I recall having breakfast at my grandparents house. Instead of using a table cloth, my grandfather would lay out the morning newspaper on the table. He would get the sports pages and grandma would get the obituaries. Sixty years later, I admit checking the obituaries daily. Most of the time, if I recognize a name that individual’s passing is noted. Sometimes I’ll even pass the obit on to other friends.

Mostly the exercise is quickly forgotten, life goes on. But every once and a while the obituary triggers reflections and memories both of that person and the times past. It is almost like hearing an old rock and roll song. One that transported you to that summer after you graduated from high school. I read Don Dibble’s obituary and suddenly it was 1979, again.

https://www.sanmarcosrecord.com/obituary/donald-alvin-dibble-lll

Back then there wasn’t any such thing as a “Dive Team.” The Game Warden was charged with investigating drownings. As far as body recoveries went, that was up to bacteria. Eventually gases would build up in the victim and the body would surface.

In San Marcos, we had Don Dibble. He owned and ran the local dive shop. He liked cops. Pretty soon the local Game Warden, Calvin Turner, a Highway Patrolman, Johnny Ripps and a couple of San Marcos cops, Doug Smith and myself were all certified and equipped.

As the Game Warden, Calvin had no choice in the matter. It was his task to investigate drownings and coordinate recovery efforts. As fellow cops, we weren’t about to let him go alone. Dibble could have stayed on the sidelines. He didn’t.

Whatever we needed, in the way of dive gear or expertise, Dibble was there. No charge. Soon, we had a cadre of volunteers to aid Calvin in Search and Recovery dives. Our respective law enforcement agencies didn’t support or even acknowledge our activities. It was the ideal bureaucratic response, benign neglect.

When an incident occurred my sergeant would shrug and let me go, under the guise of assisting the game warden. No overtime, and no official assignment. Had we been injured there probably wouldn’t have been any workman’s comp either.

Jacobs Well is a water filled hole in the ground. It is the entrance to an underwater cave system. With proper planning and caution it is an interesting dive, once. The mystic far outweighs the reality. The cave stretches on beyond the safe limits of a recreational dive. That is the problem. There are divers who insist on pushing the limits and attempt a penetration beyond their abilities and equipment.

Divers who challenged Jacobs Well, were in effect trespassing. The typical diver excursion to Jacobs Well took place at night. Divers would gear up in the car, jump out, run to the entry and jump into the shaft. This method limited the amount of equipment they could carry. Who needs redundant systems? It also precluded a “down line” secured at the surface. The water was crystal clear and who wanted to tip off security?

The problems arose when things didn’t go according to plan. When that happened, sediment kicked up turns crystal clear water into a zero visibility soup. With no down line there is no way out. Been there done that, I free ascended from about twenty-five feet during a blackout. What saved me is that I knew where I was, knew where the entrance was supposed to be and just had to hit the right angle to get out. I was so out of air that I later stripped the regulator off the tank without first purging it (releasing the pressure in the hoses).

My experience didn’t stop me from doing recovery dives in Jacobs Well. If I told you it was because of brass balls, I’d be lying. If Dibble, Calvin and the others were going to be there, then so was I.

Back to the incident recounted in Don’s obituary. In 1979 two divers, Kent Maupin and Mark Brashier out of Houston made a nighttime dive in Jacobs Well. They lacked the necessary equipment and common sense to make the dive.

I was working patrol on the evening shift at San Marcos Police Department. I was responding to a routine call when I met Don Dibble traveling in the opposite direction. The meeting was notable because Don had been working in Florida for the better part of six months. I didn’t know he was back. I couldn’t stop. We waved and I continued on to the call.

At about ten the Game Warden Calvin Turner contacted me on the radio. He stated that two divers were down in Jacobs Well. Calvin gave me directions to Don’s house. He hadn’t been in town long enough to get a telephone installed. Shortly afterwards I found myself banging on Don’s door. This is a guy I considered to be a friend and mentor. I had not seen him in months. My greeting was, “Calvin says we have two divers down in Jacobs well.” Don’s reply, “I’ll get the keys to the shop.” So much for ‘good to see you glad your back.’

I made the initial assessment dive, that night. There was no sign of either diver. The next morning we returned to set up for the long haul. We rigged down lines and placed extra tanks at strategic locations. There was no sign of either victim. They had obviously penetrated the cave beyond safe limits. Don and Calvin teamed up to make their assessment. The feeling was that any further attempt at a recovery was beyond our ability. Don as the dive expert and Calvin as the Game Warden in charge of the effort would make an assessment and if they agreed we would wrap up the operation.

During the dive Don went into the passage beyond the safe limits. He didn’t go far before he triggered a landslide. The passage is at about a forty-five degree angle. The floor of the passage is gravel and river stones. The height of the passage varies according to currents. I have seen it when it is eighteen inches high and when it is four feet high. Don ran out of air. As he did so he gave one last lurch and broke free. Calvin was there with a spare tank and regulator at hand. During his ascent Don swallowed air. The expansion of the air as he rose caused his stomach to rupture. More at the link.

http://www.visitwimberley.com/jacobswell/lBond/

About a year later I was with Don and a Texas Monthly writer named Steven Harrigan when we returned to Jacobs Well. A landowner downstream from Jacobs Well found a pelvis encased in a swim suit. A further search turned up a wetsuit bootie expanded to ten times its original size.

The intent was to erect a barrier that would restrict access to the fatal passage. During that dive we found a human skull, a femur and several ribs. It turned out to be Brashier’s. Maupin’s remains were found in 2016.

A number of people have told variation on the story of Jacobs Well. The guys that know came together to accomplish a task. They didn’t get paid. Didn’t receive accolades. They saw something that needed doing and did it.

I have lost contact with the guys that made up that initial cadre. Calvin Turner died in 2012. I last saw Johnny Ripps twenty years ago. Doug Smith and I stay in touch, saw him two weeks ago. It has been fourteen years since I last spoke to Dibble. I recently thought about looking him up. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Maybe it is just as well. In my minds eye I see them all as we were in 1979.