Shoot-out on Jones Street
Dimmitt, Castro County, Texas
Marker Inscription
At an 1891 meeting to discuss the selection of a Castro County seat, words were exchanged between Ira Aten, a retired Texas Ranger speaking on behalf of Castro City, and Andrew McClelland, a spokesman for Dimmitt. The inflammatory remarks led to a gunfight between the two men on Dec. 23, five days after Dimmitt was chosen county seat. In an exchange of shots in the middle of Jones Street, Aten wounded Andrew McClelland and his brother Hugh. Aten was acquitted of the assault charges and a short time later was appointed Castro County sheriff. (1983)
Erected by Texas Historical Commission
The Story
The choice of a county seat was serious business on the Texas Panhandle frontier, serious enough to draw blood. At an 1891 meeting, heated words passed between Ira Aten, a retired Texas Ranger backing rival Castro City, and Andrew McClelland, spokesman for Dimmitt. Days after Dimmitt won the vote, the two shot it out in the middle of Jones Street; Aten wounded both McClelland and his brother, was acquitted, and was soon appointed county sheriff.
Why it matters
County-seat wars were a real and sometimes deadly feature of settling the American West, where a town's survival could hinge on the courthouse it captured.
The story behind this marker
AI contextThe era
In 1891 the Texas Panhandle was still being stitched together out of open range. Large cattle outfits had held the high, flat country of the Llano Estacado for years, but farmers, town promoters and land agents were arriving fast, and the state was carving the region into counties that existed on maps long before they had governments. Castro County was one of them, a square of grassland waiting for voters to give it a seat of government.
On the frontier, the choice of county seat was no formality. The winning town got the courthouse, the county records, the lawyers and the trade that followed, and very often the railroad's attention as well. The losing town often simply faded away. Rival settlements a few miles apart might put everything they had into that one election.
This was also the end of the era of the Texas Rangers as frontier fighters. The Indian wars on the Plains were over, and Rangers had become something closer to a state police force, sent into feuds, fence-cutting disputes and lawless boomtowns. Men who had served in that hard school were now settling down in new counties like Castro, carrying their reputations with them.
People & events
Two towns wanted the courthouse: Castro City and Dimmitt. Each had a man to speak for it. Castro City's champion was Ira Aten, a retired Texas Ranger whose name carried weight anywhere in the state. Dimmitt's spokesman was Andrew McClelland. At an 1891 meeting called to settle the county-seat question, the two exchanged words, and the words were hot enough that neither man let them go.
The election went Dimmitt's way. That might have ended things, but grudges on the frontier did not always cool with a ballot count. On December 23, five days after Dimmitt was named county seat, Aten and McClelland met again, this time in the middle of Jones Street, and this time with guns. When the shooting stopped, Aten had wounded Andrew McClelland and his brother Hugh as well.
What happened next says a great deal about the time and place. Aten was charged with assault and acquitted. Then, a short time later, the man who had stood up for the losing town and shot two of the winning town's men was appointed sheriff of Castro County. A new county needed someone who could keep order, and a veteran Ranger was hard to pass over, whatever had happened on Jones Street.
Its place in the American story
Across the American West, from Kansas to Colorado to Texas, "county seat wars" were a real chapter of settlement history. Towns stuffed ballot boxes, hired gunmen, and in some places even carried the county records away by night to claim the courthouse. The dispute in Castro County belongs to that larger story: settlement was not only a matter of plows and fences but of fierce competition among towns that knew only some of them would survive.
The shoot-out also shows the uneasy shift from frontier violence to settled government. The same men who drew guns over a civic dispute were the ones who soon wore the badges and staffed the courthouses. Law and order in the West was often built by people who knew violence firsthand.
That Dimmitt is still Castro County's seat today, while many of its old rivals are now just names in local histories, is a reminder of how much was at stake in elections like the one in 1891.
If you visit
Dimmitt sits in the open, flat country of the Texas Panhandle, where the sky takes up most of the view and the farm roads run straight to the horizon. Stand on Jones Street and imagine it as a raw, new town street, with a handful of buildings and a crowd that knew exactly why two men were walking toward each other days before Christmas.
While you are in town, look at the Castro County courthouse. It is the prize the whole quarrel was about, and the reason Dimmitt is still here. Walking from the marker to the courthouse square is a good way to understand what the town won.
Dimmitt is an easy stop on a Panhandle road trip between Amarillo and Lubbock, and it pairs well with other High Plains sites about ranching, the Rangers and the founding of counties. Bring the family, read the marker together, and ask the kids which town they would have voted for.
Written by AI to add context, grounded in the marker’s inscription and the historical record. The inscription above is the original, unaltered text.
Own a business near here? Add it to the map.
Related people
- · Ira Aten
- · Andrew McClelland
Themes & tags
Nearby & related markers
Castro County Courthouses
Dimmitt, TX
When Castro County was organized in 1891, the town of Dimmitt set aside this square and held court in a private office until its first courthouse rose. That ornate wooden building burned after a lightning strike in 1906, a domed brick successor served into the 1930s, and the present stone courthouse was raised in 1939 with Works Progress Administration labor.
Gilbreath-Cowsert House
Dimmitt, TX
Tennessee native and local merchant Jeff T. Gilbreath brought his family to the newly settled Castro County in 1905 and built this house in 1909, soon selling it to county attorney Mark Cowsert. A fine example of early 20th-century vernacular architecture with its bay window and hipped, gabled roof, the house was preserved when the Castro County Museum acquired it in 1976.
Castro County
Dimmitt, TX
Carved from earlier territories and formally organized in 1891, Castro County honors Henri Castro (1786–1861), a French-born empresario who colonized the Texas Hill Country. Castro founded Castroville, Quihi, Vandenburg, and D'Hanis in Medina County, recruiting European settlers — many Alsatian — to a raw frontier. Dimmitt serves as the county seat on the High Plains far to the north of the towns that bear his mark.
Summerfield-Dameron Corner
Dimmitt, TX
In 1876 the English-born surveyor John Summerfield began mapping millions of acres across the Texas Panhandle, raising earth monuments to anchor his work. One such marker near this spot became a starting point for surveys spanning several counties and later gained the name Dameron's Corner after a nearby landowner. Citizens set a concrete monument here in 1925, though a road cut buried it in 1958.