With the exception of a few months I’ve lived in Houston for all of my life. I love the city and its suburbs but like many natives I have at times underestimated our fourth largest metropolitan area . Perhaps I have taken its assets for granted because I have been distracted by the demands of living. Only now that I am retired am I learning just how exciting our fair city and the little towns that surround it actually are. In fact, there are times when so much is happening on a given day that it is impossible to partake in all of the incredible events. At any moment there is more than enough to do and much of it is available at little or no cost. I particularly enjoy the historical aspects of my town that I have heretofore only superficially known.

In the northern shadow of downtown Houston lies Washington Avenue. For much of my life it was a dirty and depressed area akin to skid row. We used to drive as quickly as possible beyond its reach on our way to visit my Uncle Louie in what has of late been dubbed Northside Village. As we skirted past Washington Avenue I was unaware that it is home to two of the most fascinating cemeteries in the city, Glenwood and Washington. Glenwood opened in 1840 and was the first planned cemetery in the city. It became the final resting place for some of the city’s most famous citizens including Howard Hughes. The next time you visit the Hughes Hangar watering hole you may want to entertain your friends by explaining that the inspiration for its name is resting eternally just down the street.  

Washington Cemetery lies so close to Glenwood that it almost appears to be part of its more polished neighbor. Instead of boasting immaculate landscaping and monolithic monuments Washington Cemetery was somehow forgotten and became a weed infested mess from years of neglect. An historical group contacted descendants of the people buried there and began a campaign to restore the place to its former glory. A massive cleanup effort revealed graves of civil war veterans and old time Houston citizens alike. Several of my husband’s family members who had been early settlers of the northside lie inside its borders which are now pristinely manicured and under the perpetual care of the next door Glenwood cemetery board. A drive through the place is like taking a walk back into a long forgotten time when Houston was little more than the dream of a couple of slick real estate entrepreneurs. It is an island of serenity in our bustling and growing metropolis and a treasure trove of history.

In east Houston lies Harrisburg Boulevard. Today its most noticeable features are the new Metro line and a variety of factories, strip centers, and the Star of Hope Mission. At one time it was one of Texas’ first towns and became the capitol of the newly formed republic. But for a decision to move the headquarters to Austin it might have been quite different from the zany mix of businesses and cultures that it is today. 

When I was a child Harrisburg Boulevard boasted some of the best shopping in the city. An art deco Sears store was at the center of the retail mecca. It’s where I went to visit Santa Claus each December and my family often purchased gifts and Christmas trees there as well. Just down the street were a number of small family stores offering shoes, clothing, and household goods. I spent many a Saturday walking along the well groomed sidewalks gazing into the shop windows with my mother, my aunts and my cousins. The same Howard Hughes who is buried in Glenwood Cemetery built the oil tool company that made him wealthy in a location not far away. 

The first capitol of Texas was actually just south of Houston in West Columbia. The area, including Houston, was part of the original Austin Colony. The land had belonged to Mexico but it was so far north that few citizens had any desire to inhabit it. The Mexican government wanted to develop the vacant acres and so they devised a plan to attract settlers from the United States who were looking for a new opportunity to own a place of their own. They offered land at ridiculously low prices in exchange for three promises from the colonists. The people must agree to become citizens of Mexico. They must convert to Catholicism. They had to develop the land. A group of three hundred families took the bait and became owners of thousands of acres for as little as two hundred dollars. Among the original colonists were the leader of the expedition, Stephen F. Austin, and a man named Varner who settled in what is now West Columbia. 

Anyone who has attended Texas schools knows that ultimately a huge disagreement occurred between the new land owners and the Mexican government. Eventually the troubles led to all out war and an improbable victory for the Texans at San Jacinto. After Santa Ana was captured one of the soldiers spirited him away to West Columbia and held him prisoner on the Varner land in West Columbia which would ultimately be named the first capitol of Texas. The Varner place was later purchased by a man named Patton who turned it into a sugarcane producing plantation worked by over sixty slaves. Governor James Hogg who had made a fortune at Spindletop purchased the land and its buildings after much of it, including the old slave quarters, had been destroyed in the 1900 hurricane. Governor Hogg hoped to use it as a summer resting place for his family. His son eventually remodeled the main house and his only daughter, Ima, filled it with antiques and ultimately donated it to the state of Texas.

It’s a short drive to West Columbia from Houston but well worth the effort. The town is bursting with Texas history. In a field just off of the highway is the place where Stephen F. Austin died while visiting a friend. The Varner Hogg historical site is as lovely and interesting as any of the antebellum mansions in Louisiana or Mississippi. The tour guide is excellent and the rooms are filled with an exciting array of artifacts that Ms. Ima so lovingly collected. 

The home lies on the banks of a slowly meandering creek and is shaded by ancient oaks and magnolias. A grove of pecan trees creates a lovely view from the veranda of the house. There are barns and even the ruins of the slave quarters from the days when the Varner family lived there. A lovely exhibit brings to life the history of those who lived under the rule of their owners. It even includes oral histories from some of the former slaves detailing what daily life was like. The voices from the past are haunting.

Sometimes it’s good to pause from the rush of city life to learn more about the people who came before us. We see only the here and now of Houston and the places that surround it. We too often forget just how different things were not so long ago. Spending a Sunday afternoon discovering the history of our home is a fascinating experience and well worth the time. It’s ironic that often the people that Mike and I encounter on our adventures are “out of towners” who are more enchanted by our city than we are. They see Houston with the eyes of an explorer and to them it is a magical place. Perhaps we might learn something from them. There is so much to be found if only we begin the journey.