No matter how many times I have headed off on a ghost explore in Texas I am always struck by how these small towns remain time capsules of a rugged pioneering start and a graceful decline of the "death by railroad bypass" phenomenon.
This past weekend my husband and I hopped on the moto and took on the Texas Independence Trail northwest of Houston and in the vast middle of nowhere that comprises most of Texas.
Having been to Anderson a few times, I was surprised to read about the Fanthorp Inn- a stagecoach inn where many of the important players of the Texas Revolution and the Civil War once stayed and politics often played out in the men's parlor. Anderson is literally one courthouse square with a few side streets. The Inn was a hive of activity just around the corner of a dead end road. If you weren't looking for it- you'd never stumble across it.
Built in the early 1800's and lived in by the Fanthorp descendents until the family gifted the inn to the State in the 1970's, this inn appears today as it did in the 1850's. As we approach we see ladies in period dress playing instruments on the front porch as guests pass by in a restored stagecoach.
The house was the local pub, the inn, and the post office for the once thriving Anderson community. Our tour guide proudly shared in his knowledge of all things Texas primitive. How the women worked endless hours in layers of petticoats in the scorching summer heat. He shared stories of Quanah Parker and great Comanche raids in the area. But he never shared his bottle of water as we followed and mentally bordered between "Wow, that's interesting..." and "Shut the bejeezus up already!!!!!"
Knowing that both Mr. and Mrs. Fanthrop, as well as others, had died in the house- the victims of yellow fever, we kept the cameras busy in hopes of capturing a ghost or two. Apparently the Texas summer sun was too hot even for the supernatural!
I was really taken by Mrs. Fanthorp, her bravery, and tenacity. Married to the 43 year old Mr. Fanthorp when she was 19, she ruled the roost.
A trip to Anderson is never complete without a stop at the Edsel graveyard a few hundred feet from the courthouse.
There are three antique stores that also surround the Edsels. Usually in Anderson, you just wait on the store porch and someone comes along with a key. On this visit all three were open and in moments we were in the company of a county commissioner and a former mayor sitting in the stores and ready to share history with anyone who asked.
From Anderson we headed west to Washington On The Brazos to find the original capitol of the Republic of Texas. Many Fanthorp guests would debate the issues that fueled the drive for Texas independence.
Raised in Connecticut, I am used to historical parks such as Mystic Seaport, Sturbridge Village, and the Leffingwell Inn. All well preserved, roped off and properly curated tourist destinations surrounded by the noise of modern life.
In Texas, many historical destinations are remote, accessed by farm roads and a hundred miles from the nearest interstate. There are no tourist shops, MacDonalds or sprawling gas stations. When we found this old grocery store on our way to Washington On The Brazos we stopped for a much needed hydration break.
True Texas dwells in these small town groceries. There are chairs for sitting, a bar for drinking, and a store owner quick with a map and a rundown of what not to miss. We asked for the best way to find the building where the Texas Declaration of Independence was signed. In his thick drawl he said, "Go out here on the porch, walk down the two steps and look to yer right."
Lo and behold: the birthplace of independent Texas!
Once the wealthiest town in Texas, all that remains here along the Brazos River rests in the safe hands of the Texas State Park system and closely guarded by one local store owner.
Washington On The Brazos is meticuously preserved and well documented in neat cut trails that mark the old roads leading through town and down to the ferry landing. These are prime ghost hunting fields given that Washington was often raided by Indians and prior to it's regal history was once described as "the most putrid town on the Brazos" due to notorious gambling, drinking and prostitution.
Though we wanted to really explore the remaining buildings, the walk was proving exhausting as the afternoon sun raged higher into the August sky. Something was brewing in both me and my husband. We watched each other warily from the corner of our eyes for the subtle changes. Though we didn't speak of IT- we knew IT was coming.
Saving the lengthy terrain hike for another day we climbed back on the motorcycle and headed for the great pioneer town of Independence. There would be the ruins of the original Baylor University, the remains of the Seward Plantation, and the one gas station we could find.
Unfortunately we took this trip by motorcycle. With no break from the sun, we were like two small kabobs on an inferno grill flying through time and space withering to nothing more than salt stains.
As I ravenously downed two bottles of sweet tea and searched for a third, I knew IT had us in a choke hold. If we didn't call it quits, IT , commonly known as heat exhaustion, would put us in grave danger.
Noting at that moment the store thermometer read 102 in the shade, we hydrated as best we could and vowed to return in the fall.
We somehow made the two hour ride home under the blazing sun. As we spent Sunday lying lifeless on the couch, still re-hydrating, we tipped our hats to Texas for teaching us valuable lessons in both pioneer history and health and safety!
LOVE & MORE SWEET TEA PLEASE!!!
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