THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
941
D. M. O'CONNOR
[photo omitted — DENNIS O'CONNOR]
Dennis M. O’Connor, the subject of this sketch, a son of Thomas O'Connor of Ireland was born in Refugio county, Texas, October 9, 1840, and died July 18, 1900. He received a fair education as he was growing up, but the Civil War coming on left his education incomplete. He entered the cattle business, assisting his father. Few men ever dreamed in the old country, where the elder O'Connor came from, of the possibilities for a poor boy that were possible in this glorious sun-kissed land. Thomas O'Connor, the father, arrived in Texas from Wafford, Ireland, in March, 1834, and located in Refugio county. He served in the Texas War for Independence and was the youngest man in the battle of San Jacinto. After this war he returned to Refugio county and engaged in raising cattle on a small scale and also in manufacturing saddle trees and ox yokes. He invested all of his earnings in cattle and land and foresaw that those broad rolling prairies could not always afford free grass. He inclosed the first pasture in Refugio county, 10,000 acres, with wire, and continued to fence pastures until he had 500,000 acres under wire and stocked with cattle and horses, his lands lying in Refugio, Goliad, San Patricio, McMullen and LaSalle counties, its estimated value being $4,500,000 at the time of his death October 16, 1887. This property descended to his sons, Dennis and Thomas O'Connor, Jr. The mother of these boys came from New York with her parents, the Fagans, in 1829, and was married to Thomas O'Connor in 1839, the
bride and groom riding on horseback to San Antonio, a distance of over 100 miles, to have the wedding ceremony performed.
SHANGHAI PIERCE
[photo omitted — SHANGHAI PIERCE]
Of this remarkable character George W. Saunders says: "Col. Shanghai Pierce has a record in the cattle industry never surpassed and I doubt if ever equaled by any man. I spent ten years hunting his photo, and had about given up the search when A. P. Ward of San Antonio, a relative to Col. Pierce, suggested that I write to the Colonel's granddaughter, Mrs. Frank Armour, in Chicago. She directed me to write to her brother, Mr. Pickett Withers of that city and to my surprise and delight I received a good photo of Colonel Pierce just in time to get it in this volume of the Trail Drivers of Texas. Then it dawned upon me that I had no knowledge of where he was from, where he was born, or when he died, and I regret that I am unable to give this information at present. My first recollection of Mr. Pierce was just after the close of the Civil War when he bought fat cattle all over South Texas. I remember seeing him many times come to our camp where he had contracts to receive beeves. He was a large portly man, always rode a fine horse, and would be accompanied by a negro who led a pack horse loaded with gold and silver which, when he reached our camp, was dumped on the ground and remained there until the cattle were classed and counted out to him, then he would empty the money on a
blanket in camp and pay it out to the different stockmen from whom he had purchased cattle. He would generally buy 200 or 300 head at a time. The cowmen would round up large herds at different times and Colonel Pierce would select what he wanted. We all looked upon him as a redeemer, and were glad to sell our cattle at any price as money was scarce in those reconstruction days before the northern trail started. Col. Pierce would sometimes stay in camp with us two or three days waiting to get the cattle shaped up. He was a great talker and would keep all the boys awake until midnight, laughing at his thrilling stories. He owned a large ranch on the coast, but his cattle were not fat and he would buy beeves to ship to Cuba, New Orleans and St. Louis, and he often came to Goliad, Bee, Live Oak and many other counties to get fat beeves. He kept this up until 1867, when the trail started north, and he became one of the biggest trail drivers of Texas, and became nationally known. During the money panic of 1873, which all old timers remember and but few operators survived, Colonel Shanghai Pierce pulled off some stunts that baffled the Yankees. He sent many herds up every year for several years from Matagorda county ranch in his straight mark and brand. His coast steers became known from the Rio Grande to the Canadian line as Shanghai Pierce's sea lions. Mr. Pierce was a loud talker, and no man who ever saw him or heard him talk ever forgot his voice or appearance. He was a money maker, empire builder, and a wonder to his friends and I believe to himself. His old ranch is now stocked with one of the best herds of Brahma cattle in the state, and is operated by Mr. A. P. Borden."
J. D. HOUSTON
J. D. (Dunn) Houston was born November 18, 1850, in Dewitt county, Texas, and died in San Antonio a few years ago. He was raised in the cattle business and
knew it thoroughly. During the trail days Mr. Houston drove many herds to different northern markets and became well and favorably known from the Rio Grande to the Canadian line. He owned large cattle ranches in Gonzales and other counties in Texas. For many years he owned and operated a large ranch on the Pecos River. At the time of his death he was a large stockholder in the Lockwood National Bank of San Antonio. It would require volumes to describe Mr. Houston's extensive operations and great achievements. No one man has done more for the development of Texas than Dunn Houston.
[photo omitted — DUNN HOUSTON]
BOB HOUSTON
[photo omitted — BOB HOUSTON]
R. A. (Bob) Houston was born April 25, 1849, in Dewitt county, Texas, and died February 1, 1895. He was raised on a cattle ranch and followed the cattle business all of his life, becoming one of the large trail drivers and sending many herds to northern markets, during the time maintaining large cattle ranches in this state, mostly in Gonzales county. All who knew Bob Houston liked him, for he was of a mirthful nature and could pull off more stunts purely for fun than any man in the country.
Seldom it is that when a bunch of stockmen congregated that you can't hear something recalled by them that Bob Houston said or did. He was the life of his company, at the chuck wagon, on the road, up at the branding pen, on the trail, at the markets, at Bank directors' meetings, or weddings, balls and at home. He left a host of friends.
JESS McCOY
[photo omitted — JESS MCCOY]
Jess McCoy was born in Mississippi, July 27, 1841, died March 12, 1920. He came to Texas with his parents in 1848, settling in Gonzales county, where he lived all of his life. After serving four years in the Confederate army, Mr. McCoy entered the cattle business and was among the first to drive herds to Kansas. He followed the trail for many years and became well and favorably known on all the northern markets and all over South Texas. Jess McCoy was one of the most honorable and substantial stockmen of his section, and his many good deeds will be remembered by those who knew him.
ON THE FORT WORTH AND DODGE CITY TRAIL
T. J. Burkett, Sr., Waelder, Texas
While stationed in a line camp on the south line of the R2 Ranch in Walbarger county during the month of May, 1883, a message came stating that I was wanted
to go up the trail, and at once to go to the R2 headquarters situated on Mule Creek, a tributary to Red River. Within three days every employee and the herd was ready to hit the Fort Worth and Dodge City trail. The herd was owned by Stephens & Worsham, and was bossed by Daniel P. Gipson. The first night out a thunder storm came up and the cattle stampeded and we ran them all night. I held between 400 and 500, and Billie Gatling held about 600 until after daylight, when several of the boys helped us bring them back to camp. We had 1,800 steers in that herd and it took several days to gather all of them up.
We crossed near Doan's, where the Dodge City trail crosses Red River, and resumed our long and tiresome journey in the direction of the north star. Hour by hour, step by step and day by day we pursued our way, not knowing the hardships that were in store for us. We had from one to three rains a week. Our route lay through the Indian Territory, where the range was a paradise for the long horn. One night we had a stampede in the Wichita Mountains, and when the sun rose on the bedground the next morning there was not a steer in sight. After three days' hard work we again had them ready to wend their way to a distant clime beyond the sands of the Cimarron.
One day Quannah Parker, accompanied by another Indian came to me and wanted "wohaw, plenty fat, heap slick." I pointed to Gipson and told Quannah he was the wohaw chief, but the little Indian shook his head and said Gipson was "no bueno.” Gipson told me to ride into the herd and cut them out a yearling, and they went off with it. There were about 500 Indians camped near the trail, and nearly every herd that passed gave them a beef. Hundreds of cowboys knew Quannah Parker, and he had scores of friends among the white people. After we passed out of the Indian Territory we soon discovered that we had arrived at a Sahara in America.
The grass was burned to a crisp, stock water was scarce, provisions were high and everything in the vegetable line was scarce. Irish potatoes the size of a hickory nut were $2.50 per bushel. Sometimes the boss had to pay $10 to water the herd. People there informed us that it had not rained there in seven months, and it looked to me like it had not rained in seven years. Holding one foot on the Kansas soil and the other on Territory soil was like having one foot in the submerged alluvial soil of the Nile and the other out in the desert where it had not rained enough to wet a pocket handkerchief in a hundred years. The cool nights and almost unbearable heat in the daytime about got the best of the cowboys.
Two days after we struck camp southwest of Dodge City several of the cowboys were excused by the boss to go to town for supplies. Soon after they arrived there they began to "tank up" on mean whiskey and proceeded to shoot up the town. As they came out at a high rate of speed one of them, John Briley, was killed by the marshal of Dodge City. I was in Dodge City the next day and saw that he was buried. Associating with bad company has cost many a man his life.
Man dieth and goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the street. At the cemetery in Dodge City I noticed a number of fresh mounds, and I said to the sexton there that an epidemic of some kind must have struck that place, but he said the graves were those of desperadoes who had died with their boots on. While looking around I noticed on a small tombstone the following inscription: "Here rests Mary Hamilton, aged 14." Then came the following lines:
"Weep not for me my parents dear,
I am not dead, but only sleeping here.
I was not yours alone,
But God's who loved me best, and took me home."
Before we reached Dodge City Mr. Gipson received a message that Stephens & Worsham had 1,500 steers on the trail and to wait until they arrived, as they wanted to put both herds together. When one herd was made out of the two, making 3,350 head, all of the scrub employees were turned off and all of the stout, able-bodied men were selected to go on with the herd. Mr. Gipson returned to Texas and Frank Watson took charge of the outfit, and we proceeded on our way. An old trail driver told me that after a herd crossed the Arkansas River they would never stampede again. I was only pleased to find that his statement was true, for they did not stampede again. Solve this mystery if you can.
After we crossed the Kansas and Nebraska line we had a lovely range and plenty of water through Nebraska. When we crossed the plains of that state, for a distance of 75 miles we did not see a stick of timber as large as a hoe handle and there was not a single house on this immense domain, not a creek or a river. Luckily for us heavy rains had fallen over the entire plains, and we had water. Old cowmen claim that on this stretch of plains the mercury often drops to thirty degrees below zero, and it is snow-bound for several weeks at a time. During severe winters it is impossible for anything to live there in the open.
After leaving the Nebraska line we crossed over into Colorado, and there had the pleasure of feasting our eyes on the most beautiful range that was ever beheld by a cowboy. The gramma grass was half a knee high, and was mixed with nutritious white grass that was waist high, waiving in the breeze like a wheat field. We drove up the Arickaree, a distance of about 100 miles, and had a picnic along this bubbling stream every day. The Arickaree was a tributary of the Platte River. We delivered our cattle near Deer Trail, Colorado, fifty miles southeast of Denver, and sixty-five miles east of the foot of the Rocky Mountains, on September 25th, 1883, to a