Austin360 blogs > Out & About > Archives > 2011 > October > 27 > Entry
Voices from beyond the Oakwood Cemetery grave: Susanna Dickinson
While I’m in California on vacation, I’d like to share something special.
Community historian Danny Camacho has written a series of beautiful monologues to go with the Save Austin’s Cemeteries’ annual “Murder, Mayhem and Misadventure Tour” at Oakwood Cemetery, which takes place Saturday. From 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., actors will play various characters from Austin’s past who are buried in this egalitarian graveyard.
“Well come on. Don’t be shy. I know why your here. Gather round. You’ve read the books or heard others talk about the Alamo, but I’m the only one who was there now left to tell the story.
I was born Susanna Wilkerson in Tennessee, 1814. At age 15, I married Almaron Dickinson in May of ‘29. In no time at all we had ‘Gone to Texas.’
We traveled down the Mississippi to New Orleans. It was the biggest town I was ever to see, but we were just passing through We boarded a schooner on the Gulf and on to Texas. We reached Galveston in ‘31 and then in was by wagon to our land grant on the San Marcus River.
My husband started a business in Gonzales. Our daughter, Angelina Elizabeth Dickinson, was born Dec. 14, 1834. It wasn’t long after, that all the troubles began.
In October of ‘35, Mexican troops came and my Almaron joined the other menfolk at the Battle of Gonzales. The Mexicans left and Almaron joins with other settlers and goes to San Antonio. It’s hard being a woman alone with a babe, so I join him in December. I open a table, I could always cook and did laundry.
We knew the Mexicans were coming, but not when. In late February of ‘36 they came. A lookout in the church belltower raises the alarm. We all go into the Alamo compound with what provisions and stores we can carry.
In no time at all we are surrounded by about 1,500 Mexican soldiers. That first week, Mexican cannons fire night and day. It’s a terrible noise, no one can sleep and the baby is fretful and cries.
Not many days later, I’m outside a looking up into the sky, A way up high, in the distance, I see what looks like the water of the Gulf I saw when we were on that boat coming to Texas. It’s a Blue Norther. When it is just overhead, I can hear the wind a coming and then the cold, bitter cold. We have no fire wood and no way to get any. Even in the church it’s so cold.
Very early on the morning of March 6 the attack begins. With clouds hiding the moon, Mexican soldiers are almost upon us. We are awakened by bugle calls and shouts of ‘Viva, Santa Anna!’ My husband comes into the small room of the church we are in for safety. He says the Mexicans have come up over the walls.
He kisses Angelina and me goodbye and that is the last I ever see of him. We can hear the noise of the fighting; cannon and rifle fire, the shouts of the men. It sounds like the end of the world.
The double wooden main-doors of the church creaks as they are torn apart and Mexican soldiers pour in. I fear I have breathed my last, what will become of my child? They come into the room. Seeing that we are all women and children they don’t kill us.
All the men are killed. I’m taken with my babe before Santa Anna. He is in his general’s uniform — all gold-braids and buttons, and a chest full of shinny medals. He questions me and then gives orders that I’m to be given a blanket and two dollars in silver.
Truth be told, he treats me better then some of the men I was to latter marry. He gives me a pony to ride and a slave that wasn’t killed to watch over Angelina and I. He tells me to go back to Gonzales and tell Sam Houston what I’ve seen. On our way a scouting party from Gonzales finds us and I carry the message to Sam Houston himself.
Well you know all that happened after that. I was just glad to be out of it. Life was hard for a woman alone with a babe. In ‘37 I married John Williams. If I had known what a bad man he was I wouldn’t have bothered. He beat me and Angelia. I divorced and was well rid of him.
The next year I married Francis Herring in Houston. He was a drunkard and dies from liquor in ‘43.
Still looking for a good man, I marry Peter Bellow in ‘47. He turns out to be as bad as the last two. We separated and he files for divorce. The lying so-and-so calls me a harlot.
So here I was, widowed twice and divorced the same. I move to Lockhart and open a boarding house; I always set a good a table.
It’s there in ‘57 that I meet Joseph William Hanning from Germany. He’s a carpenter and we marry, though there is some talk about he being 20 years my junior. We move to Austin. My Joe opens up a shop, then a furniture store and has a side business of undertaking.
This is the happiest time of my life.
I have at last a good loving husband and am taking care of my grandchildren. I become ill and in October of ‘83 move out here to Oakwood. My Joe puts up this fine marble marker for me. He later moves to San Antonio. He remarries, but in 1890 comes back to me. As you can see we lie side by side, the closest of any couple here.
This has been my Joe’s and my home now for all these many years. Here, with my grandchildren and all our Austin friends and neighbors around is where we’ll stay.”
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Comments
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By Leslie Wolfenden
October 27, 2011 3:18 PM | Link to this
What a great skit -- I can't wait for Saturday's Halloween walking tour!
By TexasRose
October 27, 2011 2:19 PM | Link to this
Fascinating! I have been to the Lockhart cemetery tour, but had not known of the Austin one. It is VERY interesting to hear local history speak...