In the early 1950s, the culture of Cut and Shoot yet waxed with echoes of excitement stemming from battles between local citizens and the sometimes hardened workers in the George Strake inspired great oil field of the 1930s. This set the scene for the rise of the Harris clan which sired the late Roy Harris. Roy rose to fight to a disputed twelve round TKO loss to Floyd Patterson in 1958, with the world heavyweight boxing title on the line. Extracted here is a true story featuring Roy’s older brother, Tobe, who, as a teenager, single-handedly landed a 14-foot, three-inch alligator, who spent its final days in a small pond in the Harris front yard.
Working with Roy’s dad, “Big” Henry, this writer’s dad, J.T. Montgomery, started a boxing program in Conroe, leading to the development of Roy. Two of my previous books dwell on the Harrises and the Cut and Shoot story. Let’s now experience Roy’s take on events leading to Tobe’s capture of the great alligator.
The initial scene was Crew’s Lake, as Roy describes it, “a natural lake near the San Jacinto River south of Cut and Shoot.” On the night that Tobe caught the “gator,” Roy and his dad had left him there by himself. Roy described Tobe as alone in a flat-bottomed boat in the lake. With moon light and a carbide light, Tobe could discern the eyes of several gators. Tobe was looking for the one with eyes widest apart depicting the lake’s largest reptile. On spotting the creature, Tobe waited for it to charge, at which point he dropped a noose about its neck.
So disposed, the gator swam back to its home, a hole in the bank of the lake, pulling Tobe at a dangerous speed. Once the gator reached its den, Tobe secured the rope to a button willow tree keeping the slack out of it as the gator would charge. Hence passed the night.
The next morning, Roy and his dad maneuvered their pickup truck to the area. After a few tries, they were able to tie the rope to the pickup. However, difficult it was to haul the creature in as it would link its tail around any tree or palmetto. Henry would back up about three or four feet and gun the engine to jerk the gator loose. Then soon the process would repeat itself, as the gator would attach to a tree, stopping the truck.
At length the task found completion and the gator met its new home in the Harris family pond. Tobe made numerous calls to zoos and so forth, learning that this was probably the largest gator in captivity at the time.
A personal note: During this era, Roy’s younger brother, “little Henry” himself a state champion boxer and my great friend, invited me to accompany him into the pond to see his own new gator. I “politely” chose to stay safely on the bank to witness him venture into the pond, unable to see the bottom, and bring to the bank on a chain a “mere” seven-foot gator to show me.
Exciting were the days of Cut and Shoot in the 1950s.
Robin Montgomery is a native of Montgomery County, an author, historian, former professor and columnist for The Courier.
