The James Bowie whom we met in Part I was a bold, physically imposing frontiersman. He also was a self-promoting opportunist, always seeking to improve his station in life.
Throughout the early and mid-1820s, the entrepreneurial Louisiana-based Bowie brothers, under the direction of James, pursued the acquisition of wealth by means fair and foul. They had successfully partnered with notorious pirate Jean Lafitte in the illegal importation of slaves, and then, through the forging of numerous deeds and land grants, had sold large tracts of land, most of which they did not own. Inevitably, their illicit dealings in the so-called “Bowie claims” became public.
photo-frames-with-retro-edges-vector
By 1828, word of the Bowies’ land-swindling schemes had spread throughout Louisiana and Arkansas, and Kentucky-born James Bowie determined to seek his fortune elsewhere. For the past few years, he had been attracted to the prospect of re-establishing himself in Texas. It was, after all, the new frontier—a seemingly endless expanse of land in the Federation of Mexico, offering immense opportunity to enterprising norteamericanos.
For years, the Spanish monarchy had welcomed American colonists to “New Spain,” and when Mexico won its independence from Spain in 1821, the new republican government had continued to open Texas—or Coahuila y Tejas, as the combined state officially was termed—to settlement by United States citizens. Two years later, to sweeten the deal, Mexico gave the “Texians,” as the new Anglo colonists were calling themselves, a seven-year grace period on payment of taxes. The conditions were straightforward: Those who were willing to adopt Mexican citizenship, abide by its laws, and convert to Catholicism were eligible for sizable land grants. This fit perfectly into the land-hungry Bowies’ plans.
Bowie made an exploratory journey to Texas, visiting the presidio of San Antonio de Béxar. The capital of Spanish Texas, it was an unimpressive collection of low log-and-adobe buildings flocked around a military plaza. At some point, he met Juan Martin de Veramendi, a well-connected local official, land speculator, and scion of an old and respected Texas family. He also was introduced to Maria Ursula, de Veramendi’s comely 16-year-old daughter.
Bowie traveled back to Louisiana at least three times over the next few years to try to advance more of his false claims. On his last trip, he discovered that virtually all of his spurious land schemes had collapsed and that President Andrew Jackson himself had authorized an investigation. In 1830, James returned to Texas, ostensibly to build a cotton mill, but mainly to pursue his plan to acquire vast tracts of available land. It probably was around this time that he determined to court young Ursula and enter into business with her influential father.
Having adopted Mexican citizenship and undergone the required religious conversion, Bowie established relationships with members of both the civil authority and the more prominent families of the Tejano—or native-born Mexican—middle and upper classes. He hunted, partied and drank with them, and sought their input on the most desirable land for purchase.
At 35, Bowie was still a handsome, beguiling man; with de Veramendi’s consent, he wooed and won the then-18-year-old Ursula, and they were wed in April 1831. Much has been written about Bowie’s motivation for marriage. Opportunist that he was, he clearly saw the benefits. While sizable tracts were available to the thousands of single Texians, considerably larger grants were offered to married men, and even more to those who wed Mexican women. Ursula was the perfect choice. Her family was old and established, and her father could open doors that otherwise would have remained shut. Also, de Veramendi was an old friend of Stephen Austin. A powerful figure among the settlers, Austin had been instrumental in bringing in the first Anglo settlers, and the Texians looked to him for leadership and guidance.
There is also strong evidence, however, that Bowie was genuinely smitten with his new bride. His close friend and companion Caiaphas Ham referred to the beautiful Ursula as a “most esteemed lady,” and described Bowie as “kind and gentle—anticipating [her] wants and wishes with great foresight and judgment.” He was, recalled Capt. William G. Hunt, “supremely happy with and devoted to her, more like a kind and tender lover than the rough backwoodsman.”
Nonetheless, the “dowry contract”—an itemized list of Bowie’s assets that de Veramendi had demanded from the groom—would prove to be a collection of falsehoods and exaggerations. Bowie was, in fact, deeply in debt. Referring to Bowie’s “stunning economy with the truth,” biographer William O. Davis described the dowry: “Like the man himself, it was big, bold, and just over half dishonest.”
De Veramendi had recently been named vice-governor of Coahuila y Tejas, and James and Ursula moved into her parents’ upscale home, where he lived well on his father-in-law’s largesse. While Bowie won over many of de Veramendi’s friends, others found him boastful, and called him el Fanfarron (the Braggart), but never to his face.
photo-frames-with-retro-edges-vector
Bowie was not a stay-at-home husband. Since the Mexican government had allowed a four-year grace period for payment on land purchases, he was counting on acquiring huge tracts and selling them at a profit before the notes came due. This required constant travel, and he ranged far afield to inspect his prospective purchases.
He also assembled a party of nine fortune hunters, including brother Rezin, whom he had lured from Louisiana, to accompany him in locating a legendary silver mine purportedly discovered a century earlier by the now-absent Spaniards. They traveled to the San Saba hills, where they were attacked by a large party of American Indians. For the next 10 hours, Bowie’s party fought off assault after heated assault, suffering one dead and three wounded. According to the Texians’ estimate, they killed or wounded some 70 Indians. Bowie and his small party had bested foes at better than 12-1 odds, and although he failed to find the silver mine, his legend grew exponentially among the rugged colonists.
Meanwhile, there was growing tension between the Mexican government and the Anglo settlers. The government grew increasingly alarmed at the steady influx of tens of thousands of “gringos,” and closed the door to further emigration from the U.S. As the seven-year exemption had long since expired, it also established military garrisons at several of the settlements to ensure the payment of customs duties.
While the shift in governmental policy could have been handled better, the Texians were not without blame. Although they had sworn as newly made Mexican citizens to respect and obey the laws of their adopted country, many still considered themselves Americans first, and they bristled at what they felt was an infringement on their rights.
The recent American Revolution had begun over the issue of taxes, and many had relatives who had fought the British. Americans, with their sense of entitlement, were in no mood to be controlled by a government of “greasers” and “bean-eaters,” as they derogatorily referred to Mexicans. Further, the fledgling U.S. was in an expansionist phase, and several of the Anglos believed it was their God-given right to expand unhindered to the Pacific shore.
One of the stipulations in the colonization agreement was a strict no-slave policy. However, since most of the new settlers came from the Southern states and territories, they simply chose to ignore this law and brought their slaves with them. This included James Bowie, who arrived in Texas with two slaves. According to one source, by 1834, there were 30,000 Anglo settlers and 5,000 slaves in Texas.
Finally, few of the norteamericanos were actually Catholic and had only agreed to convert to take advantage of the offer of cheap land. Although most were not devout, denying them freedom of religion only exacerbated the situation.
Initially, Bowie straddled the fence, sympathizing with his fellow Texians, but mindful of his commitment to his family and his new homeland. Many of the Texians, however, clamored for armed resistance, as confrontations flared across Coahuila y Tejas.
photo-frames-with-retro-edges-vector
In August 1832, word reached Stephen Austin, who was still hopeful of a peaceful resolution, of a confrontation in Nacogdoches between a 200-man Mexican garrison and some 300 Texians. Recognizing Bowie as an influential figure among the colonists, Austin asked him to travel to Nacogdoches and defuse the situation. Bowie, however, arrived after hostilities had already broken out. Finding the Texians leaderless, he made a life-changing decision: Resentful of the new restrictions and unwilling to see his fellow Texians slaughtered, he entered the fray on the colonists’ side.
Selecting 20 men, he ambushed the Mexican column and, bluffing the officers into believing he would slaughter the whole garrison, convinced them to surrender. Again, he had triumphed over impossible odds, and within a short time, all of Texas heard about it. Overnight, the charismatic Bowie had become an icon in the rebellion.
In an effort to avoid all-out war, the Texians elected delegates who attended conventions in 1832 and 1833, and drew up a list of grievances and requests. Austin himself presented the petitions to the government in Mexico City; most of the requests were denied, and Austin was jailed for nearly two years, further enraging the Texians.
In September 1833, tragedy struck the Bowie home, having nothing to do with either land values or the rebellion. While James was away, his wife and her parents were caught up in the cholera epidemic that was sweeping the region; all three perished. No record exists describing Bowie’s response to the death of his young wife. If the many contemporary accounts of their relationship are to be credited, however, it must have devastated him. Bowie had always been fond of hard liquor, as were most men of his time, but he then became a dedicated drinker.
Around that time, Gen. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, a national hero who had been instrumental in winning Mexico’s independence from Spain, was elected president. He advertised himself as a Federalist and vowed to honor the earlier promises of the Republic, but by 1835, he had reversed his position. Declaring himself dictator, he abolished the constitution, removed all local magistrates from office, and established a centralized government supported by the army. In the face of these and other draconian acts, what had begun as a disorganized resistance was fast becoming a war for Texas independence, supported not just by Texians, but by an increasing number of frustrated Tejanos as well.
In October 1835, the Mexican army occupied San Antonio, and the Texas rebels placed the city under siege. The soldados had also installed themselves in the nearby mission. The complex had been named San Antonio de Valero when it was built more than a century before, but because of the cottonwoods (alamos in Spanish) that grew close by, it was familiarly known as the Alamo. Although constructed as a mission, over the decades it also had served as a fortress against Indian attacks.
By this time, Austin had been released from prison and had become leader of the so-called War Party. The Texans were struggling to build a government and an army, and Austin appointed Bowie a colonel on his staff. On Oct. 28, while leading a force of 92 mounted volunteers, Bowie was attacked by more than 400 Mexican soldiers. Once again, he turned the tables, driving off the Mexicans and capturing a cannon and 30 muskets.
A month later, Bowie, commanding 140 cavalry and foot soldiers, descended on a contingent of Mexican cavalry escorting a pack train bound for the San Antonio garrison. Gen. Martín Cos, commanding the troops inside the town, immediately sent out reinforcements, and again, Bowie’s smaller force prevailed. The packs, which were rumored to carry silver, held only fodder for the Mexican horses. Nonetheless, the Grass Fight, as it came to be known, reflected glowingly on the seemingly unbeatable Bowie.
After the Grass Fight, Bowie traveled to the mission at Goliad to inspect the Texian garrison stationed there. In his absence, the rebels attacked San Antonio and its nearby mission. After five days of hard fighting, Cos, who happened to be Santa Anna’s brother-in-law, surrendered his 1,100-man force. Since the victors had no provisions for prisoners, they released the soldados and sent them south to Mexico, on Cos’ pledge to nevermore fight against the Texians.
When he learned of Cos’ surrender, a furious Santa Anna resolved to crush the upstart Texians. Marching north at the head of his army, he encountered his retreating brother-in-law. Ignoring Cos’ pledge, Santa Anna ordered him and his soldados to reverse direction and join his punitive expedition.
Bowie returned to San Antonio on Jan. 19, 1836, at the head of 30 volunteers. According to various sources, he carried an order from Gen. Sam Houston, commander of the Texian forces, mandating the destruction of the Alamo. Bowie reportedly disregarded the order, deciding instead to fortify the mission and give Houston time to enlarge his army.
Soon, a group of 12 adventurers, including the noted frontiersman and former congressman David Crockett, arrived in San Antonio seeking to make their fortunes in Texas. Shortly thereafter, a party of 30 regulars rode into town, commanded by a 26-year-old transplanted Alabama lawyer and firebrand named William Barrett Travis. Arrogant and ambitious, he had proven himself in skirmishes against the Mexican army and had recently acquired the rank of lieutenant colonel of cavalry.
The nascent rebel government had placed Col. James Neill in charge of the San Antonio troops, and when Neill left to attend to his sick family, he left Travis in command. The men, who overwhelmingly favored Bowie, demanded an election, and to no one’s surprise, Bowie won handily.
Bowie and his men celebrated the victory by going on a massive drunk, releasing several prisoners from the jail and terrorizing the locals. When he finally sobered up, he apologized to Travis, and the two agreed to divide command, with Bowie overseeing the volunteers while the regulars reported to Travis.
When word reached San Antonio of the advancing Mexican army, the Texians, numbering only around 150 Anglos and Tejanos, left the town for the relative security of the Alamo, taking with them the 21 cannons that Cos had abandoned.
Santa Anna’s forces arrived in late February. Thousands of Mexican soldiers besieged the mission, with more on the way. As the men inside the walls were aware, without reinforcements, their situation was hopeless. Before the siege began, Bowie had written to the provisional governor of Texas, “We will rather die in these ditches, than give it up to the enemy … It would be a waste of men to put our brave little band against thousands … Again we call loud for relief.”
As history records, relief never came. Myriad accounts have been written on the 13-day siege of the Alamo. During the blockade, Travis addressed himself to logistics: commanding and provisioning the garrison, maintaining order and discipline, and writing repeated letters pleading for aid. During the constant shelling, Crockett, a gifted raconteur, buoyed the men’s spirits with his seemingly endless store of anecdotes and entertained them with his fiddle.
Initially, Bowie shared command with Travis, but after the first few days, he fell seriously ill. His condition rapidly worsened until his fever reduced him to lying on a cot in a room near the mission’s main gate. He probably suffered from typhoid fever, exacerbated by the effects of his old wounds, an earlier bout of malaria and alcohol abuse. Whatever the cause, Bowie was a dying man.
photo-frames-with-retro-edges-vector
Before dawn on the morning of March 6, Santa Anna’s troops attacked the Alamo in force, neutralizing the outer defenses and breaching the walls. The battle that followed was fierce but brief, the outcome predetermined. Travis was reportedly among the first to fall, while the nature of Crockett’s death is widely and bitterly debated. The most popular version has him selling his life dearly among an overwhelming throng of Mexicans. According to other sources, he was among the few who attempted to surrender, only to face brutal execution.
Stories of Bowie’s last moments depict him fighting with knife and pistols to his last breath. In reality, Bowie was near death, if not already gone, by the time the final battle raged. There is general agreement that the frenzied soldados who burst into his sick room shot and bayonetted him numerous times, but the man whose body they desecrated was already beyond hope of recovery.
In the end, the specifics of how Travis, Crockett, Bowie or any of their fellow defenders died matter little. Each man had chosen to face insurmountable odds, ultimately without hope of survival.
In the aftermath of battle, the legends were born, and James Bowie’s legend flourished.
His death at the Alamo virtually erased any fact-based appreciation of the man himself in the public mind, replacing it with fantasy, nor were Americans alone in idolizing the fallen warrior. Famed British historian and philosopher Thomas Carlyle thundered, “By Hercules! The man was greater than Caesar or Cromwell—nay, nearly equal to Odin or Thor. The Texans ought to build him an altar.”
Nowhere has the fanciful image of Bowie been more widely exploited than in Hollywood. At last count, he has factored largely in at least 22 films, beginning in 1915 with a silent movie titled Martyrs of the Alamo. Some films are more credible than others, but nearly all play up his skill with the massive blade that erroneously bears his name.
Although most movies, such as Ron Howard’s 2004 epic, The Alamo, focus on his final days inside the doomed mission, others have invented Bowie biographies that strain credulity. Perhaps the most absurd is 1950’s Comanche Territory, in which an ill-cast MacDonald Carey saves the Comanche Nation by teaching the braves to forge Bowie knives by heating steel in their campfires and using rocks as hammers and anvils.
In 1956, no doubt inspired by Disney’s blockbuster Davy Crockett series, the legend went mainstream when The Adventures of Jim Bowie debuted on television, starring British actor Scott Forbes. It ran for 76 episodes, in nearly all of which the hero is called upon to draw his fearsome knife in the service of justice.
Hollywood notwithstanding, James Bowie was a highly complex man, with great strengths and stunning flaws. As Caiaphas Ham described him, “He was a clever, polite gentleman. He was a true, constant, and generous friend; an open, bitter enemy, who scorned concealment, and any unfair advantage. He was a foe no one dared to undervalue, and many feared.”
Dauntless fighter and charismatic leader though he might have been, Bowie also was a slave trader, a land swindler, a drunkard, a braggart and an irrepressibly ambitious opportunist. But in the end, by displaying a willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of an ideal, he redefined himself as a true American hero.