My wet socks from Day 1 of this trip had, despite my best efforts, not yet dried out. In fact they had taken on a bit of an…uh…aroma. I resolved that they and I would part company, but being the kind of person who doesn’t want the motel staff to wonder what kind of person would be wearing, and disposing of, in the motel garbage can, something that smelled like it was dead…well, I opted for Plan B.
Itinerary for Day 3:
I had already decided that you can’t do a trip called “Red River Trip” without actually seeing the Red River (I’m fussy about that kind of detail), so the first stop of the day was going to be to the Red River, which would also become the final resting place of those once beloved, but now reviled, Buffalo Brand socks.
I lit out from the Lindsay Inn, into the blinding sun, and then dashed north for 5 miles to the Red River. I knew I could not stop on the Interstate bridge, so I took the last exit before Oklahoma. Eureka! The feeder road did a U-turn under I-35 right AT the river, allowing me to a) photograph the river, and b) dispose of the dreaded and now toxic socks in the bushes, where no nosy motel staff will find them. Or, if they do, they won’t associate them with me. After the next flood, though, I’d steer clear of the Red River for a while, those socks could turn up anywhere.
Speaking of the Red River…le voila!
And now, welcoming the new arrivals from the North Country Fair, a reminder to “Drive Friendly – the Texas Way”. Any motorist who saw the Sheriff’s military-grade Humvee awaiting in Montague would probably respond positively to that exhortation.
The stretch from Gainesville to Sherman and beyond was as close to perfect horse country as you will get outside of Kentucky. It is also perfect for large trucks, so every time I’d see an image to die for, there would be a truck and trailer beside me, behind me, in front of me…so that part of the trip is sadly not documented. But, other than the traffic, it is a great road to ride.
There are a fair number of Shermans in my family – grandfather and uncle and cousin, at least – but I had never thought of it as an especially good name for a TOWN. (This, mind you, being the opinion of someone named “Norman”, no great shakes itself…) Lo and behold, the little town/city of Sherman is a little gem, with a charming courthouse and little sidewalk cafes (where I ate breakfast).
And, for some happy but unknown reason, there were more pretty women sashaying around Sherman than I can recall having seen in any Texas town. (Make a note of that if you are shopping for a new place to live.)
From Sherman, along the southern bank of the Red River to Bonham, seat of Fannin country. It is named for James Bonham, who died in the battle of the Alamo in San Antonio. The courthouse is in a state of near ruins, though it is seemingly being renovated.
While it doesn’t have a courthouse in the traditional sense, it does have the most odious of the monuments to the Confederacy I have yet seen. I feature it, and details of it, below:
I have previously expressed consternation at the extensive celebration of the Confederacy and its heroes on the grounds of state facilities. I have noted that the Confederate flag still flies over at least one courthouse (Goldthwaite). Twenty-six of the 254 counties of Texas are named for people associated with the Confederacy. I have an ancestor who fought in the Confederate Army and drew a pension from the post-war government for it.
This monument merits not consternation, but contempt. It is of recent provenance, and it was erected by people who knew what they were celebrating as a “just cause”, “unrivalled for…bravery, gallantry, daring and dash”, whose soldiers were fighting for “principle”.
Actually the latter part is correct. The principle they were fighting for is the principle of human slavery based on race. I’m tired of and bored with the stupid arguments that it was about states rights, or other mumbo jumbo. I quote below from the document called the “Declaration of Causes” passed by the Texas state convention on 2 February 1861:
“We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable.
…that the servitude of the African race, as existing in these States, is mutually beneficial to both bond and free, and is abundantly authorized and justified by the experience of mankind, and the revealed will of the Almighty Creator, as recognized by all Christian nations…”
Mississippi declared, in its equivalent document, the following:
“Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery– the greatest material interest of the world. Its labor supplies the product which constitutes by far the largest and most important portions of commerce of the earth. These products are peculiar to the climate verging on the tropical regions, and by an imperious law of nature, none but the black race can bear exposure to the tropical sun.”
If that doesn’t make your blood run cold, I don’t know what would. Those aren’t opinion pieces, they are from the documents penned by the architects and managers of the Confederacy.
These documents state in the clearest possible terms the motivations behind the establishment of the Confederacy. Similar contemporary documents were promulgated by Georgia, South Carolina, and Virginia.
So yes, though I do have some personal roots on the Confederate side of that conflict, I’m not going to pretend that it was noble, gallant, dashing, daring, just, or right. I understand how it came about, but it was wrong, and it was on the wrong side of a human history with hope.
So don’t wave that Confederate flag in my direction and expect a polite response. It is time – actually I thought it had arrived 50 years ago – for white people, white Southerners in particular, to move beyond the stale, and intellectually and morally dishonest, arguments supportive of the Confederate secession. Move on. Please. It’s overdue.
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming. Moving on…
…to the funny little town of Cooper, seat of tiny Delta county. This little display on the roadside!
And the almost “Deep South” feel to the Delta county courthouse…
And then, finally, to PARIS!! Paris, Texas, that is…seat of Lamar County and site of the famous 1984 Wim Wenders movie of the same name, sound track by the inimitable Ry Cooder. (Spoiler alert – the movie has virtually nothing to do with Paris, Texas, other than as an idée fixe.)
A very substantial courthouse.
The First United Methodist Church. I initially thought it must be a branch of the US Mint, or an LDS fortification, but lo and behold it’s the Methodist church. They don’t seem to be having hard times…
Then, further eastward to Clarksville (Take the Last Train to… – OK, so that was Clarksville, TN), seat of Red River county. More of those cross-like things on top of the courthouse…
On the road from Clarksville to New Boston, seat of Bowie county, I spied the first stand of pine trees, reminding me that I was now leaving behind West Texas and entering East Texas, this being the northern reach of the Piney Woods that extend all down the eastern side of Texas to the Gulf of Mexico.
The humidity began to change along with the vegetation. I grew up on the hot, steamy, piney Gulf Coast, and this climatic transition reminded me that I’m not a forest person, or a fan of the muggy climate. I like to see a horizon, and I like to have the sweat evaporate under wind and dry heat. However, I’d better buck up, the next few trips are going to be exclusively in the heat and humidity.
In a refreshing respite from the glory of the Confederacy, Bowie county is named for Jim Bowie – he of the knife and the Alamo. The county seat is New Boston, which I’d never even heard of – but it has a new and obviously expensive court house, with aforesaid Jim Bowie presiding over it.
Can’t believe I left that helmet out there to clutter up the photo…
Having reached the eastern-most part of Texas, nudging up against Arkansas and Louisiana, I head south for Linden, seat of Cass county. Here you can clearly see the difference in landscape.
Maud, TX, en route to Linden…
Other than rain, it’s been a while since I’ve seen WATER!! I like this picture because the road sign is peppered with shotgun shot and a few large-bore bullet holes. Clearly one of the favored local sports is riding around with guns shooting road signs. I get it. In my neighborhood in Wimberley they play mail box baseball, which involves riding around with baseball bats bashing mailboxes off their post. Mine has on at least one occasion provided somebody with at least a double, maybe a triple.
So T-Bone Walker is from the hamlet of Linden! If you don’t know T-Bone’s music, it’s worth looking it up. He was cited by none other than B. B. King as being the man who made B. B. want to play the blues. You probably have heard of his most famous song, “They Call it Stormy Monday (But Tuesday’s Just as Bad)”, AKA Stormy Monday.
More brilliant murals! Where do these towns find these artists?
And on to the curious little town of Daingerfield, seat of Morris county.
And then to Pittsburg (yes, spelled without an “h”), seat of Camp county.
And then to Mount Pleasant, seat of Titus county – jumping for joy!
Glorious vistas on the road from Mount Pleasant to Mount Vernon, seat of Franklin county and namesake of my neighboring town when I lived in New Rochelle, NY.
Mount Vernon is a very special little town. It is immaculately and creatively maintained, and despite its tiny size it had what seemed to be flourishing life around its beautiful central square with gazebo.
And finally, for the last stop of the day: Sulphur Springs, seat of Hopkins county. Never having been to this place before, I imagined it as a grungy little dump located around some huckstered curative “spring”, but nothing could be further from the truth. It is an elegant little town with the greenery of east Texas, but the better (for me) climate of the west. And the courthouse is like something out of Alice in Wonderland.
The downtown has little sidewalk cafes, where I took my very fine evening meal in the warm glow of the setting sun. Two big draft beer reward! Magical end to a magical day.
End of Day 3 of Red River Trip