DUANE
Duane's take
The marker at Commerce Street Bridge is where I'm drawing this one from — let me tell it like it deserves. Now if you wanted to find the beating heart of San Antonio, you could do a lot worse than start right here, at the crossing between San Fernando de Bexar — the city — and San Antonio de Valero, the Alamo. This river crossing has long been a focal point of history, and friend, that is not an overstatement.
Consider what happened at its footbridge on February 23, 1836. The Texas War for Independence was not some distant rumble on the horizon — it was arriving, right here, right now. Alamo emissary Albert Martin came to this very spot to parley with Santa Anna's aide, Juan Almonte.
Two men at a footbridge, words instead of bullets — for the moment. Six years later, in 1842, Mayor John W. Smith employed R.
T. Higginbotham to build a wooden bridge across this crossing. Practical.
Necessary. And apparently worth painting, because in 1854, artist Herman Lungwitz set up and captured the scene on canvas. The 1850s brought world travelers through here — Frederick Olmsted and William Bollaert both wrote about this bridge and this river, noting what locals already knew: the river was an asset to the city then, and it remains one now.
Southern author Sidney Lanier, noted in his own right, made this a favorite spot during the time he lived here. Then came the 1870s, and somebody in charge decided the bridge needed a sign. Not one sign — three.
One in English, one in Spanish, one in German, each aimed squarely at its intended audience. Now here is where it gets instructive about human nature. The German-speaking Teutons, apparently considered law-abiding folk, got the message delivered brusquely — almost rudely: Schnelles Reiten Uber Dise Brucke Is Verboten.
Fast riding over this bridge is forbidden. Short. Sharp.
Done. Mexicans received something with a little more texture: Anda Despacio Con Su Caballo, O Teme La Ley. Go slowly with your horse, or fear the law.
A warning wrapped in a suggestion of consequences. And the Anglo-Americans? Well.
Whoever wrote these signs understood their audience. Appeals to authority wouldn't move them. Fear of the law wasn't going to do it either.
So they went straight for the wallet: Walk your horse over the bridge or you will be fined. No poetry. No atmosphere.
Just money on the line. Three languages. Three approaches.
One bridge. It tells you something about this crossing that it became the place where a whole city's ethnic divisions got written down in wood and posted for every rider to read. The present bridge replaced an 1880 iron structure.
Different materials, same crossing, same river bending through the same city. And when you stand on it today, you are standing on something the marker puts plainly: a span of two hundred and fifty years of recorded history. That's a long memory for a bridge.
But then, some places earn it.
What the marker says
The main ford between San Fernando de Bexar (the city) and San Antonio de Valero (the Alamo), this river crossing has long been a focal point of history. At its footbridge on Feb 23, 1836, Alamo emissary Albert Martin met to parley with Santa Anna's aide, Juan Almonte, during the Texas War for Indepedence. Mayor John W. Smith empoyed R. T. Higginbotham to build a wooden bridge in 1842. The scene was painted by artist Herman Lungwitz in 1854. In the 1850s the bridge and river (then as now an asset to the city) were described by world travelers Frederick Olmsted and William Bollaert. It was a favorite spot of noted southern author Sidney Lanier while he lived here. A sign in English, Spanish, and German recognizing the local ethnic population division was placed on the bridge in the 1870s. Law-abiding Teutons were told brusquely, "Schnelles Reiten Uber Dise Brucke Is Verboten". Mexicans however, were warned, "Anda Despacio Con Su Caballo, O Teme La Ley", while Anglo-Americans, unlikely to truckle to authority or fear the law, had their pocketbooks threatened: "Walk your horse over the bridge or you will be fined." Present bridge replaces an 1880 iron structure. Linking old and new, it spans 250 years of recorded history. (1971)