The story of the first wedding in San Marcos has often been told, but each time it has either been incomplete or incorrect. Weddings are always interesting events. The wedding of Miss Sarah Pitts and Mr. Wilson Randle was exceptionally so.
William C. Pitts, the father of Miss Sarah, and his brother, John D. Pitts, brought their families to San Marcos in the year 1847. William C. Pitts built his home, a double log cabin with a “lean-to” at the rear, on the west side of the court house square, and John D. Pitts (afterwards known as General Pitts) built near the present postoffice building. The Thomas McGehee farm house was several miles down the river.
The young folks of the settlement had gay times, in spite of hardships and the fear of Indians. It was a matter of small consequence to ride horseback a distance of 20 or 30 miles to a party. And parties and camp meetings afforded fine opportunities for courting! “Wilsey ” Randle (so called by his friends) lived in the town o f Seguin, and, being a civil engineer, came over to help survey San Marcos. Here he met the bright-eyed Miss Sarah and fell head-over-heels in love with her, wooed and won her. In due time the day of the wedding was announced, June 7, 1848. Everybody— who was anybody—for thirty miles around was invited to the big event, and all were present. Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Thomas McGehee, parents of George, John and Alex McGehee; Mr. and Mrs. Clay Cheatham, parents of Mrs. Captain Jim Storey; Mr. and Mrs. Young, parents of Mrs. Ed J. L. Green; Major Lindsey and daughters, and many others who were prominent in early local history.
There were busy times for several days before the wedding you may be sure, all the neighbors coming in to help in true neighborly spirit. And there were some fine cooks among those pioneer women. Their mantles fell upon their daughters’ daughters, for San Marcos enjoys still an enviable reputation for fine cooks. “Sister ” Minerva McGehee was delegated t o make the syllabub for the occasion. Now, for those who do not know, I will say, syllabub was somewhat like present-day boiled custard, only much more delicious, and was always “spiked,” though not enough to do any harm.
The supper table was placed out in the yard under a great live oak, as the house was too small to hold such a company at a wedding feast.
The town water system in 1848 consisted of the beautiful San Marcos river, a sled or drag, a barrel and bucket, a yoke of oxen, and a lad to drive them. Water was now needed, and the son, Billy Pitts, afterwards Captain Wm. A. Pitts of the Confederate Army, and his young friend, George McGehee, later Hon. Geo. T. McGehee of San Marcos, were told to go haul a barrel of water. They went, but in their haste to get back; not wanting to miss any of the ‘goin’s-on,’ they rushed the steers a bit, which made them hot and unruly, and they broke for the inviting shade of the tree under which the table was now groaning beneath stacks of delicious viands. Merciful heavens! The drag hit the corner of the table and calamity seemed imminent! Mrs. McGehee shouted, “Oh, Sister Pitts, they have spilt the Beelzebub! They have spilt the Beelzebub!” In her excitement she got names a little mixed. (However, too much syllabub heavily spiked might spell Beezlebub). Fortunately, the table was not entirely wrecked, and enough of the food was saved for the great feast.
It is almost too tragic to relate, but a second disaster followed close upon the heels of the first. It began to rain! But the dauntless spirits of those pioneer people were not to be thwarted. The table and all the good eats were quickly moved to the home of John D. Pitts, where the supper was served in due time. As a guest said in after years, “A grander supper was never set in San Marcos.” And listen to this—it was so muddy after the rain (no paved streets in those old days) that, when the time came for supper, the men literally picked up the girls and carried them up to the other house, so they wouldn’t ruin their pretty new slippers! How is that for fine gallantry!
The lovely bridesmaids were Popey Pitts, cousin of the bride, afterwards Mrs. Jas. L. Moore, and Ann McGehee, afterwards Mrs. Milton Watkins. The dresses of the bride and her maids were of the finest mull, so delicate and sheer that when wet, one of them could be placed in a big tea cup. So our modern misses have nothing on the girls of those early days for dainty textures in dress materials. The groomsmen were Gordon and William King, both of Seguin. Rev. Mordicai Yell, (though he was not really a ‘loud speaker’) a Methodist preacher, the first presiding elder for the West Texas Conference, serving the district, performed the ceremony.
When the festivities of the occasion were well spent, and old fashioned frontier hospitality had concluded a splendid social event, the groom and his bride left the scene on horseback for their home in Seguin. Instead of the thrill of going 60 miles an hour in an auto en route, they had another kind of thrill looking out for wild Indians who might be lurking in the tall grass at certain points in their journey for an attack. As evidence of the trustworthy qualities of Mr. Randle as a brave and courageous man, at the outbreak of the Civil War, General Ben McCulloch offered him a place on his official staff, but failing health prevented his accepting the honor. Several children were born to this happy union, the eldest daughter being our own worthy and much loved Mrs. Anna Kyle, widow of the late Robert Kyle. Mr. and Mrs. William C. Pitts (Uncle Billy as he was lovingly called in later years) at whose home the first wedding in San Marcos took place, were the honored grandparents of Mrs. Kyle and Wm. Pitts Rylander, also of this city.
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Article featured in the Frontier Times, Vol 21 No. 7, April 1944