed diaries, typed reams of long long letters to her relatives, photographed our family life, and altered her life-style so that, in spite of her doubts, our family could have the experience that was pioneer Big Bend National Park. It is also important to mention that without Mother's outline and first draft: this manuscript would still be a pile of letters at the bottom of her trunk. I want to thank my two sisters. Betsy was often called upon to recall details of our childhood in Big Bend, and she assisted me with early expansions of the manuscript. Patty took time from her own pursuits to patiently retype fading carbon copies of Mother's letters on her new word processor, thereby simplifying my job. To the author Bill Wright I am grateful for his encouragement to a stranger to "get it in the mail," and for seeing to it that we did. An abundance of help came from Shannon Davies, who was our sponsoring editor at U. T. Press, and from her readers. They helped immensely in improving the continuity and clarity of each new revision. There are others—particularly Mandy Woods at U. T. Press and Charles Purrenhage, a free-lance manuscript editor, both of whom showed unlimited patience with a novice in the art of book publishing. There was always a warm welcome from Melleta Bell and her assistants Gaylan Corbin and Troy Solis at the Sul Ross Archives of the Big Bend. They guided me to the references in their vast collection that would be most useful. I must

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 11

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL . . . xii

also express the family's appreciation for their care of, and interest in, the photographs in the Peter Koch Collection now residing in the Archives of the Big Bend. Ross Maxwell's Big Bend Country (published by the Big Bend Natural History Association, Big Bend National Park, Texas, in 1985) was a reference to which I often turned to refresh my memory concerning the time line of the first years of the park, since many of Mother's letters were undated. I also relied on Mirages, Mysteries and Reality: Brewster County, Texas, by Dr. Clifford Casey (published by Pioneer Book Publishers, Seagraves, Texas, 1972; 2nd printing 1974). In addition, the oral history transcription of Lovie Langford Whitaker's interview, found in the Archives of the Big Bend at Sul Ross University, was an interesting and useful resource. Dr. Barton H. Warnock's Wildflowers of the Big Bend (published by Sul Ross University in 1970) resolved the spelling alternatives of the local plant species mentioned. Interestingly, Maggy's (or Maggie's) name has been spelled both ways by those who have written about her. However, those who knew her best in the early days tend to spell it with the y ending. That also seemed to be the spelling chosen by the park service when signs and brochures were made available for visitors. So that, in the end, was the spelling Mother and I decided would be best. Thanks also to my children, Tim, Lori, Brian, and Lindy, for their enthusiastic interest in the Big Bend National Park as it is today, and for their pride in the knowledge that it is an integral part of the Koch and Cooper family history. Accolades to my husband, Marcus Price, whose computer expertise kept our ancient Macintosh up and running. Just as noteworthy is his undying patience with my lapses of attention as I was drawn into this three-year obsession with my childhood.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 12

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

Acknowledgments

Lastly, my appreciation goes out to all who were part of the first community of Big Benders. They are the ones who made the struggle of pioneering so memorable for the entire Koch family. June Cooper Price

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 13

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

This page intentionally left blank.

The hills we climbed, the river seen By gleams along its deep ravine— All keep thy memoryfreshand green. John Greenleaf Whittier, "Benedicite"

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 15

7/4/2012 9:24:54 PM

Di^ Dend national ParK in 1940

To Marathon

Lajitas

San Vicente/

Chihuahua, Mexico

• Boquillas del Carmen 2 Hot Springs Del Carmen San Vicente Mountains

(oahuila, Mexico

Key to Central Urea 1. Pulliam Mountain 2. Bailey Mountain 3. First Park Service Headquarters and Campground 4. Basin 5. The Window 6. Ward Mountain 7. Emory Peak 8. Casa Grande 9. Lost Mine Trail 10. Park Service Mailbox

Adapted from A Guide to Big Bend: What to See and Do in Big Bend National

Park, by Helen Maxwell and Peter Koch, 1949.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 16

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

Big Bend ON A RECENT TRIP THERE, I visited Hot Springs and saw that the National Park Service is seeking to keep alive the physical evidence of the old trading post on the Rio Grande. Memories of the winter the children and I spent there stirred. In a nostalgic mood, my thoughts turned to what was probably the heyday of that place . . . from 1944 to 1953 when the park service no longer permitted a concessioner to operate there.

Maggy I recalled her echoing laughter . . . and the laughter of those she regaled with her inimitable stories of the natives and visitors who made her everyday life as manager fullflavored. But the echoes that reached me in this nostalgic moment with greater poignancy were those of childish voices, little-girl voices of June, twelve; Betsy, eight; and Patty, two. Their young voices echoed from the hills and the bluffs, the river and the creek, but more especially from the house on the hill . . . the house we called our own for a little time, fifty years ago. From the parking lot, I climbed the hill—still as hot as I remember it then. The house was in great disrepair. Changes time had made saddened me, for our former home was merely a shell. The roof was gone; the fireplace that once charmed and warmed us had been ravaged, its fossil sea animals gouged out by vandals, leaving the stone facade pitted and stricken. With the roof missing, the ceil-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 17

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

L I Z A R D S ON T H E M A N T E L 2

...

ing that was once a patchwork of cardboard and cartons had vanished. On the front wall, though—and I could not believe it!— there still remained our painting of Casa Grande and a huge prickly pear, in giant proportions, that Pete and I thought would lend a splash of color to an otherwise anemic wall. On the kitchen wall my painting of a Mexican boy kneeling beside his burro could still be seen. The saguaro (suh-wah-ro) cactus beside them was a futile effort to disguise the cracks and patches of disintegrating plaster. Both were now faded and sun-bleached and will not survive much longer. I turned for a last glance through the window at the desert and mountains and sky. At least they remain unchanged, for now, by mindless vandalism. I walked down to the store. With its newly restored exterior it appears far more dressy than I remember it in 1945. Then, its wooden doors were faded beneath a peeling "HOT SPRINGS POST OFFICE" sign. Inside, now, was emptiness. Gone were the counters, the old wicker divan, the useless but decorative pink-and-blue spool curtains that hung at the windows. Gone were the glass cases of candies and gum. The old range and the gas refrigerator. The curtainedoff area that was Maggy's private corner and the screened porch along the side were no longer there. Even the floor was gone. The murals Maggy urged me to paint for her "to cover them bar' walls" were "restored" by others with garish paint into scenes of a different style, no resemblance to the dull blues and reds of my "Madonna of the Desert" kneeling to bathe her babe in the creek waters. Standing at the wire barrier, I looked into the store's emptiness, and realized what I missed most. People! Not the strangers now wandering along the trails looking about curiously, but the Mexicans astride their dusty burros; the "wetbacks" who risked tangling with the law when they crossed

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 18

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

Introduction

the Rio Grande to trade, and who dove for bushes at the sound of any approaching car. Visitors stand but a moment beside the historical plaque, peering into the gloom and unable to imagine the events that took place along the border. But Tornillo (Tor-nee-oh) Creek still meanders past the flagstone cliffs, the muddy Rio Grande flows beside the mineral springs. Mesquite thrives along the narrow one-way road still winding crazily along the draw. Native people ride to other trading posts. Whiptail lizards spend hours tiptoeing in the hot desert sand and perhaps even climb a rock at sunset to enjoy the glowing distant mountains of Mexico.

The Basin Later we drove to the Chisos (Chee-sos) Basin for dinner. The switchback road still curved the same as it descended, but the first park headquarters had become a fancy campground and the dear friends I had grown to know so well, now gone. The Maxwells, Harry Linder, the Shollys, and others of those first two years. The pifion pine that marked our trailer site had died long ago and a prickly pear had taken over that favored spot. Special boulders that the children loved to sit upon were now the vantage point of other little girls and boys. The flat where we had searched for flint flakes and arrowheads after every rain was now an asphalt parking lot serving visitors at the concessions area. The stone cottages were down the road a way, their porches the perfect place to watch a Big Bend sunset. Lone Peak pointed to the sky, and Casa Grande blushed in the late afternoon light. In the modern dining room countless tourists sat in air-conditioned comfort and wondered if they'd see a deer before they left. As I sat there looking at the mountains, weathered in still familiar shapes of monks and laughing Irishmen, I realized

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 19

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL

that I must record life as we had experienced it, in the park's early years, or a portion of park history would be lost to legend. There is no fiction in what follows . . . no strain on the imagination . . . merely an attempt to report—from my notes, memories, and letters home —the adventure that was Big Bend National Park when we arrived in 1945. Etta Koch, 1995

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 20

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

One

Mere Is Everybody? FEBRUARY 22, 1945. I couldn't believe the road was a highway to anywhere, and I argued with Pete that we had missed the road and were on an abandoned path to some deserted ranch. It certainly did not resemble any road I had ever seen near our hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio. Even in the Smoky Mountains, or in the bayous of Louisiana, where we had just been traveling, there were no roads as rough as this. "No, the sign along the road clearly states that it is Highway 227, and it must be right." But I hadn't noticed the sign in Marathon and refused to consider this bumpy trail a "highway." Patty, eighteen months old, settled down for a nap, and the older children and I scanned the horizon for a glimpse of cowboys. The miles passed and we saw no one. The girls suggested that Daddy point some out to us. So for miles we strained our eyes for a glimpse of a moving object— any moving object—on that wide, bleak February morning. There must be at least one cowboy in Brewster County. Where was everybody? "There!" said Pete suddenly. "There's a cowboy!" Amazingly the car did not roll over as the children and I leaned toward the windows to the right of us, shouting "Whe-e-ere?" "Out there . . . on that horse!" He flung a hand indicating the entire southern horizon. We finally made out a figure on a horse some distance from the roadway. "Daddy, that's not a cowboy," sighed June with the wisdom of a twelve-year-old. "He isn't wearing blue jeans!"

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 21

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL

"And no chaps, either!" added eight-year-old Betsy. By this time the man and horse had blurred again into the scrub, and we settled back to discuss the vision we had just seen. I thought he'd look like cowboys such as I had seen in Western movies. A man wearing furry chaps, a wide sombrero, a bandana round his neck, and a guitar on his knees. Such was my knowledge of the workaday cowboy. I'd have to change my Yankee impression of Texans, gleaned from movies that in those days would never have included a slumping figure on a nondescript horse. My gaze wandered across the vast expanse of mountains and deserts. There were no words to describe it. I was intimidated by the space but I acknowledged that the desert did strike a response, whether repulsion or ecstacy I had not yet sorted out. I couldn't remember ever being out of reach of telephone, neighbor, or a horizon of skyscrapers in my lifetime. Living so far from communication without a doctor, or even a drugstore, worried me more than a little. It is true that you can't take the city out of a girl too quickly. We were amused whenever we crossed a dry arroyo where huge signs held the warning: "DO NOT CROSS WHEN WATER IS HIGH," complete with a gauge marked to show water depths at one-foot intervals. More than once we stopped before entering a dip in the road to move large rocks out of our path which should have proved to us that the warning was real. The road was so rough, so rutted that we were bouncing along at only twenty miles per hour. Our twenty-three-foot house trailer, dubbed "Porky, the Road Hog," was lurching badly behind us. We'd ridden thirty miles or so when Pete concluded we'd better gas up at Cooper's store, since the brochure said it was the only gas pump on the eighty-mile drive. I was on my usual bed of needles and pins for fear

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 22

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

Where

Is

Everybody?

we'd run out of gas before reaching their store near Persimmon Gap. My alarm really picked up momentum as we drew up to the store, to find it closed! "Of course," Pete remembered soberly, "This is a holiday . . . I forgot it's Washington's Birthday!" I was so relieved when he found we still had enough fuel in our emergency gas can to reach park headquarters. (We later learned that the Cooper family had gone to town for supplies and we could have pumped the gas ourselves and put the money under the special nearby "money rock.") After pouring all our extra gas into the car, we went on, but what a road! The fact that we had passed a bona fide country store as indicated in the brochure renewed my spirits a little; yet how distant was the blue etching of a mountain group we knew must be the Chisos. The road across the desert was rough and our trailer bumped along behind us in sync with my thumping heart. Never had I seen such an expanse of arid land, such far horizons! I was sure we were in the midst of nowhere for there was no sign of a living soul, man nor beast. Miles passed and we neared human habitation once again. A stone house nestled at the foot of the mountains. A Mexican lady appeared in the doorway and gaped at us as we passed. To this ranch woman we must have presented something of an apparition as we bounced along followed by the swaying trailer, since in this period of gas-rationing imposed by World War II, people weren't able to travel just for fun. We didn't get far beyond the house when the road steepened . . . and the car stalled . . . and the radiator steamed. We all piled out to await further orders from our leader. Pete told us to bring him some large rocks, and these he placed under the trailer wheels to keep it from rolling into the nearby canyon. The trailer unhitched, we climbed back into the Chevy and continued our slow trek up the moun-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 23

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 8

tain. We reached some water barrels, placed there by the park service for cooling hot radiators and puffing engines. Pete brought the Chevy to life with long drinks of water, and we drove on. U p . . . up . . . around curves, higher and higher into the green coolness of the mountains. The vegetation was a welcome sight after the glare of the desert. You need to see this place to experience the awesome moment when your heart stands still and your whole body seems to swell—almost to soar. The scene was so unexpected, so spectacular, we gasped as we saw for the first time this view of incredible beauty. As we topped the divide we could look down into a small bowl of a valley where typical government barracks were clustered like so many toy houses. The valley was surrounded by sparsely vegetated mountains spiked with pink rock formations that rose on all sides in rugged spires and cliffs. At the far end of the valley, beyond the winding road, our eyes settled on a cleft in the ring of mountains —the Window—and through this window we could clearly see another world. It was a white desert world like the one we'd just passed through, and beyond the whiteness were the purple and blue mountain ranges of Mexico. Wordlessly we crept down the road in low gear. Pete carefully braking the Chevy at every turn. The narrow road was bordered on occasion with a sparse row of boulders to keep vehicles from bounding over the edge. I clung to the car with sweating palms, and dug my shoes into the floorboard as I put on my own brakes. I was breathless, and found myself still clutching Patty and the side of the car with tense muscles when wefinallyarrived at the headquarters building. Our trip that day had been a paradox of delight and anxiety that would return more than once as we settled into our new life in the Big Bend.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 24

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

The

Long

Road

to Texas

At last we reached our destination, the park headquarters, and happiness washed away the ragged edges of my fear. We drew up before the National Park Service office, identifiable by the American flag testing the breeze. Pete left us in the car while he made himself known to the park personnel. The clerk, Harry Linder, received him enthusiastically, saying he had expected our arrival. The Washington office had advised them that a photographer and his family would be arriving to take publicity pictures for the National Park Service. Ross Maxwell, the park superintendent, came out to welcome us. Tall, quiet Ross, with a confident authority that set my mind at rest, arranged for someone to get the big truck and go back over the mountain for our trailer. Then we followed Ross's pickup to the campground, where he showed us the best place to settle down and gave us a brief overview of the Basin. It was a relief to know that we were expected for our weeklong stay in the Big Bend before we continued on our scheduled path to Arizona.

Two

The Long load to Texas AS WE WAITED for the trailer my thoughts turned back to September of 1944 when we sold our Ohio home and took a last look at the skyline of Cincinnati. We said good-by to all that meant friends and family, knowing we would never return, save to visit. We were now sur-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 25

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

The

Long

Road

to Texas

At last we reached our destination, the park headquarters, and happiness washed away the ragged edges of my fear. We drew up before the National Park Service office, identifiable by the American flag testing the breeze. Pete left us in the car while he made himself known to the park personnel. The clerk, Harry Linder, received him enthusiastically, saying he had expected our arrival. The Washington office had advised them that a photographer and his family would be arriving to take publicity pictures for the National Park Service. Ross Maxwell, the park superintendent, came out to welcome us. Tall, quiet Ross, with a confident authority that set my mind at rest, arranged for someone to get the big truck and go back over the mountain for our trailer. Then we followed Ross's pickup to the campground, where he showed us the best place to settle down and gave us a brief overview of the Basin. It was a relief to know that we were expected for our weeklong stay in the Big Bend before we continued on our scheduled path to Arizona.

Two

The Long load to Texas AS WE WAITED for the trailer my thoughts turned back to September of 1944 when we sold our Ohio home and took a last look at the skyline of Cincinnati. We said good-by to all that meant friends and family, knowing we would never return, save to visit. We were now sur-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 25

7/4/2012 9:24:55 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 1 0

viving on our scant savings, the frayed end of a shoestring that was not too sturdy. We must be cautious until such time as Pete established himself in his new profession, that of travel-adventure lecturer and free-lance photographer. There was a second important reason for our decision to move west. For twenty years I'd suffered from asthma. Medication, special diets, even hospitalization seemed to have no effect. Doctors had puzzled over the cure, and at last one suggested wryly that we "go to Africa." Not being willing to go to that extreme, we decided on Arizona. Perhaps the dry desert climate of the Southwest would be the answer for me, as it had been for others. We thought that by combining these two desires—Pete's wish to film the natural world, mine to regain my health— we would indeed find happiness there. Stopping in Texas on our westward trek was quite incidental and not at all in our original plan. While Pete was filming in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the assistant director of the National Park Service asked Pete if he would include Big Bend National Park in our westward journey. World War II was in progress and even governmental agencies had to curtail their expenditures. Big Bend had became a national park a few months earlier, in June of 1944, and was in need of publicity. Pete had agreed to make a promotional film as well as still photographs of the Big Bend. In return they would furnish transportation to the remote areas of the park and Pete would be given extra film for his own use, in lieu of reimbursement for his trouble. Pete had discussed the idea with his friend Art Stupka, then a naturalist at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, who encouraged him to accept the assignment. "It's a wilderness," Art said, "and will be a real challenge."

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 26

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

The

Long

Road

to

Texas

1 1

Pete decided then to have a look but did not commit himself to the prospect of settling down for more than a few days, eager as he was to reach Arizona and begin desert filming. When he showed me an old folder on Big Bend in its days as a state park, I was aghast. "We're not going to that place" was my shocked comment. "It looks so desolate . . . let's don't go to Texas!" But it seemed we would. My worries did not faze the commander of our Westward-Ho-ing, and we started out for Texas as if we meant to all along. The trip had been a long one. After leaving the Smoky Mountains late in the fall of 1944 we went south to the bayou country of Louisiana, where Pete filmed the water birds that winter in the southern wetlands of the Mississippi River delta. Now it was February and time to go on to Texas and Arizona. In San Antonio the girls and I walked across the plaza to the Alamo while Pete took the car to be serviced before going into sparsely populated desert country. We had only an hour to spend at the Alamo, so I scarcely have any recollection of the wall plaques I scanned. I do remember the atmosphere of antiquity and history and solemnity pervading the thick old walls. We looked longest at such curiosities as Davy Crockett's vest and powder horn. And were drawn to the paintings representing the Mexicans' release of Mrs. Dickinson and her infant. Highway 90, west of San Antonio, drifted along in lockstep with the railroad tracks. We read that the Southern Pacific Railroad was built in the 1880's and connected the water holes and settlements all the way from New Orleans to California. Before the railroad, portions of our route were wagon roads used by stagecoach, military troops, and the pony express riders. In those days it was called the

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 27

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 1 2

Chihuahua Trail and was the main trade corridor between Chihuahua, Mexico, and San Antonio, Texas. The mesquite trees began to shrink in size as the land became rockier and "real" trees seemed to grow only in the dry creek beds. The first sighting of a prickly pear excited us. At last we had seen a real cactus! After several days of travel we arrived in Del Rio late one afternoon and found a tourist park. We decided to leave the trailer there and take the car to Villa Acuna, Mexico, after breakfast the next morning. There is something very uncomfortable about being in a strange land for the first time, and hearing a language you can't make heads or tails of. I so wished we could at least interpret the glances of these dark-eyed "foreigners." We drove over the Rio Grande, after being inspected by the stern officers at the International Bridge. I felt as guilty as if we were smuggling contraband, war secrets, and a dozen Nazi spies in the trunk of the car and I was so relieved when we left the bridge behind. We entered the main street of the village and oozed about in the mud, for it had been raining and was in fact still misting. Pete pulled up alongside the curb to park and had no sooner turned off the ignition than forth stepped a uniformed individual with Watch Cars inscribed on the peak of his cap. We turned our Chevy over to Mr. Watch Cars and meandered off. The word Tourist must have been inscribed on my forehead. For up and down the narrow muddy street heads popped out of doorways and gift shop employees dusted off their bric-a-brac. What a disappointment we were to Villa Acuna! We had no money to spend. Postcards became our excuse for wandering through the shops to look around. We finally did buy some inexpensive jewelry. Pins of jade and silver for my mother and my sister, Emma.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 28

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

The

Long

Road

to

Texas

13

At noon we looked for a place to eat and decided against Mrs. Crosby's immediately. Pete said, "Who would want to go to Mexico and eat at an American restaurant? We want Mexican food!" In later years we learned that Mrs. Crosby was indeed Mexican, and her restaurant became one of our favorite spots for fine Mexican cuisine. But that day we found a little place called the Toltec Cafe, a nice Mexican-sounding name with chicken enchiladas on the menu. We had heard of enchiladas before but had never seen one. We examined closely the thimbleful of cubed or diced chicken rolled up in a tortilla over which the chili-tasting tomato sauce was poured. A little sprinkle of cheese decorated the top. They were delicious. After lunch June and Betsy each bought a set of tiny Mexican-pottery doll dishes. Patty got a small iron fire engine and cried because I wouldn't buy one for her "unna hand." (She always wanted a cookie for each hand, too.) We retrieved the Chevy from Mr, Watch Cars and headed back across the border. The inspectors must have thought us very special to return to the states without nylon hose, leather chairs, liquor, or jewels. They looked at the pins, and the set of toy dishes June and Betsy held out, and smiled when Pete showed his precious purchase of four sugar cookies. My final glimpse of Mexico that day was the scattering of adobe shacks with straw roofs on the sloping bank of the Rio Grande. But I still recall the bright-eyed children, the bewhiskered uniformed officials of the border crossing, the pretty Mexican girls in the gift shops, and the disgruntled proprietors muttering as we left their shops empty-handed. The miles crept by so slowly after we left Del Rio. It was

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 29

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 1 4

not long until the few remaining trees became shrubs and the sky became the focus for our unbelieving eyes. I didn't know the sky was so big . . . so blue . . . but as we traveled west I discovered that although the earth grew whiter and the vegetation sparser, the sky grew more intense, more brilliantly blue. We were amazed to find the road dropping suddenly into a gorge. "Pecos River" the sign said. As we eased down the steep slope (now a gentle fishing-access road) I agonized that we would never pull our trailer up the long, steep incline that wound along the far side of the little bridge. Not a moment too soon for me, we crossed the noisy bridge and crept up the narrow road. What a relief to reach the top and stop to let our Chevy catch its breath. While the engine cooled, Pete and I wandered to the brink of the cliff and looked back down at the thread of green water twisting past the boulders, cliffs, and caves that had been created through millions of bygone years. Our Texas map was not a new one and still showed small towns on the map, like Shumla, Indio, Pumpville, Longfellow. They now seemed to be only water stops for the coalburning locomotives. Some were inhabited by a caretaker family or two but were not a place where we could expect to find a gas pump or garage. A tire was almost flat when we pulled up to the gas pump at the small service station in Langtry. The wind was blowing ferociously from the north that February morning, so the girls and I went into the little store for hamburgers. The waitress worried to another customer that a blue norther was on its way. Not knowing we were in Judge Roy Bean country, we passed the infamous "Jersey Lilly" [sic] saloon without a thought. We did know we were in wide open spaces, and so we sang cowboy songs from our well-worn songbook and I tried

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 30

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

The

Long

Road

to

Texas

15

to think of games for the children to play that might help them pass away the miles. They counted windmills. They counted ranch gate cattleguards, and looked for cowboys, and soon fell asleep hypnotized by the passing telephone poles and fence posts. I was amazed that we hadn't seen buffalo or other wildlife and wondered aloud to Pete, "Where are the deer and the antelope playing today? " He shrugged. I thought of a postcard I'd seen in Del Rio: The sun has riz, the sun has set And here we iz in Texas yet. My sentiments exactly! Finally I closed my eyes against the midday glare and went to sleep. Later that afternoon I awoke as we topped a rise, and saw a view to rival any I had ever seen. Deep-blue mountains beckoned. Stretching from north to south, it was a wide vista of jagged peaks and mesas creating an irregular outline against the gray desert valley and the sunset sky before us. Dark banks of clouds to the north warned that bad weather was approaching. We hurried across that long, wide desert basin where the map showed that we would find Marathon.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 31

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

Three

Under the Piiion Pines WE WERE REALLY impressed with the little village of Marathon and its quaint houses each with a windmill! I didn't recall that the author Zane Grey had mentioned windmills when he described small Western towns. We drove down Main Street. To the right was French's General Store, a small post office, the Gulf station, Green's Grocery, and the Gage Hotel in a tight line. The train station and loading pens were to the south along the railroad track. Houses were beyond in both directions. Mr. Green told us there'd been a severe drought, which explained why everything was such a dusty gray. There were few trees in the village to relieve the barren appearance. The north wind became colder as the storm approached, and we parked for the night at the Gulf station so we'd be "first in line" when they opened the next morning. After a blustery twenty-degree night, we loaded the trailer with groceries to last through our week's visit to the park, bought gasoline, and turned south on the dusty, rutted dirt road. After the slow, daylong journey ended we were certainly happy to be at our campsite snug in a circle of piiion pines at the foot of Casa Grande, the most imposing peak in the Basin. I enjoyed describing our adventures in letters to my parents, my sister, Emma, and cousin Josephine as well as friends we'd left behind. It was my habit to keep a carbon or rough copy of my letters. This made it possible for me to keep up with what I had written each of them and to copy

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 32

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

Under

t h e P i non

Pines

17

into my journal our travels and activities. So, as soon as possible, I got out my typewriter and wrote home: The Chisos range is a biological island isolated from the rest of the United States by the wide desert, and Pete is excited to find so many species of birds and plants he's not seen elsewhere in his travels. There are blue jays all about our campsite, the Couch's jay. It is found in the United States only in the Chisos. They are delightfully brilliant flashing in and out of the evergreens, and as noisy as all jays are. Let me wander twenty yards from the orbit of my normal activity, and a flock of them gather overhead, wondering what I am about and WHY! They can be quite annoying when you want silence! We've been told the flag-tailed deer found in our mountains are unique to this area, and Pete is already looking for the elusive Colima warbler that nests here and only here. Nearby is a weeping juniper that is so strange. At first I thought the tree was wilting and perhaps ready to die but was told it is a dejected tree by nature. The winds that blow here are surely unpredictable. At one moment they're gentle zephyr-like breezes, and in the next moment they can whip themselves into a fury that's surprising. During the night they howl and rage through the mountains, until the trailer shakes with the force of their wrath. By morning, they calm again into quite docile creatures. Their whines and moans are sometimes quite melodious, and I have a suspicion now and then that if I could be quiet enough I'd surprise Pan himself behind one of the huge boulders, playing their accompaniment.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 33

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 1 8

One morning I awoke to find the Basin being invaded by fingers of fog. Whispy tendrils crept through the gaps in Pulliam mountain to the north, and wound themselves around the rocky spires along the slopes causing them to stand like lighthouses clustered along a frothy ocean shore. I could smell the dampness as northern breezes blew softly across the Basin. The air smelled first of desert sagebrush and creosote, and then wet rock and pine needles from the mountain slopes. As the clouds moved in, the dimensions of each mountain became amazingly pronounced. What had appeared as a simple slope became a mass of canyons, curves, and cliffs delineated by coves where the clouds rested, out of reach from the searching wind. Throughout the morning the dry wind from the south battled the never ending onslaught of fog and cloud. The battle raged until by noon the cloud proclaimed victory and completely filled the Basin with its grey mist. Our voices no longer echoed off the hillsides and we were subdued and hushed by its ghostly presence. The girls went for a hike to better experience the foggy dampness. But I was chilled by its mystery and felt I had experienced the arrival of the legendary ghosts of the Chisos. We still love our little trailer house. We convert it at appropriate times into playroom, dining room, bedroom, or whatever. At this moment the kitchen is my office, and I'm typing like mad. In a few minutes it will return to dining room, and tonight after supper it will become our reading room, with all of us sitting around the gasoline lamp for light. . . talk about togetherness! If the children wish to play "Old Maid" or solitaire, Pete and I lounge in the front part of the trailer which becomes a small 8 X 9 foot living room until bedtime, when the divan is opened and there is no more room for lounging.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 34

7/4/2012 9:24:56 PM

Under

t h e Pinon

Pines

19

The girls slept on the divan. Patty's bed was a small bunklike berth that Pete made for her at the foot of the children's bed. It had a frame of bent aluminum tubing that we had covered with a sturdy piece of canvas. On that we placed a thin mattress and fitted sheet. Three sides hooked onto the walls of the trailer; the fourth side was suspended by a chain from a hook in the ceiling. After the children were in bed we often sat in the yard enjoying the starlit evening. The last chore of our day was lowering the kitchen table to the level of the benches on each side. Sheets and blankets were pulled from their storage compartment and Pete and I drifted off to sleep listening to the wind whistling through the pifion pines. One of our first "improvements" was to stretch a clothesline under some trees behind the trailer. I called it my "hanging garden," for it was usually blooming with my daily wash. Down the road from us about fifty yards or so, there was a spigot where we went to carry water to the trailer in our wooden buckets, or where I could take my galvanized tub to wash clothes — a few each day. The spigot had to be rigged to keep the horses from turning the water on for a drink. To my amazement they could really do it! Our yard and the mountainsides were a garden of cactus and blossoming locoweed. They told me locoweed would kill a cow if she ate it; but we had no cows, so we were saved that worry. How amazed I was when the century plants began shooting up their blooms talks. They grew several inches taller every day until they finally reached twenty feet or so. It doesn't take a hundred years for them to blossom . . . only twenty-four and then the plant dies and young ones at the base begin to grow. I often gazed about me and counted the huge asparaguslike stalks. I pondered over how big a piece

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 35

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 20

of toast I would need to support four stalks and how much cheese sauce it would take to cover them all. My mouth, already tired of canned vegetables, watered just at the thought of it. Pete spent each day exploring the mountains — showing up when the sun went down. I worried about him hiking alone and was sure he'd meet a raging mountain lion, or fall off a cliff, or twist an ankle, or find himself stranded in some remote place. I'd look about and wonder how we'd ever find him in such event. It was such a vast wilderness. His explorations should not have surprised me, for it had been the same in Ohio where he'd spent most holidays and weekends in the field. He went out alone and would wait silently in a blind for hours to get the perfect bird picture. He was never impatient when waiting for a flower to open or the sun to shine—just so—between the clouds. And he never wanted anyone around to distract him from his work. At the end of the day he usually returned home tired, and sat down to a warmed-over supper or a bowl of milk and graham crackers before heading off to bed. But here in Big Bend his roaming disturbed me more. The country was just too big for me. I could not believe anyone drove 13 miles to the mailbox and got mail only once a week. I could not believe it was 80 miles to the grocery store or 110 miles to a doctor. I could not believe there was no school here. But so it was. The outside world remained quite distant. We depended on news magazines and clippings from home to supplement the sketchy bulletins that Ross and Helen received on their shortwave radio. In fact, V-E Day, May 7, 1945, came and went as uneventfully in our mountain stronghold as wash day. The following morning the Maxwells came by our trailer to bring us the news on their way to Alpine. After that, I expected it would

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 36

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

Exploring

t h e Basin 21

be a different sort of day. But the sun shone as hot, the winds blew as cool, and the mountains encircling our little encampment presented the same rock formations and silhouettes—all unmoved by joy and peace. I could not even share my joy with Pete. He was away photographing orchids in Oak Canyon. I knew he would have the same feeling of relief that at last the European troubles had ended, and I waited eagerly for his return. I knew more detailed news would come with the mail truck on Monday, but at that moment I could only give my solitary prayers of thanksgiving and relief that at last the war was ending. At these times I felt as isolated as some of the strange plants I was learning to recognize. But Pete's enthusiasm for the country grew, and our stay extended from weeks to months . . . and still Pete was not ready to leave.

Four

exploring the THE PARK SERVICE headquarters was in the lower level of the Basin, either a mile down the road or half a mile by trail, but our trailer was all alone on the flat that would someday become the concessions area in the Chisos Mountains. Since our arrival we had had only one day when it rained more than three drops, and that was the day before Easter. A storm blew up, winds thrashed about us, and finally down came a shower of hailstones so prolific I thought of my fiir

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 37

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

Exploring

t h e Basin 21

be a different sort of day. But the sun shone as hot, the winds blew as cool, and the mountains encircling our little encampment presented the same rock formations and silhouettes—all unmoved by joy and peace. I could not even share my joy with Pete. He was away photographing orchids in Oak Canyon. I knew he would have the same feeling of relief that at last the European troubles had ended, and I waited eagerly for his return. I knew more detailed news would come with the mail truck on Monday, but at that moment I could only give my solitary prayers of thanksgiving and relief that at last the war was ending. At these times I felt as isolated as some of the strange plants I was learning to recognize. But Pete's enthusiasm for the country grew, and our stay extended from weeks to months . . . and still Pete was not ready to leave.

Four

exploring the THE PARK SERVICE headquarters was in the lower level of the Basin, either a mile down the road or half a mile by trail, but our trailer was all alone on the flat that would someday become the concessions area in the Chisos Mountains. Since our arrival we had had only one day when it rained more than three drops, and that was the day before Easter. A storm blew up, winds thrashed about us, and finally down came a shower of hailstones so prolific I thought of my fiir

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 37

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 22

coat and wondered if Mother had wrapped it in mothballs! The din on the trailer roof was terrific, and I was sure some of them would bore through, but no damage was done. The brief mountain storm was a real flood out on the desert. The road to the park was so badly washed out that the park workmen spent two days getting it reopened. Someone on the way down from Marathon had to stay at the deserted Burnham ranch house overnight. And three other groups had to camp on the desert in their cars until Tornillo Creek ran down. A strange automobile drove slowly by the trailer one day, messing up the hopscotch pattern Betsy and June had drawn in a sandy spot of the road. "Are we going to have people coming in and out all summer!" June protested, upset to think someone had come to invade their privacy. "We won't be able to have any fun!" But I could not imagine that they would ever lack for fun. I found them, one morning, teetering on a raft that was actually an old door left: behind by workmen. They said they were "Tom Sawyer" and "Huck Finn." I couldn't help but believe it, they were so dirty and brown. They came home to pack a lunch and then return to "row" up and down the Mississippi all afternoon. I even caught "Tom" returning home to spy on me. I'd become "Aunt Polly," I suppose. On the raft, at least, they were not wearing out their shoes. We had such a problem that first summer trying to keep the children in shoes. The Girl Scout oxfords that were new when we arrived in Texas lasted only a few weeks before the flimsy wartime soles succumbed to the sharp rugged terrain. We ordered more. We asked the folks at home to trade us any extra shoe stamps they might have in exchange for our spare meat stamps. In desperation, I ordered boys' brogans from the catalog since the soles seemed twice as thick. But with all the

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 38

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

Exploring

t h e Basin 23

climbing and running, they too were gone in no time. So the children went about flapping soles until I finally tied rags around their shoes to keep them from tripping ifnfll we could make the 110-mile trip to Alpine. The first thing I did upon arrival was to take Betsy and June to the Ration Board office. With their shoe soles slapping loudly behind me, they flapped their way upstairs, where I begged for yet another set of stamps. Meanwhile, Pete ordered a shoe last, an awl, and every necessity for shoe repair. He cut pieces from an old tire to use for new soles. When he finished resoling the first pair of shoes, he announced proudly, "There, that ought to be good for ten thousand miles!" But even those soles succumbed since they couldn't be secured firmly to the tops of the shoes. I finally decided to try tennis shoes. They seemed to last a little longer and the girls eventually learned how to walk more carefully in the rocky terrain. They were always on the go, and since Donald Maxwell lived at the headquarters in the lower basin they often played down there. Donald was the six-year-old son of Superintendent Ross Maxwell and his wife, Helen. There was also a younger son, Bruce. A few days after our arrival Bruce celebrated his first birthday and Helen invited the children down to a party. Since we had no refrigerator, the serving of homemade ice cream with the birthday cake was a very special treat. Helen was a charming, effervescent person. She had a practical nature and a wide smile and I knew at once that our friendship would be a special one. As the weeks went by and Pete continued his photographic excursions, the girls spent more and more time exploring the Basin. It took only a few minutes for them to hike down the hill to headquarters just to see what was going on. They liked to follow the carpenter around as he

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 39

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 24

repaired, repainted, and reproduced living quarters for park service staff from the remnants of the abandoned CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) shacks. The carpenter, Upton Edwards, lived alone in a small renovated apartment. He wore his hair bobbed in the back, so that he reminded me of the well-known entertainer William F. Cody ("Buffalo Bill"), without the goatee. Mr. Edwards had been a rancher from "near San Antonya. Ma'am," and he rode a horse with the enviable grace of a real honest-to-goodness cowboy. Another of their favorite people was Lloyd Wade, who kept the park roads and bridges in repair. He also cared for the park service horses. He let the children follow him down to the corral and showed them how to saddle and bridle the horses. He even let the children feed them now and then. If there was any activity at all at the corral, we knew Betsy would be there too. The girls had found their cowboys, at last! Mrs. Wade was on hand if a tourist should happen to wander into the Basin. She kept several of the rock cabins, built by the CCC boys, ready for such occasions and would take the new arrivals up the hill just beyond our trailer and help them settle in. The four rock-and-adobe cabins each consisted of one large room with two double beds. There was a bathroom with running water, toilet, sink, a hot water heater and a shower. A kitchen area was off to one side. There was no electricity, of course, but the coal oil lamp was handy for those who did not retire early. There was a porch extending the length of each cabin with a rock wall across the front. These four cabins, and several more completed later, are still in use today. Patty was about to celebrate her second birthday. I was amazed that she could walk carefully among the prickly pears that grew around the trailer even though they were

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 40

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

Exploring

t h e Basin 25

bigger than she. I was also surprised that she was learning a few Spanish words along with her English. One day at lunch, Patty was waiting impatiently for me to take my seat at the table. Suddenly she called out, "jVamanos!" (Let's go!) It was so unexpected I sat down in surprise. One evening we took our usual quiet walk down to the steps of a rock storage building near the watering trough to watch for deer. The little Sonoran flagtail deer came quite near, and if we were quiet they seemed unafraid. Patty had learned to sit very still and watch too. "Goodness gracious," she would say under her breath, mimicking me. Well, on this particular night we caught seven deer off guard as they were feeding. They stood frozen as we stopped midstride to stare. They were a living diorama. About that time, Patty forgot herself and said in a loud voice. "Egad! Looka da deer!" And with a flick of their tails they leaped from sight and were gone up the mountainside. In front of our trailer was an enormous limestone-slab picnic table with a sturdy limestone bench on each side. We had a crude outdoor fireplace made of rocks and a grate where we often cooked our meals. Pete built a cooler contraption in the tree from a wooden packing box wrapped and draped with gunny sacks. The sacks "sprouted" from a large, shallow enamel pan at the top that we kept full of water. If we kept the gunny sacks wet enough, some of our less demanding foodstuff would stay cool. In good weather June was allowed to sleep outside on a cot, or on the stone table in Pete's sleeping bag. Whenever she did, Patty was promoted to the divan with Betsy. As the days went by, our slab table rather than the trailer kitchen became the focal point for most of our activities.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 41

7/4/2012 9:24:57 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 26

When we first arrived Betsy, June, and Donald went out on "burro hunts," hiking all over the Basin looking for the four park service pack burros, particularly Bill, the one they liked to ride. Soon the darned burros were hanging around the trailer. We couldn't go out with anything that looked like garbage, or anything in a pan or bucket, that they didn't come following along like docile kittens mewing for milk. They opened their mouths and sucked their breath in noisily hoping it would bring food. They were always hungry, it seemed. Sometimes when I went for water I couldn't help but laugh at the picture we made, me with my pails followed by the four burros. They stood around staring at me as I filled my pails, until I felt quite uncomfortable. They have such soulful dark eyes, and I was sure they were hoping I'd relent and give them a treat. One day the girls were sitting at the limestone table sketching. Imagine the amazement when their favorite burro, Bill, strolled up and leaned over June's shoulder as if checking on the likeness. I was lucky that our little Brownie box camera was handy and I could snap the scene before Bill went back to his grazing. The children put up with our change in life-style without complaint. Their diet was limited. No fresh milk (and they refused powdered or canned). No orange juice (they hated the taste of canned juice). No canned spinach (yuck again). Fresh meat came only once a week since we had no electricity or refrigeration. Our hamburger, roast, or chops had to be cooked the day they arrived, and placed in our cooler where it would last another day, or maybe two, depending on the weather. Then we went back to canned chicken, Spam, or tuna fish until it was grocery day again. I tried to cook casseroles that contained vital, nutritious foods—-like oatmeal. I also baked oatmeal bread and bread pudding (when we had enough eggs).

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 42

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

Exploring

t h e Basin 27

OATMEAL "TRAILER" BREAD, 1944 Makes two loaves. Heat oven to 375° 2 cups boiling water 1 cup uncooked Mother's Oats 1 cake yeast 2 cup brown sugar \ cup warm water 5| cups sifted flour 1 tablespoon salt 2 tablespoons melted shortening 2 cup seeded raisins Pour boiling water over oats, stir well and allow to cool. Crumble yeast into a bowl and add \ cup of sugar and the warm water; mix well. Sift and measure flour and add \ cup of it to the yeast mixture; when this batter is light and bubbly, add the oats. Stir in the remaining sugar, the salt and the shortening. Combine raisins with the flour and add to first mixture. Brush top of dough with melted shortening, cover, and allow to rise until light. Then knead down lightly, adding more flour if necessary to shape into loaves, place in greased bread pans. Brush top with margarine, let rise until doubled. Bake 375° 50-55 minutes. Do not bake bread on a rainy day. It may not rise. I wrote my sister, Emma: You should see me trying to bake in that teeny-tiny oven that sits upon the gas burner. When making bread I have to pump up the stove every few minutes, so I usually have a book handy, and read with one hand on the "throttle" to keep the gas burning until the bakery goods are done. I'm still amazed when the bread emerges brown and tasty. An hour and a half of pumping, and it is gone so quickly!

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 43

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 28

I was reminded the other night, as I ate my canned chicken casserole, of the time we had squirrel for supper when we were in Louisiana. I had never eaten squirrel, nor would I have then, except for being short on meat ration stamps, so I was trying very hard to imagine it was chicken. Anyway, when Pete mentioned that he'd shot the squirrel himself, Betsy's eyesflewopen. I expected her to refuse further participation in this cannibalism. But no, she went on eating, trying to evade Patty's attempts to swipe pieces from her plate. Betsy chattered away between bites about how cute squirrels are with their bushy tails and their strong little legs so they can climb about in the trees and so on, until my stomach rebelled and I ordered her to stop talking and eat. "Its little legs look just like a cat's," she went on, holding up a slim joint for our inspection! Pete cooked breakfast. Sometimes we had oatmeal mixed with farina, or bowls of boiled rice and raisins, but this the children liked as little as the monotonous portions of oats. However, they had good appetites and learned to eat what was available without too much fuming. The way we went through Mother's Oats those days, it didn't take long to get our set of green depression glass dishes that came in boxes of cereal and soap! The kids learned to disguise their daily portions of oats with cinnamon, maple syrup, jelly, stewed apricots, or whitebrush honey that we bought from Bill Cooper in gallon jars or buckets. During the war margarine replaced butter. It came in a one-pound plastic package. The margarine was white in color and had a pellet of yellow coloring inside that had to be squeezed and kneaded into the brick before opening the package so that it resembled butter in color. It was a lot of trouble so we disguised its whiteness in other ways. We kept a jar of honey and white margarine mixed together for sand-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 44

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

Te rIi n g u a 29

wiches. The honey wasn't so messy that way, and the girls could make their own honey and peanut butter sandwiches. White margarine looked like a lump of lard sitting on my toast, but was fine to use for cooking and baking. As the weeks passed we continued to learn more about our surroundings in the Basin. Pete spent quite a bit of time in the desert as well. He often joined the park ranger Oren Senter or Ross Maxwell as they made patrol trips to the outposts, so he learned the features of the park quickly. Soon there would be opportunities for the girls and me to visit the desert regions as well.

Five

IN THE SUMMER of 1945 Terlingua (Ter-foigwah) was a small mining settlement, almost entirely Mexican in population, about thirty-five miles from the Basin. The mercury mines had closed several years earlier and much of the population had moved elsewhere. But it was still a community of importance along the border. There was something so ancient about it, and I didn't like to imagine what tourists might do to it as the years went by. I don't know what I expected of Terlingua. In my early Big Bend days I thought that every village had at least one street and at least one tree. So it was something of a shock, coming upon the sprinkling of adobe huts scattered over

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 45

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

Te rIi n g u a 29

wiches. The honey wasn't so messy that way, and the girls could make their own honey and peanut butter sandwiches. White margarine looked like a lump of lard sitting on my toast, but was fine to use for cooking and baking. As the weeks passed we continued to learn more about our surroundings in the Basin. Pete spent quite a bit of time in the desert as well. He often joined the park ranger Oren Senter or Ross Maxwell as they made patrol trips to the outposts, so he learned the features of the park quickly. Soon there would be opportunities for the girls and me to visit the desert regions as well.

Five

IN THE SUMMER of 1945 Terlingua (Ter-foigwah) was a small mining settlement, almost entirely Mexican in population, about thirty-five miles from the Basin. The mercury mines had closed several years earlier and much of the population had moved elsewhere. But it was still a community of importance along the border. There was something so ancient about it, and I didn't like to imagine what tourists might do to it as the years went by. I don't know what I expected of Terlingua. In my early Big Bend days I thought that every village had at least one street and at least one tree. So it was something of a shock, coming upon the sprinkling of adobe huts scattered over

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 45

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 30

the desert without apparent pattern or thought. They just seemed to grow up from the sands wherever human hands shaped them, and were so much the color of the sand that at first glance it was hard to find the subtle color changes between earth and dwelling. There were no streets wandering between the adobes, and no green things save perhaps a few scattered cacti. There was no one about. The sun beating down so unrelentingly upon the flat-topped adobe huts was reason enough to take a midday siesta. When we stepped out of the car we were almost blinded by the glare about us. Before we reached the trading post my eyes began to shrivel up, and my face screwed into such a shape that my teeth felt sunburned. Inside the store the only English-speaking individual was Mrs. Shoemaker, whom Pete had come to see about a festival he planned to photograph. I wandered about looking at flatirons, calicos, cheap sombreros, and lovely rock samples brought out of the mines. It wasn't long before Betsy "had to go." Mrs. Shoemaker said, "Just go out and round to the back." With Patty under one arm and Betsy hanging on the other, we blindly lurched out into the sun and around the building to the "back," stumbling over various rusted parts of machinery, automobiles, and such. We couldn't open our eyes long enough to distinguish anything that said "Ladies." We kept on, peeping through our lashes and the glare, until at last we bumped into a Mexican lady who had seen us from her one-room adobe in the "back." I said, "Can you show me where to find the lavatory?" She looked at me blankly, and smiled genially, but that was all. "Lavatory!" I insisted. "You know . . . toilet." I blushed

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 46

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

TerIingua 3 1

over the bare word. Surely every language pronounced it in exactly that same way! She beamed with a wider grin, but less and less comprehension. Then I began shoving the children at her and waving my hands around saying, "The children have to go!" sure now that she'd get the idea. But she only seemed to grow more congenial as each moment passed. I was getting a little frantic for fear the necessity would soon be so urgent the children wouldn't "make it" to wherever we were supposed to go. "Toilet!"

Suddenly I saw a gleam of understanding. " T o e . . . tooe?" I nodded vigorously, and she began leading us through a maze of grocery boxes and litter, through the rear of the grocery store, and then with a flourish of her brown palm said, "Toe. . . ." To my horror I found she'd led us back to the store again. Seeing Pete and Mrs. Shoemaker through the door, I backed away and said, "No! No!" By that time, a clerk heard the commotion and came in. She understood my words. In a rush of Spanish the two women went into a verbal clinch, and with much gesticulating and waving of hands the clerk explained what we wanted. The fat little woman waddled away, with us stringing along behind. We crossed the lot to a tourist court of sorts, with doors that said "LADIES" and "MEN." At last she decided which was which and drew out a key to unlock the proper door. I couldn't even think of the Spanish word for "Thank you," so I bowed elaborately and said very loudly as we somehow do to force understanding.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 47

7/4/2012 9:24:58 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 3 2

"Thank you. Thank you!"

She nodded graciously and smiled. "Welc . . . " she said, and turned away. I drew the children into the shelter of the dark room and all but collapsed against the wall from the exertion of trying to make myself understood on such a brutally hot afternoon. It was a sobering experience to see how little these people had in the way of luxury. It is hard to imagine how far away they were from civilization, until you've ridden the miles and miles through the desert and come upon their tiny houses of mud. One door at the front and a small window or two. No grass or flowers or trees or shade anywhere. I hoped to learn more about them. They seemed happy, carefree, and so very slow. But I reasoned that if I had to live in the desert in a place that heats to 120° on a summer afternoon, I too would learn to be slow. In spite of the heat the desert landscape and its surprises continued to amaze me. I was in awe of the expanses and the beautiful, gaunt mountains that hemmed them in. On the way home, Pete stopped near a colorless stretch of sand. Cacti and other scrubby little plants were all around us as we walked about, then suddenly we came upon a flower of exquisite beauty. Cactus blossoms are amazing in their fragile way. I expected such a vicious little thorny growth to produce a sturdy bloom, but they were very delicate. From a distance they seemed to melt into the background of sand and rock so perfectly, you'd no idea there was a flower about. Then as we walked along they revealed themselves among the grass and rocks. It was a thrill to come upon them, and a surprise to find how brilliant they were at close range. Deep scarlet, purples, oranges, yellows —all bursting into bloom from the small clusters of cacti, as if to prove the barren and arid "wastes" have a shining hour, too.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 48

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

Terlingua 33

The recent hard rain had also set the desert shrubs abloom. The ocotillos were fascinating with their crooked long canes, tiny leaves, and blossoming red flowers, in vivid contrast to the golden glow of the desert. We checked the pitaya cactus to see if any fruit was ripe. We had been told that they tasted just like strawberries, and we couldn't wait to have a bowl or two. At a dry creekbed, or arroyo, we came upon a desert willow and went to stand in the scanty shade of its long, narrow leaves. How surprised we were to see the delicate flowers about our heads. They looked like little orchids gently waving in the breeze. There were wild flowers on the desert, too. Frail little poppies that put forth the most astounding blossoms. Pictures of them could never bring out the brilliance, the delicacy, and the wonder of them. The children wanted to gather them up and keep them. We planned to sketch them at home, but we found the blossoms withered in a few moments when broken from the parent plant. We were overwhelmed to see the silver-gray plants they called ceniza turn into a mass of small rose-purple flowers, almost overnight. Even the greasewood had a special beauty and a pungent odor that called attention to their domination of the gravel soils. The desert surprised me with its wealth of beauty. We learned we could not see much by riding along the road but needed to wander leisurely in the hot stretches of sand early in the day to see the flowers at their best. I had an opportunity to horn in on some of Pete's filming when he allowed us to accompany him in the search for desert flowers. The sun beat down on us as we walked on the sands, waiting for Pete or following in his wake. The girls found an odd-looking beetle which Pete "collected" in one of our water glasses for Ralph Drury at the

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 49

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 34

Cincinnati Museum of Natural History. I had Patty by one hand and the beetle in the glass in my other hand. Suddenly I heard a strange sound. I was sure it was the warning of a rattlesnake —although I'd never heard a rattlesnake before. Thinking that we were surely in the vicinity of great danger, I heroically snatched Patty up into my arms and looked carefully all about me. No snake! I felt rather foolish when I realized the noise was caused by the beetle's efforts to climb up the glass. Later we did find a rattlesnake. A sidewinder was crossing the road just as we passed in the car. Pete grabbed his movie camera and approached the creature slowly while we sat safely in the car watching through the rear window. Pete was very pleased with the results, a lengthy sequence of the snake as it slithered away—sidewards, of course —through the sandy desert scrub, eyeing Pete with unabashed suspicion. At another stop, Pete photographed the Rosillos Mountains through the scarlet blossoms of ocotillo and I begged for a peek into the camera finder. It was surely beautiful to see the scene condensed and framed as Pete likes to do it. We were hours getting home, taking long stops until pictures were made —or not made —according to Pete's decisions. At one point Betsy wailed, "When'll we ever get there! Daddy's wasting all his time taking pictures."

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 50

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

Six

IT WAS WEDNESDAY. The trailer looked antique, with layers of dust on everything. Every time we sat on a cushion we were enveloped in a cloud of dust that left us bleary-eyed and hay-feverish. "Time to houseclean!" I said to myself, taking a swat at a pillow that belched forth clouds of smoky whiteness that was the dust of the Chisos blown about by the devilish winds that rose over the desert to swoop down upon us at night! Before another minute passed I had ripped off slipcovers, piled sheets and pillowcases in a mound, strung blankets on the line, and set Pete to sweeping out the trailer, because he wasn't allergic to anything! I called a long recess so the kids could beat up on all the seat cushions. Even Patty grabbed up a stick and insisted she "wanna bang on piddows too!" So she banged, and they banged, and when I'd finished washing I banged on the rest of the dust that they had missed. Floors were scrubbed, and dusting became so vigorous that the trailer shone in a matter of hours. My spring cleaning was done. It was while I was hanging the last sheet that they came. When I saw the car drive up and park near the water hole where the deer came to drink, my heart sank. Very selfishly I muttered, as we often did, "Oh, dear! Why do they have to come to the Chisos! Why can't they be fishermen and park down by the Rio Grande! Why can't we have the mountains to ourselves!"

In my resentment I recalled something I'd heard somebody say: "If you chance to come upon people around here

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 51

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 36

nowadays, they're either big shots or bums." So, through the clothespins in my teeth, I muttered, "Bet they're bums." I learned later who they were, and the roll call read thusly: Clifford C. Presnall, from the Fish and Wildlife Service and a famous authority on mammals; W. B. McDougall, national park naturalist from Death Valley, an authority on plants; Walter P. Taylor, from the Smithsonian Institution, who was making an ecological survey of birds; and Karl P. Schmidt, of the Chicago Field Museum, an authority on reptiles and amphibians. These men made up the official delegation sent to explore the Big Bend area and also the Del Carmen and Fronteriza Mountains in Mexico, part of the proposed Big Bend International Park. Their survey and reports were now finished and they were on their way to other fields. Well, when Pete came in from talking to them, I almost collapsed with remorse to think of all the derogatory things I had been thinking about them all afternoon. They joined us that evening—all six of us on the newly washed slipcovers —- and what inspiring hours followed. To be seated in such informal conversation with four of the nation's foremost naturalists was an event. Here were men of science, men on the staffs of our best museums, conferring with Peter Koch, an associate of the Cincinnati Museum of Natural History. Between their telling us stories of their adventures, and Pete telling his, talk flew thick and fast over coffee cups, cheese and crackers, and mince pie. I was spellbound at the stories of Guatemala, Honduras, Peru, Ecuador, and Mexico in the various tales they told. I wondered how in the world people can cram so much knowledge into one lifetime. The course of conversation somehow kept reverting to the subject of snakes, and they all assured me I need not worry about rattlers. They had spent weeks covering the

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 52

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

Dignitaries 37

Chisos Mountains area hoping to get some specimens and had found only two, on far away Mt. Emory. The Basin held so little in reptilian forms that they were really surprised, and a little chagrined, to have spent so much time with so little result. They enjoyed the girls, and Dr. Schmidt told them he was going to send them a book he'd written for children about the Chisos. Needless to say, they were eager for the book to arrive. The morning they left, Betsy and June took their sketchbooks down, asking them each to autograph the sketch he liked best. The men were very interested and wrote notes of encouragement as well. A few days later Helen Maxwell came up to invite Pete and me down to their house that evening for cocktails and a chicken dinner. Big Bend was hosting the annual meeting for the Region 4 Superintendents (the National Park Service superintendents from the Southwestern states). In addition to the superintendents, Mr. Tillotsen, the regional director, and Mr. Scoyen, the assistant regional director from Santa Fe, had arrived for the meeting. Ross had gone to Alpine to pick up Mr. Newton Drury, the National Park Service director from Washington. They were late in returning so Helen turned on the shortwave radio to entertain her overflowing houseful of guests with the evening news. Imagine our surprise to hear the shocking reports of President Roosevelt's death. Everyone was stunned by this unexpected news. The group grew silent as everyone strained to hear the words of that faraway reporter through the crackling interference. The park officials were very saddened by the president's death. Roosevelt had been a great supporter of the park service and their greatest ally in effecting the purchase of various parks and historic sites. Soon Ross arrived with Mr. Drury, who was everywhere

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 53

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 38

in demand. Mr. Drury wanted to talk pictures, but Pete suggested they wait until later, since so many others were milling around wanting to have him to themselves. However, he did tell Pete that Isabelle Story would be down soon and would get in touch with Pete regarding the film he was making to publicize the Big Bend. In a few days the park service meeting ended. Ross and his staff continued their difficult job of establishing the infrastructure for the important years ahead. Pete headed for the desert with new vigor. And I resumed my chores under the pifion pines as the girls began new sketches of "Bill, the burro with the bell."

Seven

THE BURROS WERE not the only creatures we dealt with. It seems as if we had a row of bottles, jars, and boxes under the trailer the entire summer. There were bugs and beetles to be sent off as specimens to one of Pete's friends for identification, or waiting to be photographed. The little insects didn't bother me, but the snakes for Dr. Schmidt were rather disconcerting, especially if they watched my ankles as I walked by. Pete caught one snake, a red racer. He put it in a gunnysack which he hung in the tree. In the cool of the morning it was a slow-moving, gentle snake and such a lovely pink that the girls were willing to be photographed stroking its head

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 54

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 38

in demand. Mr. Drury wanted to talk pictures, but Pete suggested they wait until later, since so many others were milling around wanting to have him to themselves. However, he did tell Pete that Isabelle Story would be down soon and would get in touch with Pete regarding the film he was making to publicize the Big Bend. In a few days the park service meeting ended. Ross and his staff continued their difficult job of establishing the infrastructure for the important years ahead. Pete headed for the desert with new vigor. And I resumed my chores under the pifion pines as the girls began new sketches of "Bill, the burro with the bell."

Seven

THE BURROS WERE not the only creatures we dealt with. It seems as if we had a row of bottles, jars, and boxes under the trailer the entire summer. There were bugs and beetles to be sent off as specimens to one of Pete's friends for identification, or waiting to be photographed. The little insects didn't bother me, but the snakes for Dr. Schmidt were rather disconcerting, especially if they watched my ankles as I walked by. Pete caught one snake, a red racer. He put it in a gunnysack which he hung in the tree. In the cool of the morning it was a slow-moving, gentle snake and such a lovely pink that the girls were willing to be photographed stroking its head

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 54

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

Pets 39

as it circled their shoulders like a piece of abstract jewelry. Even Patty was game, once she saw the others doing it. Pete had other pictures he wished to take before releasing it, but the little racer had plans of its own: it nosed a hole through the burlap sack and escaped that dark night never to be seen again. In the vicinity of the headquarters buildings the children often found horned toads (actually lizards, I would discover). They were slow-moving and gentle. After petting them a bit, and examining their rough spiky skin and round flat bodies, they carried them to the nearest red ant bed to watch them gobble up a few. The children sat back motionless on their haunches to watch. The "horny toads," as they called them, sat motionless in the middle of the ant bed. The ants, disturbed by the sudden intrusion, climbed on, over, and around the lizard's spikes. This was supposed to result in a long tongue protruding in a flash to scoop up an unsuspecting ant, but the lizard had more patience than the children and the kids soon went off to play, leaving "Sir Horny Toad" to his own devices. Upon their return the lizard would be gone and the ant colony back to business as usual. Mr. Poe, our raven baby, was brought home as a halfgrown chick and thrived on hamburger meat. He learned that it was dinner time when we tapped his food cup with a spoon. He would glide down from his limb in the pifion pine and open that beak of his, which always gave me a shock of surprise. I could look way down his throat and see how his tongue was fastened. I could almost see what he'd had for breakfast. He learned to walk by doing a few hop-hops now and then. It looked like he was doing a little dance.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 55

7/4/2012 9:24:59 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 40

Outside the park the ranchers were still hiring pilots to shoot eagles that they felt preyed upon their newborn lambs. Pete was photographing golden eagles up near Balmorhea (Bal-mor-dy), north of Alpine, one day when he located an eagle nest on a cliff. He waited for the adults to return to feed the chick, and after many hours had passed he determined that they'd probably been killed. The next day he went back, and with ropes and such he managed to swing across the cliff to the nest and rescue the young chick. It seemed that I was always ready to prepare a meat loaf when Pete walked in with a new creature. And here he was again, with a packing box full of noisy, hungry eaglet. It was so hungry there was no other option but to offer it my hamburger. The eaglet shed his downy-white baby feathers and grew hungrier by the day. Pete was hard-pressed to find enough jackrabbits or road kill along the highways to keep him nourished. By fall, Hercules had grown into a proud and haughty golden eagle who ruled our camp. We all respected that sharply curved beak and the wicked talons. The eagle was never restrained, so the girls were warned to keep away from him, especially if he was eating. They learned quickly: he would spread his wings protectively around his meal, hiss at them threateningly, and scare them with his "evil stare." When the time came, Pete taught Hercules toflyby taking him on Lone Peak, a small cone-shaped mountain in the center of the Basin. Pete threw the road kill off the mountain, and the eagle would have toflydown to it in order to feed. When Pete left on his lecture tour that fall, he took the eagle with him. Hercules flew out the car window somewhere along the highway. It soared high into the sky, circled once against the deep-blue sky, and then flew out of sight.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 56

7/4/2012 9:25:00 PM

The Livingston house is now roofless (1995), hut beyond it the creek, desert hills, and Del Carmen Mountains remain ever the same.

The desert foothills and the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend National Park

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 57

7/4/2012 9:25:00 PM

Century plants in bloom on the slopes of Casa Grande

Park service headquarters in the Basin was formerly a CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) camp. It is now the Basin Campground. Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 58

7/4/2012 9:25:00 PM

A quiet moment at our campsite in the Basin

Don Maxwell, Betsy, and Patty with Bambi and a park service burro near our campsite. Photo by W. Ray Scott, National Park Concessions, Inc.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 59

7/4/2012 9:25:00 PM

"Bill, the burro with the bell," considering June's sketch

Adobe dwellings and the foothills of the distant Chisos Mountains

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 60

7/4/2012 9:25:00 PM

The ceniza blooms several weeks after a heavy rainfall

Betsy visiting •£$
ee-tus), the best location for his departure. The truck was unloaded and I followed reluctantly as we trooped toward the riverbank, carrying the gear. Pete carried the raft proudly down the bank as several local residents joined the strange procession, whispering and shaking heir heads in wonder at the gringo with the raft of maguey stalks. "Poco loco," one mumbled as he watched Pete secure his bedroll and food bag and carefully tie the five-gallon milk can into place. The can contained the precious cameras and film and was watertight and buoyant enough that it would float . . . should need be. I smiled wanly as he waved a confident farewell to his international audience often and drifted toward the main channel of the Rio Grande, about ten miles upstream from Santa Elena. Through my tears I could not help but notice the buzzard that began circling above, curious about this strange piece of river flotsam. As he drifted out of sight beyond the river cane, we returned silently to the truck and the Basin. Four apprehensive days crept by. At last it was time for the Maxwells, the girls, and me to return to the river and reclaim Pete from the grasp of adventure. Helen packed a celebratory picnic dinner. After a snack we sat nervously on the ledge at the mouth of the Santa Elena Canyon waiting . . . listening . . . hoping. Hours passed. And then at last Ross saw the tiny craft drift into sunlight as Pete rounded the final bend. He looked infinitesimally small floating beneath the fifteen-hundred-foot cliffs that soared above him. We cheered, helloed, and whistled with enthusiasm. Pete in turn paddled slowly, calmly, ever nearer. At last

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 80

7/4/2012 9:25:03 PM

Mama

Has

a

Birthday

55

he raised a paddle to return our salute, and soon arrived, reclining casually against his bedroll and grinning broadly in victory. The journey was accomplished! Pete gave the children tethered rides on the raft: in the calm, shallow water at the canyon mouth, but he was more eager to talk to Ross about further excursions. He recounted his voyage in detail as we all gathered around the picnic baskets on the sandy shore. He described the rock formations, the discovery of a side canyon verdant with ferns, the awesome rapids. With a smile he admitted that his greatest obstacle was working up the courage to sit down on the cold, wet semisubmersible seat in the cold dawn of morning. He was full of enthusiasm at the prospect of using this adventure in his lectures, and he began plans to "navigate" the other canyons of the Big Bend in his Broken Blossom. He promised that someday I would see them too. I sighed in resignation and relief. For the moment, that was the least of my desires.

Twelve

lbs d Birthday MONDAY DAWNED A bit cloudy, but nevertheless the sun made itself peep out often enough to dash all hopes for a rain. We needed one so badly, but no rain appeared. All the blowing and lightning and thundering that went on had petered out and after a few muddy dribbles

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 81

7/4/2012 9:25:03 PM

Mama

Has

a

Birthday

55

he raised a paddle to return our salute, and soon arrived, reclining casually against his bedroll and grinning broadly in victory. The journey was accomplished! Pete gave the children tethered rides on the raft: in the calm, shallow water at the canyon mouth, but he was more eager to talk to Ross about further excursions. He recounted his voyage in detail as we all gathered around the picnic baskets on the sandy shore. He described the rock formations, the discovery of a side canyon verdant with ferns, the awesome rapids. With a smile he admitted that his greatest obstacle was working up the courage to sit down on the cold, wet semisubmersible seat in the cold dawn of morning. He was full of enthusiasm at the prospect of using this adventure in his lectures, and he began plans to "navigate" the other canyons of the Big Bend in his Broken Blossom. He promised that someday I would see them too. I sighed in resignation and relief. For the moment, that was the least of my desires.

Twelve

lbs d Birthday MONDAY DAWNED A bit cloudy, but nevertheless the sun made itself peep out often enough to dash all hopes for a rain. We needed one so badly, but no rain appeared. All the blowing and lightning and thundering that went on had petered out and after a few muddy dribbles

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 81

7/4/2012 9:25:03 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 56

the storm was over. So, Monday dawned. It was my birthday and wash day. I debated whether to have a birthday or a wash day, and decided in favor of the latter, since clothes were piling up — faster than my birthdays! In the midst of washing things out, I baked a cake. June and Betsy came dashing in all decked out in hiking clothes and with a lunch pack. They said they wanted to hike up to Juniper Flats, about a half-mile away, so off they went. Pete came in with the mail . . . we looked it over . . . and then he said "We're going down to the canyon this afternoon to get some pictures." I though he was going as usual with our "Lone Ranger," Pa Senter, and sadly replied, "Oh, dear, I was going to celebrate tonight and have Harry Linder come up for dinner. I've even baked a cake." "No, we're going to the canyon." Doesn't matter, I thought. Hmmmm. So that's all birthdays mean when you are forty something. I still thought he was going with the park ranger and said, "When are you leaving?" "Oh, when Patty wakes up. We can make it a family birthday picnic!" Now that was right up my alley. I just felt like some sort of celebration should be in order, feeling so full of pep. I wanted to take some really good birthday pictures of me with the kiddies to send home to Mother. Pete had just received a big order offilmand had promised that we could use a little of it on family photos. "Let's eat at the canyon," said Pete, "and then I have to go to Terlingua . . . " "No, let's eat at Terlingua. I heard they serve pretty good food in that Mexican cafe, if you can make them understand what we want."

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 82

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

Mama

Has

a

Birthday

57

"Oh, no," said Pete soberly. "Let's pack a lunch." Of course anything was agreeable to me in my holiday mood. And never did I suspect for a moment that he had planned a surprise party. Not even a twinkle in his eye betrayed him as I began getting things together. "I have some ground meat. I'll take some tomato sauce and we'll fix hamburgers," I said, "and I'll take the cake too . . . and coffee." Soon we flew around getting in each other's way. About this time the girls drifted in, happy but dirty, and had to go back out and wash. At last the girls were clean enough to suit me, for the picture. Then Pete began dressing and put on his good blue trousers and a shirt with long sleeves, for the picture. I put on fresh blue jeans. "Aren't you going to wear your nice slacks and the new blue blouse, for the pictures?" he asked. "And your other shoes, those look so bad." At last I dressed as he had suggested and we were off. We reached Santa Elena Canyon, and no sooner had we unpacked things preparatory to cooking supper than a storm blew up. "My heavens!" I cried. "We're here four months without rain and the first time we plan a celebration picnic a storm blows up!" So the clouds threatened, and the trees began bowing and scraping, and the sky became blacker, and we finally cooked things in a raging fire, and then we gobbled our sandwiches of hot hamburgers in tomato sauce (Oh how good!) with one eye on the clouds. Earlier I had suggested we stop at Bill Dunnington's, head of the state highway road crew. He had a house on the "flat," and sometimes had fresh eggs. Pete agreed but said he had to go to Terlingua first.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 83

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL

Well, on the way back we came to the road camp, a row of four or five tiny cabins in the hot sun. "Aren't you going to stop at Dunnington's?" I asked, amazed that we were passing up the road camp and dozens of fresh eggs at the same time. "Not now!" Well, life can be so puzzling at times. On we went. We came to Study Butte (Stew-ty Beaut) and stopped at the little store, but it was closed, so we went on to Lupe's where you can sometimes get bread and maybe a few eggs. Pete got out and went in. As he returned I heard him ask, "What time is it?" "I don't know," said Lupe's wife. "Do you have any idea about what time it is?" said he. "No, I don't." Well, when Pete climbed into the car, I said smartly, "Why worry about what time it is? It doesn't make any difference. Nobody's going anyplace." Then, thinking that maybe he really did want to know, I added: "It's probably about eight." Not far away was what in those days was locally known as the "Big Bend Nite Club." It was a boxy little rock building with wooden tables and tin cans for glasses; cases of beer were stacked conveniently near the refrigerator. You could also buy soft drinks there, and whenever we were thirsty we wished we were at Polk Hinson's place. Polk had a generator, so the biggest draw was the jukebox. Most of the tunes and lyrics were Spanish for the local trade, but it was a jukebox. It sat right in the middle of the room and the dancers all moved around it counterclockwise. Those not dancing sat in a bordering row of folding chairs to watch. As we neared Polk's the children were immediately seized

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 84

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

Mama

Has

a

Birthday

5 9

with thirst and kept asking Pete, "pleeeeze stop at Polk's, will ya? Can we? We want a Dr. Pepper, pleeeeze?" Well, he finally said OK and we drove up. All of us climbed out and raced for the door. When I opened it and stepped inside, my first impression, before my eyes adjusted to the light, was that all the tables were taken up by local Mexicans. Then my eyes lit on Harry Linder and Ma and Pa Senter. "Well, look who's here!" I cried delighted. "Fancy meeting you here!" I chirped. "Well, if it ain't the Senters," I gurgled, and all this time I stood right over a big-as-life birthday cake that said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY KOCH." They all laughed, and suddenly it dawned on me that it was a surprise party, all planned in advance! My thoughts immediately flew to the difficulties Pete had in getting me dressed up properly and how embarrassed I would have been in my jeans with dough on my blouse. From that moment on, it was a whirl of events. Me dancing with Pete. Me dancing with Harry. Me dancing without an asthmatic wheeze! Harry and I even did the schottisch folk dance which he hurriedly taught me to the tune of "Put Your Little Foot." Well, Harry and I put our little feet all over the floor, and everybody stopped to watch. I'm sure that night the Mexicans saw their polkas danced as they had never seen them danced before. Next were the movies. Pete had promised everyone weeks before that he would show the films in which they had graciously participated: a Rio Grande fish fry, mail day at Hot Springs, and other desert scenes. The crowd squealed with delight, and laughed and kidded each other as they saw themselves on the screen. For them it was the main event of the evening.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 85

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 60

Later, others Pete knew and worked with joined us for beer and homemade tamales and, finally, the birthday cake. Everybody seemed in the best of spirits. Even I was glad I'd had a birthday.

Thirteen

Ike Winter of Change WE WERE GOING to picnic at Hot Springs! The children were excited, for Hot Springs meant a river to wade in, sand, and a store for candy. It had been awhile since we'd been on a family excursion in our Chevy. The tires were very worn and we were far down on the waiting list for new ones at the dealership in Alpine. But Pete checked them carefully and attached the canvas water bag to the car frame while I readied the children, and soon we were on our way. "This desert country," I mused as we drove down Green Gulch. "How peaceful. What beauty in its sweeping vista of bright soil, broken only by clumps of mesquite, creosote, and ceniza now bursting into bloom. What a strange interlude these past months have been, living in the Big Bend, a life so different from the life we'd been born to and thought would never change. How strange the circumstances and coincidences that turn one's direction to unfamiliar paths, to new lands, new situations, new life." Pete's voice cut through the children's backseat chatter.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 86

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 60

Later, others Pete knew and worked with joined us for beer and homemade tamales and, finally, the birthday cake. Everybody seemed in the best of spirits. Even I was glad I'd had a birthday.

Thirteen

Ike Winter of Change WE WERE GOING to picnic at Hot Springs! The children were excited, for Hot Springs meant a river to wade in, sand, and a store for candy. It had been awhile since we'd been on a family excursion in our Chevy. The tires were very worn and we were far down on the waiting list for new ones at the dealership in Alpine. But Pete checked them carefully and attached the canvas water bag to the car frame while I readied the children, and soon we were on our way. "This desert country," I mused as we drove down Green Gulch. "How peaceful. What beauty in its sweeping vista of bright soil, broken only by clumps of mesquite, creosote, and ceniza now bursting into bloom. What a strange interlude these past months have been, living in the Big Bend, a life so different from the life we'd been born to and thought would never change. How strange the circumstances and coincidences that turn one's direction to unfamiliar paths, to new lands, new situations, new life." Pete's voice cut through the children's backseat chatter.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 86

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

The

Winter

of

Change

61

"Let's talk to Maggy today," he said crisply, "about next winter." "What about next winter?" My musings scattered. I sat upright, disturbed. "I was thinking that while I'm on the lecture tour you and the children could stay at Hot Springs," he said. "Hot Springs!" My blood paused in its headlong rush to compensate for the surprise that shook me. Suddenly my feelings about Hot Springs were identifiable with those of most visitors in the early years of Big Bend National Park. A fine place, Hot Springs, for wading in the river or picknicking under a mesquite tree—and a good place to leave at twilight. This was a far cry from the plans we'd made before leaving Ohio for our Western adventure, and I could not but indulge in a moment of self-pity. I thought we'd be leaving Big Bend soon to settle somewhere in Arizona for the winter. Even now my cousin, Josephine Schwarz, was making plans to join us there, in a picturesque town close to the essentials of modern living. It had never entered my mind that we would be without a telephone or nearby doctor during Pete's absence in the nine months ahead. But here—Hot Springs! This I had not bargained for. "It's a logical place for you to stay," Pete went on. "The store carries enough staple groceries to get by on. It's a great place for the kids. Mrs. Smith's on hand if needed, visitors are in the cabins, you can get what you need when the mail truck comes down from Marathon each week. Park service folks are only thirty miles away in case of emergency. Jo can come here as well as to Arizona. It's an ideal setup." "Hmmm. You've thought it all out. You've already decided." I repeatedly lamely. "Hot Springs? But I . . . I . . . want to go to Arizona."

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 87

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 62

"There's no use moving on if you can find a place here for the winter. The climate is wonderful, and you know people here. It's not as if you'd be among strangers. And you know that you are feeling better, and are breathing much easier these days." "AH the right answers," I thought. But aloud I could only repeat, "Hot Springs?" My alarm by this time had produced small hysterical fears, the subconscious fears of a city-dweller faced with the thought of isolation such as this would be—this end of the world. Hot Springs? I'd heard tourists call it a "jumping-off place," "godforsaken," and at this moment I agreed with them. But my own fears had nothing of the subconscious in them, they floated and congealed, and dangled before my unspoken thoughts, taking on reality and fearful weight. "You expect the children and me to live there . . . so far away from everyone . . . from every thing . . . with no car . . . no telephone . . . no doctor? Suppose the children got sick . . . or bitten by a rattlesnake. How could I take care of them? What could I do? Even if I had a car, it's a four-hour drive to Marathon, and if the creeks were running . . . or we had a flat. . ." "Why do you worry about things that aren't likely to happen?" Pete cut in impatiently. "You can't camp on a doctor's doorstep. As for rattlesnakes, the children have learned to be cautious. Besides, Mrs. Smith lives there; it's not the end of the world." I assured myself there must be precautions against exposing the children to hazards that may be critical if not fatal. So I was torn between loyalty to Pete and my desire to protect the children from any foreseeable danger. We argued, but Pete emerged from our discussion by discounting all the dangers I enumerated. The thought of the kids and me here in West Texas —

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 88

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

The

Winter

of

Change

63

all alone —left my skin crawling. My years of confinement to couch and chair with asthma had left me leery and illprepared to confront such primitive living. But there was no alternative, and I tried to build enthusiasm for our winter adventure in the rough. Silently I conceded we wouldn't want to camp on any doctor's doorstep; I conceded the unlikelihood of a snake attack on the children (even if they weren't cautious); and I conceded that "other people live there"; but I could not concede there was nothing to worry about. Especially since I am a deep-down worrier. So, with a tart remonstrance to the children to quiet down, and a misty-eyed, brooding survey of the hot dry desert stretching lonely and silently over the miles ahead, I sat in deep thought. Only moments ago I had sighed over the peace and beauty of this same desert that now seemed to threaten me. Kerosene stove! Oil lamps! Snakes and scorpions and centipedes! It was thirteen hundred miles to our Ohio home and family, eighty miles to the nearest doctor, the nearest telephone booth! Incredible! By the time we had jounced down the last rocky mile to the trading post, my blood pressure had dropped to normal and I tried to shift mental gears in an attempt to look optimistically to the winter as a great adventure. Pete, the dreamer and planner, the soul of optimism, was also a dauntless and courageous man of action. No goal he ever set for himself had been unattainable. I realized that this was not the moment to falter. I must renew my confidence and rekindle the enthusiasm and eagerness in this new career he was undertaking. When we turned in at the trading post and parked beside Maggy's cream-colored cow, I was once more in possession of my own spirit of adventure. Maggy listened to our request with understanding and

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 89

7/4/2012 9:25:04 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 64

enthusiasm, promising to rent us the house on the hill for the months we would need it; at least until Pete's return from his lecture tour in the spring. The children, of course, were ecstatic. Would we really live here . . . in this wonderful place . . . with the cow and chickens and the dog, Blueberry, and the horse, Brew Wagon, and the sand to play in and the bluffs to climb and the store? All of this was expressed in the excitement that seized them. They were here, up there, in the water, on the bluff, and of course always just beyond heed to Mama's frantic call to watch out for rattlesnakes. We looked up at the house on the hill—"Livingston house." It was named for the Alpine family who had built it years before. It was a large native-flagstone structure, unadorned, but giving the impression of protective strength. There was a wide screened porch the entire length of it, which was the most exciting feature of the house, great for outdoor living, outdoor sleeping. We'd been in the house once before, but now with the prospect of calling it ours, we eagerly climbed the hill for a closer look. It was not a long climb, nor steep, just a hot one that day, and we stepped gratefully through the screen door onto the cool, breezy porch overlooking the trading post, the river valley, and the distant Sierra del Carmen mountain range in Mexico. The view was enchanting, but at the moment we did not stay to admire it; we were eager to get a new appraisal of this prospective home and its needs. It was quite empty of furnishings, but Maggy had promised to get the few essentials: a two-burner kerosene stove, table, chairs, beds. These, with the scant furnishings we could detach from the trailer, would have to suffice. So what if the cement floor was cracked, and the ceiling a plateau of packing cartons tacked in place. So what if the room looked too large and empty; it would be a welcome change from the

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 90

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

The

Winter

of

Change

65

cramped quarters of our twenty-three-foot trailer. It was spacious enough to allow us elbow room and the joy of coming and going without jostling each other out of the way, unlike our house on wheels. Yes, the house on the hill would do. Pete suggested we brighten the bare walls with a mural, artists though we were not. It sounded great to me and would certainly touch up the bleakness of the large room. I stood at the window looking down on the children playing near the river's edge, to the desert beyond the river, to the Sierra del Carmen against the horizon, shutting us into this desert valley as surely as it exiled us from the familiar scenes of home. Again, fear crept about me . . . a cold wet shawl of doubt. Watching the children at the river, I sensed danger in the shadows of the rocks, in the reflections of the water, in the thorny mesquite, on the high bluff overhanging the river. How could one meet emergencies with no means of communication, no transportation, and no man of the house to depend on. Again I thought of Pete's confident "You'll manage." My job now was to make the best of a new environment, protect the children from mishaps as best I could, and continue to recover from the asthma that had been my problem for so many years. If they only knew it, I thought with chagrin, the children will be in for some coping, too: tin-can meals, rationed drinking water, and a mother who lacked confidence. When the turmoil in my heart quieted once more, I stood by the window. I had never beheld anything in a city skyscraper as majestic as the mountain range beyond, nor anything as peaceful and relaxed as the little trading post drowsing in the sun. "Yes, I'll manage," I thought, and put an arm through Pete's as he joined me. "I guess we'd better order the Calvert correspondence course for the children this year." His smile and the twinkle in his eye reassured me, and

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 91

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 66

suddenly all seemed right with my world. Epecially when June's voice came loud and clear from the riverbank, "Hey, Mom! When're we gonna eat?"

Fourteen

Reflections on the Rio Grande AFTER OUR TOUR of the house on the hill we walked down to the river. I kicked off my shoes and settled in the shade of a gnarled mesquite to think more clearly about our winter plans. Pete went back to the store for lunch snacks and the girls headed for the creek to build a dam and catch minnows. I was left to think again about the circumstances that brought us here. From my blanket under the mesquite tree I realized how much the twisted limbs resembled the turns my life had taken this past year. I recalled the day in Ohio when the children and I were sitting snowbound and snug before our blazing fireplace, spinning dreams of Arizona and the Golden West. There would be no more snow, no more icy blasts, no more snowsuits or galoshes. Just lots of warm, wide, free country where, if I were lucky, there would be no more frightening asthma attacks, no more doctors or medicines that didn't seem to help. I would be able to walk, to work, and perhaps even hike a mountain trail with the children. I remembered other dreams, too, centered on advertise-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 92

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 66

suddenly all seemed right with my world. Epecially when June's voice came loud and clear from the riverbank, "Hey, Mom! When're we gonna eat?"

Fourteen

Reflections on the Rio Grande AFTER OUR TOUR of the house on the hill we walked down to the river. I kicked off my shoes and settled in the shade of a gnarled mesquite to think more clearly about our winter plans. Pete went back to the store for lunch snacks and the girls headed for the creek to build a dam and catch minnows. I was left to think again about the circumstances that brought us here. From my blanket under the mesquite tree I realized how much the twisted limbs resembled the turns my life had taken this past year. I recalled the day in Ohio when the children and I were sitting snowbound and snug before our blazing fireplace, spinning dreams of Arizona and the Golden West. There would be no more snow, no more icy blasts, no more snowsuits or galoshes. Just lots of warm, wide, free country where, if I were lucky, there would be no more frightening asthma attacks, no more doctors or medicines that didn't seem to help. I would be able to walk, to work, and perhaps even hike a mountain trail with the children. I remembered other dreams, too, centered on advertise-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 92

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

Reflections

on the Rio 67

Grande

ments I read in Arizona Highways magazine and the Flagstaff newspaper, to which we had subscribed to orient ourselves to Western living. Ranches for sale. Cheap! I had pored over these announcements eagerly, vowing to purchase that chicken ranch for "only" $200 (although what I knew about chickens wouldn't fill an eggshell). I could hardly wait, those days, for Pete to return from work at the Cincinnati Times Star newspaper, where he was chief photographer, so we could discuss these bargains. I was ready to choose that chicken ranch sight unseen. But his practical reply did not dampen my ardor. When he said "There's probably no water on the place" I was unconvinced. "No water?" I snorted. "Whoever heard of a place with no water!" And Texas! Texas had always been for me a movie set. A place wild and improbable; a setting where Roy Rogers or Gene Autry could stride down dusty, unpaved streets. A place of flimsy barrooms peopled by six-footers with six-shooters. And here I was in this remote unlikely spot on the Rio Grande at the southern tip of Big Bend National Park. Now it seemed that before the year ended I would become a hardy modern pioneer. From the sheltered life of a city girl of moderate circumstances, I too would have to face the reality of frontier living. My confusion and regrets melted slightly in the warming sun. The quiet murmur of water rippling over the stones and a strange aura of enchantment began to calm my fears. "Mama, can we take off our shoes and wade in the river?" called June from the water's edge. "Please, Mama, can't we?" begged Betsy. "Sure, go ahead," shouted Pete approaching with an armload of canned beans, Vienna sausages, and soft drinks,

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 93

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 68

and with a loaf of bread tucked in the crook of one elbow. Cautioning the children to stay where the river bottom was clearly visible, I waded across the shallow riffles where the river divided to form a small island, allowing easy access to the Mexican shore. Looking back across the stream, I watched the three children rejoicing in their new playground. Ecstatic as usual with the sandy shore, two-yearold Patty sat sifting sand from one chubby hand to the other, patting heaps of it into mounds that would become castles when the other girls joined her. Betsy, pigtails askew and face already browned from exposure to the Texas sun, waded close to shore, her eightyear-old voice chanting with glee as she gathered brightcolored gems from the riverbed . . . small stones of jade, amber, and blue . . . sparkling and dripping water as she cupped them in her hands. June, with the authority of a twelve-year-old was exploring Tornillo creek beyond the golden bluff that divided the creek from the Rio Grande. And Pete? Well, he had vanished from sight down the river trail, his Leica camera on one shoulder, to check photographic possibilities for a second travel-adventure movie of life in the desert wilderness of the Big Bend country. Shortly after our decision to rent the Livingston house at Hot Springs I wrote confidently to my cousin, Josephine Schwarz, of the change in our winter plans. Jo was the founder and director of the Schwarz School of Dance in Dayton, Ohio, but she had arranged for a sabbatical from the ballet school to work on a manuscript about children's dance and theater. Hoping to escape the winter weather in Dayton, she planned to join us in some warm, quiet spot out west where she could write and we would have time together to share our mutual interests of theater, books, and music. Cautiously, hoping that she would not cancel her plans, I wrote:

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 94

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

Reflections

on the 69

Rio

Grande

. . . our plans have changed. The children and I are going to stay right here in Big Bend for the winter. We will be at Hot Springs, thirty miles from the Basin, on the Rio Grande. It has the best climate anywhere around here for the winter, and that is of primary importance. Ross Maxwell, the superintendent of the park, said he'd see that you get to the park when you come, for I mentioned you would need transportation. Pete suggests we stay in the Basin until cool weather sets in, and then go on down to Hot Springs. We plan to leave the trailer in the mountains. By having a trailer in the Chisos, we can always hop the park truck on one of its frequent Hot Springs patrol trips and come up into the mountains for a spell. Of course it means bouncing in the back of the truck for thirty miles in the blazing sun. But it is such fun going places after weeks and weeks of being stationed. Last night Pete suggested I tell you to come as soon as you can. H e will leave in the early part of September. If you come early, he can show you some of the country hereabouts when he's out on his picture-taking excursions: Santa Elena Canyon, Boquillas and all the other interesting desert spots we've found in our wanderings. About mail: Tell your folks not to send either air mail or special delivery letters. There is little success in anything reaching you quickly since the mail is delivered only on Mondays. We can order magazines and reading material with our weekly grocery order since the Greens will do shopping for me in Marathon. They can send us everything from postage stamps to socks for the baby. I have almost learned the exact order to place for a week's eating, and of course if we run short, Mrs. Smith has something on hand. She also serves meals so we won't starve. Besides that, I must say that Rio Grande catfish is something to write

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 95

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 70

m^c/e a sketch of Hot Springs to include in her letters home

home about. They can weigh upwards of 80 pounds, and are sweet as can be. About clothes. I don't know what the winter temperatures will be but doubt if it ever gets below 30° at night or before sun-up. When this Texas sun gets up it really heats everything through. No atmospheric smog to dilute it! You might send your duffle bag whenever it is ready. Express it to Marathon. It may take longer to get here than

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 96

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

The

Spa 71

by regular train, so you'd better ship it ahead of time. It will have to wait in Marathon, you see, until someone can pick it up with the truck. When they go in cars they are usually full of people and may not have room for hauling. Final plans were confimed through our letters. Her decision to come for an extended stay of three months did much to calm my fears about our long winter at Hot Springs.

Fifteen

The 5pd FROM THE PARK superintendent, Ross Maxwell, we learned more about the history of Hot Springs. Indians and Mexicans had lived and farmed near these warm springs for centuries and knew of the healing waters, but the site became the homestead of J. O. Langford in 1909. Langford built a rock house on the bluff overlooking the Rio Grande for his young family. He also constructed a primitive bathhouse by the springs below the bluff, hoping to find a cure for his own ailments. In 1914 the Mexican bandit and revolutionary Pancho Villa and his followers began disturbances along the border, and the Langfords and other homesteaders in the area thought it wise to abandon their land. It would be ten years before the border troubles ceased and the Langfords could return to their home on the Rio Grande. It was then, in the late 1920's, that J. O. Langford constructed the rock bath-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 97

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

The

Spa 71

by regular train, so you'd better ship it ahead of time. It will have to wait in Marathon, you see, until someone can pick it up with the truck. When they go in cars they are usually full of people and may not have room for hauling. Final plans were confimed through our letters. Her decision to come for an extended stay of three months did much to calm my fears about our long winter at Hot Springs.

Fifteen

The 5pd FROM THE PARK superintendent, Ross Maxwell, we learned more about the history of Hot Springs. Indians and Mexicans had lived and farmed near these warm springs for centuries and knew of the healing waters, but the site became the homestead of J. O. Langford in 1909. Langford built a rock house on the bluff overlooking the Rio Grande for his young family. He also constructed a primitive bathhouse by the springs below the bluff, hoping to find a cure for his own ailments. In 1914 the Mexican bandit and revolutionary Pancho Villa and his followers began disturbances along the border, and the Langfords and other homesteaders in the area thought it wise to abandon their land. It would be ten years before the border troubles ceased and the Langfords could return to their home on the Rio Grande. It was then, in the late 1920's, that J. O. Langford constructed the rock bath-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 97

7/4/2012 9:25:05 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 72

house, cabins, store, and post office. He successfully advertised the new spa in local newspapers, and many people in West Texas came to try the healing waters. Langford operated the remote outpost until the State of Texas purchased the land prior to the creation of Big Bend National Park in 1944 and once again he was forced to leave. The last mile or two of road into Hot Springs was a oneway loop, so vehicles entered by one road and left: by the other. This "divided highway" was little more than twin paths of broken flagstone. It was so narrow that passengers would involuntarily duck when driven along the hill with its jutting flagstone ledges. In its youth, the road had a wall of stacked flagstone on the downhill side, a sort of barrier, but most of it had fallen into the ravine. Indeed, the road when we were there was such a narrow rocky affair that it was advisable to drive in low gear if the car was low-slung or the driver city-bred. Considering the long years these roads had been in service, it was amazing to find them still traversable. Of course, after a storm you might drop into a sudden pothole where the road had washed, or find that a huge boulder had risen mysteriously from the roadbed since you'd last been by. I never got over holding my breath as we bumped along; however, many of the ranchers and other folk familiar with this country drove confidently, guided I was sure by blind instinct. There were times I witnessed some old-timer, high on tequila, careening along, scarcely missing the overhanging ledges on his right or the ravine of thorny vegetation on his left. The store/post office was a square structure of native flagstone, typical of the area. It had a low tin roof, plastered interior walls, and casement windows. A few cacti and native grasses persisted at the doorways, relieving its otherwise austere angles. Above it all hung the dusty faded "HOT

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 98

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

The

Spa 73

SPRINGS POST OFFICE" sign. Around the main entrance were large, round riverstones the children knew must be petrified dinosaur eggs. The broad, flat plaza of well-packed caliche between the store and the creek was used as parking for cars and horses as well as play space for kids and chickens. Indoors and to the right, the grocery section of the store displayed shelves of innumerable items necessary to those who lived along the Rio Grande. The stock ranged from Baby Percy cough syrup to sardines; from cones (pilones) of raw brown sugar to bandana handkerchiefs. There were huge jars of candies (dulces) and chewing gum (chicles), stacks of shoestrings and socks, tins of tobacco and baking powder, sacks of flour and cornmeal, and of course a goodly supply of pinto beans which Maggy sold for eight cents a pound or "three pounds for a quarter" in spite of customer objection. There was also a fair assortment of handmade articles the Mexicans brought in for trade: braided leather quirts, ropes and morrales (nosebags) woven of twisted agave fiber. The children never tired of peering into the glass cases for a new and interesting item. In a far corner was a series of divided spaces into which Maggy put mail for the area residents until they came to claim it in the weeks or months ahead. The store provided unlimited entertainment for us Yankees, especially when transactions at the counter produced such a flow of border Spanish as to tilt the pictures on the walls. The rest of the building was a large living-kitchenbedroom combination divided by partitions or curtains, as needed. The living room was open to all who came and was lined with assorted chairs and a wicker divan. The walls were beginning to show a little age where the plaster was crumbling, and the wooden floor trembled under too much activity; but the building was sturdy and provided a cool

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 99

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 74

haven for anyone venturing to Hot Springs on a hot summer day. Down the slope below the store was the well. Imagine, if you can, lowering a bucket into the water below and hauling it up again, full and dripping. After filling the communal dipper with a mouthful of the clear, sweet water it was wise to close your eyes when lifting the tin cup to your lips so as not to know if it was flavored by small insect or invertebrate. Beside the well grew a struggling palm tree, striving for supremacy above the native mesquite and willows. Its spreading fronds gave delicate shade, and its mere presence lent the scene a romantic tropical atmosphere. Nearby, against the hill, were half a dozen rock cabins. Strung along a row under a roof of corrugated tin and carrizo cane, the cabins were small, whitewashed cubicles with large windows overlooking Tornillo Creek as it merged with the Rio Grande. At the far end of the line of cabins was the outhouse. There was only room in the cabins for a double bed, a dresser of nondescript appearance, a chair and table, and a small wood-burning stove that provided a minimum of comfort on a wintry day. The years brought little change to the general appearance of the cabins except where a few visitors felt compelled to brighten the interior with colorful paint, calendars, and an occasional print or two. One individual added a special touch when she painted the head of a horse on the wall next to the bed. This might have proved a bit startling to later visitors waking on a moonlit night to the probing gaze of a stallion at pillow's edge. Beyond the cabins a sandy trail led to the east around the bluff and along the Rio Grande for a half-mile or so to the bathhouse, concealed in a cluster of river cane and willows on the riverbank. It was perhaps twenty-by-twenty feet and housed a few large cement tubs, which the years and mil-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 100

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

The

Spa 75

lions of gallons of water had stained a rusty black or bilious green from minerals flowing through them at 105°F. These were healing waters. Langford, in earlier days, had advertised the waters far and wide as a panacea for such ailments as arthritis, rheumatism, skin disease, and other afflictions. Whether or not the springs were actually the cure-all claimed, it is a fact that a good soak in the hot water made a new man of you, or woman, as the case may be. As for drinking from the tin cup chained to the exterior wall of the bathhouse . . . well, if that drink with its mineral taste and liquid heat didn't accomplish some good for anyone who drank it, the illusion was there. You mysteriously felt revived from whatever slump you'd been in. Baths cost a quarter each, with towel. However, the recommended cure for arthritics was a "course of 21 baths" for $30. After you picked up your towel at the store and headed along the dusty trail to the bathhouse, you might encounter a rattlesnake under a sheltering bush or perhaps a naked bather in the tub. The rattlesnakes disappeared on their own, but it was customary when approaching the bathhouse to yell "Anybody in there?"

No reply meant you were probably alone, and might proceed safely down the flight of stone steps into the square interior. In the steamy gloom, one could barely see the cement floor. The ceiling was patched here and there with wedges of cardboard cartons. A good breeze entered the apertures above the tubs, so it was wise not to bathe on a cold, windy morning if you were a timid soul. Above it all was a roof of corrugated tin that flapped and whistled noisily on windy days.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 101

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

The Tornillo Flat area of Big Bend. The Chisos Mountains are silhouetted in the background.

Etta's birthday at Polk Hinsons place (1945) Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 102

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

Etta and Polk visit on the breezeway of his store at Study Butte

An early-day postcard of Maggy Smith outside the Hot Springs post office and store

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 103

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

The Rio Grande, looking toward the bluffs at Hot Springs.

Betsy, Patty, and June on their way to play in Tornillo Creek

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 104

7/4/2012 9:25:06 PM

Etta on a sketching hike in the Chisos Basin, Photo by Reese Sholly.

The route up Mt. Bailey as marked (dotted line) by Herb Conn. Jan Conn (left) and Etta enjoy a rest halfway to the top. Photos by Herb Conn.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 105

7/4/2012 9:25:07 PM

personnel file photo of Etta when she began work for the park service in the fall of 1946. Photo by Wilbourn Studio, Alpine.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 106

7/4/2012 9:25:07 PM

J.o. Langford and Maggy Smith at the Hot Springs store (1946)

The Livingston house at Hot Springs

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 107

7/4/2012 9:25:07 PM

Inside the Livingston house on moving day

Josephine and a local child wait for the mail truck to arrive

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 108

7/4/2012 9:25:07 PM

Left: Maggy assists Patty and her backseat partner, Blueberry Below: The original Madonna of the Desert as Etta painted it on the wall of the Hot Springs store

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 109

7/4/2012 9:25:07 PM

The saguaro, boy, and his donkey painted by Etta in her kitchen and in Maggy's kitchen

Wt

P^ty feeds

her cookie to Bambi while Chiquita | looks on in envy

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 110

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

at the "house on the hill"

in ^o gather for the Monday-morning mail truck

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 111

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Maggy waiting on customers at the Hot Springs store

Senora Celaya and * her son in San Vicente

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 112

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Left: Petra Celaya talking to her pet goat Below: Jose Diaz assisted Maggy with many chores

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 113

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Left: Betsy takes Chiquita dO7*sn to tf?£-

well for water Below: Manuel would often sing and play his guitar for us in the cool evenings

»

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 114

•

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Borderland musicians played for a gathering at Maggy's

Springs, 1946. Tornillo Creek ctt the bottom, the Rio Grande at the right, and a new windmill in the middle.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 115

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Jo, Betsy, and Patty washing clothes in Tomillo Creek

The Tomillo Creek pool where we washed clothes has changed little in fifty years

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 116

7/4/2012 9:25:08 PM

Our first park service apartment, with our trailer pulled alongside to provide storage and an extra bedroom. Our quarters went only to the wooden stairs; the rest of the building was the old mess hall, which became a community hall for dances and other social events.

One exceptional winter day in the Chisos Mountain

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 117

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

Sixteen

Into the Limestone Lodge MOVING DAY. The day we would lock up our trailer home in the mountains and transfer ourselves and belongings to Hot Springs. It was November 1945, and the Chisos winds blew cold. On this particular morning, however, there was such a flutter of activity around the trailer, such a going in and out; such a carrying and arguing, and settling of questions, we had no time to notice. Only the inquisitive, noisy jays in the pinon trees grouped themselves around us to scold and criticize. What to take. What not to take. "The Park," as we collectively called the park service officials, had promised to help us move on the day a routine patrol was made to Hot Springs, since Pete had left several weeks earlier to begin his lecture tour. "Mom," asked June, lugging the thirty-pound dog-eared falling-apart Webster's unabridged dictionary to the door, "Are we going to take this?" "Sure! Patty will need it to sit on." We called it the "seat of learning," since it served as a high chair when placed on a stool, boosting Patty high enough to reach the table comfortably. Besides, it was in constant use for the purposes intended, as well. Betsy was busy collecting schoolbooks and crayons, playing cards and games; and Patty stumbled in and out under our arms and feet, with toys of her own selection. Josephine, called "Jo" by all, arrived, just as we had planned, on the mail truck one Monday in October. She

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 118

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

Into

t h e L i m e s t o n e

Lodge

77

had glued a postage stamp to her forehead complete with a pencilled cancellation. She spent her first few weeks in the Basin just down the road in one of the tourist cabins. Full of stories from home, she was a favorite with all three of the children, and her good humor on this moving day helped keep the portage moving smoothly and my nerves in check. The truck was ready, and at last so were we. Clothes, blankets, pillows, and boxes of dishes, foods, pots and pans found their way into the truck bed along with June and Betsy and our orphan deer, Bambi. Bambi had become our newest family member some weeks before when we found her, near death, not far from our campsite. Her mother lay not far away, dead of disease or from the drought. We nourished Bambi on a baby bottle that Helen brought us. It didn't take long before she was able to browse around the trailer. Bambi had grown a great deal, but was still too young to be abandoned in the mountains as prey to some hungry mountain lion. So into the truck she did go, wide-eyed and kicking. She was secured to the sideboards of the truck in a makeshift halter, to protect her during the thirty-five mile drive over the dusty, unpaved road to Hot Springs. Patty slept on my lap as the pickup ascended the switchbacks of the mountain road, topped the divide, and dropped down into Green Gulch. From my seat—wedged between Hank Glasscock, the new park ranger, and Josephine— qualms of uncertainty enveloped me again. I hugged Patty to me in a spasm of mixed emotions. It had been difficult enough living through that moment of parting with Pete in September, the girls claiming a last kiss from Daddy, their Mom attempting a bravado that was only smile-deep. I recalled that moment when he drove out of sight around the mountain curve, and the realization of our aloneness

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 119

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL

swept over me. Only the normal demands of children needing reassurance kept me steady, and in turn I sought refuge in their normalcy. June, just twelve, was already a young woman, capable beyond her years, and I leaned on her heavily. Always dependable and conscientious, I trusted her with the responsibility of the two younger children when they were beyond my vision, at play. Her judgment was sound and often led to resentment by the younger ones; but it was she to whom they turned for direction, too. When they lamented on a day that turned out dull for them that "there's nothing to do when it rains . . . What can we do?" I turned to June impatiently with a remark that suggested, "Why, with all the books, all the toys, all the games, can't you find something to do?" June finally solved the problem, and a happy peace resulted. Her inventive genius and creative talent found ready release in those days so far from dime stores, drugstores, and bookstores. Betsy sang loudly in the back of the truck, her gay young voice reaching me even above the noisy rattle of gears and motor, and brought a quick smile to my lips. Carefree, eightyear-old Betsy! If June with her wonderful sense of responsibility supplied the stability the children needed, Betsy supplied the amusement. "Bet'y sing," Patty would demand, "Sing, Bet'y!" And Betsy, always ready to oblige the baby, would sing in a high-pitched key that not one of us could reach, even as she went on with whatever play she was engaged in. Betsy's preferences drew her from irksome chores at hand, and she could become completely absorbed in whatever pastime intrigued her at the moment, completely oblivious of those around her. Summoning her from her happy pursuits or daydreaming took persistence and not a little patience. Eventually, however, she would surrender, with a shrug and a smile and a song.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 120

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

Into

t h e L i m e s t o n e

L o d g e

7 9

Patricia ("Princess Pat" was my nickname for our sovereign) ruled us in spite of herself. Her demands were those of any normal two-year-old; but she charmed us into captivity with chains of love and a disposition that accepted with complete unconcern our aburpt changes in mode of living. Now, as she dozed on my lap, these thoughts tumbled through my daydreams, and I felt comforted in the knowledge that for them I would somehow find courage to continue this new phase of our family life. Excitement mounted as we neared our destination. Soon we drew up at the base of the hill where our "lodge" awaited us. Maggy was there to greet us. Everyone tumbled out of the truck and pitched in carrying armloads of clothes, books, luggage, and other impediments up the hill. The children could hardly contain themselves, so eager were they to be freed from any demands upon them. So it was with difficulty that I held them in check long enough to set down the boxes of possessions in the center of the big room so Jo and I could begin putting things in order. The house consisted of one large room with a fireplace at one end and a stove flue at the other; so these two portions of the house were instantly identifable as living room and kitchen. In fact, Maggy had placed a two-burner kerosene stove on a small table near the kitchen door at the north end of the house. She also brought a table, several chairs, and a few shelves that we could use for utensils, dishes, and groceries. There was no refrigerator in our house, but Maggy offered us space in hers for leftovers or essentials whenever it was necessary. The rest of the room would be our general living quarters, with beds at strategic points of interest and necessity. The principal double bed, which would be a divan during the day, we placed near the windows and close to the fireplace in anticipation of many roaring blazes during the com-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 121

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 80

ing chilly nights. This allowed for daytime reading in good light, and nighttime warmth from the fireplace. A few pieces of heavy outdoor furniture completed our furnishings. The house was indeed in a bad state of repair. The incredible ceiling was composed of large pieces of cartons tacked in place, and now well watermarked from the leaking roof. The cement floor was badly cracked. But the redeeming feature of the house was the fireplace. It was a beautifully decorative affair, with colorful stones and fossils from the nearby desert imbedded in its cement facing. The windows were our joy! Those overlooking the Del Carmen Mountains offered an untiring view of moods that made those vistas a magic ring of enchantment. The escarpment appeared at times like a pink layer cake, and at sundown became a red-hot stove. With night closing in, it echoed the full gray ashes of a dying fire. At dawn the mountains were a pink barrier over which the sun spilled its blazing light and warmth, which seeped toward us across the desert floor. We never tired of this artful exhibition of Nature, who evidently was as intrigued by her moody mountains as we were, judging from the devotion paid to them during every moment of the day. The color of the desert changed, the light and shadows stretching and shrinking depending on the temper of the weather and the magic of reflection. But on moving day we had no time to linger at the window. It was time to continue the organization of our household. Over the bed we threw a colorful serape, and Patty immediately crawled upon it for a nap. At the first break in the moving-day chores, Betsy and June begged off from work and flew down the hill to play in the creek. Jo set in to sorting clothes and finished making up the beds as I organized the kitchen. I pondered over the possibility of asking my

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 122

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

Into

t h eL i m e s t o n e

L o d g e

folks to send curtains to soften the bleak windows and I longed for rugs to hide the cracked floor and to furnish bright softness for our tender feet. But, as time went by, we learned to live with the sand and dust tracked in or blown in by the wind, and we ignored the floor which remained a gritty, barren waste. During the windy months ahead, it would become a source of despair and irritation, with sand blowing in under the doors or through the cracks around the windows. This contribution from the desert could never be entirely swept away or mopped up. One desert-dweller offered me a solution sometime later. "Just open the back door," he said, "and the sand'U blow right through!" But with the door opposite the front door backed up against a high bluff, it was conceivable we'd only be stockpiling the sand against the next change of wind, which would blow it back again. The fireplace didn't quite live up to its promise either, and was to become another source of frustration for us lone women. It wasn't entirely the fireplace's fault; nor ours that we weren't woodcutters. There was wonderful mesquite to be had along the river banks some distance from us, but if we had been able to hew the old logs into sizes we could lift, we had no vehicle to haul them in. Thus, our supply of firewood was of necessity limited to the small pieces of desert driftwood we could find scattered about in the creekbeds or arroyos. We were constantly lugging armloads of these insignificant branches in from our ramblings, stockpiling them in the sand at the back door. To our dismay, our hungry fireplace found these offerings mere tidbits and chewed them to ashes in less time than it took to gather heat. We ultimately tried to purchase firewood, but those we asked either had no access to it or were not interested in chopping wood. The fireplace, however, was our only source of heat.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 123

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 82

Although it comforted us while it blazed with mesquite fragments, it actually enslaved us during adverse weather and we were constantly foraging for pieces of tree, or bush, or anything that would burn to keep that enormous gaping mouth filled. By the time we were ready for bed, the room usually reached a degree of warmth that would convince us the heat would last the night. This wishful thinking proved unrealistic, and we quickly learned to leap from bed early on a cold morning to start the fire (with less than Girl Scout skill). Often our three matches needed the assist of a pint of kerosene. Jo and I took turns leaping onto the cold cement floor and jumping back into bed after getting the kindling alight, waiting for a little warmth to dress by. On the coldest thirtydegree nights, we warmed flagstones in the fireplace, wrapping them in towels to place at the children's feet, and we all slept fully clothed, including sweaters. The winter mornings that began so frostily thawed out and warmed quickly as the sun rose; and as the day progressed we peeled off clothes, until by afternoon we were once more in shorts, halter, and bare feet. The back door went exactly nowhere, since it led to an alleylike space just a few feet wide. In addition we had two back windows facing the hill, whose beauty was considerably marred by the intrusion of a rickety privy on its slope. The privy leaned to the extent that, unless the door was securely latched, it swung wide-open, exposing to view the occupant and the back wall with half its boards missing. This contributed to two-by-four views of the hillside behind it and little actual privacy; but considering the isolation of our hill, we had little worry that intruders might come upon us unaware and we did nothing about having the boards replaced. Besides, it provided good air-conditioning. This jaunty, cartoonish little structure was a source of amusement to visi-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 124

7/4/2012 9:25:09 PM

Into

t h eL i m e s t o n e

L o d g e

tors, and children unaccustomed to such outdoor plumbing found it a real treat. "Gee, isn't this nice," one little fouryear-old remarked. "You don't even have to flush it!" As this moving day came to a close we were very tired. The children were finally bedded down after a skimpy supper and a short rest on the screened porch overlooking our thorny front yard. The park ranger had returned to his home in the Basin and Maggy had retired early, as was her custom. Jo and I sat looking at the moonlit vista. "What a yard!" was my thought. Hundreds of miles of it right up into the escarpment of the Del Carmen to the east and the Fronterizas scarcely visible against a dusty southern sky. In spite of the beauty of the landscape, I could not keep my thoughts from turning once again to the small cottage in Terrace Park, Ohio, just outside the city limits of Cincinnati. Our white clapboard house near the end of a quiet, treelined street was surrounded by a large yard 100 X 150 feet and shaded with huge trees, hackberry at the back door, maple and locust at our living room windows, a huge sycamore to the north, and all around the perimeter a hedge of lilacs and forsythia, japonica, and spirea. In the spring, we could not get enough of looking at the beauty surrounding us. Beyond our hedges were several vacant fields and a forested space that provided us with rnany types of songbirds: wood thrush, mockingbirds, redbirds, robins, and jays. There were neighbors from just down the road dropping by for coffee and doughnuts, $chool friends coming to play, and joyous family gatherings. As I sat in the moonlight looking past the thorny mesquite, the dusty hills and the mountains all in silver silhouette, I knew that I would trade ^hem all for just one more spring in Terrace Park.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 125

7/4/2012 9:25:10 PM

LIZARDS ON THE MANTEL 84

If there was silence between Jo and me, it was because she, too, was looking at our newly acquired front yard and understood my unspoken thoughts. All of Hot Springs was sleeping save the two of us. The quiet was almost audible. Then, weary from the efforts of the day, we went inside and soon after crawled into our beds. Moments later in the incredible silence we heard quiet, padding feet. Instantly we were up and at the windows. "Maybe it's a wild animal," Jo thought aloud. "What could it be? A coyote, you think?" From window to window we tiptoed, but even in the soft moonlight we could see nothing on four feet, or even two. "Maybe we just imagined it," I said to Jo. "No, I heard something. Sort of like an animal walking." "Maybe it was Bambi," I whispered. But Bambi's feet made not the pad-pad noise of a cat or dog. "It wasn't like hooves," said Jo. We listened for a long time, now wide awake, but heard no more. We mentioned this to Maggy the next morning. "Prob'ly on'y a Messican dawg," she believed. "They's a'ways hongry . . . they's a'ways gittin' into garbage cans an' lookin' f'r food." "But we didn't see a dog," we insisted. "They's light-footed. Like as not you'd not see 'em . . . they's pretty sly." Perhaps it was only dogs. We hoped so, since we had no desire to meet a bobcat or coyote face-to-face en route to the privy behind the house. Thus, we settled down in the house on the hill that November day in 1945, and in due time had curtains at the windows, pillows for our chairs, and our floor aclutter with children's possessions that gave the place a homelike atmosphere. Getting the feel of Hot Springs those first days was excit-

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 126

7/4/2012 9:25:10 PM

Into

t h e L i m e s t o n e

L o d g e

85

ing. We found the neck-deep pool at the Lower Springs beyond the bathhouse where more rugged individuals chose to dip. We admired the Boquillas flagstone outcroppings, and spent long minutes choosing the prettiest "flags" along the bathhouse trail. Even in the hot sun, they reflected their rainbow-hued stratas. We marveled at the delicate wildflowers that grew from cracks in the stone. How they could survive the broiling summer heat at midday was a constant source of amazement to me. The truth was self-evident that in God's plan, the secrets of His botanical specimens were not to be revealed to mortals such as I. The sturdiest desert flowers, when plucked and carried off to a glass of water, faded and never showed their heads again, although the roots miraculously thrived happily in sand and rock. We rose each morning to catch the sunrise, and gloried in the awakening day as it began to flow in the east. We saw the sun set each evening in a thrilling splash of color. Quite often I walked to the hilltops after the evening meal, counting four sunsets as I strolled along . . . each a picture in its own right! The Del Carmen escarpment red-hot as the sun began to set, fading to ash gray in the afterglow; the Chisos were silhouettes against their own glowing sky, looking like stagesets in their sharp configurations. To the east, the Dead Horse Mountains rose stark against the soft colors of evening, and the western sky found itself reflected in Tornillo Creek beyond the bluffs. We concluded our evenings by watching the bright stars of Mexico climb the mountain peaks and rise above us in a starry spectacle that helped to soften my longing for home. In the days that followed we looked about us with new eyes, for Hot Springs was no longer the occasional picnicking treat; it was now our hom$. And so we settled in, the five of us; Jo, the children, and I to a winter on the Rio Grande.

Texas-Koch-1803-Body.pdf 127

7/4/2012 9:25:10 PM

Seventeen

JJL

MAGGY SMITH OPERATED the small trading

Cr% post with a combination of modern practicality and frontier cunning. She lived in the curtained-off area at the back of the store and at the time of our arrival was the only permanent resident of Hot Springs. She had four children. Her two married daughters, Lela and Madge, and her sons, R. D. and Henry, nicknamed "Punk," lived in the Del RioUvalde area at the time, I believe. Maggy's husband had died a year or two earlier, not long after they began managing the trading post, in the days when Big Bend was a state park. I was amazed that Maggy continued to live here alone. However, she had lived in the area for many years and was at home in the Big Bend country. Maggy's border lingo was a cadenza of fascinating sounds —all unintelligible to this Yankee. She could slip from Spanish to English and back again with the speed of sound. With an initial "