By Marie Hughes, Chambers County Museum at Wallisville
Talk to Richie Coulon Devillier, of Winnie, Texas, for any length of time and you will quickly discover there is nothing more important to him than his family and how they have been instrumental in defining the man he is today. Grandson of Edward Coulon Devillier and cousin of Jerry Coulon Devillier, his roots tightly embrace the character and legacy of the Devillier family.
“I was born in ’63,” said Richie. “I was the youngest of four children with older sisters, Kaye, Chris, and Michelle. I grew up in the house my parents built right by the interstate, across from the airport in Winnie. My parents built that home right before I was born, and it is the one I came home to from the hospital. It was built on the farm and ranch my dad grew up on, the one my grandfather, Edward Coulon Devillier, and great-grandfather, Pierre Olide Coulon Devillier, bought and farmed and ranched over the years.”
Richie continued, “Stevie’s home is west of Oak Island Road, and Grandpa’s, for the most part, was east of Oak Island Road. Grandpa also owned the section Culley owns now; we called it Double Bridges Section, which was three miles up Oak Island Road and bordered FM 1663. Grandpa’s land went from FM 1406 to a mile east of FM 1410. He had some smaller lots and blocks in town, some rental property, but the farm and ranch is mostly where we lived.”
“My grandparents, Edward and Helen, lived in the house where my wife and I now live. My Aunt Lydia inherited the house and five acres when my grandparents died, and she agreed to sell it to us in 1994, after we had leased it for a year. We’ve lived there ever since; the house was actually built the year I was born in 1963,” Richie shared, reflecting on his family home.
He went on to describe the family history, “The original home my dad and his siblings grew up in was a frame home on the same five acres. In the ‘50s, my grandparents retired from farming and ranching and purchased 450 acres in Ingram, Texas. My Uncle Louis’ 1100-acre hunting ranch was nearby. My grandparents built a beautiful home there, and my dad took over the farming and ranching and moved into the house my grandparents vacated when they moved to the Hill Country. After a few years, my grandparents just couldn’t stand being away from family, so Grandpa asked Dad, ‘Can we come back home?’” said Richie, laughing.
“So, they worked out a deal, and if I remember correctly, Grandpa loaned Dad the money to build a home over by the interstate, and my grandparents moved back into their old home. They then proceeded to build the home that Wendy and I live in now, using rock brought from their ranch in Ingram,” Richie explained, detailing the transition. “One of their neighbors, Mr. Beavers, was a stone mason, and they hired him to bring a crew down here and haul the rock from Ingram to build the house where we live now. The original frame house was moved into Winnie.”
Richie’s story continued with more about his grandparents’ ventures, “My grandparents also built a home in Afton, Wyoming, which is about 50 miles south of Jackson Hole. Grandpa and Grandma both were avid hunters and fishers; in fact, sometimes Grandma would outdo Grandpa,” said Richie with a chuckle. “They loved to travel, loved the outdoors, and hunting and fishing. When the first Suburban came out, they bought one and drove to Alaska for a hunting and fishing trip. There was no highway back then, just a gravel road mostly following the pipeline they were building.”
Big Family ~ Fond Memories
“When I was growing up, my first memories are of a big family. We had a big extended family in the area, mostly all in agriculture. There were lots of children, so lots of unpaid labor, but we got free room and board, so we got something out of the deal,” laughed Richie. “It was a great way to grow up.”
Richie continued, describing the community spirit.
“During harvest, we would all get together and help each other harvest the crops, going from farm to farm as the crops matured. There might be 13-14 different combines out there and a bunch of us rug rats running around on the grain carts and rice trucks, but to us kids, it was like a party. This went on for a lot of years, but as we got older, technology started changing. The harvesting equipment got a lot bigger and more efficient, so it didn’t take as much equipment to harvest 300-400 acres. So, the tradition of the families working together kind of came to an end, and that is one thing that I lament. My children didn’t get that experience; I wouldn’t trade that way of life for the world. There might be a better way, but I haven’t seen it,” said Richie fondly.
Reflecting on the changes in agriculture, Richie noted, “Growing up in my generation, there were so many more people involved in agriculture because it took more people. Now, technology is changing every day and becoming more efficient, and the genetics of crops and fertilizers help us to do a lot more with a lot less labor, a lot less equipment, and a lot less footprint. The yields have gone up, so we are able to produce a lot more on less acreage. There aren’t that many people farming anymore, and with each generation, we get further and further away from that lifestyle. Whether good or bad, I happen to think it’s bad, but regardless of your opinion, it is different, and it makes the world different.”
Richie’s tone grew somber as he reflected on the broader impact.
“In my opinion, the family unit is not strong like it used to be, and that is the root of a lot of the problems in this world. That unit is not lauded and it’s not desired. Progress happens and you’re not going to stop it; things change. The American dream is not what it used to be,” Richie said sadly. “I don’t think it’s a good thing. Our family structure has changed in such a way that it’s really done a lot of damage. I hope we can get back to some of the values that were instilled in our generations growing up.”
The Devillier Dryer Days
“I believe it was in the early ’40s when the original Devillier rice dryers were built by my grandpa and his brothers,” Richie began.
They saw a need for better storage as they increased their farming acreage, so they built the rice dryers, adding a seed house and a feed store at one point.
“My dad operated the feed store out of one of the storage buildings at the rice dryers. They started out with one commercial-type drying unit, which was unique to this area. The Jenkins Dryer was built pretty much at the same time and used the same technology. I cannot vouch for the accuracy of which was first; that was before my time,” chuckled Richie.
He described the remarkable structure in vivid detail.
“It was such a unique building because it was so big, just a huge sprawling structure that sat alongside the railroad tracks that came through Winnie and also went to Galveston. Just south on the same street was M&J Fertilizer. As additions were made to both structures through the years, they ended up being so close they almost looked like they were one long building. The dryer was one of the biggest structures in Winnie, and you could see it for miles.”
The dryers were a feat of engineering and resourcefulness.
“The original dryers were all wooden construction covered with corrugated tin. The company that built it contracted with a timber company in Louisiana. I remember my dad telling me it was all heart yellow pine. Some of the structural beams were 14” x 12” wide and 30-40 feet long, one big, huge pine tree.”
He recalled the expansion of farming operations and the necessity for more drying capacity.
“The Rollo boys started farming about that time as well on land going towards Port Arthur south of Hwy-73, and the dryer just swelled beyond capacity. That’s when the family members began to build their own round dryers, and Uncle Olide built a big commercial dryer over by his homestead, just west of 1410 north of the interstate. My dad purchased the original dryers from the family in 1979. We used it for our family rice and as a commercial dryer for other farmers.”
Richie reminisced about the challenging yet formative experiences at the rice dryers.
“I personally hated the rice dryers,” he said with a laugh. “We were farming, running tractors, and doing the farming all day long and harvesting, then we had to work at the dryers in the evening, because when they were rolling it was pretty much a 24-hour operation, and the different family members worked in shifts.”
Working at the dryers as a kid was particularly tough.
“If you were a kid, as a lot of the local kids and I were, you got the grunt end of the work, which usually meant leveling tanks. It was dusty and hot. You’d have to wear the face diapers, and they wouldn’t work; they’d clog up, and then you would start sucking dust around the side. It was a nasty, nasty job and not one that I ever wanted to inherit, but I always wanted the lumber out of there,” he added.
Richie recounted a dramatic event that marked a turning point for their farming operations.
“In the late nineties, the dryer caught fire. My mom called me and asked me to go to the dryers and check on Dad and make sure he didn’t have a heart attack, as he was so distraught. By the time I arrived, the structure was totally engulfed in flames. Being constructed with an all-wood structure and those huge beams, the fire was massive; I’ve never seen a fire like that.”
The aftermath of the fire was equally striking.
“The next day, we went to check the damage, and some of those big beams had fallen and broken in half, and they were still dripping sap. Fifty years after those trees were cut, and they still had pine tar in their center,” said Richie in disbelief.
Reflecting on the impact, Richie explained their shift in focus.
“At the time of the fire, my rice was the only rice in the dryer. The fire was kind of a gut punch to my dad, but you soldier on and do what you have to do. Rice farming was kind of on the wane by that time, so I don’t think my dad saw any need to rebuild. After the fire, we started focusing more on cattle and less on rice.”
Fleeting Moments Impacted Future
“Our attending university was important to our parents, so that’s exactly what I did after I graduated, because that’s what was expected of me,” Richie began, reflecting on his early adulthood.
Despite his efforts, Richie’s college journey took an unexpected turn.
“I did not graduate; I went for two years at what was Southwest Texas State University, now Texas State University. That was in the early ’80s when the economy started tanking, inflation and interest rates went through the roof, and my parents were starting to get into money trouble. They didn’t have the money for me to continue in school, and in my mind, I knew all along what I was going to do whether I went to college or not,” he said.
Richie saw value in his time spent at university, regardless of the outcome.
“I don’t think my time was wasted in school. God knows what He’s doing and allows all things for a reason,” he said thoughtfully.
Transitioning from a small town to a university environment was a significant change for Richie.
“Growing up in a small town, there were no strangers. We were a big family in the area, and our family was a big part of what was going on in the agricultural community here. All the families were; I’m not saying we were more prominent, but we were part of it. When I got to San Marcos, I was a small fish in a great big pond,” he said with a laugh.
The shift required Richie to adapt to new social dynamics.
“I was pretty shy and introverted because I was a product of my environment. At home, I didn’t need to be extroverted, I didn’t need to go out and meet people; everybody knew us. But when I got to school, I did if I wanted to be a part of everything there. So that was a big culture shock to me,” he said.
During his time at university, Richie experienced a brief but impactful relationship.
“While I was there, I met a girl, and we dated for a few weeks. She didn’t come back after the first semester, and I thought she had transferred to another school. I never saw her again, but it was a meeting that would forever change my life in later years,” noted Richie.
Deer hunter captures a dear heart
“I came home from college and started farming in 1983-84,” Richie began, recounting his return to agriculture.
He took advantage of USDA programs designed to help young farmers.
“There were some programs the USDA had; they are FSA now, for young farmers. I believe it was a guaranteed loan where the USDA would guarantee a young farmer’s loan if he couldn’t pay it back. I did that for a couple of years and did very well; I was able to pay off all my debt,” he explained.
In 1987, Richie met Wendy, who would later become his wife.
“In the meantime, I met Wendy, who was going to school at UT in Austin at the time. My cousin, Dean Devillier, and myself, and my best friend, Brett Swope, were supposed to be going deer hunting and we ended up in Austin,” he exclaimed with smiling eyes. “We went out to a dance hall, and that’s where I met who would become my wife. That was part of the ‘people God puts in your path’ kind of thing. We dated for a number of years and got married in ’92.”
After their marriage, Richie and Wendy settled into farm life.
“When we got married, I was farming on the Boyt ranch where the Schwertners live now. We were living where their ranch foreman lives now, moving in after David Barrow. We lived there a few months before I was able to talk my aunt into leasing and eventually selling us the family ranch place where we now live,” Richie said.
They continued to expand their holdings.
“A few years after that, I was able to buy a section of land near FM 1941 from Jo Rella Meaux, one of Jamie White’s daughters. We were also purchasing land around our house from Mom and Dad whenever we had the money,” he explained, adding that financial difficulties led to tough decisions. “Mom and Dad got into money trouble, and we ended up having to sell the place down south to buy the land from them. I wish I still had the Seabreeze land too; I loved that place, but it all worked out. Taylor and Cody Wilcox bought it from us. I quit farming rice about 2002-03 and just focused on cattle, and that’s what we’ve been doing since.”
How high’s the water, Mama . . . two foot high and risin’
“We were in a position before Harvey that we could have retired and just fooled with cattle and what we wanted to do,” Richie began, reflecting on the unexpected turn of events.
Then, Hurricane Harvey hit. They had no insurance because we weren’t in a flood zone.
“We’re still not in a flood plain, but we are impounded behind the interstate, so we’re still at risk . . . it can happen again,” he said.
The day before the floodwaters reached Richie’s home, his parents’ house flooded.
“We went and picked them up and took them to our house, figuring we’d ride it out and we’d be okay. I woke up the next morning and stepped out of bed into 23 inches of water.”
With quick thinking and neighborly help, Richie managed to get his parents to safety.
“A neighbor came by with an aluminum boat and took my parents to FM 1406, where there was a high spot, and they caught a ride into town and got a motel room. My son and I came back, and I pulled my family, my workers, and my neighbors out on a trailer with the tractor. McCain and I came back and loaded the pickup on the trailer and pulled it out so we would have something to drive,” he said.
The scene the next day was surreal.
“The next morning, the south side of the interstate was dry, and everything on the north side looked like the bay; it was surreal, it looked like the ocean,” Richie said emphatically. “The DPS put the Eastbound side on contraflow. We were driving on the eastbound side so we could survey our property, and it looked like the Gulf of Mexico, waves were lapping over the barrier.”
During their survey, they encountered a friend in a bass boat.
“As we were doing this, one of my son’s friends was coming down the flooded side in a bass boat. We flagged him down, got out of the truck, and climbed over the barrier into his boat,” Richie said with a chuckle.
But the reality of the disaster quickly set in. “We motored directly across the interstate to our house where we had an aluminum boat. We had to bail it out and get it in shape. Once we did, we started motoring around to survey our damage. There were dead cows everywhere, and a bunch of them were gathered around our house; they had just floated over the fences and found the highest spot.”
Richie and his family tried to save as many animals as they could.
“We started going around opening the gates and tried to push cattle to higher ground. But they didn’t know where to go, and you can’t drag a 1,500-pound cow with a sixteen-foot aluminum boat; we just couldn’t push ‘em. We lost over 60 head of cows, seven horses, a colt, and numerous calves. The calves we lost just due to the fact they weren’t very tall,” he explained.
Reflecting on the cause of the flooding, Richie shared his frustration.
“We knew the cause of the flooding that led to our troubles. When you see the photos of the freeway after Harvey hit with the eastbound lane dry as can be and the westbound side looks like a bay, the cause of the problem is irrefutable,” he said.
They were left devastated.
“We were wiped out. We didn’t have flood insurance because we’re not in a flood plain. The state has acknowledged there is a problem and they are going to get it fixed. They’ve opened up the barriers in some places, and that’s fine . . . but we still don’t know if it’s going to work or not,” he explained.
Richie detailed the inadequate infrastructure changes that contributed to their plight.
“Before they finished the stretch of interstate in front of our property in 2000, the interstate bridged over the bayous. The change they made is they boxed it in with culverts, and they are woefully undersized,” he said.
He has been diligently documenting the issues since Harvey. “I have all of the plans and studies from before the project was completed. The engineers are in agreement that the slope coefficient is wrong, and the sizing is wrong, so the water slows down when it hits the culvert. When the water slows down, the sediment falls out.”
Richie shared his ongoing efforts to address the problem.
“This afternoon, I am going to go take pictures of all the culverts to show the sedimentation build-up. I’ve done that every year since Harvey hit, and I take them to TxDOT and ask them to please clean the culverts and ditches,” he said.
He noted some progress but emphasized the need for more action.
“The culverts are undersized already, and now they’re half-plugged up, and there were good-sized trees growing in some of the ditches right next to the feeder roads. Well, now they’ve cleaned out the feeder road ditches, and they’ve cleaned out one culvert by Stevie’s house, but not completely. They pulled out over 100 dump truck loads from that one ditch crossing underneath the interstate, and they’re still not finished. There are still four other ditches and tributaries they haven’t touched since the work was completed in 2000; they’ve never maintained their assets,” exclaimed Richie.
Devillier V Texas: A fight for justice
“When Harvey hit, I was like a zombie,” Richie began, describing the overwhelming aftermath of the hurricane. “I didn’t know what to do; it was so surreal. Where do you start? You start taking one bite at a time. We were told it was a Biblical event and would never happen again. We got through that, we rebuilt, then two years later Imelda hit. Now there’s no denying there’s a problem.”
Richie recalled how the impact of Imelda sparked a determination within him.
“But I felt completely different when Imelda hit. I woke up with a sense of conviction that we were not going to stop until this was fixed,” he said.
He explained his stance on government responsibility.
“The government can take from us if they deem it is for the better good, but they cannot steal from us. When the government takes from its people and doesn’t pay for it, that’s tyranny, and we’re not going to let that happen here,” Richie declared passionately.
Seeking legal recourse, Richie and his family began looking for attorneys.
“We started looking for attorneys to bring a suit against the state of Texas. A dear attorney friend of ours pointed us to Burns Charest Law Firm, which had just won the Addicks-Barber flooding case in Houston against the Army Corps of Engineers. They believed we had a good case and took it in 2020 upon contingency. We sued in State Court under the Texas Constitution and also the Fifth Amendment under the United States Constitution. Everything went our way and then Texas asked it to be removed to Federal Court,” Richie explained.
Richie emphasized the importance of having strong legal representation.
“I raise cows, I don’t know much about the law, but I’m smart enough to know you hire the best attorneys you can afford, and we have those, we have the best of the best and they are fresh off a big win,” he said.
Their case faced several challenges as it moved through the legal system.
“Our attorneys agreed to move the case to Federal Court and the magistrate of said court, Judge Andrew M. Edison, ruled in our favor on everything. Then the state of Texas appealed to the Fifth Circuit, stating we didn’t have standing to sue under the United States Constitution. If the Constitution is not to protect every citizen, then who was it written for? What fires me up and aggravates me without end is that the state of Texas, MY state of Texas, which in my opinion is the greatest state in the Union to grow up in (and I still feel that way), was trying to do this to me!” Richie exclaimed.
Richie described the emotional toll of the legal battle.
“We went to the Fifth Circuit, and they agreed with the state of Texas, so we appealed for an en banc hearing, which is the whole battery of judges, and they denied it, so we had the wind knocked out of us again,” he recalled.
However, there was a glimmer of hope when the Institute for Justice contacted them.
“The Institute for Justice, who routinely watch the cases in the appellate courts, contacted us and said they felt the ruling against us was wrong and they would like to petition to take our case before the Supreme Court. This group is pro bono funded by donors, and the trial would cost us nothing. Praise the Lord for people who are willing to fund situations like this. I.J. took the ball and ran with it, and they are a brilliant group of people,” Richie said.
Richie and Wendy were invited to a conference by the Institute of Justice, which brought unexpected news.
“Wendy and I were invited to a ‘meet and greet’ conference in California by the Institute of Justice to meet their donors. The morning before the conference was to begin, I received a text at 6:00 a.m. from one of our attorneys back home congratulating us because the Supreme Court had granted our petition. The news was like divine timing; it couldn’t have come at a better time,” Richie shared.
The case proceeded with hopeful momentum.
“We got a date set and had 22-24 people who joined us in the gallery of the courtroom. We had a unanimous ruling in our favor about two months ago. The case has now moved back to the Fifth Circuit. I don’t think the Fifth Circuit is going to be in any kind of mood to do any shenanigans against us because they’ve already been spanked pretty hard by the Supreme Court who remanded and vacated their orders. Because a motion was made before we went to the Fifth Circuit for a summary dismissal, Judge Edison can just make a ruling without hearing all the evidence again. There’s a better than 50 percent chance that the judge will rule in favor of a class action suit and, because he’s seen the evidence, pronounce a ruling that the State of Texas can be sued and then we will go fight for damages,” Richie explained.
Richie voiced his unwavering resolve to see the case through.
“I am determined to see this through to the end, so this doesn’t happen to anyone else and to make sure the rights extended to us by our great United States Constitution are not violated by those in power,” he said with genuine Texas resolve.
Wow!