The Real Texas (2)

 The Mexican government abolished slavery in 1829 but turned a blind eye to the institution in Texas. Eventually, as their numbers grew, the anxious Anglo settlers wanted firmer assurances of their rights as slaveholders, and sought independence. The short-lived Republic of Texas they created in 1836 provided as much protection for slavery as possible. Texas’s 1845 annexation by the United States was controversial in some parts of the country precisely because everyone knew the Republic had been constituted as a slaveholder’s republic and was full of people who were enthusiastic about chattel slavery. Bringing Texas into the Union would upset the balance of power between the Northern free states and Southern slave states.

It’s very likely that when most people in the United States—and in the world—think about Texas, they do not think of the foundational forces described above. Thanks to Hollywood, the conflict with the Comanches—which continued for decades after New Spain became Mexico, and after the Republic of Texas became the State of Texas—may come to mind. Certainly, cowboys and cattle ranchers in possession of vast acres have taken their place as figures emblematic of the state. And then, of course, there is oil. Spindletop, the phenomenal 1901 gusher that produced more than 100,000 barrels of oil over a nine-day period, and other spectacular strikes at the Sour Lake, Humble, and Batson-Old fields, made Texas the world’s leading producer of oil for years. This created another stereotype to go along with the cowboy and the prosperous cattle rancher: the vulgar nouveau riche Texas millionaire prone to bragging about being in “the oil bidness.”

Giant, the classic movie based on Edna Ferber’s novel of the same name, brought the cattle ranch and the oil field together, burning those images of Texas into the minds of millions. All of the books under review mention the film. It presents the cattle rancher, and those affiliated with cattle operations, as the original, authentic Texans, who had their way of life disrupted by an oil boom that transformed everyone’s relationship to the land. Although the movie ends on a hopeful note, a sense of loss runs through it. Larry McMurtry’s depiction of Texas, in his collection of essays In a Narrow Grave—recently reissued for its fiftieth anniversary—has much in common with the film. Nostalgia for a lost Texas—a Texas based on the ways of cattle ranching—permeates both. And both proceed as if the state’s history with slave-based agriculture did not exist, or should have no real bearing on the way the state is perceived.