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/ Home / Travel & Touring /
Ghost Ride
Ghost Ride into History
Don Bouchard
10/01/2005
Don Bouchard
Don Bouchard

The intervening decades seem to melt away, and I can almost see James Walker Fannin Jr., colonel in the Texas army, escorted from the double front doors of the old mission church to face execution at the hands of the Mexican army. It was 169 years ago that his captors led Fannin, 32 years old, to a chair on this spot, where today the grass doesn’t seem to grow. Shot in the thigh during battle the previous week, he hobbles, assisted by one of his men, and is ordered to sit. I imagine that Fannin can’t help but notice the stark contrast between his own bloodied, ragged clothing—half uniform, half gentleman’s dress—and the ornate, brilliantly hued regalia of his executioner, Colonel José Nicolás de la Portilla.

(Click image to enlarge)
Fannin removes from his waistcoat a gold watch and offers it to Portilla, requesting a few courtesies routinely afforded officers at the time: that his executioners forbear from shooting him in the face, that his personal belongings be given to his family, and that he be given a proper burial. A blindfold, carefully folded from Fannin’s own handkerchief, cuts off his vision for the last time; I watch in my mind’s eye as Portilla orders the muskets closer, firing into Fannin’s face and chest. The Texan falls from his chair to the ground, dead. Portilla’s troops loot Fannin’s possessions and carry his body to a pile, with those of his massacred troops: Despite surrender, all have been executed as pirates, by order of General Santa Anna. I close my eyes and slowly turn around the small courtyard between the church and the walls of the fort, seeing, through closed eyelids, the horror on the faces of onlookers and Portilla’s own troops at such barbarism and dishonor.

I have been transported to this place—169 years and 245 miles away from home—by my Harley-Davidson time machine. I am uncommonly lucky to call Texas—with its varied history—home, and I have many opportunities for H.G. Wells–style jaunts through time and geography. They require little planning or packing and fit nicely into a weekend.

 
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