The Pauls in Texas

Well, I'm back from Texas. I got to see several of my cousins, one whom I haven't seen since he retired to Austin a couple of years ago, one from Arkansas who came down for the rodeo, and two in Del Rio, whom I saw as a child, but before I was old enough to remember.
                

                                Grandmother's Couch - 1900

I am an only child and I guess my cousins mean more to me because of that. Steve, my cousin in Austin, is more like a brother to me than he is a cousin. I grew up in Oklahoma and he in Texas but we still managed to spend a lot of time together. It was good to visit with him and his wife, their daughter and grandkids. They have another daughter who lives in Dallas. My cousin Steve has my grandmother's living room furniture, and also a clock our grandparents were given as a wedding gift in 1898. Steve's mother, Aunt Oteka, got the clock running again and Steve told me that when he was in high school he had to be in by the time the clock struck 10:00 P.M. He didn't always make it in time.
                        

                              Grandmother's Clock - 1898

After visiting and having some good Texas Bar BQ, we drove over to Del Rio to see the cousins I haven't seen since the late '40's. As I drove to Del Rio through San Antonio, childhood memories of the Alamo and the Buckhorn Saloon came back to me. As we drove through the desert, I remembered Steve showing me the surprising variety of cactus which live there. As we crossed the Nueces River, a major landmark, and at one time the southern border of Texas, I noticed that it was dry, as usual.

Steve had told me that once during a visit with Uncle Bob at his ranch near Bracketville, they passed a car sitting down in the river bed. Uncle Bob hooked a rope to the bumper and pulled it out, so that it wouldn't be in the river bed when the rains came. Steve said that the next time they passed by, the car was back in the river bed. Someone had put it there hoping to collect on the insurance.

I remember visiting my Uncle Bob, father of my Del Rio cousins, in 1954. He was separated from his wife at the time, so I didn't get to meet my cousins then. He was leasing a sheep and goat ranch. His yard was full of goats being treated for "screw worms," maggots which hatch from eggs laid by flies in sores they get from brushing up against the barbed wire. I remember how the goats climbed on our car to reach the tender mesquite leaves growing on the tree above it. They looked like school kids in a play ground sliding down the front windshield of our car as their companions crowded them off the roof. We had to have our car repainted when we got home.

                                      Texas Goats - 1954


                            

                                   John Nance Garner

On the way to Del Rio, we passed through Uvalde, home of "Cactus Jack" Garner, the Vice President under FDR who famously said of his job, "It's not worth a bucket of warm piss." My Uncle Haskell, who came down to Texas about that time to help Uncle Bob negotiate the terms of his divorce - they were both attorneys - visited John Garner. Garner was retired at the time and was just sitting out in his yard when Uncle Haskell came by. According to the story we heard, they had a nice talk until Garner started bragging about Texas pecans. Uncle Haskell couldn't let that pass, and he told Garner that he had documented proof from "experts" that the Oklahoma "Native Pecan" was the most flavorful of nuts. Anyway, the argument ended their conversation. I guess we're lucky that Uncle Haskell didn't get arrested by the Texas Rangers for offending the honor of a Texas icon.
                               

                                          Haskell Paul

Del Rio is a pretty good sized town, compared to when I visited in 1954. It has a college, a truck driver school, and an Air Force Base, not to mention the George Paul Memorial Bull Riding. My cousin Homer was there. He is the manager of recruiting for the U. S. Express Trucking Company, which is a sponsor of the rodeo. He had one of the company's eighteen wheelers parked at the gate to the arena.


                                             U. S. Express

After we checked in at our hotel my cousin Bobby came by. I didn't know him since we haven't seen each other as adults. I was in the Hotel lobby waiting for him to arrive and when he stepped out of his truck he was so buffed that I walked back and sat down, thinking that he was one of the rodeo contestants. When he took off his hat I realized who it was. He looks like his dad. I guess that riding and roping keeps you in shape. Actually he reminded me of his brother George. George's upper body - his arms and shoulders - were really well developed. Anyway there aren't many 65 year old men with bodies like that.

Bobby told us about his family. His younger brother Lee died four years ago of a heart attack. His younger sister Betty is married and lives in Del Rio. His wife suffered a stroke a couple of years ago and is pretty much home bound. He has three children who are grown and were in town for the Bull Riding. Apparently the annual memorial to George was Lee's idea, but Bobby now runs it. It has been going on for 34 years!

The George Paul Memorial Bull Riding is about the most important bull riding event in the country, except for the National Finals Rodeo. It attracts riders from all over the U.S.A., Mexico, and even Brazil. There were 40 entrants this year, including four world champions and two former George Paul champions. The event will be televised later this month. Bobby spends most of the year managing the family ranch in Mexico. He told me about the dangers of the Mexican gangs, about how many people are killed each year, and how helpless is law enforcement.

I got to spend quite a bit of time with my cousin Homer. He and his dad and brothers were really good to visit my mother after my dad died. It's been a while since I've seen him. I felt out of place wearing a baseball cap, sneakers and wrinkled jeans. In rodeo country a cowboy hat, boots and pressed jeans is proper attire. Homer, my wife Sarah and I went out to the arena and took some pictures. We met Bobby's daughter Jaqui who was there helping out. We took pictures of the bulls being herded into the pins in preparation for the rodeo, the extra stadium seats set up just for the event, the big screen for instant replay. 

    

                                    Homer and Jaqui

My wife and I had supper with my cousin Betty and her husband that evening. Betty talked about her dad and how she enjoyed visiting him at his ranch when she was little and how they were all able to get together with him before he died. Divorce is a terrible thing for a family. She talked about how her brother George's death hurt her, and how much it meant to her for the town of Del Rio to support his memorial. The week before the George Paul Memorial Bull Riding are now called "George Paul Days" and are celebrated by a barbeque, a picnic, an art fair and other parties.

        

                                           Betty and John

I also got to meet Bobby's son Robert and his sister Elizabeth. I told them a little about some of the family history they don't know. Their great grandfather rode in rodeos back in 1898. He was a roper.

            

                                                 Robert and Me

          
                               Rodeo Contestants, about 1898.
                 Our Grandfather, W. H. Paul, second from right

The George Paul Memorial Bull Riding was spectacular. Out of the 40 contestants, only 15 stayed on their bull for the required 8 seconds during the first round, and only 4 during the second. It's hard to imagine how George managed to qualify on 79 bulls in a row! The bulls are ferocious. It's incredible how an animal that large can move so quickly. They jump three or four feet in the air, twist one way and then turn back unpredictably. If the rider gets turned to one side or slips back on the bull's rump, he's down, and if he get's thrown forward he can fall against the bull's head or horns - that's how George got thrown off the 80th bull in his string. He was thrown forward and was knocked out against the bull's head. Riders are frequently stepped on, kicked, or gored after they fall, in spite of the efforts of the "bull fighters," who try to distract and to draw the bulls away from them. It's a rough sport.

                            J. W. Harris - Leader after first day

There's a lot more to tell, just mundane stuff. I bought a cowboy hat; I resolved to have my jeans pressed the next time I visit Del Rio; I bought some prickly pear cactus preserves, and I took pictures of the Bull Riding honoring my cousin George. I wish I could have been closer to my cousins over the years. I guess I'm becoming one of these genealogy buffs. When I was younger I was too busy making a living to think about making connections with my family. Maybe it's too late to be close, but I am proud of them; I'm interested in their stories, and I want to make an effort to write things down so my kids and my cousins' kids can know who they are, and where they came from.