Feature Article on David Kokernot: Rogue Soldier of the Texas Revolution

David Kokernot's first home in Texas was on the shores of the San Jacinto River where it widens and enters San Jacinto Bay. His neighbors were mostly cattle ranchers sparsely scattered over the prairie between there and the Trinity River, fifteen miles away. Kokernot's abuse of those neighbors whom he considered insufficiently patriotic in the ensuing Texas Revolution left a bad taste that survives even to today. The Baytown Sun carried Wanda Orton's feature and review of the Rogue Soldier which will remind readers where that taste came from. Read the full article here (copied with permission of the Sun).

Did Caroline Kokernot's mother stay in Texas during the Battle of San Jacinto?

Kendon Clark, a descendant of William Maley, reminded me of a tradition within the Maley family that I did not write about. What I did write is that during the Texas Revolution David Kokernot rushed his family to Galveston and placed them on a New Orleans bound schooner for safety as the war threatened their home on the San Jacinto River. His mother-in-law, Juliane; wife, Caroline; two toddler daughters; and sixteen year old brother-in-law William Maley went to New Orleans. Only William's fourteen-year-old brother George remained in Texas. In New Orleans the family stayed with David's brother, Louis, who lived with their mother. There Caroline gave birth to the couple's first son, L. M., in June. The whole family returned to Texas, probably in July.

Maley family oral history holds that Juliane did not go to New Orleans, or that she returned early, and helped the war effort by nursing the wounded, feeding soldiers, or providing a wagon and oxen, depending on the account. Some accounts suggest that the two land grants she received were rewards for her service. Another suggests that William, too, remained behind in Texas. These stories are persistent and seem reliable, because they come from Maleys who heard them second hand, rather than third or fourth hand. Yet I discount them and wrote my account as I did because they contradict better evidence, and because there is another explanation for them.

David Kokernot writes about these days before and after the battle in his Reminiscences of 2 Nov 1878, which are reprinted on pages 183-188 of my book. He does not explicitely say who went to New Orleans, only that "Fortunately we found a vessel ready to sail for New Orleans, and we put our families aboard of the schooner, which conveyed them in safety to the city." His description of his subsequent activities in Texas does not mention any of his family members besides George Maley. David's Reminiscences are unreliable, but his errors always seem to be ones of self-aggrandizement or of detail, such as dates or names. Since the Juliane story would be neither, I am inclined to believe that David was saying that only he and George stayed behind.

Customs records in New Orleans are very complete and would include a passenger list showing the family members arriving there. Unfortunately, the Koscuisko, the only vessel which traveled from Texas to New Orleans in the correct time frame, evaded customs. Only the port log, published in the newspaper, documents its arrival. For the return journey to Texas, there are no port logs or customs records available for these months in the newborn Republic.

The weeks before the Battle of San Jacinto were a time of panic for civilians fleeing the approach of the Mexican Army. Some families stayed behind, but it seems logical that Juliane would want to accompany her seven-month-pregnant daughter to New Orleans to care for her until well after her son's birth on June 6. They may not have known it before their arrival in New Orleans, but David's mother was not there. She had gone to New York to marry Alexander Hart, making it less likely that Juliane would leave Caroline without either mother present for her lying-in. Protecting their Texas home or aiding the war effort would seem like insufficient motivation.

Juliane's two land grants were not rewards for service. As a widow with a family, Juliane was entitled to the same headright as a man under Mexican law--a league and a labor, that is, 4428 plus 177 acres. She received her headright league on August 19, 1835, as described on pages 58-60. It straddled Cedar Bayou near the league David received at the same time, about twenty miles from their home on the San Jacinto River. Neither of them lived on or used the land and they both sold their leagues to James Morgan less than six months later (page 62). The Republic of Texas honored the same headright obligations as Mexico and in 1838 granted Juliane a certificate for the labor she had not received earlier. In 1839 her acreage was surveyed in the Cove area and was formally patented in 1847, probably by her son William, since Juliane was already dead and George was in Gonzales County.

Another piece of evidence argues that Juliane did not stay, or return early to Texas. In 1894, Juliane's children tried to reclaim by lawsuit the league she had sold to James Morgan in 1836, arguing that Juliane had not consented to the sale, despite four witnesses to the contract. The lawsuit file (pages 243-244) contains several interesting depositions, including one by Caroline describing their flight to New Orleans. She said "My mother and me went back to New Orleans and stayed while the war was going on in Texas, and after it was over we all came back to Texas...My son L. M. Kokernot was about one month old when we came back from New Orleans" (pages 82 and 226). Additional depositions reveal other interesting, but unrelated, assertions: William and George had a brother who died in Philadelphia, and their father, George Sr., died in Philadelphia before the family left for Texas, not en route as most Maley descendants have written.

If Juliane was in New Orleans just before and after the Battle of San Jacinto, what is the source for the stories of her aiding soldiers? As it turns out, she did aid the war effort after her return. A German mining engineer, Eduard Harkort, was assigned by James Morgan the task of fortifying the Galveston waterfront against an expected Mexican attack after San Jacinto. Harkort was scouring the countryside for timber to haul to Galveston. His diary has been published, but it ends abruptly on July 17 while he was searching and mapping Galveston Bay in the vicinity of Edwards Point. He had taken ill and died of yellow fever three weeks later, on August 11, at the Kokernots' home nearby. He had doubtless been nursed in his final days by Juliane Maley. Harkort came from Westphalia, only a hundred miles from Juliane's birthplace in Hesse Kassel in today's Germany. Imagine the comfort Juliane provided Harkort, a fellow countryman who spoke the same German dialect as she. Imagine also, the stories Juliane told her children and grandchildren about nursing the sick victim, Eduard Harkort.

Kokernot Cattle Brands

Cattle brands almost always tell a story, and the Kokernots' brands are no exception. Within a couple of weeks of the family's 1853 arrival in Gonzales County, David Kokernot registered his cattle brands at the courthouse. For his own brand, he chose his wife's initials, "CK." She, in turn, chose his initials, "LK." Why?

All the cattle they brought from Colorado County carried the "CK" brand. Caroline claimed them as her separate property--an inheritance from her mother--and thus beyond the reach of David's creditors. Perhaps because he had no creditors yet in Gonzales County, David registered them in his own name. The "LK" brand was newly available because P. L. Kessler had claimed it in 1848 and failed to renew the registration. At that time, one person could only register a single brand, so Caroline Kokernot grabbed the "LK" brand.

Their seventeen-year-old son L. M. had registered his brand in Colorado County at age fifteen and doubtless brought a few head to Gonzales. "LK" would be a natural choice for him, so he registered it, but with the "L" reversed, as shown above. Over the decades, that brand would appear on the rumps of hundreds of thousands of cattle all over Texas, Indian Territory, Kansas, and Wyoming.

What do Theodore Clapp, Congo Square, and galjoots have in common?

They're all persons, places, or things found in the index to David Kokernot: Rogue Soldier of the Texas Revolution. So, too, are "grand larceny," "O6," and "Old Igo" among the 1007 entries in the index.

Indexing is surprisingly difficult. The indexer must place himself in the mind of the reader to imagine the information he would seek and the terms he would use to find it. The author is probably the least able to do this, especially if he has worked a decade writing the book. I tried it, quickly gave up, and hired a professional indexer, Melody Englund, to do it. Take a look. I'm sure you will agree she did an excellent job.

Real soon now...

It is a humbling experience. The first time an editor returns an author's precious words to him with a few suggestions and comments, and he finds the first page covered in red blood. Fortunately for me, this was not my first time. Defensive instincts still rise, but when you have a good editor like I do--Kathy Carter--it's easy to overcome them and dig in, searching for solutions to the problems posed by the editor. With my first draft, shown here, those problems were pretty massive. Their solutions required rearranging chapters, chopping much text, and writing new text (preceded by new research).


The second draft, offered after a year of rewriting, came back with less red blood, and the third had even less. Only after three passes of editing did I engage a book designer (Fiona Raven) to create the shape of the book itself--the fonts, the page layouts, the positioning and appearance of photos and maps--and the crucial front cover. As of today, the book has been typeset to Fiona's specifications and a second editor is proofreading it (Kathy and I have both seen it so many times we're blind to any remaining errors). After proofreading a professional indexer will do his magic. Then, finally, printing. Expect the final product in June.

Major Editing to Kokernot Book and Book Site

Whoopee! As a result of the developmental advice of my editor, Kathy Carter, I have completed a major edit of David Kokernot's biography. By "major," I mean huge sections cut, others added, others relegated to appendices. I turned in the last of those rewrites to Kathy a couple of weeks ago. She has responded with many good suggestions for improvements, but they're not of the "delete this chapter" type. I have edited the book site, which includes chapter summaries, to match the new book structure. Take a look. I'm talking to book designers now and hope to publish in early 2012.

One item I would like to include as an appendix, but do not yet have, is David Kokernot's Reminiscences, published as five letters to the editor of the Gonzales Weekly Inquirer in 1878. Some of these were republished in 1923, but I want the 1878 versions, carefully checked against microfilms of the newspaper, and in MS Word format. If you have such a thing, or know where I can get it, so I don't have to transcribe from the originals, please let me know.

Why Are New Orleans Burials Above Ground?

The search for burial places of Kokernot kin in New Orleans a few years ago brought me to Dispersed of Judah Cemetery on Canal Street, about three miles from the French Quarter. David Kokernot's brother, Louis, has a tombstone there. Louis's wife, Nancy; their children George Washington and Miriam Virginia; and Nancy's brother Benjamin all share the single tombstone shown in the photo. New Orleans is a wonderful place to explore old cemeteries because the residents seemed to be very extravagant in their tombstones, or rather their crypts, which are almost all above ground.

But look at this photo. Jews believe in "dust to dust" and insist on burying their dead. Look at the Christian cemetery in the background, with its tombs above ground. I've been told the reason is the high water table in New Orleans, which would cause a buried coffin to float to the surface and even be carried away in a flood. Really? I observed no floating bodies in the Jewish cemetery, even shortly after Katrina. In fact, I don't see why a coffin should float if it isn't water tight.

Could it be that people don't like the idea of their bodies immersed in water? Dirt's ok, but water's not? Or could it be that an above-ground vault allows more opportunity for creative extravagance?

Wreck of the Ceaser

"...to find a good schooner of light draught and about 150 tons burden and to charter the same" were David Kokernot's orders from the Revenue Cutter Service. So he "chartered the schooner Julius Caesar" and set out for pass Barataria, which was "alive with smugglers." Kokernot's tale that follows is an exciting one, with a hurricane, shipwreck on a deserted shore, death, rescue by children, and eventual return to New Orleans just in time for the birth of his first child. Almost none of it is true.

What is true is that David Kokernot cruised to Texas and was shipwrecked and returned in time for Elizabeth Kokernot's birth. Contemporary documents--newspapers, Customs and Cutter Service records--tell the true story, and it's almost as good as the one Kokernot tells. It's also good for a chapter in length, so here I'll just tell the story of the vessel itself.

The vessel was named the Ceaser, and it was purchased and registered with the Customs Service on July 8, 1831, just three days before its departure. The registration documents give the vessel's length as sixty-five feet; beam, thirteen feet; and the depth of its hold, three feet, one inch. This is extraordinarily broad and shallow for an ocean going schooner and suggests the Ceaser was built for inland trading instead. It would be ideal for shallow waters, such as Lake Pontchartrain and the bayous of Louisiana. In fact the previous owner, Felix Boyer, had not registered it when it was new in 1818 but rather had enrolled it with the Customs Service. Enrollment was cheaper than registration, but did not permit international trade, such as with Texas, Havana, Haiti, or, before 1821, Florida. Not a problem for Boyer, who probably never ventured onto the Gulf of Mexico.

Ceaser was far smaller than the 150 tons that Kokernot described. Tonnage is an estimate of the cargo capacity of a vessel and is calculated from the vessel length, width, and depth of the hold, yielding 25 38/95 tons for Ceaser.

The Ceaser did not head for Barataria, as Kokernot claimed he was ordered, but instead sailed toward Texas and quickly encountered severe weather. In Kokernot's telling he sent all crew and passengers, except himself and two others, "below." This is unlikely, since the hold was only three feet deep and, he claimed, had two feet of water in it. I have seen drawings of small schooners with a cabin, three feet tall or so, on deck. Ceaser may have had such a cabin covering access to the hold. It could provide shelter from weather and permit standing upright with feet on the floor of the hold.

At thirteen years Ceaser was old for a wooden vessel operating in the tropics and was probably not structurally sound. Rough weather would inflict a lot of pounding, so it isn't surprising she quickly developed leaks when sailing on the fringes of a hurricane.

Carlyn Iverson created the adjacent rendering of the Ceaser about to wreck, based on what we know about the vessel, on sketches of later scow schooners, and on some informed guesses. Her hull is broad and flat, and her prow blunt, allowing her to navigate shallow lakes and bayous and nudge straight into shore for unloading. Rather than a fixed keel board she probably had a retractable centerboard for the same reason. The hold was small, so the deck was used for living space as well as additional freight stowage. Under storm conditions both the mainsail and jibs were completely furled and the foresail half furled. The crew was trying to find deep enough water to thread their way into the Sabine River for shelter but instead grounded on the sandy bottom. The old and worn Ceaser quickly broke apart, but the crew salvaged all the cargo and made their way to the remote sandy shore just ahead.

Kokernot's description of the Ceaser was flawed. How about his description of the rest of the voyage? Why did they go to Texas instead of Barataria? Was the Ceaser chartered by the Revenue Cutter Service? Who owned it? Who commanded it? What was Kokernot's part in the tale? What was in the hold? Who was the fifteen year old Yiddish speaking lad on board who had only arrived from Amsterdam the previous month? All these excellent questions will be answered in Chapter Four of my equally excellent biography of David Kokernot.

Locking through from the North Sea

When David Kokernot's ancestors on his mother's side arrived in Amsterdam from Hamburg in 1710 they probably entered the city through this lock. Passage from Hamburg via the North Sea could be accomplished in a small vessel because the route was protected by barrier islands. From the North Sea they entered and crossed the Zuiderzee, then the Oudezijds Voorburgwal canal by way of this lock. The lock chamber is about 150 yards long and about fifteen feet wide. The Amsterdam side is shown here. The other end of the chamber connects, ultimately, to the North Sea. I had to ponder the operation of those gates before I understood their operation, for they never opened or closed during the week I was there.

The unique feature of this lock, or any in Amsterdam, is it can lift or lower a vessel, coming or going. Most locks only operate with one side higher than the other. Take the Ballard Locks in Seattle, which lower vessels from Lake Union to Puget Sound or raise them going the other direction. Puget Sound is always lower than Lake Union, even at high tide. Mitered lock gates hold back the waters of Lake Union like this: Puget Sound>....lock chamber.....>Lake Union, where > represents a pair of swinging lock gates. The higher water to the right of the gates holds them shut. Only when water is allowed to fill the chamber through another passageway can the gates swing open.

In Amsterdam, however, the canals could be either above or below the Zuiderzee side, depending on the tides. Therefore, two sets of lock gates, swinging in opposite directions, are required. High water on the right side requires this configuration: >. Low water on the right requires this: <. You can see one side of the gates in the photo here, recessed into the chamber wall. Each is hinged to swing in the opposite direction from the other.

In the early twentieth century a dike was placed across the Zuiderzee, isolating it from the North Sea. It was filled with fresh water from the Amstel, was renamed the IJsselmeer, and sees no tidal swings. The water level is equalized on each side of this lock and the gates are simply kept open.