Treasures of the Texas Collection
Frances C. Poage Map Collection
Hi, I’m your host Robert Darden, an associate professor of Journalism, PR & New
Media at Baylor University. Welcome to Treasures of the Texas Collection. One of
the hidden treasures of The Texas Collection at Baylor University is its one-of-akind map collection – all kinds of maps, some hundreds and hundreds of years old.
In 2010-2011, the Texas Collection began showcasing 21 maps that guide the
viewer through 231 years of discovery and chartering, showing how our country’s
boundaries and geography came to be documented.
Freelance writer Corley Sims paid a visit to The Texas Collection specifically to
see these maps … and hear the fascinating stories behind this invaluable resource.
Welcome, Corley! Tell us about this collection.
Thank you, Robert. Well, the exhibition highlights the cartography of Texas and
the Western half of the United States, following the exploration, miscalculations,
and eventual rapid colonization of these areas.
1
The back of a Houston and Texas Central Railway map, one of the concluding
pieces of this showcase, entices colonizers to settle in Texas, a territory that had
been juggled between major powers, gained its independence, and then finally
come to rest as a member of the U.S. The advertisement boasts of a “rich and
inexhaustible soil,” saying that “not even fertile France surpasses the Empire State
in the character of her production.” Every “product known to the use of mankind
can be grown” in the “salubrious” and “healthful” climate of the state of Texas.
Those of us who have actually attempted farming in the state of Texas can agree
that the article perhaps exaggerated the lusciousness of the grounds and the
promise of flourishing produce.
Still, the map – and its accompanying ad – had its desired effect, right?
Right. This advertisement marked a dramatic change in the world’s view of a state
whose interior puzzled geographers for years. The state was now not only charted,
but major railway systems ran through evolving Texas cities. The map
advertisement claimed that “the empire state” only needed an industrious
population to reach its promising potential.
However, this map is only the end of a long journey through American
cartography.
Correct. The collection begins at a time when Texas and the southwest puzzled
cartographers. The western United States was a mysterious and often misstated
territory: for a long period mapmakers convinced the world that California was an
island; sometimes an honest “unexplored territory” title appeared over a white
space in the Western hemisphere. With no satellites or advanced technology,
explorers were forced to live up to their name and chart the territory as they found
it with their own eyes, sometimes consulting the top authorities, or sometimes,
constrained by rumors and the work of their predecessors, plotting their versions of
the United States. Between the inaccuracies brought on by the explorers and their
predecessors’ personal miscalculations, those traveling by word of mouth, and the
frequent change of territory lines as the major powers scuffled, it was quite a while
before the maps began to accurately reflect the present layout of the U.S.
I believe the first map featured in the Texas Collection is particularly rare.
It is. Le Nouveau Mexique et La Floride, was a map created by Nicolas Sanson
d’Abbeville, who was named Royal Geographer to King Louis XIII. During the
3
17th century the Dutch handed over its monopoly of European cartography to the
French, and Sanson rose as France’s major geographic pioneer. One of the most
notable features in this French map is the beautiful and elaborate “cartouche” that
encases the map’s title, the cartographer’s name, and the date. It is comparable to
a coat of arms, a very elegant border with intricate designs used to showcase the
map’s information. The word “cartouche” originated in Ancient Egypt and
indicated that a royal name was enclosed in its borders. The cartouche later spread
to the world of mapmaking and became a garnishing staple of Italian, Spanish, and
French maps. The cartouche on this particular map shows large ribbons holding up
a draping, tasseled curtain with the words written inside.
I suppose, at that early date, there was the odd inaccuracy here and there.
Right. Several geographic misrepresentations are present on this early map, the
most obvious being the “Californie Isle.” The name itself announces the flaw:
California is represented as an island completely severed from the rest of the
country by a stretch of water and a few islands. Prior Dutch maps, such as Jan
Jansson’s America Septentrionalis, also represented California as an island, leading
us to believe that Sanson had come to this conclusion on the basis of those who
came before him. However, Sanson expanded on Jansson’s idea by adding
geographic elaboration to the north and interior coastal lines of this island.
Another geographical flaw in this map is the placement of the Appalachian
mountains.
Ouch. Mountains are a little harder to misplace.
The mountains in this map begin on the lower east coast and arc over what is now
the Deep South before plunging into present-day Texas. The lack of geographic
detailing in Texas and the Northwest, including the misplaced Appalachians,
indicate that little was known about these areas. The interior of Texas and
California, along with the Northwest part of the country are almost completely
white, except for a few rivers snaking from the coasts. The Spanish had not yet
colonized the state of Texas, so Sanson had very little to work off of. Though
major geographic features such as the Mississippi River are absent from the
Southwest, Sanson is renowned for his identification of Indian tribes such as the
“Navajo” and the “Apache.” These names are marked in the central and
northwestern parts of the map.
5
Sanson is important in other ways – which makes this map all the more valuable.
Right. The school of cartography that Nicolas Sanson established in Paris allowed
France to make tremendous strides in geographic study and dominate mapmaking
for decades. The creator of the following map in the collection was Guillaume de
L’Isle, whose father had been a pupil at Sanson’s institution. As opposed to the
preceding Dutch cartographer’s mindset, the French did not feel obligated to fill
undiscovered territory with decoration or guesswork. They were unashamed to
leave a void in uncharted territories, relying only on personal exploration and the
most accurate authorities of the time. This dedication to accuracy was shared by
most of the French mapmakers, and therefore a trend of open white space became a
common means of indicating unknown territories.
However, by the time Guillaume de L’Isle published his map Carte du Mexique et
de la Floride in 1703, there was less white space on his map of the United States
and Central America. The Appalachian Mountains were placed almost in their
rightful place, lining the east coast, and the Rio Grande appears and begins to
define the shape of Texas as we know it today. Though the Mississippi River for
the first time is accurately portrayed, many other rivers snaking in from the coast
were inaccurately plotted. The only portion of this map that remains completely
void of markings is the Northwest, where the cartouche rests on a completely blank
top left corner of the map.
Fascinating. Tell us about another treasure in this collection.
Certainly one of the most striking maps on the walls of the Texas Collection is
Alexander von Humboldt’s Cart Generale du Royaume de la Nouvelle Espagne.
This map was regarded as one of the most scientifically advanced works of
cartography seen yet, partially due to Humbolt’s attention to topographical
features. His manner of depicting geographical features, especially mountain
ranges and other elevations, was certainly the most advanced method seen yet in
the collection. Humbolt employed a technique called hachure, in which the
illustrator uses short line segments to represent different elevations and slopes.
More concentrated strokes indicate steeper slopes and gentler slopes are depicted
by thinner lines. Humbolt’s depiction of mountains therefore was of ranges rather
than the filed singular mountains employed by L’Isle and Sanson. The popular
practice of copper engraving in this period allowed very detailed hachures to be
easily transferred to replica maps.
And, Humbolt did his homework.
7
To prepare for the creation of this map, Humbolt completed a five-year expedition
to the New World, where he researched the territory he would map in 1809. After
visiting libraries and archives in New Spain and consulting Mexican authorities,
Humbolt created what was considered one of the most extensive and accurate
topographical maps created yet. However, there were still major errors in his
depiction of the Texas area. The rivers that deposited into the Gulf of Mexico
were inaccurately shown as plummeting almost directly South, instead of winding
down in a Southeasterly direction. The Brazos was significantly understated in
scale, and the Guadalupe Mountains were placed east of the Pecos. His
misplacement of the Guadalupe range was accepted and copied by travelers and
mapmakers long after this map was printed.
Your next cartographer has one of my favorite names in all of American history –
Zebulon Montgomery Pike.
It does trip off the tongue, doesn’t it? Unlike the cartographers who have so far
appeared in this collection, Zebulon Montgomery Pike had not been extensively
trained in cartography nor was he particularly a man of science when he embarked
on his expedition. Pike, a 27-year-old lieutenant, was ordered to explore the
Arkansas and Red Rivers with specific instructions to find the sources of the rivers.
In 1810, Pike’s recount of his discoveries, one of the first detailed accounts written
in English, was published along with his map, A Map of the Internal Provinces of
New Spain. Shortly after the piece was published in Philadelphia, Humbolt, our
previous cartographer, accused Zebulon of plagiarizing his own map without
giving credit. While Zebulon likely had access to his predecessor’s map in
America and many portions of his map mimic Humbolt’s geographical
representations, Pike’s depiction of Texas was overall superior. Zebulon’s personal
expedition and his consultation with New Spain’s authorities rendered new and
more accurate findings in Texas. The rivers that Humbolt had shown as flowing
directly South had been corrected to their true placement, and the Brazos River -which Humbolt had portrayed as merely a minor stream -- and other major rivers
were not plotted perfectly, but certainly more accurately than previous attempts.
I guess the maps got better in the years that followed.
As we move into later maps, the East Coast becomes heavily occupied and
accurate state borders and coastal features appear. The west, which had been such
a looming sparsely charted area, now transforms into a territory of possibilities for
9
new settlers. Traveling roads begin to appear and the titles of the collection’s maps
change from “New Spain” to the “United States.”
The western portion of the United States became a cartographical priority, as the
future was sure to hold promising opportunities. In response, the controlling
powers began to scramble for authority in these parts.
And America starts demanding better maps.
Right. It was around this time that America rose to the cartography standards of
their European competitors and Philadelphia became a major location for the
drawing and printing of maps. This movement was largely influenced by John
Melish, who seized the opportunity to provide greater knowledge of the Western
front and created one of the most popular maps of the U.S. This map that would be
highly influential, and controversial, in later land treaties.
One such negotiation was the Adams-Onis Treaty of 1819, in which Spain
relinquished control of Florida to the U.S and an official border was established
between the two powers. In exchange for Florida, the U.S allowed control of
Texas to pass over to Spain. However the boundaries were unclear. The
diplomatic leaders of the time relied heavily on John Melish’s Map of the United
States to divide the territory. The negotiating powers decided that the Western
Louisiana border would run from the mouth of the Sabine River and carry along its
Western Bank. This border was accurately placed on Melish’s map and still
serves as the border between Louisiana and Texas today.
However, the northern border, which was supposed to run west along the Arkansas
River, was largely disputed long after the treaty due to a miscalculation in Melish’s
plotting. Melish had indicated that the Arkansas River was 240 miles north of its
actual location. He also failed to correctly place the 90th meridian which defines
the Texas panhandle, an error that would only be concluded after an 1896 Supreme
Court decision.
Drat! I hate it when I miss my mark by 240 miles. Guys just hate to ask for
directions.
In 1841, cartographer John Arrowsmith released the most up-to-date map of the
newly independent Texas published in his London Atlas. This map was one of the
first maps showcasing an accurate Republic of Texas. The map showed traveling
routes to the new city of Houston and enticed settlers with labels reading “valuable
11
land” and “delightful country.” These hand-written descriptions scrawled between
the geography were indicators of the evolving interest in this new state and the
resulting demand for traveling information. The map not only includes travel
advice and detailed labeling of rivers and landmarks, but also the names of Indian
tribes and their dwellings and titles such as “Droves of Wild Horses and Cattle.”
Texas remains in its Republic shape until 1850, with its western border following
the Rio Grande north, extending its boundaries into present-day New Mexico. The
maps following Texas’ adoption of this new shape show counties and communities
flourishing, especially in the eastern portion of the state.
Attention in Texas maps begins to focus on railway systems and mail routes, and
traveling companies are urging settlers to find a home in this state and utilize their
transportation. Texas and Houston railway companies began teaming up with
major traveling agencies and offering reduced trips to and from Texas.
And this is where the advertisers step in…
One advertisement at the end of the collection announces, “For the purpose of
settling up the state of Texas, the Houston and Texas Railway Company has, in
connection with the above named Steamship Companies, placed in effect greatly
reduced rates from all prominent places in Great Britain, Ireland and Continental
Europe to all points in Texas, to which the railway is tributary.”
And when these settlers arrive, for the first time, there will be accurate maps to get
them where they’re going in this great state! Thank you, Corley, for sharing
another treasure of the Texas Collection.
Thank you, Robert.
My pleasure, Corley.
OK, while we’re speaking of maps, here’s a story about someone who put Waco
on the map. His name was Samuel Blythe Price … better known as “Sammy” …
and boy! could he play the piano! Here’s just a snippet of Sammy Price playing:
INSERT “Harlem Parlor Blues” HERE
Love that stuff! For more than 50 years, Price was one of the top pianists,
composers, arrangers in the U.S. – if not the world. He was the master of a host of
13
genres: boogie-woogie, swing, jump blues, gospel blues, early rhythm & blues, and
that particularly Manhattan sub-genre, piano blues.
Price was loved and acclaimed in the African-American music community in the
first half of the 20th century, recording on his own, mostly with the boppin’ Sammy
Price Trio, and many, many more sides as an arranger/writer with top AfricanAmerican artists of the day, including Sidney Bechet. One legendary session in the
early 1940s featured famed sax man Lester Young.
But if Sammy Price had never played a note of jazz or jump blues, he’d still be
important. His autobiography of turn-of-the-century African American life in a
mid-sized Texas town is an invaluable resource to historians everywhere.
In What Do They Want? A Jazz Autobiography, Sammy writes that he was born on
October 6, 1908 in Honey Grove, Texas. But at a very young age, the family
moved to Waco, where his father found work at the Brazos Bakery – at $6 a week.
Living on the old Corsicana Road in East Waco, Sammy tells of an idyllic
childhood, roaming the city, always returning to their small house, now over-run
with grandparents and aunts and uncles. At one point he writes:
“To mention Waco was like talking about heaven. As far as I was concerned, going
to Waco, I was going to the biggest city on earth. I mean, I thought that if it rained
in Waco, it rained in the next county, the next state; it rained in New York,
Chicago and Washington – those places I’d heard of that I figured were just about
the same – though not as important – Waco.”
In 1913, Sammy started East Waco Elementary, about a mile down Corsicana
Road from his family’s house on Paul Quinn Street. After class, he’d shine shoes
with the older men and listen to them talk about the war in Europe. At age 7, he
and his brother once even got into a fight with some Baylor boys on Waco’s
excellent streetcar system.
His first musical lessons were from a Professor Cobb, who tried to teach Sammy
the cornet for 25 cents a lesson. After two weeks, Cobb told his mother:
“Mrs. Price, your son ain’t got it. He just doesn’t have it. He doesn’t understand
what it’s about. He can never learn. He has no concept of tonal qualities and that’s
that. Save your 25 cents.”
Famous last words …
15
But Sammy kept attending the vaudeville shows at the Gaiety Theater, just across
the Brazos River on Bridge Street, where he’d sit all day watching act after act –
but especially the piano players.
Each year, the massive Waco Cotton Palace would open its grounds on certain
days to African-Americans. His father had one of the food stands on the
fairgrounds and little Sammy would wander in and out of the fair, the rodeo, and –
of course – the musical stages. It was there that he met the famed comedy and
dance team of Ella B. Moore and Chintz, her husband. They kindly invited the
little kid who seemed to love the music so much to visit them in Dallas, should he
ever get up that way:
“From that night on until the summer of 1918, we just day-dreamed about music,
always listening to the blues melodies we heard around us day and night. These
songs used to come to us from some of the strangest places, and from the start I
loved every one of them. Like religion, the blues was also part of our people.”
Sometimes the blues singers sang of sad and terrible things, too. He once heard a
bluesman sing about a lynching that had just taken place in nearby Robinson, then
called Robinsonville. The lyrics haunted him, 60 years later:
“I never have, and I never will,
Pick no more cotton in Robinsonville.
Tell me how long will I have to wait,
Can I get you now or must I hesitate?”
It was on the street corners of Waco that Sammy heard the legendary blues singer
Blind Lemon Jefferson on the city’s downtown square. Price writes that he
distinctly remembers people in the crowd urging Jefferson, “Come on, Lemon,
pick that box!”
Meanwhile, he’d begun taking informal piano lessons on the grand-piano at his
aunt’s house. It was clear from the beginning that he did, indeed, have talent,
whatever Professor Cobb might think.
By the advent of World War I, the Price family had split up and times were even
harder than usual. Finally, his mother moved to Dallas to look for work and, on
June 3, 1918, sent for the boys. They took the Interurban to Dallas. He soon got a
job operating the player piano in Mrs. Lizzie’s Parlor – memorizing the music as it
played. Eventually, he began formal piano lessons with Mrs. Portia Pittman of
Dallas, the daughter of Booker T. Washington.
17
And thus began the career of Swinging Sammy Price.
After Dallas, Sammy traveled with Alphonso Trent’s band, spent some time in
Kansas City studying under the great barrelhouse and boogie pianists there, then
moving on to Chicago and Detroit. In 1938, Price becomes the house pianist for
the great Decca label in New York, playing behind some of the greatest African
American singers of his generation… Peetie Wheatstraw, Big Joe Turner, Blue Lu
Baker and more …
It’s in New York that Price begins a long association with Sister Rosetta Tharpe,
the one-of-a-kind jazz gospel singer and guitar player. With Price, Tharpe cut – or
re-cuts – many of her greatest hits, including: “Up Above My Head, I Hear Music
in the Air,” “Rock Me,” “Didn’t It Rain,” and “Shout, Sister, Shout.”
And this gem:
INSERT “Strange Things Happening Every Day” HERE
Price worked steadily in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s, mostly because he could play
just about everything – recording or performing with Buddy Rich, Benny
Goodman, Red Allen, Doc Cheatham and others. Sammy even played piano on a
number of early rock’n’roll songs. In later years, he returned briefly to Texas to
open a couple of nightclubs and a meat products company.
Price was deeply involved in politics, too – actively working on the campaigns of
Adam Clayton Powell, LBJ, even Bobby Kennedy, performing at benefits and
organizing neighborhoods.
But he eventually returned to his beloved Manhattan, much like Bobby Short, and
became a fixture there. Sammy Price died April 14, 1992 in New York City … just
weeks after playing a steady gig in Boston.
But before we go, here’s just one more taste of the great piano stylings of Sammy
Price, again with Sister Rosetta:
LAST MUSICAL INSERT HERE; “Strange Things Happening Every Day”
I’m your host Robert Darden, Associate Professor of Journalism, PR & New
Media and thank you for joining us for another edition of Treasures of the Texas
Collection. The Texas Collection has an extraordinary collection of Texas-related
19
documents, books, letters, photographs, memoirs – and, of course – maps and
music and much, much more. For more information, go to: baylor.edu/lib/texas/
Treasures of the Texas Collection was made possible by generous grants from The
Wardlaw Fellowship Fund for Texas Studies and by the Guy B. Harrison, Jr.
Endowment Fund.
This has been a production of KWBU-FM 103.3, public radio for Central Texas.