The following is just a sample the pictures and articles in the 20 pages of issue #1.
Jim Courtright was one of the best known of Fort Worth’s early marshals.
Longhaired Jim Courtright tombstone at Oakwood Cemetery.
Shootout at the White Elephant Saloon
by Jim Buel
It happened in the year of 1887 on a cold and dreary February night. Trouble was brewing between Luke Short and the former city marshall, Jim Courtright. Luke Short, a noted gambler and owner of the White Elephant Saloon was called outside by Jim Courtright for a showdown that would be happening soon. Courtright, an excellent gunman, was fond of a saying “When Colt made his pistol, it made all men equal”, but Courtright was outdrawn, shot three times and killed in the following sequel. The Saloon was in the 300 block of Main Street just north of Hell’s half acre. It was the site of the great gunfight that sent Courtright to meet his maker. The citizens of Fort Worth took up a collection and gave Courtright the grandest funeral in this town that’s ever been. They held Short blameless. It was a fair fight as witnessed by all who had seen. Short died in the 1890’s and was buried in Oakwood cemetery, a stones throw from Courtright, the man he outdrew in 1887 in that notorious gunfight.
In several accounts that I have read about the burial places of Luke Short and Longhair Jim Courtright, it is stated that they are buried just a stones’ throw away from each other. Well, I went back to Oakwood Cemetery and measured that stones’ throw, and it is 555 feet from grave to grave as the crow flies. I went out and found me a rock and threw it and measured how far it went. It went 69 feet. I then divided 69 feet into 555 feet and came out with eight stones throws. I rest my case. I didn’t throw the rock in the cemetery as I didn’t think that would look too good. -Les
There are many great men in life,
I have found, but none so great as the rodeo clown. I was once near the brink, my life on the line. I was on the border as I placed my last order. Oh God, I would cry then plea as all of a sudden I was set free. I fell to the ground with a thundering thud full of fear and covered in blood. Then a man stood before me. As he stared down, he said, “I’m not God son, just a rodeo clown.”
At Rose Hill Cemetery on East Lancaster St., turn right on Rosehill Dr. Go to Church St. Turn right into Rosehill Cemetery. Turn right at the first road. Go down to the Shannon Mausoleum in the circle. Drive around the circle and back the way you came and stop about 50 ft. from the circle. The grave is to your left. Oswald’s headstone is about 40 ft. from the road. The stone is purple. It reads, “OSWALD”.
FURRINERS: All non-texans
FRASH: Them aggs ain’t frash
FUTHER: It’s 2 miles further to town
YORD: Them dawgs is out in our back yord
TOAD STRANGLE: A heavy rain
THANKS: He thanks he’s smart
SHAR: A light rain
TAXES: Best state in ‘marka
RATT CHEER: I was borned ratt cheer in this town.
BYRNE, JAMES J. – Native of New York City Shot and wounded by indians near Quitman, Texas August 10, 1880 Died at Quitman Aug 13, 1880.
I’m a real live wire and I never tire; yes sir, I’m a red hot shot. I can cook your meals, turn the factory wheels; ‘Cause I’m Reddy Kilowatt. When you toast your toast or roast your roast; it is I who makes ’em hot. I’m in your TV set with every show you get, ’cause I’m Reddy Kilowatt. I’m a pow’rful high voltage guy. I’m so full of spark I can light up the dark and you should see me wink my ‘lectric eye. I wash and dry your clothes, play your radios; I can heat your coffee pot. I am always there with lots of power to spare, ’cause I’m Reddy Kilowatt.
Remember these? You don’t see many anymore since the horseless carriage took over. But a Sunday drive in the older sections of the North or South side of Fort Worth will reward you with a look at a forgotten era in the life of our city. At one time, when you came to visit, you tied your horse or carriage to these hitchin’ posts. Most of them now are cracked and chipped. Some of them with their rings missing; almost all leaning one way or the other with age.
These old relics are fast disappearing, for every year more of them fall victim to the progress of time, vandalism and cars backed into them.