Podcasts de historia

Frances Roe

Frances Roe

Es tarde, así que esto puede ser solo una nota: para decirles que llegamos aquí sanos y salvos y que subiremos al escenario hacia Fort Lyon mañana por la mañana a las seis en punto. Estoy bastante agradecido de que nuestra estadía sea corta en este terrible lugar, donde uno siente que hay peligro de ser asesinado en cualquier momento. No he visto a una mujer aquí, pero hay hombres, cualquier cantidad de hombres de aspecto espantoso, cada uno armado con grandes pistolas y cinturones de cuero llenos de cartuchos. Pero las casas que vimos al llegar de la estación eran incluso peores que las de los hombres. A la luz de la luna, parecían enormes tortas de arcilla, donde se podían encontrar fantasmas y cosas espeluznantes. El hotel es muy parecido a las casas, y parece haber sido hecho de tierra y algunas cajas de mercancías secas. Incluso el techo bajo es de tierra. Todo el lugar es horrible y lúgubre más allá de toda descripción, y no puedo entender por qué alguien vive aquí.

Después de meses de anticipación y días de agotador viaje, ¡por fin hemos llegado a nuestro hogar militar! Como usted sabe, Fort Lyon está a ochenta kilómetros de Kit Carson, y recorrimos toda esa distancia en una diligencia de aspecto extraño llamado "idiota", y también un buen nombre para él, ya que a veces se balanceaba de un lado a otro y luego de lado, de una manera tremendamente vertiginosa. El día era glorioso y la atmósfera tan clara que podíamos ver millas y millas en todas direcciones. Pero no había ningún objeto a la vista en las vastas llanuras onduladas, ni un árbol ni una casa, excepto el miserable rancho y empalizada donde conseguimos caballos frescos y una comida perfectamente incomible.

La publicación no es en absoluto como tú y yo lo habíamos imaginado. No hay un muro alto a su alrededor como en Fort Trumbull. Recuerda a un pueblecito remilgado construido alrededor de una plaza, en el centro de la cual hay un asta de bandera alta y un gran cañón. Los edificios son muy bajos y anchos y están hechos de adobe, una especie de arcilla y barro mezclados, y las paredes son muy gruesas. En cada ventana hay pesadas contraventanas de madera, que se pueden cerrar durante las fuertes tormentas de arena y viento. Una pequeña zanja, la llaman acequia, corre alrededor del poste y lleva agua a los árboles y al césped, pero el agua para uso en las casas se sube en vagones desde el río Arkansas y se guarda en barriles.

Ayer fuimos a Las Animas, la Sra. Phillips, la Sra. Cole y yo, para hacer unas compras. Hay varias tiendas pequeñas en el pueblo medio mexicano, donde a menudo se pueden encontrar cositas curiosas de México, si uno no le importa hurgar debajo de la basura y la suciedad que hay por todas partes. Mientras estábamos en la más grande de estas tiendas, diez o doce indios corrieron hacia la puerta en sus ponis, y cuatro de ellos, deslizándose hacia abajo, entraron en la tienda y pasaron rápidamente al mostrador más alejado, donde se guarda la munición. . A medida que avanzaban hacia nosotros a su manera imperiosa, sin mirar ni una sola vez a la derecha ni a la izquierda, parecían gigantes, y aumentaban en tamaño y número con cada paso.

Su llegada fue tan repentina que no tuvimos la oportunidad de apartarnos de su camino, y sucedió que la Sra. Phillips y yo estábamos en su línea de marcha, y cuando el que iba a la cabeza llegó hasta nosotros, nos empujaron a un lado. con tanta impaciencia que ambos caímos sobre el mostrador. Sin embargo, los otros pasaron igual, y si hubiéramos caído al suelo, supongo que nos habrían pisado y, de lo contrario, habrían sido ajenos a nuestra existencia. Esta fue mi introducción a un indio, ¡el noble hombre rojo!

Nada más llegar al mostrador exigieron pólvora, pelotas y casquillos de percusión, y como les daban estas cosas, les metían los rifles de avancarga, y lo que no se podía meter en los cañones se ponía en piel grasosa. bolsas y escondidas debajo de sus mantas. Vi a uno probar el filo de un cuchillo largo y de aspecto perverso, y luego, también, desapareció bajo su manta. Todo este tiempo los otros indios estaban en sus ponis al frente, observando cada movimiento que se hacía a su alrededor.

Sólo había una pequeña puerta a la pequeña tienda de adobe, y en ella un indio había montado su pony pony; sus patas delanteras subían un escalón en el alféizar y su cabeza y hombros estaban en la habitación, lo que hacía imposible que las tres asustadas mujeres saliéramos corriendo a la calle. Así que regresamos a un mostrador y, como lo expresó la Sra. Phillips, "a medio camino entre el diablo y las profundidades del mar". ¡Ciertamente no puede haber ningún error sobre el lado "diabólico" de esto!

Era una situación terrible en la que estar y aterrorizar a cualquiera. En realidad éramos prisioneros, encerrados con todos esos salvajes, que evidentemente estaban de mal humor, con cantidades de municiones a su alcance, y solo dos hombres blancos para protegernos. Incluso las pocas ventanas pequeñas tenían rejas de hierro. Podrían habernos matado a cada uno de nosotros y haber viajado lejos antes de que alguien en la tranquila ciudad se enterara.

Bueno, cuando a los que estaban dentro se les dio, o se sirvieron lo que quisieran, todos marcharon de nuevo, rápida y silenciosamente, tal como habían entrado. Al instante montaron en sus ponis, y todos cabalgaron por la calle y salieron. de la vista a velocidad de carrera, algunos tan inclinados sobre sus pequeñas bestias que apenas se podía ver al indio. El pony que entró por la puerta de la tienda no tenía bridas y estaba guiado por una larga tira de piel de búfalo que estaba sujeta alrededor de la mandíbula inferior con un nudo corredizo. Es asombroso ver cuán dóciles los indios pueden hacer sus ponis con solo esa rienda.

El tendero nos dijo que esos indios eran utes y estaban muy emocionados porque acababan de enterarse de que había un pequeño grupo de cheyennes río abajo a dos o tres millas. Los utes y cheyennes son enemigos acérrimos. Dijo que los Utes estaban muy enojados, listos para la sangre de un indio o de un hombre blanco, por lo tanto, les había permitido hacer lo que quisieran mientras estaban en la tienda, particularmente cuando estábamos allí, y vio que estábamos asustados. ¡Ese joven no sabía que su propio rostro moreno era de un blanco verdoso todo el tiempo que esos indios estaban en la tienda! Ni un centavo pagaron por las cosas que se llevaron. Hace solo dos años, toda la nación Ute estaba en pie de guerra, matando a todos los blancos con los que se cruzaban, y uno debe tener mucha fe en los indios para creer que su "cambio de opinión" ha sido tan completo que estos Utes han aprendido a amar a la gente. hombre blanco en tan poco tiempo.

¡No! Había odio en sus ojos cuando se acercaron a nosotros en esa tienda, y había un asesinato contenido en la mano que nos empujó a la Sra. Phillips ya mí. Todos eran horribles con rayas de pintura roja o verde en sus caras que los hacían parecer demonios. Su cabello estaba atado con tiras de material de colores brillantes, y colgaba a cada lado de sus hombros en la parte delantera, y en la coronilla de cada cabeza negra había un pequeño mechón trenzado, adornado en la parte superior con una pluma, una pieza. de estaño, o algo fantástico. Estos eran sus mechones de cuero cabelludo. Llevaban mantas sobre camisas viejas y sucias y, por supuesto, llevaban calzas de piel y mocasines largos y parecidos a pantalones. No eran altos, sino más bien bajos y fornidos. ¡El olor de esas pieles, y de los mismos indios, en esa pequeña tienda mal ventilada, espero oler el resto de mi vida!

Hace aproximadamente una semana se decidió que se debería enviar un grupo de hombres alistados a buscar carne de búfalo para la cena de Acción de Gracias para todos, oficiales y hombres alistados, y que el teniente Baldwin, que es un cazador experimentado, debería estar al mando del destacamento. Puedes imaginar lo orgulloso y encantado que estaba cuando me pidieron que fuera con ellos. El teniente Baldwin dijo que valdría la pena ver la cacería y que le pagaríamos la fatiga del duro viaje.

Bueno, recorrimos doce millas sin ver un ser vivo, y luego llegamos a un rancho de adobe donde desmontamos para descansar un rato. En ese momento nuestros pies y manos estaban casi congelados, y Faye sugirió que me quedara en el rancho hasta que regresaran; pero me negué a hacerlo; no se debía pensar en dejar de cazar, sobre todo porque un ranchero nos acababa de decir que esa misma mañana habían visto una pequeña manada de búfalos a sólo dos millas más adelante. Entonces,

cuando los caballos estuvieron un poco descansados, nos pusimos en marcha y, después de cabalgar una milla o más, llegamos a un pequeño barranco, donde encontramos a un pobre búfalo, demasiado viejo y demacrado para seguir el ritmo de sus compañeros, y que, por tanto, había sido abandonado por ellos, para morir solo. Se había comido la hierba hasta donde podía alcanzar y había dado vueltas y vueltas hasta que el suelo parecía como si lo hubieran arado.

Se incorporó sobre sus viejas piernas cuando nos acercábamos a él y trató de mostrar pelea bajando la cabeza y lanzando sus cuernos al frente, pero un niño podría haberlo empujado. Uno de los oficiales trató de persuadirme de que le disparara, diciendo que sería un acto humano, ¡y al mismo tiempo me dio el prestigio de haber matado un búfalo! Pero la sola idea de apuntar con una pistola a algo tan débil y completamente indefenso era repugnante en extremo. Él también era un objeto de lástima, dejado allí solo para morir de hambre, cuando quizás en algún momento pudo haber sido el líder de su rebaño. Era muy alto, tenía un buen

cabeza, con una barba extraordinariamente larga, y mostraba todos los indicios de haber sido un gran espécimen de su especie.

Debemos haber avanzado por lo menos dos millas más antes de ver la manada que estábamos buscando, haciendo quince o dieciséis millas en total que habíamos cabalgado. Los búfalos pastaban tranquilamente a lo largo de un prado entre colinas bajas y onduladas. Inmediatamente retrocedimos un poco y esperamos los carros, y cuando subieron hubo una gran actividad, se lo aseguro. Las sillas de los oficiales fueron transferidas a sus cazadores, y los hombres que iban a unirse a la persecución prepararon sus caballos y rifles. El teniente Baldwin dio sus instrucciones a todos y todos partieron, cada uno en una dirección diferente para formar un cordón, dijo Faye, alrededor de toda la manada. Faye no se unió a la cacería, pero permaneció conmigo todo el día. Él y yo cabalgamos sobre la colina y nos detuvimos cuando llegamos a un lugar donde pudiéramos tener una buena vista del valle y ver la carrera.

Parecieron sólo unos minutos cuando vimos al búfalo arrancar, alejándose de algunos de los hombres, por supuesto, que de inmediato comenzaron a perseguirlos. Esto los mantuvo corriendo en línea recta y, afortunadamente, en dirección al teniente Baldwin, quien aparentemente estaba sujetando su caballo, esperando que llegaran. Vimos a través de nuestros prismáticos que tan pronto como se acercaron lo suficiente, él hizo una carrera rápida hacia la manada y, al cortar uno, lo giró para que se dirigiera directamente hacia nosotros.

Ahora, estar en una cacería de búfalos a una distancia prudente, era una cosa, pero tener uno de esos enormes animales tronando como una máquina de vapor directamente sobre ti, era otra muy distinta. Yo también estaba en uno de los caballos del teniente Baldwin, y sentí que podría haber peligro de que corriera hacia su compañero, Tom, cuando lo vio pasar, y como no estaba ansioso por unirme a una persecución de búfalos justo en ese momento. tiempo, le rogué a Faye que me acompañara más colina arriba. Pero no retrocedió ni un paso, asegurándome que mi caballo era un cazador entrenado y acostumbrado a tales visiones.

El teniente Baldwin avanzó constantemente sobre el búfalo, y en un tiempo maravillosamente corto ambos pasaron directamente frente a nosotros, a menos de treinta metros, dijo Faye. El teniente Baldwin estaba cerca de él entonces, su caballo se veía muy pequeño y delgado al lado del gran animal que estaba dando pasos suaves, balanceándose, aparentemente sin esfuerzo y sin velocidad, con la lengua colgando a un lado. Pero pudimos ver que el ritmo era realmente tremendo, que el teniente Baldwin usaba libremente la espuela y que su veloz pura sangre estaba estirado como un galgo, esforzando cada músculo en su esfuerzo por mantener el ritmo. Iba cerca del búfalo a su izquierda, con el revólver en la mano derecha, y me pregunté por qué no disparaba, pero Faye dijo que sería inútil disparar entonces, que el teniente Baldwin debía acercarse más al hombro, ya que un búfalo es vulnerable solo en ciertas partes de su cuerpo, y un cazador con experiencia como el teniente Baldwin nunca pensaría en disparar a menos que pudiera apuntar al corazón o los pulmones.

Últimamente ha habido una gran cantidad de antílopes cerca del puesto, y hemos estado en muchas cacerías de ellos. los

Los galgos no han estado con nosotros, sin embargo, porque seguir a los sabuesos cuando perseguimos a esos animales flotantes no solo requiere el tipo de caballo más rápido y muy buena equitación, sino que es extremadamente peligroso tanto para el caballo como para el jinete debido a los muchos agujeros de los perros de la pradera. que son terribles trampas mortales. Y además, los perros invariablemente se llenan los pies de agujas de cactus, que les causan mucho sufrimiento durante días.

Así que hemos estado señalando a los antílopes, es decir, aprovechando vergonzosamente su maravillosa curiosidad y atrayéndolos dentro del alcance del rifle. En estas cacerías suelo llevar los caballos de los tres oficiales y los míos, y hasta ahora no me han dado muchos problemas, ya que cada uno es un animal adiestrado en tropa.

Los antílopes son pequeñas criaturas tímidas y cautelosas, y poseen un sentido del olfato anormal que hace que sea absolutamente necesario que los cazadores se muevan con cautela hacia sotavento en el instante en que los descubren. Siempre es fácil encontrar una pequeña colina que los cubra en parte (el país es tan ondulado) mientras se arrastran y gatean hasta su posición, siempre conscientes del terrible cactus. Cuando llegan al punto más alto se iza la bandera, y esta suele hacerse en el lugar, de un pañuelo de seda rojo, una esquina pasa por el pisón de un rifle Springfield. Luego, todos se tumban en el suelo, apoyados en los codos, con el rifle en posición para disparar.

Los antílopes siempre pastan contra el viento, e incluso un novato puede saber cuándo descubre la bandera, porque instantáneamente dejan de alimentarse, y toda la banda girará para enfrentarla, con grandes orejas redondas erguidas, y de esta manera lo harán. permanezca un segundo o dos, oliendo constantemente el aire. Si no descubren algo peligroso, darán unos pasos hacia adelante, tal vez correrán un poco, darán rápidos movimientos de cabeza y olisquearán con casi cada respiración, pero hagan lo que hagan, la parada siempre estará en la misma posición: de cara a la bandera. , el extraño objeto que no pueden entender. A menudo se acercarán muy lentamente, haciendo frecuentes paradas después de pequeñas carreras, y darán muchas sacudidas de cabeza como si en realidad estuvieran coqueteando con la muerte misma. Esperar a que se acerquen al alcance del rifle requiere mucha paciencia, ya que el acercamiento es siempre más o menos lento, y con frecuencia, justo cuando están a la distancia correcta y el dedo en el gatillo, toda la banda saldrá disparada, mirando como barras horizontales de color marrón y blanco! Siempre me alegro mucho cuando hacen esto, porque parece tan perverso matar criaturas tan elegantes. Es muy raro que mire el acercamiento, pero cuando los veo llegar, la tentación de hacer algo para asustarlos y alejarlos de esas armas asesinas es casi irresistible.

Ciertamente, Camp Supply se encuentra en un país indio, ya que está rodeado de comanches, apaches, kiowas, cheyennes y arapahoes, cada uno de los cuales es una tribu hostil, excepto el último. Nadie puede salir de la guarnición sin una escolta, y nuestro correo semanal es traído en un carro y custodiado por un cabo y varios soldados. Solo la semana pasada, dos correos, soldados, que habían sido enviados con despachos de Fort Dodge, fueron encontrados muertos en la carretera, ambos con disparos en la espalda, probablemente sin haber tenido una oportunidad de defenderse.

¡Imagínese haber dado una cena en este castillo de sacos de arena en las llanuras, a millas y millas de un hombre o una mujer blancos! El número de invitados era pequeño, pero su rango era inmenso, porque entretuvimos a Powder-Face, jefe de la nación Arapahoe, ya Wauk, su joven india, madre de su pequeño jefe.

Hace dos o tres días, Powder-Face vino a hacer una visita formal al "Jefe Blanco" y trajo consigo a otros dos indios; los llamaríamos ayudantes, supongo. Un soldado se ofreció a sujetar su caballo, pero él no quiso desmontar, y lo montó con grave dignidad hasta que Faye salió y en persona lo invitó a entrar y fumar. Es un indio de personalidad sorprendente: es bastante alto, de hombros anchos y cuadrados, y el equilibrio de su cabeza le dice a uno de inmediato que no es un salvaje ordinario.

Debemos haberle ganado el favor, porque cuando se marchaba anunció que volvería al día siguiente y llevaría consigo a su mujer. ¡Entonces Faye, a su manera hospitalaria, los invitó a una cena al mediodía! Me quedé casi sin habla de horror ante la sola idea de sentarme a una mesa con un indio, sin importar cuán gran jefe pudiera ser. Pero no pude decir nada, por supuesto, y se fue con el entendimiento de que regresaría al día siguiente. Faye me aseguró que sería divertido verlos y romper la monotonía aquí.

Aparecieron de inmediato, y me interesé en Wauk de inmediato, porque era una mujer notable. Alta y esbelta, con un rostro bastante delgado y juvenil, muy diferente a las indias bajas y gordas que se ven habitualmente, y también tenía la apariencia de ser bastante ordenada. No sabría decir si estaba vestida especialmente para la ocasión, ya que nunca la había visto antes, pero todo lo que llevaba estaba hermosamente bordado con cuentas, en su mayoría blancas, y pequeños dientes de animales. Llevaba una especie de falda corta, mallas altas y, por supuesto, mocasines, y alrededor de los hombros y muy por debajo de la cintura había una prenda de forma extraña, ni capa ni chal, salpicada de pequeños dientes, que se abrochaban por todas partes. en un extremo y se deja colgar.

En lo alto de su cuello había un collar de perro de dientes finos que era realmente hermoso, y había varios collares de diferentes longitudes colgando debajo, uno de los cuales era de dientes de alce pulidos y muy raro. La piel de toda su ropa se había bronceado hasta quedar tan suave como un niño. Tenía muchos brazaletes en los brazos, muchos de ellos de hojalata, creo. Su cabello estaba separado y colgado en cuerdas sueltas por cada hombro por delante. Sus pies y manos eran muy pequeños, incluso para un indio, y demostraban que la vida había sido amable con ella. Estoy seguro de que debe haber sido una princesa de nacimiento, era tan diferente de todas las mujeres que he visto. No podía hablar una palabra de inglés, pero su señor, a quien parecía adorar, podía hacerse entender muy bien por señas y una palabra de vez en cuando.

Powder-Face vestía una manta, pero debajo había una camisa de pieles finas, la parte delantera estaba casi cubierta de dientes, cuentas y wampum. Llevaba el pelo recogido a ambos lados y colgado al frente, y el mechón del cuero cabelludo en la parte superior destacaba por la habitual pluma larga que lo atravesaba.

El jefe Powder-Face, que en realidad no es viejo, es respetado por todos y ha contribuido decisivamente a que la nación Arapahoe cese las hostilidades contra los blancos. Algunos de los jefes de menor rango tienen mucha de la dignidad de los salvajes de alta cuna, particularmente Lone Wolf y su hijo Big Mouth, quienes vienen a vernos de vez en cuando. Lobo Solitario ya no es un guerrero y, por supuesto, ya no usa un mechón de cuero cabelludo y cadenas de wampum y cuentas, y me gustaría que creyeras que alguna vez ha sido amigo del hombre blanco, pero sospecho que incluso ahora podría haberlo sacó un viejo cinturón de guerra con el cuero cabelludo colgando que podía hablar de masacre, tortura y asesinato. Big Mouth es un jefe de guerra y tiene el mismo gran físico que Powder-Face y una personalidad casi tan sorprendente. Su cabello es simplemente espléndido, maravillosamente pesado, largo y muy brillante. Su cuero cabelludo es de lo más artístico, y sin duda lo mantiene en orden una india.

Nos hemos sentido muy valientes desde que se estableció el campamento, y hace dos días, varios de nosotros manejamos hasta una aldea de Cheyenne que está a una milla más o menos río arriba. Pero poco después de que llegamos allí no nos sentimos un poco valientes, porque no habíamos salido de la ambulancia más de cinco minutos, cuando uno de sus pregoneros llegó corriendo en un pony muy mojado, y entró y salió como loco entre los tipis, todo el tiempo gritando algo a todo pulmón.

Al instante hubo un parloteo entre todos y una gran conmoción. Cada indio hablaba y no parecía haber nadie que escuchara. Varios tipis fueron derribados maravillosamente rápido, y varios ponis fueron apresurados, ensillados y llevados a la velocidad de la carrera, algunas indias llorando mientras los veían irse, armas en sus manos. Otras indias nos miraban y mostraban un odio intenso a través de sus ojos malvados. Pronto descubrimos todos que la aldea no era realmente atractiva, y cuatro mujeres asustadas regresaron a la guarnición tan rápido como las mulas del gobierno pudieron traerlas. ¿Cuál fue la causa de tanta emoción que probablemente nunca sabremos?

no haber ido allí sin un oficial y, sin embargo, ¡qué podría haber hecho un hombre contra todos esos salvajes!

Nos sentimos honrados por la visita de un jefe el otro día. Era un cheyenne del pueblo, presumiblemente, y su nombre era White Horse. Debió de haber nacido jefe, porque era joven, muy digno y también muy guapo para ser indio. Por supuesto, su rostro estaba pintado de una manera espantosa, pero sus calzas y su ropa en general estaban mucho más arregladas que las de la mayoría de los indios. Su pecho estaba literalmente cubierto de dientes pulidos de animales, cuentas y wampum, dispuestos artísticamente en una especie de peto, y el mechón de su cuero cabelludo, que evidentemente había sido trenzado con mucho cuidado, estaba adornado con una pluma larga muy hermosa.

Cuando salimos a unos veinticinco kilómetros de la carretera, apareció un indio apache, y tan repentinamente que pareció como si hubiera brotado del suelo. Llevaba un traje de guerra completo, es decir, sin ningún vestido excepto el pantalón y los mocasines, y su rostro y todo el cuerpo desnudo estaban manchados de muchos colores de la manera más espantosa. En el mechón de su cuero cabelludo se abrochaban varias plumas de águila y, por supuesto, llevaba dos o tres collares de cuentas y wampum. No había nada inusual en el pony que montaba, excepto que era más grande y estaba en mejores condiciones que el caballo indio promedio, pero el que conducía, sin duda su caballo de guerra, era un animal muy hermoso, uno de los más hermosos que yo. alguna vez vi.

Evidentemente, el apache apreciaba el caballo, porque sólo se había manchado la cara, pero esto se había vuelto tan espantoso como el del indio. El pony era de un color crema brillante, esbelto, con una cabeza perfecta y orejas pequeñas, y se podía ver que era rápido y ágil en cada movimiento. Él también estaba bien arreglado. La larga y pesada melena había sido dividida desde las orejas hasta la cruz, y luego retorcida y atada a ambos lados con tiras de algo rojo que terminaban en largas serpentinas, que salían volando de la manera más fantástica cuando el pony corría. La larga cola estaba atada solo lo suficiente para sujetar en la parte superior una serie de tiras rojas que colgaban casi hasta el suelo sobre el cabello. Imagínese toda esta espantosa crueldad que se precipita sobre usted, ¡en un caballo amarillo con una melena de un rojo ondulante! Su sola presencia en un pony trote ordinario era suficiente para congelar la sangre en las venas.

Fort Benton está a diez millas del campamento y Faye me recibió allí con una ambulancia. Me alegré lo suficiente de alejarme de esa vieja etapa. Era una especie de sacudidas espasmódicas que te hace caer del asiento cada cinco minutos. Las primeras dos o tres veces te golpeas la cabeza con el pasajero sentado enfrente, puedes sonreír y disculparte con algo de gracia, pero después de un tiempo tu sombrero no se queda en su lugar y tu cabeza se vuelve sensible, y finalmente, descubres que el pasajero está la persona más desagradable que jamás hayas visto, y que el hombre sentado a tu lado es desconsiderado y egoísta, y realmente ocupa dos tercios del asiento.

Recorrimos una distancia de ciento cuarenta millas, obteniendo caballos frescos cada veinte millas más o menos. La mañana que dejamos a Helena fue gloriosa, y yo estaba medio avergonzado porque me sentía muy feliz de venir del pueblo, donde muchos de mis amigos estaban entristecidos, pero traté de consolarme con el hecho de que el doctor me había ordenado que me fuera. Gordon. Hubo muchos casos de fiebre tifoidea, y la fiebre reumática que ha enfermado tanto a la Sra. Sargent se ha convertido en fiebre tifoidea, y hay muy pocas esperanzas de que se recupere.

El conductor no quiso que me sentara encima con él, así que tuve que entrar con tres hombres. No eran de aspecto rudo en absoluto, y sus ropas parecían limpias y bastante nuevas, pero daban la impresión de que habían sido hechas para otras personas. Sus rostros pálidos decían que eran "pies tiernos", y se podía ver que había una triste falta de cerebro a su alrededor.


Cartas del ejército de la esposa de un oficial, 1871-1888

Soy un fanático de las fuentes primarias. Estas cartas de 1871 a 1888 brindan una visión única de la vida en los puestos del ejército en el oeste, principalmente en Montana. Una lectura divertida, especialmente por las ideas sobre la propia Sra. Roe.

Un mapa hubiera sido útil ya que muchas de las publicaciones mencionadas ya no existen. Soy un fanático de las fuentes primarias. Estas cartas de 1871 a 1888 brindan una visión única de la vida en los puestos del ejército en el oeste, principalmente en Montana. Una lectura divertida, especialmente por las ideas sobre la propia Sra. Roe.

Un mapa hubiera sido útil ya que muchas de las publicaciones mencionadas ya no existen. . más

Frances Roe es una mujer que vale la pena conocer, una personalidad viva e inteligente. Esta colección de sus cartas sitúa al lector en medio de la vida en puestos militares fronterizos.

Como esposas de militares a lo largo de los siglos (mi madre, por ejemplo), tuvo que seguir a su esposo de un puesto a otro según el capricho del Ejército: habla del impacto personal de las reglas y regulaciones y las reasignaciones.

Se enorgullece de cazar, pescar y montar incluso en los caballos más intratables. Cuida con amor a su cachorro de galgo y su mascota. Frances Roe es una mujer que vale la pena conocer, una personalidad viva e inteligente. Esta colección de sus cartas sitúa al lector en la mitad de la vida en los puestos militares fronterizos.

Como esposas de militares a lo largo de los siglos (mi madre, por ejemplo), tuvo que seguir a su esposo de un puesto a otro según el capricho del Ejército: habla del impacto personal de las reglas y regulaciones y las reasignaciones.

Se enorgullece de cazar, pescar y montar incluso en los caballos más intratables. Ella cuida con amor a su cachorro de galgo y a su ardilla mascota. Su descripción de la socialización militar es fascinante, especialmente cuando explica cómo se decoraban fiestas elegantes en medio de la nada. (¡Una de mis partes favoritas del libro fue su construcción de un disfraz fabuloso para un baile de máscaras!)

Me encanta leer la historia directamente de las plumas de quienes la vivieron. . más

Mi propia abuela, nacida en la memoria de Occidente como era, anhelaba ir a verlo. Me la imagino leyendo este libro cuando era niña, unos años después de su publicación. Este libro, y el de Laura Ingalls Wilder, son tan evocadores de esa Frontera, posterior a la Guerra Civil, que bordea el siglo de la mayoría de nuestros nacimientos, que empiezo a preguntarme si las mujeres podrían ver mejor Occidente y pintarlo para nuestra modernidad. ojo, de una manera que los hombres no.

En cualquier caso, la valentía, el coraje y el buen humor de esta mujer me asombra. Mi propia abuela, nacida en la memoria de Occidente como era, anhelaba ir a verlo. Me la imagino leyendo este libro cuando era niña, unos años después de su publicación. Este libro, y el de Laura Ingalls Wilder, son tan evocadores de esa Frontera, posterior a la Guerra Civil, que bordea el siglo de la mayoría de nuestros nacimientos, que empiezo a preguntarme si las mujeres podrían ver mejor Occidente y pintarlo para nuestra modernidad. ojo, de una manera que los hombres no.

En cualquier caso, la valentía, el coraje y el buen humor de esta mujer me asombra. Frances M. A. Roe parece característica de las esposas de militares, que apoyan a su soldado y le hacen un hogar, incluso en lugares desesperados. En la segunda mitad del libro, ella afirma que ella y las otras esposas conocen la importancia de esto, incluso si el Ejército y los viejos solteros (de los que a menudo se burla amablemente) no lo saben.

Frances Roe es aventurera. Las iniciales de su segundo nombre son M.A., de Mary Antoinette, lo que sugiere que sus padres tenían una imagen muy diferente de su vida futura. El libro cubre el Occidente cambiante. Al principio, su esposo se había graduado en West Point, la Academia Militar de los Estados Unidos, y está siendo destinado a la Frontera. Ella está haciendo sus primeros viajes largos hacia el oeste antes que los trenes, y debe dejar mucho atrás, y luego volver a hacerlo cuando los vagones no tengan suficiente espacio para su equipaje. Al final del libro, los paseos en carreta han dado un paseo a los trenes, y los lugares en los que ha vivido son tan diferentes que no los reconoce. Ahora que hay trenes, dice, los congresistas y otros están ansiosos por salir y ver Occidente, dice. Pero ella lo vio, y nos describe, lo que era Occidente.

En esos primeros días (y en realidad, permanecen fuera del alcance de los trenes), a menudo se acerca a su tiempo allí con un sentido de aventura, a veces una preocupación comprensible y, a menudo, una alegría real. Pienso en la forma en que emprende los viajes de una semana por la montaña, los pic nics largos que ella llama uno, después de haber estado en una ciudad demasiado tiempo. A ella le gusta montar a caballo, tan bien que los hombres se maravillan de su talento para montarlos y entrenarlos (22 caballos, ya sea sin cuidado o sin montar por una mujer antes, según su recuento). Vuela sobre la pradera, a pesar de los miles de agujeros de los perritos de la pradera que pueden hacer tropezar a su caballo y dejarla con huesos rotos por muerta. A veces, parece vivir para estos paseos, a pesar de las tribus más peligrosas, los cheyenne, las tormentas de arena, los hombres rudos, los depredadores de animales, las temperaturas repentinas y heladas y las piedras de granizo del tamaño de bolas. Oh, e inundaciones. Pero aún así se monta en su caballo y vuela.

Hay tantas otras cosas valientes que hace y las toma con calma. Se enfrenta a hombres del doble de su tamaño, usa el pensamiento rápido para salir de situaciones malas, se mantiene firme cuando otros corren, se ve invadida por tormentas de polvo que enloquecen a los caballos, arenas alcalinas que acaban con su caballo y ella, casi sin dejar nada. rastro de ellos, cabalga a través de lobos desafiándola a ella y a su caballo, llama a la guarnición de una manera que parece que salva la vida de su marido.

A veces, habla de experiencias tan desafiantes que parece casi como si estuviera enferma. Un moderno podría describirlos como breves averías. Ella no tiene miedo de mostrar sus lágrimas, pero tampoco se detiene en ellas en tantas cartas a casa, y parece notablemente resistente y rápida de recuperarse. En un momento, después de años en la frontera, simplemente tiene que irse a casa al este. Pero vuelve a casa que lo hace durante unas semanas. Luego regresa a su amada frontera. (También hay publicaciones en el sur y en el personal de General, pero en gran parte pasan desapercibidas, excepto por su sorprendente dolor por dejar la frontera, su perro o caballo, y otros en las comunidades del fuerte con las que ha forjado relaciones). .

Mientras se enfoca en construir una vida para ella y su esposo y en su comunidad, y está tan enfocada en sus animales, uno ocasionalmente se pregunta que ella y su esposo no tuvieron hijos durante los 17 años de este libro, y el costo que eso puede ocasionar. have taken as well. Perhaps the secret personal tragedies of life on the frontier, though she never makes an issue of it. One wonders what else she does not mention.

She goes to the West when there are still buffalo herds, and she participates in a hunt, tho she cannot bring herself to kill one of them.

She is afraid of Indians, but also entertains them in her home, and there are often strange standoffs. For those in the East, like myself, who know the Cherokee allied tribes, and the shame of the trail of tears imposed on them, some of her impressions seem wrong. But she is living on the Frontier with the Cheyenne. And when one looks into the accounts of Cheyenne warfare, and treatment of women and children, it is amazing the fear that her husband the West Point Officer must have had for his wife, and she for him. These accounts rival the worst war crimes I have heard of other cultures. She does not speak of these. But in not speaking of them, still I know one could not but think of them. (I think for one example of the shocking and tragic Parker raid).

Well loved frontier Indian relations of mine by marriage are mentioned, and it is amazing to think that at later times in the book she is describing to me my favorite Aunt's people, and what they saw across the mountains and sky. My aunt's grandmother could have met Frances Roe based on her travels thru their territories, and some of those she describes.

There are Indian tragedies hinted at, as Sitting Bull on Reservation calls for the Army to remove half white and half Indian people using his land, and the Garrison does, she says regretfully. She is not the soldier, but one senses her feelings about things are a true echo of their reflections in calmer moments. The true Indian wars would have been still occurring, but they do not seem to occur at her husband's postings. This of course may be "the tyranny of the text." Someone could do good work on a History honor's or master's thesis if they mapped out just what was happening parallel to this text, and in the region.

She speaks -- in the first recorded instance -- of the Buffalo Soldiers, the African American Indian fighting cavalry troops. She gives high marks to their bravery and character. She also speaks of integration, then segregation, as one commander follows another. And of her conflicted feelings in hearing a Souza march Souza wrote for her old home regiment being played by African American troops. At first she is glad to hear it, and then possessive -- who are they to play her old home's march, she asks. And then complementary that they did it well.

There is something of a non-PC character arc occurring over the course of her letters. That arc seems in one way to reach across her 17 years, and in another way, reach from Frances M.A. Roe, to us in our present day. We are all still working out Martin Luther King's Dream. But I was somewhat encouraged to hear her move from speaking of how she would not have a Chinese cook (semi-horrified of them and their practices), to taking one into employment, to power struggles (of a sort) to maintain control in her own kitchen from her Chinese cook (his own issues with women, perhaps). Altho imperfect, this then grows to a sort of grudging accommodation, then respect, and then endearment for her succession of Chinese cooks (and possibly this was a two way street). Each of these cooks was a different person. But to see her grow in this from a place of semi-horror of their ways (which I found both honest on her part and embarrassing) to a place of a sort of friendship and protection (where her Chinese cook watched out for her in a way), to tears at the parting some ten years later, suggests a character arc, and a good momentum to that arc.

People will find both encouragement and disappointment in her discussion of these things (and there are tragedies to these things, and lost opportunities), but actually, these matters are infrequent relative to the volume. --Her focus is on the joys of community amongst the small band of the forts, the kindness and respect of the other wives, and soldiers. --The laughter of the men together -- despite the hard natural conditions -- and often, it seems, somehow, because of these conditions. The men laugh and laugh, as they work together. I thought, perhaps laughter is the second most common of the substantive words in this book. If so, a close first and third common word is fear, and tears. But as I think of it, surely more than all three is her sense of joy in the frontier, and the love she and her husband have (tho I do not think she uses that word). Her happiness in adventure, making do, and wanting to be a good wife to her husband, to make the life of those who stop by her home a little more comfortable, with a sense of their far away home. She uses the curious word "dainty" to describe the dinners and type of table delicacies she tries to set. Perhaps the word was common, but I think it is more that it is in contrast to the rough hewn men and surroundings, that she seeks to employ it. I love the pride she has in her work, and the work of the other women there.

Frances Roe is intelligent, brave (tho often self-effacing, and so one suspects even braver than she lets on). She seems respected among the officers, enlisted, and even rough men of the West. One gets the sense that she is exactly the right woman for this man to have married, and that he must have been envied for her ways and heart.

I would have loved to have met her. And in my grandmother and aunt, I almost feel I have met a type of Frances M. A. Roe. As I write this, I think too that I will miss her. And tho I know intelligent and challenging women, those among my family included, I wonder if we will see many of her character, or her husband's, as America roles ever onward, into our techno-soft, atomized futures. I will miss her, and the Frontier that once defined my country. Her book is like -- exactly like -- letters and scenic post cards from a place and time we never can visit again. . más


Sympathy Flowers

Frances was born on September 28, 1937 and passed away on Tuesday, December 17, 2019.

Frances was a resident of Weston, Ohio.

Send Condolences
SEARCH OTHER SOURCES

The beautiful and interactive Eternal Tribute tells Frances' life story the way it deserves to be told in words, imágenes y video.

Create an online memorial to tell that story for generations to come, creating a permanent place for family and friends to honor the memory of your loved one.

Select An Online Memorial Product:

Share that special photograph of your loved one with everyone. Document family connections, service information, special times and priceless moments for all to remember and cherish forever with support for unlimited copy.


Frances Newton executed for slaying her family

HUNTSVILLE - Frances Newton, convicted of killing her husband and two children to gain $100,000 in insurance benefits, was executed Wednesday as dozens of death house protesters fervently prayed for her deliverance and chanted their opposition to the state's death penalty.

After weeks of intense legal wrangling, Newton's execution went ahead after the U.S. Supreme Court and Gov. Rick Perry refused to intervene. She was the 349th killer put to death in Texas since executions were resumed in 1982, and the first black woman executed in Texas since the Civil War.

Sentenced to die for the 1987 murders of her husband, Adrian, 23, and the couple's children, Alton, 7, and Farrah, 21 months, Newton offered no final statement. Seemingly nervous, she stared blankly at the ceiling, then turned toward the witness rooms to mouth inaudible words.

In the witness room reserved for her relatives, Newton's sister, Pamela Nelms, cradled her head in her arms, which she had thrust against a rear wall. In the room occupied by her husband's family, a cousin, Tamika Craft-Demming, began to weep when it became apparent the drugs had been administered.

"It's OK. It's over with now," another relative whispered, placing an arm around her shoulder. "Eighteen years. It's over with now."

As Craft-Demming's weeping grew into sobs, the relative whispered, "Pray, pray, pray. Just pray."

"Jesus," Craft-Demming began before her voice dissolved into weeping. "Those poor babies."

Protesters call it murder

Later at a news conference, Craft-Demming said, "I had a rough go in that room, but not one tear was for Frances. They were for the kids."

Craft-Demming described Newton as a "mean and evil-spirited person. . None of these things have been talked about."

Craft-Demming said that without a confession, Newton's death did not constitute justice. A confession, she said, "would have put to rest the lies told about our family."

Outside, protesters, most of whom arrived an hour before the execution, chanted "Frances! Frances! Frances!" for several minutes as the execution was set to begin. They said she was "murdered" or "lynched" because she was poor and black.

Protesters repeatedly chanted, "What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? Now!" Some sang Amazing Grace .

Newton's supporters said that the grass-roots focus on helping the Hurricane Katrina victims hindered the Free Frances movement and contributed to the low turnout for protesters. About 75 protesters appeared &mdash a fraction of the hundreds who turned out at Karla Faye Tucker's execution in 1998.

Tucker, a pickax killer, was the first woman executed in Texas since executions were reinstated.

"I pray that God will forgive us for not being organized to help our sister Frances," said Houston activist Quanell X.

As the execution took place, protesters hoisted an effigy of Newton &mdash a stuffed orange jumpsuit with a painted face &mdash from a rope.

Always claimed innocence

Newton, 40, consistently proclaimed her innocence, contending her family was killed by drug dealers to whom her husband owed money. Adrian Newton, she has said, used and sold drugs, and often was in fear of his suppliers.

For death penalty opponents, Newton's case seemed to embody everything they found wrong with capital punishment. In her initial trial, she was represented by an attorney who acknowledged he had done little to research the case and later was suspended by the State Bar of Texas.

When Newton received a stay to, in part, retest incriminating stains on the dress she wore the night of the killings, defense attorneys were stunned to learn earlier testing had destroyed the evidence.

Although defense attorneys crafted appeals based on claims that two, possibly three, pistols were seized as evidence &mdash calling into question assertions that a gun Newton admitted hiding had been the murder weapon &mdash their efforts got nowhere.

Assistant District Attorney Roe Wilson repeatedly insisted that only one pistol had been recovered, and recanted as a slip of the tongue a videotaped statement in which she had confirmed a second gun's existence.

Newton's supporters warned that executing a possibly innocent woman risked drawing the wrath of God.

Even the parents of Newton's dead husband, Tom and Virginia Louis, were marshaled to plead with the pardons board.

"All my prayers and hopes are that she won't get executed," Virginia Louis said Wednesday in a telephone interview.

But in the end, efforts in and out of court accomplished little.

The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals found that defense attorney Ron Mock had provided adequate representation and that the defense's multiple-gun theory was just a previously weighed and rejected argument in new clothes.


St Frances of Rome

St Frances also gave wine to any who asked, finally using the last cask filled with wine in the cellar. It was found empty when her annoyed father-in-law sought a glass of wine for himself. He raved at the saint, telling her she was bringing privation upon them to feed strangers. St Frances asked her family to have faith, and walked to the cellar with them. She turned the spicket on the empty cask and wine began to flow - the best wine any of them had ever tasted. Now the father-in-law changed his tune, saying:

"Oh, my dear child, dispose henceforward of everything I possess, and multiply without end those alms that have gained you such favor in God's sight!"

Rome was invaded in 1410 and during the civil war which followed, a series of calamities befell the Ponziani family. Lorenzo, who fought with the papal troops, was wounded and after St Frances had nursed him to health, he went back to the war.

John Baptist, the oldest son, was taken hostage, and did not return until peace was restored. A plague followed in the wake of the war, and Frances' second son and a daughter died of the disease.

The peasants from the wasted Ponziani farm came to St Frances, begging for food. Frances heroically devoted herself to the care of the sick, the starving, and the dying, and organized a group of Roman ladies to assist her in this work. For a time she too was stricken by the plague, but after she was suddenly cured she at once resumed her works of charity.

After his death, Frances' second son appeared to her and brought her an archangel to take the place of her guardian angel. The archangel's light was visible to her so that she could read by it. When she committed a slight fault, the archangel would hide himself and his light would not shine again until she had made an act of contrition.

Shortly after his return, John Baptist married a flighty young lady, who took a strong dislike to St Frances. But in the midst of one of her tempers she was afflicted with a strange illness and after Frances' hand calmed and cured her she became a changed person. Frances placed the household in her care and devoted herself henceforth entirely to works of charity in the city.

In 1425, St Frances of Rome and a half dozen other Roman ladies, her companions, were clothed as oblates of St Benedict. This apparently did not cancel her membership in the Third Order for, at this time she and Vanozza made a pilgrimage to Assisi, walking the one hundred miles from Rome to the city of St Francis. Near Assisi St Francis himself appeared to them, and provided the hungry and thirsty pilgrims with fresh, juicy pears by striking a wild pear tree with his stick.

In 1433, after Lorenzo's death, St Frances of Rome and her companions founded a religious community of Oblates. There they worked and prayed for the Holy Father and the peace of Rome, for the city was once more in turmoil.

Returning to this convent after a visit to her sick son, St Frances suddenly became ill and was taken back to the Ponziani palace. There she died after seven days, on March 9, 1440.

The tomb of St Frances was opened some months after her death, and besides finding the saint incorrupt, her body gave off a delightful fragrance. In 1638 her tomb was opened again, but on this occasion only the bones of the saint remained.

Pope Paul V canonized Frances in 1608. Her tomb is beneath the high altar in the crypt of the Roman church which is now called Santa Francesca Romana in her honor. She is honored as the principal patron of all Benedictine oblates, but she is also one of the greatest saints who wore the habit of the Third Order of St Francis.


Facts about famous French people, French customs, their wine and time zones

23. Marie Curie, Blaise Pascal, Pierre Curie and Joseph Fourier are some of the famous scientists from France. (Read some interesting facts about Albert Einstein, Henry Ford and Isaac Newton)

24. In France, it is customary to greet others and say ‘Hello’ and ‘good morning or afternoon,’ depending on the time of the day. It is all about being polite.

25. The French love polite people. This is the reason why a coffee shop in France sells cheap coffee to those of its customers who greet and say ‘bonjour’ before ordering their favorite coffee.

26. The license plates that we see today on automobiles were first introduced in France.

27. In France, it is illegal to name a pig “Napoleon.”

28. France is one of the largest producers of wine en el mundo. They produce between 7-8 billion bottles every year. Many of these wines are sold internationally at hefty prices, while the rest are consumed locally in the country.

29. Condom vending machines can be found in almost 90% of the high schools in France.

30. Existen 12 time zones in use in France. This is the highest number among any nation in the world.


Famous French Writers

Having won the most number of &lsquoNobel&rsquo prizes in literature, France has produced some of the greatest literary minds. Starting from the &lsquoGolden Age&rsquo of French literature, in the 19th century, French writers have always been dominant in the pool of intellectuals in Europe and their literature is characterized by patriotic fervor and great love for the language. They have produced some of the finest works, often giving birth to new trends in European literature, which have been translated worldwide and made available to us. These eminent writers give importance to perfection of the language, as their works exude an unmistakable love for their native tongue. French literature has been influenced by the revolutionary changes that took place in politics, science, art, religion and philosophy. Famous writers like Alexandre Dumas, Gustave Flaubert and Jean-Paul Sartre have imbibed these influences in their creations. They have made their mark and held their ground amidst all the transformation that literature has undergone. We have here, a collection of biographies of some of the most famous French writers. Read on to find all about their life stories, timelines and also some interesting facts & trivia related to their lives.


Without Evidence: Executing Frances Newton

By Jordan Smith, Fri., Sept. 9, 2005

Unless the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles and Gov. Rick Perry act to stop it, on Sept. 14 Frances Newton will become only the third woman executed by the state of Texas since 1982, and the first black woman executed since the Civil War.

Unique in that historical sense, in other ways the Frances Newton case is painfully unexceptional. For there is no incontrovertible evidence against Newton, and the paltry evidence that does exist has been completely compromised. Moreover, her story is one more in a long line of Texas death row cases in which the prosecutions were sloppy or dishonest, the defenses incompetent or negligent, and the constitutional guarantee of a fair trial was honored only in name.

As Harris Co. prosecutors tell the story, the now 40-year-old Newton is a cold-blooded killer who murdered her husband and two young children inside the family's apartment outside Houston on April 7, 1987, by shooting each of them, execution-style, in order to collect life insurance. Newton had the opportunity, they argued during her 1988 trial, and a motive – a troubled relationship with her husband, Adrian, and the promise of $100,000 in insurance money from policies she'd recently taken out on his life and on the life of their 21-month-old daughter Farrah. And she had the means, they say: a .25-caliber Raven Arms pistol she had allegedly stolen from a boyfriend's house.

To the state, it is a simple, open-and-shut case, which requires no further review. "Her case has been reviewed by every possible court," Harris Co. Assistant District Attorney Roe Wilson told the Los Angeles Times in November. "She killed her two children and her husband. There is very, very strong evidence of that."

Yet despite Wilson's insistence, Newton's case isn't simple at all – and such "evidence" as there is, is far from strong. "The State's theory is simple, and it is superficially compelling," attorney David Dow, head of the Texas Innocence Network at the University of Houston Law Center, argued in Newton's clemency petition, currently pending before the Board of Pardons and Paroles. "As we will see, however, appearances can be misleading."

From the beginning, Frances Newton has maintained her innocence. She has also offered a plausible alternative theory of the crime – a theory that neither police, prosecutors, nor Newton's own trial attorney, the infamous and now suspended Ronald Mock, have ever investigated. Newton and her defenders contend that Adrian, Farrah, and 7-year-old Alton were likely murdered by someone connected to a drug dealer to whom Adrian owed $1,500. The alternative theory has much to say for it – among other things, it explains the lack of physical evidence connecting Newton to the bloody murders.

Lingering questions about the physical evidence against Newton prompted the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles to recommend, and Gov. Rick Perry to grant, a 120-day reprieve for Newton on Dec. 1, 2004 – the day she was last scheduled for execution. Although Perry said he saw no "evidence of innocence" – legally, an oxymoron – he granted the four-month stay to allow for retesting of evidence contested by Newton's defense, including nitrite residue on the hem of her skirt and gun ballistics evidence.

But testing on the skirt proved impossible, because the 1987 tests had destroyed the nitrite particles, and Harris Co. court officials had stored the skirt by sealing it inside a bag together with items of the victims' bloody clothing – thereby rendering it worthless as evidence. The second round of ballistics testing, on the other hand, supposedly confirmed a match between the gun prosecutors say Newton used and the bullets that killed her family. However, that match may be fundamentally undermined – because there is no certain connection between the gun and Newton. According to Dow, it appears that police actually recovered at least two, and perhaps three, .25-caliber Raven Arms pistols during their investigation of the murders – conflicting evidence that neither the police nor the prosecutors ever revealed to Newton's defense. Dow argues that it is virtually impossible to know whether prosecutors have been truthful in claiming that the gun that Newton admits to hiding on April 7, 1987, was the murder weapon. "How many firearms were recovered and investigated in this case and who owned them?" Dow asks in a supplemental petition filed with the BPP on Aug. 25. "How many records have been withheld from Newton's attorneys throughout this case?"

In short, there is now even more doubt about Newton's guilt than there was when she was granted the stay – distressing Newton's many defenders, among them Adrian's parents, two former prison officials, and at least one of the jurors who heard Newton's case. "We never wanted to see Frances get executed," Adrian's parents Tom and Virginia Louis wrote to the BPP on Aug. 25. "When the trial occurred, nobody from the [DA's] Office ever asked . our opinion. We were willing to testify on Frances' behalf, but Frances' defense lawyer never approached us," they continued. "We do not wish to suffer the loss of another family member."

A Bloody Crime

In the months before the murders, Frances and Adrian Newton were having marital problems. They were each involved in extramarital relationships, and Adrian was using drugs. In an Aug. 30 Gatesville prison interview, Newton told me that in addition to smoking marijuana, Adrian had developed a cocaine habit. "He had told me he was using cocaine, but I'd never seen that, but I saw the effects of it," she recalled. "He was home later, he was irritable, less responsible."

But she and Adrian had been together since she was a girl, and she was determined to work things out. That was on her mind on the afternoon of April 7, 1987, when she and Adrian sat down and talked. "We had decided that we were going to get through this together," she said. Adrian insisted that he wasn't using anymore, so when they were done talking and Adrian went into the living room "to watch TV . I decided to be nosy and see if he was being honest," she recalled. Quietly, she opened the cabinet where he kept his stash.

"That's when I found the gun," she said. Newton said she immediately recalled a conversation she'd heard earlier that day, between Adrian and his brother, Sterling, who'd been staying with the family. "I couldn't hear real close, but it sounded like they'd been in some trouble," she said. "I thought I'd better take [the gun] out of there because I didn't want it to be in the house . I didn't want him to get into any trouble." She removed the gun, placed it in a duffel bag and took it with her when she left the apartment around 6pm to run some errands, she says.

Newton says it was the last time she saw her family alive.

At 7pm, after a couple of errands, Newton arrived at her cousin Sondra Nelms' house, where the two chatted and decided to return to Newton's apartment. As Newton backed out of the drive, she saw the duffel on the back seat and realized she needed to hide it. With Nelms watching, Newton retrieved the bag and walked next door into a burned and abandoned house owned by her parents, and there (as both women later confirmed), she left the bag.

The women arrived at the apartment around 8pm, and didn't immediately realize that anything was wrong. Newton thought Adrian was napping – until she saw the blood. "As Frances walked around the couch and saw his upper torso, she immediately screamed and bolted to the children's bedroom," Nelms said in an affidavit. "Frances began to frantically scream uncontrollably. I could not calm her down enough to elicit the apartment's address."

Newton says she was shocked and dazed, but gave police as much information as possible – including the fact that she'd just removed a gun from the house. She told police about Adrian's drug habit, and that he owed some money to a dealer – which Adrian's brother, Terrence, corroborated, telling police he knew where the dealer lived. Police never pursued the lead. "To your knowledge, was the alleged drug dealer ever interviewed by anyone in connection with this case?" Newton's attorney asked Sheriff's Officer Frank Pratt at trial. "No," Pratt replied.

A bullet remained lodged in Adrian's head, meaning that the blood and brain matter would have blown back onto the gun and shooter – confirmed by a trail of blood found in the hallway. Police found no trace of residual nitrites (gunshot residue) on Newton's hands, nor on the long sleeves of the sweater she was wearing. They collected the clothing she'd worn that day. There was no blood, nor any trace of blood, on any of the items.

Which Gun?

The next day, April 8, according to trial records, police supposedly confirmed that the gun they had retrieved from Newton's duffel bag in the abandoned building – at her direction – matched the murder bullets. Yet Newton was not arrested until more than two weeks later. Newton says that Harris Co. Sheriff's Sgt. J.J. Freeze told her that police had actually recovered two guns in a sworn affidavit, Newton's father Bee Henry Nelms says Freeze told him the same thing and added that Newton would "eventually be released." Nonetheless, Newton was arrested two weeks later – after she filed a claim on Adrian and Farrah's life insurance policies – and charged with the capital murder of her 21-month-old daughter.

The state's primary evidence against her was elementary: Newton had filed for insurance benefits, and the Department of Public Safety forensic technicians had detected nitrite traces near the hem of Newton's long skirt – although they couldn't say with certainty that the nitrites were not her father's garden fertilizer transferred earlier that day from the hands of her toddler daughter. For physical evidence, the state relied primarily on the supposed ballistics match to the gun Newton had hidden.

Yet in court Freeze was somewhat vague: "I believe we talked about two pistols," he testified. "I know of one for sure, and there was mention of a second one that Ms. Newton had purchased earlier."

There are serious questions about the prosecutors' timeline, which would have required Newton somehow to murder her family, clean herself of any and all blood traces and gunshot residue, and drive to her cousin's house – all in less than 30 minutes. And since her 1988 conviction, the question of a second gun has haunted Newton's case. The ballistics evidence was increasingly suspect in any case because of the recent history of the Houston PD crime lab, which has been repeatedly charged with incompetent, shoddy work, resulting in a number of exonerations and the wholesale discrediting of the lab, which remains under investigation. The lab's clouded reputation was one factor that prompted Gov. Perry to accept the BPP's recommendation to grant Newton a reprieve last winter.

Although subsequent testing supposedly confirmed the ballistics match, the search for the second gun continued. And in June, Dow argued in Newton's clemency petition, the truth finally began to leak out, and from the most unlikely place: the Harris Co. District Attorney's Office. During a brief videotaped interview with a Dutch reporter, Assistant DA Roe Wilson inadvertently confirmed the existence of a second gun. "Police recovered a gun from the apartment that belonged to the husband," Wilson acknowledged. "[It] had not been fired, it had not been involved in the offense, " she continued. "It was simply a gun [Adrian] had there so there is no second-gun theory."

Wilson and her boss, DA Chuck Rosenthal, quickly retracted her admission. Wilson le dijo al Houston Chronicle that she'd simply "misspoken," and Rosenthal accused Dow of fabricating the idea of a second gun "out of whole cloth." "I'm very clear," Rosenthal told Los New York Times. "One gun was recovered in the case." On Aug. 24, the Court of Criminal Appeals agreed, dismissing Newton's most recent appeal. "The evidence in this case was more than sufficient to establish [Newton's] guilt," Judge Cathy Cochran wrote. "The various details that [Newton] suggests her trial counsel should have investigated in greater detail do not detract . from the single crucial piece of evidence that concerns her: she disposed of the murder weapon immediately after the killing."

Dow and his University of Houston law students persisted, and late last month may have succeeded. In August, Harris Co. investigators provided testimony that police may have recovered at least two idéntico .25-caliber Raven Arms pistols. In separate affidavits, two police investigators recall tracing firearms recovered in connection with the murders. Officer Frank Pratt told one of Dow's students that he was assigned a gun found in the abandoned house, which he traced to a purchase by Newton's boyfriend's cousin at a local Montgomery Ward. He also discovered, he told student Frances Zeon, that the purchaser had also bought a "second, identical gun" but he didn't follow up on the second gun, because "he felt there was no need to do so." Pratt said he'd written up a report on the gun – a report Newton's attorneys have never seen.

However, Newton's attorneys do have a police report written by Detective M. Parinello, who reported he had traced yet another firearm recovered in connection with the case to a purchase from Rebel Distributors in Humble, Texas, which he said also ended up with Newton's boyfriend. "The question arises: what recovered firearm was . Pratt investigating?" asks the clemency petition. "Counsel does not have access to the Harris Co. Sheriff's Department's records in this case. A request made directly to that institution for all records in connection to its investigation of this offense was rejected."

From all this conflicting yet incomplete gun evidence, it seems reasonable to surmise that there is no way to know which gun was in fact the murder weapon, or which gun was delivered for ballistics tests in 1987 or this year. Since the prosecution relied so heavily on a weapon that Newton herself had delivered to them, the new evidence discovered by her attorneys completely undermines her conviction.

At press time, Harris Co. Sheriff's Office spokesman Lt. John Martin was not able to reach Parinello or Pratt for comment but said that a captain who worked the Newton case had said there was only one gun recovered during the investigation. Harris Co. DA Chuck Rosenthal reiterated that, "as far as I know" there was only one gun recovered in the case. However, he said that even if investigators had recovered multiple firearms, and even if each were the same brand and caliber, the fact remains that the weapon investigators recovered from the abandoned house, which was immediately "tagged" and "tested," matched the bullets recovered from the victims. "Let's say, for conjecture's sake, that you ran down 50 or 100 guns, all associated with the case," he said. "The fact [is] that only one fired the bullets and that we know where that gun came from."

Criminal Defense

As in many Texas capital cases, a large part of the problem with Newton's appeals is that her court-appointed trial attorney, Ron Mock, never actually investigated her case. If he had, perhaps he would've followed up the drug dealer lead or Freeze's reported comments about a second gun. Newton and her parents implored the trial judge to allow her to change attorneys, and Mock admitted to the judge that he hadn't talked to any prosecution witnesses, nor had he subpoenaed any defense witness. The judge granted the motion to remove Mock but he declined a continuance, leaving Newton little choice but to go to trial with Mock. "It was stunning," she told me. "[Mock gets on the stand and] says, 'I don't know anything,' and for the judge to just dismiss it . it was stunning." (Mock has since been brought before the State Bar's disciplinary board at least five times on various charges of professional misconduct, for which he has been fined and sometimes suspended he is currently suspended from practicing law until late 2007.)

The Harris Co. prosecutors' defense of the conviction has also worn thin, especially given Roe Wilson's supposed "misstatement" about the second gun. To Newton's mother, Jewel Nelms, Wilson's admission is no mistake. "I've known all the time that there was a second gun," she told Houston's KPFT radio last month. "So I want to say again, to Roe Wilson, I thank you . very much for letting us know, indeed, that there's somebody down there that knows about the second gun and was willing to talk about it – even though I know it wasn't her intention to do it."

Newton's clemency petition is still pending before the Board of Pardons and Paroles. On Monday, Sept. 6, her attorneys filed a petition with the state district court in Houston and the Court of Criminal Appeals, claiming that the state's failure to disclose evidence of a second gun violated her right to due process. At press time, Gov. Perry's office had received more than 4,000 letters, faxes, e-mails, and postcards regarding Newton's impending execution – most imploring Perry to commute her death sentence to life in prison. Letters about Newton's bid should be addressed to: The Honorable Rick Perry, Office of the Governor, PO Box 12428, Austin, 78711-2428 and to Chairwoman Rissie Owens, Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles, Executive Clemency Unit, PO Box 13401, Austin, 78711.

A note to readers: Bold and uncensored, The Austin Chronicle has been Austin’s independent news source for almost 40 years, expressing the community’s political and environmental concerns and supporting its active cultural scene. Now more than ever, we need your support to continue supplying Austin with independent, free press. If real news is important to you, please consider making a donation of $5, $10 or whatever you can afford, to help keep our journalism on stands.


Heritage and Main Sites of the Alsace region

Although not well-known to tourists the Alsace region is worth a visit for its numerous picturesque villages of half-timbered houses with geranium-filled window-boxes, Romanesque and Gothic churches and fortified castles. A clever mix of German and French cultures, this beautiful and enchanting area is home of many sights to discover:

The Alsace Wine Route

The main street of Riquewihr © French Moments

The scenic Alsace Wine Route is 170 kilometres long and was inaugurated in 1953. It criss-crosses through the Alsatian vineyards from north to south from Marlenheim to Thann. Several cities and villages along the Alsace Wine Route have become famous and attract a very large crowd of visitors during the summer months and Christmas where they have beautiful Christmas Markets. These villages are gems of the wine country and often comprise old medieval ramparts, winding alleyways that bloom with magnificent geraniums, winstubs, half-timbered houses and medieval churches. Many town names have become synonymous with rich traditions, friendliness, prosperity and great wines. These include Obernai, Dambach-la-Ville, Ribeauvillé, Riquewihr, Kaysersberg, and Eguisheim. Find out more about the Alsace Wine Route.

The Route des Crêtes of the Vosges

Grand Ballon in the Vosges © French Moments

Sublime countryside, panoramic views extending to the distant Alps and riding on the hills, the Route des Crêtes in the Vosges is continues the reputation of the Wine Route, a reputed and highly frequented tourist itinerary during the summer period.

The road follows a ridgeline route of 80km, linking the towns of Thann to Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines. Throughout its course, it is sometimes in Lorraine and sometimes in Alsace. Symbolically, the Route des Crêtes marks the border between Lorraine and Alsace, between the Romance and Germanic language worlds. At each mountainside, the road travels along bucolic countrysides, opening up views of mountain passes, rounded mountains, lakes, rocks, pastures and forests of majestic pines. Find out more about the Route des Crêtes des Vosges.

The Sundgau

The little town of Ferrette under the snow © French Moments

Located between the Plain of Alsace, the Rhine River, the Vosges and the Jura mountains, the Sundgau region has its own distinctive geographic character. The hilly region is covered with pine, beech and oak woods, orchards, pastures, fields and ponds filled with carp, dotted with a multitude of wealthy villages. Like the rest of France, only the spire of the parish church signals the presence of colourful and elegant villages between two hills. Find out more about the Sundgau.

Churches and castles

Saint-Theobald collegiate church, Thann © French Moments

In spite of consecutive wars between Germany and France which have severely affected Alsace, the region has been able to protect its rich heritage of churches and castles. Some of them have benefited from more recent renovations undertaken by the Conseil Général of Bas-Rhin or Haut-Rhin.

The touristic itinerary Route Romane d’Alsace (Romanesque Road of Alsace) links the region’s best examples of Romanesque architecture in Alsace.

Alsace’s most famous churches are:

  • Romanesque: churches in Feldbach, Guebwiller, Kaysersberg, Marmoutier, Murbach, Neuwiller-les-Saverne, Ottmarsheim, Sélestat, Sigolsheim, Strasbourg, Wissembourg.
  • Gothic: cathedral of Strasbourg, collegiates of Colmar and Thann, churches in Niederhaslach, Ribeauvillé, Rouffach, Sélestat, Strasbourg.
  • Baroque: Altorf, Ebersmunster.

Alsace is one of the regions of France that has retained the most medieval castles. More than 500 are situated here, mostly distributed from north to south, in the foothills of the Vosges. Even if they are for the most part in ruins, their silhouettes, perched at the top of the Vosges Mountains, have been a part of the countryside for centuries, thus defying time. As in previous times, these castles still seem to dominate the Alsace Plain even today, watching over the Vosges valleys, communication channels and sometimes the abbeys.

Some castles still have a great reputation and are in good condition, with their imposing ruins evoking respect and admiration. This is especially true for the castles of Haut-Andlau, the Three castles of Ribeauvillé (Saint Ulrich, Girsberg, Haut-Ribeaupierre), Hohlandsbourg (overlooking Colmar), the Three castles of Éguisheim and Haut-Andlau.

The castle of Haut-Kœnigsbourg overlooking the Plain of Alsace © French Moments

The Haut-Kœnigsbourg castle is one of the most visited tourist locations in France, with nearly 500,000 visitors each year. Perched at 747 metres high, it dominates the Rhineland Plain, over looking all the roads leading to Lorraine or crossing Alsace. It was greatly restored between 1901 to 1908 under the orders of Kaiser William II, a great admirer of medieval romanticism.

In the northern Vosges still stand the important ruins of a few castles: Falkenstein, Old Winstein, New Windstein, and Fleckenstein.

To the south of Alsace, three ruined castles can be visited: Ferrette, Landskron and Morimont.

Palaces were built by the influential Rohan dynasty in the 18th century on the plain: the château des Rohan in Saverne and the palais Rohan in Strasbourg.

Museos

Decorative Arts Museum, Palais-Rohan, Strasbourg © French Moments

The Alsace region is home to some museums that enjoy great fame throughout Europe:

  • The Musée d’Art Moderne et Contemporain de Strasbourg (MAMCS, Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art), Strasbourg.
  • The Musée d’Unterlinden (Unterlinden Museum), Colmar.
  • The Cité de l’Automobile (the National Automobile Museum), Mulhouse.
  • The Musée français du chemin de fer (French national railway museum), Mulhouse.
  • The Écomusée d’Alsace (Alsace Ecomuseum), Ungersheim.

Sites of Remembrance

Due to a rich but tormented history, there are places which evoke ancient traditions as well as sites that commemorate memories of a more recent past:

  • The summits of the Vosges: Grand-Ballon, Ballon d’Alsace, Hohneck, Champs du Feu, Donon.
  • The Mount St. Odile (the convent and the Pagan Wall) near Obernai.
  • The Hartmannswillerkopf, also known as the Vieil Armand, trenches and national monuments of World War I above Cernay in the Vosges.
  • The Natzweiler-Struthof, a former Nazi concentration camp in the Vosges near Schirmeck.
  • The European District in Strasbourg, headquarters of several international institutions.

National Quilt Collection

"Quilt": A cover or garment made by putting wool, cotton or other substance between two cloths and sewing them together. An American Dictionary of the English Language, by Noah Webster, LL.D., New York 1828.

The National Quilt Collection incorporates quilts from various ethnic groups and social classes, for quilts are not the domain of a specific race or class, but can be a part of anyone’s heritage and treasured as such. Whether of rich or humble fabrics, large in size or small, expertly crafted or not, well-worn or pristine, quilts in the National Quilt Collection provide a textile narrative that contributes to America’s complex and diverse history. The variety and scope of the collection provides a rich resource for researchers, artists, quilt-makers and others.

Part of the Division of Home and Community Life textiles collection, the National Quilt Collection had its beginnings in the 1890s. Three quilts were included in a larger collection of 18th- and 19th-century household and costume items donated by John Brenton Copp of Stonington, Connecticut. From this early beginning, the collection has grown to more than 500 quilts and quilt-related items, mainly of American origin, with examples from many states, including Alaska and Hawaii. Most of the contributions have come to the Museum as gifts, and many of those are from the quilt-makers’ families. The collection illustrates needlework techniques, materials, fabric designs and processes, styles and patterns used for quilt-making in the past 250 years. The collection also documents the work of specific quilt-makers and commemorates events in American history.

Learn more about the quilt collection and step behind the scenes with a video tour.


Ver el vídeo: TrinityTalk Profiles - Crystal Roe,. (Enero 2022).