Santa Anna and Sam Houston

Sam Houston's life was a little bit rocky. He was born in Virginia in 1793, and his dad (also named Sam) died in 1806. His mom then moved the family to a farm near Maryville, Tennessee where Mrs. Houston set up a general store.

But Sam, at age 16 and finding the hardscrabble and mercantile life not congenial, left home. He moved east to the middle of the state and began to live with the Cherokees. There he learned their language, adopted their way of dress, and made friends.

Although Sam liked the Native American's relaxed philosophy to life, after a year he returned home and ran a school. The school did pretty well, and it generated enough income for him to pay off his debts. He then returned to the Cherokees who formally adopted him as a member of the tribe.

His stay was brief, though, because in 1812 Congress declared war on England. So Sam returned home and joined the Army. His ability and bravery under fire caught the attention of General Andrew Jackson whose knack for winning decisive battles after the war was over made him America's #1 hero.

Once Mr. Madison's War was done and because of Sam's connections with the Cherokees, he was appointed as Indian agent to the tribe. Still a lieutenant in the army, Sam's tendency to prefer the Cherokee apparel irritated some of Washington's more staid politicians - including the Secretary of War James Calhoun. We also have the first whiff of controversy as Sam was accused of being involved in the slave trade which the Constitution had banned after 1808.

Stung by the accusations, Sam handled the matter more and more in a way that Americans were finding effective. Got a problem? Well, just up and move. There was plenty of room in the new nation. So Sam left the army and moved to Nashville to study law. He hung up his shingle in 1818.

Not that Sam had given up on government service. With the help of Andy, Sam rose in the ranks of the Democratic party. He served in Congress from 1823 to 1827 when he returned to Tennessee and was elected governor. Things were looking quite rosy.

But ... [you knew there would be a "but"]...

On January 22, 1829, after a year in office, the dashing, handsome governor married Eliza Allen, the refined, beautiful daughter of a wealthy planter, Colonel John Allen. She was nineteen and Sam was thirty-five.

The day after the wedding, Sam and Eliza stayed overnight at the home of two friends, John and Martha Martin. In the morning Sam and the Martin's daughters went outside and got into a snowball fight. When Eliza came into the parlor Martha laughingly said that Sam was getting the worst of it. Eliza said quite seriously, "I wish they would kill him."

Martha was nonplussed and didn't know what to say. Eliza then repeated, "Yes, I wish from the bottom of my heart they would kill him." Then after eleven weeks she walked out and a week later Sam resigned as governor.

So what went wrong? The marriage looked like a great match. The age difference wasn't that odd for the time, and Sam was marrying into a good (and wealthy) family. For her part Eliza was hooking up with an already established public figure who was a good friend of the man who had just been elected President of the United States.

Of course, good connections don't guarantee a happy marriage. But people were certainly surprised. Davy Crockett - then serving as one of Tennessee's nine congressmen - wrote a friend, "... a Circumstance tooke place [Davy didn't always spell so good] last Saturday which created much excitement. Our Governor Houston has parted with his wife." Rumors abounded as to what went on and sympathy seemed to be with Eliza. Sam was even burned in effigy.

Sam never discussed the matter, saying it was private. There is a probably apocryphal story that one of his friends asked him what had happened. Sam leaned forward and asked, "Can you keep a secret". On receiving an affirmative reply, Sam said "So can I."

Emily, though, wasn't so taciturn and was reported to have told the story to Bailie Peyton, who had been a Congressman for Tennessee. Unfortunately, Bailie only spilled the beans on his death bed in 1878, supposedly quoting Eliza's words verbatim while his daughter, Emily, took down his words. The manuscript was then sequestered until it showed up in 1960.

Certainly we have what has to be historically the most suspect and least reliable information possible - a "deathbed confession" repeating words of someone else spoken years before and written down in an account that didn't show up for nearly a century. Nevertheless, here's what Eliza (supposedly) said:

I left General Houston because I found he was a demented man. I believe him to be crazy! He is insanely jealous and suspicious. He required of me not to speak to anyone, and to lock myself in my room if he was absent even for a few moments, and this when we were guests in my own aunt's house! On one occasion he went away early to attend to affairs in the city of Nashville, ... and after he was gone, I found he had locked the door and carried off the key, leaving me a prisoner until late at night, without food, debarred from the society of my relatives, and a prey to chagrin, mortification and hunger. He gives additional evidence of an unsound mind by his belief in ghosts - he was timid and averse to being alone at night on account of these imaginary and supernatural influences ... I should never have consented to marry him had I not been attracted by his brilliant conversation and his handsome and commanding presence. I parted from General Houston because he evinced no confidence in my integrity and had no respect for my intelligence, or trust in my discretion. I could tell you many incidents to prove this, but I would not say, or do, anything to injure him.

Obviously there's problems with this scenario. C'mon, Sam locks Eliza up in a room in her aunt's house and then leaves? And it never occurred to Eliza to pound on the door and call to be let out? And if there's one person not likely to be scared of ghosts it was Sam Houston.

Actually, the best information we have is that Eliza had really wanted to marry someone else, possibly a physician named Elmore Douglass. But her dad had pressured her to dump Elmore and marry Sam. However, because Eliza remained married to Sam, Elmore married another Eliza, Eliza Fulton, in 1818. She bore Elmore eleven children and died in 1835. Our Eliza - whose marriage with Sam had finally been nullified - was then able to marry Elmore. The couple had four children, and Eliza died in 1861. Elmore followed four years later.

In any case, it was back to the Cherokees for Sam. His way of passing the time landed him a new name. Originally his native friends named him "Co-lo-neh" or "The Raven". But now the story was he acquired a new monicker: "Oo-tse-tee Ar-dee-tah-skee" or "The Big Drunk".

By the end of the 1830's, Sam was living in Indian Territory (present day Oklahoma) at Tahlontuskee which is about 30 miles south-southeast of the present Cherokee capital of Tahlequah. This was just after the Indian Removal Act had been passed but the Cherokees had already been - quote - "encouraged" - unquote - to clear out of Tennessee and move to lands in the west to make room for white settlers. The tribes were assured that they would be able to live in their new homeland forever - subject to a few minor provisos, of course.

Of course.

When in Tahlontuskee, Sam made sure to document his tribal membership as a bonafide citizen of the Cherokee nation. Then should anyone ask, he could prove he was entitled to all the advantages that native citizenship entailed. And it was in 1830 that Sam married a Native American woman named Diana (or Tiana) Rogers without, we should say, bothering to officially dissolve his union with Eliza.

In the years 1830 and 1831, Sam was an active member of the Tribe. He wrote newspaper articles under an Indian pseudonym and together with some partners purchased the Grand Saline salt works (near the present day town of Salina) which was then being run by the children of Auguste-Pierre Chouteau. Things went pretty good - it was quite a lucrative business - but then Sam learned he couldn't own land in Indian territory.

What the hey? He was a Cherokee citizen and a member of the tribe, for crying out loud! What was going on?

Soddy, said the government. They showed Sam his citizenship papers - his US citizenship papers. Dual citizenship or not, US citizens could not own land in Indian Territory.

Sam's options as a member of the tribe were suddenly limited. So he did a very Sam Houston thing. He just cleared out without, we should say, bothering to obtain an official separation from Diana.

Sam always claimed that what he had done was above board. By virtue of his Cherokee citizenship, regarding his marriage he could operate under Cherokee law. In that case simply "splitting the blanket" - i. e., moving out - constituted official separation. Both parties could marry again which is what both Diana and Sam eventually did.

Fortunately, Sam's friend, Andy Jackson, was still President of the United States. Andy asked him to negotiate with the Mexicans about protecting the Indian rights. That meant relocating to East Texas where some Cherokees had settled in the early 1800's.

But that was fine with Sam as suddenly he had another impetus to clear out. He had taken umbrage with some comments of Congressman William Stanbery of Ohio. William had accused Sam of cheating the Cherokees when he had been governor of Tennessee. The conflict might have remained verbal except that Sam returned to Washington for a visit. Then when walking along Pennsylvania Avenue, he bumped into William. After a few harsh words, Sam called William a "d----d Rascal" (this is, after all, a family website) and started bashing at William with his cane (all gentlemen carried canes whether they needed them or not).

Congress did not take kindly to ruffians like Sam thrashing its members and launched an investigation. Although Sam hired Francis Scott Key to defend him (yes, the same Francis Scott Key who wrote "The Star Spangled Banner") and appeared in the House of Representatives in person, he was quickly reprimanded by Congress. The story is that Andy then gave Sam a loan so he could "git" to Texas.

No one really thought Sam would be returning anytime soon. He set up a law office at Nacogdoches and agreed to become a Catholic. So it seems he was planning to become a citizen of Mexico.

Texas, though, was becoming more and more troublesome for the government in Mexico City. And it all started because of the business plans of two Americans, Moses Austin and his son Stephen.

Moses had begun a number of business ventures (particularly lead mining) in the early 1800's, but he found that most of his success came when working outside the boundaries of the United States. But then there'd be some brouhaha - a treaty or a war - and Moses would find himself back in the Good Old USA. He kept moving west until he found himself in the state of Coahuila y Texas, the northernmost region of what was then Spanish Mexico.

Moses's plan was to bring in new settlers. Moses and his son Stephen had made an agreement that they and their followers would be loyal citizens of Mexico (and Spain) and convert to Catholicism. But then word had got out that there was good land to be had in Texas.

So a lot of US citizens began sneaking in who didn't care dos piezas de mierda about any agreement Moses or Stephen made. Nor did they want to give up their US citizenship. Soon there were more alien Anglos living in Texas than Mexicans. And more and more of the Americans were thinking it might be a good idea to go back to the US - and take Texas with them.

Now we can't blame the Americans for that attitude completely. After all, when Moses signed the original agreement, they were part of the Spanish Empire which allowed the individual states in Mexico to exercise considerable autonomy. But in 1821, Mexico won its independence from Spain, and one of the heroes of the War of Independence was soon elected president. That was Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna.

Antonio loved the workings of democracy if it would get him elected. But once in office he had decided that freedom and the right of the citizens to take part in government was a bunch of hogwash. Instead, an elite needed to rule. And the fewer the better. And what could be better than the fewest number possible? That meant him, and so Antonio got himself voted dictator.

Antonio, like most dictators, didn't like ruling countries with autonomous provinces. So he began to dismantle the Mexican Constitution. Government became centralized and the states were relegated to being administrative districts whose purpose was to facilitate the bidding of the federal government. That meant, of course, Antonio.

The Texans didn't like the new rules, but they were willing to negotiate. So in 1833, they got together and proposed that Texas become an independent Mexican state rather than being - as it was - the northern part of the State of Coahuila. But when Stephen Austin (Moses had died in 1821) went to Mexico City with this most moderate request, he was thrown in the juzgado.

¡Basta! In October 1835, the Texans met at Washington-on-the-Brazos and decided to declare an independent republic. The Mexican government - that is, Antonio - quickly declared the declarants to be piratas, that is, "pirates". So they were no longer subject to the few remaining rights of Mexican citizens.

Antonio got his army together and personally led them north. Showing no mercy and taking few prisoners, he won every battle he fought.

Except one.

You see, when the Texans voted for independence they had also voted for Sam to be the general of their new army. But Sam was too experienced and intelligent to think that a small group of frontiersmen could defeat a professional army like Antonio's. His strategy wasn't to fight and run away. It was just to run away.

The politicians were particularly irritated that Sam avoided even the smallest skirmish. When he arrived at Goliad he told one of the officers, a rather raffish character named Jim Bowie who carried a big knife, to go to the Alamo mission at San Antonio and blow it up.

But by the time Jim reached San Antonio, another group of Texans under the command of William Travis were there and standing firm. By early February 1836 there were nearly 200 men behind the walls of the mission, plus a few women and children and one slave. Then on February 13, Antonio and his army reached the Alamo.

We have to be honest here. Antonio has to be one of the strangest men to hold political office or lead an army. And to do both was really asking for trouble.

For one thing, Antonio got bored easily. If things were calm he'd lose interest and more or less ignore his job. But a leader ignoring his job inevitably causes a crisis and Antonio would then take charge again. Then he'd get bored and a new crisis would rise up. So he'd step aside again and let someone clean up his mess.

It's not easy telling how often Antonio was president. The number from 1833 to 1855 Antonio is given as anything from five to eleven times. Part of the problem is defining what it means to be president again. Once Antonio even staged a coup against himself.

Antonio had been born in Vera Cruz in 1795 and had begun his career at age 16 as a military cadet. At that time Mexico was ruled by Spain although there were insurgents fighting for independence. Fighting for Spain under Joaquín de Arredondo, Antonio noted how effective Joaqín dealt with captured rebels by simply lining them up and shooting them down.

But in 1821, Antonio changed sides and started fighting with the rebels. When the war was over and the Mexican War of Independence won, Antonio became governor of Vera Cruz. Then when Spain tried to invade Mexico, Antonio again led the troops. After repelling the invasion, he found himself the hero of the hour. In 1833, he was elected El Presidente by the proverbial landslide.

Now, though, Antonio was at the Alamo and getting tired of waiting for the "pirates" to surrender. So at dawn on March 6, 1836, he ordered his troops - about 7000 soldiers - to attack.

You'll hear Antonio executed 189 of the Texans. He spared only the few women, a group which included Susan Dickinson and Susan's young daughter, Angelina. The wife and children of Gregorio Esparza, one of the defenders, were also released. This included Enrique, Gregorio's eight year old son who lived until 1917 and is considered to be the last living eyewitness to the battle. Antonio also spared William Travis's slave, Joe, probably because slavery was illegal in Mexico.

Strictly speaking Antonio killed 183 of the Americans during the attack and executed "only" the last six. But Antonio was irritated that any of the defenders had been captured. So when his officers showed up with prisoners - whom they called brave men - Antonio went into a spittle-flinging diatribe and ordered the captives to be shot.

Some historians think that one those who survived only to be executed was Davy Crockett. This, though, doesn't agree with the account of Susan, who saw Davy lying as if he had been killed fighting. In any case, Davy had shown horrible timing since he had shown up at the last minute. Today, of course, Davy is most famous for wearing a coonskin cap and buckskin shirt. Presumably he wore trousers of some kind but no one ever mentions them.

Whether Davy wore the racoon cap of legend is a matter of surprisingly heated debate. Despite Susan saying she saw Davy lying on the ground with his "peculiar cap" and there is a description describing it in more detail as the hat of popular legend, the accounts came down to us years after the event and second hand.

One of Antonio's problems is that he - like many executives - thought making a quick decision was the same as making a correct decision. His decisions at the Alamo were quick, yes, and another quick decision was soon to come.

After the Alamo, Antonio led his army to the fort at Goliad. Here the garrison of about 400 men surrendered. Against the wishes of his officers, Antonio lined up the 349 or 400 or 450 prisoners and shot them down. Some of the Texans weren't killed by the volley, and they later snuck away.

To paraphrase the famous quote that was probably never spoken by anyone, the Alamo and Goliad were not just crimes, they were blunders. "Remember the Alamo!" and "Remember Goliad!" became rallying cries (although most people today only remember the first). Now it was clear the Texans had no chance of surviving a battle unless they won.

For his part Antonio decided there was nothing easier than fighting the Texans. Good grief, they ran away so fast that the hardest thing was catching them. Those were his thoughts when on April 21, 1836, he told his soldiers to make camp near the small San Jacinto River and take a snooze.

Although Antonio knew that Sam was nearby, he figured the Texans wouldn't be so discourteous as to attack during siesta time. And Sam, never caring much for customs and protocol, ordered the attack just then. About 700 Mexican soldiers were killed and an equal number taken prisoner. The Texans lost 9 men.

Antonio got away and was trying to escape in either an ordinary soldier's uniform or peasant's garb. But Sam ordered everyone to keep a sharp eye out for stragglers. Soon Antonio was brought in to the camp although he wasn't recognized.

That is, not by the Texans. But the Mexican prisoners immediately began to shout "El Presidente!" and saluted. Since they didn't particularly like Antonio, you wonder if they greeted their commander with an ulterior motive.

So Sam came face to face with Antonio. Sam had received a serious leg wound but was well enough to negotiate. In the end Antonio agreed to go back to Mexico and give Texas its independence. So ended the Battle of San Jacinto. You can visit the monument commemorating the battle and there's a pretty good restaurant nearby.

For some reason in the local Texas (English) dialect San Jacinto is pronounced "san-jah-SIN-toe" with the "J" spoken as in English. Of course, the Mexican pronunciation (and "Jacinto" is a Spanish name) is "san-hah-SIN-toe").

This Spanish-to-English switch is odd since in Texas Spanish pronunciations are common. You'll sometimes hear "Texas" pronounced "TAY-hahs" and "Mexia" in pronounced "muh-HAY-uh", sort of like the proper Spanish "meh-HEE-ah". It's definitely NOT "MECKS-ee-ah". In some cases there's a basic Spanish pronunciation but with typical linguistic changes. "Bexar" (as in Bexar County) is "BAY-har" in Spanish but colloquial use has elided the x/h-sound and locals say "Bear", as in the animal. Those with a smattering of Spanish might see "bexar" as an alternate spelling of "bejar" but which is itself not a Spanish word. However, linguists seem to think the county name is actually derived from "abeja" (ah-BAY-hah) which means "bee".

After the Battle of San Jacinto, Antonio had to get back to Mexico. As he wasn't too popular in Texas, it seemed safest to put him on a United States ship which took him first to Washington. There he met Andy Jackson and then returned home.

As you might guess, he was not a popular man. The politicians decided Antonio had over-stripped his authority in granting Texas independence. So they immediately rescinded the agreement.

Not that it mattered. The Texans were left alone and there was no serious effort to reclaim the province. But Antonio got the boot as president.

For a while, at least. Antonio was living on his hacienda when France invaded Mexico in 1838. Yes, France. France had claimed Mexico owed them money from the Mexican War of Independence, both from the personal losses of French citizens as well as unpaid government loans. The total amount was assessed at 600,000 pesos. But when the payments weren't forthcoming France sent in the troops.

Antonio was recalled to service, and when the French landed at Vera Cruz, he lost both the battle and his leg. Eventually there was a negotiated settlement. But for some reason, the Mexican people saw Antonio as a hero and his leg was given a state funeral. From then on, Antonio used a prosthetic leg.

A big surprise to most Americans is that Antonio is not considered a villain in all English speaking countries. There is a popular sea shanty originating in England that sings his praises.

O Santy Anna gained the day.
Hooray, Santy Anna!
O Santy Anna gained the day
All on the plains of Mexico!

O General Taylor ran away.
Hooray, Santy Anna!
He ran away at Monterey
All on the plains of Mexico!

As students of American history will know, this song refers to the Mexican-American War of 1845. And once more we see how adept the Mexican government was at playing musical-dictators. Almost as soon as the Americans declared war, Antonio's popularity from the French invasion evaporated and he had to leave for Cuba. But when the Americans actually invaded the country, he returned and engineered a coup. Then when the War was lost, he was again out as president. In the turmoil he also lost his false leg to an Illinois regiment who brought it back in triumph to Springfield.

Given how the cry of "Remember the Alamo!" resonates in the United States, most Americans are flummoxed when they learn Antonio spent most of his last years living on Staten Island.

Ha? (To quote Shakespeare).

Staten Island?

Yep, Staten Island.

Staten Island, USA?

Yep. Staten Island, USA.

You see, Antonio continued his on-again-off-again cycle as Mexican president up until 1855. It was the same old stuff. He'd become president, get people enthusiastic for whatever he was proposing, fail miserably, and then go into retirement. Then something would happen and people would say, por Dios, we need Antonio again. Then the whole cycle would start over. This went on - literally - for thirty years.

Although Antonio had been very much a public figure in Mexico since the early 1800's, the first photo we have of him was when he was in his late fifties. That's no surprise since real photography in the form of the daguerreotype had been around only about ten years. Surprisingly, El Presidente looks - if not actually tubby - then a little fleshy. More of a surprise is he actually looks like a quite pleasant fellow and only in his later years did he acquire the craggy features which gave him a severely autocratic look.

What caused Antonio's final downfall was when in 1853 he negotiated the Gadsen Purchase where Mexico sold off the southern parts of what are now Arizona and New Mexico to the United States. By then he realized if America wanted the land, they would first offer to buy it and then if the offer was turned down, they'd take it anyway.

In Mexico, though, the Gadsen purchase was the last straw. Antonio had also raised taxes and declared himself His Most Serene Highness, granted himself an indefinite term in office, and claimed the right to name his successor. That was too much for the liberals, including Benito Juarez who was to become a future president and two-time character on the 1960's television series, The Wild Wild West. Support for Antonio crumbled, and he left the country.

Now approaching seventy, Antonio wandered around the Caribbean, and in 1866, finally settled in Staten Island. That he would be allowed in America may seem strange, but Americans have always been willing to let by-gones be by-gones. Besides, it was kind of cool having an ex-Mexican dictator living in your neighborhood.

Then in 1876, Antonio decided once more to (sigh) return to Mexico and run for President. But now over eighty and nearly blind, his return had no impact. He died a year later in Mexico City, leaving a most ambiguous legacy even in Mexico.

But when sitting in Staten Island planning his final fling in politics, Antonio realized he needed money. And it's his plan of getting the pesos that is of particular interest for Americans.

Chewing gum is often seen as a largely American phenomenon and one Swedish representative for the Allied prisoners of war during World War II mentioned talking with the "gum-chewing Americans".

But chewing various gums or waxes to freshen the breath and clean the teeth is older than civilization. In Mexico the natives had been chomping on chicle, the solidified sap of the sapodilla tree, for thousands of year. This was a habit that Antonio had acquired.

One popular informational website stated that when Antonio was living on Staten Island he hired a New Yorker, Thomas Adams, as his private secretary. But Thomas was also an inventor and had been trying to come up with a substitute for rubber. He saw Antonio chewing on chicle and tried to make rubber products out of the springy substance. This didn't work out as the gum is not that similar in molecular structure to rubber. But when Thomas added sugar and pressed the concoction into sticks, hey, presto!, he had chewing gum. Thomas started the Adams Chewing Gum Company and got rich.

So Antonio de Lopez de Santa Anna was responsible for American chewing gum. And yes, the popular informational website gave a reference complete with a footnote.

So can we doubt it?

Well, yes. The footnoted reference was for Thomas's obituary. And the reference did state Tom used chicle to make his gum. But nowhere in the reference - that's nowhere in the reference - is there any mention of Antonio or that Thomas was his secretary.

A footnote, then, don't mean diddly. So the first thing to do when confronted with what may be a bogus story is to actually check out the references. This is particularly important if we're dealing with an event before the invention of the Internet. If the story appeared out of the blue starting in the 1990's but you can't find it anywhere before then, it's almost certainly bogus.

Another characteristic of the bogus story is that the facts keep changing. What makes us concerned about Antonio and the Chewing Gum story is no one really agrees where Thomas first met Antonio. One account is that Thomas and Antonio met when they lived at the same rooming house (unlikely since by then Tom had married and had kids). Or that Antonio lived in Tom's house (possible but not documented). Then as we said, we read that Tom was Antonio's secretary (extremely unlikely).

And then there's the story of how Tom got the idea for chicle. We learn Tom saw Antonio chewing the gum. Or maybe he saw some sitting on a table. How Tom got his first batch of chicle is also in dispute. You'll hear that Antonio ordered a ton of chicle to sell to Tom. Or maybe it was 500 pounds. We also hear Antonio just brought some chicle to chew on when he came to Staten Island. Or it was Tom who ordered the chicle, not Antonio. Then you'll hear that it was really Antonio's real secretary, Rudolph Napegy, who gave Tom the idea.

There also seems to be confusion as to the actual source of our information. Sometimes you'll hear that Horatio - one of Tom's sons - told the story in 1944. That Horatio - Tom, Sr.'s, son and Tom, Jr.'s brother - could have given a speech in 1944 is possible since he died at age 103 in 1956. But then we also read that Horatio was the grandson of Tom, and the son of Tom, Jr.

The problem, then, is not just finding sources. But finding reliable sources.

A good place to look start is university publications. Although not completely free from the odd urban legend, academic books and papers are at least written by people trained for seeking out proper information.

For instance, Dr. Laura Filloy Nadal, director of research at the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City, wrote an article about the history of rubber balls used in ancient South American Native American games. This does not contain the story of Santa Anna although it gives a outline of the use of the chicle as a precursor to our modern rubber. Fortunately, there is an unambiguous source that anyone can locate about Antonio and his connection to American chewing gum. This a story that was published in several pharmaceutical publications in the early 20th century.

On December 16, 1910 - not 1944 - Tom, Jr. - not Horatio - gave a brief talk at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City. This was during a banquet for a group of executives, directors, and salesmen of the Chicle Company and the Sen-Sen Chiclet Company. Tom, Jr.'s contribution to the gaiety of the evening was first described in the American Druggist and Pharmaceutical Record, Volume 57, December 26, 1910, on page 392.

George H. Worthington, president of the American Chicle Company, presided, and introduced Henry Rowley, secretary and treasurer of the American Chicle Company, and president of the Sen-Sen Chicklet Company, upon whom fell the duties of toastmaster. Mr. Rowley called on Thomas Adams, who in a very clever and humorous chat gave a résumé of the inception of the chewing gum industry, incidentally pointing out the fact that the first chicle gum ever brought to America was brought at the instance of General Santa Anna, who submitted it to Thomas Adams, sr., with the statement that it could be used to good advantage as an adulterant for rubber, a project which failed. Yet this old war horse did succeed in fathering an industry, now employing more than 10,000 people, 3,000 of whom are actively engaged in the gathering of the crude material in the forests of Mexico.

So we do have a first-hand article reporting that Tom, Jr., who was actively involved in the business, said Antonio introduced his dad to chicle. This is pretty good for reliability as far as history goes. So we may not know the details, but we can be confident that Antonio de Lopez de Santa Anna was indeed a key figure in establishing the chewing habits of millions of Americans.

As for Sam, he remained a leader in Texas politics after it was annexed by the United States in 1845. He married again (and finally) to Margaret Lea, and became U. S. Senator and then governor of Texas. But his support of national unity during the Civil War forced him out of office, and he retired to private life.

Although we mentioned that Antonio has a popular song written about him, there really isn't a corresponding tune for Sam. There was a horribly treacly song from the late 19th century - printed without the music - called "Sam Houston and the People." And it really stinks.

But at least Sam, unlike Antonio, did have a college named after him. So perhaps it is fitting to leave this essay with the fight song for Sam Houston State University (which is sung to the tune of Semper Paratus). The university is located in Huntsville, Texas and is where Sam breathed his last on July 26, 1863.

Fight, fight you Bearkats!
Fight on through!
We're here in back of you!
You know again
We're here to win
So fight until the end.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Loyal we'll ever be
And true to SHSU
We'll fight and fight
With all our might
For Sam Houston's Orange and White!

References

Sam Houston, James Haley, University of Oklahoma Press, 2002.

"Mex general's Staten Ex-isle", Susannah Cahalan, New York Post, November 13, 2011

Sam Houston with the Cherokees: 1829-1833, Jack Gregory, Rennard Strickland, University of Texas Press, 1967; Reissue: University of Oklahoma Press, 1996.

"Sam Houston and Eliza Allen: The Marriage and the Mystery", Elizabeth Crook, The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Vol. 94, No. 1, pp. 1-36, 1990.

Sam Houston Memorial Museum, Huntsville, Texas. Has a nice website where you can learn a lot about Sam.

Santa Anna of Mexico, Will Fowler, University of Nebraska Press, 2007. No mention of Thomas Adams and the chewing gum story.

Lone Star Nation: How a Ragged Army of Volunteers Won the Battle for Texas Independence - and Changed America, Henry Brands, Doubleday, 2004.

"Santa Anna, Antonio Lopez de", Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Society.

"Antonoio Lóez de Santa Anna", Find-a-Grave, Memorial #11566057, August 9, 2000. Although you may be told that what you read on Find-a-Grave should be viewed cautiously, an Official CooperToons Opinion is the information is generally good, although often unreferenced and sometimes the dates on tombstones are in error. But the uncertainty is really an advantage as you still have to assume responsibility that what you write is properly sourced. The short biography posted by William Bjornstad checks out quite well.

"A Congressional Beating: Sam Houston and William Stanbery", Mark Jones, Boundary Stones, January 9, 2013.

"Dr. Elmore Douglass", Find-a-Grave, Memorial #31458146, Catherine Clemens, James Hill, November 16, 2008.

"Welcome To Texas: Unusual Pronunciation", CBSDFW, Karen Borta, July 24, 2015.

"The Death of David Crockett", Michael Lind, The Wilson Quarterly, Winter, pp. 50 - 57, 1998.

"Santa Anna and the Texas Revolution", Richard Wright, https://www.andrews.edu/~rwright/Oldwww/Alamo/revolution.html

Stalag Luft III: The Secret Story, Arthur Durand, Louisiana State University Press, 1988.

Encyclopedia of Junk Food and Fast Food, Andrew Smith, Greenwood Press, 2006.

"Alleged Warning of Danger Before Chicle Plant Blast Is Being Checked", the New York Times, November 25, 1976.

"Enrique Esparza", Clay Homister, Find-a-Grave, Memorial # 11121201, June 7, 2005.

The Great American Chewing Gum Book, Robert Hendrickson Chilton Book Company, 1976. Tells the story but the quotes seem a bit too detailed.

American Druggist and Pharmaceutical Record, Volume 57, pp. 392 - 393., July - December, 1910, December 26, 1910, American Druggist Publishing Company. Tells about the

N.A.R.D. Notes: The Journal of the National Association of Retail Druggists, Volume 11, National Association of Retail Druggists,, pp. 268, 760., October 13, 1910 - April 6, 1911.

"Chewing Gum Interests Celebrate", Practical Druggist and Pharmaceutical Review of Reviews, Volume 29, January - December, 1911, Benjamin Lillard (Editor)

"The Amazing History of Chewing Gum", Straight Dope, Cecil Adams, May 14, 1976. Mentions Thomas grabbed imported chicle but did not say anything about Santa Anna.

"The American Chicle Company", The Encyclopedia of New York City, New-York Historical Society, Yale University Press, 1996

"Gum Pioneer Notes 102nd Birthday", The Courier-News, Bridgewater, New Jersey, October 27, 1955. This is clearly the son of Thomas, Sr..

"Horatio M. Adams", 1853 - 1956, Find-a-Grave, P. K. McGruder, May 10, 2010.

Chicle: The Chewing Gum of the Americas, from the Ancient Maya to William Wrigley, Jennifer Mathews, pp. 40 - 42, University of Arizona Press, 2009.

"Thomas Adams Jr.", The Hudson River Valley Institute www.hudsonrivervalley.org/library/pdfs/thomasadamsjr.pdf Mentions a connection with Rudolph Napegy, who is secretary to Santa Anna but not that Tom or his dad got the chicle from Santa Anna.

"Thomas Adams Dead: Brooklyn Man Who Made Fortune in Chewing Gum Business.", The New York Times, February 18, 1905.

"Sam. Houston and the people, H. De Marsan, Publisher, 60 Chatham Street, N. Y", American Memories, Library of Congress.

Miscellaneous Websites. There are, of course, many websites about Sam and Antonio. Hopefully we've listed all that we've had used at least tangentially.

 

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