Footloose Scot

by Jim Glendinning

  Hispanics make up half of the population and Spanish is widely spoken around town. Later, I would interview Hispanic old timers on a local radio station and hear stories of Hispanics being spat on and verbally insulted during the 1950s and1960s. Today in Alpine Hispanics have risen to the highest levels in government, education and business and a respectful attitude prevails between the two communities. There is neighborly courtesy (a greeting, holding open a door) in places like banks and the post office, and even at City Council meetings.

  After travelling to 136 countries I now call Alpine home and am happy there. Cycling or walking around town gives me as a newcomer a good insight. People here look you in the eye, a Texan characteristic. When walking around the perimeter of the golf course I'm as likely as not to be greeted by a couple of teenage girls walking a dog: "Hi there!" they might say sociably, rather ignoring me. The only time that I can remember upsetting people was when I did not acknowledge them in the street. I would explain that since I was concentrating on riding my bike I couldn't see them through their tinted car window.

  Football is a religion here, something which since I never came through the Alpine high school system I will never really get the hang of. I can understand the competitive drive to win since I was brought up in a school in another country, one which was not defeated in the five years I attended; but the game was rugby. In the USA I see the sporting desire to win as an essential part in the need to succeed the capitalist business world. Sports booster in chief and heart and soul of the community is affable Ray Hendryx, Alpine's radio station proprietor. For me, a day without listening to Ray is about unthinkable.

  Real religion is served by 23 churches, not a surprising number I'm told for a Texas town of this size. The bewildering number must reflect America's passion for choice. My late best friend, Gerry Finn, who taught Latin at a private school in Houston, once said that, if he wanted to make a million, he would start a church. He would most likely have succeeded since he had the twin assets of being an unconventional charismatic speaker and having a scholar's grounding in Greek and Latin.

  In addition to government jobs modern Alpine relies on tourism. The commercial part of town lies along US 90 and comprises motels and fast food outlets, restaurants and retail stores. Recently art galleries and specialty shops have opened. The university sits on a hill overlooking the town, with a tree-filled campus and dignified-looking buildings. It has an excellent state-of-the-art museum and a large new events center.

  Below the university is a nine-hole golf course and nearby an outdoor summer theater, and beyond that an historic baseball field built in 1947 by a local rancher named Kokernot. A new hospital has been built to the north of town opposite the airport. Downtown is anchored by the historic Holland Hotel (built in 1912) and the Amtrak station. On the south side of the railroad tracks are the homes, many of which are small adobe structures, where the majority of the Hispanic community lives.

  In May 1994 I had just arrived just arrived in Alpine and was getting ready to open the Corner House. One morning I walked downtown to the post office to arrange a PO Box number. Waling back along the principal street I crossed over to buy a soda at the supermarket. On my way out, I noticed a police officer who was standing at the corner of the building who was waving at me to approach him. He asked who I was and to show ID. I had in fact noticed a police car approaching as I crossed the street, but had thought nothing of it.

  What Officer Rodgers, whose name I saw from his badge, noticed was a stranger walking (not all that common, apparently) who crossed the street when he saw a police car. Without challenging the officer's account, I identified myself and said I was the new owner of the new Corner House Bed & Breakfast.

  He nodded and looked at my ID. I was somewhat taken aback by the suspicion (crossing a street on foot, walking on a sidewalk!) but on the other hand maybe I should have been happy to know that the Alpine Police Department was alert in spotting strangers. It was more unsettling than reassuring - more like big city than small town. As I was to discover, this early surprise was not typical of Alpine behavior. In only a couple of years I felt quite accepted in this small town, and began to see the advantages of small town life: openness, civic cohesion, relaxed lifestyle, and some cultural events without big city negatives (traffic jams, noise, tension).

  With the help of an English friend from Houston, June Hughes (an excellent cook), I opened The Corner House Bed & Breakfast in 1995 with four rooms. Later that number was increased to six rooms including the basement which had beds at hostel prices. The adjacent garage was subsequently converted into four more rooms, which were rented monthly. There was a pleasant dining area with small tables, and a sitting room with a fireplace. The look of the place was old fashioned, with an international flavor: Scottish and Welsh flags on the front of the building and British prints on the walls inside.

  We got off to a good start. A local paper wrote an article and The Chamber of Commerce did a ribbon cutting. We soon decided to open for lunch for Alpine residents - a wise move which got us known to the local population and made them familiar to us. For breakfast I baked bread, made marmalade and cooked a breakfast dish called Egg in the Hole. This dish, which could be made to look like a human face, amused the guests and became the most popular breakfast item. June cooked some British specialties like shepherd's pie and bread-and-butter pudding.

  A neighbor suggested that a Bed & Breakfast should have cats. No sooner had I agreed than the local Humane Society arrived with two cats for my approval. Our two cats, Harry and Smokey, proved a big hit with most guests. They had a habit when guests arrived of following them to their rooms and watching them unpack, "Like they were checking us out" said one amused guest.

  The cats proved a challenge when dealing with the local Health Inspector. I had called this hard-working man before I arrived, asking for his advice. I had previously taken a food handler's course in Houston so I knew something of the basic health requirements when preparing food for public consumption. But I had neglected to take into account Harry and Smokey.

  A Bed & Breakfast combines private accommodation for the owner and space open to the public: the bedrooms and the dining room. We were not only cooking breakfast for guests but also open for lunch to Alpine residents so the kitchen and dining room were liable for inspection by the health inspector. On one occasion he arrived, unannounced, entering through the back door of the building which leads directly into the kitchen. At that moment, unfortunately, Harry was taking a nap in a salad bowl on the kitchen table, clearly visible.

  It was too late to make excuses, and my embarrassment was about the same as the health inspector's. He wished he wasn't witness to the infringement, and I wished I had put door closers on the kitchen door so that Harry couldn't stroll in from the private part of the house. But there he was, off limits. "I'll get door closers on these doors right away, Jeff, so this can't happen again." I told him. Later, while we were sitting in the dining room going over his list of items needing attention, Smokey ambled through the door and hopped up on table next to the health inspector as if examining his presence. "I'll put door closers on this door, too," I assured him. The good man sighed, and went off to inspect other restaurants.

  CORNER HOUSE BED & BREAKFAST

  ALPINE, TEXAS

  As we got known in the community our numbers at lunch grew till we were serving 25 to 30 persons daily. In addition, we sometimes did special meals and functions in the evening, like a Murder Mystery play. We once staged a Burns Supper, an annual banquet celebrating Robert Burns, Scotland's national poet., something quite new for Alpine.

  Each year on the anniversary of his birth, groups of expatriate Scots come together to attend a Burns supper. This is a sit-down dinner with haggis being the main course. Haggis, Scotland's national dish, is a sausage-like dish made out of sheep innards and with the meal there is always entertainment. I have been at a Burns supper in Houston with as many as 600 people present.

  At The Corner Ho
use Burns Supper 1997 25 persons were present. A local lady called Barbara had undertaken to make the haggis, a brave gesture - and a successful one. She went to the abattoir at the Range Animal Science Department at the university to get the ingredients, which she then stuffed in a sausage skin, having added oatmeal to offset the fat content. The problem was that, while cooking, the haggis shrunk and was obviously not enough for 25 persons, even with a small portion. So Barbara then had to make a second haggis, with less enthusiasm than the first, but still the real thing.

  On the evening of the Burns Supper (January 28th) everything was ready. Most of the guests had some connection to Scottish ancestors, and some wore some tartan. I was fully dressed in kilt, jacket and sporran even including the dirk (knife) which tucks into the top of the wool hose. A bagpiper arrived by train from Houston. Once everyone had sat down, the bagpiper then marched around the house playing his pipes, and I followed carrying the two haggises on a platter. During the meal poems by Robert Burns were recited including one which I narrated Ode to a Haggis, during which I plunged the dagger into the steaming haggis. Everyone had a great evening, washing down the haggis with Scotch whisky.

  Usually, days and evenings were not so eventful. But they were long. Offering rooms and food, and inviting the public at any hour into your house which is also your home, is a recipe for long hours and little time off. Also, during the early days, when every booking was important, if we were busy I would give up my room and bed and sleep on a couch or even in the garden. It was a tiring but satisfying life.

  What made the long hours tolerable were the guests. There is something about Bed & Breakfast guests which sets them apart from general tourists. In five years I had no disagreeable visitors, nothing stolen or damaged and only two bad checks. If I was out I left a note and people checked themselves in. The front door was never locked.

  I had repeat visitors who came every year, often for Alpine's main events like the Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Intercollegiate Rodeo or Art Walk. What was rewarding was to see first-time visitors, who had perhaps driven 570 miles from Houston, starting to relax after a couple of days. The problem was that, having allowed only two nights, they then had to leave. But it was good to hear them say, after a satisfying breakfast, that they would come back. And many did.

  The guests were mainly couples in their middle years. When The Corner House got mentioned in guidebooks and magazines we attracted a more general clientele, including overseas visitors. Texas Highways magazine did a feature on Alpine which included a picture of me standing outside the house, under the Scottish flag, wearing my kilt. Moon Publications guidebook " Texas" gave The Corner House a full paragraph plus a photograph.

  The maximum capacity of guests after some improvements in the house was 11 persons, including two beds in the basement for budget travelers. To keep the rooms full I offered a discount to residents of Terlingua. I was always curious about people who lived in the ghost town of Terlingua, 80 miles south of Alpine, close to the border with Mexico. They had the reputation of being oddballs, artists and writers, escapees from some prior unpleasant history, PhDs and more generally just folks who wanted to live far from rules and regulations in the quiet and beauty of the desert. Some lived extremely simply, hauling their own water and without air-conditioning. The ones who stayed during the summer months were considered the real thing.

  Sometimes they came to Alpine to shop or for medical attention. One Terlingua man turned up one day and asked if there was a discount. I said yes, and told him what it was. He had to stay overnight, so he accepted. He mentioned that he always got a headache when he came to Alpine. I assumed it might be because of the change in elevation since Alpine is 2,500 feet high than Terlingua. But he told me that it was because of the heavy traffic passing along US 90 which runs through Alpine. To me the relatively small amount of traffic was nothing, but he saw if differently. The Ghost Town is a special place and people there relish the peacefulness and simplicity. My special deal for Terlingua residents paid off in a different way since they voted me best Bed & Breakfast in the region once or twice.

  Sunday mornings were busiest. Some people, who had come to Alpine for an event on Saturday night, wanted an early breakfast before the long drive home. So I started breakfasts at 7 a.m. which meant getting ready from 6 a.m. On Sundays I also cooked breakfasts for the monthly rental tenants in the rooms in the garage. On one Sunday, I went across to the garage rooms to wake up one of the tenants, at her request. I heard a noise from one of the rooms I thought was empty since the tenant had gone home for the weekend. I noticed a dusty old Volvo parked outside. I pushed open the door, and saw two people in bed with a young child.

  I had never seen them before, so I said "Who are you?" The young man said apologetically that they were driving back from Zacatecas, Mexico to Dallas. By the time they crossed into Texas and reached Alpine, they were exhausted, and it was 2 a.m. They saw the Bed & Breakfast sign, and tried the door to one of the rooms in the old garage building. The door was unlocked, and the bed made up. The rest of the house was asleep, including me. So they settled in. Their story was so convincing that I said "No problem, come into the house for breakfast. And you can pay me then".

  After four years I was starting to feel part of the community, although I knew realistically that, among country people, that only happened after a generation or two. I always received great courtesy in my dealing with local people. Age might have had something to do with this; also the fact that I was a foreigner which I felt was better than a damn Yankee. The only time I got complaints was when people said I didn't wave to them as they passed in the street. The trouble was I was usually on my bicycle concentrating on the road and, in any event, not at a good angle to see them through the tinted glass of their vehicles.

  After almost five years of operation I was feeling the strain of constant commitment. I found I was welcoming guests without the ready smile I showed previously. There was not much more to learn about the job, and The Corner House had proved itself, winning a Best Bed & Breakfast Award twice and helping to boost the local tourism economy. I put it on the market as a going concern complete with furniture and sold it quickly to a family from Houston who wanted to use it as their home. They are still there today, ten years later which makes me happy for them.

  The other five communities in the area each has a different character, and appeals to a different sort of person. Marfa, 26 miles west of Alpine, was economically dead until art tourism happened. Already the aluminum boxes of minimalist artist Donald Judd, who arrived in Marfa in the 1970s, were an attraction for art-minded visitors who began to visit, but slowly. The town really started to expand with the arrival in 1997 from Hpatrons and investors Tim and Lynne Crowley, who opened a bookshop and a theater. Others followed: a restaurateur from New York, an hotelier from Austin and a gallery owner from Santa Fe. Suddenly Marfa was cool. Today, the community has a new life as an arts town, and a set of new residents. House prices have rocketed, and some Hispanics feel they have lost their town.

  Fort Davis, to the north of Alpine, has changed much less and remains more traditional - their July 4th parade sets the standard. But it has also grown through its nearby residential communities. The area as a whole has seen an increase in population, and not just retirees attracted by the weather and the beauty of the landscape. Working age individuals and couples have arrived to start new businesses, and many have stayed. Now taking a yoga class or drinking a cup of espresso is considered normal behavior.

  Marathon, the smallest community with a population of 600, has changed least externally. Yet here, too, there are more new residents who now live in the village year-round or who have second homes there. Eighty miles south of Alpine, Terlingua/Study Butte has grown larger and has lost some of its unconventionality but still retains an appeal for non-conformists and artists. To get an idea of the local characters, try sitting on the porch of the Terlingua Trading Company around sunset drinking a beer.

  PART III, CHAPTE
R 12

  IN THE TRAVEL INDUSTRY

  _______

  2000's

  TOURS TO MEXICO

  TEXAS/MEXICO BORDER

  The major tourist attraction in the sparsely populated tri county area of West Texas is Big Bend National Park. The three counties are Brewster, Jeff Davis and Presidio, with a combined area of 12,304 square miles and total population of 19,392 (2010); the area is also called the Davis Mountains/Big Bend region. The Big Bend National Park (BBNP) occupies 300,000 acres of desert, mountain and river and is visited by up to 400,000 persons a year. Its name, coined by an early surveyor, comes from the fact that the Rio Grande, flowing to the southeast and forming the southern boundary of the park, abruptly changes its course and turns almost 90 degrees forming a big bend for some miles before resuming it original direction. Across the river lies Mexico.

  Before 9/11, BBNP visitors could cross the Rio Grande by boat to two small Mexican villages for a meal, a drink or to buy trinkets. A flat-bottom wooden boat, paddled by a Mexican, would cross over from the Mexican side and pick up anyone waiting. The novelty about these crossings was that there were no immigration or customs checks. For two dollars round trip, one could in three or four minutes pass from the order and richness of the US to the dust and poverty of a Mexican village.

  The reason for this passport- and Customs-free waiver was the fact that a similar arrangement was in operation on the Canadian border and that there was a Mexican national park developing on the other side of the river. The U.S. National Park Service saw these unofficial border crossing points as an added attraction to the Big Bend National Park, and the chance to provide a quick peek at a different culture. The economic impact on Mexican communities across from the park, Boquillas and Santa Elena, was huge; the visiting tourists kept those villages alive. A third community, Paso Lajitas, across the Rio Grande from the resort of Lajitas offered a similar ferry service.