Driving Highway 90

We spent much of a day driving US Highway 90 in a straight line across Texas. You'd think it would get boring but this was what we had left the Keys to find: something different.

We passed through small towns and I'd like to describe them as "quaint" but they aren't. At  best I could say they are utilitarian but there is very little of the picturesque  or memorable about collections of homes, mobile homes, trailers, broken down cars and stuff I couldn't put a name to hidden by dust and weeds.

We didn't stop as we had gas and a full fridge by design and the plan was to get close to Big Bend National park which is the big and basically only draw in this part of the world where the Rio Grand makes a big bend. Our goal was the town of Marathon, which I joke ad nauseam is not the one in the Keys.

Cell service came and went and mostly went so we relied on our wits to amuse ourselves. I sent a couple of texts when my phone woke up to this message. Thank you Mexico for filling in where the US failed us!

Long and straight with frequent passing spaces and occasional picnic areas where you can park for up to 24 hours. That's west Texas and US Highway 90.

I got bored enough to photograph myself and the van as we cruised at 55 miles per hour. We planned to arrive close to sunset and had no need to hurry and burn gas.

We didn't go deep into Marathon, we had no need to… the gas station Alon as at the junction for Highway 385 south to Big Bend. I pulled in to get eight gallons of gas to avoid the risk of getting close to running out   The Del Rio fiasco of nearly running out twice was uppermost in my mind. A pick up truck pulled in to the next pump. The driver, a man in his fifties glanced at GANNET 2. "From Key West?" he asked. It turns out his wife had been vacationing in Key West a couple of weeks prior so we talked about the relative merits of US 1, slow and scenic, and Highway 90 fast and empty. He laughed when I said I was enjoying the new and different views as he has seem them a lot. "Check out the pizza across the street," his parting words. "It's really good."

He was correct. The huge pile housing the pizza parlor (below) was a hive of activity and what we saw looked good. Layne agreed to save the tamales which were still slowly defrosting and we ordered sausage mushroom and pepperoni on a twelve inch pizza. 30 minutes theny said so I set my alarm and took Rusty off to inspect defunct machinery and dust devils.

Someone who looked like the owner's daughter popped out after twenty minutes with our pizza  and a smile. The van immediately smelled delicious. Ten minutes later we were parked as night started to fall at a rather clean neat picnic area along the highway. We had  a strong Verizon signal and NPR at 93.5 ( Marfa Public Radio), our entertainment cup flowed over! To my surprise the picnic pull out was empty and it seemed so convenient, just an hour's drive to Panther Crossing, the headquarters of the park. Dinner was delicious, sleep was deep and the pizza box, now empty, fit perfectly in the roadside trashcan.

Langtry

The only law west of the Pecos is a catchphrase ever since Judge Roy Bean labeled himself thus. Today's installment stops by his home, courthouse, billiard room and the place where he died.

US Highway 90 runs along the southern edge of Texas and after a few miles from the Seminole Canyon State Park it crosses the Pecos River, which itself cuts an impressive swath through the desert.

I read somewhere that some anonymous person has decreed that The West starts here. Fair enough then. There was little enough traffic on this major artery we managed to snag a decent picture from the bridge. 

Langtry is a ghost town and I doubt anyone would notice it were it not for the colorful life of Judge Roy Bean.

Roy Bean would be impeached in moments today but the place where he dispensed his form of justice was rather wild and wooly between say 1870 and 1910, broadly speaking, and he took full advantage.

In the photograph below we see the bespectacled image of the man who put Langtry on the map, a British immigrant by the name of W H Dodd, another of those incomers to this country who make nomads like me look bad. He became a pillar of the community wherein worked Judge Bean.

When I was in Langtry on my Vespa 200 in 1981 the story they told rather colorfully was that Judge Bean had a massive crush on a singer from the Channel Island of Jersey, essentially a British singer called Lillie Langtry, "The Jersey Rose." So they said he named the town for her, a tidbit I have remembered lo these 40 years.  He certainly did name his bar for her!

So much for that. The truth is the town was named for a surveyor called Langtry and the rest of the nonsense is all part of the allure of the infamous Justice of the Peace, a man who knew how to sell himself most outrageously and successfully. His bar/courthouse still stands, amazingly enough. Note the mention of the Jersey Lily (misspelled) on the front of the bar/courtroom.

Layne wanted to pose behind the bar but the state park rule forbad such licentiousness, so as you can see times have changed West of the Pecos.

As bare of furnishings as the place is you can still evoke the atmosphere of that time. When I am tempted to think the stories about Judge Bean are over the top I am forced to recollect Key West's own Tony Tarracino who lived outrageously and sold himself very successfully...So before you write off Judge Bean it's worth remembering some people are gifted at selling themselves.

Here we have the adjoining billiard room where Bean died in 1903.

The view from behind exposes the very tiny courthouse complex that housed the oversized character. It is now protected by a very. modern air conditioned museum in front and access to all of it is totally free. 

We took a walk through town after we inspected the grounds and paused in the shade of the museum building bathed in the glow of the free WiFi.  Verizon has overlooked coverage in this metropolis.

The Jersey Lily bar named no doubt in homage has closed and a hand painted sign directed us to its replacement a mile up the other entrance to town back on Highway 90.

Langtry sits on a bluff overlooking the Rio Grande, the border river known to Mexicans as the Rio Bravo del Norte (the fierce river of the north). The Mexican side of this river is pretty empty all the way to Presidio, with a series of cliffs and canyons housing just two small villages. The American side isn't much more populated with a few small towns, the national and state parks and a road that parallels the river with, we found, hardly any traffic. Little wonder cell coverage is spotty.

That mark of civilization, the postal service is alive and well in Langtry.

But as you can see they need a Fantasy Fest or similar to get people to show up around here. Rusty owned Main Street and he made the most of it as we walked its length.

Judge Bean applied his own logic to the law. Essentially the good Judge pocketed the fines he levied as his paycheck so if a case, or a defendant didn't look likely to yield a payout he was not terribly interested in dealing with the case. Hence his fame for rapid judgements.

I got the sense from a few historical notes that the Texas Rangers who were the police force in the area were less than enthusiastic about the judge's methods and his judicial reasoning. There is a documented story that a boxing match the Judge wanted to sponsor was not permitted by the rangers so the judge organized the fight anyway. For more color on the colorful judge check Wikipedia: LINK

The only thing was he set the bout up on a sand bar in the rover on the Mexican side of the line rendering the rangers powerless to stop it and not endearing himself to them at all. Especially as his notoriety skyrocketed after this act of judicial defiance.

Locally I saw signs of defiance among the rather raggedy homes and down at heel population. A flag with a picture of a 19th century cannon with the slogan "Come and Take It" rang a rather pathetic note. I don't see any of his fellow Texans lining up to take his guns or his rather fragile self respect..

This shabby little house is worried about the state of the nation, which is rather touching in an ironic sort of way considering whitewash and yard work are beyond his ken or his budget.

There lies Mexico, indifferent to the thoughts and feelings of forgotten Langtry.

Langtry was founded and named in honor of an eagle's nest in the Mexican cliffs of the river, as explained below:

Rusty awoke the interest of this prisoner serving life behind bars. A sweet old boy desperate to play with my superior dog who ignored him and trotted away. 

We said goodbye to Langtry the little town that time forgot but in proper style no one noticed or cared. We headed west toward Highway 90.

We had conceived a desire for ice cream on the warm windy very dry afternoon and we stopped by the shop, which also sells gas for the desperately unprepared. The ice cream was not delicious but the owner  who does not take credit cards did have a pack of Tamales for sale, a frozen pack of twelve for twelve dollars. Irresistible and they were actually very good. However we ended up giving some away to fellow travelers as our freezer is small the tamales were huge. Eccentric shopping seems to fit the style of West Texas.

Back on the road dipping and lifting in long straight lines to the horizon. Excellent driving.