Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday Thero was no lank of syiiipalhisors in the U.S. who wore oiiffpr ninl willinp to ai() their com- patriots in Tpx.i?. From every .stulo in the Union men bent llicir steps (ovvnids ^)o(l.^on- ville to onli^t nnclor Sam Hoii.ston. I'-roin far and wi(l(' money ponrefl in to swell his flKhtinc fund, enal)lin/jr )n'm t(j buy Kuns aiicl aninnmition and equipment and stores for his voliiiilcci.s. Then, on the ni^ht liefore he was due to march with his army of lil)eration, Sam re- ceived a visitor at his headquarters in Dodsou- villf -a visitor who was none other than Andy Jack.son, president of the United States. "What are yon doinp; iiere?" Sam wanted to know. He had been alone v.hen Jaekson had put in an appearance. Not even Jjamne was witli hlni, au(l no one overheard the conversation which ensued between Sam Houston and the general. "This time, and from a sick bed," the latter began, " I've travelled over twelve hundred miles to .see you, Sam—just as you onco tiavclled over twelve hundred miles to see me. "You came to the White House then," he contimied. "You wanted justice for your Oherokecs, and you f>ot it. This time I want justice for my people. Are yon going to give it to me?" Sam studied him in a perplexed fashion. "Just what are you driving at. general?" "1 told yon in Washington that I wanted to see Texas a State in the Union before I died." "You'll never get what you want," was the younger man's downright response. "Will you get what you want?" Andy Jack.son queried. "Down there in Texas they've started the revolution without you." Sam Houston's eyes glittered. "And who's gonna finish it for them?" he countered. "They haven't any army—only an undisciplined rabble without a leader, for whatever else Steve Austin is he's no soldier. As for me—well, I've got military experience and guns, money and men at my command, men who needed precious little training, for most of tliern had liclonged in the Army at some time or other. Texas can't win without me." "All right." said Jackson. "And if you win the revolution for Texas and establish an outlaw State, it won't be six months before it's overrun by every trouble-maker out of Europe." He (Pointed an admonitory forefinger at Sam. "I know three countries right now that are itching to get a foothold in North America," he procee<lod. "and Texas would be an open invitation for the violation of U.S. interests in this continent. I tell you, Sam, the United States would be dragged into war through you, and you can't do that to the country I've hired out to govern." "You haven't hired out to govern me. I've got nothing to do with the United States." "Oh. yes, you have," Andy Jackson e^ial- lenged. "You can't deny what's bred in your blood and bones that easy, Sam Houston. You're an American, and you'll always be one until the day you die." He had spoken the words in a tone that was bordering on harshness, but all at once his demeanour changed and a whimsical expression appeared on his cadaverous face. "Sam," he murmured, "down there in Texas a State is being born. I'm the neigh- bour who's hurried to the doctor, and you're the doctor. Now go down there an' slap some life into that baby." The apt simile awakened a momentary trace of amusement on Sam Houston's handsome features. But a feeling far more vital than amusement had been awakened in him as well —a wavering sentiment of patriotism that bade fair to transcend all personal ambition. "Look, Sam," Andrew Jackson went on slowly, " I never had a real son. So I—I kind of adopted you, and, like many a prideful father, I've let you ride pretty high. But now I may not see you again, and I want to give you .some parental advice." He laid his hand on Sam Houston's shoulder. " You're going to war for freedom," he observed, "and I remember you once saying up in Washington that the U.S. Government had buried freedom under a pile of dirty BOY'S CINEMA Back to the wall, Davy Crockett saw a Mexican officer run his sole surviving com- rade through the body with a sword, and, clubbing his rifle, he avenged the latter's death with a blow that brained the Texan's killer politics. Well, I don't know but what all politics haven't got some dirt in 'em some place. But remember thi.s—America is still the land of tiie free, and she's always gonna stay that way as long as Americans are runnin' things. "Not that our brand of freedom ain't got its faults," he conceded. "Couldn't help but have —bein' run by ornery humans like Congress- men and Senators. But I reckon the United States is still the only republic in the world where a man can cuss the President out loud if he has a mind to—and all the President can do is cu.ss back. Tliat's what I call democracy." The clasp of his hand tightened on the younger man's shoulder. Then he turned to go, sensing that he had not spoken in vain. " God bless you, Sam!" were his parting words. / Truly President Andrew Jaekson had not spoken in vain. For when Sam Houston rode into Texas at the head of his volunteers, it was not as a power-hungiy adventurer bedazzled by the vision of a land conquered by him and ruled according to his own unchallenged convictions. And when at the end of a long march ho presented himself to Steve Austin and offered to serve the latter's cause, he revealed himself as a man who had forsaken self-interest. Wellnigh distracted at the time, surrounded by a group of wrangling colleagues who were airing their views on the best means of prose- cuting the war for freedom, Steve Austin was at first dubious of Sam's offer. " Just why are you here with your volunteers?" he demanded suspiciously. "Just who are you aiming to fight for, Sam Houston? Yourself?" "No, Mr. Austin," came the deliberate reply. "For Texas—and Andy Jackson." SLAUGHTER AWAY to the south-west of Washington-on- the-Brazos, a full week's journey from that town, there stood a citadel known as the Alamo. Here a small contingent of Texans had established themselves. Numbering a hundred and fifty all told, inclusive of a sprinkling of women and children, they were under the com- mand of William Travis, who ijossessed some scant military experience. And they were in the path of a powerful army headed by the infamous Santa Anna in [jerson. They had sworn to defend the Alamo against Santa Anna's well-equipped host; and they were making final i)reparations to withstand a siege when, early one morning, soon after scouts sent out by Travis had reported that the Mexican Army was but a day's march dis- tant, a courier rode in from the north-east. Known as "Deaf" Smith, that messenger had come from Washington-on-the-Brazos, and he brought important tidings. He told first of all that Steve Austin and other notable Texans were busy drawing up a constitution in Washington-on-the-Brazos—a constitution by which they intended that the territory should be governed if its people's struggle for freedom were successful. He told also of Sam Houston's arrival there with his volunteers, and went on to announce that Steve Austin had appointed Andrew Jackson's erstwhile protege as commander-in- chief of the army of Texas. Then he produced an order signed jointly by Sam and Austin. Travis read that order in the presence of three or four other members of the Alamo's garrison. They were men whom he had singled out to act as his principal aides in the defence of the citadel, and among them were Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett. " Blow up the Alamo and fall back to Gonzalez," "Travis said to them briefly, whea ho had conned the despatch. "That's what this brief says. But if wo do that, Santa Anna may circle our flank and be on the Brazos within a week—in which case Steve Austin would most likely be killed or captured, together with all the men w-ho are in con- vention with him." "What are you figurin' tO do?" Davy Crockett asked. "Defend the Alamo," Travis answered in a determined voice. " The longer we can delay Santa Anna, the more time our fellow Texans in the north will have to build an army that can put up a fight with an outside chance of winning. In short, gentlemen, I'm prepared to disobey this order to retire." .Jim Bowie looked about him reflectively. "It'd be too bad to blow up such a fine, strong buildin' as this." he remarked with a slow smile. December 30th, 1939.