.... © 2000 Jeffrey Dane

The comfort of Rockports effectively makes them sneakers disguised as shoes. Historian J.R. Edmondson is a scholar operatively disguised as a history aficionado.

The native Texan's ardor for Western history generally, for Texas history specifically and for the Alamo and all its sub-categories in particular is not just compelling but downright contagious. He seems to live and breathe Texas history with an encyclopedic and informed knowledge, and an almost matchless personal enthusiasm that lights up a conversation. I'd been "warned" by various people, at different times and independently of each other, that once Jack Edmondson gets started on a discussion of Western history, he can pursue it with the determination and intensity of engagement the Alamo defenders showed during their last thirteen days. My informants weren't aware you can't choke a cat with cream.

Western Historian J. R. Edmondson, in costume as James Bowie

With degrees from the University of Texas and from Texas Christian, his publication accomplishments include articles for Blackpowder Annual, Blade Magazine, and Knife World. Now in preparation is another book, "Colonel Bowie's Blade - The History of a Legend in Steel." He also produced Texas & Texians, a historical calendar for the Texas sesquicentennial. He portrays Bowie at the yearly Jim Bowie Festival in Vidalia, Louisiana, where the now-legendary sandbar fight is re-enacted. We also have J.R. Edmondson to thank for the annual pageant and re-enactments performed every March at the Alamo in San Antonio to commemorate the siege.

Not surprisingly, the historical figure with whom he identifies most closely is James Bowie, a Texan not by birth but by adoption, just as Beethoven and Brahms were not Austrian (they spent their adult lives in Vienna) but German-born. Edmondson encapsulated the Bowie situation with the perceptive and revealing comment, "There are so many wonderful legends enshrouding him, but you almost have to take a Bowie knife to cut through the mythology to find the real man."

An educator and author, Edmondson is considered an expert on Bowie, whom he's also portrayed in several films for the History and Discovery channels ("The Alamo" and "Battle of the Alamo," respectively), on the American TV series "Unsolved Mysteries," and even in a German production for Euro-Television. All were made near the Mexican border in Brackettville, Texas, the site - now known as Alamo Village - of the still-extant set of John Wayne's film, "The Alamo."

Casting Jack Edmondson as James Bowie in these later films was not only fitting but even providential, and for good reasons. Makeup can do a lot but there's no substitute for a true physical likeness: when in costume he has an almost uncanny resemblance to the historical Bowie - the features themselves differ but the facial structure corresponds. The only known life-painted portrait of Bowie (attributed to G. P. A. Healy) bears this out. If not an actual "clone," Edmondson is arrestingly convincing in the role of Bowie: the height and build, the demeanor and bearing, carriage, conduct, presence and poise - all these traits give the concept of reincarnation a new credential.

Parenthetically, when the late Jeffrey Hunter portrayed Christ in the 1961 film, "The King of Kings," it was decided not to apply makeup for his eyes, which were expressive in themselves and needed no enhancement. Bowie's life-portrait gives him a rather fierce look, and though Edmondson's countenance, too, is an earnest one, his eyes reveal not severity but kindness.

He's also portrayed Bowie on several other occasions, and his remark about these roles being "mostly small parts in large productions and large parts in small productions" is a reflection of his modesty. It's a matter of record that many performers find more personal fulfillment appearing before an audience than on film, TV, or recordings. It's therefore no accident that Edmondson's acknowledged personal favorites among his numerous performance achievements are the Living History in-person presentations he's given at schools and historical organizations, where he's also portrayed Sam Houston and Alamo commander William Barret Travis.

While his personal background has no "dark secrets" in the usual sense, some of his past activities have a certain mystery that fittingly corresponds to some of the Old West's shrouded legends: on his last visit to New York he was called as a material witness at a murder trial.

His work as an independent historian and author gives it a different but totally genuine and valid perspective of Western history. It's a field that's been plowed so often, each furrow being turned so many times, that expecting a knife owned by James Bowie to turn up now might be comparable to finding an ancient Greek ceremonial dagger lying loose somewhere in the Parthenon today. Still, there are some who believe a certain unusual, distinctive knife may have been one of those made for and owned by Bowie himself.

An investigative two-part article by Edmondson appeared in successive issues (January & February, 1993) of Knife World magazine. Reading almost like a Stephen King thriller, the article is totally riveting and assumes edge-of-your-chair "Twilight Zone" characteristics with nearly cinematic, Hitchcock-like overtones. Titled "The Brass-Backed Bowie," it discusses the extraordinarily shaped and massive Bowie knife owned by California artist, blade collector and fellow Bowie historian Joseph Musso. The weapon is pictured in the article with the studio prop knife used in the Alan Ladd film, "The Iron Mistress" (based on the book by Paul Wellman). Though the handsome prop knife is unusually large, Musso's brass-backed Bowie is even larger: the blade itself is almost 14 inches long, making the weapon effectively a small sword - which is precisely how Bowie's knife is described in some accounts.

Replicas of the studio prop knife (a) for "The Iron Mistress" and (b) of the massive brass-backed Bowie owned by Joseph Musso

The Knife World article offers if not "absolute proof" then certainly some very convincing evidence that Musso's knife was made ca.1830, possibly by James Black in Washington, Arkansas. The initials JB appear on part of the quillon. While the letters could represent the maker's initials, some feel that the knife may have been made for and owned by Bowie. Conjecture may be fruitless but it's still fascinating.

Though we'll never know for certain if Musso's weapon is literally a Bowie knife, there are those who share a common view about it - a common feeling. Rather singular and historically almost unique of shape, positively frightening of configuration and monstrous in its size, there's an undefinable mood about it which is almost disturbing, as though it has some hidden story to tell, if only it could speak. Inanimate, the weapon has no life of its own - but it seems to have a very distinctive and almost palpable presence. This cannot be explained. It can only be felt - and it can be sensed even in its photographs.

A particular and even peculiar quality ascribed to the historical James Bowie is that he would come to the aid of defenseless men without solicitation. Though exceptional, there are such men. An unusually distinctive and benevolent trait like this is remarkably revealing of a person's character - and it's a quality that seems to link Edmondson's with Bowie's. What prompted Edmondson to write the article for Knife World was the appalling treatment he had seen Joseph Musso receive at the hands of those in authority at a large knife show. While Musso was not "defenseless" and may have needed no aid in the traditional way, Edmondson's immediate and subsequent reactions reflected the sentiment - and correspond to the kind of courage - that Bowie himself would have shown in comparable circumstances.

In his writing, Edmondson's aim is not to decorate but to illuminate, to show not the shadow but the substance of its subject. Anyone can report dry facts. Many can string words together coherently, but not everyone can tell a story well. Fewer still can tell a good story engagingly with important data woven into the tale as an integral part of the textual tapestry (rather than tacked on as footnotes). Edmondson aims higher. His goal is to go beyond simple documentation, to pierce the armor and enter the sanctum of personality and character. In this, his work is marked not by similarity but by a particularity of examination and a specialty of exploration.

His most recent principal achievement is "The Alamo Story: From Early History to Current Conflicts," published in February, 2000 by Republic of Texas Press in Plano. Some books can put you to sleep even after your morning coffee, but this one can keep you awake at night. That it took Edmondson several years to finish this book is a testimony to his diligence and revererence for the subject matter. In this comprehensive work, Edmondson reveals the origins of "Comanche" and "santanistas"; the particular term for the uniquely-shaped hump atop the Alamo's façade; that the man who became the mission's most famous defender actually had an almost accidental connection to it; the link between Sam Houston and Francis Scott Key; how and why "Colonel" James Bowie was so titled; the incident in David Crockett's life that effectively determined his outlook in maturity; and which president's nephew perished at the Alamo. Even the name of the bugler who played the De Guello before the final assault on the mission is mentioned in this solid book.

The cover of Edmondson's latest book

The author also tells us there's no historical documentation that James Bowie ever killed anyone fighting in a duel per se. This may initially seem at odds with legend but should also lay to rest some Bowie questions and put things into proper historical perspective.

Many Alamo questions are still unanswered and will forever so remain, but one which prompts contention among historians and scholars, and the academics, involves those whose claim of a historic Alamo connection has no documentation. With exceptional perception, Edmondson seems to enlarge and strengthen the links in the chain that binds us to our own history: he lets us realize that history isn't composed solely of official decisions and descriptive records, and that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. I knew Leonard Bernstein when I was a student - but that he might never have "documented" this by mentioning my name in his letters does not mean that I didn't know him.

Outsiders often have preconceptions about those from other countries and cultures, and even from other areas of their own country. They sometimes envision the local populace from a groundlessly elitist viewpoint. Visiting Texas and getting to know some of its people will easily dispel such myths for strangers. Enlightenment, refinement, cultivation, and pride of heritage are only some of the traits that mark Texans. We usually see only the tips of icebergs. As there's more to Dimitri Tiomkin than just his music for "The Alamo" and more to Max Steiner than his scores for "The Iron Mistress" and "The Last Command," there's much more to Texas than cowboy boots, Stetsons, sagebrush and chicken-fried steak. These are stereotypes that can narrow one's views and, more importantly, limit one's experience. Western treasures are embodied in its culture, traditions, historic sites and especially in its people, and like the study of a true masterwork, the rewards are many, varied and great for those who seek them.

An ideal blend of engaging conversationalist and considerate listener, Edmondson offered his views on some of the confusion that plagues the subject of Bowie, whom he perceptively identifies as "perhaps the most misunderstood of all the Alamo defenders." Inquiries of ten different scholars can net twelve different findings. Contradictions about Bowie are legion. In dispute even now is whether the idea or design for the Bowie knife originated with James or his brother Rezin (prounounced REE-zin), and even the family name has seen two different pronounciations (BOO-ee and BOW-ee). It seems the former is the correct one, as indicated by the different phonetically written renderings of it by others in his era - before the age of mass media coverage and when standardized spelling wasn't yet the norm. The name is written in Mexican documents (wrongly spelled but phonetically right) variously as "buey" and "buy," and even as early as 1837 - a mere year after Bowie's death - an Alabama law regulated the sale and use of "booey" knives.

Now displayed at The Alamo, this knife was presented by Rezin P. Bowie, James' brother, to a friend

Edmondson chose an appropriate site for our meeting: the San Jacinto monument park, where General Sam Houston defeated the Mexican forces and captured Santa Anna on April 21, 1836 - six weeks after the fall of the Alamo, arguably the greatest single traumatic event in our country's early culture until the first presidential assassination. The personal tour of the grounds he and his friend Stacie Mercier gave me was effectively a veritable Texas history education in microcosm, which I found even more enlightening and personally enjoyable than the Charlton Heston-narrated multi-media presentation in the monument's theatre. Edmondson showed me the spot believed to be where Santa Anna was captured.

In a voice not as identifiable as Heston's but just as dramatic and certainly more informed on the subject, Edmondson had told me about "The Twin Sisters" that were brought across a San Jacinto field toward the Mexican general's encampment. We learn every day: I thought he was referring to some Emily Morgan-type companionship for Santa Anna (who was prone to pursuing his interest in the fair sex with the kind of verve adolescent boys have for their girlfriends). He explained that The Twin Sisters were a pair of cannon Houston's men used that day to defeat Santa Anna's forces, and gave me an informed, detailed commentary on the historical strategies, tactics, and logistics of that day's events. He also refreshed my memory about the well-known Emily Morgan tale, adding that it might be spurious. According to legend, she was a beautiful mulatto servant-girl who was "entertaining" Santa Anna in his tent when General Houston surprised the Mexican army, and in less than twenty minutes Houston's forces were victorious. Some say she was actually sent to the Mexican encampment for the very purpose of distracting Santa Anna. In any case, the song "The Yellow Rose of Texas" refers to Emily Morgan by tradition.

The following is emblematic of Western resourcefulness. San Jacinto's monument is an obelisk almost identical in form and design to the Washington Monument in the nation's capitol. Stacie told me the government had prohibited the San Jacinto monolith's being built any higher than the Washington Monument. In keeping with the ruling, the obelisk erected at San Jacinto was itself no taller than the one in Washington - but Texas circumvented the restriction by placing a massive, three-dimensional Texas star atop the obelisk, making its overall height even greater than that of its Washington counterpart. This affixed Texas star "finial" also distinguishes the San Jacinto Monument from Washington's "Cleopatra's Needle" structure, whose top forms a pyramid. While the San Jacinto structure has a platform at its base and vertical fluting down its column, the Washington Monument has neither of these.

The San Jacinto Monument, outside Houston, Texas

Edmondson had brought with him three Bowie knives, each more impressive than the other, from his collection of almost 170. Many are hand-crafted; those who are aware of what's involved in the generation and cost of such custom-made pieces know what this means. Edmondson told me it's illegal to wear these in Texas. I already knew this through my own experience with a polite but dauntingly firm Texas state trooper on the morning I had visited Brackettville. I explained to the officer that I had come from New York to visit Alamo Village, and as a historian, researcher and writer I was wearing my large Bowie knife merely to try to get even a bit deeper into the spirit of Alamo Village's surroundings. The trooper accepted this as a reason but not as justification for my wearing the piece even in its sheath, and I secured it forthwith.

A dinner vignette at the nearby Monument Inn revealed something about Edmondson's character, subtlety, and modus operandi. When the announcement came, "Table for Travis" (as in Colonel William Barret Travis), the knowing glances I got from my two hosts told me the table was for us and no-one else. It seemed an ideal combination of private joke and clever ruse for camouflage, considering that the announcement of a table for "J.R. Edmondson" might attract some attention. He also personalized and gave me a copy of his book, "Mr. Bowie With A Knife: A History Of The Sandbar Fight," a recounting of the now-legendary encounter which set James Bowie on a path that ultimately, maybe inevitably, gave him nearly iconic status even during his own lifetime.

Some historical reports claim Bowie was a rowdy, a trouble-maker, a sot, a swindler, had shady business dealings, and that he might have been among the least admirable Alamo defenders. Others say he had a noble character; that he developed a cultivation that belied his modest beginnings; that he was kindly and pleasant with strangers who, having heard of him, approached him to make his acquaintance; that he was absolutely courtly with women; and that he had that elusive quality of charisma - impossible to define, difficult to explain, hopeless to imitate, but very easy to recognize. Because he was far above us in some ways doesn't mean he had to be far above us in every aspect of general daily virtue. Like us, he had a full set of human weaknesses, and the personal frailties to which he was subject make him more, not less, of a human being.

Bowie may have been all of those things, and more - a colorful nature precludes black & white judgements, and makes rudimentary descriptions inadequate and therefore maybe even dangerous. Behind the otherwise ordinary objects we find the revealing or persuasive stories about him with their specific anecdotal richness. Throughout the more than sixteen decades since his death, these tales have only deepened his seemingly impenetrable mystique and persona.

Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna

Edmondson considered this matter worthy of thought, and he acknowledged the preference, the very understandable human tendency, for us to believe that the truest features of Bowie's real nature were shaped by his most positive attributes. We tend to admire those we can't emulate but would like to. We also tend to invest martyrs with heroism and heroes with martyrdom. Those who left life prematurely, at whatever age, prompt the most intriguing conjectures. Bowie's adventurous life and martyr's death at the Alamo exemplify this. As the knife bearing his name has become emblematic of him, his name and the very concept of the Alamo have become indelibly linked, if not altogether fused. His 40-year existence contributed as much to nineteenth century legend as to the depiction or representation of historical fact.

Few men would drive for five hours (each way) across Texas, from Ft.Worth to Houston, to spend time in the company of someone he's never met. J.R. Edmondson did this. Was it kindness of spirit and generosity of time? - or an investigative character and an adventurous nature? It might have been both. In either case, Edmondson's consideration and treatment of others gives a new dimension to the concept of Western hospitality and he's living proof that it exists.

His sense of humor was exemplified when he said, "I'll go for help" if some crisis arose. By day's end, I had concluded that when you're in the company of Jack Edmondson, you don't need any help.

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Author's Biography

Jeffrey Dane is a historian and researcher whose writing is published in the U.S. in print and online publications, and in several languages abroad. His most recent book, "Beethoven's Piano," was published by New York's Museum of the American Piano, and he's a contributor to several other volumes, including "On The Crockett Trail" by Rod Timanus (Pioneer Press, Union City, TN, November 1999). His reviews of several books on Western history have been published, and he was asked to write the Foreword for one of them. He's been called by some a real idealist and by others an ideal realist. Both views have merit. If he could experience any event in the world's history, it would be the siege and fall of the Alamo ("but only as an observer, not as a participant").