Eastland

Duane's take

Here's how the official marker tells it, and I wouldn't change a word — well, maybe a few. Now, every county seat's got a story, but Eastland, Texas? Eastland's got layers.

Let's start at the name itself, because the man behind it earned it the hard way. William M. Eastland was a hero of the Texas War for Independence — that much alone would've been enough for most men.

But William M. Eastland wasn't most men. He rode with the Mier Expedition against Mexico, and when that venture went sideways, the prisoners were made to draw beans from a pot.

White beans meant you lived. Black beans meant you didn't. William M.

Eastland drew a black bean. He was executed at Rancho Salado in 1842. So when they named this county, this seat of justice and commerce, after a man — they named it after one who literally drew the short straw and faced it.

That's the foundation this whole story is built on. Now the land itself had other ideas about who belonged here. The most noted early local people, the marker tells us, were the Comanches, who resisted occupation of the area by white settlers.

That resistance was real and it was sustained. The last recorded Indian raid in the county came in 1874. One year later — August 2, 1875 — Eastland was named county seat in an election.

The town was staking its claim. By June 6, 1891, Eastland had 250 people and enough ambition to incorporate. A man named W.Q.

Connellee was elected its first mayor. Two hundred and fifty people. Remember that number, because things are about to get a little out of hand.

In 1917, somebody stuck a drill in the ground nearby and found oil. Now, Texas oil booms are their own species of chaos, but this one was fabled — that's the marker's word, and fabled is exactly right. Wells were flowing at ten thousand barrels a day.

Oil was priced at two dollars and sixty cents a barrel. Do that arithmetic in your head if you like, and then picture the wagons and the wildcatters and the lawyers all descending on Eastland, because Eastland became the center for legal matters in the middle of all of it. The city grew to twenty-five thousand people.

Five banks prospered. Two hundred and fifty people to twenty-five thousand — and the town didn't even blink. Who came rolling in with the roughnecks and the roustabouts, seekin' that black gold?

Evangelist Billy Sunday. Circus owner John Ringling. Sports figures Jess Willard and Tex Rickard.

Celebrities, the marker calls them, and they came here — to Eastland, Texas — chasing the same thing everybody else was. But here's where the story takes a turn that no oil boom, no election, no famous face could ever top. When they laid the cornerstone of the old courthouse — right here on this very site — it was July 19, 1897.

Among the mementoes placed inside was a horned toad. A live horned toad. Nobody thought much of it, probably.

Just a bit of local color tucked into a time capsule. Then came 1928. The old courthouse cornerstone was opened.

And inside — thirty-one years later — out came Old Rip. Alive. A horned toad, placed in that stone in 1897, surviving the darkness and the decades, blinking in the light of 1928.

The marker calls it an international wonder-story, and that is not an exaggeration. The world heard about Old Rip. Today, Eastland's economy runs on continuing oil production, agricultural processing, and clay products.

Solid, steady, real. But this is a town named for a man who drew the black bean and didn't flinch. A town that went from 250 souls to 25,000 almost overnight.

A town where a horned toad outlasted a courthouse. Eastland doesn't do ordinary. Never really did.

What the marker says

County seat, Eastland County. Named for William M. Eastland--Texas War for Independence hero who was in Mier Expedition against Mexico, and was executed in "Black Bean" lottery at Rancho Salado in 1842. Most noted early local people were Comanches, who resisted occupation of area by white settlers. The last recorded Indian raid in county was in 1874. Eastland was named county seat in an election on Aug. 2, 1875. With 250 people it was incorporated on June 6, 1891, and W.Q. Connellee was elected as mayor. After a discovery in 1917, one of the fabled oil booms of Texas occurred nearby, with Eastland center for legal matters. With oil priced $2.60 a barrel, many wells flowed at 10,000 barrels a day. The city quickly grew to 25,000 people; 5 banks prospered. Coming here to seek "black gold" were celebrities, including evangelist Billy Sunday, circus owner John Ringling, sports figures Jess Willard, Tex Rickard. An international wonder-story happened here: the old courthouse cornerstone was opened (on this site) in 1928 to reveal survival of "Old Rip", a horned toad placed there with other mementoes on July 19, 1897. Continuing oil production, agricultural processing and clay products bolster the present economy. (1968)