Alamo Traces
New Evidence and New
Conclusions
Thomas Ricks Lindley
Copyright © 2003 by Thomas Ricks Lindley
All rights reserved.
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Published by Republic of Texas Press
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lindley, Thomas Ricks.
Alamo traces : new evidence and new conclusions / Thomas Ricks Lindley.
p. cm.
Includes index.
ISBN: 978-1-55622-983-1
1. Alamo (San Antonio, Tex.)—Siege, 1836. I. Title.
F390 .L54 2003
976.4’03—dc21
2002152692
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48–1992.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
For
Alvy and Ethel Pullin
Contents
Foreword by Stephen Harrigan
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Chapter One
Sam Houston and the Alamo: “Drawing Truthful Deductions”
Chapter Two
A Critical Study of a Critical Study: “Puzzling Questions”
Chapter Three
Travis’s Bones: Reinforcement of the Alamo
Chapter Four
Three-Legged Willie’s Entreaty: “Hold on Firmly”
Chapter Five
Moses, the Climbing Rose: Thorny Problems
Chapter Six
Louis and Stephen Rose: At the Walls of the Alamo
Chapter Seven
A Rose Is a Rose: Moses, Louis, and James M.
Chapter Eight
Mexican Casualties at the Alamo: Big and Little
Chapter Nine
Alamo Strays: Question and Answer
Conclusion
Appendices
Selected Bibliography
Index
Foreword
If there is such a thing as a dispassionate Alamo scholar, I’ve never met one. Even the soberest and tweediest of academic historians seem to have been infatuated, at an impressionable age, by the mysterious blend of annihilation and redemption that is at the core of the Alamo myth.
From time to time Thomas Ricks Lindley has tried to sell me on the idea that he is an exception to this rule, that his own interest in the subject is purely a matter of rational historical inquiry. But I know Alamo obsession when I see it. All the signs are there: the Alamo baseball cap on Tom’s head, the framed photograph of the cast of John Wayne’s The Alamo on his wall, the dog buried in the backyard whose name had been—what else?—Alamo.
But the quality that distinguishes Tom Lindley from garden-variety Alamoheads like myself, and that sometimes contentiously sets him apart from eminent historians working the same ground, is his grinding focus. I first met him about ten years ago in the Texas State Archives when I was beginning the research on my novel The Gates of the Alamo, and that is where he is still likely to be found today, still reading through old letters and muster rolls and military claims in musty old files that have never before been examined with such relentless scrutiny, if they have even been examined at all.
People who make their livings writing or teaching history tend to be, at least to some degree, generalists. Their goal is not just to discover facts but to interpret those facts within a broader context of thesis or theory or narrative. Tom Lindley is not a professional historian in that way, but neither is he what is sometimes condescendingly described as an “avocational” or “recreational” historian. He is a dead-serious specialist, a relentless researcher who for a decade and a half has been on the trail of one single thing: the unambiguous truth of the events of the siege and storming of the Alamo in 1836.
Lindley’s training for this work comes not from university instruction in historical methodology but from his early experience in the United States Army as a criminal investigator, from which he developed habits and attitudes that are perhaps more characteristic of the pursuit of justice than of conventional scholarship. For instance, Lindley’s innate skepticism is famous in the tight little world of Alamo researchers. Historians, of course, must routinely assay the relative credibility of their research material, but Lindley has a way of raising the stakes when it comes to considering whether or not a particular document is to be trusted. He seems to retain, from his days as an investigator, a visceral understanding that any source is apt to be lying. As a result, his tireless questioning of the authenticity or veracity of certain primary documents—from John Sutherland’s 1860 personal account of the first day of the Alamo siege to, most notoriously, the narrative of Mexican captain Jose Enrique de la Pena—has helped to hold Alamo research to a higher standard of credibility, even if it does occasionally annoy other historians who complain that Lindley has never met a document he likes.
His days as a criminal investigator might help to explain another quality in his work, the sense of an urgent and personal quest. Talking to Tom about his discoveries, sometimes arguing with him about his conclusions, I’ve often come away with the conviction that he is trying to solve not just a historical puzzle but an actual crime. In the case of the Alamo, the crime in question is what has been allowed to pass for the historical record.
In Alamo Traces, he attacks this record with such authority and doggedness that it is hard to imagine anyone writing about the Alamo in the future who would not have to seriously wrangle with his reassessments and reinterpretations. As Lindley himself admits, his book is not a popular history. It is, instead, a methodical, piece-by-piece dismantling of what we thought we knew, combined with convincing speculation about what might have really happened.
People will argue with some of Lindley’s conclusions. No doubt there will be a howl of outrage among Sam Houston’s many partisans after they have read the first chapter, in which the once-unassailable hero of the Texas revolution is indicted for what Lindley regards as his duplicitous inaction during the siege of the Alamo. And there will certainly be readers who will continue to cling to the image of Colonel William B. Travis drawing a line in the sand, despite Lindley’s definitive discrediting of that beloved story. But Alamo Traces is the farthest thing from a revisionist manifesto. It may take on a cherished historical chestnut or two, but it does so with the intention of casting a clear light rather than a dark shadow. At the same time it also offers an abundance of new information, particularly in its groundbreaking chapters on the hitherto-unknown attempts to reinforce the Alamo.
Alamo Traces is a book that must and will be reckoned with. It burrows deep into the historical record, shovels away deposits of myth and folklore and faulty assumptions that are generations deep, and never wavers in its search for a bedrock level of fact. It is a book that showcases a lifetime of fervent research and marks an audacious new direction for Alamo scholarship.
Stephen Harrigan
Acknowledgments
I owe a debt of thanks to many individuals who helped me in researching and writing this book. Foremost, Alamo Traces: New Evidence and New Conclusions would not have been written without the encouragement and support of former state Supreme Court justice Jack Hightower. Writer Steve Harri
gan read the manuscript and offered advice on how to improve the writing and organization of the book. Steve also wrote a foreword for the work. Artist and historian Jack Jackson read some of the chapters and offered suggestions for improvement. Moreover, Jack shared some of his research on the Mexican army and drew me a map. Historian William C. “Jack” Davis also shared a number of Mexican documents he had found in researching Three Roads to the Alamo and furnished a back cover promotional blurb. He also read the manuscript and offered his help in locating a publisher. Historian Stephen Hardin furnished support and often acted as a sounding board for my arguments and interpretations. Dr. Jim Lutzweiler read the Moses/Louis Rose chapters and made a number of criticisms. Historian and researcher Dorcas Baumgarter, who probably knows more about Gonzales County than any other person, shared an unknown Susanna Dickinson interview with me. Lee Spencer-White of Freer, Texas, furnished me with names and evidence for two new Alamo defenders. Rod Timanus made some useful observations concerning the Jose Enrique de la Pena memoir manuscript. Bill Groneman allowed me the use of his research on forgery detection. Also, Bill was an important sounding board in regard to my Pena analysis. Dr. David B. Gracy II always answered my questions in regard to his point of view on the authenticity of the Pena manuscripts. Historian Jesus F. (Frank) de la Teja read an early draft of the manuscript. He made a number of important suggestions on how to improve the work. Dr. “Red” Duke of the University of Texas Medical School at Houston helped with information about wounds. Elias J. Dugie and Doyle Colwell were very generous in allowing me on their farm and ranch land in my search for the old road bed of the Gonzales to San Antonio road. Historian Paul A. Hutton has always been supportive and interested in my research. Historian David J. Weber read an early draft of the Houston chapter and furnished a back cover blurb. His comments were generous, gracious, and helpful.
Then there were certain individuals employed at the various libraries and archives who helped a great deal. The Texas General Land Office operates one of three state archives in Austin. The division was well managed before David Dewhurst took over as Land Commissioner. Today, the Land Office archives are, bar none, including the University of Texas, the best archives operation in the state of Texas. Fortunately, Dewhurst had the ability to listen to the improvement ideas of his archival staff. Susan Smith-Dorsey, Carol Finney, John Molleston, Kevin Klaus, Jerry C. Drake, Bobby Santiesteban, and Galen Greaser were always friendly, professional, and knowledgeable in the assistance they gave me. Whatever the subject: land, oil, history, cartography, or genealogy, the Land Office “information specialists” can generally find the answer or point one in the right direction. John Molleston and Jerry Drake made me aware of an untapped collection of land grant applications that contained new Alamo data.
The Texas State Library also has a pretty good archives operation, second only to the Land Office. Eddie Williams, the former copy person, was extremely helpful to me. She made thousands of copies for me and I never had reason to complain. When she retired she left some big shoes to fill. Former reference archivist Michael R. Green alerted me to Alamo documents that I would never have found on my own. Donaly E. Brice and Jean Carefoot were always able to answer my questions or tell me where to look for an answer. John Anderson helped me locate the pictures I needed and took the photos of the Jose Enrique de la Pena handwriting samples.
The Daughters of the Republic of Texas Library on the Alamo grounds had a few documents that proved useful. Alamo historian and curator Dr. Richard B. Winders has been supportive of my work. Dora Guerra, Martha Utterback, and Rusty Gamez always bent over backwards to help me. Dora was most helpful when she was director of the Special Collections at the University of Texas at San Antonio. She made copies of pages from the Pena manuscripts that later proved to be very helpful after the collection was broken up and sold. The late Bernice Strong was also very helpful in the last few months she worked at the DRT Library.
Ralph Elder and John Wheat at the Center for American History, the former Eugene C. Barker Texas History Center, at the University of Texas at Austin helped immensely. Ned Brierley made numerous copies and a number of excellent Spanish translations. Kathryn Kenefick has been extremely helpful in recent days. Her friendly smile and professional attitude are a welcome addition to that operation. Upstairs at the Texas State Historical Association, Ron Tyler and George B. Ward have always welcomed me and have been willing to let me bounce my research and ideas off their reflecting minds.
The staff at Nacogdoches County Courthouse archives and the East Texas Research Center at Stephen F. Austin University in Nacogdoches helped me locate what was left of the original Louis Rose land grant documents. Cassey Edward Greene at the Rosenberg Library at Galveston did the same in regard to a James Bowie document.
Special thanks to Brian Huberman and Cynthia Wolf for their support and inclusion in their film work. They have been good company in the long debate over the reality of the Pena memoir.
Fellow members and friends in the Alamo Society include William R. (Bill) Chemerka and Joseph Musso. Chemerka, publisher of The Alamo Journal, has always published my work without question. Musso, the expert on James Bowie and Bowie knives, shared research and a passion for the Alamo with me. The friendship of individuals like Chemerka, Musso, Groneman, and other members of the Alamo Society is one of the unexpected rewards of this work. A large thanks to the men and women of the Alamo Society. It is a group probably more like the men and women of the Alamo than any other Alamo organization. Just being a member of this group has been a big encouragement for me.
Many other individuals, members of the Southwest Vaqueros, have been supportive: Dorothy Black, Charlie Eckhardt, Frank W. Jennings, Al and Darlyne Lowman, Wayne Cox, Anne Fox, Sharon Crutchfield, and Wes Williams. At a former job, coworkers Marti Granger, Helen Durrett, and Leon Ashbrook always showed a sincere interest in my research and writing.
In my hometown of Nixon, thanks for the support of Donald and Patricia Hoffman, Richard and Kathleen Faulkner, Nathan and Dixell Wheat, Wendle and Carolyn Scott, Don and Gladyne Finch, Calvin Ray Pullin, Billy Steubing, Phyllis Stone, Sam Nixon, Gary Davis, and historian Sylvan Dunn. Also, Mike and Phyllis Mahan of Dermott, Arkansas.
Thanks to Dianne Stultz, Ginnie Bivona, and the rest of the staff at Republic of Texas Press. Their work made this book a reality.
Many thanks to “little mom” Ethel Sears, Daryl and Fran Pullin, Larry and Cyndi Pullin, Bill and Sue Shelton, and the rest of the Deason clan for their love and support over the years. I would never have gotten here without all of you.
If I forgot anyone, please forgive me. It was not intentional. It has just been a long journey with many, many human encounters.
Introduction
Any person who takes up this book expecting a work like Lon Tinkle’s 13 Days to Glory, Walter Lord’s A Time To Stand, Stephen L. Hardin’s Texian Iliad, or Jeff Long’s Duel of Eagles will be disappointed. The aforementioned histories are similar in one way. They are highly readable narrative histories. Alamo Traces is not a narrative history that presents the Alamo story in a manner that reads like an adventure tale. The work’s concept, source material, and purpose dictated a different organizational structure.
This work critically examines selected features from the supposed body of historical truth that reports the story of the Battle of the Alamo, the most famous event in Texas history. As separate pieces, each of the subjects I have tackled would usually be submitted as an article for a scholarly journal devoted to the military history or the history of the southwestern United States. Such expression does offer the opportunity of critical acceptance by the academic community. That acceptance, however, can have a high cost. In my opinion, journal editors often place restrictions on an investigator that are very close to censorship. That is especially true when a subject goes against the grain of prevailing historical trends of the day. Therefore, because this book is different, I traveled a different road.
The book’s chapte
rs are linked together in two ways. Each chapter has, as a subject or subjects, a piece or pieces of the evidentiary puzzle that makes up the story of the Alamo. The underlying topic of each chapter is the method that the original historian, writer, or researcher used in researching and writing about the Alamo. My writing style and the book’s organizational structure are aimed at one goal—clarity—so that the reader will understand the evidence, the arguments, the speculative interpretations, and the conclusions.
Some readers may see certain elements of this work as ax grinding. For example, many individuals will find the chapter on Sam Houston’s role in the fall of the Alamo hard to take. Today, Houston is considered the greatest Texas hero of all time. Military historian Michael Lee Lanning, in The Military 100: A Ranking of the Most Influential Military Leaders of All Time, rated Houston as the fifty-seventh best general of all time, ahead of such combat geniuses as Richard I (the Lion-Hearted), Robert E. Lee, Chester W. Nimitz, Bernard L. Montgomery, Erwin Rommel, and George S. Patton.
Clearly, my analysis shows that Houston would make any list of the top one hundred Machiavellian politicians of all time. Historian Jack Jackson, on reading chapter one, told me that I had “stacked the deck” against Houston by using only sources that portray him in a negative light. My answer to Jackson was: Show me some primary sources of the period that support Houston’s version of events, and I will use them. I have searched for contemporary sources that speak well of Houston’s behavior during the revolution, but in regard to Houston’s role in the fall of the Alamo, I found no such sources. Still, I want to make it clear that my intent in writing about Houston was not malicious. In my conclusions, I feel I have only gone to those places of the past where the evidence took me.
Also, as with all the book’s chapters, the falsehoods, misconceptions, and misinterpretations investigated in this study have long been entrenched in the various Alamo histories as the truth. I felt they had to be hit hard to get the evidence and my arguments across to the reader.
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