Fiddler’s tune haunts San Bernard
By Michael Baker
The phantom fiddler who plays at the San Bernard River has had a tune stuck in his head for more than a century.
Several accounts of visitors to the area known as Music Bend, about three miles from the Gulf of Mexico, mention ethereal music. The type of music varies. It’s sometimes described as resembling a harp, a violin, a flute or the human voice, Bertha McKee Dobie wrote as part of the publications of the Texas Folk-Lore Society.
One of the more memorable accounts, as Dobie described it, was given by a Mrs. West, a Velasco resident.
“Sometimes it is preceded by a very dreadful noise, resembling the sounds made by a steer which, having been knocked in the head, falls kicking and beating the ground and bellowing in pain,” Dobie wrote. “After the noise has passed, the violins begin to play.”
Numerous legends give reasons for the music, most involving an ill-fated fiddle player. In her book “Ghosts Along the Brazos,” Catherine Munson Foster recounted the oldest version.
Two fishermen lived on an island — now called Fiddler’s Island — about a mile from the mouth of the river, Foster wrote. One constantly played a section of a song on his fiddle, unable to remember the rest. The repetitive playing drove the other fisherman insane. He killed the fiddle player with an ax and dumped the body and the fiddle into the river. But the fiddler continued to play, searching to remember the rest of the song.
Other tales are less gruesome. One, as recorded by Dobie, involved a fiddler who lost his bride-to-be on the riverbank to a snakebite. Distraught, he moved to an island in the river, where he was buried with his violin and bow.
In a column in the Oct. 1, 1961, issue of The Brazosport Facts, H. Bascom Simpson offered advice to those wishing to hear the phantom fiddler.
“The best way to hear the sounds, it was said, was to get into a canoe and quietly row along the spot,” Simpson wrote. “Listening in what some termed a spooky atmosphere to catch the musical vibrations, people would also hear other sounds, most which were explainable, that would sometimes override the sweet tones.”
Jamie Murray, the information services coordinator for the Brazoria County Historical Museum, visited the spot often in the 1950s. It was a great spot for fishing, but she never heard the music, she said.
Few hear him anymore, and several have proposed theories on the origin of the music.
In the Sept. 8, 1959, edition of the Dallas Morning News, Angleton resident Herbert Stevens proposed that the music was the sound of the river going through narrows to meet the Gulf of Mexico. Dredging in the river had eliminated the sound, he said.
Another man claimed it was a form of waterbug unique to the San Bernard area making the sound, Sigman Byrd wrote in the June 5, 1952, issue of the Houston Press.
Foster had her own theory, Murray said. The sound was made by wind hitting oyster shells, which are no longer prevalent because of pollution, she said. In her book, Foster blames an influx of visitors.
“Unfortunately, the music has not been heard in years, perhaps because the once green and somnolent river has become a busy thoroughfare,” Foster wrote. “With all the barges, outboard motors, and water skiers, it would be hard to hear the phantom fiddler even if he is still playing.”
While the fiddler has been supposedly silent for decades, perhaps his musical motif has not yet vanished. The small community of Rivers End is nearby. Murray said a friend who is staying in a cabin in the area has reported hearing it.
It just takes a little faith, Dobie wrote.
“According to Mrs. West, the music never plays for those who laugh at it or doubt it,” she wrote. “But those who row out over Music Bend with an open mind may hear music sweeter than any played with hands.”
The phantom fiddler who plays at the San Bernard River has had a tune stuck in his head for more than a century.
Several accounts of visitors to the area known as Music Bend, about three miles from the Gulf of Mexico, mention ethereal music. The type of music varies. It’s sometimes described as resembling a harp, a violin, a flute or the human voice, Bertha McKee Dobie wrote as part of the publications of the Texas Folk-Lore Society.
One of the more memorable accounts, as Dobie described it, was given by a Mrs. West, a Velasco resident.
“Sometimes it is preceded by a very dreadful noise, resembling the sounds made by a steer which, having been knocked in the head, falls kicking and beating the ground and bellowing in pain,” Dobie wrote. “After the noise has passed, the violins begin to play.”
Numerous legends give reasons for the music, most involving an ill-fated fiddle player. In her book “Ghosts Along the Brazos,” Catherine Munson Foster recounted the oldest version.
Two fishermen lived on an island — now called Fiddler’s Island — about a mile from the mouth of the river, Foster wrote. One constantly played a section of a song on his fiddle, unable to remember the rest. The repetitive playing drove the other fisherman insane. He killed the fiddle player with an ax and dumped the body and the fiddle into the river. But the fiddler continued to play, searching to remember the rest of the song.
Other tales are less gruesome. One, as recorded by Dobie, involved a fiddler who lost his bride-to-be on the riverbank to a snakebite. Distraught, he moved to an island in the river, where he was buried with his violin and bow.
In a column in the Oct. 1, 1961, issue of The Brazosport Facts, H. Bascom Simpson offered advice to those wishing to hear the phantom fiddler.
“The best way to hear the sounds, it was said, was to get into a canoe and quietly row along the spot,” Simpson wrote. “Listening in what some termed a spooky atmosphere to catch the musical vibrations, people would also hear other sounds, most which were explainable, that would sometimes override the sweet tones.”
Jamie Murray, the information services coordinator for the Brazoria County Historical Museum, visited the spot often in the 1950s. It was a great spot for fishing, but she never heard the music, she said.
Few hear him anymore, and several have proposed theories on the origin of the music.
In the Sept. 8, 1959, edition of the Dallas Morning News, Angleton resident Herbert Stevens proposed that the music was the sound of the river going through narrows to meet the Gulf of Mexico. Dredging in the river had eliminated the sound, he said.
Another man claimed it was a form of waterbug unique to the San Bernard area making the sound, Sigman Byrd wrote in the June 5, 1952, issue of the Houston Press.
Foster had her own theory, Murray said. The sound was made by wind hitting oyster shells, which are no longer prevalent because of pollution, she said. In her book, Foster blames an influx of visitors.
“Unfortunately, the music has not been heard in years, perhaps because the once green and somnolent river has become a busy thoroughfare,” Foster wrote. “With all the barges, outboard motors, and water skiers, it would be hard to hear the phantom fiddler even if he is still playing.”
While the fiddler has been supposedly silent for decades, perhaps his musical motif has not yet vanished. The small community of Rivers End is nearby. Murray said a friend who is staying in a cabin in the area has reported hearing it.
It just takes a little faith, Dobie wrote.
“According to Mrs. West, the music never plays for those who laugh at it or doubt it,” she wrote. “But those who row out over Music Bend with an open mind may hear music sweeter than any played with hands.”
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