Perhaps through a combination of sheer size and pioneer spirit, Texas, of all the states, seems to feature the highest concentration of truly absurd town names. About a year ago, I made a categorized list of some of the best, with food (Oatmeal), states of mind (Uncertain), concepts (Utopia), things (Telephone), names of other cities and countries (Scotland), phrases (Jot ’Em Down), and, most important, guns (Cut and Shoot) and guys (Tom Bean) as the main groupings.
Turns out, many of the towns in categories other than “guys” are also just named after guys. Other monikers reveal titillating mishmashes of truth and lore and hint at the nature of the formation of early settlements. And still others show how the stunningly dull bureaucratic machinations of state entities (i.e., the U.S. Postal Service) led to forced (or accidental) creativity in nomenclature.
On any Texas road trip longer than a couple of hours, you’re likely to run into at least one of these towns—or at least drive by the small green highway sign and few dilapidated structures that make up what’s left of one. Now you may regale your travel partners with a few fun facts about these places’ humble origins (and yes, that includes the origins of Humble, Texas).
Named After Events or Town Characteristics
Bug Tussle: Depending on whom you ask, Bug Tussle gets its name from either a fateful ice cream social beset by insects or the eternal ennui of small-town life, with residents so bored after picnics that they had nothing to do but watch tumblebugs (a nice euphemism for dung beetles) fighting. A third story has two townspeople arguing over the name and getting distracted by, well, bugs tussling. Apparently folks are always stealing Bug Tussle highway signs—we get it.
Cut and Shoot: Some disagreement about the local church—the design of a steeple, who would preach, or who owned what land—led to a threat of violence one day in 1912, when a young boy reportedly said, “I’m going to cut around the corner and shoot through the bushes in a minute!” Town members must’ve found the idea of a child with a gun decidedly poetic—thus this peculiar town name.
Frognot: We’ve got another case of dueling legends with Frognot: Explanation one is that some naughty boys brought frogs to school to frighten the girls and were told not to do that. Explanation two is that Frognot is a variation of Frognod—the dulcet tones of the frogs’ mating calls would help residents nod off to sleep at night.
Goober Hill: Peanuts were a key crop in this patch of East Texas, and a Southern term for the nut is, of course, “goober.”
Gun Barrel City: Not wanting to get too creative, those who named the town took inspiration from Gun Barrel Lane, which is supposedly as straight as, well, a gun barrel. The town’s motto is “We shoot straight with you,” and its unofficial mascot was once Yosemite Sam. Rumor has it that before the town was incorporated, it was a great place to drink during Prohibition and Bonnie and Clyde hung out there. In the aughts, a Gun Barrel City mayor, Randal Tye Thomas, resigned after being arrested for public intoxication. Hmm!
Happy: Continuing with on-the-nose mottoes, this Panhandle hamlet just south of Amarillo boasts that it is “The Town Without a Frown.” Its name is derived from a stream called Happy Draw, upon which some nineteenth-century cowboys in need of a cool drink stumbled.
Impact: The town’s mayor, an adman named Dallas Perkins, had a business called Impact. The town was the only wet municipality in dry Taylor County when it was incorporated, in 1960, which didn’t seem to make much of an impact on prospective residents—the population in 2020 was only 22.
Industry: The settlement’s founder, a German immigrant named Johann Friedrich Ernst, planted tobacco there, which led to the town’s industry: producing cigars.
Needmore: Evidently desperation was in the air as new Texas towns were settled: There were once at least three different places named Needmore, in Bailey, Delta, and Terry Counties. The one in Bailey County got its moniker because promoters of the town thought it “needed more” settlers. Advertising was so simple back then.
Noonday: A meeting for the community to decide on a name was held at the Baptist church at high noon. One imagines that by 12:01, the residents happily adjourned to more pressing tasks, muttering, “This could’ve been an email.”
Novice: The town was originally called Tyro, but the residents changed it to Novice, a reported dig at the local store’s owners, who were apparently huge amateurs and forever labeled as such.
Poetry: Once known as Turner’s Point, Poetry got its name in 1876, after a local merchant compared the land in spring to a poem. Like the contemporary poetry community, the North Texas town isn’t necessarily bustling—but likely full of some nice folks.
Point Blank: The name originated with Frenchwoman Florence Dissiway, who called the spot Blanc Point, later to become Point Blank. A cooler idea might’ve been “Thisaway,” but whatever.
Raisin: Rancher J. K. Reeves grew such good grapes there that when the local post office opened, in 1892, the town was named after the shriveled version of his special crop.
Ransom Canyon: Ransom Canyon comes from Cañon de Rescate—Canyon of Ransom—because Spanish and Anglo traders negotiated with the Comanche for the release of hostages there.
Whiteface: One of Texas’s more sinister-sounding appellations, “Whiteface” actually derives from rancher C. C. Slaughter’s Whiteface Camp and Whiteface Pasture, which were named according to his cows’ white faces. Phew!
Named After the Post Office Rejected the Original
Blessing: Rancher Jonathan Edwards Pierce was so grateful that a settlement was going to be established on his land that he tried to designate it “Thank God.” The U.S. Post Office Department (as today’s USPS was then known) wasn’t a huge fan of that, but it accepted Blessing.
Dime Box: The original name, Brown’s Mill, was too close to Brownsville for the postal service’s liking. A resident put forth “Dime Box,” which the postal people were probably into because it referred to the custom of leaving a dime in a box for the mail carrier. Self-serving!
Earth: The postal service had to double down on a lot of double names. As there was already a Fairlawn in Texas, a new moniker, Earth, was decided upon—though there are multiple stories about how, two about an intense sandstorm during the time of renaming (perhaps calling to mind the movement of the Earth?) and one in which the name “Good Earth” was shortened by the post office.
Flat: Originally dubbed Mesquite Flat because of the local terrain and vegetation, Flat was renamed after the postal department rejected, inexplicably, the “Mesquite” part. The townspeople should join forces with Earth and create the city of Flat Earth.
Jot ’Em Down: The name comes from a business in town, the Jot ’Em Down Gin Corporation, which was in turn named after something from a radio comedy program called Lum and Abner. Are you jotting all this down?
New Deal: After four rural schools consolidated and named their new district after Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Depression-era programs, the town of Monroe changed its name to New Deal as well.
Noodle: “Noodle” was reportedly a local term for “nothing,” and supposedly, that’s all the water you were gonna get from nearby Noodle Creek, after which this town is named. (Though apparently the creek still exists and is often running, making for a Wet Noodle . . . )
Pep: After “Ledwig” was rejected (not spirited enough!), characteristically peppy residents decided on a more fitting designation.
Tarzan: A store owner, Tant Lindsay, submitted a list of possible town names after the post office said “South Plains,” the community’s first name, wouldn’t work. Lindsay liked reading the Tarzan series of books, by Edgar Rice Burroughs, so his wife told him to add “Tarzan” as an option. The postal department chose it, and from then on the town bore the name of the king of the apes.
Telephone: Postal authorities were at it again, rejecting name after name, when store owner Pete Hindman submitted “Telephone”—his shop boasted the only telephone in the area, so it was only fitting.
Uncertain: Ah, to have one’s indecisiveness immortalized on maps and census records and official postal documents. According to lore, upon filling out the original application for township, residents were still unsure of what they might call their home, writing “Uncertain” in the name field—and government workers are nothing if not literal. They were certain the town was Uncertain. But it’s also said that the site’s name comes from “Uncertain Landing,” since steamboat captains once had a hard time mooring there. Either way, how can any of us be sure about anything?
Utopia: This place was originally called Montana but had to be renamed due to another town in Texas called Montana. Texas Monthly‘s very own Rose Cahalan saw on a historical plaque in Utopia that postmaster George Barker “chose the name to praise what he considered to be the region’s perfect weather.”
Wink: Wink was originally named “Nudge”—just kidding; it was called Winkler. Snooze. There was another Texas Winkler in contention, so citizens shortened the name to the much cuter “Wink” in order to get a post office. Adorably, a high school–aged Roy Orbison started a band there called the Wink Westerners.
Named After Guys
Bacon: Bacon gets its name from Wichita Falls’ first mayor, Otis T. Bacon.
Bigfoot: At six two and 240 pounds, William A. A. “Bigfoot” Wallace had a size so legendary at the time that someone had to name a town after it.
Borger: Borger was named for A. P. “Ace” Borger, a talented town promoter. It was eventually nicknamed “Booger Town” because of all the criminals and fugitives who congregated there—a fact that eventually led then-governor Daniel Moody to impose martial law.
Chalk: The town was called Richards Colony (after the land’s owner) and Dutch Colony before being named in honor of James M. Chalk, who was the first postmaster.
Deport: Ironically nowhere near the Texas-Mexico border, Deport was founded by Colonel Dee Thompson, and once it established a post office, it was named in honor of Thompson, who’d used it as a water source for his horses—hence “Dee Port.” It may be a stretch to call a creek a port, but who are we to make judgments nearly 150 years later?
Ding Dong: Founders Zulis and Bert Bell hired an artist to make a sign for their store, on which the man painted two bells labeled with their names and wrote “Ding” and “Dong” under the bells, thus setting the place up to be included on every “weird town names” list until the end of time.
Edcouch: For such a unique name, the story is dismayingly dull: the town, developed in 1927, honors landowner and banker Edward Couch.
Floydada: Several explanations for this somewhat avant-garde moniker exist. First, that it was supposed to be Floydalia but was communicated to Washington on a bad transmission. Second, that it was an amalgam of the county name (Floyd) and donor James Price’s mom, Ada. Or could it be the same portmanteau but named after Price’s wife Caroline’s parents, Floyd and Ada? We’ll be losing sleep over this one!
Gary: Like many towns, Gary was settled when a railroad was built through the land. One of the men who established the townsite, S. Smith Garrison, named the town after his grandson Gary Sanford.
Heckville: This unincorporated community was named after Henry Heck, who built a cotton gin there around 1948.
Humble: If the founder of this town, a San Jacinto River ferry operator named Pleasant S. Humble, wasn’t the nicest man alive, we’ll eat our hats.
Iraan: Perhaps one of the more talked-about town names in Texas, “Iraan” is not a reference to Iran, the country. Instead, it’s an amalgam of “Ira” and “Ann” Yates, the owners of a nearby ranch where oil was discovered.
Kermit: No little green puppets here. Kermit is named for the son of then-recent president Theodore Roosevelt. Apparently he’d gone hunting in the area before the town was established, and that was enough for the citizens to dub it after him. There is a Kermit the Frog Boulevard, though, and the energetic Muppet once started his “world tour” there.
Oatmeal: This town was founded by German families, and its name is said to be a version of the last name Othneil (the first gristmill owner) or a translation of the name Habermill (“Haber” being a German dialect word for “oats”). Regardless, the town has celebrated an Oatmeal Festival since 1978, on the Friday and Saturday before Labor Day.
Pancake: Sadly, no breakfast food was involved in the christening of this town, which was named after the first postmaster, John R. Pancake.
Scotland: One might be surprised that this was a German Catholic farming community. It was named after the landowner, Henry J. Scott.
Scurry: Residents submitted the name “Scurry” to honor Scurry Dean, who had died in the Civil War.
Skellytown: Contrary to popular belief (okay, just us), this is not a Tim Burton–esque town—instead, it’s named after the Skelly Oil Company, founded by William Grove Skelly. The company owned hundreds of acres in the area.
Smiley: We’ve got another guy named John with a cool last name! This time it’s trader and sheepherder John Smiley.
Tom Bean: Thomas C. Bean, an eccentric surveyor, donated the land upon which his eponymous town was built. One of the few town monikers that uses both first and last name—we appreciate the originality.
Zipperlandville: The town was sometimes called Zipperlen or Zipperlenville, as it was named after the Zipperlen family, whose descendants still live in the county. Regardless, the post office declared it Zipperlandville, perhaps because of a garbled transmission.
