The Strand, with its graceful 19th century iron front buildings, cafes and shops is nearly empty at 6:00 PM in the middle of the summer tourist season. Broadway's elegant mansions line a wide boulevard that's easy for a pedestrian to cross even at the height of the rush hour. Parking along the seawall, with its beach access, is usually no problem mid-afternoon. The gray sand, fronting the murky Gulf water, is peppered with sun worshipers, but there's lots of room to stretch out. With the exception of a few tourist oriented Ship Canal restaurants, reservations, or even waiting in line for a table, are rarely a necessity. It's a warm and sultry July day, with a nice ocean breeze, as I witness Galveston slowly rising from the water like a majestic injured whale that will not give up.
The Seawall
There are a surprising number of historical markers indicating "1900 Storm Survivor" on mansions, houses and commercial buildings in the historic core of Galveston. Considering the catastrophic damage and death of over 6,000 people that summer day in September 1900, the resilience of solid construction is stunning. Even more amazing was the city's recovery within less than two decades, although not to the height of economic importance it enjoyed in the 19th century.
Galveston sits on a barrier island, or more appropriately, a large sand bar. The wealthy citizens that survived and refused to abandon their city were faced with a daunting decision. Should they rebuild without confronting the reality that another great storm could just as easily wash over the city? Galveston's leaders devised an unheard of engineering plan. The city would be raised, on an average, eight feet behind a seventeen foot seawall along the Gulf with a drainage incline toward the Bay. At first it seemed a ridiculous proposition given the technology of the day, yet within ten years that's exactly what took place. Many of the mansions along Broadway and in the Silk Stocking District and modest middle class bungalows were all raised and resettled on the landfill that came from the thousands of destroyed and demolished structures that were victims of that terrible storm.
The film "The Great Storm," at the Pier 21 Theater, tells this incredible story. A visit to the Galveston Island Visitors Center at the 1859 Ashton Villa on Broadway adds an interesting side note. No one was forced to raise their structure, but the first eight feet of their building would become an underground chamber if that was their decision. Ashton Villa's wealthy owners choose exactly that, a decision that did not bode well in the future. Ashton Villa is no longer open for tours due to flood damage of its now underground floor caused by succeeding storms.
The magnitude of the task is brought clearly to light visiting the several mansions that are private house museums or administered by the Galveston Historical Foundation. The 1895 Moody Mansion, a 28,000 square foot brick and stone Richardsonian Romanesque beauty, fully restored through the patronage of the wealth Moody family, is Galveston living history. Merchants, banking, real estate, agriculture, manufacturing, shipping and philanthropy, the Moodys epitomize the capitalist spirit that made and sustains the city. The 21,000 square foot Bishop's Palace, the former Gresham Mansion, an American Institute of Architects "100 most important buildings in America," is solid sandstone with massive carved wooden interiors. The classic 1857 Trinity Episcopal Church houses priceless Tiffany stained glass windows. Just try to visualize all of these being jacked up eight feet into the air?
The Free State
Despite this success, the city never regained its economic prominence, or its population, as the financial and shipping centers shifted to safer ground on the Texas mainland especially to Texas City, Houston and San Antonio. Yet the Roaring Twenties through the 1950's did see a boom of a more notorious side as organized crime, a la Atlantic City, brought dubious glamour in the guise of the Hotel Galvez, the Balinese Room and stars of stage and screen under the patronage of "barber shop owners" Sam and Rosario Maceo. Defying Prohibition and gambling regulations this colorful era is affectionately known as the Free State of Galveston.
Galvestonians are tenacious
In the 1980's, Galveston natives, oil and real estate tycoons George and Cynthia Mitchell, developers of the planned Texas city of The Woodlands, single handedly took the decaying historic core under their considerable wings. The gleaming white ornate stucco over brick Italianate 1879 Leon & H. Blum Building dominates a city block in the Historic District. It was transformed into the beautiful Tremont House Hotel, one of over twenty buildings owned by Mitchell Historic Properties. The Mitchell name justly graces a street intersecting with the venerable Strand. It was benefactors like the Mitchells and the Moody family that once more saved the city when its existence was tested in September 2008.
Ike
Hurricane Ike was not supposed to be an issue; after all it was only a category 2 storm. Yet never in Galveston history had a hurricane approached the island from the south pushing a massive storm surge up the bay. The south side of the island and Bolivar Peninsula on the mainland were devastated. The 17-foot seawall protecting the historic city held, but "Hurricane Ike High Water" markers are now placed side-by-side with the "1900 Storm Survivor" plaques as six to eight feet of water inundated downtown. When I visited Galveston for the first time in February 2009 I witnessed the devastation. The Tremont House was covered with scaffolding, the University of Texas Medical Branch was under threat of closure and a hotel built on a pier jutting into the Gulf had snapped in two.
Two years later, when I asked the administrator at Ashton Villa's Galveston Island Visitors Center why the city was so empty at the height of the season I received a steely reply. "It's not empty, just look at the beach." I did; it's empty. I received more honest answers from a well-informed docent. Despite herculean efforts, tourism has not returned to pre-Ike levels. Even more sobering was the statement by a spokesman at the Galveston Historical Foundation that the post Ike population has been reduced by 40%. That's a financially devastating number.
Yet on this July 2011 visit I found Galveston charming. Restoration progress has been historic. The city boasts both film and live theaters. Museums are open. The Medical Center did not close. Gorgeous 19th and early 20th century structures are being reused. Graceful mansions are once more family homes. The tragic loss of towering shady live oak trees has been transformed into dozens of tree trunk sculptures that dot the landscape. The café and restaurant scene is the most vibrant I've experienced on the Texas Gulf coast (await Part II of my Galveston articles). The beaches may still leave much to be desired, but the friendly, tenacious and vibrant city of Galveston is rising again out of its watery depth.
Marc d'Entremont - Years of experience as a chef, historian and teacher guides my travel and food writing. I explore all things that shape a culture.
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