Mecklenburg! continued

   PREFACE: By the late 1760 and through the 1770s, North Carolina's Piedmont was  a smoldering hot bed of discontent. By 1770, laws were passed to put down the Regulators by military force. (law passed  after  the treacherous Col Fanning was dragged out of  Superior Court, thrown down the stairs and beaten by some  Regulators.)

After that incident, Col. Fanning , with military backing,  rode through the countryside administering the Oath of Allegiance to The Crown. Fanning shot and hung several for refusing.

By 1771, at a skirmish in the Regulators were squashed in Alamance, and thirty -one men were dragged in irons through Mecklenburg  and other western counties.

The ladies of Edenton, North Carolina decided to take a stand on behalf of the Regulators  and met  in 1774 to hold their own tea party. They voted to refuse  British imports over at Albemarle Sound...especially tea and cloth.  Penelope Barker, organizer, stated the they would not "hide behind costumes " as the men had done at the Boston Tea Party. "The British will know who we are !"  she vowed. Fifty-one women inspired the South to renew their fight for liberty as word traveled to the western counties.

Penelope Barker, Organizer, Ladies of Edenton.

The opening scene below is my own dramatization of  how the "Ladies Tea Party" was discussed in the Potts family. Although these were not their exact words, never doubt that the subject was tea...jfh

          
                                                       
                                               PART FIVE

1774, 3:00 p.m.,Tea Time : James, now fifty-five, has had a long morning taking care of business. Then there's always the children to worry about:  Jean is almost of a marriageable age, and there are worrisome suitors. William seems to have a head for business like his father, but John....ah, now there's one who marches to a different drummer... an idealist with a militaristic viewpoint. There's no telling where that may lead the lad.

For now, James just wants to relax and have his usual afternoon cup of  tea. He wanders into the kitchen where he knows that Margaret and Febe will have the teapot and biscuits set out as usual. But wait, what is this? Nothing? After all these years of  proper tea at three  clock sharp, there is nothing?

"What, Wife, is there no tea to be had today?"

"No, James. There will take no more British tea in this house. The ladies of Edenton are rejecting  shipments coming  into the bay. We must make do without it...for the cause."

British satirical rendering of the Ladies of Edenton.

The women had spoken. Now James may have been a force for liberty, but the idea of life without tea was disturbing . It was as if tea mixed with the Irish blood of  ancestors who  enjoyed a proper tea time for hundreds of years. Now this... no tea to be had  in North Carolina.

James, like many Mecklenburg planters, probably felt disillusionment about many things. For four years now, the Regulators had been  forced to underground activity. How he must have longed for the way life was when he was young and starry-eyed and starting over in an exciting new land.

All was not lost.  There was  a shift in the prevailing winds the very next year: 1775.

Patriots gathered together at Charlotte, North Carolina  and constructed what came to be known as the "Mecklenburg Resolutions" (often said to be the forerunner of the Declaration of Independence). This document was a call to arms for Southern Patriots to fund a fight for freedom from an oppressive Royal Government and corrupt officials like Governor Tryon and  Col. Fanning. Mecklenburg would lead the way .

So it was that during the mid 1770s and 1780s, the American Revolution marched into the pages of history. Our Allies? The poor dissipated Catawba Tribe  whose numbers had dwindled from decades of white man's disease and rum. Added to the opposition, the powerful warriors of the Cherokee Tribes rode down from the Smokies to fight side by side with the British. The Cherokees declared their own war  on the Scotch- Irish colonists, as well, in an uneven match of skill and numbers.

The Cherokee side with the British

One Hessian officer on the British side said the war was "...nothing more or less than a Scotch-Irish Presbyterian rebellion!"

This ethnic/religious group represented over seventy-five percent of the Patriots, according to  estimates! Some battles were won, some lost early on, but it was to be the underestimated battle of Cowan's Ford that would turn the tide in the Southland...in an unexpected way.

 

On  February 1, 1781, our direct ancestor, son of James and Margaret, twenty-eight year old  husband and new father, Patriot Captain John Potts is listed  in Civil War records. He is to serve under Brig. Gen. William Lee Davidson at Cowan's Ford, on the Catawba River.     

       

                                                     PART SIX

Captain John Potts shivers  in the cold driving rain a mile back from  the Catawba . February 1, 1781 will be his longest day since entering The Revolutionary War. Nighttime has come, and the cold penetrates his soaked  and tattered uniform. Warming his hands by the campfire, he looks around at seventy Mecklenburg men under his command and knows they  are desperate for the warmth of home . He thinks of his wife Elizabeth Stevenson Potts and his infant boy Daniel John and how they  clung to him as he said his goodbyes. He wonders if he will make it back to them alive.

Yet John sees his duty clearly: to slow the progress of Lt. Gen. Charles Cornwallis and 5,000 well trained men as they advance toward Maj. Gen Nathaniel Greene and his rag tag militia. (John's devotion to his commander Brig. Gen William Lee Davidson is unwavering). Men station themselves at each ford in the river,  knowing that Cornwallis will have to cross one of them. Meanwhile, the swift water Catawba is swollen to overflowing, the rain will not stop, and the Patriots are outnumbered five to one.

Back home, we see the probable scenarios our minds' eye:  James and Margaret  and the New Providence Presbyterian Church are praying for John's safety. We know that James, in his sixty-second year, is not well, and he surely hopes  to remain alive until John is safely home. Not knowing his son's fate is most likely taking its toll on James who makes out his  will. He decides to leave a "two year old heifer" to his granddaughter Margaret Baxter, Jean's daughter with husband John Baxter. (possibly James' granddaughter helped raise it as a calf ,or was fond of it). He makes sure that Febe is safely left in wife Margaret's hands, and wills the two elderly slaves to his sons. He divides property and money amongst his children, wife and others. In  an odd twist, after securing Margaret in the "plantation where we live now", James leaves Minevess to Jean's son James Potts Baxter ... still just a small boy. (Sadly, his grandson will never take possession of the plantation a he dies at age ten). James wills his "two big bibles" to each of his sons, so they may lead their households well. The patriarch is now ready for fate to take him when it will... if only he could see John before he takes his last breath.

Meanwhile on the riverbanks, armed "pickers" are stationed at all fords, awaiting Cornwallis and his troops. Five hundred Patriots are stationed close to Beattie's ford, the most likely crossing for men on horseback. John and his seventy  from Mecklenburg are at the second line of defense: Tool's ford. Only twenty-five are sent to Cowan's ford, the least likely crossing. The men are "up to our knees in mud" one officer reported later.

Cornwallis enters the water as it overflows its banks and loses one of his cannons in a swampy part of the river. Half his men are back there looking for it! The other half advance across the Catawba.

The Patriots stationed at the fords are falling asleep, and the enemy can see the flickering of their camp fires through the trees. The plan is to catch the Patriots off guard.

Cornwallis' guides, Cherokee and African Americans,  lead him to the worst possible crossing...unintentionally or not. The British army is coming in at  high water Cowan's Ford!

At this crossing, the river is at its deepest and almost impassable. The swollen river washes over the heads of the horses, and the British are almost swept away in the rapid current. They  lash themselves together with rope  and trudge forward.

Through the early morning fog, John is startled to see the enemy one hundred yards from the banks at the next ford. They are unexpectedly coming in downstream where only twenty-five Patriots are stationed. John  calls his  sleepy men to rally at the crossing . Why in the world are they crossing there! is undoubtedly what John is thinking. The half-drowned British force is coming across firing as the Patriots trudge through the mud , half dressed, rushing toward Cowan's ford.  General Davidson rides  to their aid with his infantry, as John and the others continue to fire into the river.

The fall of General Davidson.

Suddenly,John's beloved General Davidson is struck in the head by the enemy and falls dead from his horse . Even  as his infantry retreats, the Patriots do the best they can to maintain and are able to stall the British advancement. Yet they are far outnumbered and must concede defeat.

Although this battle was counted as a win for the British, most say it defined the end of the war in the South and aided in the eventual winning of the war for the colonists. The enemy's plans  were squashed and many of their men killed and wounded. Cornwallis  vowed never to enter the South again, especially  the Carolinas,  as it is, quote: " a hornets' nest!"    John will be home by Spring.

What a homecoming it must have been. Captain John Potts' wife Elizabeth, baby Daniel John,  brother William, sister Jean  and their families, parents James and Margaret ...all there to celebrate his safe return. ( John may have been wounded. We don't know). James' condition is worse. I can hear him tell Margaret and his children to keep his funeral simple but to be sure  the cost of it is covered and all debts are paid...as is in fact, stated first and foremost in his will . I can feel the family's tears as the end draws near. James  breathes his last on May 8, 1781. Somehow I can see  his loved ones around him and can feel his spirit say " All is well."  They are gone now, yet the  family bloodline... like that old Catawba River with tributaries spreading far  and wide...flows on forever, and from James’ son John, springs a great family….our family.   

Robert Potts House today: once part of the plantation

Potts family buried at Providence Presbyterian Church Cemetary.

Final note: Cousins: Captain John Potts' son Daniel John, was the father of Jonathan H. who was father to 'Will", (our grandmother Winnie Potts Bridges' father).

Mecklenburg! continued....

Sidenote***Although my mother referred to her  mother’s Potts clan as "Dutch" , I am convinced that the Dutch bloodline, if it existed, mingled with, and was overtaken by Scotch-Irish (Irish who fled to Scotland and intermarried).

Also, we hear the term "Pennsylvania Dutch" used. Because the early  German settlers of that colony came from what they referred to as "Deutschland" many were  mistakenly called "Deutsch or Dutch"....jfh.

                                                             Part Three

From 1760 to 1780 brothers James and John Potts became land barons.  They bought land  and accepted land grants east of the Great Smoky Mountains. James acquired almost 2,000 acres in Anson and  Mecklenburg Counties ( and even more that he gave to his sons)...prime land near waterways connected to the Catawba River at Coddle Creek, Rocky River, Six Mile Creek in New Providence (adjoining Indian lands ). It was here that the Potts family helped establish the New Providence Presbyterian Church in 1767. James, always  business minded,  built  a grist mill by the river where the community's wheat and corn was ground. He became a pillar of the Piedmont.

Providence Church 1767

After apparently befriending the Catawba Indians, James was surprisingly  granted some of their land on the condition that he settle it and farm it.... according to legal documents. (It is likely the Natives were expecting a return in the form of corn and tobacco and hunting rights.) Over the course of a few years James built and maintained three plantations: Minevess, Rocky River and one he referred to in his will as "the plantation we live on now" (in reference to the place where  he and Margaret spent their last years.)

Trading with friendly Catawbas

It was far better for the Catawbas to deal with James  than the British government, which usually attempted to limit settlers’ territory. At other times, Great Britain changed its mind when the colonists would benefit and  sided with Native Americans on the issue of land ownership. The Catawbas had shriveled  in number due to smallpox and measles epidemics and  white man's liquor ; they lost heart and  went from one colonist's home to another asking for gun powder, blankets and tobacco. Yet the proud Cherokee tribe remained strong and ready to retaliate as the  land hungry settlers pushed father west,  trickling into their  sacred territory in the Smokies.

Surprise attacks on isolated settlers began as the Cherokees caught women and children alone with the men in the fields. Although many preferred peace, the outlaws of the tribe became barbaric and sickeningly cruel. A small unidentified group kidnapped young boys, bashed infants against trees and tortured and scalped mothers and daughters in one single incident. Although the attacks were few, they struck terror in the hearts of helpless women and children. The men armed themselves day and night since Fort Dobbs of the French and Indian War days was shut down tighter than a tomb.

Cherokee attacks

We can feel the terror that Margaret surely felt during these times as her neighbors suffered horrifying attacks. We can imagine her fear for the safety of  William, John and baby Jean. We can hear her questioning James' obsessive desire for more land at the expense of his family and his efforts to protect them. Was their new pampered lifestyle on those rolling green plantations worth this risk? Perhaps there were times when Margaret wanted to take the children and run north. We will never know her thoughts. Like most women of her era, she left us little insight into her emotions. A woman's lot was to follow her husband's lead. We know from his comments within his will that James did indeed love and care for each member of his family.

During those turbulent years during the 1760s and 70s, James' old business acquaintance, Tory Col. Edward Fanning, collected excessive taxes and fees on the colonist properties while  conspiring with corrupt  government agents and other land speculators to snatch  settlers' lands. The heartless Col. Fanning even shot and killed  his fellow colonel, John Bryan, for refusing to pledge allegiance to the King... (nothing like making an example of someone to keep control.)

I like to think James saw the writing on the wall and sided with other Piedmont backwoodsmen as they formed the “Regulators”... activists for colonists' rights.  I want to believe that James realized where his loyalties lay...for these events became the pre-labor pains of the birth of the American Revolution in the South.

"White Man build great and fine houses as if they were to live there always, but White Man must die as well as Red Man"....Cherokee warrior.

 

Part Four

Note***  Col. Edward Fanning returns to the story. Some accounts give the name "Edmund Fanning". It is unclear if this is  the wrong name /same man or two different individuals ( if so, they were double trouble.) To avoid confusion, I will refer to him as simply Col. Fanning,

(not to be confused with Fannin of Alamo fame)...J.F.H.

After the Cherokee skirmishes simmered down, the crises between the British government and the colonists boiled over. The greedy  Col.  Fanning became the Registrar of Deeds as well as the tax collector for Mecklenburg County and others.  You can imagine how that worked out: unfair taxes and seized property . Working with corrupt sheriffs and deputies, Fanning amassed a fortune of 10,000 British pounds  taken, as one observer wrote "all out of the people." Out of their hide he wanted to say, maybe?

Colonel Fanning, land speculator

The New Providence Presbyterian congregation , both faithful members and backsliders alike, could finally agree on something: they had to regulate government taxation. Men from other western North Carolina counties met July 14, 1768. The "Regulators" were born. Apparently, the Potts clan  was among the Mecklenburg organizers and part of the leadership... although not all colonists were brave enough to go against The Crown.  I feel certain that James  had taken the colonist side against the same Fanning who sold him that first 443 acres ...acreage that now  numbered into the thousands. To Col. Fanning and his gang it must have looked like a pretty plum ready for the picking.

Well-to-do or not, James still was one of his own people. He either made his decision out of  loyalty to the clan....or to avoid  scathing remarks from his fellow backwoodsmen. I, for one, believe he was the type of man who  stood on the principle of fairness at some point...(as much as one person's opinion can be counted...but then since he is my ancestor, my opinion may be somewhat biased).

At any rate, lines were clearly drawn by October; but  Governor Tyron's people felt the clan was no real threat. After all, they kept to themselves and ignored everyone else!  One writer of the time described the "Scotch Irish Presbyterians" as "reserved", "cold" "unemotional". Governor Tyron  and Col. Fanning were shown the other side of the coin:

Unemotional are we? Well here's your emotion! Cold are we? Here's the fire! ...You can almost hear their reactions.

The Regulators marched up  to Governor Tyron and his government and, according to some reports,  rioted, demanding fair treatment  and a voice in their own taxation.  A  letter written   in October of that year describes the backwoodsmen of  North Carolina's western counties as...  "a dangerous mob, a number of armed men, calling themselves Regulators, refusing to pay any debts and taxes."

Meanwhile, back at the big house at Minevess Plantation, it is a typical Autumn day. During this decisive year of 1768, our great great great great grandfather John is 15. His voice has probably started to change, and his father has, no doubt, begun grooming both him and William to be planters...whether they like it or not. Margaret and Jean are sheltered from the upheaval of the day. "Febe", Margaret's good right hand,  goes about overseeing the household. On Rocky River plantation, by the river bottom, rice plants mature in the rich soil, and across the  higher savanna flows an endless sea of tobacco and indigo.

Cauldrons of hearty stews and  porridge simmer on the fire overnight to be taken out to the fields come morning...for the backwoods tradition is that slaves  eat first and family second. Inside the kitchen there is the constant aroma of baked goods: corn bread and wheat loaves from grains freshly  ground at the Pott's public grist mill. There are many mouths to feed and much work to be finished. On this extraordinary little day in history, life is quite ordinary  in this haven...even as musket smoke drifts across the plantations, as the government men fire into the crowd of Regulators. I can imagine Margaret trying not to think of it, knowing James is attending matters as men have done since the beginning of time. A good Irish woman she is, this Margaret Mckee Potts.

Tobacco farming

I can hear her sigh of relief as James storms through the door, unharmed but incensed that the Regulators have not yet won. Now the smoke of a  "flame of rebellion" floats above them, no longer at  a distance. Today will not be the end of their problems with Col. Fanning, Gov. Tyron and before long...the British Crown itself.

To be continued...

Mecklenburg!

                                                         

                                      

Preface***During the  mid seventeen hundreds, Scotch-Irish Presbyterians fled Pennsylvania as German Lutheran immigrants  flooded the colony and swept away  precious land and resources. The two religious sects could not co-exist. Moreover, the  Presbyterians sought  freedom from the relentless grip of King George II and the Church of England... as did their fathers before them. Leaving all they had known behind, they packed their Conestogas and trekked along the Appalachians to  the open green valleys of North Carolina.

Members of the Potts family of Chester County, Pennsylvania were a part of that massive migration to  a southern frontier of large land grants and sprawling plantations.
And so we begin with James Potts (1719/1720-1781)  as he enters the Piedmont Section, circa 1750 to the home of his cousins Henry and Moses...later moving just south of there to begin a farming empire that will  become Mecklenburg County, North Carolina.

Note***This post is based on information from free historical websites, personal written accounts , genealogy, cemetery records, land transfers and wills...all double checked for accuracy. I  hope that  errors are few. Some imagined scenes are valid conclusions based on facts.

            Part One:

                                             

James Potts is a young man  accustomed  to the orderliness of Philadelphia and Pottsville. Now he has left civilization far behind ...five hundred  miles back up the Great Wagon Road. He is deep on the Occaneechi, the trading  path of the Catawba Indians of the Carolinas.

Although the Catawbas are peaceful enough,  they can grow agressive under the influence of white man's  rum, and they watch in the distance. Then as the moon rises,  the wild bright  eyes of  panthers and wolves flash in the darkness as they slink through a primitive  forest as endless as time. The settlers are weary, but they dare not rest.

James and  others in the family  quicken their pace. Soon now they will arrive at their first new home with relatives at  the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains .West of this "low country" toward the Great Smoky Mountains is the land of the Cherokee. Close by  is the fertile Catawba River Valley which will one day be a vibrant force in the prosperity of the family.

The Cherokees   watch from their mountain top,  as this latest stream of Scotch-Irishmen trudge through the valleys below . They treasure their territory on the west side of the Smokies and will defend it  with the spilling of blood if they must. For now, they are still...watching, waiting.

Cousins Henry and Moses are excited to see their relatives and make them welcome in their cabin. James, although in his early thirties, is without a wife as yet and focuses on the planting of crops with brother John and the cousins. By harvest time the next fall, there will be an abundance  of indigo, corn, wheat and tobacco as far as his eye can see. The soil is rich here in the backcountry of the Piedmont, and  it is easily tilled. The endless forests of elm, beech and yellow pine are home to deer and wild turkey;   countless streams are filled with fish.  Food is plentiful and James thrives. To the west, within walking distance, the terrain rises to the foothills of the Great Smokies...a land  with  rolling hills of limestone and clay intertwined with  fast flowing rivers.

Fellow settlers are remote here deep into the backcountry, and although they are isolated,  James is a member of the close knit, self-reliant  Potts clan. Most likely,  he  thinks of  the crowded colony of  Pennsylvania while breathing  the sweet air of this new land. He decides  that he will live out his days in this utopia... this colony they call North Carolina.

We can easily imagine that James family helps him in the construction of a home.  (The Scotch-Irish  learned much from their German neighbors in Pennslyvania.) Large logs are squared with broad axes and dove tailed at the joints with no need for nails. The spaces between are chinked with woodchips, stones and mud so James will be warm and snug in winter and relatively cool in  summer. Although he does not yet know, this first humble home will precede three  plantations and large tracts of  land as  James one day progresses south to what will become Mecklenburg County. The next decades will be ones of explosive growth , land speculation and danger.

We wonder: If James Potts could foretell future events yet unseen, would he have  trekked over five-hundred miles to this wilderness frontier?

Part Two:


"My heart is the room and in it she may be. And she may unlock it without any key..." (words to an old Scotch-Irish ballad.)

Margaret Mc Kee proves to be a good and worthy match for James Potts. Although she is thirteen years younger (birth :1732, death: 1795), she is from the same thrifty, hard working stock as he, and they are wed  in North Carolina early 1750s. James refers to her in his will as his "beloved wife" Margaret.

They most likely meet at one of many "socials" that eases the back-breaking monotony of carving a home from the wilderness. The Scotch- Irish are  fun loving  and so are their weddings. A rather stuffy Anglican  describes  them as "vile, ignorant and void of manners, education or good breeding." (Yet many other accounts describe the Scotch-Irish colonists as "hard working, honest, good hearted, pius. ") 

William Attmore notes "It is very much their custom in North Carolina to drink drams of some kind or another before breakfast, sometimes gin, cherry bounce, egg nog etc." (whether or not the Potts family followed these customs we do not know. Family, take no offense. The Potts appear to have been a sober clan, but   at James and Margaret's wedding, most likely some guests  tipped a jug of ol' Rattle Skull or Whistle Belly out back.)

We can almost hear the fiddles playing as wedding guests dance to a reel. We can almost feel the couple's embarrassment as the "shivaree" begins afterwards....pots and pans banging outside their window, neighborhood boys serenading loud, lewd songs.  So given the traditions of the times, we might safely assume a raucous beginning to James and Margaret Potts married life.

---

During the next few years, three children are born to James and Margaret. First comes William, last is Jean...and most significant to us, the middle child who happens to be in our direct lineage: John, 1753-1839...a boy who grows up to become a hero in the eyes of many. We have no record of any other children born to them, although  there may have been others who died in infancy. (Small pox epidemics spread to the colony in 1753 and reoccurred every few years.)  Small pox is  devastating with fevers and sores that cover the entire body of its victims . The disease takes its toil on the settlers ....especially the babies and children, and it also kills thousands of Catawba Indians who have no naturally acquired immunity .

The Cherokees remain west, shielded by the Smoky Mountains and, as yet, unscathed by smallpox. Yet soon this powerful tribe will come to hate the Europeans in the valley beyond them, and life will become quite different for all.

Family life continues. Colonial life is simple yet difficult. James plants the crops and tends the sheep and cows along side his relatives. Margaret cares for the children, keeps the hearth fire going continuously and weaves the "linsey-woolsey" cloth for coverlets  and every day clothing.

The family profits from tobacco and indigo exports, and when John is ten years old, James purchases 443 acres from Col. Edward Fanning, an infamous Tory tax assessor-collector and land speculator . Much of the Potts tract lies farther west in the newly formed (1762) Mecklenburg County... near the swift  flowing Catawba River!

(Parts three and four next week)

The Day the Wolfman Cried

Preface:  During the summer of 1958, when I was  fourteen,  we moved to the rocky canyons and high plains of Val Verde County. There was  a sense of unease the moment that hot Southwest Texas wind blasted  through the open window of the family Chevy. 
Mother, Daddy and I had arrived in our new home: Del Rio---an Air Force town by the Rio Grande, bordering  Villa Acuna, Mexico. (Now Ciudad Acuna.) At that same time, a fledgling misfit disc jokey  steam rolled into that same town, shaking up the status quo---and , me as well.


Note:*** Bio information often claims Robert Weston Smith (1938-1995) known as Wolfman Jack, started his career in the sixties. Not true. He was in Del Rio/Acuna on air in 1958.  (It is unclear as to whether he was licensed at that time.)           
                              **********************************************.




 My father was devoted to saving souls, and that border town of Del Rio had sent for my father. The local congregation, combined with its south of the border Villa Acuna members, had found us a house on East Fourth Street --- an old Victorian with a wide front porch and a single barren peach tree out back.

"I don't feel right without  trees around me," Mother said.

It would be the last time she voiced her feelings for the duration --- at least in my presence. As  a preacher's wife , she kept her thoughts and emotions in check under all circumstances. As soon as all our belongings were in place, she went straight to that big old fashion kitchen and got out the mixing bowls.

"When I'm down I bake," she proclaimed.

She must have felt really low, because there would be a weekly stream of  loaves of bread and rolls coming out of the oven during our time there. Mother had her baking. I had my radio. We would get by.

Brother Joe was back in East Texas at college, so life was much quieter and oddly off kilter---like a broken compass unable to find true direction. Yet I settled in , choosing one large bedroom to the front of the house, overlooking the porch. I unpacked  my Philco  and my sketch pad and  stationary for letters to the friends I had left behind. I thought I might never come out. I thought I might  throw myself across the bed and sleep forever. I would  fall asleep with the soft  sounds of the late fifties.

 That first night I flipped the dial  to the sound of an unearthly howl that pierced the stillness of my room."AWOOOOOO!" 
I jerked down the volume for fear of waking my parents.  Then came a gravelly deep growl with a  New York accent. What kind of half human was this?

 This outlaw d.j. who called himself Wolfman Jack announced his new broadcast for XERF radio headquartered on Pecan Street,  not far from our house. Little did I know this was to be the beginning of the semi-legal "border blaster" 250,000 and eventually 500,000 kw. station whose transmitting tower was  on the Mexican side  near Villa Acuna. Mexico had no restrictions on broadcasting power, but the United States did. Wolfman spun the records into the late night.

"Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart " crooned Little Anthony.

The  hits were  interlaced with some of the strangest advertising known to man . I had it all there in my radio: rock and roll, rhythm and blues and some slightly disturbing "soul" I had never heard---and in between, Wolfman did commercials pitching cloths dipped in holy water from the River Jordan, life size statues of the Virgin Mary complete with blinking lights.. Then "Blade Man" took over and sold reconditioned razor blades. No doubt my father would have thought the Wolfman was inappropriate and a mental case to boot---had he known about him that is. I owned the radio, and it was my room, and I spent much  of my  time there that summer .I knew no one , and  school was two months away. Instead, I wrote letters ... lots of them, while listening to Wolfman Jack late at night.

 I was too young and full of life not to come outside eventually.
That summer I got to know some of the kids at church. We visited  Judge Roy Bean's old store and jailhouse in Langtry and got a sense of the Old West . Then there were  barbecues out at  Sam Mc Bee's ranch. His grandson  drove us around the ranch in an open jeep, bouncing over rocky and hilly terrain and splashing through low lying creeks. When I almost fell out, I informed Bart he was crazy and that I was ready to go back to the party.

"Awooooooooo!" came the boy's reply,  head back, howling in laughter.

 I half expected fangs to appear . This was my first indication that I was not the only kid listening to the border blaster record spinner. It was just  a matter of time before someone's parents found out about the Wolfman and his unsettling influence.The world had not yet caught on to that secret domain of teens.

Brother Joe visited us that summer, and he and I decided to cross the border into Villa Acuna . I was not prepared for the street children with their dirty faces and outstretched hands begging for money. On the side of the street was a tar paper shack where a woman slouched, hands on hips,  cigarette dangling from her mouth. She watched intently as the street urchins worked the touristas. I wondered if they were her children  and if they would someday escape the misery of that village, with or without her.

I couldn't change the childrens' world  nor mine. Yet somewhere in that Mexican village without hope, while cruising  in Joe's fifty-four Chevy, the powerful XERF transmitter blasted an American song by a new group called the Elegants .The sky filled with stars while the children begged for pennies, and  Wolfman howled happily.


"Twinkle. twinkle, little star. How I wonder where you are.
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.
Wish I may, wish I might.
Please grant this wish I wish tonight.


 Something shifted in the galaxy on February 3, 1959.
The newsman on my radio said the Midwest was bracing for a blizzard.  The next announcement was that a plane carrying  rock and roll greats Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly had crashed in a snow covered cornfield in Clear Lake, Iowa  after performing  at  The Surf Club. No survivors. How many times had I listened to their latest hits. How many times had their music chased the blues as I adjusted to my new home.Yet I didn't cry. Someone did that for me: Wolfman's voice was heavy with unspilled tears as he broke the news to his listening audience. Then he cried quietly----for that  monumental loss to himself and to rock and roll. Was it possible that the irreverent,  devil-may-care  renegade had human feelings?

The songs of the stars played on , even as their bodies lay in a morgue thousands of miles from Del Rio:

 Chantilly Lace and a pretty face...I had a girl. Donna was her name...I love you Peggy Sue...on and on the records played.


Robert Smith, the mortal man, morphed back into the unflappable Wolfman Jack  and howled happily once again.  I guess he now knew what I knew: there were no more miracles---no matter how many samples of holy water were sold from the River Jordan.

In the meantime, Daddy saved some souls, a few  urchins were saved from the streets of Villa Acuna, Mother came to grips with her baking obsession, and the struggling peach tree out back actually bore fruit. And we left Val Verde County.

As for  me? I was much the same wherever we moved: always listening late at night, when across the crystal clear air wave  at ominous power, the would be miracle worker spun the gold.

The music could not die. Signing off for now.....