Go directly to
His family
The war
Trail drives
Supplying a drive
Biscuits
The house
Hog killing
Jackass
A man's name
Parrot
For many years it has seemed to me that someone should write down the deeds of this great
man. Someone who knew him personally and was associated with him. I have waited
for a more gifted writer than I, and one who possibly knew him better, to undertake the task.
I have waited until all who knew him personally, nearly all have passed on and the ones
left probably don't feel equal to the problem. Neither do I, but I am going to make a
feeble effort, feeling that it is going to be a miserable failure.
I was a small boy - just eleven years old - when he died, but I can remember him quite
well. I can well remember sitting on his lap, from my earliest remembrance until I was too
big to sit on laps. And after that, he would call me to him and put his arm around me, and make
me stand beside his chair until I got tired of standing. He loved children and it seemed that
I was his special pet.
He moved onto his river-bottom farm below the mouth of the Hondo creek (later known as the
Charlie Tate Farm) when I was too young to remember, and he would come down everyday to see
how things were going. At first he rode a small dun pony, with a black mane and tail and a
stripe down his back, but soon got too feeble to mount a horse easily and had to change to a
buggy. He drove two ponies to this buggy, but this arrangement wasn't altogether satisfactory,
as the ponies were not gentle and would not stand still long enough for him to get in and get
seated. One time they started up while he was standing between the wheels trying to get in,
and knocked him down with the rear axle, and bruised him pretty badly. However, the main
disadvantage of the buggy was that it took too much room to turn it around in the turning row.
He discarded it and bought a two-wheeled gig. This proved to be unsatisfactory also, as it was
too high and as hard to mount as a horse. The pony that he worked to it was not gentle either
and ran away with him one day and turned the gig over and dragged Mr. Choate a long way. This
bruised him up worse than the other accident and kept him in bed several days. This just
about ended his daily visits to the farm by himself. After this he would get somebody to take
him in the buggy. However he wasn't able to do this very long as his strength was failing and
it exhausted him too much. It wasn't necessary for him to go every day, as things were going
alright, but he did so love to get out and stir around. He had always been an active outdoor
man and spent very little time in the house, and now things had reversed. It displeased him very
much, but there was nothing he could do about it.
On his daily visits to the farm, he would always come to our house about midmorning or
midafternoon and my mother would always have a fresh pot of coffee made for him. We missed
this a great deal when he got too feeble to come every day. The farm was nearly two miles
from the ranch house and there were two gates to open. I will give a partial description of
the ranch headquarters a little later on, as best as I remember it.
The record says that James Monroe Choate was born in Tennessee on April 22, 1822, and was
married to Miss Elizabeth Adkinson on June 2, 1844. Their first son John Henry was born August
28, 1847 in Mississippi. Somewhere along the line they moved from Tennessee to Mississippi, but
it is not known whether it was before or after his marriage. His son Dunk was bom February 17,
1851 in Leon County, Texas. The next date recorded was his move to Karnes County, Texas in 1855,
and this is where he spent the rest of his life.
I do not know how many of his relatives came with him, but I do know of four brothers-in-law,
and know two of them, Mr. Booth and Mr. Collins, personally. I understand that the wives were
Mr. Choate's sisters. I don't think any of Mr. Choate's relatives came to Karnes County. The
other two brothers-in-law were Mr. Trimble and Jack Scraggins. Judge Lawhon's wife was a
relative, but only a cousin, I think. There were other Choates in this county and some of
them, Moses and Crockett were brothers to Monroe, I think. There were others who were no
relation of his.
When Mr. Choate arrived in Karnes County, he filed on a tract of land lying about midway along
the course of Hondo Greek. He dug a well and built a house and began to raise and traffic in
livestock. He and Mr. Trlmble and Mr. Borroum, a neighbor. There was not much market for
livestock any where near, but they sold hides and tallow and shipped by boat from Powderhorn.
They would load up wagons and haul down there and bring back supplies for themselves and the
neighbors. His first house was of logs, but he got lumber here to improve it.
Mr. Choate's livestock business grew and multiplied rapidly, and so did his family, but his
boys didn't grow and develop fast enough to keep up with his business, so he had to hire
outside help. In just a few years he was operating on a pretty big scale. Here is where he
launched out on a career as a benefactor of the Southwest. When the Civil War broke out,
every able-bodied man was called into the service. This left the country in a mighty bad
shape. Women and small children left to rustle for themselves as best they could. Indlans
and Mexicans deprecating through the country, stealing, pilfering and terrorizng the people
and no men to defend them. Mexicans from across the Rio Grande, in great numbers, sweeping
through the country driving off all the horses and cattle that they could round up, and no
menfolk to resist them. This left the country devastated, and this is where Mr. Choate proved
himself to be a real benefactor. Several times he gathered up old men and small boys and gave
chase and recovered lots of stolen stock.
This kept up all during the war and for several years afterwards. The stockmen complained
to Mexico through diplomatic channels. But Mexico insisted that the thieves were not from
Mexico, but were Texas Mexicans and they were therefore not responsible for their deeds.
Finally the ranchers got the proof on them that they needed, and the Mexican government asked
that the ranchers file claims against the Mexican government. This they did and it was batted
around between the two governments until the spring of 1873, when a commission of
representatives of the two governments was appointed to meet in Helena to check and verify
these claims. This commission was composed of high ranking army officers of both sides.
And the Mexicans agreed to pay all claims filed prior to 1872 with interest. These claims
totaled several hundred thousands of dollars, and to date about half these claims have been
paid in full. The others are pending proof of heirship of claimants. Mr. Choate helped many
to get their claims filed, and his testimony against the Mexicans was effective as he had
chased many bunches trying to get away with stock.
During the war, Mr. Choate gathered cattle and drove them East to supply the Confederate
armies. In 1862 he and Mr. Borroum drove two herds of beeves east of the Mississippi River
and delivered them to the army, dealing directly with Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard, whose headquarters
were in New Orleans. These herds were either bought outright by Messrs. Choate and Borroum or
were composed of steers sent along by neighbors, usually widows with children and women whose
husbands were in the army, who agreed to take whatever Mr. Choate could get for them. Most of
the time, this is what was done as money was scarce and besides "whose money was legal tender"?
Mr. Choate took several herds each year during the war and delivered these to the
Confederates, but the last herd was delivered to the Yankies, or rather they took it and
Mr. Choate and his men were lucky to get out alive.
After the war was over, there was no market for beef cattle and the range soon got over
stocked, even with the Mexicans driving them off. But it wasn't so easy now for them, as some
of the men returned from the war and others began to drift in, getting away from the "sassy
negros" in the East. Some of course had other reasons for coming West. Texas had the cattle,
but no market; the North and the East had the market but no cattle. Then the big drives began.
Mr. Choate again proved himself the benefactor of the Southwest. He had the equipment, the
experience and the confidence of the people. In those days, having the equipment to move a
herd very far was no small item. Each outfit had to have a fully equipped chuck-wagon,
complete with team, harness, cooking utensils, sheet and bows, chuck-box and other necessary
things, and a good supply of food. Besides he had to have a sufficient supply of saddle horses
for his hands, usually about 10 men. Some of the experienced trail-hands liked to furnish their
own mounts. They didn't like to have to take the kinks out of "a ladino's back" every morning.
Their own horses were well broken and gentle. Each hand needed about six horses, and for ten
men, this would be sixty horses, no small item itself.
Mr Choate had gained the confidence of his neighbors by being fair and honest with them, and
this established for him an almost unlimited credit with business flrms and individuals from the
Rio Grande to the ends of the cattle trails in all directions. He could got anything he wanted
anywhere along the trail. All that was necessary was for him to say was "I will pay you" and
that was good as cash.
In the spring, before the round-up, he would got a pretty good idea of how many herd he was
going to send up, and would begin to got things ready. If he needed new harness and camp
supplies, he would go to Cuero and get them. He would get just about all the things that he
needed, while there, for the entire trip for all the outfits. This was a lot of groceries.
Think of feeding 100 men for several months! Of course, sometimes he wouldn't be able to get
everything he needed for his outfits and would have to get those along the way. This method of
his buying in such large quantities won him the nickname of "Sack Choate." He always called for
every thing by the sackful. This name distinguished him from Moses Choate, who bought every
thing by the dollar, and was called "Dollar Choate."
Here again Mr. Choate proved himself benefactor. He usually sent three or four wagons at
a time, about once a month, to Cuero and about two or three times a year he would send several
wagons to Powderhorn and Indianola for things he couldn't get in Cuero. The neighbors were
always notified so they could send along their lists and he usually hauled back more stuff for
the neighbors than he did for himself. Sometimes these neighbors wouldn't have the money to
send along and Mr. Choate would buy it with his money and they would pay him back either with
money or work. He employed lots of men at times and this provided likelihood for many families.
He always had a pretty big bunch of cowhands at the ranch house, just stragglers who had no
families. These he had to board and bed. The bed was usually any place he could find to
spread the blanket, inside or outside the house.
The Choates always kept a big bunch of hounds around, and they raised most of them. There
were always several puppies of various ages and sizes and they were playful and mischievous
and dragged off everything that wasn't tied down. The hands that lived there were always
complaining about the puppies carrying off their boots, hats, trousers, or anything else left
lying around. Bob Barefield, a neighbor, spent the night there and got up the next morning
and was dressing when Mr. Choate noticed he didn't have any socks, and asked him where they
were. Bob said that he didn't own any. Mr. Choate said "Bob, you are the damndest fool I ever
saw. Why didn't you get up raising hell about the puppies carrying off your socks?" At that
time several of the boys were engaged in looking around the puppies playhouse for various
articles carried off by them during the night.
Soon after the war, Mr. Borroum died, and shortly before or after Mrs. Choate died. And
Mr. Choate and Mrs. Borroum married. To this union was born one son and they named him
Charlie. To shorten the story a little bit I will state that Mr. and Mrs. Choate lived together
some fifteen or twenty years and then separated. She went back to her people at her old home
in Sweet Home in Lavaca County. This separation took place before I can remember, but I
remember her very well nevertheless. She came back on a visit and stayed several days and
nights at our house. This was about four years before Mr. Choate died. One thing I remember
about her so clearly, was that she couldn't drink coffee, and at breakfast she would have a
cup of hot water with a little sugar in it. I thought this the most peculiar beverage I ever
saw anyone drink.
She was a very intelligent person and an interesting talker. She told a very interesting
and vivid story of the assassination of Dr. Philip Brazzell, her brother-in-law, and his son
George, by the Sutton Party, who were feuding with the Taylors and their followers. Dr.
Brazzell was strictly neutral and had treated many of the wounds of both sides, and his murder
was the winding up of the Sutton Party. Many men who had been neutral all through it, rose up
and put an end to them. Dr. Brazzell didn't have an enemy and it was established that the
Sutton gang killed him.
In the division of Mr. Choate's estate, Mrs. Choate was given a child's share, and the
occasion of her last visit with us was while she was disposing of it.
It seems that Mr. Choate could never got title to the land he filed on, when he come to
Kames County. Two Spanish surveys seemed to overlap on the property and it was impossible to
establish which was the right one.
This place was known as "The Half Circle Two Ranch," that being Mr. Choate's cattle brand, a
figure 2 with a half circle above it. When Mr. Choate was convinced that he could never get
title to it, he bought the entire tract know as The Encarnacion Vasquez Survey located on the
west side of the San Antonio River. This ranch had about two miles of river front, from the
mouth of the Hondo downstream, and ran back west, for about fifteen miles, getting wider as
it left the river. This ranch was known as "The H Cross Ranch," this being his horse brand.
Here he kept most of his horses. He operated both of the ranches for a number of years, and
eventually moved his residence there. The northern boundary of this tract was about four or
five miles from the southern line of the Carlos Martinez Grant and ran almost parallel with it.
There were many small tracts of state land between these surveys and they filled up rapidly
with settlers. When they began to fence their property, this created a problem. The country
had always been open and when anybody wanted to go somewhere, he could strike out across the
country, going the most direct route. There were established roads between towns and dim
settlement roads running into them. When travelers came to a fence across the road, they
usually tossed a coin to see which end of the fence to follow to find a gate.
Sometimes they made a bad guess and traveled many miles, when if they had taken the other
end, they would have found a gate a short distance away.
Three wagon loads of travelers were passing through the country on their way to a place
they had in mind and had received instructions and directions back the road a few miles.
But it seems that the one giving them directions was not aware that a fence had recently been
built across the road. When they got to the fence, they scouted each end of it for a half mile
or more and didn't find a gate. So they decided to try their luck and selected the end that
was more nearly going the direction they wanted to go. After following it for a mile or two,
it cornered and turned back, carrying them almost the opposite direction they wanted to go.
They decided they had gone too far back to try the other end of the fence, so they kept on,
cutting trees and brush and working down creek banks until late in the evening, they came to
Mr. Choate's ranch. Mr. Choate had a bunch of hands working with a bunch of stock they had
penned up. When these travelers drove up and got out, and two or three of the men came to the
cow-lot where the men were working. My father was in the pen, helping with the stock, and
Mr. Choate said "Babe, go see what they want." My father went to the gate and asked them what
they wanted, and they said they wanted to buy some bread and get permission to camp there
overnight. When my father made this known to Mr. Choate, it made him a little mad and he
raised his voice until it could be heard echoing down through the woods and said "Hell by God
(his favorite expression) I ain't running a bakery; tell them to go to the house and tell the
cook to give them a tubful of biscuits." The travelers conferred among themselves and told my
father that the gentleman seemed to be mad and they would do without the bread. My father told
them that they better do as he said and go get the bread or Mr. Choate would get real mad and
not let them camp there. He told them that Mr. Choate was not mad but he was a big hearted man
and wouldn't think of charging strangers for bread. This was one thing he was noted for, and he
was never known to refuse to help anyone who needed it.
One spring, in 1873 to be exact, when time for the round-up came, Mr. Choate fixed all his
outfits and sent them out. He took two or three outfits together with a lot of neighbors, and
went down in the western part of Bee County and partly in Live Oak County, several miles below
Oakville. About the third day out, Mr. Choate took violently ill, and my father and Dunc Choate
brought him home, arriving about sundown. He was a very sick man and they filled him full of
purgative and such other remedies they had, and put him to bed and sat down to await the results.
About 9:00 o'clock someone "Hellowed" at the front gate and Mr. Choate said "Babe, go see
who it is, and what he wants." My father went out and there were about fifteen armed masked
man sitting on their horses. They told my father that they were Taylor men (of the
Taylor-Sutton feud) and had come to get reinforcements, as the Sutton Gang was congregated
about 100 strong on the Collet Creek below Yorktown and were going to make a drive on the
Taylor settlement, about where Nordheim now stands, and they wanted all the men of the house
to go with them, and they were not taking "No" for an answer.
My father told them that they had just arrived with Mr. Choate from the round-up in Bee
County and that he was a very sick man. They didn't believe the story and wanted Mr. Choate
to come out. They kept insisting until Mr. Choate dragged himself out on the gallery and
opened up on them. My father said he never heard such a blistering lecture as he gave those
men. He told them to go back to their county and behave themselves , and not go bothering
disinterested people and dragging them into this brawl. They didn't get Mr. Choate.
Just how many herds Mr. Choate sent up the year of 1873 is not known, but it was more than
the year before. Mr. George Saunders, author of "The Trail Drivers of Texas," states that in
1871 Mr. Choate sent up sixteen herds. The next year, 1872, the market was good and buyers
plentiful, and this caused a rush to get to the market while the price was good. The year
1873 was the year of the money panic and drivers getting to market late were unable to sell,
and had to hold over and winter there. Luckily, Mr. Choate got there early and sold, but the
price had gone down until he just about broke even.
Nearly all the business of the southwest
at that time was done on the silver dollar and it was plentiful. Ranchmen carried it in
morrals, saddle pockets, mealsacks and boxes. There was practically no banking business at
all done among local people. If money was involved in any deal, it was transferred immediately
in silver dollars.
The government sold bonds to citizens with piles of silver dollars, who thought Government
Bonds were good investments, and then devalued the silver dollar. Congress set the ratio
between gold and silver at 15 to 1. It seems things haven't changed much along that line
since then. We have similar troubles now.
Sometlme during Mr. Choate's cattle driving days, he formed a partnership wth Mr. Bennett.
I never knew who he was nor where he lived, but I heard my father call him "John Bennett" in
speaking of him. To what extent he was interested in the cattle, I do not know. He probably
had banking connections and supplied the money to gather these herds and deliver them to
northern markets. Mr. Choate furnished the knowledge and equipment and taking the
responsibility. Mr. Choate accompanied the herds for several years in the beginning of these
drives. But it must be remembered that he was not a young man then.
After the beeves were all gathered, and the herds started, Mr. Choate would go to Helena
and take the stage coach to Indianola and board a coastwise vessel for New Orleans, and there
get on a river steamer and go up the Mississippi to St. Louis, and from there by train to Dodge
City, and wait for the herds. Sometimes he would hire a rig and drive down the trail 50 or 100
miles and meet them, to see how they were getting along. Sometimes he would bring a buyer with
him and sell away down there, to be delivered in Dodge or some other place. He told a joke on
one of these trips. When he arrived In New Orleans, he went to a hotel to spend the night and
wait for a steamer going up the river. The hotels in those days had dining rooms and served
meals. This one was a little more modern and served meals to order only. The water brought a
Bill-of-Fare, called Menu these days, and put it in front of Mr. Choate. He picked it up and
scanned it over and handed it back to the water and said, "Just fill the bill."
Mr. Choate was illiterate, and unable to read or write at all, not even English, much less
French. The waiter was French and didn't speak English very well, so he puzzled for a moment
and went to the kitchen and turned in some kind of an order. In a few minutes it was ready and
he was setting it down. Mr. Choate scooped it up and guzzled it down and turned to the waiter
and said, "The sample was good, bring me some of all of it."
As stated, Mr. Choate was illiterate, never having gone to school a day in his life. But
he gave all his children a good education. His sons would do the figuring and writing and
bookwork for him. They were all stockmen by nature and training, and good business men by
education, and were very devoted to their father.
Mr. Choate was of small stature, about five feet seven Inches tall and weighing about 140
pounds. He was light complexioned, with thin sandy hair, a little inclined to kink. He
never shaved and wore his beard long. It too was thin, showing the sides of his face through
it. In his last years he was bald and his beard snow white, except around his mouth, where
it was stained yellow from tobacco smoke. He smoked Bull Durham regularly and a pipe
occasionally. He never wore glasses, as he couldn't read and didn't do anything that required
glasses, but could see as well or better than most young people. He could look out across
the side of a hill and read a brand on an animal better than most of the cowhands.
I shall never forget his hat. If he ever had more than one at a time, I didn't know it.
He could wear but one at a time and couldn't see any sense in having one hanging an the wall
and not being used. He always bought a good one and took care of it and it lasted a long
time. The ones that I remember were what are generally called white hats. They were not
the "white" white hats, but were what was known to the hat trade as "Belly Nutra," a
grayish white. The brim was not very wide, about three and a half inches and the crown
was low, and he always crushed it in around the edges, so it would sit flat on top of his
head. And of course, the ever present chin string fastened to the hat, just over the
ears to keep from losing it in a tight.
The tight came when he was chasing an animal in the brush or against the wind. The
broad-brimmed high crowned hat of today, known as a stockman's hat, was unknown then, and is
useless in the brush.
I remember well his boots and spurs, and the boot-jack by his bed. It was a habit of
stockmen in those days when they bought new boots, to put their spurs on them and never take
them off. The boots and spurs stayed together until one or the other wore out. Most of the
time he wore "Congress" shoes, rubber-sides and no caps. They were easier to get on and off
than boots, but he didn't like them. He loved his boots. As he began to get old, his back gave
him trouble and it hurt him to put on and take off boots.
He liked to have his back rubbed, and there wasn't always somebody handy to do it. His
grandson Boon Choate detested doing it and always got out of it (and every thing else) when
he could. One day his back was hurting so bad he couldn't stand it and Boon was the only one
present, so he had to do it.
The house on the H Cross Rench was a typical ranch house. It was in an ideal spot and its
setting was perfect. It was located on the east side of a big motte of large liveoak trees.
A few trees on the north and south side of the house, but standing apart some distance from the
rest. The motte on the west covered some three or four acres. This is where the pens were,
very few of the oaks not being inside the pens. The fences were made by setting two good heavy
mesquite posts, about ten feet long deep in the ground about 10 or 12 inches apart, tying them
together with rawhide straps, after heavy smooth wire, and filling in with rails, about 10 or
12 feet long. This fence had to be about seven or eight feet high to keep those old "ladino"
steers from jumping out.
The house set well back of these pens and about seventy-five steps away. The main entrance
gate, and possibly the only outside one, was near the back and opposite the house. Directly
in back of the house to the north was a small garden and orchard. Back of the pens and
gardens was a hog pasture extending on north to the liveoak creek, about a half mile away, and
the brush in it was so thick, you couldn't stick a butcher knife in it to the hilt. In front
of the house was open, no brush and very few small trees. It probably had been grubbed to give
a better view, and to give the southwest breeze a better sweep. A little draw came down in
front of the house and emptied into the liveoak creek several hundred yards below. This draw
was unbroken with just gentle sloping sides. A wagon could drive across it anywhere. The soil
was deep sandy loam and never got very muddy. The main road from Helena, via Wofford
Crossing, Dalleyville, Pecks Crossing to Goliad, ran about half or three-quarters of a mile
to the west of the house, about where the highway now stands.
This put the pens between the house and the road. The windmill and well were in back of
the house about where the pens, hog pasture, and garden joined. It was about two miles from
the house to the river.
The whole layout was ideal and most beautful. The house was typical southern style, two
large rooms about 18 by 24 feet, with a wide shed room all the way across and a wide open hall
between the rooms running clear through the house. A wide gallery ran all the way across the
front. It seems to me, there was a bannister across the front of the gallery, but none on the
end. The house was made of one-by-twelve boxing with OG bats in the cracks, no ceiling on the
walls or overhead, and a shingle roof. There was a large rock chimney at each end of the house,
with a fireplace large enough to take a pretty big back-log.
The kitchen was at the far end of the house, and the dining table near the house so people
would not have to pass through the kitchen to get to the dining table. It was a pretty big
job to cook for such a large bunch as they had to feed. The cook that I remember was a Mexican
named Chencho. There had been negro men and women and other Mexican men in the past. The
cooks had to have helpers as it took a lot of grub to feed the hungry cowboys and one person
couldn't prepare it by himself. They had an immense wood range, and it kept the helper
hopping just to keep it hot. Keeping wood hauled and cut for this stove and two fireplaces was
just about one man's full job. Besides having the meals on time and a sufficient quantity of
it, the coffeepot was kept boiling from daybreak until late at night. No wonder Mr. Choate
had to buy coffee by the sack. One of the duties of the cook was to roast and grind the
coffee, as the only way it could be bought in those days was green. I can remember when
roasted coffee was first handled in the stores.
Hog killing time at the Choate ranch was a sight to see. It took lots of bacon, ham, sausage
and lard to run them from one season to the next. I don't remember hearing anyone say how many
hogs they would kill each winter, but I heard my father say that Mr. Choate would not bother
with butchering six or eight at a time. This was just about enough to keep them in fresh meat
from one cold spell until the next. I remember seeing three 30-gallon wash-pots rendering lard
at one time, and an old negro woman stirring it with a long wooden paddle. I have seen them
making soap in these kettles, out of the cracklings and stale grease and bacon scraps.
Mr. Choate always remembered his neighbors at hog killing time, especially those who didn't
have hogs to kill, and would send them fresh meat.
The hallway was a favorite gathering place in the summer time. It created a draft and was
always cool. In this hall was a five-gallon jug of whiskey at all times, free to all comers.
And incidentally, I don't remember ever seeing Mr. Choate with enough of it to make him stagger,
unless it was one Christmas when they made a jug of eggnog. I can't say as much for others I've
seen tapping it.
Mr. Choate had his easy chair out on the gallery where he could get a good view of what was
going on all around. After the cattle business began to fall off and the drives ceased, he
turned his attention to raising horses and later mules. He was a great lover of horses, but
especially blooded ones. He bought five stallions to breed up his stock, and he also had race
stock. I remember one fine sorrel Rondo stallion that he kept in a pen and stable all the
time. I believe his name was "Cap," after Capt. Crawford Sykes, a famous breeder of this Rondo
stock. The founder original sire of this breed was a sorrel stallion, flax mane and tail, that
John Wesley Hardin bought at Comanche and ran him in several races there, winning so much money
that he went on a spree and killed Charlie Webb. He was finally convicted and served several
years in prison for it. After the race at Comanche, the stallion was brought to Gonzales and
Wilson Counties, and Mr. Sykes, who lived at Rancho in Wilson County, got some of his colts and
began to raise stock. Their fame spread and Mr. Choate acquired this fine stallion.
He also sent off and got a fine Kentucky Jack to raise work mules. The old jack was kept
staked out in front of the house, with a forty-foot rope. He walked around the stake until he
had the ground barren and packed as hard as a threshing floor, as far as the rope would let him
go. He would kill any dog, hog, goat, calf, or fowl that came in his reach. Being staked where
he was, he had a full view of the road approaching from the public road and would bray when he
saw anyone coming, and this would excite the guinees and they would all gather around and
chatter. Everybody and everything was glad to see somebody come. The old jack had a peculiarity
that was interesting and odd. He would bray at 12 o'clock noon, exactly on the dot, and would
not miss it a half minute. It was so accurate and regular, that they could set their clock by
it. This bray he would let out at noon, was different from the others during the day, or when
visitors would come. It was a long drawn out affair and more musical, using nearly every tone
in the scale. Neighbors around not knowing this peculiarity, on coming to the ranch about
noon, wouldn't believe that he would do it, and would offer to bet money. Their bets were
always called and they would lose. What caused him to do this was never known. He didn't have
a sun dial in him, because he was just as punctual on rainy days as sunshiny days. This kept
Mr. Choate interested.
Another source of pleasure Mr. Choate had in his declining days was an old parrot he
acquired somewhere. I have a vague remembrance hearing him say that he got him in New Orleans.
The old bird was very fond of Mr. Choate and called him Grampa. He would sit on a plate on the
rail of the front porch, that ran from a post to the wall. When Mr. Choate would sit out there
in his easy chair, Polly would get on his shoulder and lap, and snip buttons off his clothing.
He learned to say many words and imitate many sounds. He sure dealt the hounds misery. He
learned to whistle for them and to make a noise like the cow horn they blow to call the dogs.
When he would whistle or blow the horn, every dog on the place would come running. Poor old
Polly had many fights with owls trying to catch him. One night he lost the fight (he was
getting old and weak) and when the owl flew off with him, the folks could hear him calling
"Grampa."
Following the hounds was one of the sports of the day and Mr. Choate loved it as well as
anybody. Before he got too old, he would go wildcat hunting at night. Coon hunting down on the
river was another sport he liked. The sport that he enjoyed most though, was horse racing.
He was a good judge of a fast horse and wouldn't hesitate to put his money on his judgment.
That was one of the last sports that he gave up. I don't think I ever saw him playing cards.
Mr. Choate seemed to take very little interest in politics. It wasn't a game that could be
played open and above board. Dirty underhand tricks of politics were repulsive to him.
Partyism didn't count with him. He always voted for the man. You might wonder how he was
permitted to vote, being illiterate. The election laws were different in those days.
If he ever showed any interest In religion--church going religion--I don't remember it.
This does not mean he had no religion at all. His religion was to do good to his fellow man,
especially people who were poor, sick, or unable to help themselves. He went out of his way
to hunt up this class of people. When anyone in the community got sick, he was about the first
one to know about it and to see that they received help. He couldn't just send somebody to
help, but would go himself. And he would keep going to see that they were taken care of.
These were the outstanding traits of his character. These are the characteristics that I want
to bring out and express my gratitude and appreciation for, in my humble way. I know that
there were others who appreciated his generosity and kindness. I've heard them so express it
also, but who like I, feel their inability to do so in this manner.
Mr. Choate was a man of deep convictions, wholehearted in every thing he did. And when he
was convinced that a thing should be done, he was up and at it with vim and vigor. He was about
the most dynamic person I ever saw. The enthusiasm and energy radiating from him was contagious.
And when he started anything, everyone would want to join in and share in it.
Mr. Choate was a very courageous man and had many run-ins with certain types of men, but if
he know he was right, he never backed down one bit. If Mr. Choate ever took the life of a
fellow man, I never heard of it. He was what was called a law-abiding man, and he always
tried to do was right as he know it. And he did every thing he could to build up the country
and make it a fit place to live. If any one came into the community and tried to do otherwise,
he would soon find himself locking horns with Monroe Choate.
This reminds me of another characteristic of Mr. Choate. A man would come to him and ask for
work. If he needed him, and he usually did, Mr. Choate would tell him his salary, which was
about $15 dollars a month, grub, and a saddle horse furnished, and ask him his name. This
would be the only question he would ask him. If he said "Call me Rusty, or Squint, or Buck," or
any other name, than that was the name they called him. It mattered not whether he was a peace
officer or a detective on the trail of a criminal or was a fugitive from justice; as long as he
was a good cowhand, and did his work and behaved himself, Mr. Choate would do nothing to
interfere. In fact, at that time, it was unethical to inquire into a man's past life. To ask
a man what his name was before he came west, was shooting words. There seems to have been a
precedent set here about this time, in this matter, and possibly Mr. Choate helped set it.
And this precedent has been handed down to their offspring. You can go through this country now
and almost pick out their descendants. They are usually cautious about being too inquisitive
about other people's affairs. No doubt Mr. Choate has given asylum to some criminals, or who at
least had violated some law for some reason. But as long as they went straight, he considered
it none of his business, what they had done in the past. But if they began to act in an
undesirable way, Mr. Choate wouldn't hesitate to ask him to move on. This meant to get out of
he country, entirely.
It was 1885 that just about put a stop to the long cattle drives from Karnes County. The
system of marketing beeves was changed. Instead of rounding up big herds and walking them to
northern markets, fattening them up on grass along the way, they were now shipped by rail to
slaughter houses nearer by and there were fattened up on grain and hay, shipped in from
sections where these commodities were grown. This called for a change of breed of cattle.
The longhorns were not good shippers, their horns being in the way, for one thing. And you
couldn't get many in a car. Furthermore they were accustomed to eating field grown food and
didn't fatten out fast enough to make it a paying proposition. The need now was for a type
of shorthorn that would grow and develop quickly and respond to feedlot feeding. That required
several years to accomplish and Mr. Choate was getting too old to launch into it. He began to
clear out fields to raise cotton and corn, and to turn his attention to horses and mules. He
put about 500 or 600 acres in cultivation. This called for a considerable outlay for implements
and equipment. These required repairing. Why he didn't buy blacksmithing tools, and hire a
smith, and do his own repairing, I never could figure out. Most of this work was carried to
Runge to be done. Later, a shop was opened up a few miles up the Hondo by Mr. Harriman, at a
place later called Couch. Repairs were done there, I think, and emergency repairs also.
We moved away from the Choate ranch several years before Mr. Choate died, and I am glad we
did. My last remembrance of him was as a robust and active man. I missed seeing him suffer his
last days. We moved from the ranch to a house beside the road to Runge. The first year or two
we were there, he stopped to visit us several times on the way up and from Runge. The last
time I saw him was on one of these visits and he had to use a walking cane. I noticed he was
weak and unsteady and had difficulty getting into the buggy. Death came to him on August 9,
1899. He is buried in the Runge Cemetery.
With his death, the country lost a great and useful man. And as I stated in the beginning of
this article, few people now know what he did for this country. These few should at least
be grateful enough to perpetuate his memory and try to preserve a record of at least a small
part of the things he did. This is the feeling I had when I undertook this work. But I
know it doesn't do justice to him. I have relied strictly on my memory and no doubt there
are many inaccuracies in it. But I've done the best I could, and here's hoping others will
add their bit to get the story as complete as possible.
THE END
Through the courtesy of Dawn Collins and Charlotte Nichols.
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James Monroe Choate was about three years old when his mother Prudence married Stokley
Choate, her first cousin. We think that his father was Moses Choate, and we think that
Moses and Prudence were not married. There is no record of their marriage.
He moved to Karnes county in 1855, and settled on Hondo Creek, where he lived until his
death on August 9, 1899. We believe that the town of Choate was named for him. He was
buried in the Runge Cemetery, by one account, and in the Choate Cemetery in another account.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Excerpt from an article of J. Frank Dobie in Progressive Farmer Magazine, January 1936 :
'Monroe Choate and J.B. Borroum in 1866 bunched up 1000 big steers in Karnes County.
Borroum took 200 of these steers to New Orleans to sell, to get money to put the remainder on
the northern market . Choate started up the trail with the other 800 head, and Borroum
overtook the outfit near the Kansas line.
Here they were informed by Kansas farmers that Texas cattle could not cross their ground.
'Hell', said Borroum and Choate 'We will drive around their state.'
This they did, completing their drive to Ottumwa, Iowa.
Borroum and Choate were trail-breakers, redeeming Texas from a wilderness. To those
who knew them, they were more representative than singular. They exemplified a class of men
molded in their form.
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From "Historic Sketches of the CATTLE TRADE of the WEST and SOUTHWEST" by Joseph G McCoy,
the Pioneer Western Cattle Shipper. The Rare Book Shop, Washington D.C. 1932 Texas State
Library
Perhaps no more appropriate personal sketch of a genuine Texan ranchman could be presented
than that of J. M. Choate, a Tennesseean by birth, but a Texan of twenty-eight years residence,
is perhaps as true a specimen, both in appearance and manner of life, of the patriarchial
ranchman and drover combined, as could be presented.
His broad, high forehead, open frank countenance, full grown, untrimmed and unshaven
beard, mark him as a genuine frontiersman, one accustomed to untold privations and hardships;
yet one to whom no phase of frontier life has either terror or trials that he would fear to
face or shrink from enduring.
He is a close observer of transpiring events, an unerring reader of human countenances and
character. A man whose sincere aim is to do right with his fellow man, one who suffers in
heart when the people of his State are outraged or are made to endure unusual impositions.
Although upon the shady side of life, yet he is well preserved; hale and robust and as fond
of fun and jollity, a good joke or a laughable story, as are those many years his junior.
Such are briefly the characteristics of J. M. Choate of Helena, Texas, who has spent
the entire time that he has lived in Texas upon a farm and stock ranch. Since the war he has
devoted his time and energies to the live stock business.
He was a drover of '66, and one of those who wended their way into Iowa with their herds,
but he did not admire northern driving, regarding it as too precarious, too uncertain, not to
say dangerous to life and limb. So in '67 and '68 he turned his herds toward New Orleans;
but the following year a better report of the prospect north reached him, and hither he has
annually driven from one to eight thousand head of cattle, and generally sold them upon the
prairie in preference to shipping. There he feels at home and knows just what he is doing.
Mr. Choate owns a ranch of about fifteen hundred acres, upon which, and adjoining outlying
Government lands, he keeps about three thousand cattle and five hundred horses. To his live
stock interest he looks for his money, and when he can sell at home for satisfactory prices
prefers to do so, but when the home buyer fails to come he does not hesitate to outfit one or
more herds and drive them on his own account.
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