Granbury Archives | The Bridge Street History Center

September 11, 2026September 11, 2026

Highlighting the Founders – Amon Bond A Man of Character

Amon Bond family portrait featured in a history article about the Granbury, Texas founder and pioneer

Amon Bond was born in July of 1798 in or near Baltimore, Maryland. His parents, Henry and Elizabeth Bond were both Quakers, and Amon apparently lived by those tenets for his entire life, although there is no record of Amon having actively participated in his faith as a member of a Quaker Meeting in either Tennessee or Texas. His family moved to McMinn County, Tennessee, when he was a young boy. It was there that he became lifelong friends with two other boys who later joined with him in becoming pioneers and community founders in the far away land of Texas — Abel Landers and David G. Nutt.

Amon, Abel, and David G. all appear to have started married life around 1820. They lived as farmers in the same area of Tennessee on lands inherited or purchased from various family members. Amon married first. He tied the knot with Sarah Elizabeth Carter in Blount County, Tennessee, in October of 1818, beginning a union that lasted until her death in what would become Hood County, Texas, in 1860. Their marriage produced fifteen children, many of whom emigrated with them to that frontier region in the early 1850s.

The three young men’s growing up together under the influence of Amon’s Quaker family apparently had a profound impact on some of their moral choices in adulthood. Quakers were almost alone in southern states like Tennessee in staunchly opposing slavery. Amon, Abel and David all grew up opposing it too and all three of them made life choices profoundly affected by that belief. A thorough search of census and probate records shows that neither Amon, nor his parents, ever owned slaves, although they lived in the south and appeared to be landed farmers with operations of a size and means to have done so. This was VERY unusual in that place at that time.

Neither Abel Landers nor David G. Nutt appear to have owned slaves until inheriting a small number each from their fathers upon those gentlemen’s deaths. That divergence appears to have been the reason that Amon kept farming in Tennessee right up to 1850, while Abel and David and their families pulled up stakes around 1840 and moved to Missouri — apparently for the express purpose of being able to free the slaves they had inherited in a place where those people could live as free persons without fear of re-enslavement of either themselves or their family members.

Amon and Sarah and several of their sons appear to have worked together to build a prosperous situation for themselves over the course of thirty years in Tennessee. But like the situation their friends the Nutts and the Landers found themselves in over in Missouri, by around 1850 it was becoming apparent that bad times were coming. The western frontier beckoned, and Amon and a couple of his younger sons began to literally explore the possibilities. As early as 1851-52 they apparently traveled as far as the northern regions of the newly minted state of Texas, and they liked what they saw. Ed Bond applied for and received a land grant that happened to be located on the west banks of a river called El Rio de los Brazos de Dios and on their way to check it out the men stopped to visit with their friends the Nutts and the Landers in Newton County, Missouri.

By 1854, Amon and Sarah, and most of their children and grandchildren, pulled up stakes from Tennessee and became the first white folk to settle on the west banks of the Brazos River north of Barnard’s Trading Post and Mill, near what was known as the Stockton Bend of the river. Their nearest neighbors were Pleasant Thorp and his folk several miles to the west and Pastor Joe Robinson across the river to the southeast at what became Acton but was then known confusingly as Comanche Peak Post Office – it being both across the river and at least four to five miles as the crow flies from that well-known landmark.

In 1856, Amon traveled to Missouri to lead a small group from the Nutt and Landers families to join his group in Texas. His friends Abel and David tied up business concerns in Missouri and brought a large group comprised of most of their extended family members two years later in 1858.

All three men were around sixty years of age by that time — considered advanced in years in those days — and fathers and grandfathers many times over. But they all spent their last decade on this earth building the beginnings of something new. Amon and his two friends ended their lives in a new land, actively participating in founding a community with a vision based on the moral convictions of respect for humanity and love of family that they had lived all their lives.

Amon was not the eldest, nor was he the man many would have said was the leader of their group. But it was his moral compass that had been the touchstone for all of their lives. Of the three, he passed first.

Tradition says he died and was buried in February 1870 next to Sarah, his faithful wife of forty-two years, in a grassy meadow on top of a bluff or hill with a panoramic view of the Brazos River valley and the site planned for the town of Granbury. Many believe their graves, unmarked and unadorned per Quaker tradition, lie somewhere within the oldest section of what is now Granbury Cemetery with its sweeping view of the land they and their friends had come to love.

August 31, 2026

A Granbury Graveyard Mystery : Is Jesse James Buried Here?

Vintage Granbury Cemetery scene with Jesse James portrait and the question, “Is Jesse James Buried Here?”

In 1951 a man died in Granbury who was known to some folks secretly as Jesse James. Publicly, through the years, the man had apparently used various aliases here and elsewhere. Like John St. Helen before him, this man whose life, whoever he may have been, was forever changed by his choices during the Civil War years, found a refuge of a sort here in Hood County. The people who kept his secrets apparently did so as a result of Christian convictions about forgiveness and the belief he was trying to make a fresh start. Here, my historian friend Karen Nace and I teamed up to put the pieces we found together to help us all understand the story and maybe help understand why people believed, and many still believe, that this man was actually Jesse James.

Let’s back up to where and when so many of the stories in our area begin – Missouri, just prior to the Civil War. The James family moved from Tennessee to Missouri before Jesse was born in 1847. His father was a farmer and Baptist minister. He died when Jesse was still a small boy. Jesse’s mother remarried twice. The middle husband was elderly and died. Her third husband was Robert Samuel, and he took over the farm. They had four children who were half-siblings to brothers Frank and Jesse James.

The James-Samuel family did own slaves and were settled in the area of northern Missouri that became known as “little Dixie” because of the strong pro-slavery, pro-secessionist sentiment there. Missouri was a border state, and its overall population was just about evenly split between Unionists and Confederate sympathizers. So much so that although a majority of the state legislature did vote to secede, a formal signing of articles never took place, and the secessionists never actually controlled the state. Few traditional battles were actually fought there, and many Missouri men never signed up to serve in the regular army on either side – but instead signed up for local militia aligned with one side or the other. These groups basically engaged in a bloodbath guerilla war on their home soil throughout the war, punctuated by occasional forays by the Union Army into the state to try to establish martial law and restore order. Jesse’s brother Frank was a member of one such militia which fought on behalf of the Confederacy. Eventually, Frank became known to Union troops in the area.

In 1863, a group of Union soldiers came to the farm looking for Frank. They tortured both Jesse and his stepfather in an attempt to learn Frank’s whereabouts. Reuben Samuel was hung, although not until dead, and fifteen-year-old Jesse’s torture was to have the bottoms of his feet set on fire. The scars and nerve damage from those burns followed him the rest of his life.

At age sixteen Jesse joined Frank and his militia-mates in their subversive activities. Toward the end of the war, unable to catch the brothers, Union troops forced the Samuels to remove themselves from Clay County. They were supposed to head south into Confederate territory but instead crossed the state line into the Nebraska territory, which became their base of operations. Once the war was officially over, many of these disillusioned, angry young men from the militias became the so-called outlaws of the “wild west” era. For the next decade and a half, the James-Younger gang robbed banks and trains and became notorious across the nation because of sensationalized accounts of their crimes in newspapers – the social media of the day.

In 1879, the James gang robbed two stores in far west Mississippi. The gang absconded with $2,000 cash in the second robbery and took shelter in abandoned cabins on the Kemp Plantation. A posse attacked and killed two of the outlaws but failed to capture the entire gang. By 1881 the brothers returned to Missouri, where they felt safer. James moved his family to St. Joseph, Missouri, in November 1881, not far from where he had been born and reared. Frank, however, decided to move to safer territory and headed east to settle in Virginia. They intended to give up crime. The James gang had been reduced to just the two of them.

With his gang nearly annihilated, James trusted only the Ford brothers, Charley and Robert. Although Charley had been out on raids with James, Bob Ford was an eager new recruit. Or so Jesse thought. But by that time, Bob Ford had secretly negotiated with Missouri Governor Thomas T. Crittenden to bring in the famous outlaw. Crittenden had made capture of the James brothers his top priority but was barred by law from offering a large reward. Secretly he had turned to the railroad and express corporations to put up a $5,000 bounty for the delivery of each of them and an additional $5,000 for the conviction of either of them.

On April 3, 1882, after eating breakfast, the Fords and Jesse went into the living room before traveling to Platte City for a robbery. From the newspaper, James had just learned that gang member Dick Liddil had confessed to participating in a murder. He was suspicious that the Fords had not told him about it. Robert Ford later said he believed that James had realized they were there to betray him. Instead of confronting them, James walked across the living room and laid his revolvers on a sofa. He turned around and noticed a dusty picture above the mantle and stood on a chair to clean it. Robert Ford drew his weapon and shot the unarmed Jesse James in the back of the head. The result was such that James’s two previous bullet wounds and partially missing middle finger served to positively identify the body.

The death of Jesse James became a national sensation. The Fords made no attempt to hide their role. Robert Ford wired the governor to claim his reward. Crowds pressed into the little house in St. Joseph to see the dead bandit. The Ford brothers surrendered to the authorities and were dismayed to be charged with first-degree murder. The governor’s quick pardon suggested he knew the brothers intended to kill James rather than capture him. The implication that the chief executive of Missouri conspired to kill a private citizen startled the public and added to James’s notoriety.

James’s original grave was on his family property, but he was later moved to a cemetery in Kearney. The original footstone is still there, although the family has replaced the headstone. James’s mother, Zerelda Samuel, wrote the following epitaph for him: “In Loving Memory of my Beloved Son, Murdered by a Traitor and Coward Whose Name is not Worthy to Appear Here.” James’ widow and cousin, Zerelda Mimms James, died alone and in poverty.

It appears at that time no one came forward and disclaimed the killing; however, since then there have been some complications. In recent years, the Missouri burial was uncovered and DNA testing was preformed, but the results were inconclusive! So, is that Jesse or was it not his relative that was tested? We may never know, but it adds to the possibility that the real Jesse is in the Granbury Cemetery.

According to Sam Rash, a Granbury resident whose land was impacted by the coming of the railroad “dump” or lake, he first met the former outlaw as one of the workers on the building of the new railroad line in the mid-1880s. The two men became friends. After a time, the man revealed his true identity to Sam and his family, and because they believed his intent to live a reformed life, they kept his secret. Rash’s daughter, Golda, grew up knowing this man, who was a guest in the Rash home from time to time. Later, after she was married and had children, they also knew him. Her son, David Burks, was quoted as believing the man he knew to be Jesse James.

Golda married William Henry Holland in 1911, a Granbury man who had lost his arm as a child. Proof of that is that the arm is buried in the Holland plot in the Granbury Cemetery, “amputated Nov. 16, 1895.” Holland would have been thirteen at that time. Holland died relatively young, in 1927. Golda buried him in her father’s plot, but times were hard and no headstone was placed there. In 1928 she married William Henry Burks and moved to Texas City, and had a son, David. There are accounts from old-timers who remember Sam Rash’s friend who used to work for the railroad visiting him from time to time. According to contemporary accounts, Golda’s son David also got to know him, and even knew his “real” name. Over the years they kept in touch. Eventually, in 1951, Golda heard again from her father’s old friend, now a very elderly and frail gentleman who is about to be released from a hospital there after having a broken hip. According to the newspapers at that time, (1951) Golda made travel arrangements, and went to accompany James as he came by train to Granbury. She had Ben Estes, a local mortician who owned an ambulance, transport him from the depot to her father’s house to recover. She arranged for James to be cared for there, as the house was not in use. (Both her parents had passed away in the 1940’s.)

Hood County sheriff Oran Baker, a good friend of Rash’s, apparently knew of the man’s existence and identity, but had never met him. He went to visit the day of his arrival, and the two struck up an immediate comradery. For the next nine days Oran Baker went daily to visit. Listening avidly to the old man tell tales that later proved to match what is known of Jesse James life and all the years since. Also, during this time the old man shared with both Golda and Baker his desire to be buried in Granbury. He told them that there was a woman that he had known here years ago, who was the finest woman he had ever known. Because of her, he wanted to be buried here. He never mentioned her name. – Another mystery!

Alas, their friendship was short-lived. Ten days later the old man died of natural causes – extreme old age. While alive, James is said to have given some unique gifts to individuals in Granbury. Oran Baker received a pair of silver spurs from the man he believed to be Jesse James, eventually giving them to his son, Boots.

On August 17, 1951, a day after his death, the body of this man, who was believed by some to be Jesse Woodson James, was the subject of a postmortem exam. Those present were Oran Baker, Sheriff; Harley Cherry, local druggist, representing Estes Funeral Home; Mack Tidwell; Joe L Deering; Dewitt Travis; and Lee Howk. Baker, Cherry, Tidwell, and Deering signed the affidavit swearing under oath that the following wounds existed on the body:

“Bullet wound through left shoulder; bullet wound through left side of belly; evidence of rope burns on neck; bullet wound on right side of neck; bullet wound between shoulders at base of neck; bullet wound along hairline above both eyes; bullet wound under right eye, causing right eye to droop slightly; small scar under right eyelid, perhaps due to removal of mole; scar of some undetermined kind of the lower lip; powder burns across chin hidden by Buffalo Bill type goatee; two bullet wounds on right shoulder; three of four bullet wounds indicated above elbow on left arm; three or four bullet wounds along left arm from wrist to elbow; tip end of left index finger sort of “chewed off”; two bullet wounds in right chest near nipple; bullet wound along right side near second lower right rib; evidence of several bullet wounds up and down right arm, probably 8 to 10 wounds; both feet showing evidence of having been severely burned, scars on both knees; a tattoo on inner side of right forearm “Tex. Y’s”; bad wound on back between hips.” This document was notarized and filed of record August 28, 1951. Jesse would have been one month shy of 104.

The most curious injury could be the burns on his feet. This is consistent with the torture Jesse experienced at the hands of Union soldiers almost eighty-six years before. Also, it is worth noting that those same burns were NOT a part of the detailed reports describing the body of the man killed by Rob Ford in St. Joseph.

When Jesse died, Golda buried him without a headstone in her father’s plot. It is said that 2 nieces of Jesse finally put a headstone in the cemetery in the 1982, when they also corrected details on the original death certificate. After over 30 years, the location of the exact grave was probably questionable with no head stone for either Holland or James. Indeed, they may not have even known about the Holland burial that had taken place previously. In 2000 when there was an attempt to dig up “our” Jesse James for DNA testing, it is assumed no one realized Holland was buried so close to James or even that he was there at all. When the gravesite was opened, apparently they found a concrete vault and spied a wooden coffin nearby. Since the vault was under the headstone, that was removed and opened, only to find a one-armed man. At that point, it seems the quest was abandoned, and to date has not been re-tried.

What does all this prove? Perhaps some legends should remain just that. There are those who firmly believe Jesse James is here, others who believe him to be in Missouri, and some who believe the jury is still out. These are the pieces we have, there are a few more that might add weight, and others that might not. Let the legend live on!

Jessee James and Hood County Sheriff Oran Baker

July 25, 2026

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Article: Lessons from the Greatest Generation in Hood County

Historic Cresson School with vintage family photographs illustrating a World War II era story from Hood County, Texas.

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO MY ARTICLE – A Tale Worth Telling

By Melinda Jo Ray

I just found this article written about fifteen years ago- floating around in my computer. I took a look, and since I wrote it for a relatively small audience back when, I thought it would be fun to share it with this group. Enjoy!

At the time this was written, I had the enormous pleasure of visiting with some friends of mine. I met them even MORE years ago when we were all singing in the same church choir here in Granbury. Phil and Dixie were a good deal older than I, members – like my parents and grandparents – of that stalwart group of folks referred to now as “The Greatest Generation”. At the time of the interview, I was working on an article on Memorial Day for the newsletter of a local group. Because Phil was a veteran of World War II, he was high on my list of folks I might talk to. But as I visited with my two friends, I kept hearing echoes of other stories told me by my mother and other friends of that age, and that little voice inside that speaks sometimes let me know that there was something bigger here than “just” a typical back in the day article.

Phil and Dixie and others of their era tell us through their stories and the examples set by their lives tales we would do well to listen to. Other cultures, throughout the world and throughout history, have often taught the young to revere the oldest, most experienced members of society. Their words are sought after and listened to and honored. Somehow, in America, we have often forgotten the value of that idea, and that is sad. – Because these folks have things to share that we need to hear.

When I first called to see if we could visit, I was a little apprehensive. I hadn’t seen these folks in a while, and Phil, especially, at age 93, is getting on in years. I wondered – would he feel like talking to me, would his memory be good, would he even want to share his story? Boy was I in for a surprise! I only hope that I am halfway as much of a go-getter NOW as Phil was at 93! What a joy to interview! He and Dixie both were full of details and enthusiasm and ideas! And after 2 cups of coffee and over an hour of great conversation, they escorted me to the back side of their property, a couple of hundred yards away, and showed me Phil’s workshop/garage, where he still worked almost daily on his FIVE antique cars! (That’s a whole other article!!)

But – back to the subject at hand – the World War II era. Throughout the years of the 1930’s, while America was mired in the worst economic depression ever known, the fires of war were being kindled in places all around the globe. By 1940 it was obvious what was coming. In 1941, a call was issued by the American Legion for all local outposts (over 10,000 of them) to ask for a registration of local World War (I) veterans. Most of these men were beyond the age of active combat service. But they were asked to sign up, giving their name, age, and areas of experience and expertise. It would be them who answered the call to teach and train quickly a new generation of warriors to once again fight for freedom and who would remain on the front lines at home as members of local Civil Defense units. The notice to Hood County Legionnaires was issued in the local newspaper on February 20, 1941. Less than a year later those former soldiers from all across the country found themselves on the job, teaching new, raw recruits.

Phil was one of those new recruits. He was an Agriculture major at Rutgers University when war was declared after Pearl Harbor was attacked in December of 1941. He and most of his friends went together to sign up for the Army Air Corps. Their motivation was a mixture of patriotism and pragmatism. They wanted to serve but also knew that if they volunteered, they could pick what branch of the military they were assigned to, whereas draftees had to go into whichever branch they were told to. “In those days, we all wanted to be pilots,” said Phil. “That was the glamour job, so that’s what we all signed up for. But of course we couldn’t ALL be pilots in the end. But we all got to fly. See, nowadays, with our computerized fighter planes, you’ve got one man – one plane and a computer. But back then… flying was a cooperative effort. It took nine men to fly a B29!” He went on to describe the teamwork and skills needed to fly just one aircraft… and my mind boggled.

This was a different world. One that lasted well into my lifetime – when scientists and pilots and engineers of that same generation sent men to the moon, using pencils and paper and slide rules, and humongous computers dumber than the most primitive cell phone. Phil described the cross-training among the five officers who made up the flight crew and the four enlisted men who manned the guns on what was then the most sophisticated aircraft ever built. All of the flight crew had some training as pilots. All the pilots and the navigator had some training on the mechanics of the plane that were monitored by the flight engineers, and they all had to know something about navigation using only landmarks and a compass by day and a sextant and the stars at night. Phil’s specialty became navigation. These young men, often with less than two months of training in the beginning, flew aircraft all over the world, across vast oceans, in all kinds of weather conditions, with navigators using only the centuries old practice of measurements off of three stars or points of land, and time flown. To be a navigator required knowledge of mathematics, geometry, astronomy, geography, and the ability to do mental calculations with lighting speed and accuracy, often while being shot at and or tossed about in a violent thunderstorm. Pilots flew planes with few if any automated features. A steady hand, a keen eye, and the ability to think and act quickly in 3 dimensions were everyday requirements. The flight engineers kept all systems operational using only the simplest of gauges and line of sight observation, and all had to ready to take over the others’ positions at a moment’s notice. The gunners had their marksmanship tested moment by moment, as they used only human eyesight and reflexes to aim and fire a variety of weapons from one bouncing moving platform at other bouncing moving platforms!

The young men in each of those planes formed a bond of trust and teamwork with each other that transcended military rank and civilian background. Their first job was to look out for each other- they were- each of them, by necessity, their brothers’ keeper! They were also their mother’s sons, their fathers’ heirs, their wives’ and girlfriends’ beloveds, and their children’s fathers. Thus, the determination to support their efforts and each other became a way of life among the civilians back home.

At this point in the conversation Phil and Dixie and I diverted from the military focus for a time and regaled each other with stories about the home front. They told of years of rationing and shortages and moving from place to place as Phil’s base of operations changed. And that brought into focus tales from my own family about the war years right here in Hood County, how every element of the community was focused on the cooperative effort to support the war effort and look after each other here at home.

Times were hard, and the sacrifices asked of the home front population were huge! We marveled as we recalled what they had experienced, and I had heard about the spirit of cooperation in those days. I remembered my mother talking of those childhood years and saying, “Even us kids knew that it was us or them. We knew that if our country was going to survive, we had to all work together. We didn’t worry about who was rich and who was poor, or what church people went to, or whatever. We were all in this together, and we had to help our country and support our troops, or Evil would win, and it would be a horrible thing.” When I repeated this to Phil and Dixie, they agreed emphatically, and said that was absolutely the way most everyone felt, for four long years of war, and beyond.

Civilian sacrifices were demanded that seem impossible today. Rationing was implemented on almost all products. It wasn’t voluntary; it was required by the federal government for the good of the nation. Can we even imagine the outcry over such a program today? Butter, sugar, coffee, shoes, tires, gas, cars, and nylon hose- all these and countless other items were on the list. Ration books were issued monthly to every adult citizen. People who needed a new car could sign up for a car lottery at the beginning of the year in the county where they lived. One year in Hood County the local car dealers were told they could sell 100 cars. Over 400 people signed up for the lottery. Names were drawn and winning tickets given out. The other 300 people had to try again next year.

Once a person’s ration tickets were used for a particular item, it was illegal for that person to be sold any more of that product until the next month’s booklet was issued. But neighbors helped each other. My grandparents’ garage, next to their house in Cresson, burned in December of 1942 – literally days after they moved here from Kansas. The local people from the Cresson area turned out in the middle of the night to help put out the blaze. They contained and put out the fire and saved the house, but the detached garage was a total loss. My grandparents’ only car and my grandfather’s work boots were lost in the fire. My grandmother had just used their shoe ration tickets for school shoes for my mother and her sister. The morning after the fire was a Sunday. When they opened their door to leave to walk to church, they found an envelope tacked to the door. In the envelope was a winning car lottery ticket and ration tickets for a pair of work boots. Upon their arrival at community church in Cresson, where they learned all denominations attended with a different preacher each Sunday, my grandfather began to ask around, saying he wanted to find the benefactor and make arrangements to pay off the debt owed over time. My nine-year-old mother was standing next to him and always remembered George Glasscock’s answer. “Now, Mr. Bole, don’t you worry about that. Here in Hood County, we take care of our own.” She always said, no matter where she lived in her life after that, she always thought of Hood County as Home.

The memories of those years stayed with that generation for a lifetime. Newspapers of the day were filled with reports of War Bond Drives, and Collections for the Army Widows and Orphans fund. Young and old alike are exhorted to bring their scrap metal and old tires to be recycled for the war effort. Forty years later, my mother still had the habit of saving used aluminum foil and foil gum wrappers in a big ball to be recycled. Efforts to raise dollars and materials were turned into community projects and get-togethers. Housewives left their homes to work in factories and munitions plants, and men with specific skills remained home as civilian workers in essential industries like oil and gas, agriculture, and structural engineering for the river authorities.

When the was over a very long four years later, a weary yet grateful nation buried its dead, gave thanks for survival, and welcomed its troops home. But war has a price and an aftermath, and once again my visit with Phil and Dixie had a surprise in store. What, Phil asked me, do you think happens to all the stuff-the ships, the planes, the tanks, the jeeps, and the weapons – when the war is over? There was a moment of silence, then another. “Well,” I said, “I guess I don’t know. I never really thought about that part of it.” He nodded. “Most people don’t!” And so he began the part of the World War II story I had never heard before- the story of the Sunset Project.

After the war was over, on all islands all across the Pacific, and all those countries all over Europe, there were planes, and tanks, and jeeps, and weapons- many of them older outdated models that had seen less and less use as technology progressed during the war. Also, there were scores and scores of them- many more than would ever be needed during peacetime. Well, we couldn’t just walk away and leave them to clutter up the world. Also, some held technology with secrets that still needed to be kept. So, before letting all its manpower go, the U.S. military had one more HUGE job to do- to gather up all that material, and bring it home- either to be reused, recycled, or destroyed. The operation to do that was known as The Sunset Project and it lasted for almost five years. Phil’s final years of military service were spent bringing B29 bombers – the workhorse planes of the early war in the Pacific, home to the U.S. to be burned by the hundreds on airbases across the western United States. The columns of smoke of the Sunset Project marked the end of a remarkable era in American history.

Phil and Dixie and I all agreed that all war and its causes were terrible things indeed, and we talked about the fallacy of romanticizing or glamourizing those times. But we also spoke of the lessons to be learned, not about global politics or international affairs, but about teamwork, can-do optimism, the value of and willingness to do hard work, the importance of community and looking out for one another, and the drawing together and unification of a nation. Those are lessons worth talking about and if you’re lucky enough to have a member of that generation still alive in your family and able to share their memories that greatest generation still living them – right here in Granbury and Hood County. If you are lucky enough to know any of them, seek them out and make time to hear their stories. Who knows? Their tales might spark an idea or two about how to navigate the challenges of our own era. – I know this one does, even a decade and a half after the telling! Thanks, Phil and Dixie, for sharing your story!

July 11, 2026July 13, 2026

Hood County‘s First County Judge : Abel W. Landers

Portrait of Abel W. Landers, Hood County's first county judge and one of the founders of Granbury, Texas.

Editor’s Note: Abel W. Landers is often remembered simply as Hood County’s first county judge. Yet his influence reached far beyond the courtroom. Drawing upon years of research, this article explores the remarkable life of a pioneer whose leadership helped shape the founding of Granbury and the future of Hood County.

I want to tell you about Abel W. Landers. I mean, I really, really do. For me, it’s almost personal. Twenty years ago, when I set out to write a novel about the Nutt brothers and the beginnings of Granbury, I had in my mind this older uncle, who was getting on in years, who came with them Texas and kind of hung around like some honorary grandfather on the periphery of events. Then, I read an article by one of his descendants and amended that to cantankerous honorary grandfather. Then I read T. H. Ewells “account” and amended it to ornery, eccentric and cantankerous…but still basically a “minor” character. Then, I got into serious research about the background and span of this man’s life, and he reached across and through the mists of time and grabbed me by the collar, got in my face, and said “Missy, I may be a lot of things, and you can be right up front about all of’em. But I am not, nor will I ever be ‘a MINOR character’!”

Twenty plus years, five books, and hundreds of hours of research later I am absolutely convinced that the people of Granbury and Hood County owe more of who we have been and who we are to this one man than to any other single human who ever walked the tops of these limestone bluffs or gazed across the majesty of valley of the “River of the Arms of God.” Abel Landers got that eccentric, cantankerous caricature label from a single paragraph mention in T. H. Ewell’s 1895 History of Hood County. Writing twenty plus years after Landers’ death, Ewell basically dismisses Landers’ almost twenty years of leadership during the formation of the community that became Granbury, and portrays his tenure as our first county judge as that of a legal hack. One has to wonder what axe Ewell had to grind – or if he even bothered to research the background and actual history of this man whose career and contributions he made such light of for the sake of an entertaining story.

This is not to say that Abel Landers was of docile character, or that he didn’t have a forceful personality, or even that he was above pushing hard and engaging in political hard ball in pursuing a course he believed to be right. But he was an honorable man, an educated and astute man, and was well-thought-of by those who truly knew him, and also- surprisingly- by those who only knew him by reputation. So how did this happen? And who was Abel Landers, really? What can we know about someone who lived so long ago, from what records remain of the sum of his life? I’ve read those records, everything I can find. My journey has taken me from Kentucky and Tennessee westward to Missouri and finally onward here to Texas. And what I have found is the story of a man of remarkable character, who still – across all these years – comes to us as a REAL human being.

Abel Landers was born in 1796 in Warren County, Kentucky, where his father Christopher had received a land grant. Both of his parents were descended from very successful, landed colonial families, his father from a Norman British family whose name was originally spelled Landis, and his mother Phoebe from the famed Lee’s of Virginia. His parents had met and married in North Carolina, in 1793 and moved to Kentucky sometime prior to his birth. Born only 4 years after their marriage, he was nonetheless their third child, being proceeded by two older brothers. Sometime after the turn of the century, Abel’s father acquired by grant a larger amount of land in Bedford County, Tennessee, and the family moved there to what would be his parent’s permanent home. It was there that destiny began its work. Young Abel met and forged friendships with two other boys there, David G. Nutt – another son of a family with deep North Carolina roots, and Amon Bond – son of a young Quaker couple from Baltimore, Maryland. These three lads were of an age, all born within eighteen months of each other, and all of their fathers owned and farmed the land. They all grew up with a growing appreciation of the prosperity that the land, properly nurtured could bring. They watched and listened as young teens to the men around them plan and dream as they built the nearby county seat town of Shelbyville – the place that became one of the first in the new nation to build a prosperous business district on a plan that became known as “the Shelbyville model” – a central town square with the courthouse and seat of government at the center, surrounded on four sides by a block of retail and service businesses facing inward, surrounded by blocks of residences, parks, churches, and schools – the model that became the blueprint for a nation.

These three young men listened well, and observed much, including the differences between their families. While they shared much in common, one large difference was the Quaker faith practiced by Amon Bond’s family. While all three sprung from devout, church-going folk, the Quakers stood out in that Tennessee of so long ago, not just in their language and their dress, but in another very important way- they didn’t believe in slavery. And the records show that example apparently spoke not only to the conscience of young Amon Bond, but to his friends Abel Landers and David Nutt as well. Upon reaching adulthood, the three young men worked as laborers for their fathers, apparently earning a stake- a startup of land for themselves. Each one shows no record at any point in their lives, from that beginning forward, of ever owning slaves for labor.

Amon shows no record of ever owning slaves in his lifetime. Abel and David both inherited a small number of slaves from their fathers as part of their inheritance. Both were young married men at the time, with land and families. Abel had apparently also done some study of the law, and had begun to do some legal work, mostly for family members, dealing with estate matters. But he was keenly aware of the legal ramifications of his and David’s situations. It would do no good for them to free their slaves in Tennessee, since Tennessee law did not recognize emancipation. Even a former slave with signed and witnessed emancipation papers could be picked up at will by anyone and declared property by that person. Also, it was illegal for slaves in Tennessee to be taught to read, write or cypher. To release the people in their care under those circumstances would be tantamount a sentence of death, or imprisonment, or both.

Correspondence with his wife Sally’s Shipman relations in the new state of Missouri provided Abel and his now brother-in-law David Nutt the answer they needed. Emancipation was legal and honored by the law in Missouri. Quietly, Abel saw to it that the slave families he and David had inherited (plus another orphaned black child he purchased apparently on impulse to keep her from being sold into a lifetime of captivity) were educated and taught job skills to equip them for freedom. In 1837 emancipation papers were signed and the two men sold their land, gathered their families and worldly goods, and struck out via covered wagon almost 500 miles across the Ozark mountains to the newly forming settlement of Neosho Missouri. Their newly freed slaves traveled there as well. Abel gave each of them, his and David’s slaves alike, $35 (a sizable sum back then) in start-up money. Both white and black members of the party purchased land and set up farms in the area, worked by all of them and several of their now grown or teen-aged sons and daughters.

Abel also began doing legal work, and soon became active in community affairs. In the latter, it is apparent that he quickly brought insights and information from his Shelbyville observations that impressed his fellow citizens. In 1838, his new hometown of Neosho, situated on Hickory Creek, was named county seat of the new county of Newton, and Abel’s input was apparently valued. In 1839, he was appointed to the independent commission that selected the site for and made the initial plans for the county seat of the newly forming Barry County, Missouri. The city of Carthage was established on the banks of the Spring River in the new Barry County, and remains the county seat today. In 1841, another county, Jasper, was forming, and once again Abel Landers was chosen as one of the commissioners who would choose a site and do the initial planning. The town of Cassville was placed on the banks of a small spring fed creek known as the Roaring River whose origins have only recently been traced to deep within an Ozark mountain cave system, miles away.

In addition to serving on these planning commissions, Abel also served during these early Missouri years as a tax assessor and Justice of the Peace. Then in 1842 he ran for state office and won. He was elected to three terms as a member of the Missouri State House of Representatives and served one term in the Missouri State Senate. In a total of 8 years out of the next ten he worked as a moderate in the Missouri Legislature. A supporter of an end to the expansion of slavery and a gradual end to slavery nationwide, he worked with Senator Benton and others to rally support to that end, often treading a fine line with some of the slaveholders in his home district. Seeing the tide turning toward war with the passing by Congress of the Missouri compromise in 1854, he chose not to seek another term in the Missouri Senate.

About this time, Amon Bond and his family, also seeing the tides of war rising, decided to head for the frontier lands of far-removed Texas. Amon invited his old friends to join the adventure. There was land for the taking, and Amon’s son Ed had already procured a start, a grant on the west bank of a river known as “El Rio de los Brazos de Dios” – The River of the Arms of God. The free land beckoned, and the fact that Abel knew of a certainty of Texas governor Sam Houston’s staunch opposition to secession gave hope of a war to be avoided. Over the next few years the majority of the Nutt and Landers family members came to agree that removal to Texas was the right thing to do. A quick mass exodus was delayed by illnesses, tragedies, marriages, births, and business concerns. But in the spring of 1856 Amon came back to Neosho to lead the first small group to Texas. Abel’s relative Logan Landers and his family, Abel’s daughter Elizabeth and her husband, Jesse Nutt- one of the blind brothers, and Abel’s middle son Henry went with this small group. Their plan – to get land claimed and cabins built for a much larger party to follow in a couple of years.

The advance party arrived in Texas and wrote back to Abel with glowing reports. But he was getting on in years and his wife, Sally was in fragile health. The unsettled times made the selling off of property a challenge for both him and David. But finally, in the spring of 1858, a long line of wagons rolled through the Neosho square. The Landers and Nutts and many kinfolk and friends were pulling up stakes one last time and were “gone to Texas”! Upon arrival, Abel, Amon, and Jesse Nutt quickly became leaders of the fledgling little community on the banks of the Brazos, known as Stockton Bend.

The first years were incredibly hard. The hardships of the frontier proved too much for Abel’s beloved Sally, who died in January 1859. 18 months later secession and war came in deadly earnest. The Confederacy instituted the first military draft ever invoked on American soil, and most of the young men, except for the blind Jesse and Jacob Nutt were caught up in it. All told, Amon, Abel, and David sent nine sons off to fight in a war for a cause they didn’t support. Only five of those sons came home.

During the war, Abel Landers worked tirelessly with Johnson county officials to be sure that war widows and orphans in the western areas of the county received the assistance they needed. Beginning with the hotly contested elections in 1860, he led local efforts to ensure universal voter registration of all eligible voters and free and open access to the polls for same. He had a reputation for finding common sense solutions to sticky problems and was already looking forward to the coming end of the conflict, when he knew that population increases, and distance would probably lead to the formation of a new western county. At an age when most men, including his friends David and Amon were content to retire and leave the hard work of governing to the younger generation, Abel brought a depth of experience and expertise to “growing a new place” that was badly needed during those early years, when so many of the young and middle-aged men had been lost too soon. To illustrate – the sparsely populated Johnson county had sent over 600 men off to war. Almost 300 of those men did not return.

The post-war shenanigans involved in the formation of Hood county are described in several local history books. Nowhere were the political maneuverings of various factions more complex than those regarding location of the county seat. Citing his experience and reputation for honorable and moderate politics, Abel – a local man – was elected county judge and head official in the new county in 1866 and this was approved by the reconstruction government. That approval was not always readily given in those times and the people of Hood county knew it and breathed a sigh of relief. But there were no less than five locations vying to be the site of the new county seat. Even today, resentments and might have beens pop up in conversation. There was and is talk that Abel blocked due process, and refused to validate elections etc. The pure unvarnished truth when one looks at the situation objectively is this – First, this was not Abel’s first rodeo, it was his fourth – fifth if you count his original observations in Shelbyville. He knew better than anyone the requirements, both by law and logistics, for a new county seat.

The contenders were Glen Rose Mills, Acton, Thorp Spring, Lambert Branch, and a foothill at the base of Comanche Peak known as “the Center” (as it was literally the geographic center of the county). State law required only two things, that the county seat be named Granbury, and that it be located within 6 miles of the geographic center of the county. Two of the contenders, the two oldest settlements- Acton and Glen Rose did not fall into that 6-mile requirement. Other logistical requirements included an adequate and readily available and easily defended water source, and adequate space for expansion over decades. The “Center” was too far from the river for it to be a viable water source, and todays residents of the area can testify to the inadequacies of its ground water situation. That brought realistic consideration down to Thorp Spring and Lambert Branch.

At this point Thorp Spring had the larger population and a town already started. Lambert Branch had more open land and was located admittedly on Nutt, Landers and Bond family land holdings. But this writer believes that there were other factors that Abel’s experienced eye could see. One was that Lambert Branch would be a fresh start, and an open community. The other was its location on the high point above the river with a ferry crossing and potential bridge location at each end. When election failed to resolve the issue in a manner he felt was satisfactory (they kept choosing the Center (that hill where Lakeside Baptist Church stands today), with its inadequate water situation. Abel did the same thing his predecessors in Missouri had done – he persuaded the county commissioners to appoint an independent commission of men from outside the county and those gentlemen looked at all the factors and chose Lambert Branch. And the rest as they say, is history.

Abel was also instrumental in guiding the young county and its property owners through the beginnings of an almost twenty-year long legal battle with Milam County over ownership of School Lands located in Hood County. Abel was instrumental in retaining the respected and highly qualified A. J. Hood of Parker County as legal counsel for both individual defendants and the county in the matter. In the years from 1868 to 1872, his personal dialogue with Representative William Henry Sinclair, who became Speaker of the Texas House in 1871, obtained much needed State intervention in the matter to provide, at least for a time, the stability the new county needed to grow.

Abel was now past 70 years old, a long life in those times. Although he resigned as judge in mid-1869 in protest over a disqualification of duly elected commissioners by the Reconstruction Government, in his final years he oversaw the layout of the plats and lots, working with men he had raised up to understand and share his vision. Prior to his death in May, 1873 he witnessed the beginnings- those first wooden buildings going up, that first stone courthouse being built, all on lots in a quadrangle atop bluffs of limestone, overlooking the River of the Arms of the God he loved so well – his final gift and legacy to us and to the ages – our town, Granbury, on the Brazos.

“The towns that Abel built….”

Carthage, Barry County, Missouri

Cassville, Jasper County, Missouri

Neosho, Newton County, Missouri

Granbury, Hood County, Texas

Until next week,

Melinda Ray

July 3, 2026July 3, 2026

Festival Parades from Days Gone By: Granbury’s Texas Independence Day & San Jacinto Celebrations (1923–1924)

Historic collage of Granbury's 1923 Texas Independence Day and 1924 San Jacinto Day festival parades featuring schoolchildren, horse-drawn wagons, period costumes, and community celebrations around the Granbury Square.

Featuring Photos From:
Texas Independence Day 1923 and San Jacinto Day 1924

Well folks, if you didn’t know it already, let me share something with you! GRANBURY HAS ALWAYS KNOWN HOW TO THROW A PARADE!!! As we gather for the year’s July 4^th Parade and festivities around the Granbury, it seems a good time to share these photos I collected of past festivities during my years of research and working with the good folks at the old Hood County Jail Museum. Join me in visualizing a couple of Granbury Festivals of years gone by! We’ll have a blast! Like most of our festivals today, these were duly reported in the local newspapers and the folks who were in charge took lots of pictures! So, come with me, as we go down to the Square to wander around 1923 and 1924 to catch some glimpse of the celebrations on TEXAS INDEPENDENCE DAY and SAN JACINTO DAY!

On both March 2, 1923, and April 21, 1924 – It is a fine spring day on one of the state public holiday when we celebrate Texas winning her War for Independence from Mexico! As always in Granbury, the parade is set to come right down Pearl Street from the school to the square, make that turn up Crockett, and then left on Bridge right back down to the schoolhouse! We’ve got the perfect seats right here in front of the Nutt Hotel! Uncle Henry Nutt and his wife, Aunt Euna, have made us welcome, as citizens from all over Hood County crowd the limestone sidewalks! Many are jostling to get a good view of their children and classmates!

All of the schools in Hood County have signed up to participate in the parade! Assisted by their teachers and the ladies of the Granbury Parent Teacher Organization, the children have constructed an extravaganza to honor 100 years of Texas History! This Pageant of Texas is designed to give the children and all of us a greater appreciation of the wonderful history of our state! If you look at your program you will see the names of the various children and adults involved in each part of the celebration.

“Oh, look here they come now!!!” The parade is led by three pupils portraying OLD MAN TEXAS, accompanied by the ladies PROSPERITY and OPTIMISM! And following them are the six wonderful floats! Oh, look, all the children are in costumes and so are the adults, all depicting a special part of Texas history. At each school, all the students helped with researching the proper costumes and the details that needed to be shown on each float! Oh, my goodness, there is Frank Gaston, that fellow who owns the Granbury News!! Let’s look over his shoulder and see what he has to say about this scene!

“Our teachers, pupils, and the ladies of the Parent-Teacher Association have reason to feel proud of the success of the historical pageant… celebrating San Jacinto Day. We are glad to say the program was carried out exactly as advertised and in every feature was far better than the public expected! In six episodes of Texas history the costuming was historically correct, older people in the audience recognizing the true representations of costumes and manner of life in some of the episodes, especially those of the Confederacy. In this latter was a unique feature, the slave section being represented by Barney Hightower and Aunt Judy Anderson, two ex-slaves, with a number of children from the negro school, in an old-fashioned wagon and riding on a bale of cotton.

Other features were also specially attractive, and none more so than the pioneers, with the old moving wagon, even with the cow being led behind, the young ladies representing the red, white and blue, those representing the colonies and the states of the union, the boy scouts, the future citizens, and especially the little tots representing the Texas state flower, ‘The Blue Bonnet’. The individual characters listed in the program were also well represented in their costumes and actions. The parade consumed nearly an hour, being well timed so as to give the best effect, and upon returning to the school building there was a program of splendid talks, with some music and readings, all in harmony with the great historical occasion. To carry out such a program required much study of detail and all connected therewith have reason to feel a just pride in its universally pronounced success!”

PRESENT DAY — Wow, that just about says it all! It was so much fun seeing all the pictures of the children and adults involved! So many of the children became leaders in our community in the years to come. But, the truly remarkable thing about this moment in Granbury history is the shining example of its inclusiveness. In a day when segregation, Jim Crow, and the KKK were tearing nearby communities apart, in Granbury the people, young and old alike, of all colors, joined together for a day-long celebration of our common history.

The newspaper account goes on to tell in detail about the program and how ALL of the people gathered to share a meal and see the program put on by students from ALL of the schools! A point was made to show the spirit of community and fun shared by all, with anecdotes of highlights of contributions from every part of the county! The mere fact, preserved in print, of this celebration reminds us of just what a remarkable community Granbury/Hood County has always been! “Where Texas History Lives” is our motto and, when we look to our past, we are blessed to have the example set by the folks from “around here” back in those days. It’s so remarkable that they were already celebrating that history, even in those bygone days of just over 100 years ago! The tradition lives on!

Collage Caption: A collage of pictures showing some of the time period groups from each year. Featured here are: Indian Era – 1924, Texas War for Independence – 1923, Pioneers 1923, Slavery – 1923, Civil War -1924, Citizens of the Future – Boys and Girls – 1924

June 8, 2026June 16, 2026

THE NEWSPAPERS OF OLD: News, Social Media, and Your Neighbors’ Blog – Wild West Style

Historic Granbury newspaper illustrating how early newspapers served as the social media and community blogs of Hood County's past.

My mother used to say, quite wisely, that there are no new sins. And in the same vein… that people are just people, the same as they’ve always been. As a student of history, I basically agree. In my study of the contrasts between our fast-paced modern world and the slower-paced world of the past, the assumption has often been put forth that the 24-hour blow by blow news cycle and the seeming lack of privacy brought on by Cable News, Facebook, Twitter, and your neighbors’ Blog Posts are a modern issue. Likewise comes the accusation that the voracious hunger and thirst of the populace for all this juicy detail is a fallacy of the 21^st century mentality.

NOT SO! Such thinking shows a woeful disregard of the existence of those stalwart predecessors of Facebook and ALL the news, both real and fake: Community and even City NEWSPAPERS!

Frontier newspapers are a hoot to read! If your eyesight is still fairly decent and you are looking for amusement – you could do worse than checking out a website called Newspapers.com – and calling up some densely printed, usually faded microfilm images of actual copies of literally hundreds of thousands of entire newspapers from 120 or more years ago. You will be amazed at what you will find!

Most of the papers followed a particular pattern. For you avid local news junkies and readers of all the local blog posts, the fun begins right on the FRONT PAGE! Unless something REALLY major had happened, like war being declared or a Presidential assassination (or the Governor being involved in a Gunfight or Duel), the Front Page is ALL LOCAL NEWS!

Are you filled with a burning desire to know who is visiting your neighbors, what they had for dinner, how many people (and animals) came to someone’s birthday party and who they were and who they were with? — All those juicy little tidbits about our fellow citizens’ personal lives that we devour on social media sites every day…? They are all right there, on the FRONT PAGE of the local weekly or biweekly newspaper. Are you a fan of those Buy, Sell, Trade websites? Check out all those ads around the outside edges of the Front Page! Then look along the bottom of that very same page, and you will find all these notes from people around town saying things like- “I am looking to breed my prize bull. If you have a good cow, inquire at……” or “Mrs. Ben Morris says the Dr. Watkins Cherry Tonic is just the thing if you are feeling poorly. It will perk you right up!” The variety of information available is usually astounding! There is usually a whole column reporting all the goings on at all the schools and churches, all with blow-by-blow descriptions of who all were involved. And get this — The hotels published lists of the people who had checked each day, where they were from and usually what they were in town for and for how long!

Who needs privacy, eh? There was usually a similar list of all the local folks who were away traveling out of town, including the mode of transportation, where they were going, who they were going with and who they were going to see. AND how long they planned to be gone. Another nearby bit is sure to inform the curious reader who in town was sick, what they suffered from, how long they had been ill, and what the prognosis might be. Sound familiar?

Page TWO and THREE are right behind, and it is here that those Cable News junkies can find THEIR type of news! WORLD NEWS from all over the globe was duly reported in amazing detail, and feature articles described foreign cultures, history and customs. National Issues and Politics are also reported in GREAT detail with issues-oriented articles often going on at great length! Political cartoons also pop up from time to time, and there are usually some spots where local citizens are quoted – stating their often strongly felt opinions about the issues at hand! There’s a fair amount of sensationalism too. You’ll find SCANDALS in Washington like the duel between Andrew Jackson and the man who insulted his wife, and stories of violent acts of terror such as John Brown’s raid on Harper’s Ferry abound, all illustrated by lurid drawings depicting dramatic versions of the same.

Further back – the FAKE NEWS folks could often get their jollies by checking out the SERIAL TALES where Outlaws and Famous Indian Fighters and Lost Gold Mines abound! The folks of Legend are found here — Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, the James Brothers, Wyatt Earp, and Butch Cassidy — real folk whose embellished exploits were turned into serialized cliff-hangers that were read aloud by many a fireside, as readers nationwide waited breathlessly for the next installment! Fifty years on those same stories became fodder for two new entertainment mediums: radio and the motion picture.

Further back there were market reports, sports reports and even puzzles and games for children and adults alike. The latest notable deaths, local and national and even international were reported in great detail on the Obituary page, and there was also usually a Religion page, with Bible lessons and excerpts from famous and local sermons. There were articles on history, and animals, and latest scientific discoveries. Sounds a lot like the lineup on your cable tv or Internet Media service doesn’t it?

So, we 21^st century folks think we have no privacy? We think fake news and scandal are new inventions. We think people being obsessed with other folks lives, both near and far, is something new. Not hardly! Those things are as old as time itself. It is just the media that changes. Another family saying, this one from my grandmother sums it up. “It takes all kinds of people to make the world, and they are ALL here!” It’s true! Just check out all those channels and websites from across the world. Or go online or to a local museum and browse through an 1895 edition of the Granbury Tablet or Fort Worth Star! They’re all there too! Take a look and see!