On January 18 Bowie arrived in Béxar, where Neill received
him "with great cordiality." Bowie made it clear that Houston wanted
the Alamo evacuated and the garrison transferred to Gonzales or Copano Bay,
but he also must have told Neill that the general was awaiting authorization
from the council. Also Houston's formal instructions had allowed Bowie tremendous
latitude: "Much is referred to your discretion." Houston trusted Bowie's
judgment; it was his call. It was not, however, a call he wanted to make without
consulting the commander on the ground. Neill made it clear he had no special
attachment to Béxar. He stated as much in a January 23 letter to Governor
Smith and the Council. He reported that a local priest, a "staunch Republican,"
had informed Bowie that Santa Anna intended to "attack Copano and Labahía
[La Bahía] first." If the centralists
really were driving up the coast, he wanted to be where he could fight
them:
| If teams could be obtained here by any means to remove
the Cannon and Public Property I would immediately destroy the fortifications
and abandon the place, taking the men I have under my command here, to
join the Commander in chief at Copanoe [sic], of which I informed
him last night …" |
That there were no draft animals in San Antonio de Béxar, indicated
the degree to which Johnson and Grant had ransacked the place in preparation
for their ill-conceived Matamoros Expedition.
There were other considerations as well. Bowie admired what Neill had
done to fortify the crumbling mission; it had actually begun to take on
the appearance of a military installation. Although conditions were as
bad as Neill had said they were, the garrison's esprit de corps
was remarkably high. On the same day Bowie arrived, Green B. Jameson, the
chief engineer, wrote Houston crowing that the Béxar garrison could
"whip 10 to 1 with our artillery." He further asserted that the men desired
to serve out their full term of enlistment. "If the men here can get a
reasonable supply of clothing, provisions and money they will remain the
balance of 4 months," he assured, "and do duty and fight better than fresh
men, [for] they have all been tried and have confidence in themselves."
That Jameson could say that of troops who had gone unpaid for months and
were practically naked was a testament to the high quality of Neill's leadership.
Bowie began to reconsider his instructions to dismantle the Alamo.
Although Bowie worked closely with the garrison commander, Neill was
clearly in command. On January 26 he called a meeting to consider the events
in San Felipe and determine a course of action. Even with the redoubtable
Bowie present, both "citizens and soldiers" elected Neill chairman. He
had won the confidence not only of the garrison but of the local tejanos
as well, quite an accomplishment considering that Bowie was by marriage
a well-known member of San Antonio's influential Verimendi family.
The men of the Alamo had far more reason to place faith in their commandant
than in the functionaries at San Felipe de Austin. Those responsible for
the fate of Texas had disbanded in a childish fit of pique. Although the
Council members had approved the ill-conceived Matamoros Expedition, they
could not agree on a commander. Both James W. Fannin, Jr. and Frank Johnson
claimed the honor, and the Council endorsed both. To complicate matters
further, Governor Smith ordered Major General Houston to take charge of
the expedition, even though the men had already rejected his leadership.
Houston was, nevertheless, in command of all Texian forces, regulars and
volunteers—on paper at least. Finally the Council dismissed Smith, which
it had no authority to do, and he retaliated by dissolving the Council,
also an act of dubious legality. As Smith's replacement, the Council named
James W. Robinson "acting governor." While a great schism separated the
make-shift Texas government, Neill and his men awaited succor.
No one knew for certain who constituted the legal civil authority. Hedging
his bets, Neill began writing to Smith and the Council. On January 27 an
incensed Alamo commander chided the Council that he was "truly astonished
to find your body in such a disorganized situation." That same day he wrote
Smith: "We can not be fed and clothed on paper pledges. My men cannot,
nor will not, stand this state of things much longer." Given the lack of
critical support, perhaps it would be best to abandon Béxar and
join Houston in his defense of the coast.
Problem was, the commander-in-chief had abandoned the army or, more
accurately, it had abandoned him. He had toyed with the idea of fleeing
to Béxar where the "Matamoros rage" was not so pervasive. At length,
however, he rode to Refugio set on taking command of the Matamoros Expedition.
On the night of January 20, however, Houston clashed with Frank Johnson,
his rival for command. Johnson had an ace up his sleeve, new orders from
the General Council (dated January 14) awarding Grant and himself command
of the Matamoros volunteers. According to the Council's directive, Houston
still retained command of the regular army, but that force existed only
in the general's vivid imagination. Moreover, Johnson gleefully informed
the general that since the Council had ousted his mentor, Governor Smith,
Houston's opinion no longer mattered and the volunteers no longer required
his attention. That was certainly true in Refugio, where independent volunteers
were unwilling to accept the authority of any officer they had not elected—much
less a regular. It was a humiliating personal rejection for Sam Houston.
His political enemies had undermined his support and now enjoyed control
of the provisional government.
Since the volunteers at Refugio wanted no part of Houston, there was
no reason for him to remain. He correctly believed that the Matamoros Expedition
was a calamity waiting to happen. He also knew that if he lingered behind
the "council would have had the pleasure of ascribing to me the evils which
their own conduct and acts will, in all probability, produce." The actions
of the Council and the utter contempt of the Matamoros volunteers had rendered
Houston superfluous. He could think of only one place to go: back to Smith.
Writing to the displaced governor, he explained:
| So soon as I was made acquainted with the nature of [Johnson's]
mission, and the powers granted to J. W. Fannin, jr., I could not remain
mistaken as to the object of the council, or the wishes of individuals.
I had but one course left for me to pursue (the report of your being deposed
had also reached me), which was, to return, and report myself to you in
person. |
Back in San Felipe, Smith doggedly clung to the title of "Governor, &c."
and insisted on playing the role, although few but Houston really listened
anymore. On January 28, he granted the "commander-in-chief" a furlough
until March 1 to adjust his "private business" and "treat with the Indians."
The furlough was a face-saving device. In reality, few Texians cared what
the pair did.
What of Neill and his troops in Béxar? With sardonic understatement,
Walter Lord notes Houston was "strangely inactive during most of the siege."
Following his rejection in Refugio, Houston appears to have given Neill's
men little thought. In his letter to Smith on January 30, Houston lamented
that the road from Refugio to San Felipe was the "one course left for me,"
but another road had continually been open to him. It lead to Béxar.
Neill held a regular commission and certainly would have accorded Houston
more respect than the rowdy Matamoros mob. True, Bowie's men were volunteers
and seemingly had no more use for regulars than most Texian militiamen.
Even so, Bowie was a close friend and political supporter and one of the
dwindling few who still followed Houston's orders. Had he exerted his considerable
personality, the famed adventurer probably could have influenced his men
to obey the general. Only certifiable idiots or those with suicidal tendencies
dared to cross Jim Bowie.
The fact is, Houston did not even try to make it to Béxar. He
could have been at the head of his troops, instead he opted for a self-imposed
exile. After his rebuff at Refugio, Houston returned to form. As he had
before when life turned sour, he flung himself into a pit of self-indulgence.
Brooding and melancholy marked the miles to San Felipe. Sounding more like
a scorned adolescent suffering the first pangs of puppy-love than a commanding
general, he confessed that he had considered leaving public life and devoting
himself to "the solitude of nature." In short, Neill, Bowie, and the men
of the Alamo would have to shift for themselves. After all, he was no longer
officially accountable.
On February 2, Bowie wrote Smith that he and Neill had resolved to "die
in these ditches" before they would surrender the post. The letter confirmed
Smith's take on conditions. He had concluded that Béxar must not
go undefended. Rejecting Houston's advice, Smith prepared to funnel additional
troops and provisions to San Antonio. Indeed, it was shortly following
the receipt of Bowie's February 2 letter that Smith dispatched William
Barret Travis to the Alamo at the head of his "legion" of cavalry.
In the same letter Bowie praised Neill. "I cannot eulogize the conduct
& character of Col Neill too highly," he wrote Smith; "no other man
in the army could have kept men at this post, under the neglect they have
experienced." A second-rater? Not in Jim Bowie's eyes.
So let students of Texas history finally dispense with the fiction that
Houston sent "orders" to abandon the Alamo and that Neill ignored them.
In brief, Houston had asked for permission to evacuate the post. Smith
considered his request. The answer was no. Although Governor Smith and
the Council could agree on little else, both directed Neill to hold Béxar.
Neill did not disobey Houston's instructions to evacuate the fort because
the general never received permission from the civilian authorities to
issue such an order.
On January 28, Neill dispatched still another letter to the Council.
More than any other, this message demonstrated his command of the written
word. It read in part:
| Texas ought and must again rouse to action, another victory
will secure us forever from the attack of Tyranny and our existence will
no longer be doubtful but prosperous and glorious to attain so desirable
an end. I am ready to sacrifice my all, and if, as I expect, every citizen
in the country and our collaborators from the United States are animated
by the same spirit, Destiny will be compelled to acknowledge us as her
favorites. From the time of my taking the field in defense of Texas liberties
up to the present moment, my labors and watchfulness have been unremitting
and they shall continue to be so until I see the land of my adoption free. |
With good reason historians have lauded the Travis
correspondence of February 24 addressed to "the People of Texas &
all Americans in the World" as one of the nation's truly remarkable letters.
Even so, as an expression of defiance and courage, as well as for the sheer
power of its prose, it in no way surpasses Neill's message written nearly
a month earlier.
The events of February 5 revealed that Neill remained firmly in command.
That day he presided over a meeting to elect delegates to the Convention
scheduled for early in March. He drafted the resolution that proclaimed:
"Soldiers in the actual service of the country, are…declared
to be citizens, and raised to the right of suffrage." Accordingly, the
Alamo garrison elected Dr. Samuel Maverick and Jesse B. Badgett as their
representatives. Neill not only drew up the document but, as commandant
of Béxar, was the first of its thirteen signatories. William B.
Travis and James Bowie were the last. Not the slightest shred of evidence
exists to support the allegation that either Travis or Bowie ever "overshadowed"
Neill. Both they and the Alamo defenders had full confidence in their commander.
On or about February 8, confidence rose even higher with the arrival
of Congressman David Crockett and the Tennessee Mounted Volunteers. In
a speech to the garrison, the "Lion of the West" made his lack of military
ambition known in no uncertain terms; he would serve only as a "high private."
It is odd, therefore, that in A Time To Stand Walter Lord has
Crockett involved in a scheme to diminish Neill's influence. According
to his scenario, based on Antonio Menchaca's Memoirs, on the night
of February 10 a courier interrupted a fandango with word of the Mexican
advance. Then, according to Lord, Bowie, Travis, and Crockett "huddled
over the message together" before deciding there was no immediate danger.
"But the huddle itself was significant," Lord surmised, "for Colonel Neill
was not included. It was no particular mystery. He had simply suffered
the fate of many a good second-rater when abler, more imaginative leaders
appears on the scene of a crisis. He had been gently nudged aside."
The evidence simply does not support Lord's version. On or about February
8, Neill had received a gloomy letter informing him that illness had stricken
his entire family; they desperately needed him back home in Bastrop. Although
the dilemma between duty to country and duty to family must have been agonizing,
there could be but one response. Another could command the Alamo, but no
one else could care for his ailing family. Besides, conditions had never
seemed more propitious for his temporary absence. At last reinforcements
had begun to trickle in, and with Maverick and Badgett on the road to San
Felipe, more would surely arrive. Engineer Green B. Jameson had improved
the defenses substantially and the men were confident that they could hold
out against a force many times their number. And with Bowie, Travis, and
Crockett on hand, there was no shortage of available leadership. On February
10 he announced his decision to leave the following morning.
Of course, Neill was not at the fandango but (to borrow a phrase) it
was "no particular mystery." Knowing he had a hard ride ahead of him the
following day, the forty-six-year-old Neill understandably did not spend
the night carousing with the garrison. He had already discussed his plans
to go on furlough with Bowie and Travis. Realizing all that, they probably
did not wish to disturb Neill with marginal information. Furthermore, there
is nothing in Menchaca's account to support Lord's contention that Bowie
and Travis "nudged" Neill aside. Indeed, there is no evidence that anyone
ever sought to undermine Neill's authority.
It is all the more baffling, therefore, that Lord continued to draw
an unflattering portrait of Neill as a nonentity overshadowed by "abler,
more imaginative leaders." With more innuendo than evidence, Lord tells
how:
| Next morning [February 11] Neill left on "twenty day's
leave." The explanations were various—sickness
in the family, a special mission to raise defense funds. Colonel Travis,
at least, sensed he wouldn't be back. |
In truth, extant documents reveal that Travis believed Neill would
be back. In a dispatch written the day after Neill's departure, Travis
explained:
| "In consequence of the sickness of his family, Lt. Col.
Neill has left this post, to visit for a short time, and has requested
me to take Command of the Post." [Emphasis added.] |
Then again on February 14, Bowie and Travis pledged to co-sign all orders
"until Col. Neill's return."
Certainly the rank-and-file had no doubts why their commander had gone
on leave, nor did they think he had left for good. On February 11, Green
Jameson wrote Governor Smith that "Col. Neill left today for home on account
of an express from his family informing him of their ill health. There
was great regret at his departure by all the men though he promised to
be with us in 20 days at the furthest." [Emphasis added.]
Since 1961, when Lord published A Time To Stand, most historians
have tended to accept his negative portrayal of Neill without bothering
to examine the primary materials. Thus do the careless and the lazy first
foster and then perpetuate myths.
How could Mr. Lord's conclusions regarding Neill differ so radically
from those supported by documentary evidence? Simple, he never looked at
the documentary evidence or else ignored it if he did. Why did Lord paint
such an unflattering picture of Neill? Readers may uncover the answer in
the pages of Paul I. Wellman's 1951 novel, The Iron Mistress, his
fictional take on the life of James Bowie. Wellman described Neill
in the following terms:
| Colonel Joseph [sic] C. Neill wore an untrimmed
dark mustache which drooped heavily, hiding his mouth, and had a habit
of standing with his feet apart, hands clasped behind his back. He was
a Regular Army man, one of Houston's own choosing, unimaginative but
conscientious. [Emphasis added.] |
The last three words of the above quotation are instructive. Recall Lord's
characterization of Neill as "conscientious but unimaginative." It snaps
credulity and scorns intelligence to assume that the similarity was mere
coincidence.
What of Lord's argument that Travis "sensed [Neill] wouldn't be back."
Here again, a passage from The Iron Mistress is illuminating.
| It now appeared that though [Bowie] had given Colonel
Neill full credit for sharing his decision to hold the Alamo at all costs,
Neill was in reality none too enthusiastic about " dying in these trenches
[sic]." His relief when Travis arrived was visible, and the following
day, pleading there was a sickness in his family requiring his presence,
he left Bexar. Going, he suggested, as it were over his shoulder, that
Travis take command of the post. |
How remarkable this is. While in other respects his is a fine book, throughout
A Time To Stand Lord misrepresents the character and motives of
J. C. Neill. How could he have done otherwise? Wellman (who could not even
bother to get Neill's name right), in his attempt to aggrandize his hero,
thought it necessary to diminish Neill's role. One might forgive the practice
of creative license in a novelist, but not in one who lays claim to the
title of historian. The evidence is lamentable, but manifest. Lord, looking
"as it were, over his shoulder," simply constructed his depiction of Neill
around a tissue of invention and innuendo that Wellman proposed in a work
of popular fiction.
Santa Anna arrived in Béxar before Neill could return. The fate
of the Alamo defenders needs no retelling here. In the early morning gloom
of March 6 the Mexicans assaulted the fort as the culmination of a thirteen-day
siege; to a man the garrison perished amid frightful carnage. Travis, Bowie,
and Crockett passed into glory. By being absent, J. C. Neill passed into
undeserved obscurity.
Although Neill was unable to return to the Alamo, he never stopped working
on behalf of his command. By March 6—the day of the final assault—Neill
had arrived in Gonzales where he organized relief efforts and signed a
voucher for ninety dollars-worth of medical supplies for the Alamo garrison.
Neill's relief column never marched to the Alamo, but it did become
the nucleus of Sam Houston's San Jacinto army.
On March 13 he joined the withdrawal of the Texian army to Groce's Retreat
on the Brazos River. Unable to transport the heavy artillery pieces, Houston
ordered them dumped into the Guadalupe River before abandoning Gonzales.
Neill found himself a cannoneer without cannon. That changed on April 11,
when the "Twin Sisters," two matched six-pounders, reached the Texian camp.
Since Neill was the ranking artillery officer, Houston awarded him command
of the revived artillery corps.
On April 20 Neill commanded the Twin Sisters during the skirmish that
preceded the battle of San Jacinto. It was during this fight that his artillery
corps repulsed an enemy probe of the woods in which the main Texian army
lay concealed. Neill, however, paid a high price for its success. A Mexican
canister shot caught him in the fleshy portion of his hip. So, here again,
Neill missed the battle the following day and, along with it, another chance
for lasting fame. The location of his injury became the butt of much ribald
humor in the Texian camp. It was, however, no laughing matter. The surgeon's
report listed Neill among the "seriously wounded."
Despite his painful wound, Neill continued to serve Texas. In 1838 the
republic granted him a league of land for his service during the revolution.
The following year he ran for the position of major general of militia,
but lost to Felix Huston. In 1842 he led a ranger expedition against hostile
Indians along the upper Trinity River. In 1844 republic officials appointed
him an Indian agent, in which capacity he traveled extensively. Finally,
in 1845 the republic's congress granted him a pension of $200 a year for
life as compensation for injuries received at San Jacinto. The old warrior,
however, did not long enjoy the rewards of faithful service. Later that
year Neill died at his home on Spring Creek in Navarro County. By the time
of his death, he appears to have sunk into almost complete obscurity. I
have been unable to locate a single obituary in any period newspaper.
Poor Neill. He always hovered on the periphery of fame. Frequently engaged
in the pivotal events of early Texas history, he never emerged as a lead
player. He did not make it back to the Alamo, did not make the supreme
sacrifice. If he had, Texas and the World would now be singing the praises
of Neill, Bowie, and Crockett—and relegate Travis to the supporting role.
Posterity has been unkind to J. C. Neill. Yet despite the neglect of
Houston and the Council, he held the Alamo garrison at that perilous outpost
and maintained its morale, a remarkable feat. He worked tirelessly to transform
the crumbling mission into a fort. By the time Travis arrived on the scene,
Neill had already bolstered the fort's defenses and his soldiers' will
to resist. This is not to denigrate Travis. Once in command, he performed
with courage and skill. The point is rather, that had it not been for the
equally courageous and skillful Neill there would have been no garrison
for Travis to inherit, no fort to defend, no epic battle, and no entry
into Texas legend. By any definition James Clinton Neill was an individual
of distinguished valor. The fair-minded can no longer relate the story
of the Alamo without acknowledging his contributions. We should allow him,
at last, to take his rightful place among the pantheon of Texas heroes.
Stephen L. Hardin is the author of TEXIAN ILIAD:
A MILITARY HISTORY OF THE TEXAS
REVOLUTION. He teaches at The Victoria College
in Victoria, Texas.
