Deeply Rooted in History
My grandmother, Mary Thelma Mitchell Barton, was born on June 15, 1903, to Mamie and Crawford Mitchell. Before she died in September 1982, I asked her to share her memories of Paisano’s founding.
Dearest Granddaughter Kathy,
God planted the roots of Paisano in the heart of lawman turned preacher-rancher L.R. Millican long before it was planted here. Papa—Danty you called your great grandfather—owed his life to Brother Millican—his spiritual one. In 1899, under a tree near the current dining shed, Crawford Mitchell rode into a prayer meeting following strays and rode out following Christ.
By the time I came along four years later, Mama and Papa and other families had helped Brother Millican organize Marfa’s Baptist Church. He had already worked with Baptists in Alpine and Fort Davis. In 1913, about the time I turned 10, my parents attended a prayer meeting near today’s Paisano. I stayed home with baby sister Lois who wasn’t yet one. George Truett and S.J. Porter, pastors in Dallas and San Antonio, came on the train. For two years, they prayed and planned. Finally, in 1915, the ranch families gathered to officially “found” the encampment.
Not long after I became a teenager in 1916, Lois and I rode with Mama and Papa in their Model T out to Paisano Pass for the first Camp Meeting. Brother Millican already had a wagon set up under the trees. Dr. Truett got ready to preach. He usually held his Bible in one hand, but he always put his notes on the pulpit—one year when we were in the old tabernacle with the dirt floor—not the one we use now—Dr. Truett’s notes blew into the mud, but we didn’t dare laugh. Anyway, he needed a pulpit for his notes, so the men rolled over a big wood barrel and lifted it on the wagon.
That first year, some families came for the day. Others camped a night or two to hear all three preachers—Truett, Porter and Millican. People must have brought tables because there wasn’t anything here. Same with benches. I remember sitting on a rock—a really hard rock–Truett wasn’t known for short sermons!
World War I didn’t exactly interrupt Paisano, but making the meetings was hard, and Dr. Truett was overseas preaching to the troops for President Hoover. But more showed up each year, and Mama and Papa were astonished when at least 500 came Labor Day weekend 1921. They carried surplus army tents or slept on cots. The Kokernots, McCutcheons and our family brought chuck wagons. On Sunday an extra 500 drove in just to hear Dr. Truett. After the meeting, the men got organized—named directors, elected Brother Millican president and appointed committees. Seems like Baptists always have committees. Papa suggested that the next year, ranchers should combine their chuck wagons with the Kokernots taking the lead. Mr. Kokernot agreed as long as Papa would be in charge of grounds. Little did either one know the future.
By 1922, the Grounds Committee obtained about 1,000 acres of land with a promise of 400 more. They dug a well, added lights and built a dining shed and tin-roof-dirt-floor tabernacle. After your mother was born, she loved playing in the dirt during services—though I couldn’t let her when Dr. Truett preached. He didn’t approve. At the end of the 1922 meeting, Mama and Papa and the other ranch families settled down for a final campfire. Each gave to help expenses and they decided never to charge to attend Paisano. Sixty years later, they still haven’t, and I hope they never will.
In May 1923, I married your grandfather Frank Barton, and Papa built Mama, my older brother Loyd and me Paisano cabins. Dad, as you called him, considered it our wedding present. Of course, we didn’t have indoor plumbing until much later. Paisano got a treasurer in your grandfather, and from the time you could count, you always went to the bank on Sunday afternoon after Paisano took the offering to count the bills and roll the change. The only thing I didn’t like about Sundays at Paisano was having to wear a hat, gloves and heels.
Papa became president when Brother Millican died in 1938. He presided at board meetings but got one of the preachers to pray and make announcements. He said they were trained, and he was just a rancher. My job was to serve coffee and homemade cake to Board members, preachers and others who met with Papa. Oh, the things that I learned—but that’s another letter.
Since that very first meeting in 1916, Paisano continued though things were shaky during World War II when Mr. Kokernot asked us to bring our ration books. And I only missed 2 encampments—one when Papa was thrown from a horse and I took care of him, and you know the other—the week you were born. When I look back and look around, it’s hard to believe. God blessed this holy ground with deep roots and will continue to bless Paisano through your generation and the ones that follow as Dr. Truett often said until “the evening falleth.”
Love, Gran
Kathy Robinson Hillman