The following is just a sample of the pictures and articles in the 20 pages of issue #3.
The Golden GoddessA six foot polished brass statue, The Golden Goddess rests in the waiting room of the Spaghetti Warehouse. The Goddess stood on a pedestal in the lobby of the Westbrook Hotel on the corner of 4th and Main Street. The Westbrook was the HQ for all operations, wildcatters and oil scam artists. Before any deal was made, each entrepreneur gave the statue a rub for good luck.
Who was Paddock?
B. B. Paddock was born in 1844 in Cleveland, Ohio. He grew up in Wisconsin. At the age of seventeen he joined the Confederate Army in 1861 and soon became the war’s youngest commissioned officer. After the war he came to Ft. Worth where he became friends with K. M. Van Zandt, a banker. Van Zandt offered Paddock “The Democrat” newspaper if he would run it. Paddock accepted the offer. He edited The Democrat for ten years. He was instrumental for Ft. Worth’s first water system. He served five years as president of the Ft. Worth and Rio Grande Railway. Paddock became Mayor of Ft. Worth in 1892 and served four terms. He was a very popular mayor. He was also an author writing several books about Ft. Worth’s early days.
The reason so many weather vanes are silhouettes of roosters is because around 1000 AD the Vatican called for the likeness of a rooster to be erected atop every Christian church as a reminder for all the faithful to attend church regularly.
Ellis Pecan Co.Located at 1012 N. Main Street, this building has been the Ellis Pecan Co. since 1946. It was built in 1924 by the Klu Klux Klan (Klavern no. 101) for about $50,000.00.
The following is just a sample the pictures and articles in the 20 pages of issue #2.
A Cowboy went to the best restaurant in the North Side Stockyards, ordered the best steak on the menu with all the trimmings. When he finished he summoned the manager. “Do you remember me coming in here a year ago, ordering a big steak like this? I couldn’t pay for it and you kicked me out like a dog?” The manager replied, “Oh yes, I remember!” The cowboy said, “Well then, I’ve got to trouble you again.”
Fire Station #5
Built in 1911, 503 Bryan Avenue. It is a two story brick and similar in appearance to Station #10 on Lipscomb Street. The station was sold by the city in 1982. When I drove by in January 1997, it looked like work was being done on it.
BessieThis is Bessie? The picture was taken in 1952. I found this picture at a flea market and don’t know if it was in Fort Worth or not. Check out those prices.
COLLECTORS EDITION #ONE
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.”