Thoughts on Hometown History

Last  month, I went home to Texas for my mother's 50th birthday weekend. I had some downtime that Sunday morning while she was at church, and I took the opportunity to enjoy the balmy weather and my cute rental car to drive around and finally check out some of the historical markers around town.  Click here for some photos of the architecture and historical markers around Main Street. The markers themselves are an interesting study in public history. I can't help but to think about the messages they are sending about the key individuals and events in Texas history. I know that markers like these cannot possible give a comprehensive history of any given place, but I am always concerned about the things that are obscured in public memory. Taken as a whole, it's quite clear that there is a particular narrative these plaques intend to convey, and I wonder what that narrative means for future retellings of Texas history, especially given the disturbing trends in our public schools.

I grew up in Nacogdoches, the "Oldest Town in Texas." I've always thought that it was some odd twist of fate that a child as enamored with history as I would land in a town so blatantly obsessed with its origins. I suppose my interest was bolstered when I realized how the narrative reflected in the monuments and museums we visited on school field trips was meant to convey certain messages about Texas history. The stories we learned about Sam Houston, Antonio Gil Y'Barbo, and Thomas J. Rusk taught us that Texans were steadfast, brave, and industrious. We fought against tyranny and established thriving communities amidst great adversity. These characterizations were sort of a microcosm of the sanitized Founding Fathers narrative taught in US History classes. 

Statue of Antonio Gil Y'Barbo in Downtown Nacogdoches

Marker Near the Visitors' Center Commemorating the Battle of Nacogdoches

Just as our nation as a whole still struggles with memories of genocide, slavery, and discrimination in our historical narratives, so does Nacogdoches. Growing up, I noticed how teachers and docents stumbled around the presence of Native Americans in East Texas. I noticed how they awkwardly acknowledged that the Caddo had a significant village in/near Nacogdoches generations before Spain established a mission there in 1716 without really answering why that village ceased to exist. As my hometown has worked to preserve its narrative, it becomes clear how certain monuments, such as the Old Stone Fort, are meticulously cared for while others, such as EJ Campbell School, are barely standing. In little tourist-y towns like this, the past and the present sometimes stand uncomfortably close: My middle school was located on Mound Street, where ancient Native American burial mounds sit right next to beautiful old houses and shops. 

 
At some point in my career, I'm going to return home and do some serious research on East Texas African American history. I want to get involved with the African American Heritage Project of Nacogdoches if it's still in existence after I finish my dissertation. But for now, whenever I'm home, I'm going to try to explore a different part of Nacogdoches, especially now that I'm noticing that many lesser-known landmarks are falling into disrepair.