114: HOWL AT THE ALAMO

For once, Tom and Vicki didn’t set an alarm on the morning of Friday July 19, 2019.  We had pushed the limits since we left Michigan and my photographer figured we had all day to travel the 125 miles to see the Alamo in San Antonio.  His goal was to have me pose near the Alamo where JFK delivered a campaign speech in 1960.  Once those images were captured, my camera guy and his wife would just “wing it” the remainder of the day and night; which was music to Vicki’s ears.

We rolled into San Antonio around 11:20am where we discovered numerous city streets were being repaired; which forced the GPS to find several alternative routes to the Alamo.  In a search for parking near the historic site, Vicki drove around a three-block area for nearly 20 minutes before we settled on an expensive lot about a block from the Alamo.  We were lucky as the walk to the famous mission didn’t take long; the mid-morning temperature had already reached the mid-90s and there wasn’t much cloud cover to give us relief from the Sun.  When the Alamo came into view, Tom immediately carried me to the area where he believed John Kennedy stood when he delivered his campaign speech on September 12, 1960.  Usually my photographer tries to capture images without others in the frame, but that wasn’t going to happen that day.  Hundreds of tourists frolicked near the front of the limestone structure; while hundreds more waited to replace them when their time came.  As Tom held me aloft in front of the historic Alamo, it was as though I could hear Senator Kennedy’s words as loud and clear as they were nearly 59 years earlier: “When the Texans died for Texan independence, there were not only native born Texans in the Alamo; there were not only citizens of Tennessee and North Carolina; but there was a citizen from Massachusetts, William Lynn, who came here to shed his blood with the other people in the Alamo.”

When I finished impersonating JFK in front of the Alamo, the three of us stood in line to see the inside of the historic mission.  Tom kept me in the opened camera case as we made our way through the Alamo’s interior; which was okay with me for a couple of reasons.  Surprisingly, photography was prohibited inside the building – which was a rule I couldn’t understand. After all, there was nothing in there that was photo-worthy; at least in my eyes. The inside of the Alamo was also a huge disappointment. Oh, there were a handful of flags and some replica artifacts, but nothing of historical significance from March 6, 1836. When I heard the phrase “Remember the Alamo”, I wasn’t quite sure what was so memorable; at least for a visitor. Make no mistake – I was honored to have been inside the famous shrine where over 200 Texians tried to defend her against Santa Anna’s troops.  As I looked through an opening in the camera case at the barren limestone walls, I wondered where James Bowie and Davy Crocket were standing when the hundreds of Mexican soldiers stormed the place.

Back outside, Tom snapped a few more closeup photos of the Alamo’s sacred walls while Vicki sat in the shade of a mammoth live oak tree and searched her phone for a hotel.  My two companions booked a room at the historic Menger Hotel; which was not only situated next to the Alamo, it was also within walking distance of the famous River Walk.  The Menger Hotel was built in 1857; which was just 27 years after the smoke from the Battle of the Alamo had been extinguished.  During its 162-year history, twelve Presidents had stayed at the Menger – beginning with Ulysses S. Grant and ending with Bill Clinton.  For me, the biggest and most exciting Presidential connection with the Menger was Theodore Roosevelt – who drank in the hotel’s bar while he recruited his Rough Riders.

With nearly three hours before our room was available, my companions and I headed for the River Walk where Tom and Vicki searched for a place to have lunch.  The River Walk was cool – it’s a network of scenic winding walkways along the banks of the San Antonio River. The entire system was one-story beneath the streets of downtown San Antonio and away from the ‘hustle and bustle’ of city traffic.  In March of 2007, my photographer had attended a safety conference in San Antonio and he was very familiar with the River Walk and some of its entertainment venues.  Although it had been twelve years since his last visit, there was only one place that Tom had set his sights for that evening – a dueling piano bar called ‘Howl at the Moon’.  In 2007, my photographer and his co-workers Mark Cronce and Tony Hodny did their share of “howling” at the moon and Tom hasn’t stopped howling about the place since that memorable night.  As we strolled along the pathway next to the river, my photographer and his wife decided to eat at a place called Casa Rio, a quaint Mexican diner that faced the River Walk. While Vicki enjoyed her quesadilla and margarita, I had to dodge flying pieces of tortilla shells and lettuce as Tom scarfed down his four tacos.

We returned to our Highlander at roughly 1:45pm, but we still had over an hour to kill before our scheduled check-in time at the Menger Hotel.  For Vicki, extra time meant T.J. Maxx time.  Tom secured directions to a store that was located roughly eight miles north of the Alamo.  As luck would have it, my photographer also found a Marshall’s & HomeGoods store nearly four miles north of T.J.s and both stops seemed to satisfy Vicki’s itch for Rae Dunn pottery – at least for the time being.

Back from our shopping spree at 3:15pm, we lugged our belongings up to our fourth-floor room at the Menger Hotel.  After a 90-minute ‘power nap’ that was intended to give my companions extra energy for their evening rendezvous with ‘Howl at the Moon’, the three of us headed back to the River Walk where we watched people, shopped in some stores, and embarked on a river cruise.  The San Antonio River that wound through the downtown area has been called the “Venice of America” and the 35-minute GO-RIO cruise that featured quiet electric boats was just what Tom and Vicki needed to relax. 

Although it was still daylight out, Tom thought it would be a good idea for the three of us to walk to ‘Howl at the Moon’ before the Friday night crowd arrived. I know in my photographer’s mind he was hoping to sit at the same table that he occupied twelve years earlier; he’s nostalgic that way. In my resin-filled mind, I had hoped we would just get inside; I thought we would be lucky if we didn’t have to stand all night. It was roughly 7:45pm when we found the piano bar; two greeters met us outside the front door. After my photographer talked with the two guys for about five minutes, the most incredible thing happened. I’m still not sure how he did it, but the three of us were led inside the ‘Howl at the Moon’ and were given VIP seats. Not only did we have a great view of the twin pianos, if we would’ve been any closer I would’ve been able to tickle the ivories myself. Several times during the evening, Tom approached the piano player and tipped them some cash for a requested song; and I had to admit, my photographer has great taste in music. The first song he had requested was the same tune Tom asked them to play in 2007 – Meat Loaf’s ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’. A half hour later, he had one of the female pianists play ‘Me and Bobby McGee’ by Janis Joplin; and the girl knocked it out of the park. As Tom and his wife were putting a dent in their bucket of Michelob Ultras, my camera guy requested a final song – and let me tell you, it was a crowd pleaser. The young female piano player smiled when she read the request that Tom had written on a small piece of paper; and from an opening in the camera case, it was easy for me to tell that she enjoyed playing one of the biggest hits of the past year – Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper’s hit single ‘Shallow’ from the movie ‘A Star is Born’.

My companions loved their experience at the piano bar – they sang; they drank; and they howled with the best of them. All good things must come to an end however; when the clock struck ten o’clock, the three of us headed for the Menger. I laughed to myself when I heard my photographer tell his wife as they walked out of the front door: “When I was here with Mark and Tony in 2007, we stayed until one in the morning and staggered back to our hotel. Twelve years later, three beers kicked my butt and I can’t make it past ten. It ain’t fun gettin’ old!”

Our walk back to the Menger Hotel was detoured when my photographer and his wife decided they were hungry. Located several blocks south of the piano bar was the nearest McDonald’s; but my companions immediately felt uncomfortable when the area didn’t seem as safe and secure as the River Walk. Their comfort level went further downhill when an armed security guard stood inside the fast food restaurant and several police officers patrolled the sidewalk nearby. With their food in hand, the three of us made our way north along Alamo Plaza which guided us back “home”; but Tom had the hair-brained idea of photographing the illuminated Alamo at night. I hate to admit when that guy is right, but he made a good call – the Alamo looked extremely cool beneath the black sky. While there weren’t many tourists at the Plaza in front of the historic mission, I wondered if I would see the ghosts of Davy Crocket or James Bowie standing guard – or maybe catch a glimpse of David Bowie.

It was nearly 11:00pm when we made it back to our room at the Menger Hotel. Tom placed me next to the television where I stood in total darkness. Throughout the night, I thought about where we were and what had happened in that area in 1836. Many people, Texians and Mexicans alike, lost their lives here. As my two travelling mates snored the night away, I envisioned the illuminated Alamo that I had seen before midnight. The front door of the historic mission swung open and a thin man with blonde hair walked out. His wild clothing looked futuristic; his voice was loud and strong. He stared right at me; and his song hit home.

“I, I can remember; Standing, by the wall. And the guns, shot above our heads; And we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame, was on the other side; Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever. Then we could be Heroes, just for one day.”

Davy Crocket and James Bowie were heroes. At least for one day.