Dig This

The estate included a home at 3505 Griffin, in the same neighborhood that later became the Reservation. Howard, along with the rest of the city's prostitutes, had moved to the Reservation after the city designated it a red-light district. But unlike most of the prostitutes, who were evicted in 1913 when the city shut down the Reservation, Howard stayed behind.

Apparently, Howard continued to entertain until her death. Shortly before she died, she had invested in a Wurlitzer piano--a coin-operated amusement that was common in saloons and bordellos. She also had $2,200 in diamonds and jewelry.

"You know what precious stones were back then? Stolen goods, which she pawned," Troup says. "The Wurlitzer. The diamonds. She was a known criminal."

Howard was 61 years old when she died, and she went out with a bang. At her funeral, five six-passenger cars escorted Howard to her grave. In those days, at the dawn of the automobile age, hiring funeral cars was a big to-do, Troup says.

If he had the money, Troup says, he'd start a new investigation into Howard's sole survivor, Lena Howard, who unsuccessfully tried to claim the rights to her mother's estate. If he were lucky, he might be able to find a living relative. But Troup says he's broke and at the end of the trail.

He will, however, keep looking for more evidence to bolster his butt rock theory. To Troup, the butt rocks aren't just a fantastic notion about late-19th-century American toiletries: They are a symbol of the city's primitive roots, the physical incarnation of Dallas' soul--it's can do spirit.

"The butt rock," Troup explains, "is a symbol of how you came up from the earth. You try to do something more than just sit there and say, "I've got crap all over my ass.'"