Julia Vawter Sterrett

Austin as I Saw It in 1855

"At 6 years old I first journeyed from Panola County to The Capital City, arriving by a clattering stage with Sounding bugle - the trip required a week and I thought Austin a grand place full of grand people."
By Julia Vawter Sterrett
Note: The author of this letter was born Sarah Julia Vawter on May 26, 1850. She was the daughter of A.L. Vawter and Martha Ann Weir On Jan. 19, 1870 she married Dr. Major Dowell Sterrett. They began their married life in the town of Grand Bluff, but later moved to Beckville. Julia died on Sep. 1, 9134 and is buried in Langley Cemetery, Beckville, Panola Co TX. An original copy of this newpaper article was generously shared by Miss Esther Lee Marshall, a granddaughter of Julia Vawter Sterrett. It was transcribed for posting by Marylee W. Knight.

Dallas Morning News, Dallas, Texas, 22 May 1932

  Austin is at present scarcely more than a day's travel by automobile from the once prosperous, but now decadent village of Grand Bluff, Panola County. In 1855, however, by horse-drawn vehicle a full week was required to make the trip between the two points.
  It is exactly seventy-six years since I journeyed for the first time from the bustling steamboat landing and ferry town of Grand Bluff, on the Sabine River, to the infant capital of the State of Texas.
  Many of the incidents connected with the trip, as well as numerous names and faces, have faded with the passing of the years: others are distinctly etched upon the pages of my memory. It is true that I was scarcely 6 years old at the time of this eventful visit, but both my mother and grandfather, believing that a child's education could scarcely begin too early, patiently answered all my questions and explained everything of interest along the road. Then long, long after our return home, people and incidents were still further impressed upon my memory through hearing them described by my relatives and the servants who accompanied us.
  The long trip to Austin was made primarily to see my new grandmother. She had been the beautiful Mrs. Elidia Calhoun, widow of a prominent Texas pioneer, before her marriage to my grandfather during one of his senatorial terms in the State Legislature. It was during one of grandfather's semiannual visits back to East Texas to see about his store and plantation that he persuaded my mother to take me and go back with him for the summer.

A Long Trip

  How well do I recall the busy day in which preparations were made for the journey and visit. It seems but yesterday that we started, so quickly does one think down years and hours to minutes and seconds. Long before dawn I was awakened by the bustling about the yard and household - servants getting everything in readiness for our departure. By sunup we were on our way, after saying tearful good-byes to the employees, all of whom, from the overseer down to the smallest pickaninnies, dressed in their Sunday best, had lined up in front of the long piazza to see us off.
  At the head of the short procession rode grandfather and one of his sons in a buggy. Behind him were my mother, another one of her brothers, my nurse Maria and I in a two-seated hack, driven by old Uncle Tom, who had been "Marse Andy's" (my grandfather's) valet and bodyguard. Still farther in the rear was a four-horse wagon driven by a stout colored man, carrying our carpetbags, feed for the horses, and food and camping equipment for the entire party.
  I do not recall sleeping more than one night in a house during the 350 mile trip. The other nights we made camp and slept on cots with only the starry heavens for a canopy. One night we camped on the Brazos River near Waco Village (as it was then called) where I gathered a lapful of the last crop of pecans. Our all-night stay in Bastrop I recall vividly. Shortly before we reached Bastrop, then a day's travel though but some thirty miles distant from Austin, grandfather said for mother, Maria and me to take the stage there for Austin.
  The hotel in which we spent the night in Bastrop was operated by a German family of some culture, for in the parlor were a grand piano, upholstered sofa and chairs, and oil paintings. In the bedrooms were hugh canopied four-poster beds on which were mountainous feather beds covered with snowy linen. In the dining room the long table was loaded down that night with meats of every description, steaming urns of coffee, gallons of buttermilk, hot biscuits, preserves and a variety of cakes and pies.

Entering Austin

  For the first time since we had left East Texas we were delighted by the sight of pine trees around Bastrop. Sheep ranches, farms and homes built of whipsawed lumber gave occasional hints of civilization between Bastrop and Austin. For the most part, however, our last few miles lay over a rough road, bordered by open prairie or laurel and cedar-covered hills. Along about sundown we came to a high hill from the top of which we could see Austin city. Exclamations of delight burst from the lips of everyone on the stage. Built on hills and almost surrounded by a rampart of higher hills, at the base of which flowed the waters of the Colorado, the city of Austin was even then a bit of paradise. In the gloaming, just as the candles were beginning to case their flickering light through open doors and windows, the man sitting beside the stage driver blew a long shrill blast upon the bugle. The driver cracked his whip above the heads of the horses as we started down the wide rough street. Amid the clop, clop, clop of the horses' hoofs, rumbling of the heavy stage wheels and continuous notes of the bugle, we arrived in the capital of the State of Texas.
  My grandparents lived about three blocks from the Capitol building. When grandmother appeared in the doorway to greet us, dressed in white, I thought she looked like the angel in my picture book at home. My grandfather, the boys and the two colored men didn't reach Austin until the day following.
  A few days after our arrival in Austin my mother dressed me up and sent me down to the photographer's studio. Because I cried when the artist attempted to make a photograph, he sent me back home. The next day Maria carried me back, and this time he succeeded in making a daguerreotype, which is in just as excellent condition today as it was seventy-seven years ago. My mother bought the black lace gloves showing in the picture and the white mull hat with ribbon streamers at the Lamar & Moore Store.
  The only unpleasant feature about my visit to Grandmother Weir's was the daily trip into town by a white man called Crazy Tom. Although considered harmless, he always succeeded in running the boys off the streets and in causing little children to scamper wildly into the houses whenever he appeared from his hillside shack. Picking up cigar stubs from the streets and begging a "chaw of terbacker" were about the worst things he did. Grandmother often sent him food as did other people who felt sorry for him

Pandora Would Peep

  Near grandmother's home was the office of Dr. Snyder, who soon became one of my best friends. Almost daily I could be found playing on the doorsteps or even in the office though I was always cautioned not to open the tall cabinet that stood in one corner. Pandora-like, that was the thing I most wanted to do. Finally at my insistence, he pushed back a sliding door and there beneath a shelf of glittering instruments was a grinning skeleton. I almost froze to the spot. Silently Dr. Snyder closed the door, and never again did I tease him to see into closed cabinets and drawers.
  Grandmother had a half-grown Indian boy whom she had cared for since he was a tiny lad. On leaving Austin to take part in warfare against the troublesome Indians, a Mr. Ford, a friend of the family, laughingly had said, "Do you want me to bring you a scalp?" "No," replied grandmother, "I want an Indian boy."
  Not long afterward Mr. Ford returned with the small son of the chief whose depredations had been the cause of the warfare. Nopo, as the child called himself, and a younger brother were riding behind their fleeing mother, who had another child in front of her, when Nopo slipped off the horse's back. In her frantic efforts to rejoin her vanquished tribe, the squaw probably did not know for some time that she had lost her oldest son. Mr. Ford also brought with him the braided coat of the chief who was killed in the skirmish, and for a long time afterward the lad would weep bitterly whenever he saw his father's garment.

Old Austin Homes

  Although many of the residences were built of hewn logs, as most pioneer homes were at that time, Austin had a number of beautiful and stately Southern mansions. Among those in which my relatives were frequent guests were the huge brick colonial of Gov. and Mrs. E.M. Pease, built on a forest-covered hill some distance from the city, the splendid Raymond and Fisher homes, designed by one of the most famous architects of the day, Col. Abner Cook; the unpretentious but neat and comfortable cottage of two of Austin's most interesting people, the Scotsman, Robert Barr, accountant in the Comptroller's Department, and his afterward celebrated wife, Amelia E. Barr, the novelist; the dignified Governor's Mansion, on an eminence at the rear of the Capitol, which later burned, and the French Embassy, residence of the French Ambassador whien Texas was a Republic; but at that time and since the property of Dr. J.M. Robertson and family.
  The principal hotel in those days was the Swisher, which was formerly known as the Bullock House. It stood on the lot now occupied by a drug store. Here it was that the pig incident occurred which caused such strained relations between France and the Republic of Texas.
  Austin had a number of "groceries" and general stores in 1855, but the only ones in the latter class whose names can be recalled were Lamar & Moore's and Hancock's. The former was on Seventh and Congress, and the latter where the Scarborough Building is today.

Then and Now

  The population of Austin in 1855 was, I am told, between 2,000 and 3,000. The smallness of the town may be attributed to the fear potential settlers had of the Indians on the frontier, as Austin then was, and also to the opposition of many who wished the Capitol to be more centrally located in Houston. Among the people of prominence then, and in after years, were A.W. Terrell, Gov. E.M. Pease, Chief Justice Hemphill, J.W. Throckmorton, Dr. Litten, Judge W.S. Oldham, Col. George Hancock, Thomas E. Sneed and A.J. Hamilton.
  Except for the fact that the Colorado channel was not quite so wide, the streets were rougher and steeper, and the hills seemed wilder and more rugged; the terrain was the same in 1855 as it is today. Probably the most noticeable difference is the absence from Main (now Congress Avenue) of a small creek called Rio Bravo. In early days it followed the course of Main as far south as Sixth Street whence it turned eastward and emptied into Waller Creek.
  At the time of our visit the temporary Capitol was still in use, as the new Capitol which burned in 1881 was not completed for almost a year after we were there. The old Capitol, built of double logs and facing east, was about where the City Hall now stands on Eighth Street. The new Capitol stood on the now vacant lot in front of the Governor's Mansion. The handsome old land office which is today a museum was also completed the year following our visit.
  After spending the summer with my grandparents in Austin and visiting for a few days grandfather's brothers Robert and Adolphus Weir in Manchaca Springs, we began our long journey back to the cypress shaded waters of the Sabine. Soon after our arrival at Grand Bluff, my father, A.L. Vawter, who had returned at the same time from a business trip to New York, died. Three years later my young mother followed him. Bereft then of both parents, I went with my nurse, Maria, to live with Grandfather and Grandmother Weir who had recently moved from Austin to their plantation in Rusk County.

A Modern Revelation

  In the spring of 1925, I went for the second time to Austin to visit one of my daughters. Instead of entering the city on a lumbering stage, I entered in the comfortable Pullman of a fast train. In the place of candles, the streets, public buildings and homes were illuminated with brilliant electric lights. A taxi sped me in five minutes to my destination a mile from the station. That night I went to sleep to the sound of music from a radio station in New York City. The following morning I was awakened by the simultaneous ringing of the telephone and the roaring of an airplane. Like Rip VanWinkle, I rubbed my eyes and looked about me. Gone were the heads of families that my childhood had known. In their places stood, not their sons, but their son' sons. Gone too were nearly all the substantial, but old-fashioned homes and buildings. Even the dust and ashes of the Capitol, so new, so splendid and so enduring in 1855, had long since been hidden under grass and flowers. Towering above and eclipsing all else in its magnitude and beauty was a Capitol, the proportions of which were hardly dreamed of in 1855. Sky scrapers, handsome residences, state institutions (including a magnificent university group) had usurped the sites once occupied by postoak groves, cedar brakes, pioneer homes and business houses.
  Outwardly, I too, had changed as much as the landscape before me. Across the stage of life had passed almost four generations, marriages, births and deaths had entered my own experience, molding me as they came. Yet my heart was as happy as it was when I first saw Austin three score and four years before. The dream of a lifetime had come true - I was again in the city of the violet crown.