by S. Smith
Mr. Brann was the same way, except he used the power of his press in order to settle things. You may recall, after the Baylor episode with his article called “Of Ropes and Revolvers,” he called out the people involved directly, but also called for a truce on both sides.
Apparently this truce was one-sided as the other side didn’t participate. Some of the Baylor college boys would sit outside Mr. Brann’s home and chant “Get out of Waco, Brann,” or “You signed the paper, Old Man, now get out!” Although there weren’t any more Prayer Meetings like the previous one, to my knowledge, the Baptists continued to unofficially gather together to come up with ways to get Brann out of town.
The industrialists thought the attention that Mr. Brann was bringing to Waco was having a detrimental effect on commerce and the growth of the city. As an example, the Masons were looking for a place to build the new Masonic Orphan’s Home. This had been in the works for years. Waconians thought they had a good chance of winning it for their town. However, it was not to be. Instead the Masons picked the city of Arlington, about a hundred miles north of Waco. Mr. Brann got the blame for this. There were even rumors of other cities calling Waco Brannville. The competition was quite tough for things such as this.
There were a few local townsfolk who wanted to build a memorial statue to the dead Harris brothers. Many people in and around Waco thought that the Harris brothers had been trying to ambush Judge Gerald. The idea of building a monument to what Mr. Brann considered a couple of failed assassins just fanned the flames of disgust for him.
This was too much for Mr. Brann. In the February 1898 issue of the Iconoclast, he called off his self-imposed truce. In his article, “The Why and Wherefore,” Mr. Brann went over the edge. Inez and I believe it ultimately caused the upcoming violence.
The first thing that Mr. Brann did was go after the City of Waco. He blasted them for not being able to execute their grand plans. He said of Waco, “She does an infinite deal of cackling but lays no eggs.” He even went after Mr. Cameron the Lumber baron, for his greed, calling him Uncle Wilyum. Then he went after some of the local business men, “Of course, there are some black sheep among them, a few virulent scabs, intellectual inanities, Baptists, and other moral abnormalities.” Next he went after Baylor, saying that the Masons didn’t want to build in a city, “whose chief educational institute has privately encouraged and publicly approved mob violence, the determination of questions of fact by appeal to brute force – the attempted suppression of truth by a peremptory order to ‘leave town.’” He went after the supporters of the Harris brothers. He said the Masons didn’t want “to commit their loved ones to the care of a community that has ostentatiously eulogized a brace of would-be assassins who ‘double-banked’ a crippled Confederate colonel.” He criticized the Harris brothers directly by calling one Harris brother an “ignorant but pompous amateur editor of an unprincipled little peewee paper.” He said of the other Harris brother that he, “shot Judge Gerald in the back, then ran like a frightened jack-rabbit.” He directly attacked Big Brother Carroll by calling him, “Kid Carroll, the intellectual tomtit who’s serving God for the long green and preaching a crusade of blood against the Iconoclast.”
He wasn’t through yet. He offered to pay for a monument to the Harris brothers, but only if he could have it sculpted exactly the way it happened, with them running from the fight and fumbling for their guns.
He said he came to Waco to call the sinners to repentance, and that in Waco he found more sinners in proportion to the population than anywhere else this side of the dominions of the devil.
He threatened if he was provoked one more time, Baylor would receive an iconoclastic revelation that will make the one engineered by the lamented John of Patmos seem like an iridescent dream. He called Baylor a pseudo-sacrosanct institution that would tuck its flea-bitten tail between its hinder legs and flee unto the mountains of Hespidam.
His final statement in this piece was a plea, “Sweet Christians, if you want peace, I prithee go cork yourselves.”
About the same time, Cranny’s Baptist newspaper office had conveniently burned to the ground in Waco, offering Cranny a handsome insurance payoff. He then partnered up with a Mr. Slaughter and decided to move the newspaper to Dallas. This didn’t align with the Waco Policy. At that point, however, I think things were getting so hot in Waco, with all the shootings, the Iconoclast paper’s constant badgering, etc., that perhaps the policy was being modified. Anyway, Mr. Brann decided that he would give Cranny a “sendoff” in the Iconoclast. Mr. Brann said in Salmagundi, “Ta, Ta Jehovah Boanerges. As the country editor once remarked at the absquatulation of another rascal, ‘Your removal from our midst fills a long felt want.’”
Yes, Mr. Brann went completely over the top with his writing at this point. He insulted almost everyone in town. After this, it was reported in the local paper that Mr. Brann was seen around town with a gun in his possession. Mr. Brann knew that he had gone over the top and started carrying a gun, likely as a warning to those who might want to do him harm.
Chapter 11
THE SHOOTOUT
There is nothing prettier in the world than Texas in the springtime. Texas summers are hot and muggy, especially after a rain. The grass in the late summer is scorched by the hot Texas sun and everything except for the trees are a burnt brown color. Winters can have cold days, even getting down into single digits on the Fahrenheit scale. We do occasionally have days in winter that seem more like spring or summer days. These winter days where the mid-day temperatures get into the eighties are enjoyable Indian summer days. Unfortunately, it confuses the trees on when they should bud. Fall can be a bit windy, but it’s generally nice with moderate temperatures.
But nothing beats springtime in Texas. It is just plain glorious. The spring rains turn the grass a deep lush green that makes a fine pallet for an hour nap in the early afternoons. The Cottonwood trees are in full bloom, showing off their maiden foliage. Then there are the wildflowers. God compensates for all the other seasons in Texas when he paints his wildflower canvases. Sometimes they blanket vast fields as far as the eye can see. The colors are brilliant, with bright blues from the Bluebonnets, oranges and reds from the Indian Paintbrushes, and a host of other purples, whites, and reds from wine cups, daisies, Indian blankets, etc. I love to walk through them and be engulfed and even overwhelmed by their strong fragrance. It piques the senses in enjoyable ways and provides a brief glimpse of heaven.
Brann’s fateful day happened in mid-Spring when the aroma was thick from the vast colorful flower blankets nearby. The Brazos River was still ice cold, but if you got in and out really quickly, it was bearable. A quick dip was a great substitute for a bath, as I told my Mother when she was alive. At the same time, my relationship with Inez continued to bloom.
It was late afternoon on a Friday, around 6 p.m. The city was still bustling but people were getting off work. The bars were starting to do business. It was still a bit early for the Reservation. Things usually didn’t start hopping there until around 8 or 9.
I was at the Old Corner Drug Store, hanging out and drinking a Dr. Pepper. Mr. Brann was walking quickly up the street to meet Mr. Ward, his manager. He smiled and rubbed my head as he always did. The April Iconoclast was out, as it always came out on the first day of the month, and the day was April the 1st. Mr. Brann was usually in a jovial mood after the paper came out as it meant a few days of relaxation before he had to start writing articles for the next month’s edition.
I saw the two men meet on the street. Mr. Ward often met up with Mr. Brann to discuss business, particularly after a recent publication. Mr. Ward often arranged meetings and speaking engagements for Mr. Brann. Mr. Brann, being quite the orator, always had a speech prepared. I heard that when he was on a roll, he would deviate greatly from the prepared speech and talk extemporaneously about whatever was happening in the city or town where he was talking that day. He had such a talent to quickly take any event, develop an opinion about it, an
d so eloquently provide his opinion, that he astonished people.
Inez told me that Mr. and Mrs. Brann planned to take the morning train to San Antonio for his next speaking engagement. This was a bit odd as usually Mrs. Brann stayed at home with the kids, Inez, Gracie and Billy, while Mr. Brann would go on the speaking tours alone. While Gracie was twelve and Billy was eight, Inez was a grown-up seventeen years old. This time the Branns apparently thought she was old enough to stay home alone with the younger children for a few days. They knew all the neighbors, who would periodically look in after them to make sure everything was okay.
I saw Mr. Brann and Mr. Ward come out of the Post Office and head north on the west side of 4th street. I was still drinking my Dr. Pepper as I watched them pass Finnie William’s Real Estate office, where Captain Tom E. Davis worked.
All of a sudden and without provocation, Davis came out, pulled his pistol and shot Mr. Brann. The bullet hit Mr. Brann right square in the back, where his suspenders meet. The shot didn’t take him down but Mr. Brann struggled to remain on his feet. Then I saw the most amazing thing. Mr. Brann got his wits about him, pulled his own revolver, and unloaded it into Davis in quick succession. Mr. Brann must have been practicing his shooting because he fired all six shots at Davis within a matter of seconds.
Mr. Ward realized that Davis had just shot Mr. Brann in the back. So, he ran over to Davis and put his hand over the muzzle of the gun. Davis didn’t even hesitate and shot Mr. Ward right through his hand. Davis then started shooting at Mr. Brann again. Mr. Ward quickly jumped aside when Mr. Brann pulled his gun and started firing back. Davis, though hit, fell to the ground, rolled, and kept shooting at Mr. Brann. When the shooting stopped, Davis had four bullet holes in him, while Mr. Brann, who was still standing had three.
Deputy Fuller ran to the scene as did I. The smoke in the air was thick from the shooting. He arrested the still standing Mr. Brann. He escorted him down Austin Avenue, a block and a half to City Hall, with Mr. Brann talking the entire way. He kept asking Deputy Fuller why Davis would shoot at him like that without warning. He kept saying that he was surprised and upset about it. He knew that Davis had a daughter going to Baylor and was surprised that Davis would act like that just due to his daughter perhaps being offended.
When we got to City Hall, Mr. Brann’s shoes were completely full of blood. The deputy didn’t realize the seriousness of Mr. Brann’s wounds. He had lost a lot of blood on the walk down the street. Some folks speculated that the blood loss from this walk to City Hall may actually have killed Mr. Brann. They put him on a cot where he was treated by a local physician. By this time, the pain had hit Mr. Brann, and he was in agony. In the meantime, Davis was hauled into a back room of the real estate office and was treated as well.
Davis also talked a lot while writhing in pain. He made up a cockamamie story about Mr. Brann and Mr. Ward passing him by several times, and each time threatening him, calling him names and cursing at him. Davis also said that Mr. Brann pulled his pistol and shot first. Everyone who saw anything about the fight knew better. I saw Mr. Ward meet Mr. Brann only minutes before. Mr. Ward still had his buggy gloves on when the shooting occurred, which is evidence in itself that he had just gotten out of the buggy to meet Mr. Brann. The two men had greeted each other only three to five minutes before, which was not enough time to have passed by Davis twice. In all the time I knew Mr. Brann, I never knew him to curse in public. He was much too intelligent to use foul language. He had a quiver full of words in his vocabulary that could inflict much more damage than cussing. The fact that Davis said that Mr. Brann cursed at him was more evidence that Davis was lying.
I suspect the reason Davis told this pre-mortem story was that he wasn’t expecting to get hurt. I’m positive that Davis thought that Mr. Brann would go down in one or two shots tops, and that he himself would not be hurt at all. So he concocted this story beforehand so when he was arrested, he could claim provocation and self-defense. Everyone knew that Mr. Brann carried a pistol on him ever since the Prayer meeting and subsequent beating in front of the Provident. It even made the local newspapers. Mr. Brann wanted to make sure he was prepared for the next difficulty that might come his way.
Davis thought he could claim self-defense if Mr. Brann was armed and he believed he was in imminent danger. What Davis didn’t calculate was that Mr. Brann had been practicing his shooting skills. After Judge Gerald’s apparent ambush by the Harris brothers, the Judge didn’t think that he would need his pistol anymore, so he gave his pistol to Mr. Brann. The Judge practiced shooting with him, to help train him on firing the gun. When Mr. Brann turned, pulled his weapon and put a couple of slugs into Davis, I bet Davis was thinking, “This was not supposed to happen this way.”
I have to give Mr. Ward credit for at least making the fight fair. After Davis shot Mr. Brann in the back, Mr. Ward ran over to Davis and grabbed the muzzle of the gun. This action likely gave Mr. Brann time to regain his composure, pull out his pistol and fire off a shot. If Mr. Ward had not done this and had not taken the shot in his hand that was intended for Mr. Brann, Davis would likely have killed Mr. Brann dead without any wounds to himself. As it was, Mr. Brann was able to unload four of the six shots of his gun into Davis, thus inflicting mortal wounds.
Davis died the next day. Sadly Mr. Brann succumbed to his mortal injuries the next day as well. I remember the funeral services, as I tagged along to both. The funeral procession for Mr. Davis was at least seven blocks long, originating from the Davis’ residence on Dallas Street in East Waco. It turned right from Dallas Street onto Elm Street and then to Bridge Street. It crossed the Suspension Bridge and took a hard turn left towards First Street cemetery. At the grave site, several people spoke about what a good man Davis was, and how tragic the event.
Several people said that Mr. Brann started the fight and what a terrible assassin he was. They played the song, “O Uncloudy Day.” The funeral was well attended by the Baptists of the town and several of the Baylor trustees were pallbearers.
Right after it was over, I rode my bike the mile or so back to where Mr. Brann’s funeral was finishing up at his house. I saw Mrs. Brann cut a couple of Mr. Brann’s prize roses from his rose garden in the front yard and place them in his hands inside the casket. As the hearse carried the coffin towards Oakwood, Mrs. Brann, Inez, Gracie, and Billy were in a buggy directly following it. I wanted to join them, but the buggy was full and I didn’t want to intrude on the family at this time. I rode my bike down the hill of 5th street and waited for the buggy. As it slowly passed I sadly looked at Inez. Her face was flush from her tears. She had a white kerchief in her hand and she was wearing all black. My emotions went sky high when I saw her. I wanted to rush to her and protect her, but felt that I would be out of place at this sad moment. I was so angry at Davis for doing this I wanted to kill him all over again. I was glad he was dead! Slowly I tagged along behind the procession on my bike.
The sidewalks on 5th Street where the Branns lived, all the way to Baylor University, were completely lined with people. Some put roses on the coffin as it passed, other cried, while still others stood silent in respect. As the procession traversed the Baylor campus, the sidewalks were eerily empty, with only a handful of folks paying their respects. Right after the campus they were full again, all the way to Oakwood Cemetery. Mr. Brann had an even bigger crowd than Davis. Several people spoke at his funeral, with Mr. Shaw saying, “Waco will not likely see a person of his intellect again in quite some time.”
After they lowered the casket into the ground and they sang, “O Uncloudy Day,” I went up to Inez but didn’t say a word. Enough had been said and anything that I could possibly say would be meaningless. She was hurting, as was I, and we didn’t have to say anything to communicate this to each other except our hug.
The sun was starting to set. The rain that had been threatening all day, started its slow drenching drizzle that is so common in Texas in April. The family got back into the buggy and I went home. Although I
wanted to be with Inez, I knew that her family needed her more than I did at the time. So I went back to the toll booth, ate a quick bite and went to bed, although my mind was racing so much through all the thoughts of the day that I didn’t sleep well that night.
I went back out to both gravesites the next day and was surprised by the mound of flowers and other items at Davis’ grave. Then I went to Oakwood and saw the bigger mound of flowers, notes, etc., that were on Mr. Brann’s grave. I thought about all that had happened and what was said at the sites and the songs that the mourner’s sang. Both men were loved so dearly by large parts of the community. They were both in the primes of their lives. They both had beautiful families who adored them. They were both strong-willed and yet deeply flawed men. And now they were both stone cold dead men. I thought to myself, they fought each other like a couple of wild lions fighting to the death over territory. It’s a sad commentary on our society.
Yes, it was a beautiful day with the previous night’s rain prompting all the local Texas Bluebonnets to open their cloves and transmit their thick aroma into the air. It was such a familiar and comforting fragrance that I momentarily forgot the ugliness of the previous day. It was fitting that they had sung “O Uncloudy Day” at both services, since the day was indeed uncloudy and one of God’s beautiful spring days in Texas. But I knew that very dark clouds were hanging over Inez and I wanted to do something about it.
I picked a handful of Bluebonnets and went straight to her house. I gave them to her and let her know that I was there for her if she ever needed anything. I wanted to do more, but what could I possibly do to bring back her beloved father? I felt utterly useless as I looked into her teary eyes.
Within an eight-month period and within one city block, six men had been killed in three separate shoot outs: the Kivett brothers, the Harris brothers, Davis, and Mr. Brann. Three of the men had been killed by the same gun, Davis and the Harris brothers. This little Baptist town in the heart of Texas next to a briny river named for the “Arm of God” was very much a place of contrasts.