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| This
modest, yet noble structure sits on the recently overdrawn banks of
the San Marcos River just south of Luling.
It has a lot to be modest about, being a simple child's drawing of
a building, now without a roof. The only thing now noble about it
is the inscription BATHHOUSE carved above the door. |
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The
inscription once again sees the light of day
Photo by John Troesser, 2000 |
Designed
to be the center of river activities in Luling, the bathhouse was
given to the city on the occasion of Mr. Davis' big picnic. Edgar
Davis' picnic will be featured soon, along with the story of this
interesting and generous personality. He had the bathhouse designed
to withstand future floods of the capricious San Marcos. The reinforced
concrete later proved to be the structure's insurance policy against
demolition.
Mr. Davis' plan: while waiting for air-conditioning's arrival, the
bathhouse would be where teenagers would meet, mothers would cool
their heat-prickled infants and young men would show-off their swimming
prowess to young girls too concerned with their weight to notice.
Unfortunately, Mr. Davis also provided several thousand bottled drinks
to wash down the tons of barbecue, and many of the empty bottles were
broken when thrown into the river. Enough broken glass was produced
to cut the feet of bathers for generations to come.
So the generous gift sat unused for years, with plenty of time to
reflect on what would've been its salad (and watermelon) days. The
decorative iron grating that once matched the golf course clubhouse
was cut away by torch for the scrap drives of WWII.
Defaced by graffiti and worse, a decision was made by "the powers
that were" to raze the structure.
It was to be made a part of the San Marcos' banks, dozed by a bull
or it's mechanical equivalent. But our plucky little pillbox would
not go gently into that rubble pile, and withstood the best efforts
of diesel power and steel blade.
The people who play golf are used to aggravation, but eyesores they
can't stand. So they came up with a plan to bury the bathhouse. It
was done in no time at all and soon looked like a Mayan pyramid (to
a lesser diety). Weeds sprouted on the mound, but they were green
at least and sometimes they appeared healthier than the course's landscaping. |
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Chinaberries
sprouting from the windows
Photo by John Troesser, 2000 |
Enter
Mother Nature. The river rose and raged and some of Luling's best
sandy loam is now covering parts of DeWitt
County and flounders in the Gulf.
Like the man condemned to hang, but set free when the rope broke,
is Luling being told that they should preserve this sturdy gift from
Luling's past? If plowed into the dirt, will the Roman-looking inscription
confuse future archeologists? Will historians think early 20th Century
Pre-Schlitterbahn Lulingites advanced for building it? Or will they
think (very) early 21st Century Lulingites barbaric for razing it?
As water use becomes more restricted, we're sure the ingenuity of
Lulingites will devise a flood-proof stairwell to facilitate access
to the river from the little Bathhouse that asked for a second (and
third) chance. Besides, the broken glass has been swept away or at
least has been worn smooth by now. |
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The
recently unearthed bathhouse
Photo by John Troesser, 2000 |
While Luling's
larger population prevents its original use; it could still be a
concession stand or a headquarters building for a revenue-producing
non-profit organization like the Lion's Club tube rental operation
in San
Marcos.
We'll keep our preservation-minded viewers apprised.
© John
Troesser
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| Texas
Escapes, in its purpose to preserve historic, endangered and vanishing
Texas, asks that anyone wishing to share their local history and vintage/historic
photos, please contact
us. |
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