Child Pranksters Are Robertson County's (TX) "Boogers"

In her 1982 book, The National Hotel, author Ruth Rucker Lemming offers an entirely different explanation concerning the origin of the nickname.  This information was recorded on her tape recorder several years earlier by her brother, Robert Lee Rucker.  It is as follows:

    "Sitting here in my wheelchair in the Veteran's Hospital in Bonham, Texas, I contemplate on how Booger County got its name.  It's a well known fact that old Robertson County, Texas, is known far and wide as "Booger County."  Why just a few years ago there were so many families from Robertson County living on one street in the metropolis of Houston that they put up signs in their yards reading "Booger County Avenue."

    "There was never but two men who knew the whole story of the renowned moniker of Robertson County; they were Ben Myatt and R. L. Rucker.  Ben started the whole shootin' match being aided and abetted by myself."

    "A little past the turn of the century, Ben was living out of Bremond where I went one summer to assist him with some dog training.  While we were shootin' the breeze one night, he observed that 'tha time was ripe for a Booger scare.'  So, he set about making a Dumb Bull.  A Dumb Bull is a man-made voice of a Booger, which Ben considered essential.  I tried to do exactly like Ben.  After some searching, I found a small hollow juniper tree, cut off about a three-foot length and stretched over it, drum-like, a piece of fresh or green cowhide.  To make sure it was tight, I fastened it with a solid row of tacks.  After it had completely dried, then I made a small hole in the center of the hide and ran a cord about half the size of a writin' pencil through the hole, down the hollow, and extendin' about two feet more.  On the string was tied a small, strong stick to keep it from pullin' through the cowhide.  Then, I worked a heavy coat of rosin into the string.  Ben called the contrivance his lion and when he would hold the string tight with one hand and grip the cord in the other hand, the resultant sawing noise - shrill and coarse - would sound like a real Booger.  With a little practice on the string and the stick and the cord, I could produce a sonorous roar that would make the Ringling Brothers' lion sound like a pussy cat."

    "The fear generated by the offensive sound soon spread among the inhabitants - people, and livestock.  On one occasion, an old Polander was driving a gentle old horse hitched to a single buggy.  He thought he heard a noise, which he did.  My lion just murmured a light 'meow;' the driver stopped his horse.  Then, the lion belted out a pretty good bellow and the gentle old horse gave one powerful lunge forward and broke the shafts loose from the buggy, took off for the tail and undercut, and was not seen for a week."

    "Occasionally, during the next several years, I would resurrect the Booger.  Once a little old crazy locoed mule fell into a ravine about ten feet deep and killed itself.  So, via the pocket knife, I made a few jabs in one shoulder where the Booger had held on with his claws and cut the mule's throat with his claws on the other foot.  This convinced the country boys that the Booger had caught and killed him for sure.  The Booger did not eat any flesh - just drank the mule's blood and left."

    "It was this last touch which proved too much.  The people in the neighborhood were literally scared to death.  Their children had to walk to school down country roads, so dozens of families kept their kids at home or else moved out, lock, stock, and barrel."

    "I could plainly see the handwritin' on the wall.  The Booger had to go.  Now, he remains in name only.  When you get a thing like that rollin', there's just no place to stop halfway; it keeps getting bigger and bigger 'til quittin' is the only way out.  I hung the Dumb Bull forever on a nail behind the door, reluctantly cut the old lion's throat, and buried him - facin' [leaning slightly as the gun had leaned fifty years before] East."

Browsing the internet, I heard a recording that was of a supposed Sasquatch. I remember thinking at the time that it sounded awfully familiar. I just realized where I heard the sound before. There used to be a column in Yankee magazine where folks would send in pictures of things that they bought at a yardsale or wherever and they werent sure what they are. Years ago I remember reading about one thing that someone sent a picture of. It was a large coffee can with a piece of waxed string running thru the center of it, I think it was called a mooseblower. Being young and bored I made one up, and Ill be damned but I remember it sounded just like one of the recordings I heard. You make one of these up and mount it on a pole, when the wind blows thru the can it makes the string vibrate making this freaky moaning noise. Im not saying that this is the explanation for all the recordings that Im sure weve all heard, but its just a thought.