The Texas Historical Commission agreed to pay $550,000 for a Davy Crockett letter that might not be genuine, making it potentially one of the poorest purchasing decisions since I bought a Betamax videotape player in 1986.
State officials initially said they were “99.9 percent” certain the letter, purported to be Crockett’s last written correspondence in 1836, was authentic. But they backed off after skeptics pointed out disparities, such as repeated use of the word “schnizzle” and a reference to Crockett wanting to “get my drink on.”
The commission now says experts will review the letter before the transaction is complete. Had I sold the letter to Texas officials, I would politely turn and point to the sign on the wall that says “No shirt, no shoes, no service, no returning Davy Crockett’s $550,000 letter.”
I’m not a Davy Crockett expert, so much of what I know of the folk hero, Indian fighter and politician comes from the famous 1955 song “The Ballad of Davy Crockett.” I am well aware that he was born on a mountain top in Tennessee and kilt him a b’ar when he was only 3, but who knew his letters could make a man rich enough to buy a jewel-encrusted coonskin cap for every day of the week?
So, here’s my scam, er ... plan (don’t steal it because I thought of it first): I’m going to legally change my name to Davy Crockett, leave these hills like my new namesake, write a bunch of letters and sell them at flea markets all over Texas as GENUINE AUTHENTIC DAVY CROCKETT LETTERS - $499,999.99 EACH.
“Step right up folks, I’ve got tube socks, Betamax tapes and, best of all, genuine authentic Davy Crockett letters, not like the Chinese-produced claptrap the Texas Historical Commission bought. This is American made, high-quality ink on top-grade parchment.”
“Are you sure Davy Crockett wrote those letters?”
“As sure as I am of my own name, sir.”
Buyers can choose from a variety of Davy Crockett correspondence, including.
—His letter to Aunt Earlene back in Tennessee.
Dearest Aunt Earlene,
How are you? I am fine. How are the b’ars back in Tennessee? I sure do miss them. Texas is awful hot, but I am adjusting well. The people here are all very friendly, and I can’t wait to meet those ol’ boys from the Republic of Mexico. I believe we’re going to get along just fine.
Sincerely,
Davy
P.S.: Save this letter. Some of these people down here in Texas will buy anything.
—His letter to PETA.
Dearest PETA,
I admit it. I kilt a b’ar. But, come on, I was only 3. Three! And the b’ar had it coming, always making fun of my hat and calling me Dan’l Boone to get me riled up. Please, just stop protesting outside the Alamo and I won’t kill anymore b’ars (this month). Jim Bowie said if he saw one more person holding up a “B’ars Are People, Too” sign, somebody was getting cut.
Sincerely,
Davy
—His letter to Santa Anna.
Dearest Santa Anna,
I must write to inform you, sir, that I did not take kindly to your remarks about my hat in the cantina last night. In fact, I am incensed, my schnizzle. You, a man bearing both the name of a girl and a fat man in a red suit, have the audacity to cast aspersions on my choice of headgear. All I can say at this point is, come get some. COME GET SOME, SANTA! You and Rudolph, too.
I don’t care how many thousand men you’ve got, just bring it on! Bring it on like Donkey Kong! I will see you, sir, at the Alamo.
Sincerely,
Davy
P.S. If the Texas Historical Commission buys this, I get half. Seriously, dude. Don’t make me go all b’ar on you.
Scott Hollifield is editor/general manager of The McDowell News in Marion, N.C.
