Elephant stampede

Karen Jacobs passed this story along, kindly asking permission to use it. She and Keith Carter are renovating, restoring and, soon, opening the Long Branch Saloon on Military Square and thought it wise to have it available for their patrons. It’s probably the best news account I’ve ever read. In fact, it’s a great public service message

I’ve re-printed it with annotations because it’s still pertinent. Especially if you own a Cadillac…

From the April 7, 1949 issue of The Gonzales Inquirer:

ELEPHANTS STAMPEDE AT DAILEY BROTHERS CIRCUS

Things are quiet at the Dailey Brothers Circus lot, today, but for two hours late Tuesday, bedlam would have been tame by comparison.

Eighteen bulls out of the circus herd of 21 elephants went on a rampage and stampeded out the winter quarters of the circus to roar across the southeast end of Gonzales for more than two hours before all were rounded up and corralled in their barn to quiet down.

With the consent of owner Ben C. Davenport, the herd had been moved to a ravine at the far end of the old fair grounds to a heavily wooded section not far from the Guadalupe River.

The animals had been arranged to pass in a group before the camera, but they were sluggish and refused to be speeded. Davenport dispatched two cowboys, mounted on horses, to the rear of the herd and allowed them to shoot several rounds from .44 caliber pistols.

The combination of prancing horses and barking pistols frightened the herd and they started off without warning trumpeting loudly and storming for distance in all directions.

The herd, all but one – Little Butch – was safe before sunset…

(Now, here’s where my questions start. I have reached out to both Cadillac and Ringling Brothers to see if this was the first elephant ever to ride in a car. As of press time, I haven’t heard back. I’m going to assume it was because it’s silly sitting here imagining an elephant name Little Butch riding shotgun.)

Two men were slightly hurt in the stampede, Rex Williams, 26, a former Marine, a head elephant man with the circus, was bumped by a bull and sent flying probably 20 feet. He was cut and bruised.

(Okay. Second question. What is one marine doing taking on 18 elephants? Of course, you’re going to fly!  Hannibal had 38 elephants when he crossed the Pyrenees Mountains and that required over 30,000 soldiers. But isn’t being thrown into the air better than being Raymond Freivogal? Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. Just a sec…)

Raymond Freivogal, 30, utility man, who in front of the herd, made a leap for safety and stumbled as the elephants advanced. He fell between two logs that had been rolled into the place for props, and this proved to be the lucky accident that saved his life.

(When I read, Raymond was a “utility man” after realizing Rex was the “head elephant man”, I immediately want their business cards. I can imagine needing to call either, or both, in a pinch and I suspect that’s the main reason Karen sent me this from the saloon.  Another thing: The logs being used for props bother me. I’m reminded of holding a little stuffed bird for an Olan Mills photograph when I was a child of three. I nearly ripped the photographer’s head off. I cannot imagine what I would have happened had I been born with a trunk or bigger ears.)

For two miles, the elephants scattered, singly, in pairs and in threes, and it was more than two hours later – 4:30 p.m. – before the last was rounded up by the frantically laboring circus hands.

They roared through fences knocking them down indiscriminately, and one bull tore off the porch of a small house. Letter boxes in the rural route areas also went down, among them the box of Louis H. School and one of his neighbors.

(The porch thing reminds me of something my mother once said. “Never drink sweet tea during an afternoon elephant stampede.” Wiser words…)

Across the Gonzales-Shiner Highway, the herd flew, some of them being captured later against the brick walls of the Gonzales Cotton Mill.

One pair suddenly smashed out of the brush land into the Shiner Road just as a tourist car, bearing Indiana plates and containing a middle-aged couple drove along.

The goggle-eyed man at the wheel nearly cracked up when he saw the elephants charging in his direction. He drove into a ditch and let the elephants pass by. Later, when he was able to regain the highway, the tourist sped into town screaming that the elephants were after him.

It was the first word in Gonzales that the elephants were on stampede. But the tourist fled the city.

(That’s what always happens. Tourism takes a hit. Every town I’ve ever lived in, I’ve tried to warn people to mind their elephants. Nobody ever listens…)