Ron Curry was the "foreman" in charge of all of us "Rexall Rangers"                                  who were performers. He, Johnny R, Jimmy Cox and I babysat the jail                                and made sure none of the cute young female tourists arrived without                                  receiving a proper escort! Ron usually played "The Toughest Man in                                    Town", "Pete", and like roles. Ron sang and played his Martin D-45                                   "upside down and backwards" during the music shows. (Seems his                                     uncle, who was right-handed taught Ron to play guitar. Ironically, Ron was left-handed. His uncle wouldn't let him string the guitar correctly for a lefty, so he learned to play using a right-hand guitar upside down. Boy, his chords sure looked strange!!!! Wanda Curry  was Ron's wife at the time. She supervised all the girls and ran the cantina. She was a hoot, and was quite the fireball!!! She took her turn as "Miss Kitty" on a regular basis. Believe that Wanda was from Houston. Like a lot of the Alamo Village summer hands, Johhny Rodriguez and I had a difficult making money last from paycheck to paycheck. After we had been at the Village for a few weeks -- with several days spent penniless -- Wanda took it upon herself to confiscate our paychecks. She would dole out what she felt was a sufficient amount for us to survive and kept the rest until summer's end. Vicky Weiser as I recall, was from Yoakum, TX. She was very pretty. Worked in one of the stores. Still remember receiving a goodbye kiss from her at the end of the summer! Dottie Chaloupka  was fun and fun-loving. Always laughing, and always in a great mood. We used Dottie's car quite a lot, since there was not an overabundance of vehicles amongst our crew. Haven't seen Dottie in years. Was in Austin in the late 70's, switched on the TV for the news, and there sat "Dot" Chaloupka, the news anchor for one of the stations in Austin. We got together and visited then, but haven't seen her since. Johnny Rodriguez  was fresh out of jail for the infamous goat-stealing when I arrived. He was billed as "Johnny Rodgers", because there was the feeling that there was no place for someone of Hispanic background in country music. He and I had lived together for probably 3 or 4 weeks before I know he was really a "Rodgriguez" instead of a "Rodgers". Found out when we cashed our paychecks at B & S Grocery one night, and he signed his as "John Raul Davis Rodriguez", and I said "who the heck is that?". (Thought he was forging some Mexican's name!) Johnny, Steve Stevens and I shared the upstairs part of the old Alamo compound for a few weeks, then Steve moved out. (Long story, but he felt that Johnny and I were pretty cruel to him. Probably had reason to think that!!) Anyway, Johnny and I shared those quarters much of the summer until the arrival of Jimmy Cox, who had worked at the Village the summer before. As you might imagine, Johnny was usually cast as "Ortho". He was from Sabinal. Jimmy Cox  from San Angelo was not only a fabulous lead guitarist, but was well-known for his drawings and paintings. Ron Curry always described Jimmy as "a long, tall drink of water". Jimmy was tall and very thin. He almost always fell into the gunfights as one of the gang members. Jimmy, Johnny and I shared a whole bunch of great times together -- some of which we would prefer not to recall. Hope Jimmy is still honing his artistry skills. Steve Stevens was the guy who founded a folk music group at Weatherford (TX) College, known as "The Mellow Sunshine". (It is sometimes painful to look back on the names of the bands I've been a part of!!! Keep in mind, this was 1970, when "Iron Butterfly" and other such catchy names were en vogue!!!) Anyway, the MS was composed of Steve, Connie Huse, Darla Carter and me. Steve was a regular as "The Homesteader", and had other parts in the gunfights. He was from Paradise, TX. Connie Huse was from Millsap, TX, near Weatherford. She had a booming voice and a great personality. She returned to the Village the following year. She tried very hard to keep the rest of us in line -- a task which proved increasingly difficult. Connie worked with Wanda in the cantina. Darla Carter now lives in Dallas, although she was originally from Weatherford. With her beautiful blonde hair and gorgeous face, it was sometimes a little uncomfortable to take her across the border. They sure liked to look at the blondes!!! Anyway, Darla and I still communicate often. She married a few years ago, and she and husband Rick Berry live in Dallas. She is the only one from our group that I'm aware of who has stayed in touch with many of the others from 1970. Seems that Darla worked with Virginia in the General Store, or one of the stores. Uncle Benny and Benjy Classen were the wranglers who kept the dude horses and stagecoach ready and operating. Uncle Benny always drove the stagecoach. Don't know if they still do this, but we had a day off during the week, and the following morning you didn't have to show up 'til 10:00am. I would usually send Johnny in my car from the Alamo area to the Village so he would get to work on time. Then I'd pull up my bandana, walk out to the stagecoach road, fire a couple of rounds, pretend to rob the stage, then ride the stagecoach to the Village so I didn't have to walk!  I'm Doug Bridwell and I still live in Bridgeport, TX. Back in 1970, I was guitarist for "The Mellow Sunshine", then would move back to the drums for the Johnny R set during each music show. In the gunfights, I played everything from "Pete" to "Malladin" to "The Toughest Man In Town", to an occasional "Ortho" on Johnny's days off. Have been married to Lynda for the past 28 years, and have two children: 15-year old daughter Morgan, and 12-year old son Mason. I work as an Environmental, Health & Safety Specialist for Devon Energy, and still play a lot of music.

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It was closing time at the Village one weeknight during the summer of 1970. The few workers still left were all inside the stores or in the Cantina -- except Johnny Rodriguez and me. Just before we left, one of Happy's longhorn cows carelessly meandered onto Front Street near where Johnny and I were standing. Johnny as you know has occasionally (!) been known to be a little impulsive. When the cow got close to us, Johnny decided it was a great time and place for a rodeo. He hopped atop the cow and the show began. At that time, there was a short section of split rail fence that ran near the livery stable-end of Front Street. Johnny's ride didn't last the full 8 seconds, as you've probably already guessed, and ended with the cow throwing Johnny into the end post of the split rail fence, shearing it off at ground level. And, like dominoes, the fence rails successively dropped to the ground. Anyone who ever worked at Alamo Village knows the first words that came from Johnny's mouth: "Happy's gonna kill us!". Even though Happy was not at the Village that day, we were smart enough to know we had better do something quick. We scrambled to prop things up so the fence didn't look quite so "broken", then tried our best to look non chalant as Virginia and everyone else headed for the parking lot to go home. As soon as the last one got out of sight, we began a diligent search for something that would suffice as a post hole digger. As luck would have it, there was not a real tool to be found anywhere in the Village -- not a screwdriver, not a shovel, not even a hammer. However, after a long hunt, we finally came up with the one "tool" that was findable -- a table spoon that had somehow escaped from the Cantina. By now, darkness had begun to set in. And things weren't going to get better for quite some time. Have you ever tried digging in the Brackettville-area rock with a kitchen spoon and your fingernails? Try it some time -- it ain't easy and it ain't fun! It took several hours, but we eventually dug out the broken section of the post that had been left in the ground, which left us a large enough hole to set the new post. We crammed the remaining portion of the post into the hole and raked the dirt up around the post, trying hard to make it appear that it had been that way for centuries! Then we wired the rails back into place. By now it was real dark -- and had been for several hours. Even though the post was now about a foot shorter than it had been earlier in the day, we felt that it looked pretty good. Obviously, we were right because, as far as I know, until Virginia reads this story, no one ever noticed that the fence was ever repaired! Doug Bridwell March, 2002

A Village Story from Doug