Don’t know why I have been so worried. But every time I pedaled by St. Mark’s Episcopal Church while it was undergoing renovation, I fretted the bell would disappear when the scaffolding was removed. The bell and an old image of the church inspired me to make “Peace be with you” in 2005.
Hanging in an arch on Jefferson Street, the bell’s past was not peaceful. Legend says it saw service during the Battle of the Alamo. According to the church’s website:
The church bell was cast from a bronze cannon found buried near the Alamo on the grounds of the home of founding members Samuel and Mary A. Maverick.
Abe Levy writes in the San Antonio Express-News the completion of work on the sanctuary will be celebrated on February 3:
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church has had a storied past with the likes of Robert E. Lee among its flock, and Lyndon Johnson marrying Lady Bird inside its native limestone walls.
Among the city’s oldest Protestant churches, it is a downtown landmark with a rich history, especially for generations of Episcopalians.
After 15 years of studying plans and raising money for a campus-wide restoration, St. Mark’s is celebrating its $15 million overhaul. Its most recent phase is a $2.6 million facelift of its sanctuary, originally completed in 1875….
Established in 1858, St. Mark’s is considered the flagship congregation of the Episcopal Diocese of West Texas, producing many bishops through the years and lending the most financial support to diocesan operations among the diocese’s 90 congregations in South Central Texas….
Led by architecture firm Ford, Powell & Carson, renovation work included repositioning the altar to face the congregation. Care was taken to use original colors in plastering and paint, said Father Mike Chalk, rector.
“We took our history very seriously,” he said. “We went back to early pictures of the building, and as we did the restoration, we noticed some colors associated with the original colors of the building…. We’re really trying to reclaim the beauty of the building.”
The entire project was aimed to enhance the original architecture by the celebrated Richard Upjohn, who designed Trinity Church on Wall Street. St. Mark’s is a rare example of Upjohn’s work west of the Mississippi River and is believed to be his only design in San Antonio.
From my print:
They say Sam Maverick forged the bell for St. Mark’s from a cannon used during the Battle of the Alamo.
If only the concept proved contagious….
That bell means a lot to me.
As I pedal by, often with the melody of some ancient hymn echoing in my mind from the carillon at St. John’s Lutheran Church, I wonder how all those semiautomatic assault rifles would sound ringing in church towers throughout the country.
Certainly a lot better than the sound of parents crying.
Note:Apologies for such a low-resolution image. Many of my print images temporarily are trapped in my old computer. My website is also in transition and in somewhat of a state of decomposition, but “peace” is there, albeit in equally low resolution.
Hate to employ such a tired cliché, but it is so to the point.
Not sure whom in the state government Commissioner Jerry Patterson offended to be tossed into the lions’ den of Alamo politics, but the additional Sisyphean task of defending the Alamo against copyright infringement might just send the commissioner calling for an appointment at Alamo Psychiatric Care, conveniently located just outside the compound’s walls and one of more than 1,000 such-named businesses operating right here in the Alamo City.
If one were Alamobsessive to the extreme, one could go through one’s whole life in San Antonio only patronizing businesses electing to honor our Texas heroes by remembering the Alamo in their names. You could comfortably live in the ’09 neighborhood named for its location on a rise overlooking the poor flatlanders living near the Alamo itself.
You could come into and leave this world that way, literally go from cradle to grave, progressing from delivery as a baby by Alamo obstetricians to your final embalmment at Alamo Funeral Home. In this city, as across much of Texas, there is virtually no need to contract for any non-Alamo service from the floors in your house to chimney sweeps on your rooftop (Although in conducting research for this post, I confess I failed to click on any Alamo escort services, fearing I might catch a plague of never-ending promiscuity-promoting pop-ups.).
Last month’s Alamo crisis was all about alcohol. Only last night, Alamo Beer was served publicly on Alamo Plaza. Imagine that.
The Daughters of the Republic of Texas defending the Alamo against an invasion of hooch tend to overlook the abundance of hooch-holding receptacles available in their own gift shop. René Guzman of the San Antonio Express-News described the numerous opportunities to take a “shot for the shrine:”
Next to coffee mugs, shot glasses pack the Alamo gift shop like so many troops of varying heights, widths and alcohol-holding capacities. And nothing puts the “shot” in shot glass quite like an Alamo shotgun-shell shot glass ($4.95) and One Last Shot! pistol shot glass ($4.25). If you prefer your liquor with a bit more dignity, try the Crockett, Bowie and William Travis shot glass three-pack ($9.95).
Photographer Helen L. Montoya of the San Antonio Express-News took photos of items from the Alamo Gift Shop. For some reason, the Daughters of the Republic of Texas diligently defend the inner sanctum of the Alamo Gift Shop from photographers.
Yes, Commissioner Patterson, for lessons in preserving the dignity when remembering the Alamo, you need look no farther than the gift shop shelves themselves. As Guzman wrote:
Dig a little deeper and you’ll find more kitsch than you can throw a rubber Bowie knife at.
The newest commercial affront to the dignity of the shrine arises in the Alamo’s front yard, on the river at the base of the Hyatt Regency, from a lowly worm – The Worm Tequila and Mescal Bar. According to a story in the Express-News by Scott Huddleston, the owners of the bar were seeking a trademark of the phrase “I Can’t Remember the Alamo.”
The General Land Office, newly charged to defend the Alamo and the shelves in its gift shop, rose to the charge. According to Huddleston:
In the new trademark case, the Land Office said the issue is not about alcohol, but preservation of an 1836 Texian battle cry, “Remember the Alamo,” that, to many, still captures the spirit of Texas and the state’s proud but complex history.
Mark Loeffler, Land Office spokesman, said Qwercky’s application mentions mugs, clothing and even underwear as potential merchandise.
“Surely there must be other ways to promote a bar than disparaging the memory of not only the defenders of the Alamo, but the Spanish priests and Native Americans who died there during the 300-year history of the mission,” he said.
The General Land Office need not fear this affront to the battle cry “Remember the Alamo,” emblazoned for years, sometimes in compromising positions, on the front of t-shirts in shop display windows encircling the plaza. The wheels of justice in the state of Texas sometimes turn slowly, but vigilante justice already has taken its course.
The messenger recently escaped from behind the Alamo walls, a Daughter disowned by her siblings, Sarah Reveley summoned the power of facebook to alert the hotel hosting the new bar to the potential dangers to the hotel’s reputation. The response was swift:
Dear Sarah,
I am in receipt of the note you sent our corporate office today regarding your concern over marketing programs by one of our tenants. The Worm is a leased outlet on the river level of our hotel and is an autonomous operation. We unfortunately were not aware of this marketing position and trademark request by the operator until today. I have spoken to the owner and conveyed our concerns with this and have in fact exercised the hotels right that prohibit any advertising that tends to impair the reputation of the area. I have conferred with the owner of this establishment and he is withdrawing the trademark request.
Regards,
Peter
Peter McMahon
General Manager Hyatt Regency San Antonio
If the cash-strapped founders of the Republic of Texas had the foresight to comprehend the potential commercial value of the “Alamo” after the crushing defeat, they certainly would have arrived on the plaza as soon as possible to stake their claim to the word. But they did not, and Alamo businesses began to multiply almost immediately.
Of course, a dramatic way for the General Land Office to leave all the thousands of businesses with Alamo logos throughout the country out in the cold is to give the Alamo a crewcut. Return the facade to its time-of-the-battle flat-top, and trademark the new outline. That would certainly leave warehouses in China full of thousands of outdated t-shirts and shot glasses.
But, with the need for immediate action averted, perhaps Commissioner Patterson should adopt an unusual strategy. “Alamo” is so widespread, it seems impossible to regulate. So don’t.
While it is not in the spirit of the defenders to surrender, raise the white flag. Instead of carefully monitoring people applying to trademark Alamo-this or Alamo-that, rule that there will be absolutely no trademarks issued in the state of Texas with the word “Alamo” in them at all. If entrepreneurs can’t corner the market on a tacky item or ensure competitors can’t immediately copy the name of their businesses, the number of so-named products and businesses might decrease instead of increasing.
Plus, after years of abuse and indignities, some of them suffered within the walls of the Alamo Gift Shop itself, few battle sites in the world are as well-remembered as the Alamo. Even “I can’t remember the Alamo” only makes one remember the Alamo.
Blue Book No. 1, “See Sallie After the Alamo,” digital collage by Gayle Brennan Spencer, http://postcardssanantonio.com.
Update on August 24, 2012: San Antonio Express-Newseditorial suggests “Land Office should drop errant suit:”
Now Patterson has waded into an ill-considered trademark battle with the owner of two bars seeking to block use of an irreverent riff on the battle cry, “Remember the Alamo!” The bar owner is using the phrase, “I Can’t Remember the Alamo.” In a notice filed with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, the Land Office argued that the “applicant’s mark disparages the deceased combatants of the Battle of the Alamo by communicating that their sacrifice was not worthy of memory or esteem.”
The objections of the Land Office are ironic, given the criticism directed at it by those who objected that allowing alcohol to be served at Alamo Hall disparaged the sacrifice of Alamo defenders. The two bars are a block or more away from Alamo Plaza.
The Land Office and taxpayers have a legitimate interest in seeing that the state’s trademark on the phrase “The Alamo” is not infringed upon or diluted. Patrons purchasing “I Can’t Remember the Alamo” merchandise at the bars are not likely to believe those items are officially licensed, any more than they are likely to believe that restaurants or rental car companies that incorporate the Alamo in their names have an official connection to the Cradle of Texas Liberty.
Update on August 28, 2012: Scott Huddleston reports for the Express-News that the General Land Office has hired a firm to manage the gift shop at the Alamo:
Jerry Gilbert, vice president of marketing for Event Network, said the firm was thrilled and humbled to be at the Alamo, and committed to working with the DRT and Land Office in balancing consumerism with reverence at the site. “We’re tremendously sensitive to that issue,” Gilbert said. “We’ll always err toward being smart, being careful.”
If Event Network can’t limbo under the current height of the bar for balancing consumerism and reverence in stocking merchandise, it would be called Ripley’s.
Kathleen Carter. Karen Thompson. You go, girls! Speak your mind.
According to Ken Herman in the Austin Statesman, Texas Land Commissioner Jerry Patterson is attempting to force these leaders of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to bite their tongues:
…Patterson banned Daughters of the Republic of Texas officials from talking to reporters about the Alamo without his agency’s approval. “Information released without prior knowledge and express approval of the GLO may be grounds for immediate contract termination,” says his new rule.
Now those are fighting words.
Commissioner Patterson, you are new at your job. Yes, I know you have been Land Commissioner for a decade, but you are newly arrived at the Alamo. Yes, I know the Sons of the Republic of Texas deemed you a Knight of San Jacinto and you represented the county that includes the soaring monument on the battleground. But having that giant erection in your backyard must have gone to your head.
The Alamo is different. As San Antonians first and Texans second, we regard fighting about the Alamo as a sacred right. We have been fighting publicly about it since 1836, and no one in Austin can quash those afflicted with severe cases of Alamobsession.
Yes, running a dictatorship is easier than a democracy, but the Daughters themselves already tried that approach. Some of the very people Commissioner Patterson wants to silence attempted to gag dissension among their own siblings. Without success. Fortunately for Texas. If Daughters were not so persistently outspoken, the General Land Office would not be in charge of the Alamo today.
Aside from supporting their right to free speech, my agreement with the Daughters probably pretty much stops there. Although, I never thought the Daughters would call trump with the double-edged Native American card.
1936 Texas Centennial No 5, “The Alamo always Trumps,” digital collage by Gayle Brennan Spencer, Visit http://postcardssanantonio.com.
Again, from Herman’s column in the Statesman:
…Daughters’ President General Karen R. Thompson said her organization “strongly” objects to the change. “The Alamo grounds are considered sacred, not only because 189 men died in battle on March 6, 1836, but because the remains of Native Americans are buried and entombed in the complex property,” she said in a statement.
The Daughters and the descendants of the original Native Americans whose labors contributed to the ancient mission’s walls are rarely on the same page. But adversity calls for uniting all underdogs.
And unite against what common enemy?, you might ask if you make it this far into this post.
“Hooch,” as Carter terms it. If you somehow missed this story affecting the lives of all Texans, catch up by reading Scott Huddleston’s “Hold the ‘Hooch’” in the San Antonio Express-News. The Land Commissioner has proposed alcohol could be served to those renting out Alamo Hall, not the Alamo itself, for special events.
Yes, the painful specter of prohibition raises its head once again. The leadership of the Daughters evidently thinks nothing stronger than apple cider should be raised in toasts anywhere near the Alamo.
Apple cider? What would Davey say?
While I’m willing to accept William Barrett Travis might have been a teetotaler, what about the rest of the guys?
Taking a lead of freedom of revision of history from the Texas State Board of Education and accepting Travis did indeed draw a line in the sand…. If Travis asked how many men wanted to be forced to convert to Catholicism, many men at the Alamo would have leapt to join him for the promise of freedom of religion.
If Travis asked who wants to continue to ride deep into the heart of Coahuila every time you want to conduct official business, not many at the Alamo would have stayed on the side of Mexico. That was a major inconvenience.
But, on the other hand, if Travis had drawn a line and said you can drink alcohol on the Mexican side but my side is dry? Travis might have found himself pretty lonely.
Free speech I’m all for preserving, so the Daughters get my backing on that issue. But keeping Alamo Hall, which was off the battle site, dry? Not worth fighting for.
This is not an “Alamoment.” Seems as though both the Daughters and the Commissioner should pick their battles more carefully. They should be forging a strong partnership, not tearing it asunder.
What would Davey say? Remaining in the revisionist vein of amateur historians, I think he gladly would raise a glass of something hard:
Postcards from Barton Springs 