Texan Edge

Tweed Scott

  The Texan Edge Texas has never been short on stories. Some belong to famous names. Others belong to people you've probably never heard of. Some changed Texas forever, while others simply tell us something about the people who lived here and the place Texas became. I'm Tweed Scott, and on The Texan Edge, I tell those stories. We'll wander through Texas history, meet remarkable people, uncover stories that have been overlooked, and occasionally stop for something that's just plain fun. But history isn't really the destination. It's the vehicle. Because somewhere inside these old Texas stories, there's usually something worth carrying with us—a little courage, ingenuity, determination, humor, or maybe just a different way of looking at the world. You don't have to be born in Texas to understand that. You just need a little Texas state of mind. The Texan Edge — not just a podcast, but a Texas state of mind. 

  1. 7h ago

    The Popcorn Can Wonder

    Send us Fan Mail   Description George Ballas had a problem with the grass around his trees. His solution involved an automatic car wash, an old popcorn can, some fishing line, and a lawn edger. It sounds ridiculous—until it works. The Houston businessman and former dance instructor turned that backyard experiment into the Weed Eater, built a multimillion-dollar business after established companies showed little interest, and left behind a pretty good example of what The Texan Edge calls a HOW thinker. And just when you think the story is about lawn equipment, the Ballas family takes us right back to the dance floor. Show Notes George Ballas wasn't born in Texas, but Houston became the place where one of his most famous ideas took root. Before he became an inventor, Ballas was a dancer, instructor, and businessman who built Houston's enormous Dance City USA. Then a frustrating problem in his own yard sent his imagination in an entirely different direction. After watching the flexible spinning brushes in an automatic car wash, Ballas began experimenting. Eventually, he combined a lawn edger with an old popcorn can and lengths of fishing line. The crude prototype worked—and became the beginning of the Weed Eater. When manufacturers and potential backers weren't interested, Ballas didn't stop. He took his invention directly to consumers, demonstrated it on television, and built a business that grew from roughly $570,000 in sales in 1972 to more than $40 million just four years later. But there's another reason George Ballas belongs on The Texan Edge. He approached a problem by asking something simple: not “Can it be done?” but “How can I do it?” And the story has one last turn. Ballas began on the dance floor. His son Corky became a champion ballroom dancer, and his grandson Mark Ballas became known to millions through Dancing with the Stars. Sometimes the route from Point A to Point B goes straight through a backyard with a popcorn can. The Texan Edge — Not just a podcast, but a Texas state of mind. Our porch light is always on.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  2. 3d ago

    The Devil's Backbone

    Send us Fan Mail   Description  There’s a stretch of road between Wimberley and Blanco called the Devil’s Backbone. In daylight, it’s some of the prettiest country in Texas. After dark? Well, that’s another matter.  For generations, people have told strange stories about this limestone ridge—ghostly riders, unexplained sounds, and things seen in the canyons that nobody could quite explain.  In this special Halloween episode of The Texan Edge, Tweed turns to two stories collected by Texas folklorist Bert Wall: the mysterious riders reportedly heard and seen by more than one person, and the unsettling tale of an experienced professional hunter who went looking for a livestock predator in 1948—and came back 35 days later wanting nothing more than to leave.  Are they true? You can decide that for yourself.  But if you ever hear hoofbeats along the Devil’s Backbone after dark...  Keep driving.  Show Notes  For our Halloween episode, we head into the Texas Hill Country and down Ranch Road 32—the Devil’s Backbone.  Bert Wall spent years collecting the strange stories told by people who lived and worked along the Backbone. In this episode, we explore two of them.  First are the Mystery Riders. Wall’s ranch foreman, Lynn Gentry, reported hearing what sounded like approaching thunder before realizing it was the pounding of horses’ hooves. Gentry said he went outside and saw a group of mounted men who appeared to him to be Confederate soldiers. Other people later reported similar experiences.  Then comes The Predator, a story Wall said was told to him in 1983 by an elderly World War II veteran about events supposedly occurring in 1948. Ranchers plagued by livestock killings hired an experienced professional hunter. What he reportedly encountered included an enormous white ram with red eyes, a cave filled with rattlesnakes, what appeared to be chests of gold—and an experience frightening enough that the hunter wanted no part of any of it.  These are only two of the many stories associated with the Devil’s Backbone. There are plenty more waiting out there in those Hill Country canyons for another night.  Primary source: Bert Wall, The Devil’s Backbone: Ghost Stories from the Texas Hill Country  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  3. 5d ago

    The Aurora Airship Mystery

    Send us Fan Mail Description In April 1897, a Texas newspaper reported that a mysterious airship crashed into a windmill in the little Wise County town of Aurora. The pilot reportedly wasn't from this world. He may have been from Mars. And the people of Aurora were going to bury him. Nearly 130 years later, people are still looking for that grave. This is the strange story of the Aurora airship mystery—an 1897 newspaper report, a missing grave marker, a search for evidence, and a Texas legend that stubbornly refuses to go away.  Show Notes On April 19, 1897, readers of The Dallas Morning News encountered an extraordinary story. Two days earlier, according to Aurora correspondent S. E. Haydon, a mysterious airship had drifted over the little Wise County town, struck Judge J. S. Proctor's windmill and exploded. There was supposedly a pilot aboard—and Haydon reported that the badly damaged remains were “not an inhabitant of this world.” The pilot was reportedly buried in Aurora Cemetery. Then the story went quiet. More than 75 years later, investigators came to Aurora looking for answers. They interviewed elderly residents, searched for the crash site, examined pieces of metal and investigated an unidentified grave with a curious sandstone marker. Then the marker disappeared. In this episode of The Texan Edge, we follow the Aurora story from the original 1897 newspaper account through the 1973 investigation and the theory that the whole thing may have been an elaborate Texas newspaper yarn. Did something really fall out of the Texas sky? Was S. E. Haydon simply having some fun? Or has this story survived for nearly 130 years precisely because nobody can quite put it to rest? Sometimes history and folklore occupy the same little patch of Texas ground.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  4. Oct 22

    Who Do I Work For Today?

    Send us Fan Mail   Description  Who Do I Work For Today?  Imagine showing up for work Thursday morning and discovering that somebody else owns the place—because your boss had been playing poker Wednesday night.  That's the old story longtime Southside Market employee Bud Frazier told about the early days of the legendary Elgin barbecue business.  But the poker game is only half the story. Bud spent most of his life at Southside, carrying with him something almost as valuable as the business itself: the knowledge of how to make its famous sausage.  This is a Texas story about barbecue, poker, an unwritten recipe, and one employee who just kept showing up.  Show Notes  Southside Market's story begins in Elgin, Texas, in 1882, when William Moon sold fresh meat from a horse-drawn wagon.  Without refrigeration, smoking meat and making sausage were practical ways to preserve what couldn't be sold fresh. From those beginnings grew one of Texas's best-known barbecue businesses.  Then comes one of the great legends in Southside history.  Longtime employee Bud Frazier later told Ernest Bracewell that during the Lee Wilson years, Southside Market sometimes changed hands during Wednesday-night poker games. Bud could leave work Wednesday evening and return Thursday morning to discover he had a different boss.  Southside itself treats the poker story as legend, and that's how we're telling it.  Tweed has a personal connection to the tale, too. Years ago, he interviewed a member of the Bracewell family and heard the story directly from them.  But Bud Frazier's importance to Southside went far beyond poker.  When Ernest Bracewell bought the business in 1968, Southside's sausage recipe apparently wasn't written down. Bud had been making it for decades, so Bracewell watched what he did and recorded the process.  Bud retired in 1971 after spending the better part of seven decades at Southside.  More than 140 years after William Moon started selling meat from his wagon, Southside Market is still around.  And somewhere in all that history is the wonderful image of Bud Frazier walking into work Thursday morning and wondering:  “All right. Who do I work for today?”  The Texan Edge Hosted by Tweed Scott  Thanks for spending a little of life's most precious commodity with us—your time.  We'll see you next time, right here on the porch at The Texan Edge.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  5. Oct 20

    Staying Put

    Send us Fan Mail   Description When Enid Justin's brothers moved the family boot company from Nocona to Fort Worth in 1925, Enid made a different decision. She stayed. With $5,000 in borrowed money, no established customer base, and plenty of people who doubted a woman belonged in the cowboy boot business, Miss Enid started the Nocona Boot Company. She became its first traveling salesman, did whatever job needed doing, and kept the doors open long enough for opportunity to find her. This is the story of a Texas woman, a boot company, and the decision to plant your feet and say, "I'm staying."  Show Notes Enid Justin grew up making cowboy boots. Her father, Herman Joseph "Daddy Joe" Justin, was already a Texas bootmaker, and Enid was stitching boots by the time she was twelve. After getting suspended from high school for dancing on a Sunday, she decided she'd rather work in her father's boot shop. That turned out to be quite a decision. After Daddy Joe's death, Enid's brothers eventually decided to move Justin Boots from Nocona to Fort Worth. There were sound business reasons for going. Enid wasn't going. In 1925, she borrowed $5,000 and founded the Nocona Boot Company. Success didn't come easily. Some cowboys didn't want to buy boots made by a woman. Enid traveled the road selling them herself. When money was tight, she worked as shipping clerk, stenographer and credit manager. She even turned her home into a rooming house. Then oil was discovered near Nocona. Oil-field workers needed tough work boots, and Enid knew how to make them. Nocona Boots eventually became one of America's five largest boot manufacturers. And in 1981, after 56 years, Nocona Boot Company was sold to Justin Industries—bringing the two branches of the Justin family's bootmaking business back together. Tweed also shares a small connection to the story: years ago, he owned a pair of Nocona boots himself. Enid Justin's story isn't simply about making cowboy boots. It's about knowing when to move—and knowing when to plant your boots firmly on Texas ground and say: "I'm staying." The Texan Edge Hosted by Tweed Scott If you enjoyed Miss Enid's story, tell somebody about The Texan Edge. We'd love to have them here too.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  6. Oct 15

    Well, THAT Didn't Work

    Send us Fan Mail  Description Before Gail Borden became the name behind condensed milk, he failed. And failed again. There was a wagon designed to travel on both land and water. Then came a meat biscuit that won international recognition but nearly broke him. Even his first two attempts at producing condensed milk ended in failure. But Borden kept asking one question: HOW? In this episode of The Texan Edge, Tweed Scott tells the story of a man who discovered that failure isn't necessarily the end of the road. Sometimes it's information. Sometimes it's an opportunity. And sometimes you just have to dust yourself off and try another way. Because one failed HOW doesn't necessarily mean NO.  Show Notes Gail Borden is remembered for condensed milk, but getting there was anything but a straight line. After coming to Texas in 1829, Borden became a surveyor, helped produce an early map of Texas, worked with the Telegraph and Texas Register, and helped lay out the site of Houston. Then he started inventing. His "terraqueous machine" was supposed to travel on both land and water. It didn't work particularly well on either. His next big idea, the meat biscuit, looked much more promising. Scientific American praised it, and it even won a medal at London's Great Exhibition in 1851. But commercial success never followed, and Borden ended up deeply in debt. Then he turned his attention to preserving milk. Borden patented a process for condensing milk, but his first factory failed. So did his second. He tried again. This time it worked. Gail Borden's story illustrates an idea Tweed has believed for years: Texans tend to be HOW thinkers. Failure doesn't always mean NO. Failure can be information, and failure can be an opportunity. Sometimes the first way simply wasn't the right way. In this episode: • Gail Borden's early years in Texas • The strange land-and-water "terraqueous machine" • The rise and fall of the meat biscuit • Borden's experiments with condensed milk • Two failed factories before success • Why the Civil War changed Borden's fortunes • Failure as information and opportunity • The Texas habit of asking HOW instead of IF The Texan Edge isn't just about Texas history. It's about the Texas way of seeing things. If you enjoyed this episode, share it with somebody who could use a reminder that "Well, THAT didn't work" doesn't have to be the end of the story. The Texan Edge Hosted by Tweed Scott  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  7. Oct 13

    Texas Being Texas

    Send us Fan Mail   Description Just when you think you've got Texas figured out, she has a way of tapping you on the shoulder and saying, “Not so fast.” This time, Tweed wanders through a collection of strange-but-true pieces of Texas history: a Texas Navy captain planting the Lone Star on islands off Yucatán, a Lone Star coin that predates the Republic, blue ribbons cut from a little girl's brand-new dress at the Pecos rodeo, World War II pilots searching for the mysterious Marfa Lights, and a Texas lake that isn't quite what we've always been told. Then there are all those things Texas has decided need to be official. It's six minutes or so of Texas history without the history lesson. Sometimes there's no grand explanation needed. It's just Texas being Texas.  Show Notes Just about the time Tweed thinks he knows Texas pretty well, something comes along to prove otherwise. In this episode of The Texan Edge, we're wandering through some verified pieces of Texas history that are simply too good not to share. The Texas Navy once raised the Lone Star over islands off Yucatán and claimed them for the Republic. Texas became an independent nation without ever minting its own coins — although José Antonio de la Garza had produced a coin bearing a single star in San Antonio years before independence. At the 1883 Pecos rodeo, the winners needed prizes, so blue ribbons were cut from the brand-new dress of a four-year-old girl in the crowd. During World War II, military pilots tried to solve the mystery of the Marfa Lights from the air. They didn't have any better luck than the rest of us. And that old claim about Caddo Lake being the only natural lake in Texas? Well...it's a little more complicated than that. Then we get to the remarkable collection of things Texas has made official — from tortilla chips and salsa to cowboy boots, the chuck wagon, 42, the jalapeño, and even #Texas. But among all those official Texas things is one particularly simple designation: Our state motto. Friendship. Because just about the time you think you've got Texas figured out, she gives you another reason to get acquainted. The Texan Edge — Texas history isn't the destination. It's the vehicle.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

  8. Oct 8

    Texas Before Texas

    Send us Fan Mail   Description  Long before the Alamo, Sam Houston, Spanish missions—or even a place called Texas—people were building communities in East Texas.  Near Alto, three ancient Caddo mounds still stand as evidence of a sophisticated world of farming, ceremony, leadership, and trade that reached hundreds of miles across North America.  Tweed Scott takes us back more than 1,200 years to a chapter of Texas history he admits he knew almost nothing about—until his late wife introduced him to it.  And the story leads to an intriguing question: How far back does the story of Texas really begin?  Show Notes  The Texas story didn't begin in 1836.  In this episode of The Texan Edge, Tweed travels back more than 1,200 years to the Caddo Mounds of East Texas, near present-day Alto.  The people who lived there built large ceremonial and burial mounds by hand, developed thriving agricultural communities, and participated in trade networks stretching hundreds of miles across North America.  We explore what archaeologists have learned about this important Caddo center, why its prominence eventually declined, and how the Caddo people continued to live in East Texas for centuries afterward.  There's also the remarkable story behind the name Texas itself and its connection to a Caddo word associated with friendship and alliance.  Then the story jumps forward to 2019, when a devastating tornado struck the Caddo Mounds Historic Site during Caddo Culture Day, destroying the visitor center and traditional grass house and taking one life. The site rebuilt and reopened in 2024, with Caddo people helping tell the story of their ancestors today.  For Tweed, this one is personal. His late wife knew about these three mounds when he didn't—and what she showed him changed the way he thinks about where the Texas story begins.  The Texan Edge — Texas history isn't the destination. It's the vehicle.  This isn't just a podcast, it's a Texas state of mind.

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About

  The Texan Edge Texas has never been short on stories. Some belong to famous names. Others belong to people you've probably never heard of. Some changed Texas forever, while others simply tell us something about the people who lived here and the place Texas became. I'm Tweed Scott, and on The Texan Edge, I tell those stories. We'll wander through Texas history, meet remarkable people, uncover stories that have been overlooked, and occasionally stop for something that's just plain fun. But history isn't really the destination. It's the vehicle. Because somewhere inside these old Texas stories, there's usually something worth carrying with us—a little courage, ingenuity, determination, humor, or maybe just a different way of looking at the world. You don't have to be born in Texas to understand that. You just need a little Texas state of mind. The Texan Edge — not just a podcast, but a Texas state of mind. 

Information

  • Creator
    Tweed Scott
  • Years Active
    2025 - 2026
  • Episodes
    260
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © 2026 Texan Edge
  • Show Website
    Texan Edge