Sirens and Symbols: Clarksville Residents Reflect on the Texas Confederate Home   Tom Barnett Prepared for the CCDC December 12, 2008 The African American community of Clarksville and The Texas Confederate Home for Men coexisted in the hills west of downtown Austin for over seventy-five years. Yet, there is little documentation of any relationship between them in local archives. This exhibit provides brief histories of both Clarksville and the Texas Confederate Home for Men and examines the significant and unexplored linkages between the two. The presence of the Confederate Home profoundly affected the self-sufficient community of Clarksville, and years later, it still holds an important place in the memories of many former Clarksville residents. A Brief History of Clarksville Emancipated African Americans founded Clarksville in 1871, just six years after the end of the Civil War. Clarksville was registered as a national historic district in 1976 because of its African American heritage and history as a freedmen’s settlement. Two landmarks celebrating this heritage have subsequently been given markers by the Texas Historical Commission: the Haskell House, which was built by freedman Peter Tucker in 1875 and stands as an example of vernacular African American architecture during this era, and the Sweet Home Missionary Baptist Church, which has been in continuous operation since the 1880s. PICTURE: Sweet Home Baptist Church letting out in the 1970s – from an unprocessed box at the Austin History Center: SH.02.032, photo labeled CL-75 Clarksville’s emergence as a freedmen’s settlement must be understood in the context of the political and economic climate of mid-nineteenth century Austin. During this period, the capital city was at the edge of the country’s western frontier. The Hill Country west of town remained sparsely settled by European immigrants, Mexicans, and Comanche Native Americans. A plantation economy had emerged in eastern Texas based on the exploitation of enslaved African people, who were taken from West Africa directly to Galveston or were brought to Texas by White families who were migrating from the Deep South. The land that would become Clarksville was once a part of the Pease Plantation. Elisha Pease, the two-time governor of Texas, owned an expanse of land west of downtown, from the Colorado River to around 24th Street. Although he was a Unionist, Pease believed that the Texas economy would collapse without slave labor. It is little surprise, then, that Pease owned people of African descent who worked in the house and fields of his large estate. The Civil War and its aftermath brought confusion, violence, and economic and political upheaval to Texas. For recently freed African Americans, it was a time of both tremendous optimism and unimaginable confusion. Along with the opportunities to reunite with lost family and control their own future, they were faced with the bitter reality of institutionalized racism, where the threat of violence was pervasive and the reality of freedom rarely lived up to the promises of the Emancipation Proclamation. Owing to the economic turmoil that followed the Civil War, Pease sold off pieces of his estate after returning to Texas in 1866. One buyer was former Confederate general Nathan Shelley, who in 1871 sold two acres of land on West 10th Street to Charles Clark, a local freedman who had worked for Pease in the past. Clark helped other freedmen acquire land in the area and subdivided his own plot to help others gain footing as well. Slowly, a community was established, and the settlement was named in his honor. Like many other freedmen’s settlements across the state, Clarksville acted as a site of reunification for families who had lost touch with one another during slavery. Despite being just two miles from the State capitol, Clarksville was surrounded by woods and seemed like a world away from the city of Austin. City officials who visited the settlement in the early twentieth century characterized it as a “dense impenetrable cane thicket” and a “wide scattering of subsistence farms.” Early Clarksville residents lived off the land, relying heavily on subsistence agriculture and a communal spirit in order to make ends meet. The Sweet Home Baptist Church provided a center for religious and civic life, and fostered the growth of a strong community spirit that would thrive in Clarksville for decades. Clarksville peaked in population around the start of the Great Depression. At this time, many residents were transitioning from agricultural livelihoods to various other occupations, such as skilled trades within Clarksville and other forms of labor throughout the city. While this gave residents more opportunities, the community was confronted with new pressures as well. In 1928, city leaders promoted a plan to segregate the city by establishing a “Negro District” and limiting services to African Americans to areas east of East Avenue (what is now Interstate 35). This policy, which remained in effect until 1953, undoubtedly made life more difficult for Clarksville residents. For example, it forced schoolchildren to walk miles across town in order to attend segregated schools. In 1968, the city announced plans to build a highway along both sides of the Missouri Pacific Railroad. Though heavily protested by Clarksville residents, the highway was built in the early 1970s, resulting in the destruction of over one-third of homes in Clarksville. Since then, skyrocketing property values have forced many older residents to move out of Clarksville. Today, African Americans make up roughly two percent of the neighborhood, with wealthy Anglo Americans now the majority. Throughout these changes, the spirit of Clarksville’s African American community has lived on through the weekly services at Sweet Home Baptist Church and other community gatherings. The Texas Confederate Home In 1884, the John B. Hood Camp of United Confederate Veterans purchased sixteen acres of land adjacent to Clarksville, in order to provide a home for indigent Civil War veterans. Similar institutions were created throughout the South because the federal government offered no pension for veterans of the Confederacy, as they did for Union veterans. As a result, private sources were needed to provide funds to care for the thousands of soldiers wounded during the War. Groups like the United Daughters of the Confederacy and the Sons of the Confederacy were established to aid these veterans, but also to celebrate antebellum Southern ideals. The Camp obtained a charter from the state and opened the doors of the Confederate Home in November 1886. Initially funded privately, the State of Texas assumed full control of the Home in 1891 and invested to improve its grounds and build more structures surrounding the main building. Over the course of its existence, the Confederate Home for Men housed over two thousand war veterans. It admitted patients who were deemed unable to meet life’s demands on their own. They were wounded by the traumatic experiences of the war, and many of them were also suffering from dementia. According to a series of reports prepared every two years by the Confederate Home superintendent, many of the patients were “less responsible than small children” and some periodically became “violently insane.” In addition, the Confederate Home was frequently in a state of turmoil, plagued by mismanagement and deplorable living conditions. Reports of violent incidents involving mentally disturbed patients were common, though there is no mention of any events that took place off the Home grounds. As the number of Confederate veterans declined over the years, the Home began to admit veterans from the Spanish-American War, and by 1943, patients from the public. In 1954, the last Confederate veteran in residence died at age 108. In 1963, all residents of the Confederate Home were transferred over to the Kerrville State Hospital. The building remained empty on its large grounds throughout the 1960s, and was finally demolished by the city in 1970 to make way for University of Texas student housing. Today, this housing facing West 6th Street still stands, while the back end of the grounds bordering West 10th Street in Clarksville is mostly undeveloped and wooded. A few traces of the old Confederate Home can still be seen in these woods. Just Across 10th Street: An Unexplored Connection The significance of the Texas Confederate Home in Clarksville’s history has yet to receive attention from local historians. This is understandable given that the majority of Austin residents mostly ignored both places during this period. Without archival materials to rely upon, in November 2008 I interviewed three people and spoke informally with several others at Sweet Home Missionary Baptist Church who had lived in Clarksville. Those who were interviewed express how the presence of the Texas Confederate Home had a profound impact on Clarksville residents for decades, though there were few examples of specific violent incidents. While the responses were varied, for some, the presence of the Confederate Home was a real source of fear and came to symbolize the racism that was institutionalized by law and social custom in the United States during this era. The Confederate Home was, above all else, a presence in Clarksville. Pauline Brown says that nobody ever knew what took place on the other side of its walls, but community elders strongly advised residents to stay away from the Home. Every so often, pastors at Sweet Home reminded churchgoers to steer clear of the Confederate Home; parents also frequently told their children to stay away. This fear made sense in light of the racial climate of the times. Moreover, many Clarksville residents experienced direct contact with Confederate veterans that often resulted in unsettling memories. Veterans verbally assaulted Clarksville children while they played on 10th Street, and yelled racial slurs at them. In addition, patients were known to frequently escape into the neighborhood. All Clarksville residents remember the sirens that sounded when a patient went missing. Upon hearing these sirens, they would call their children inside because they were afraid of the potentially violent veterans. Pauline Brown remembers an incident when a veteran came and sat on her aunt's porch. Although he never spoke and was eventually chased off, one can imagine how this would have been an unsettling experience for Brown and her family. Similarly, Shirley Collins recalls stories about a veteran known throughout the community as Bigfoot, who frequently escaped from the Home and peered in residents' windows. These stories illustrate some of the ways in which the presence of the Confederate Home affected day-to-day life in Clarksville. Beyond the impact of these immediate incidents, for many Clarksville residents the Confederate Home came to symbolize the broader racial injustice faced by African Americans during this era. Many of them never understood why the Home was built where it was, adjacent to a freedmen's community. Some believe the Home was put there to intimidate early Black settlers. Moreover, The Home was a constant reminder of the Civil War era and its aftermath, which was a time of great turmoil and strife for African Americans throughout the country. To Shirley Collins, the Confederate Home was a reminder of the "limitations of our freedom," and its presence was the one black cloud shadowing a community that was otherwise vibrant and prosperous. Reclaiming History This story underscores the importance of collecting local history from people whose voices often get left out of the archives. Acknowledgement of the more troubling aspects of the past can be difficult, but it has the potential to encourage dialogue and initiate a process of healing and reconciliation. The stories shared by Clarksville residents reflect genuine trauma and are proof of a shared history in the complex racial climate of the United States. Their experiences should not be forgotten. In closing, what is the legacy of the Confederate Home in Austin? Some local citizens want the site of the Confederate Home to receive a historical marker. This raises complex questions about what this recognition would represent for the people of Austin. Will it serve to celebrate the legacy of the Confederacy like so many other monuments and statues in the city? Or will the full context of its presence be acknowledged, allowing a more critical understanding of its lasting significance?