By Rengypsy • 27 Feb, 2019 •

Over twelve years ago, this dreamer who had been an artisan and merchant at Texas Renaissance Festival for many years, and a patron long before that, heard through the grapevine that the owner of TRF, George Coulam, was selling his faire. I was not a wealthy man. I was raised by two public school teachers who took odd jobs with the school system to make ends meet. I had graduated in 79 from Texas A&M University and taught high school myself for 8 years. During the fall of 1985 or 86, I decided to go back to graduate school and signed up for a class in medieval history with a renowned Mediaeval and Renaissance professor by the name of Zolton Kostolnycz (Hungarian by birth). I sat in a room of about 30 at the beginning of class. When time had ended that morning, there were eight of us left. He spoke in a very deep accent—and in a high shrill voice. I knew it was gonna be one hell of difficult time in his class, but the knowledge, the stories, the way he weaved mankind’s past together, was addicting. I ended up taking him for 7-8 classes. They were all pretty much the same—early church history through the Renaissance.

But in the middle of my last class after having finished 30 prior hours, and all that was left was this one class and writing my thesis to complete my masters, I quit. I walked out with one paper left incomplete. I put a back pack on and hitchhiked across Europe for 7 months living in a tent. I had to feel and witness what and where he had spoken of…that land of Celts, Anglo-Saxons, Picts, and the like. I had to chant in Celtic caves, walk Robin’s Sherwood Forest. I had to drink a pint at the base of Nottingham Castle in Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. I had to baptize myself in the land, the people, the buildings and streets, the history I had become so enamored with.

When I returned, I started working for a not-for-profit where I have been for the last thirty years.

Back to sitting in my booth at TRF years later when I heard the faire was up for sale. So, Monday, back at work, I made appointments with two prominent businessmen in my area. I had one simple question for both. “Could someone with my meager means ever dream of such a venture, such a financial undertaking”.

Both said “Of course. You just need a business plan that can convince either a bank or an investor”. So I was off. For months I put together and tweaked a business plan. I had back in forth with a critical investor. Then, I remember it as clear as day…when he said, Eric, we can do this.” He had used we. There was a chance.

Well, after I had spent approximately 10k on legal fees trying to get a real estate and business contract in place, Mr. Coulam was no longer interested in selling his creation.

But I was not deterred. My family would get in the car or truck some 75 Saturdays and Sundays as I walked throughout tracts of land throughout Texas from Katy to San Antonio to Austin and back to the Brazos Valley. We saw land that was perfect. We saw mining sites. We woods and pastures and land without easements to land almost inside town propers.

I must have executed some 15 contracts during that time, but for a myriad of reasons none went through. Mostly because they didn’t touch my heart as the right place. One or two would have been great, but others purchased it before I would get a contract executed. So the search continued.

Then one early morning traveling on U.S. 290 from Bryan-College Station to a meeting in Austin, I saw a for sale sign that had just been placed on the land where Sherwood currently stands. I pulled over, called the realtor, asked a few questions, and without walking the property, and told him to work up a contract. We would walk it later. There was of course a grace period where I would only lose my earnest money if it wasn’t a fit. But with 1200 feet frontage off 290…wooded…it felt that morning I had found the home for the faire.

That weekend my family walked it. I could see it all. We fought our way through land that had not been walked on for decades. It was perfect.

And thus, Sherwood was born.

But as you know, birthing a child is only the beginning.

Soon after, we would begin the tradition of holding Gatherings, meeting at pubs where playtrons gathered, holding tours for those vendors who might join in on this dream. And they did. I would be walking through recently cleared woods telling folk where stages would be, where paths would be, where booths would be located. We had fire circles and drumming. We had pot luck dinners and broke bread together.

Volunteers would come to the Gatherings, camp, cut wood, help build structures, and over time, with sweat and shared vision, this little faire was dream becoming manifest. One day, I think in September, I was giving a tour through what would be a stretch to considered much more than a dream constructed of thought more than of materials. But on that walking tour with some 30+ people, a tall man stood out and asked, “Are you Rengypsy?” to which I replied, “I am he” and he proclaimed “I Love Rengypsy”. And soon after, George Appling became my partner…and through magic, unbelievable hard work by so many of you, the gates of Sherwood Forest Faire opened for the first time in February 2010.

Sherwood was and will always be a Shared Vision—a mosaic where rennies, platrons, artisans and management all have paint brushes, all add their dreams upon this canvas.

We welcome you to our 10th Season. It’s been an amazing venture. Thank all of you for making this faire what it is, what it will become.

Respectfully

Rengypsy