Post by Morgan Sierra on Jun 16, 2011 19:41:27 GMT -6
Saratoga of the South
Modern day Lampasas is a charming little town of about 7000 people nestled deep in the heart of the Texas hill country. It is the seat of Lampasas County and sports a beautiful French-style limestone courthouse. It also has a Walmart, a McDonald's and a main street business district. In the name of progress the people recently voted to increase their golf course from nine holes to eighteen. On the surface there is nothing about this unpretentious little community to suggest an illustrious past, but the fact is that Lampasas was once the most famous health resort west of the Mississippi.
The Town's claim to fame is based on a collection of natural mineral water springs that bubble up from deep within the earth. In the nineteenth century these springs were known far and wide for their incredible healing powers. Many miraculous cures were said to have originated from the cool mineral waters and over time thousands of people from all over the world journeyed to Lampasas to sample its medicinal properties. At the height of its popularity the city rivaled other major resorts such as Hot Springs, Arkansas and Saratoga Springs, New York, and it even garnered the nickname "Saratoga of the South." Its future as a major tourist attraction seemed assured.
People had actually been drawn to the springs in Central Texas since prehistoric times. Many native American tribes held annual pilgrimages to the mystical place of the life-giving waters where they would bathe in the spring and drink the mineral water to cure a variety of ills and insure future health. While in the vicinity of the springs all weapons would be laid down and all disputes set aside. The indians considered the place to be sacred and it was forbidden to spill blood on the ground. This would later prove to be their undoing when the European settlers moved into the area for the new arrivals did not share their reverence.
The Spaniards first discovered the springs in 1721 while on an expedition to East Texas. They named the place Lampasas which was supposedly based on the native word for "water lily," since at that time the clear pools were covered with them. From the indians the soldiers also learned of the health-giving properties of the water and they quickly spread the news throughout the land.
In 1853 a settler named Moses Hughes carried his ailing wife to the springs in the hopes that the stories might be true. They built a small house in the vicinity of one of the larger pools and took up residence there. Mrs. Hughes drank the sulfur water from the springs and quickly showed remarkable improvement. Within weeks she had regained her health entirely and news of the miracle spread. Travelers began camping by the springs and filling bottles with the wonderful water which was said the cure everything from arthritis to tuberculosis.
While most of the stories may have been exaggerated there is some scientific basis for the claim that some Texas mineral water does indeed have medicinal properties. Supposedly, minute amounts of the minerals in the water are absorbed through a person's skin and can help cure certain types of ailments. This is especially true of water with an extremely high sulfur content like that at the springs. Sulfur is used by many physicians today to treat many types of ailments such as arthritis, psoriasis, and even certain types of cancer. In addition, the therapeutic benefits of soaking in both hot and cold water are well documented. Bathing stimulates blood circulation which increases the body's oxygen intake as well as helping to remove waste products. This same effect can also be achieved by drinking the water, so it seems as if the claims of the early Lampasans may not have been so far-fetched after all. Regardless, the fame of the area's healing water attracted people by the hundreds and soon a tent community had sprung up around the springs.
By 1865 as many as 1500 people were camping in the area and many had built permanent houses of rough hewn logs or native limestone. Five years later the population had doubled and more continued to arrive to taste the magic of the springs. The growing population soon drew the attention of outside businesses.
Attracted by the continuous torrent of health seekers and the fact that Lampasas had long been known as "the only watering place in Texas," the Gulf Central and Santa Fe Railroad extended its line to the growing community. Their eventual goal was transcontinental but the popularity of the springs convinced the rail-builders to take a short hiatus of a few years and make Lampasas the westward terminus of the line. The town's population responded by exploding to upwards of 20,000 people, most of whom were migrant workers or travelers heading further west. A few enterprising businessmen saw potential in the little health resort and plans were drawn up to begin promoting it as a major spa, equal in reputation to the most famous resorts in the world.
In 1883 a syndicate of wealthy man from Galveston, all employees of the GC&SF Railroad, began construction of a large motel and resort to serve the tourists. The end result was a palatial structure called the Park Hotel. This magnificent building was 331 feet long and two stories high with broad, bannistered porches surrounding each floor. It contained 200 guest rooms, and was well furnished with electric lighting and call bells in each room. At the time it was built it was the largest and most elegant wood-frame hotel in Texas.
Surrounding the hotel were 200 acres of wooded parkland complete with guest cottages and a bandstand with covered pavilion. A beautiful creek tranquilly whirled and eddied its way through the tall oaks and provided a picturesque backdrop for carriage rides through the park. A small dam created a shallow lake for boating and fishing, and many nights couples would gather along the banks to dance or waltz to the tune of a gold-braided orchestra, which was available to perform almost every night.
Daylight hours were usually spent in the mineral water baths. The bathhouses were built of native stone, one for ladies, another for gentlemen, each with a pool measuring forty by sixty feet wide and three to five feet deep. In addition there were smaller tubs and private pools which could be heated to any desired temperature, and there was another small pool for children. All in an idealistically romantic setting. Add in the healing powers of the sulfur water and the place must have been a veritable Utopia.
On the other side of town and about a mile from the Park Hotel was another resort area called the Hannah Springs Convention Center. This spa was built more for the needs of the general public rather than the upper crust Park Hotel patrons, but it was still extremely elegant. Its centerpiece was a massive bathhouse with reception room, dance hall and orchestra pit, plus a cavernous central hall measuring 60 by 120 feet. Built from huge timbers without any central support beams, the hall was ideal for weddings, dances, theater productions and religious revivals. One year it even hosted the Democratic State Convention chiefly because it was the only building in the state of Texas that was large enough to hold the congregation while still providing an unobstructed view for the audience.
The convention center maintained a number of bathing rooms as well, each of which could be heated by a portable boiler, or the townspeople could frolic in one of several large pools. In addition, the Hannah Springs area served as a camping place for transitional residents who were waiting for houses to be built, or who had just come to visit the springs. Always there was a line of people filling bottles and jugs with the magical healing waters.
As people continued to be lured to the area by the springs, numerous other attractions were built to greet them. A swank opera house complete with leather chairs and a Victorian stage was built for first class entertainment, and a race track and horse stable provided for the rest. There were also numerous hotels, dance halls, a roller skating rink, and a mule-drawn streetcar to provide scenic rides through the center of town.
The town also supported two colleges and several smaller schools, and provided a scenic location for weekend field trips from Baylor College in Belton, as well as other area schools. With the influx of students came a reputation as "the education center of Texas."
By the late 1880s adds were being run in papers across the country inviting people to "come to Lampasas to drink the health giving mineral waters and meet the socially correct." The Santa Fe Railroad ran weekend excursion trains up from Galveston, and during the summer months they offered special rates from points all over the country for anyone wanting to journey to Lampasas....and the people kept coming. It seemed as if everybody in the world wanted a taste of the "Saratoga of the South."
The steady torrent of people surprised even the GC&SF and the Park Hotel syndicate, who had profited beyond their wildest dreams, but somehow they seemed to know that the good times could not go on forever.
In 1885 the Hotel syndicate sold the fabulous Park Hotel and a few months later the railroad began construction on a line further west towards Brownwood. Along with the railroad went the migrant workers and speculators, and the population of Lampasas began to subside. The decline in population caused a decline in business and a local depression began. What normally would only have been a minor financial crises quickly turned catastrophic.
The rash of construction begun during the "boomtown" days left many new buildings standing empty and unused. With fewer and fewer customers to serve them businesses faltered and the economy quickly collapsed. A bank failed, new companies went bankrupt, and once thriving hotels closed their doors because of a lack of customers. Then the fires started.
The Globe Hotel, a three-story cathedral-like structure with the only elevator in the county mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground. That blaze was quickly followed by several others, including a men's furnishing store, a newspaper office, a candy store and a vacant building. Another newly-built hotel was reduced to ashes, and the plush opera house with its leather chairs and painted stage belched smoke so thickly that firefighters could not even find the building until it was too late to do anything to save it.
In one year there were at least seven major fires and in most cases the buildings were heavily insured. The blazes always seemed to ignite in the wee hours of the morning, and in one instance, before one of the more destructive infernos, a shadowy figure was witnessed running away from the scene. This prompted the local people to demand an end to the madness, and with the aid of the authorities a group of lawless characters were rounded up and escorted out of town. The destruction slowed but the damage had already been done.
The downtown area was nothing but a mess of charred and blackened wreckage with only empty frame skeletons where once thriving businesses had stood. The economy had collapsed completely and people began leaving the city in droves. Lampasas' days as a health resort were numbered.
The famous Park Hotel, once the most popular place in Texas, struggled to eke out an existence. It remained open on a seasonal basis for a few years but eventually it also was forced to close its doors permanently. The building was leased for a time to one of the local colleges until one cold winter night in 1895, when the ground was covered with snow and all of the water pipes were frozen, when it too started burning.
The fire quickly spread throughout the wooden structure, and with no water available, the beleaguered fire department could do little more than watch as one of the largest, most elegant hotels in the country went up in a blaze of glory. The fire lit up the countryside for miles around and could be seen from towns as far as thirty miles away. As the black smoke rose up into the darkened night it carried all of the hopes and dreams of the people with it...and with that, the "Saratoga of the South" was no more.
Still, the town continued to struggle on. Buildings were rebuilt, the economy revived and life continued. Even after more fires in later years, and several catastrophic floods, the town still managed to survive. Perhaps the springs had something to do with it.
Since the very beginning people had been attracted to Lampasas by the miraculous properties attributed to its health-giving waters. Maybe one of those properties was the gift of strength and fortitude to withstand the greatest of adversities. It may have been fire that almost destroyed the town but it was water that gave it life, and which originally attracted the people whose descendants are still there today.
The springs are still there also, bubbling quietly up from the ground just like they were when Lampasas was the greatest health resort west of the Mississippi. A subtle reminder of what was once the Saratoga of the South.
Modern day Lampasas is a charming little town of about 7000 people nestled deep in the heart of the Texas hill country. It is the seat of Lampasas County and sports a beautiful French-style limestone courthouse. It also has a Walmart, a McDonald's and a main street business district. In the name of progress the people recently voted to increase their golf course from nine holes to eighteen. On the surface there is nothing about this unpretentious little community to suggest an illustrious past, but the fact is that Lampasas was once the most famous health resort west of the Mississippi.
The Town's claim to fame is based on a collection of natural mineral water springs that bubble up from deep within the earth. In the nineteenth century these springs were known far and wide for their incredible healing powers. Many miraculous cures were said to have originated from the cool mineral waters and over time thousands of people from all over the world journeyed to Lampasas to sample its medicinal properties. At the height of its popularity the city rivaled other major resorts such as Hot Springs, Arkansas and Saratoga Springs, New York, and it even garnered the nickname "Saratoga of the South." Its future as a major tourist attraction seemed assured.
People had actually been drawn to the springs in Central Texas since prehistoric times. Many native American tribes held annual pilgrimages to the mystical place of the life-giving waters where they would bathe in the spring and drink the mineral water to cure a variety of ills and insure future health. While in the vicinity of the springs all weapons would be laid down and all disputes set aside. The indians considered the place to be sacred and it was forbidden to spill blood on the ground. This would later prove to be their undoing when the European settlers moved into the area for the new arrivals did not share their reverence.
The Spaniards first discovered the springs in 1721 while on an expedition to East Texas. They named the place Lampasas which was supposedly based on the native word for "water lily," since at that time the clear pools were covered with them. From the indians the soldiers also learned of the health-giving properties of the water and they quickly spread the news throughout the land.
In 1853 a settler named Moses Hughes carried his ailing wife to the springs in the hopes that the stories might be true. They built a small house in the vicinity of one of the larger pools and took up residence there. Mrs. Hughes drank the sulfur water from the springs and quickly showed remarkable improvement. Within weeks she had regained her health entirely and news of the miracle spread. Travelers began camping by the springs and filling bottles with the wonderful water which was said the cure everything from arthritis to tuberculosis.
While most of the stories may have been exaggerated there is some scientific basis for the claim that some Texas mineral water does indeed have medicinal properties. Supposedly, minute amounts of the minerals in the water are absorbed through a person's skin and can help cure certain types of ailments. This is especially true of water with an extremely high sulfur content like that at the springs. Sulfur is used by many physicians today to treat many types of ailments such as arthritis, psoriasis, and even certain types of cancer. In addition, the therapeutic benefits of soaking in both hot and cold water are well documented. Bathing stimulates blood circulation which increases the body's oxygen intake as well as helping to remove waste products. This same effect can also be achieved by drinking the water, so it seems as if the claims of the early Lampasans may not have been so far-fetched after all. Regardless, the fame of the area's healing water attracted people by the hundreds and soon a tent community had sprung up around the springs.
By 1865 as many as 1500 people were camping in the area and many had built permanent houses of rough hewn logs or native limestone. Five years later the population had doubled and more continued to arrive to taste the magic of the springs. The growing population soon drew the attention of outside businesses.
Attracted by the continuous torrent of health seekers and the fact that Lampasas had long been known as "the only watering place in Texas," the Gulf Central and Santa Fe Railroad extended its line to the growing community. Their eventual goal was transcontinental but the popularity of the springs convinced the rail-builders to take a short hiatus of a few years and make Lampasas the westward terminus of the line. The town's population responded by exploding to upwards of 20,000 people, most of whom were migrant workers or travelers heading further west. A few enterprising businessmen saw potential in the little health resort and plans were drawn up to begin promoting it as a major spa, equal in reputation to the most famous resorts in the world.
In 1883 a syndicate of wealthy man from Galveston, all employees of the GC&SF Railroad, began construction of a large motel and resort to serve the tourists. The end result was a palatial structure called the Park Hotel. This magnificent building was 331 feet long and two stories high with broad, bannistered porches surrounding each floor. It contained 200 guest rooms, and was well furnished with electric lighting and call bells in each room. At the time it was built it was the largest and most elegant wood-frame hotel in Texas.
Surrounding the hotel were 200 acres of wooded parkland complete with guest cottages and a bandstand with covered pavilion. A beautiful creek tranquilly whirled and eddied its way through the tall oaks and provided a picturesque backdrop for carriage rides through the park. A small dam created a shallow lake for boating and fishing, and many nights couples would gather along the banks to dance or waltz to the tune of a gold-braided orchestra, which was available to perform almost every night.
Daylight hours were usually spent in the mineral water baths. The bathhouses were built of native stone, one for ladies, another for gentlemen, each with a pool measuring forty by sixty feet wide and three to five feet deep. In addition there were smaller tubs and private pools which could be heated to any desired temperature, and there was another small pool for children. All in an idealistically romantic setting. Add in the healing powers of the sulfur water and the place must have been a veritable Utopia.
On the other side of town and about a mile from the Park Hotel was another resort area called the Hannah Springs Convention Center. This spa was built more for the needs of the general public rather than the upper crust Park Hotel patrons, but it was still extremely elegant. Its centerpiece was a massive bathhouse with reception room, dance hall and orchestra pit, plus a cavernous central hall measuring 60 by 120 feet. Built from huge timbers without any central support beams, the hall was ideal for weddings, dances, theater productions and religious revivals. One year it even hosted the Democratic State Convention chiefly because it was the only building in the state of Texas that was large enough to hold the congregation while still providing an unobstructed view for the audience.
The convention center maintained a number of bathing rooms as well, each of which could be heated by a portable boiler, or the townspeople could frolic in one of several large pools. In addition, the Hannah Springs area served as a camping place for transitional residents who were waiting for houses to be built, or who had just come to visit the springs. Always there was a line of people filling bottles and jugs with the magical healing waters.
As people continued to be lured to the area by the springs, numerous other attractions were built to greet them. A swank opera house complete with leather chairs and a Victorian stage was built for first class entertainment, and a race track and horse stable provided for the rest. There were also numerous hotels, dance halls, a roller skating rink, and a mule-drawn streetcar to provide scenic rides through the center of town.
The town also supported two colleges and several smaller schools, and provided a scenic location for weekend field trips from Baylor College in Belton, as well as other area schools. With the influx of students came a reputation as "the education center of Texas."
By the late 1880s adds were being run in papers across the country inviting people to "come to Lampasas to drink the health giving mineral waters and meet the socially correct." The Santa Fe Railroad ran weekend excursion trains up from Galveston, and during the summer months they offered special rates from points all over the country for anyone wanting to journey to Lampasas....and the people kept coming. It seemed as if everybody in the world wanted a taste of the "Saratoga of the South."
The steady torrent of people surprised even the GC&SF and the Park Hotel syndicate, who had profited beyond their wildest dreams, but somehow they seemed to know that the good times could not go on forever.
In 1885 the Hotel syndicate sold the fabulous Park Hotel and a few months later the railroad began construction on a line further west towards Brownwood. Along with the railroad went the migrant workers and speculators, and the population of Lampasas began to subside. The decline in population caused a decline in business and a local depression began. What normally would only have been a minor financial crises quickly turned catastrophic.
The rash of construction begun during the "boomtown" days left many new buildings standing empty and unused. With fewer and fewer customers to serve them businesses faltered and the economy quickly collapsed. A bank failed, new companies went bankrupt, and once thriving hotels closed their doors because of a lack of customers. Then the fires started.
The Globe Hotel, a three-story cathedral-like structure with the only elevator in the county mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground. That blaze was quickly followed by several others, including a men's furnishing store, a newspaper office, a candy store and a vacant building. Another newly-built hotel was reduced to ashes, and the plush opera house with its leather chairs and painted stage belched smoke so thickly that firefighters could not even find the building until it was too late to do anything to save it.
In one year there were at least seven major fires and in most cases the buildings were heavily insured. The blazes always seemed to ignite in the wee hours of the morning, and in one instance, before one of the more destructive infernos, a shadowy figure was witnessed running away from the scene. This prompted the local people to demand an end to the madness, and with the aid of the authorities a group of lawless characters were rounded up and escorted out of town. The destruction slowed but the damage had already been done.
The downtown area was nothing but a mess of charred and blackened wreckage with only empty frame skeletons where once thriving businesses had stood. The economy had collapsed completely and people began leaving the city in droves. Lampasas' days as a health resort were numbered.
The famous Park Hotel, once the most popular place in Texas, struggled to eke out an existence. It remained open on a seasonal basis for a few years but eventually it also was forced to close its doors permanently. The building was leased for a time to one of the local colleges until one cold winter night in 1895, when the ground was covered with snow and all of the water pipes were frozen, when it too started burning.
The fire quickly spread throughout the wooden structure, and with no water available, the beleaguered fire department could do little more than watch as one of the largest, most elegant hotels in the country went up in a blaze of glory. The fire lit up the countryside for miles around and could be seen from towns as far as thirty miles away. As the black smoke rose up into the darkened night it carried all of the hopes and dreams of the people with it...and with that, the "Saratoga of the South" was no more.
Still, the town continued to struggle on. Buildings were rebuilt, the economy revived and life continued. Even after more fires in later years, and several catastrophic floods, the town still managed to survive. Perhaps the springs had something to do with it.
Since the very beginning people had been attracted to Lampasas by the miraculous properties attributed to its health-giving waters. Maybe one of those properties was the gift of strength and fortitude to withstand the greatest of adversities. It may have been fire that almost destroyed the town but it was water that gave it life, and which originally attracted the people whose descendants are still there today.
The springs are still there also, bubbling quietly up from the ground just like they were when Lampasas was the greatest health resort west of the Mississippi. A subtle reminder of what was once the Saratoga of the South.