Linking faces to the Howard headstones: Cricket and tea in the Texas Hill Country

howards kendall county cricket match

Cricket players on the sideline in the Texas Hill Country

When the family of John Howard Howard (1834-1894), obviously serious about being Howards, emigrated from England to Texas about 1885, they brought many of their British customs with them. The family of ten lived in Galveston briefly before settling into what they called their “cottage” on the more than 300-acre Ten Oak Hill Ranche (Yes, that’s the way they spelled it.). Their property was on the Cibolo next to the Herff family ranch, south of Boerne on what is now the Old San Antonio Road.

The Howards found there were enough British ex-pats living in the Hill Country to scare up cricket and polo matches. A picnic out in the countryside under the trees was civilized to the point that Fanny D’Argent Howard (1841-1919) poured hot tea into china cups with saucers. Daughter Eleanor Pratt Howard (Burt) (1876-1975) retained refined manners to ride sidesaddle.

John Howard Howard left Fanny a widow in 1894, which made him the first resident of the family cemetery which was the subject of a blog several years ago. With his death, the journals for the Ten Oak Hill Ranche indicate Fitz-Alan Forester Howard (1878-1956) took over the business end of running the “ranche,” at least until he married the Mister’s great aunt, Minnie Knox Spencer (1883-1972) in the mid-teens.

A box of photographs made it from Minnie to the Mister’s father, George Hutchings Spencer, and eventually to us, and self-quarantine-times led me to tackle it. I was hoping for photos of Minnie, the lover of goats more than people whom I was deprived of meeting by not entering the family until three years after her death. But, alas, no Minnie photos.

At least that is my best guess. Aside from the formal portraits taken prior to the Howards’ departure from England, almost none of the subjects are identified. All eight children are represented by headstones (if not actual remains) in the Howard Cemetery though, so I undertook to try to determine who was who and encountered several family tragedies along the way.

The youngest of the Howard clan, Marion Kathleen (1880-1899), joined her father way too soon. Marion was enrolled in classes in Galveston Business College in 1899. Two weeks after her 19th birthday, a treacherous undercurrent off an old jetty at the foot of Broadway dragged Marion and two other young women to their deaths.

While John (Jack) Simpson Howard (1871-1913) had tempted fate by signing up with the Rough Riders to join Teddy Roosevelt in the charge of San Juan Hill in Cuba, it was another brother who first fell while in the service. West Point-trained, Thomas Ferrers Howard (1874-1903) transferred from the 2nd Cavalry to the 7th in June 1898, possibly just in time to participate in the Battle of San Juan Hill on July 1. He was retired as a Lieutenant in September 1899 due to disabilities incurred in the line of duty. He remained in St. Louis, Missouri, until his death at age 28, possibly from those injuries.

But back to Jack. The Customs Service of the Department of Treasury hired Jack as a mounted inspector scouting the Rio Grande for smugglers of livestock. In West Texas, he met and married Mary Mason Kilpatrick (1882-1970) in 1907. The couple had two young daughters in Candelaria. Mary must have lived in constant fear every time Jack rode off to work based on the dangerous entanglements confronting him she described in an April 2013 letter to her brother-in-law, (Fitz-)Alan Howard. Bandits from across the border would steal cattle and alter their brands in remote mountain areas.

In February of 1913, Jack, a former Texas Ranger and a brand inspector for the Cattlemen’s Association captured Francisco “Chico” Cano near Pilares. Cano and his gang were well known as smugglers of horses and mules. Jack was in front as the men and their prisoner rode single file through a deep ravine. Protected by boulders above, five or six men, including two of Cano’s brothers, ambushed the men, shooting Jack and his horse from under him. Cano fled with his rescuers, leaving behind the three wounded officials. Help did not arrive for 15 hours. Jack lingered from his wounds for more than two days in Pilares, allowing Mary time to be by his side. The San Antonio Express reported the sniper who shot Jack had used a soft-nosed bullet, which split after striking him, causing extensive internal damage in his lungs and throat. The internal hemorrhaging could not be stopped.

Other family members fared better. Frances Edith Howard (1866-1952) remained single, the primary occupant of Ten Oak Hill Cottage. James Hammet Howard (1867-1956) managed mines in the state of Jalisco, Mexico, where he married Maria Ignacia Martinez (1876-1953). Brother William D’Argent Howard (1869-1953) found Guadalajara to his liking as well, investing in two houses there, and serving as Assistant General Manager of Amparo Mining Company under James. Upon his retirement, he joined Edith at Ten Oak Hill Cottage.

While visiting her brothers in Guadalajara, Eleanor Pratt Howard was introduced to a New York-born businessman, John Lucius Burt (1868-1955). Up until his death, the couple lived in Guadalajara, San Antonio and Los Angeles. Eleanor outlived all her siblings, dying in Washington, D.C. in 1975. Perhaps she moved there to be close to her niece. Mary Ignacia Howard (1902-1988) was an opera singer who married a Russian-born concert pianist and composer, Basil Peter Toutorsky (1896-1989). The couple operated a music academy in their landmark Dupont Circle mansion, recently acquired by the Republic of Congo for use as its embassy.

Ten Oak Hill Cottage and the Howard Cemetery are now surrounded by mini-storage units of Ten Oaks Storage, 131 Old San Antonio Road. A portion of the former Ten Oak Hill Ranche is part of the Cibolo Preserve.

Note: This post will be updated if any relatives surface with better clues for identifying the Howard siblings.

Postcard from Lecce, Italy: Lavish Baroque details grace Basilica di Santa Croce

basilica di santa croce

Lecce’s natural supply of a soft stone must have been a Baroque architect’s dream come true. Sculptors could carve leaves, flowers, winged creatures and lacey curvaceous Solomonic columns to their hearts content. Baroque architecture dominated Lecce in the 17th and 18th centuries, with the Basilica di Santa Croce perhaps standing as the queen of Lecce’s distinctive elaborate style inside and out.

Santa Croce was built between 1549 and 1646 by the Order of Celestines, a branch of Benedictines founded by Pope Celestin V (1215-1296). The pope was a reluctant one, serving for less than six months before resigning. His edict confirming a pope’s right to abdicate legitimized the retreat of Pope Benedict XVI more than eight centuries later.

Some of the building materials for Santa Croce were salvaged from the temple and homes of Jewish families in Lecce who were expelled by order of the Kingdom of Naples in 1510. Much of the decoration viewed above is the work of Giuseppe Zimbalo (1620-1710). While the atlantes, men, and creatures supporting the balustrade appear whimsical, they are a symbolic celebration of the Holy League’s naval victory over the Ottoman Empire in the 1571 Battle of Lepanto. More than 400 ships participated in the battle, and the death toll at the end was a loss of approximately 7,500 Christians and 30,000 Turks. A devastating defeat for the Ottoman Empire.

The hunched atlantes represent some of the 10,000 Turks captured; the animals guarding them represent the allies who took part in the victorious coalition organized by Pope Pius V (1504-1572) with major financial and naval support from Philip II of Spain (1527-1598). The cute-looking griffin below represents the Kingdom of Genoa; the dragon the Boncompagni family.

 

Postcard from Ostuni, Italy: A white-washed citadel a few olive groves away from the Adriatic Sea

bicycle over ostuni

Experienced travelers as we are, hopping a train for the short ride to Ostuni from Lecce was easy. The flaw in our plan was what to do on arrival. Oh, this is why some people rent cars.

A travel blogger wrote the walk from the station up into town was only a mile or two if cab or bus was unavailable. Neither materialized after what seemed a long wait, so we took off on foot. What the blogger had failed to mention was that the walk was on a stretch of a no-shouldered highway. A sympathetic young woman with a baby on board turned off into a driveway almost immediately to come to the rescue of the two wayward seniors. We gladly hopped in the car. Getting robbed or kidnapped appeared much less likely than getting hit by an automobile. She spoke no English, but went well out of her way to drop us in the center of town.

And everyone in this white-washed town in the heel of Italy was as helpful and friendly, approaching us to offer advice on finding our way around. We were there post-prime-tourist season, so had to navigate our way around the tangle of narrow streets to several restaurants before finding one open for lunch.

But that is both the beauty and fun of Ostuni. Street names change almost every block, and a “street” is often what appears a private stairway. When it came time to try to find the bus back, a trio of men directed us down several flights of unpromising-looking stairs to exactly the right spot where a piccolo autobus transported us and a trio of teens to the station.

The statue atop the column in the middle of a plaza is Ostuni’s patron saint, Saint Orontius of Lecce. The first Bishop of Lecce, he was executed for his Christian faith by axe by a representative of Roman Emperor Nero. But of particular relevance today are the miracles he was credited with centuries later. Residents of Lecce claimed he ended an outbreak of the plague there in 1656, and in Turi it is said he brought an outbreak of cholera to an end in 1851. Better known, Saint Sebastian must be swamped with requests for protection from Covid-19, so maybe light a candle to Saint Orontius as well.

As for the bicycle perched above a rooftop? Pure whimsy.