The Mighty Guns of Val Verde

They appeared like a mirage in the rising summer heat of West Texas; the tattered remnants of a failed military campaign.  San Antonio teamsters drove supply-laden wagons out to greet them.  With their horses and wagons left behind, their weapons traded away for food, and their shoes worn out, they arrived home with just the clothes on their backs.  A stagecoach passenger recalled, “they were suffering terribly from the effects of heat; very many of them were a-foot, and scarcely able to travel from blistered feet.  They were subsisting on bread and water, both officers and men; many of them were sick, many ragged, and all hungry.” Accompanying the survivors were five captured Union cannons; their only trophies from the campaign. 

In October, 1861, three thousand mounted Texans set out for the New Mexico Territory. Their goal was to secure the Southwest Territories for the Confederacy and perhaps sway the West Coast to their cause.  Commanded by General Henry Hopkins Sibley, the Texans defeated Colonel Edward Canby’s regulars near the village of Val Verde.  A well- timed, desperate charge overran a Union Battery that included 3 six pound cannons and 2 howitzers.  From there, Sibley drove north to the territory capital of Santa Fe.  The absence of large farms, the New Mexicans' hatred of Texans, and the arid climate made it extremely difficult to sustain an army.  Survival depended on their long train of supply wagons.  In addition, Sibley was a flaming drunkard who offered little inspiration and no real leadership.  Their luck ran out at the Battle of Glorietta Pass.  The Texans won the field, but a detachment of Colorado volunteers marched undetected to the Confederate rear and destroyed the wagons.  Without food and ammo, the Texans couldn’t sustain the campaign.   They had to retreat. Out of three thousand, five hundred would not see their homes again.

Each of the captured guns was hitched to a limber and assigned to a company.  To avoid Canby’s pursuing army, Sibley took his army into the rugged San Mateo Mountains.  The guns had to be lowered and raised across the canyons by rope; an arduous task for starving soldiers.  "Both banks were extremely high and steep, and there seemed no chance to cross,” recalled Sergeant A.B. Peticolas. “But nothing daunted, we locked the wheels and our guns were slided down the hill, with men holding back by a long rope.  Then up the next hill we dragged the pieces, with many weary steps and many a groan.”  Upon arrival in El Paso, a new Confederate battery was formed using the captured Union guns.  Christened the Val Verde Battery, the new unit was placed under the command of future Texas Governor, Captain Joseph Draper Sayers. 

The battery achieved lasting glory in the bayous of Louisiana.  At Grand Lake, The Val Verde Battery ambushed the Union gunboat Diana.  With deadly accuracy, the Diana was riddled like a Swiss cheese.  The commander was killed while the crew was pinned down below deck.  After the rudder was damaged, the gunboat was out of control and forced to surrender to the jubilant Texans. 

The Red River Campaign brought an overwhelming number of Union troops to the eastern border of Texas.  At Mansfield and Pleasant Hill, Union General Nathaniel Banks met grief against Confederate forces under General Richard Taylor.  During the Battle of Mansfield, the Val Verde Battery outdueled Union batteries while General John G. Walker's Texas Division routed Bank's forces.  Once again the guns of the Val Verde Battery helped the Confederacy achieve a signal victory. 

At the end of the war, the guns were buried rather than surrendered to Union forces.  They were exhumed after Federal occupation ended.  Three were badly deteriorated and two were placed on display at the Confederate Reunion Grounds near Mexia and the Freestone County Courthouse in Fairfield.  The Val Verde Battery was born during a humiliating retreat and ended with a distinguished record defending its home state.

T-Patch

On July 26, 1917, the first members of a storied U.S. infantry division disembarked at a Fort Worth train station.  Their destination was a patch of land cleared for a future army camp. Three miles west of the city, the new camp was christened Camp Bowie and was to be the new training center for 22,321 National Guardsmen from Texas and Oklahoma.  The training was to prepare them for World War I combat, which was mostly defensive warfare fought in open trenches with machine guns, poison gas, and massive artillery barrages.  The United States had joined the fray in April, 1917 and called for volunteers.  The 36th infantry division was the Texas answer to that call.

To facilitate the mobilization of troops, the U.S. federalized National Guard units throughout the country.  At Camp Bowie, the Guard units had their state designations dropped and were merged into two infantry brigades: the 71st and 72nd.  At the company level, the Guardsmen were grouped by their city or region of origin.  Prideful Oklahomans and Texans were distressed by the loss of their state designations and tried to have them restated, but to no avail.  This was to be a national struggle.

Inclement weather, shortages, and disease plagued Camp Bowie for the first several months.  A shortage of rifles and machine guns forced companies to share their weapons or use sticks until arm shipments arrived.  Before the arrival of blankets and overcoats, cold fronts or “blue northers” hit the camp in late September.  A mad scramble was on for wood or anything that burned safely in a tent stove.  As with any army camp, poor sanitation and bad weather brought disease.  Many members of the 36th grew up on rural farms where they avoided most childhood diseases and had little immunity built up as a result.  In December, a staggering 8,000 were hospitalized for measles, mumps and worst of all, the flu.  During the war, a severe Spanish flu epidemic broke out that killed thousands nationwide.  A two week quarantine was imposed on the camp.  The men were instructed to keep their tents well ventilated, avoid large gatherings, and not use the streets as open sewers.  One officer remarked, “It’s worse than fighting the Germans.”  Wooden floors installed in the tents, improved hospital plumbing, and additional doctors and nurses on call brought the epidemic under control.

Near Benbrook, a 10 mile series of trenches were constructed to simulate a World War I battlefield.  During short rotations, regiments were divided into aggressors and defenders.  Accompanied by flares and artillery barrages they fought “The Battle of Benbrook.” The Camp Commandant, Major Edwin Greble, watched the action atop his horse, "Gray Bill."  Most of the casualties were from fists, rocks, and the occasional sling shot.  The most serious accident was when a trench mortar went off prematurely, killing ten enlisted men.

The twin vices of alcohol and prostitution were a nagging problem for General Greble.  Fort Worth had 178 saloons and an ever growing number of bootleggers.  In compliance with Greble’s wishes, Fort Worth closed down its red light districts and appointed female officers to keep women of loose virtue out of the dance halls.  To divert their attention, the YMCA provided guardsmen with movies and musical instruments.  Football, baseball, boxing and wrestling contests were held among the various units while the American Library Association provided books for the more studious.  Homesick farm boys were provided with gardens to grow food for the mess halls.  To show their gratitude for Fort Worth’s support, the 36th adopted the name “The Panthers” in honor of Fort Worth’s nickname, ”The Panther City;” a name derived from an article by a Fort Worth lawyer who commented, "the city was so drowsy he saw a panther asleep near the courthouse."

On July 13, 1918, the 36th set out by rail to New York and then by ship to France.  Their new camp in France was at Bar-sur-Aube where their training continued until September. In late September, the 71st and 72nd brigades set out for the front lines in the Aisne Valley region of France.  A lack of draft animals kept the 36th short of supplies, especially water.  The horrors of World War I greeted the 36th as they marched passed the remnants of the Hindenburg Line, a nightmarish landscape of shell craters, barbed wire, dead animals, and decomposed corpses feasted on by rats.

Germany was worn down by the ending months of 1918.  Manpower shortages and internal revolts on the home front pushed the German Army on its heels.  The arrival of the Americans would provide the tipping point.  Despite their hardships, Germans still had plenty of ammo, machine guns and an effective air force to strafe Allied infantry.

The 36th first served as a reserve for the French 4th Army and then was ordered into the trenches to relieve the U.S. 2nd Division.  Following an artillery barrage, an assault on the German line was planned for October 8.  The barrage, however, didn’t hit its target but hit well beyond the German trenches.  To make matters worse, a battalion of French tanks failed to provide support for the 36th’s advance.   Undaunted by the hail storm of machine gun bullets, the 71st brigade advanced a mile past the German lines, capturing 600 prisoners in the process.  Their own casualties numbered 1,227 from artillery fire and point blank machine gun fire.

On October 27, the 36th advanced on the German strong point at Foret Ferme, capturing the position and 197 prisoners.  In textbook fashion, the 36th had advanced a total of 13 miles against veteran German units.  Prior to their assault, members of Oklahoma’s Choctaw tribe were used to send messages over the radio.  Totally unfamiliar with the Choctaw dialect, the Germans couldn’t decipher  any radio transmissions coming out of the 36th’s command post.  They were totally in the dark as to the 36th’s plan of attack.

During October 28-29, the 36th was relieved for the rest of the war.  On November 11, 1918, a defeated Germany signed an armistice.  In compliance with new uniform requirements issued to the U.S. divisions, a new shoulder patch was adopted by the 36th.   The purpose of these patches was to help identify men of divisions who became intermixed during combat and bring about an "espirit de corps" among the divisions.  With respect toward their native states, the insignia consisted of a cobalt blue arrowhead, representing Oklahoma, and a khaki letter T, for Texas, superimposed over the arrowhead.

In April, 1919, members of the 36th began returning home to their families in Texas and Oklahoma.  Despite their state pride, Oklahoma and Texas veterans always reflected years later on their service and were more than honored to don the T-Patch.

Taking advantage of Camp Bowie’s utility hookups, developers turned the 2,186 acre camp into a residential area after the war.  The main road through the camp became Fort Worth’s brick-paved Camp Bowie Blvd.

A Female Paul Revere of the Confederacy

The Grave of Sophia Porter

History is dotted with Paul Reveres; people who took extraordinary risks to warn fellow countrymen of an invading army.  During the Civil War, an unlikely plantation mistress was dubbed the “Paul Revere of the Confederacy.”  In 1835, Sophia Porter settled with her husband, Jesse Aughinbaugh, in Nacogdoches.  A down and out teacher and druggist, Aughinbaugh deserted his wife.  With few, if any, opportunities for an abandoned frontier housewife, Sophia likely turned to prostitution.  She became a refugee when Nacogdoches residents fled from Santa Anna’s advancing army.  Stories circulated that Sophia established her new found profession among Sam Houston’s emerging army and even tended to Houston’s leg wound after the Battle of San Jacinto.  After Texas won its independence, she was granted a divorce by the newly formed Texas Congress and married Indian trader Holland Coffee. 

Sophia and her new husband traveled to Grayson County where they established a trading post.  The couple also helped establish the town of Preston along with their new plantation, Glen Eden.  In 1846, Holland Coffee was killed during an argument, leaving Sophia with the plantation.  Never content to play the mourning widow, she took a third husband, George Butts.  During their marriage, Glen Eden became a favorite spot for social gatherings.  Decked out in lavish dresses, Sophia loved being a hostess. 

During the Civil War, Major Butts was a recruiting officer in the Confederate Army.  In 1863, Will Quantrill’s Missouri guerillas arrived in North Texas seeking refuge after raiding and burning Lawrence, Kansas.  Little more than undisciplined outlaws, Quantrill’s men soon ran afoul of the local authorities.  When Major Butts was found dead on the side of a road, Quantrill’s men were accused of his murder.  Quantrill avoided arrest by fleeing across the Red River, leaving Sophia a widow for the second time.

 If Missouri guerillas weren’t enough, Union scouts arrived at Glen Eden.  Sophia fed the scouts and let them partake of her abundant wine cellar.  The dizzying effect of the wine loosened their tongues and revealed a secret plan to attack Confederate forces in the Indian Territory.  The plan’s objective was the capture of Colonel James Bourland, the commander of the nearby Confederate "Border Regiment" that patrolled along the Red River.  While her guests fell into a drunken stupor, Sophia escaped out the back window, crossed the frigid Red River on horseback, and warned Colonel Bourland of her guests.  Because of her heroism, she was awarded the sobriquet, the “Paul Revere of the Confederacy.” 

On August 2, 1865, Sophia married her fourth husband, Judge James Porter.  They lived at Glen Eden until his death in 1886.  Ten years later, Sophia died and was buried near her plantation.  Glen Eden was dismantled years later before the construction of Lake Texhoma.  The land is now underwater.  Through tragic oversight, most of the plantation home’s wood was burned, leaving nothing to assemble.  Some of Glen Eden’s furniture is on display at the Sherman Museum in Sherman, Texas.

Dinner with Clay Allison

Clay Allison

During the late 1870’s, Dodge City, Kansas was known for its rollicking saloons, steamy brothels and seedy gambling halls. After long treacherous cattle drives, worn out, dust covered cowboys found comfort in a whiskey bottle or in the arms of a prostitute.   The need for nightly pleasures, however, often ran counter to local ordinances.  Deputy Marshall Wyatt Earp was alerted to a particularly rowdy bunch brandishing firearms at the Long Branch Saloon.  Twenty five whiskey-soaked cowboys were enraged by the rough treatment meted out to their friends by Dodge City Marshall Bat Masterson.  The famed lawman was out of town, leaving local law enforcement to young Earp.  Luckily, the cowboys were persuaded by a very brave saloon owner to hand over their arms to him before tempers exploded.  Earp was probably relieved, especially after he found out the name of one of the rowdies:  the notorious gunfighter Clay Allison.  An epic showdown between the Old West’s most famous lawman and one of its most famous gunfighters had been quietly averted.

Born in Tennessee, Clay Allison served briefly as a Confederate artilleryman before being discharged over his volatile temper.  He was “incapable of performing the duties of a soldier because of a blow received many years ago," the discharge stated. "Emotional or physical excitement produces paroxysmals of a mixed character, partly epileptic and partly maniacal.”  Not a flattering description by any means.  During the waning days of the Civil War, Allison served the Confederacy a second time as a cavalryman under General Nathan Bedford Forrest.  After the war, he became widely known for his extreme mood swings.  It was widely rumored he shot a Union corporal who tried to seize the family farm.  Like many Southerners who wanted a new life, or escape from an old one, he settled in Texas.  He found work as trail herder, possibly among the first to drive cattle along the famed Goodnight- Loving Trail.

Allison’s job took him to the wild environs of New Mexico, where lagging law enforcement, flowing liquor and nightly fandangos spawned deadly gun battles and vigilante style justice.  In 1872, Allison started a lucrative ranch operation in Cimarron.  He and his brothers regularly rode the streets firing their revolvers at street lamps and helping vigilante mobs dispatch alleged criminals.  His skills with a six shooter began to develop as well.  Combined with excessive drinking, those skills brought Allison a host of challengers at every turn.  One of which had an old score to settle.

On January 7, 1874, Chunk Colbert sought out Allison in Colfax County, New Mexico.  After a few drinks and an impromptu horse race, they both sat down to dinner at the Clifton House.  Colbert had a beef with Allison over the beating of his uncle at a Brazos River ferry.  Allison claimed Colbert’s Uncle Zachary tried to overcharge him.  Colbert had gunned down seven men before his arrival and wanted to add Allison to his tally.  While seated at the table, Chunk suddenly drew his pistol but the barrel struck the table edge, delaying his quick draw.  During that brief moment, Allison jumped from his chair, drew his pistol and shot poor Chunk in the head.  When asked why he sat down to dinner with Colbert, Allison replied, “Because I didn’t want to send a man to hell on an empty stomach.”

Two years later, Allison shot Sheriff Charles Faber at the Olympic Dance Hall in Las Animas, Colorado.  The charges were dropped because Faber fired first without warning.  Allison sold his New Mexico ranch to his brother and became a cattle broker in Hays City, Kansas.  Weary of the gunfighter reputation that followed him, Allison built a ranch in Wheeler County, Texas (now Hempstead County) near the town of Mobeetie.  In 1881, he married Dora McCulloch and had two daughters.  Allison’s erratic behavior showed no improvement when town locals spotted him riding his horse butt naked and wearing only a pistol belt.  He later moved his family to Pope’s Wells near the Pecos River and New Mexico border.  On July 3, 1887, he died after falling from his wagon and breaking his neck.

A Battle of Mistaken Identity

Kickapoo Wigwam

The signs were unmistakable.  An encampment of over one hundred wigwams and tents had been here.  Unlike the dreaded Comanches who traveled in small fleeting bands, the abandoned Indian camp had over five hundred inhabitants and left a trail one hundred yards wide.  Under the command of Captain N.W. Gillentine, twenty members of the Erath County Militia followed the trail until they discovered a freshly covered grave.  Curious about its contents, they unearthed the body of a young Indian girl dressed in full Native American costume and surrounded with various trinkets.  Some of Gillentine’s men jokingly referred to the corpse as “bad medicine” and they would all be cursed for disturbing the grave. Cursed or not they helped themselves to the trinkets and portions of the dead girl’s clothing.  The joking, however, would prove fortuitous.  Galletine and most of his men would be dead within a month.

What was thought to have been marauding Comanches were actually friendly Kickapoos out of the Kansas Pottawatomie Agency.   The Kickapoos were an Algonkian people that once inhabited present day Wisconsin.  A semi-nomadic tribe, they raised crops and hunted game from large established villages.  As white settlers moved closer to their land, the Kickapoos migrated to Kansas, Texas and the Indian Territory (now present day Oklahoma).  After the Texas Revolution, the new republic adopted a “zero tolerance” policy toward all Native Americans.  Most of them were forced on to reservations in the Indian Territory.  The Kickapoos headed south across the Rio Grande to Northern Mexico where their descendants remain to this day.

After the Civil War broke out, the Kansas Kickapoos were pressured to support the Union cause.  They were armed with Enfield rifles and participated in Union campaigns against their Confederate brethren in the Indian Territory.  In December 1864, the Kickapoos decided they had had enough of the white man’s war and would join their fellow Kickapoos in Mexico.  Nine hundred Kickapoos journeyed out into the vast West Texas frontier.  Their great numbers soon caught the attention of Confederate frontier units.  

Based on Captain Gillentine’s scouting report, Captain Henry Fossett and 161 members of the Confederate Frontier Militia set out from Ft. Chadbourne in pursuit of an unknown band of Native Americans.  Captain S.S. Totten followed 15 miles behind with 325 members of various county militias.  The Kickapoos were found encamped 20 miles southwest of San Angelo along the banks of Dove Creek.  No one bothered to communicate with them and find out their intentions.

The Kickapoo camp was heavily surrounded by a dense thicket which offered a ready-made defensive position.  They were armed with their Civil War Enfields which were superior to the Texans diverse collection of short ranged shotguns and pistols. In addition, the Texans would have to attack from the open prairie, thus giving the Kickapoos an unobstructed field of fire while safely concealed in the thicket.

Fossett and Totten fashioned a battle plan to bag the whole lot of them.  After his men waded the waist high, frigid Dove Creek, Totten would attack from the north.  While the Kickapoos were occupied with Totten, Fossett would attack from the south, capture the tribe’s 1,000 horses, and cut off any escape routes.  The attack would commence on the morning of January 3, 1865.

Totten’s command ran into immediate trouble when the Kickapoos began picking them apart with their long range Enfields, something the Texans hadn’t expected.  Totten fought bravely but had trouble targeting the Kickapoos within the heavily wooded thicket.  Captain Gillentine was fatally wounded.  After handing over his rifle to his companion, John Anderson, he proclaimed with a straight face, “John, I’m a dead man.” He died later that evening.  As Totten was forced to fall back, the Kickapoos worked their way toward Totten’s vulnerable flanks, pouring in a deadly enfilading fire.


Meanwhile, Fossett captured most of the Kickapoo horses and fought his way into the Kickapoos' camp.   For five hours, he held of Indian attacks but lost most of the horses.  Two hours after sunset, the battle ended after the Indians withdrew into the depths of the thicket.  Leaving their dead behind, the Kickapoos broke camp and continued their journey the next day.

The Texans fell back a few miles east to Spring Creek. Both sides suffered close to 50 dead and wounded.   At 10:00 PM that evening it began to snow, adding to the misery of the wounded.  Short of food, the Texans shot a few of the Indian ponies for meat.  The next morning, Totten returned to the battlefield and buried his dead.  The bodies were not scalped but stripped of their clothing by the Kickapoos. 

The Kickapoos reached their new home in Mexico but harbored intense bitterness after Dove Creek.  In addition to the persistent threat of Comanche raids, Texas now faced raids from vengeful Kickapoos.  A short sighted assumption that all Native Americans were enemies led to unnecessary deaths, grieving families, and more adversaries during a long civil war.



Phantom Hill Blues

(Photo Coutesy of The Abilene Convention & Visitors Bureau)



Off a remote stretch of FM 600 near Abilene lie the ruins of Fort Phantom Hill; one of a line of U.S. Army forts built across the West Texas frontier.  These forts were built in the 1850’s to protect settlers and California “Gold Rush” migrants from hostile Comanches.  According to the orders of the North Texas frontier commander, General William G. Belknap, the fort was supposed to have been built on the Pecan Bayou in Coleman County.  Belknap died from illness before construction began and was replaced with General Persifor Smith, who changed Belknap’s orders and built the fort at the Clear Fork of the Brazos instead.  Smith knew little about the area and placed Phantom Hill too far from a reliable water source, a vital necessity for any West Texas fort.  In fact, so little thought was put into the new fort that it wasn’t even given a name, which was usually that of a high ranking army officer.  It was just simply referred to as the “Post on the Clear Fork of the Brazos.”  The Phantom Hill moniker came later when someone noticed the land the fort was built on appeared as a hill in the distance, but mysteriously leveled off upon closer view, hence the name Phantom Hill.

Construction began on November 14, 1851 under the command of Lt. Colonel J.J. Abercrombie.  The buildings were made of stones from nearby Elm Creek and logs hauled in by oxen from forty miles away.  Most of the roofs were thatched with prairie grass.  Only the magazine, guardhouse, and commissary storehouse were built entirely of stone.  Scattered among the fort’s 22 acres were officers’ quarters, barracks, a guardhouse, a commissary storehouse, and a powder magazine.  A cistern was built, but it provided little water for the thirsty garrison.

Five companies of infantry were stationed there to guard the West Texas prairie, a laughable tactic considering the Comanches were the best horsemen in the Western Hemisphere and could ride spirals around a body of foot soldiers.  As a result, there would be no encounters with the Indians unless they wanted to be encountered.   Groups of Lipan Apaches, Kiowas, Kickapoos, and Penateka Comanches did drop by occasionally to visit, trade or check out the fort’s armaments.

Boredom, lousy water, and disease were the real enemies.  The nearby Elm Creek had dried up and the waters of the Clear Fork were too brackish.  Water would have to be hauled in by wagon from a spring 4 to 5 miles away.  Vegetable gardens couldn’t be raised because of the water shortage.  This led to outbreaks of scurvy and dysentery.  If that wasn’t enough, the sheer loneliness of the place led to a sizeable number of desertions. One lieutenant wrote, “Like the Dove after the Deluge, not one green sprig can we find to indicate this was ever intended by man to inhabit.  Indeed I cannot imagine that God ever intended for a white man to occupy such a barren waste.”  

After only four years, the fort was abandoned.  Shortly after the army’s departure, the fort was set on fire, possibly by one or several of the fort’s disgruntled garrison.  Only the magazine, guardhouse, the walls of the commissary, and a multitude of chimneys remained.

In 1858, the fort’s remaining structures became a way station for the Butterfield Overland Stage Trail.  During the Civil War, the Confederate Frontier Battalion used Phantom Hill as a base of operations when tracking down Comanches.  In the 1870’s, a town sprang up near the fort to accommodate the buffalo hunting trade.  The town didn't last long after it lost on its bid to become the county seat.

Today the fort’s ruins are maintained by the nonprofit Fort Phantom Hill Foundation.  There are signs indicating where each building was located and its function.  If you stop by, be sure to grab a brochure from a mailbox affixed to the door of the old guardhouse.  It features a map that will guide you through the fort.  There is plenty of parking but no restrooms or water fountains; you have to use The Big Country Bait Shop and Cafe about a mile down the road.  A recent grant holds promise for upgrades. Restrooms, a new parking area, and a visitor’s kiosk with educational information are to be installed. 

As with any ruins, there are going to be ghost stories, mostly sightings of the fort’s former inhabitants and restless Indian spirits.  Like ancient columns on a Greek Island, Fort Phantom Hill’s chimneys provide a unique Texan sense of romance and mystery.  As the sun sets on the prairie and the orange light reflects off the chimneys, what could be more romantic?

D-Guards and Toothpicks

D-Guard Bowie Knife

Arkansas Toothpick

Among Confederate troops, the most popular knife was a version of the Bowie knife; a knife with a 10 to 18 inch blade and a D-shaped knuckle guard affixed to the handle.  Because of its elongated blade, the D-Guard Bowie knife was more like a short sword than a knife.  Countless photos or carte de visites show young “Johnny Rebs” posing with their drawn D-Guard Bowie knives, held upright and close to the chest. 

The Bowie knife evolved from a series of designs.  Its actual inventor has never been fully established.  The original knife is widely believed to have been designed by Rezin Bowie, the brother of Texas legend Colonel James Bowie.  Rezin’s design closely resembled that of the standard butcher knife.  Jim Bowie used his brother’s design in the famous Sandbar Fight of 1827; a wild free-for-all where Bowie was stabbed, shot and beaten to within an inch of his life.  During the fight’s ten minute duration, he managed to kill one of his assailants with his knife.  Across the U.S., newspapers carried accounts of the fight and Bowie’s new knife.

The most popular design featured the distinctive clipped point and was manufactured by James Black, a blacksmith in Washington, Arkansas.  Bowie carried Black’s design with him to Texas and eternal glory at the Alamo.  Business boomed for Black until he was savagely attacked by his father in law; a former business partner who didn’t approve of his daughter’s marriage to Black.  While lying ill in bed, Black was clubbed on the noggin and left partially blinded.

British craftsmen, known as “Little Mesters,”began producing quality Bowie knives from their workshops in Sheffield.  The word "mester" is a Sheffield variant of the word "master," which indicates a master craftsman.  Hundreds of these Sheffield knives were exported to the United States as the knife gained international fame.  Irish, Victorian author Bram Stoker included the knife in his popular horror novel, “Dracula.”  In the book, Texan Quincy Morris deals Count Dracula a mortal blow with his Bowie knife.

Another James Black creation, the Arkansas Toothpick, was also popular in the South.   The Arkansas Toothpick was an immense 15” double edged dagger as opposed to the Bowie’s single sharpened edge.  “As fighting knives, both the D-Guard and Toothpick are comparable,” said knife maker and authority, Carl Simms.


Confederate knives were well sharpened compared to Union artillery swords which were dull to prevent sticking after a thrust to the ribs or collarbone.  The Union Army did not have government issued knives, but had bayonets and swords which were more for thrusting rather than slashing.  Confederate knives were produced by local blacksmiths in various shapes and sizes.  Old files and saw blades were often used.

Like all Civil War knives, the Bowie knife and Arkansas Toothpick were rarely used in an actual fight.  Instead they were used as tools to cut tree limbs, prepare food, dig entrenchments, or cut fabric for uniforms.  Many found them a hindrance and simply discarded them.  Whether used in hunting, fishing, home defense, or slaying vampires, the venerable Bowie knife will always have its place among native Texans.

Civil War Knife Display (Texas Civil War Museum)