The Diploma

Among the prized possessions of Kevin McCright, of Manchaca, Texas, is the small diploma that signifies his graduation from Manchaca Elementary School.

McCright prizes the diploma not so much because it signifies success in school, but because it reminds him of a bygone time, the time before the Austin Independent School District changed the name of the school from Manchaca to
Menchaca.

The Name

It’s not just the spelling that is at issue here. It’s also the pronunciation. Locals in this small village pronounce Manchaca: MAN-shack. Menchaca, from the Spanish, is pronounced: main-SHOCK-ah.

That’s SHOCK, as in how the whole town was shocked 30 some-odd years ago, when the school district, in an effort to be true to history, made its name-changing move.

“People,” McCright said, ‘were unhappy that their namesake school that they went to was changed, and the general feeling was why weren’t we consulted?

“We could have shared a whole lot of information with you and there’s another side to the story.”

The Petition

Fast forward to 2012. A retired Texas State District Judge from Austin is circulating
a petition on Facebook, asking the Austin City Council to change the name of Manchaca Road inside the city limits to Menchaca Road.

The street, which connects Austin with Manchaca, was originally named for the unincorporated village. The village, in turn, was named for a nearby spring. Everyone agrees with those points. That, however, is where the agreement ends.

“We’re trying to get them to correct the historical error that’s been made,” said Perkins. “That’s what we’re trying to do.”

The History

The judge, who grew up in the Texas Rio Grande Valley and spoke Spanish before he spoke English, says the spring was originally named by Anglo settlers in honor of
Jose Antonio Menchaca.

Menchaca was a hero of the Texas Revolution who later led a squad of soldiers protecting settlers from Comanche Indian attacks. He and his troops often camped at the strategic spring.

“He camped there; they named the springs for him. That’s clear,” said Perkins.

The Book

For proof, he points to page 103 in “Tales from the Manchaca Hills,” a book published in 1960 and written by Edna Turly Carpenter, a descendant of those early settlers.

The book proclaims: “The…Railroad had given the incipient community its name…because of the nearness of Manchaca Springs, which in turn derived their name from Colonel Jose Antonio Menchaca.”

The author goes on to bemoan what she calls the “empty tribute” of the name, because of the misspelling and because people also came to mispronounce the word as “Man-shack.”

But McCright is unconvinced.

“She doesn’t say, ‘There was a proclamation. We had a meeting on the lawn and he was honored and we said: Here’s a key to the city. We’re going to name it after you.’

“She just makes a reference.”

The Yearbook

But Perkins has another weapon in his arsenal: A school yearbook from 1936. According to his research, outlying schools around Austin couldn’t afford a yearbook. So they banded together and produced “The Defender,” a single volume covering places like Pflugerville, Hornsby, Manor and Manchaca.

Part of the deal required each school to include a history of its town and how it got its name.

The entry for Manchaca read: “The officer in charge…was Colonel Manchaca. So the spring became known as Manchaca Springs. Years later…the village…also was named for the old, honored, and well liked Colonel Manchaca.”

“I never disputed that Jose was well-liked,” said McCright, ‘and he was a player in Sam Houston’s army and an honorable man and deserves recognition. But we could have honored Jose without dishonoring the community.”

The Trend

What worries the man most is what he sees as a trend. First the school district changes the name of the school. Now the city is asked to change the name of the street. Might not the name of the village, itself, be next?

“Did you see the movie, ‘Back to the Future,’” asks McCright, “when the guy’s looking at the photograph and his picture starts to erase and evaporate? That’s what’s happening,” he says, his voice breaking.

“The way that those people pronounce it and spell it out there, that’s their business,” Perkins fired back. “You know, I can’t control that; I’m not attempting to control that. That’s, that’s their business.”

The Rat

McCright smells a rat.

“What he meant was, ‘Eventually, you stupid people will start to pronounce it right and we will have won and it will be Menchaca,” he said.

The man is not alone in this.

“They look down on those of us who say it the way the locals have said it for over 100 years and I don’t really appreciate that,” said Alan Galbreath, another Manchaca area resident.

“I don’t think they should come in on their high horse and look down on us like we’re yokels.

“They want to pronounce things correctly in their mind, in the Spanish. And they’re trying to give credence to it, which is fine,” Galbreath added.

“If someone says, ‘Menchaca,’ I’m not going to throw a fit. Say it however you want to say it, but don’t try to mandate it by changing a sign name.”

Besides, he argues, there is a practical problem with all of this name-changing stuff.

“It’s not just changing street signs,” he said. “It’s changing addresses, legal business names. It’s changing the post office name. It’s changing surveys and maps.

“It’s going to be really expensive and a big hassle to all the residents. I don’t think it’s worth it. We can honor him in so many other ways.”

The Emotion

For McCright, though, practicality is beside the point. For him, it’s emotional, deeply emotional.

“Manchaca is and has been a part of Texas history for going on 131 years,” he said. “We don’t need to erase that because somebody’s name was misspelled.

“After 131 years of being Manchaca, what’s the urgency for changing our name?”

Imagining Perkins standing before him, his curiosity deepens: “You don’t live here; you have no standing, Why is this a big issue for you? That’s my question.”

The judge has a ready answer, culled from the writings of McCright’s own ancestors.

“Those people, when they named the springs, they thought they were spelling it correctly,” he said. “That’s exactly what they thought. They thought they were honoring the guy.”

The Verdict

The judge’s verdict: If the settlers were unclear about the spelling, we should not be.

“If you’re going to honor someone, shouldn’t you at least spell his name right?” he asked.

Perkins is determined to take the issue to the city council as soon as he gets 1000 signatures on his petition.

The Fight

McCright promises he will be there, too.

In the old days, the Spanish, the settlers and the Indians fought often over the coveted high-ground spring, a spring that would come to bear a name remarkably similar to the commander of a band of Tejano soldiers who helped subdue the Comanches.

A village and a street later, people still struggle to get along.