DUANE
Duane's take
The official marker's the authority here, and I'm just the voice that brings it to life — so let me tell you what it says about the burial site of John S. Chisum. Now, if you're drivin' through Lamar County and you think cattle barons only belong to west Texas or New Mexico, this marker's got something to say about that.
Because John S. Chisum — born in 1824, died in 1884 — started his story right here in the east, and what a story it turned out to be. He came from Tennessee to Paris — Paris, Texas, that is — back in 1837.
And for a while, that was home. But a man like Chisum wasn't built to stay put. In 1854, he joined up with a fellow named S.
K. Fowler in a cattle venture over in Denton County, and that partnership was the first step on a very long trail. Then the Civil War came.
Chisum supplied beef to Confederate troops west of the Mississippi, and while that was going on, his cowboys were out guardin' the frontier against Indians. The man was runnin' an operation on multiple fronts at once — which, as it turns out, was something he was unusually gifted at. In 1864 he moved to the Concho River.
Then to a place called Bosque Grande on the Pecos. And finally, in 1873, he planted his spread at South Spring near Roswell, New Mexico. Each move pushing further west, each step grander than the last.
His herds — and here's where you sit up a little straighter — numbered somewhere between sixty thousand and one hundred thousand head. Sixty. Thousand.
To one hundred thousand. Those animals pounded trails across Texas and into New Mexico, and the ground remembered every one of them. Now, Charles Goodnight — famous cattleman, onetime partner of Chisum himself — paid the man one of the finer compliments in the cattle business.
Goodnight said Chisum could correctly tally three grades of moving cattle at once, and that he was the best counter he knew. Think about that next time you try to count change in a hurry. Chisum also had a way of protecting his stock that was, well, hard to argue with.
His brand was called the Long Rail. His ear-notch was called the Jinglebob. And the marker says plainly: those marks defied alteration.
You couldn't fake 'em. You couldn't hide 'em. In a world where cattle theft was practically a profession, that was no small thing.
His name, though — his name caused him a different kind of trouble. People kept confusing John S. Chisum with Jesse Chisholm, the blazer of part of the historic Texas-to-Kansas cattle trail.
Two different men, two different names spelled two different ways, and history still gets them tangled up on occasion. The marker makes the distinction. I'm makin' it too.
And then came the unraveling. A disastrous packing house deal. Involvement in the 1876 Lincoln County War, where Billy the Kid and various cattle factions figured into the fighting.
Ultimately, the marker says, these things led to Chisum's financial ruin. A man who'd built one of the greatest cattle spreads in the west, brought low by the very world he'd helped build. He died in 1884.
And his burial site sits here in Lamar County — back east, close to where he'd first arrived from Tennessee as a boy. There's something in that geography worth sitting with for a mile or two down the road.
What the marker says
(1824-1884) Cattle baron whose herds, moving from east to west Texas and into New Mexico, expanded into one of the greatest cattle spreads in the west. Coming from Tennessee to Paris, 1837, Chisum joined S. K. Fowler in a cattle venture in Denton County, 1854. During the Civil War, he supplied beef to Confederate troops west of the Mississippi and his cowboys guarded the frontier against Indians. After moving in 1864 to the Concho River, then to "Bosque Grande" on the Pecos, he finally located his spread at South Spring near Roswell, New Mexico, 1873. His enormous herds-- 60,000 to 100,000 head-- pounded trails across Texas into New Mexico. His name and fame led to confusion with Jesse Chisholm, blazer of part of the historic Texas-to-Kansas cattle trail. Chisum's onetime partner, famous cattleman Charles Goodnight, said that Chisum, who could correctly tally three grades of moving cattle at once, was the best counter he knew. Chisum's distinctive "Long Rail" brand and "Jinglebob" ear-notch defied alteration. A disastrous packing house deal and involvement in the 1876 "Lincoln County War," in which Billy the Kid and various cattle factions figured, ultimately led to Chisum's financial ruin.