One would think that the town that calls itself "the bayou city"
would
recognize the contributions of watercraft and the stream that bisects
the
city on its offical seal. But, Houston does not.

The
official seal of the
City of Houston was authorized by City Council on February 17, 1840 and
it
was approved a week later. With a design commissioned by former
mayor
Francis Moore, the seal has three figures in the center: a Lone Star, a
steam
locomotive and a plow.
The Lone Star, of course, represents the new republic of Texas, and
later,
the state. The plow is a symbol of the importance of agriculture,
especially
cotton, to the Houston economy. The locomotive is named the "General
Sherman"
after General Sidney Sherman who fought at the Battle of San Jacinto
and
who was one of the founders of the first railroad in Texas.
The presence of the locomotive on the city seal suggests that the
design
of the seal was revised at some later date. The first railroad in Texas
was
charted in 1850. The Buffalo Bayou, Brazos and Colorado Railroad became
operational
in August, 1853 on a line that went from Harrisburg to Stafford.
Harrisburg? In 1840, why would the City of Houston promote the rival
town
of Harrisburg on its own seal?
The intense competition between Houston and Harrisburg would decline
after
the 1870's when a series of disasters, including fire and hurricane,
devastated
the shipping facilites in Harrisburg. Ultimately, the town of
Harrisburg
was annexed by the City of Houston in December, 1926.
Although the original seal supposedly was lost and rediscovered by
Margaret
Westerman in 1939, the design on the present seal probably dates from
the
twentieth century.
Which brings us back to the 1840 seal. What was it like? Did it have a
steamer
or a schooner on it? Would that not have been more appropriate at that
time?
Boats docked at foot of Main Street would have been a better image of
the
prosperity of the city. The City fathers would have been extemely
prescient
to have placed a locomotive on the seal in 1840.
Actually, in a flash of whimsy, it might be nice to see a canoe on the
city's
seal. The earliest written accounts of Houston tell of the role played
by
canoes.
Dilue Rose Harris, in her memoirs recalling the days after the Battle
of
San Jacinto in 1836, wrote of the excitement that the proposed new town
of
Houston was creating among the people returning to Texas after the
defeat
of Santa Anna. In early June, 1836, some of the young men from the
Stafford
Point community (now, modern Stafford) rode over to Buffalo Bayou to
check
out the new town described in the circulars and handbills distributed
by
the Allen brothers.
What they found there became more of a joke th

an anything else. The town,
which was difficult to locate among the pine woods, "consisted of one
dugout
canoe, a bottle gourd of whisky and a surveyor's chain and compass, and
was
inhabited by four men with an ordinary camping outfit."
That's where the story takes a ominous turn. To escape the heat and the
swarms
of mosquiotes, the men decided to take a swim in the bayou. No sooner
had
they all gotten into the water, when the "water was alive with
alligators."
Three of the men got out on the south bank of the bayou from whence
they
entered, but one exited on the other side. Those on the south bank got
a
canoe and rescued him, bringing the separated man back to the south
side.
Not only did the man face death at the jaws of the alligators, but, he
told
his rescuers that while he was waiting for them, a large panther was
lurking
nearby. The big cat ran off as the canoe approached.
By the end
of the nineteenth century, Buffalo Bayou as a major shipping lane was
on
the decline. Ocean going vessels exchanged cargo at docks below the
turning
basin, and the traffic upstream to Allen's Landing was primarily that
of
barges. By the turn of the twentieth century, the bayou has little or
no
commercial traffic. It is time to return the bayou to the canoes.