The Horned Toad Collection: A Texas Legend

My great-great-great grandfather lived his last days near a little town called Eastland, just southwest of Fort Worth in Texas. I don't have any memories of him, but I have a tiny horned toad statue from that little town and a bona fide tall tale about how it came to be.

 

 

The Legend of Old Rip:

On July 29, 1897, as workers prepared to seal the cornerstone in Eastland, Texas's new courthouse, the county clerk, as a last-minute addition, tossed in a horned toad alongside a Bible and a bottle of alcohol.

Roughly thirty years later, when they were set to demolish that old courthouse, the legend of locked away horned toad hidden in the cornerstone was widespread. Curiosity about its supposed extended hibernation abilities had mounted. The capsule's opening was a scheduled public event, with thousands of spectators eager to see it.

The Awakening

At precisely 4 p.m., the top was pried open, and the horned toad was lifted from its slumber. The town judge dangled it for the crowd to see, and just then, the leg twitched!!

Within days, the front page of the New York Times read:

"Toad Alive After 31 Years Sealed in Texas Cornerstone."

 

 

Doubters said it was impossible; believers said it was because of the Bible. Whatever the truth, he became a national sensation.

They named him Old Rip (after Rip Van Winkle, who only slept for 20 years). He went on to tour the country, even visiting President Calvin Coolidge in the White House in Washington, D.C.

Legacy

The excitement must have been too much for Old Rip because he passed away on January 19, 1929. Pneumonia was the official cause of death. His embalmed body rests in a red velvet-lined box in the Eastland courthouse to this day.

Personal Connection

There was a headboard bookshelf on my grandparents' bed where a little ceramic souvenir of Old Rip lived on my grandfather's side. I must have picked it up 100 times as a kid. When I think of Texas things and Texans, that little horned toad tops the list.

 

 

On vacation in New Mexico this summer, I saw a painting of a horned toad by the checkout desk at Gemsong Gallery, a local boutique. I commented on how much I liked it. "The Grandfather," Peter Vajda, the shop owner, responded. I'm sure I looked confused, and he said,

"The horned toad is known as the wise grandfather."

My eyes welled up with tears. "Grandfather" that was a wink if there ever was one.