True stories of old Houston and Houstonians: historical and personal sketches / by S. O. Young. Page: 85

HOUSTON AND HOUSTONIANS 86
here and I am going to tell it, even if I have to dodge Col. Hamp
Cook for the next month for doing so.
On one occasion there was a red-hot campaign on and Joe and
Hamp were taking an active part in it. They boarded the old
mule car to go down to the Union Depot on Congress Avenue.
On the way down they jumped off the car and went into a grocery
store to get some cigars. They were standing talking to the man
when a big yellow negro came in. Joe looked at the negro for
a moment and then, without a word, hauled off and smashed
him in the face. The negro did not understand what it was
about, but he promptly knocked Joe down and mounted him.
That was more than Colonel Cook could stand, so he batted the
negro, knocking him off Joe and engaging him himself. The negro
had the Colonel on his back the next minute and proceeded
to beat him up a whole lot. Hamp fought and fought, but he
also yelled for Joe to help him out. Joe had gotten up and
stood there with his hands in his' pockets shouting:
"Give him hell, Hamp. Give him hell."
"Pull him off, I tell you. Don't you see he's giving me hell?"
replied Hamp.
"No, he's not," replied Joe. "Keep it up, you've got him."
Finally the store man pulled the negro off Hamp and restored /
order for a moment, but only for a moment, for Hamp forgot
all about the negro in his anxiety to get at Joe. The man had
hard work to prevent another fight, but finally restored order.
I had forgotten all about that convention and that battle royal
until that candidate came in the book store the other day and
set the current of my thoughts backward to the days when there
were more things happening in Houston that had life and vim
in them, in a day, than happen now in a month,
DESPERADOES AS SOLDIERS.
OUSTON has introduced some remarkable characters in.
the past, and some of her sons have established enviable
reputations in the world. There are others of her sons
who have made names for themselves as great warriors In private
life; in a word, as desperadoes, and others as near-deas
peradoes. In the early days each community had its "bad man,"
who was pointed at with something like pride, for he was sure
to shed a kind of luster on the community. Houston had several
of these "bad men," gun fighters or whatever is the proper
name for them. There was Kane Norton, who was killed in the
battle of Mansfield, over in Louisiana; Tom Clarke, who was
knifed to death by a dozen Mexicans in the market house in
San Antonio, after he had killed several of them and exhausted
all the shots of his six-shooter, and last, but not least; Buck
Stacey, of whom I am going to speak at more length now. Buck
did not have the glory of dying on the field of battle or of dying
amid the bodies of those who had fallen before his deadly pistol,