The Alamo: The Birthplace of Texas

Right in the heart of downtown San Antonio
lies perhaps the most mythologized building in American history. The Alamo is a name etched onto the consciousness
of almost all of us, a place known from movies and TV shows. While the building itself is surprisingly
small, the stories and characters surrounding it are giants. We all know the names Davy Crockett and Jim
Bowie. We all know, too, the story of how a force
of less than 200 Texans inside its walls held the Mexican army at bay for a week, before
finally falling in a heroic last stand. But what do we really know of the Alamo itself? A former Catholic mission turned army garrison,
the Alamo was constructed in the early 18th century as an outpost of Christendom amid
the frontier’s Apache tribes. Originally a symbol of Spanish dominance,
it was only through a fluke of fate that it came to embody the promise of an independent
Texas. Forgotten for decades after the revolution,
nearly torn down in the 1900s, this is the story of how one small building became an
icon of American history. From the New World
If you’re looking for one man to thank for the fact the Alamo exists at all, look no
further than Father Antonio de San Buenaventura y Olivares. A Catholic friar, Father Olivares spearheaded
a drive at the dawn of the 18th Century to establish Christian missions deep in Native
American territory in modern-day Texas. But don’t assume he’d be pleased to see
just how venerated his mission has become. Father Olivares was a dyed-in-the-wool agent
of the Spanish crown. Back in the 1690s, the area around Texas looked
very different to how we’d picture it today. The Vice Royalty of New Spain took up not
just the whole of Mexico, but extended deep into what we’d now consider America. Not did this vast state actually border the
Thirteen Colonies. Back then, French-owned Louisiana was the
regional rival, a vast swathe of land encompassing parts of some 13 modern states. In both cases, though, Spanish and French
control was mostly theoretical. The frontiers of New Spain were vast tracts
of wilderness populated by Native American tribes who responded to Spanish claims of
sovereignty with a drawn out “yeeeeeeaaaah, right,” before going back to whatever they
were doing. This meant that it would take only the smallest
French invasion force to annex a colossal amount of Spanish territory. Father Olivares’s job was to make sure that
didn’t happen. The plan was simple. The friar and others like him would head north,
onto Native lands. At the time, the tribes in the area were in
a state of warfare. So the Spanish would come and build missions
that would offer protection against regional rivals. It was hoped the locals would become loyal
supporters of Spain, thus creating an indigenous buffer against the hated French. By 1708, Father Olivares had scouted out the
site of modern San Antonio and recommended it as somewhere to establish a Spanish presence. Come 1718, he’d established the first of
five missions there, Mission San Antonio de Valero. The mission known today as the Alamo. Not that the 1718 Alamo looked anything like
today’s Alamo. For one, it was a temporary structure. For another, it moved around, changing location
several times between 1718 and 1724. Finally, in 1724, the mission settled on its
modern day spot. By 1744, it was successful enough to be transformed
into a permanent structure made of stone. Over the following decades, Father Olivares
and his successors did their best to convert the locals into good Spanish citizens. But while the plan initially met with some
success, it soon became apparent that the primary thing the mission was spreading among
the Natives was not patriotism, but deadly smallpox. By the time 1793 rolled around, the elites
of New Spain decided the frontier needed more traditional garrisoning and secularized all
the missions. It turned out this decision had come just
in time. In late 1799, a terrifyingly ambitious, seemingly
undefeatable general seized power in France. Known as Napoleon Bonaparte, he quickly set
about reclaiming French territory that had been lost across the previous century, territory
that included Louisiana. With a hostile superpower suddenly back on
their doorstep, New Spain sent the Second Flying Company of San Carlos de Parras to
garrison the former Mission San Antonio de Valero. Originally dispatched from Alamo de Parras
near the Rio Grande, they were more commonly known as “Alamo Company”. Not long after they garrisoned the mission
in 1803, locals started referring to it simply as “the Alamo”. The Age of Upheaval
One of the ironies of Alamo Company’s arrival in San Antonio is that they were almost immediately
rendered unnecessary. 1803 was the year of the Louisiana Purchase,
when Napoleon sold off his newly reacquired territory to the fledgling USA. Suddenly, the chances of a French invasion
of New Spain were effectively nil. Still, Almo Company stayed on at the Alamo. Only now they weren’t the first line of
defense against Napoleonic hordes, but glorified border guards whose main job was stopping
Americans from sneaking into what we’d now call Texas and setting up shop. At least, that was the case until 1810. On September 16 that year, Father Hidalgo
issued something called the Cry of Dolores, kickstarting the Mexican War of Independence. And, just like that, Alamo Company found itself
caught in the middle of a sprawling civil war. For the first three years, things around San
Antonio were chaos. Alamo Company was technically meant to be
fighting on the side of New Spain. But the reality was that the company fractured. Some joined the ranks of the revolutionaries. At one point, the Alamo itself fell to the
pro-Mexican forces. On top of that, American fillibusters took
advantage of the chaos to try and invade and annex modern Texas. The mess lasted until 1813’s Battle of Medina. There, Spanish royalists crushed resistance
in San Antonio. Alamo Company came back into the Spanish fold. Incidentally, one of the royalist soldiers
at that battle was Lieutenant Antonio López de Santa Anna. You know how a TV series might briefly introduce
its Big Bad in episode one, thus setting them up for later in the season? Let’s just say the Battle of Medina was
Santa Anna’s early season cameo. By 1819, Spain was feeling confident enough
that it had this whole Mexican independence thing under control that it signed a treaty
with the US, giving up Florida in return for a clear border between the US and New Spain. Unfortunately, just two years later the Mexicans
had kicked the Spaniards out and declared a new nation. While this was great from the perspective
of not have Madrid lording it over them, it did mean the United States could no longer
be trusted to respect the 1819 treaty. So that’s how things stood in Texas at the
dawn of Mexican independence. In the century plus of Spanish rule, only
three sizeable permanent settlements had been built: Nacogdoches, Goliad, and San Antonio. On top of that, the independence war had killed
many, leaving Texas even emptier than before. If the new state of Mexico wanted to keep
the US out its northern territories, it was going to have to repopulate them. So the Mexican government decided to import
some new subjects. As we saw with the filibusters, Americans
were just itching to get into northern Mexico and exploit that sweet, fertile land. So the Mexicans let them. In the early 1820s, Mexico threw open the
door to settlers. In return for living on and fortifying the
Mexican border, they would get free land, and exemption from taxes. By the end of 1823, 500 whites had arrived
in modern Texas. The next year, Coahuila and Texas came into
being as a single state within Mexico. For the Mexicans, the plan seemed perfect. Buy the loyalty of new subjects and turn them
into staunch defenders of Mexico. But what hadn’t worked for the Spanish wouldn’t
work for the Mexicans. In no time at all, newly independent Mexico
was going to find itself home to its very own disloyal independence movement. Welcome to Texas
At this point, we need to take a quick break and survey the people living in Mexican Texas. First, there were the former-Spanish-turned-Mexicans,
the guys leftover from the days of New Spain. In Texas, they were referred to as Tejanos. While highly-inaccurate movies might make
you think the Tejanos sided with the Mexicans in the coming revolution, that’s not the
case. As early as 1824, many Tejano families were
making common cause with white settlers in agitating for independence. Speaking of the white settlers, they came
from all over. While many had started out in the USA, many
others came from England, Scotland, Germany, Ireland, wherever. After settling, they mostly became known as
Texians. From the start, many of them had designs on
making Texas either an independent republic, or part of the expanding USA. The Texians also brought another, less fortunate
group with them. One of the key points selling settlement in
Texas, for many whites, was that Mexico continued to allow slavery in the state. So the third major group in Texas was, unfortunately,
slaves. And yes, many of your heroes who died defending
the Alamo were also slavers. Ah, early 19th Century history. You’re nothing if not complicated. The final major grouping we should touch on
were the Native tribes. At the start of white settlement of Texas,
they likely comprised the majority of the population. When the battle finally explodes, just know
that all of these groups are going to be there, fighting alongside one another to stave off
Santa Anna’s army. And with that mention of Santa Anna, it’s
time to return to our narrative. For the small company based at the Alamo,
the 1820s must’ve been a crazy time. Now Mexican loyalists, they were involved
in helping crush both an 1826 Texian Rebellion, and an 1829 attempt by Spain to retake Mexico. Although Spain’s half-baked plan of reconquering
the Americas went as well as expected, it did have one major effect. The general who led the charge against the
Spaniards was Antonio López de Santa Anna – the same Santa Anna we last saw fighting
on the Spanish side in the war of independence. Not that Alamo company would’ve stopped
to think much about this. They’d have been too busy trying to digest
the enormous changes taking place. By the time of Santa Anna’s comeback war
against the Spanish, over 30,000 white Texians were living in the Texas, outnumbering the
Tejanos and Mexicans almost five to one. This huge demographic shift was followed by
an equally huge shift in government policy. Getting nervous about all the non-loyal whites
now living in their northern state, the Mexican authorities rebanned slavery in Texas, hoping
to drive the whites away. When that didn’t work, they ended the settlement
program, and tried reinstituting the suspended taxes. Rather than cool the fire of Texian and Tejano
resentment, it instead poured gasoline onto it. In 1832, a series of disturbances around modern-day
Houston resulted in the Battle of Velasco, in which Texians and Tejanos drove the Mexican
Army out the region. Although they stopped short of seceding, it
did leave the Alamo as one of only two functioning Mexican army garrisons in the whole of Texas. Still, things hadn’t hit an absolute low
point yet. There was still enough trust between Mexico
and Texas’s restive population that, when the settlement of Gonzales complained about
Native American attacks, Alamo company lent them a cannon. No-one could’ve known it at the time, but
that one cannon would soon become the spark that would set the whole prairie ablaze. “Come and Get it!” The last major action of Alamo Company came
on September 29, 1835. By now, the strained ties holding Texas within
Mexico had completely frayed. Two years before, Santa Anna had become president
of Mexico, a move initially supported by Texians. Then, in 1835, Santa Anna had abruptly scrapped
the constitution and replaced it with something called the Seven Laws. Now, the Seven Laws might more-accurately
be called the Seven Ways Santa Anna will Act like a Gigantic Penis. The Laws not only made Santa Anna into a dictator,
they removed federalism from Mexico entirely. From now on, Texas would be a mere department
run directly from Mexico City. When the news broke, Texas, Zacatecas, and
Yucatan all went into rebellion. So Santa Anna crushed them. Mercilessly. Zacatecas had suffered horrendously. And now it was fall, and Alamo Company was
being ordered to go retrieve that cannon they’d lent to Gonzales. The story of the Gonzales cannon is often
told as an example of Texan bravery. But it’s more the story of one man’s disillusionment. Lieutenant Francisco de Castañeda was the
guy heading the force to retake the cannon, and he was super not into Santa Anna’s whole
“I’m gonna act like a dick” thing. You can see this in the way he only languidly
moved on Gonzales, making camp rather than entering the town when challenged by 18 militiamen. You can see it too in the way Castañeda refused
to initiate a firefight, preferring instead to hang back. But you can especially see it when the battle
finally broke out. On October 2, a group of 140 Texas militiamen
attacked the Alamo Company camp, waving flags with pictures of the cannon and the words
“Come and Get it!” That’s the part everyone remembers. The part everyone forgets is that the battle
lasted mere moments before Castañeda stopped it and asked to speak to the Texians. In the following parley, Castañeda made it
clear he agreed with the Texians’ stated goal of restoring the Mexican constitution. They even asked him to switch sides and join
them. But Castañeda said his honor wouldn’t allow
him to do so. Then, with a heavy heart, he took his men
and retreated, the Gonzales cannon forgotten. A few weeks later, the invigorated Texas army
laid siege to the Alamo itself. For nearly two months, the soldiers inside
held out, desperate to cling onto one of the only Mexican outposts in the whole of Texas. But, on December 9, 1835, Alamo Company finally
surrendered. The Texans allowed them to leave unharmed
and, two days later, they withdrew south of the Rio Grande. Needless to say, Santa Anna was not impressed. As the Tejanos and Texians celebrated, Santa
Anna stormed out his palace and started raising his own army to personally go take the fight
to Texas. Come January, 1836, he was riding north at
the head of some 7,000 men. If you’re picturing Santa Anna leading a
band of patriotic Mexicans cheering his name, you’d be wrong. Over half of Santa Anna’s army were indigenous
peoples dragooned into fighting for him. They were given no footwear, no decent uniforms,
and very few weapons. Just bear in mind when the killing starts
that the army besieging the Alamo wasn’t comprised of bad guys. It was comprised of men who missed their homes. Who were only fighting because they were forced
to. On February 23, Santa Anna’s men at last
sighted a forlorn white building in the distance. It was the Alamo, the same garrison the Mexican
Army had abandoned only three months before. And Santa Anna was determined to take it back. The Long Wait
The strangest thing about the Battle of the Alamo is that it shouldn’t have happened
at all. Although it was on a strategic road, it wasn’t
that important. Santa Anna could’ve happily bypassed it
without hurting his overall war strategy. But no. Santa Anna’s pride had been wounded. And so we find ourselves here, about to witness
all 200-odd Texans inside the Alamo get massacred. Speaking of the defenders, it was only through
sheer fluke they were all there. Take Davy Crockett. If anyone can name a single fighter at the
Alamo, it’s Crockett. A famous frontiersman who’d fought alongside
Andrew Jackson in the Creek War, Crockett was the closest thing America had to a celebrity. He’d served as a Teneessee congressman for
three terms, his survival skills were legendary. But he’d never intended to come fight for
Texas independence. He’d been preparing a bid for the 1836 presidential
election and only taken off after he lost his congressional seat in a shock vote. Jim Bowie was less of a fluke. A former conman and slave smuggler, he’d
fled Louisiana for Texas after things got too hot in the 1820s. By the time of the Alamo, he’d taught himself
near-perfect Spanish and cultivated deep ties to the Tejano community. And again, we must emphasise that a lot of
the Alamo defenders were Tejanos. The last thing we want is people leaving this
video still convinced the Alamo was all about heroic blonde settlers sticking it to some
swarthy Mexicans. Finally, there was William B Travis. Travis’s being at the Alamo was almost as
unlikely as Crockett being there. A lawyer by training, Travis had been destined
for a life of provincial obscurity, until he happened to get caught up in the 1832 disturbances
around modern Houston. After the Battle of Velasco – remember, when
the Texans drove the Mexican army out of one of its garrisons? – Travis signed up for the local militia in
a burst of patriotic fervor. And now here he was, in charge of the enlisted
men, trying to defend the Alamo. It wasn’t an easy task. The Alamo you see today is only a fraction
of what it once was. Back in 1836, it included a massive 3 acre
courtyard, surrounded by very low, very thin walls. Fortifying such a structure would’ve been
as difficult as building a house out of custard. Not that Travis wasn’t going to try. On February 23, Santa Anna’s forces fired
cannons at the Alamo’s walls. They flew a red flag, showing there would
be no mercy for anyone who surrendered. It was the beginning of a long waiting game
for all those trapped inside. By the time it was over, nearly all of them
would be dead. The Short Fight
Over the next few days, Santa Anna slowly massed his forces, until the Alamo was surrounded
by thousands of soldiers. Inside, Davy Crockett played the fiddle to
keep the Texans’ spirits up, while Travis wrote letters, most famously to the friend
who was looking after his son. “Take care of my little boy…” he wrote. “If the country should be lost and I should
perish, he will have nothing but the proud recollection that he is the son of a man who
died for his country.” Despite the fighting words, though, dying
was the last thing anyone wanted to do. While movies depict the Alamo defenders as
stoic men who accepted their fates, the reality is they hoped to get out alive. On March 5, as Santa Anna’s forces began
lashing ladders to the walls in preparation for an all out assault, the defenders sent
a woman out to negotiate a surrender. Santa Anna told her bluntly that there would
be no negotiation, only bloodshed. That bloodshed finally came in the early hours
of March 6. At around 05:30am, Santa Anna sent a force
of 1,100 men to take the Alamo. What should’ve been a sneak attack failed
when one officer, perhaps trying to raise the morale of dragooned, demoralized soldiers,
shouted Viva Santa Anna! Inside, Travis responded by yelling “come
on boys, the Mexicans are upon us, and we’ll give them hell!” The next 30 minutes were chaos. Inside the walls, the Texans filled their
cannons with scrap metal and turned them on the advancing army, causing injuries so gruesome
we don’t even want to discuss them. For their part, Santa Anna’s men felled
Travis with a musket shot through the head. When around fifty Texians inside took fright
and tried to escape, they were hacked to pieces with bayonets. By 06:00am, Santa Anna’s men had breached
the walls. As the defenders converged on the chapel for
a desperate last stand, Jim Bowie was massacred in his sick bed, where he lay dying of typhoid
pneumonia. The final end came when a Mexican cannon blew
the chapel doors open. Davy Crockett and a tiny handful of survivors
were taken prisoner, only for Santa Anna to order them all summarily executed. Less than forty minutes after it had begun,
the legendary Battle of the Alamo was over. By that time, somewhere in the range of 187
to 257 Texians and Tejanos were dead, alongside anywhere between 145 and 600 of Santa Anna’s
men. Walking among the bodies afterward, Santa
Anna is said to have muttered to himself: “Much blood has been shed, but the battle
is over. It was but a small affair.” Yet we should point out that not even Santa
Anna was completely awful. After the executions of Crockett and the other
survivors, he ordered the women and children be allowed to leave unharmed. He even told his men to free the slaves the
Texians had brought with them to defend the mission. It’s down to one of these slaves, a man
called “Joe” who told his tale, that we know what happened at the Alamo at all. Finally, the dead Texans were loaded onto
a giant pyre and burned. Crockett, Travis, and Bowie all went up in
a cloud of evil black smoke. Santa Anna had won. The fighting was over. The Alamo had fallen. The Legend
But, of course, it wasn’t over at all. In the aftermath of the Alamo, Santa Anna
won the Battle of Coleto, where another 430 Texian and Tejano prisoners were put to the
sword. Unfortunately for Santa Anna, the double massacre
made perfect propaganda for the Texans. At the Battle of San Jacinto just a few weeks
later, Santa Anna’s forces were surprised by an army of Texans yelling “Remember the
Alamo!” The 18 minute battle saw 630 of Santa Anna’s
men slaughtered, including one young drummer boy shot through the head at point blank range
while he begged for his life. It was the first example in history of the
legend of the Alamo being used to stir up patriotism. It certainly wouldn’t be the last. In the aftermath, Santa Anna himself was captured. Held for an indeterminate time in Texas, he
was finally forced to sign an agreement recognizing Texan independence before being dropped unceremoniously
across the border in Mexico. Although Santa Anna returned to his home in
disgrace, it wasn’t the end of him. Over the course of his career, he would become
leader of Mexico 11 more times. 11! After losing half the darn country! Sheesh. I’ve never lost any Mexican territory, and
you don’t see them letting me be president. Texan independence was proclaimed on March
2, 1836. Not long after, the new republic celebrated
by… err, relegalizing slavery. Sigh. 19th century history. It’s complicated. But what of the Alamo itself? Well, it might interest you to know that,
despite its name, there was never only one “battle of the Alamo.” Throughout the Texas Republic, the Mexican
army tried to reconquer their old territory. Since it was right on the road north, the
Alamo was repeatedly besieged and occupied. Once Texas joined the US, the Mexican incursions
stopped, but not the cycle of siege and occupation. In 1861, just as the US Civil War was kicking
off, a contingent of Confederate troops surrounded the Alamo and laid siege to the Union soldiers
garrisoned there. Four years later, in 1865, the victorious
Union Army would return the favor by surrounding the Confederate troops in the Alamo. In both instances, those inside surrendered
without a shot being fired. And so we come to the end of the Alamo’s
story. Beginning in 1876, parts of it began to be
sold off, until there was nothing left of the historic courtyard William B Travis had
died defending all those decades ago. By 1903, only the chapel and a few side rooms
remained. They were sold to a developer who intended
to knock them down, but were saved after a San Antonio schoolteacher named Adina de Zavala
convinced wealthy rancher Clara Driscoll to buy them for the state. Just five years later, the state passed a
bill turning the Alamo into a protected monument and the rest, as they say, is history. But whose history is it? As we’ve seen today, the history of the
Alamo is far more complex and nuanced than is commonly assumed. There were many heroes who spent time there,
beyond just the big names we remember. Heroes like Lieutenant Castañeda, who chose
pragmatism over a pointless battle. Heroes like the anonymous slave “Joe”,
who survived the bloodshed to tell the tale. Heroes like the forgotten men of Alamo Company,
who served their country through times of upheaval. Or like the anonymous Tejanos who died defending
the Alamo, only to be written out the history books by those who wanted Texas’s foundational
myth to be purely, pathetically white. Even the poor wretches in Santa Anna’s army
– forced at swordpoint into Texian cannonfire – were brave men who just had the crappy luck
to live under an unstable dictator. It’s said history is written by the victors. In the Alamo’s case, history was not just
written by the victors, but also edited to scrub the story of its nuances. To make it into a simple myth. Hopefully, with this video today, we’ve
helped bring this fascinating, complex story back out the realm of mythology… and into

60 thoughts on “The Alamo: The Birthplace of Texas

  1. As a proud Texan, Thank you all for this perfect video. I've been reading up on the "whitewashing" of history lately and cannot believe how bad its gotten for some subjects but thankfully that is finally changing.

    Our entire world is changing. I hope its for the better. Love each other.

  2. The Alamo is a Great place to visit. The caretakers there tell the real stories of the History.
    After a nice visit, you can walk across the street and go in a nice air conditioned mall. You can shop, have a drink and have a nice meal! Great video.

  3. When given the choice of fact or legend, we Texans prefer the legend of the Alamo of 183 Texian soldiers besieged for 13 days behind the walls of an old church fortification under a flag that had the defiant number "1824" stitched in the center, whom selflessly and gallantly stood their ground against overwhelming odds to delay a much larger enemy force, and died for their cause forcing a tyrannical dictator to pay for every square inch of soil with the blood of his own men.

  4. Used to like this channel but he went way out on a limb with his left wing beliefs on this one, they were called Texicans and it was a group of Americans that were sick of corrupt America, and a group of Mexicans that were sick of corrupt Mexico that made that stand. They wanted a republic, that was not a corrupt American democracy, or a Mexican dictatorship. This guy's absolute house cat version shows he knows nothing about military tactics, it was a delaying action allowing Houston to put together an army that later defeated Santana

  5. Does anyone else get annoyed when Simon presents things as decidedly factual, when there is no consensus on the matter? There are several conflicting reports on Davy Crockett's death, ranging from being found dead surrounded by 16 dead Mexican soldiers, to surrendering and being executed. There are even reports he survived. Adding some caveats like, this was the most likely scenario, or many scholars believe this happened, would go a long way towards adding credibility. This isn't the only instance or video of Simon being guilty of this.

  6. I remember my drill instructors making fun of me being from Texas. "Only steers and queers come from Texas". I grew up in the RGV, five minutes away from the bridge, it's basically Mexico.

  7. My maternal grandfather William "Bill" Larson was stationed in San Antonio, Tx in 1916-17 as part of the US Mexican Punitive Expedition . He was under General "Black Jack" Pershing and Lt. George Patton Sr chasing Pancho Villa and his bandits back into Mexico after their raid on Columbus NM ! Grandpa was shot in the head by one of the bandits while they were chasing them and was left for dead. Fortunately it was a grazing wound and grandpa survived but bore the scar until his death in 1980. After Vietnam when I was restarting my Army career I was posted to Ft. Sam Houston and grandpa who had never been back to Texas told me to be sure to see the Alamo. He said you could stand on the wall and see for miles. However, when I went there in the mid 70s the Alamo was surrounded by twenty story buildings all build in the 1920-30 and later and they wouldn't let you on the walls anyway !

  8. Even though you kind of prefaced it with how identity politicians are colossal pooheads"…pathetically white." was unfortunately worded.
    When "white" can be replaced with "corrupt and bigoted" as a better choice, it unfortunately equates the two in narrative terms.
    Alas, such is the legacy the evil of race-baiting and identity politics of the 2010s, "word fear", "syntax crime" and other spooks. Carry on sir.

  9. "Napoleon Boner-Party", I fear you have forever corrupted my vocabulary. And the imagery. Thanks for the rule 34 nightmare.

  10. As is stated in this video the history of the Alamo is very complex, made up mostly myth and legend so, some of the mistakes within can be forgiven. However the flag carried by those at Gonzales states "Come and Take It" is a very bad mistake and not forgivable. In the TV mini series Gone to Texas with Sam Elliott playing the part of Sam Houston I was the Texian that shot the little dummer boy. I also work for 5 weeks as a Texian and Mexican soldier for the movie playing on the Alamo Imax screen in San Antonio where, I was born. Nice try of another attempt to rewrite history.

  11. Great video Simon, if someone mentioned the Alamo all I ever thought was ‘Murica, very informative. Also “I never lost any Mexico.”, legend.

  12. ‘Only to be written out of the history books by those who wanted Texas’ foundational story to be purely and pathetically white’ wasn’t most of the info about the Alamo given by the slave Joe?

  13. "Texas is the finest portion of the globe that has ever blessed my vision."
    -Sam Houston.
    I'm gonna go have a bowl of Texas Red….

  14. So much wrong with this video. The one thing that really pisses me off is the smug way you stated that our history has been whitewashed. I grew up here and I can tell you that the brave Tejanos that fought in our revolution have never been left out of history. Many South Texas towns are named in their honor and have been for well over 150 years. BTW it’s “Come and Take It”

  15. 9:16 when you say "slavers" you mean "slave owners" correct? cause there is a big difference between slavers and slave owners. one went around catching slaves, the other just owned them.

  16. Awesome video Simon. Keep up the good work. The missions are truly amazing when you visit them. I'm glad to see that they a finaly recognized as a world heritage site. Hopefully we get some sunshine here in San Antonio soon.

  17. "purely and pathetically white." No my dude. The only type of white that would say that is truly the pathetic one. Your virtue signaling is absolutely disgusting. Pathetic.

  18. Still waiting for you to come to South Africa. Might I suggest the Battle of Bloedrivier? Isandlwanana is particularly gruesome.

  19. When were the Tejanos written out of it? I was born in '75, and I was taught they were a part of the fight for Texan independence. Sure the white folks got the majority of the ink (especially when discussing individuals), but Tejano participation was included in the discussion. If for no other reason, it makes Texan independence seem more legitimate. If it's just a bunch of Americans moving in and taking over, it comes across more as stealing. If you include the fact that the locals joined them in rebelling against Santa Anna and the Mexican government, then you have a more legitimate independence movement. The Tejanos joined in for a number of reasons. They weren't all that fond of Santa Anna and the crap he was pulling. The region became much more prosperous after they and the transplanted Americans started working together. Oh, and a bunch of the people who moved to the region were single men, many of whom would eventually marry Tejano women…including the daughters of some of the most powerful Tejano families. So, they had common interests, a common enemy, and in a number of cases family ties.

  20. You failed to mention that Travis left his wife and children and all his debts and fled to Texas. With the idea of starting a plantation.

  21. Proud Native American Tejano here and I love that you told the truth that my ancestors and the ADOS are the real heroes of the Alamo in this..

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