Dining on the Old Spanish Trail
Our critic eats a little history
San Antonio Current
9/5/2007

By Mark Jones

In the 1920s, an ambitious multi-million-dollar highway called the Old
Spanish Trail was constructed to provide the first major route between
Florida and California. San Antonio served a crucial role. Not only
was Fredericksburg Road the mid-point of this grand travelway, but its
construction was championed locally by a torchbearer and fabulist
named Harral Ayres.

In Old Spanish Trail literature he often invoked mythic elements of an
ennobled past. "Whenever the traveler picks up the highway or its
territory the Spanish atmosphere greets him," he waxed. "East or west,
desert, mountains or gulf, the marks of the padres and conquistadores
are there to make men pause and try to peer into that courageous
past." With this wistful invitation to travel, I had to throw on my pack.

Although Ayres's writing was mainly poetic silliness, Fredericksburg
Road did possess a grandeur independent of wise men on donkeys wearing
pith helmets. Although the charm of Fredericksburg Road's Art Deco
district has been resurrected to a degree by the city's rehabilitation
project, the area south, between Interstate 10 and the FivePoints
intersection, awaits its rebirth.

What follows is a journey down this overlooked section of
Fredericksburg Road to explore current points of interest, as well as
an attempt to "pause and peer into that courageous past," whatever
that may entail …

Like many travels, this one began early and with a good breakfast. At
819 Fredericksburg I came across Harvest Day Bakery's wooden sign
advertising three donuts and a coffee for $1 — conquistador-era prices.

Stepping inside, I found a classic Mexican panaderia full of a wide
variety of sweets. The coffee and donuts were enough for me but it
would have been wrong to stop there. I tried a concha and polvorone on
the strong recommendation of another customer. Other delights were
thrown in a bag for me. It must have weighed three pounds, yet cost
less than $2. It wasn't the best panaderia I've been to, but the goods
were so affordable it was difficult to complain.

Next was lunch at Garcia's Mexican Restaurant at 842 Fredericksburg. I
sat down at the counter and ordered a Mexican coke, a brisket taco
with guacamole and pico de gallo, a carne guisada taco, a pork-chop
taco, and carne de puerco en chili verde. They were all unbelievably
good. I was torn between the joy I felt for the food and regret for
having toiled away so many years at mediocre Tex-Mex restaurants.

The brisket taco was what really sent my head spinning. How could a
taqueria serve the best barbecue in town? I later talked to the
owners, the three Garcia brothers — Andrew, Julio, and John — and
learned the key to their success. The family recipes have been guarded
and passed down from their grandfather to their mother and now to
them. No one else has cooked at Garcia's since they opened in 1962.
For high quality on a dime, I don't think there is a better Tex-Mex
joint in town.

I rolled downhill to Martinez Barbacoa and Tamales at 728
Fredericksburg. It was an early Saturday afternoon and the counter was
busy with customers ordering pounds of tamales, as well as barbacoa
and Big Red combinations to go. I sampled the pork tamales but was
more interested in the bean and jalapeño version, which was savory and
relatively light. The jalapeño was spicy but not sweat-inducing.

Though Martinez Barbacoa and Tamales is only open Friday to Sunday,
owner Marco Martinez told me he works every one of his "days off" to
prepare for the next weekend. I sense it is quite tiring, perhaps like
working in the hull of a steamship. Customers send his tamales all
across the country to such places as Colorado, California, Hawaii,
Wisconsin, and even Iraq for soldiers serving in the war. I left
satisfied, though I later heard the lean barbacoa is the real star of
the menu.

I walked next door to a small park beside a row of Spanish Colonial
Revival storefronts to "pause and peer into that courageous past." In
front of one of the storefronts at 106 Michigan I noticed a leather
corset on a mannequin. Its presence was surreal. A handmade sign
labeled "Fyrechylde" added to the intrigue.

I entered Fyrechylde and found a shop full of corsets — "The Underbust
Cincher," "Cinnamon Girl," and the "Theodora." Owner and designer
Norma Hartman was very down to earth and businesslike. She explained
that about 80 percent of her corset sales are to "vanillas,"a term for
people not into the goth/fetish scenes. Norma also uses her
considerble sewing skills to make costumes for theatrical plays and
the occasional tailoring job. She mentioned doing work for a
neighborhood priest, although it wasn't for a corset. I had to ask.

I took a breath and looked across the street at a different Spanish
Colonial Revival building at 731 Fredericksburg. A discreet black
stencil on the wall read "Mayan Order." I had been trying to soak up
the spirit of the padres and conquistadores of old Spain, but what to
make of the Mayan Order? A rejection of Spanish colonialism? Artist
Rolando Briseño loosely describes it as a New Age, self-help
organization that's been in existence since the 1930s. Other people in
the neighborhood believe it's a La Raza/Mexican Mason secret
brotherhood. I learned from various historians of Rose Dawn, "the star
girl astrologer," Koran, the turbaned mentalist, and their former
boss, the Kansas "Ponce De Leon," Dr. John Romulus Brinkley, a surgeon
infamous for transplanting goat balls into men to improve their virility.

Next to the Mayan Order is St. Ann's Parish. Neighbor Jonathon Card
informed me that St. Ann's was once a movie palace known as the Uptown
Theater, and a St. Ann's custodian named Antonio Barron graciously
gave me a tour of the former cinema. Though some wonderful ornamental
touches near the stage remained, almost all other traces were removed
when a basketball court was added for the parish school in 1960.
Digging around the archives of the Conservation Society and the
collection of Rolando Briseño and Angel Rodriguez-Diaz, I learned that
when the Uptown was built in 1928, it was a lavish, "million-dollar
theater" featuring a luxurious courtyard fountain in true Andalucian
style.

Before it was sold to St. Ann's, the Uptown became an arthouse theater
called The Arts. In the long tradition of noble San Antonio failures,
The Arts had a glorious but disastrous two-year run serving free
espresso and screening the films of Jean Renoir and other European
masters. Around this time the theater showed some low-brow burlesque
on the side to pay the bills. Rodriguez-Diaz remembered hearing of a
memorable show with the famous "Hubba Hubba Girl," Evelyn West, "The
Girl with the $50,000 Treasure Chest." Her valuable bosom was insured
for $50,000 by Lloyd's of London, with a reasonable annual premium of
$122.22.

Outside, the sun was headed toward the horizon. I trekked down the
Trail toward 5 Points and came across Angie's Patio, an inviting
icehouse at 323 Fredericksburg. It looked like a good place to end my
odyssey. A breeze was blowing and Angie opened the large garage door
to cool the interior. I ordered a beer and enjoyed the friendly
neighborhood atmosphere as the day wound down. I may not have glimpsed
the glorious past of conquistadores and padres, but I think what I saw
was well worth the trip. •

________________________________________
Jones's Old Spanish Trail
Harvest Day Bakery
819 Fredericksburg
(210) 320-3761

Garcia's Mexican Restaurant
842 Fredericksburg

Martinez Barbacoa and Tamales
728 Fredericksburg
(210) 734-6621
Angie's Patio

323 Fredericksburg
(210) 738-1423