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Texas Agriculture Archive

May 3, 2002

Mel has had his nose stuck in a book for three days running.

"What are you reading?" I finally asked.

"Vinegarroon," my husband replied.

"Humm. I didn't know you were interested in arachnids.

"Whutnids?"

"You know, arachnid...two-segment body, eight-jointed legs, pincers, cold blooded and no backbone."

"Yep, I know one er two..."

"It's a whip scorpion—nocturnal, a carnivore, aggressive, and it gives off a vinegar-like odor, which is where it gets its name. Doesn't have a stinger. It pinches its prey."

"Well, 'at's all mighty innerestin' but ain't got nuttin' to do with this book, other'n when Judge Roy Bean an' some o' his compadres wuz ponderin' a name fer thur town, they seen a vinegarroon run across the ground an' said, `That's it. We'll call it Vinegarroon.' So they did."

Mel was referring to the 1936 book penned by Ruel McDaniel, Vine-garroon: The Saga of Judge Roy Bean, "The Law West of the Pecos."

"Vinegarroon was the name of the first li'l town Bean settled," he continued.

"I always thought it was Langtry."

"'At wuz his next stop. When the railroad bypassed Vinegarroon, they picked up an' moved to Langtry.

"Back to 'at li'l spider," Mel continued. "Judge Bean had a disposition 'bout like a vinegarroon. He wuz always puttin' the squeeze on somebody. Onc't Bean fined a stranger 10 bucks fer slander when he said Lily Langtry, in a pichur hangin' over th' bar in th' Jersey Lilly, looked like a `li'l range heifer.' The man tried to pay his fine with a twenty dollar gold piece. Bean promptly said "Technical Error!" and upped the fine to $20! Another time, they wuz gonna hang this kid for horse thievin.' The boy, in a letter to his mama, wrote `I'm enclosin' $400 I been savin' fer you.' So Bean declared thur'd been a miscarriage o' justice an' reopened the case. Fined the kid $300 an' let him loose!

"One time a guy give him $5 for a drank an' asked fer his change. Bean said, `We don't give change.' The man cussed him out, so Bean arrested him fer disturbin' the peace an' fined him four dollars an four-bits. Onc't, he found a dead man with 41 bucks on him, so he assessed a fine on the corpse fer carryin' a pistol. He'd fine a fellar fer per'jry jist 'cause he miscounted an' then charge him with contempt if he protested. Bean set up shop on the railroad at Langtry so he could shake down ever' body stepped off an' on the train. A favorite trick wuz to delay takin'a passenger's money 'til th' whistle blew an' th' train started to pull away. Then Bean'd drop th' money an' play like he couldn't find it so th' customer couldn't wait on his change."

"Sounds about like some of the small-town speed traps and tax schemes imposed on folks today."

"Yep," Mel mused, "but if I had my druthers, I'd go for Bean's brand o' justice. Least you could get outta yore fine by goin' to jail or th' gallows. Today, they jist keep pilin' on penalties an' interest that don't eben quit when thur shovelin' the dirt on top of you!"