I stumbled upon an interesting point as I researched U.S. State Capital Surnames. While Austin, Texas may have been the first and only capital of Texas once it became part of the United States, it was not the original or by any means the only capital of the Republic of Texas. This isn’t the first time I’ve been interesting in roving capitals. The distinction this time is that these towns were national capitals rather than state capitals. This independent nation, albeit short lived, had anywhere between four and eight capitals between 1836 and 1844, depending on how one defines "capital"
Washington-on-the-Brazos (March 1836)
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Washington-on-the-Brazos was not a permanent capital although it is a little more special than some of the other sites that followed, as noted by the Texas State Historical Association’s Texas Almanac. The town holds the distinction of being the "Birthplace of Texas." A convention of delegates met and adopted a Declaration of Independence at this location. March 2, 1836 was the Texas Republic equivalent of July 4, 1776 in the United States.
SOURCE: Runcer, on Flickr; via Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) license
The designation didn’t last long. Delegates toiled quickly, drafting their Declaration along with a Constitution, and then established an interim government that would serve until a proper democratic election could take place. They fled Washington-on-the-Brazos a couple of weeks later, March 17, as the Mexican army advanced upon them.
A replica of the Texas Republic’s Independence Hall can be found today at the Washington-on-the-Brazos State Historic Site
Capital on the Move (March 1836 – October 1836)
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The tides of war forced the capital, then a concept more than a physical place, to keep one step ahead of General Santa Anna and the Mexican troops. First it moved to Harrisburg. Then it transferred to the steamboat Cayuga for several days. The President and his cabinet didn’t offloaded at Galveston until after the Battle of San Jacinto assured a Texan victory. Next the capital moved to Velasco (now part of Freeport). Santa Anna, then a prisoner, was forced to sign the Treaties of Velasco on May 14 to recognize Texas independence. The capital remained in Velasco through October.
Columbia (October – December 1836)
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Columbia (now West Columbia) is often considered the first "real" capital of the Republic of Texas even though its reign, like the other sites, ended quickly. Three months. However this was the first capital site with an elected government. That simple fact elevates its importance. Here the Congress of the Republic of Texas met for the first time, and here, Sam Houston was inaugurated its first President. It was also here that Stephen F. Austin, who had been appointed to serve as Secretary of State passed away from pneumonia unexpectedly that December.
It was a humble capital. A reproduction of the capitol building standing near the West Columbia City Hall gets that point across rather effectively. An historical marker explains:
About 1833 Leman Kelsy built a story-and-a-half clapboard structure near this location. When Columbia became capital of the Republic of Texas in 1836, the building was one of two which housed the newly formed government. The First Republic of Texas Congress convened in Columbia… The 1900 storm destroyed the original capitol. The replica at this site was built in 1976-77.
The operative phrase is "near this location." The actual location almost became a Walgreens Pharmacy parking lot
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Notice the skinny ribbon with the star in the middle of it along E. Brazos Ave. This is a recognition of recent vintage. Concerned citizens decided that it would be a travesty to pave over a location of such obvious historic importance, the actual site of the original capitol of the Republic of Texas. Their efforts led to the linear-shaped Capitol of Texas Park: "The park includes a walking path with 21 stations, each consisting of a black granite monument depicting the people and events of the early Republic, and a central plaza which is representative of the Seal of the Republic."
Finally…
The rest of the story is anticlimactic. In December, president Houston moved the capital to Houston which sounds somewhat like a conflict of interest. However two years later a Capital Commission selected a new site at Waterloo, a town soon renamed Austin. It moved briefly back to Houston and finally back to Austin in 1844 where it’s remained ever since.
I’ve returned from Denver, Colorado.
While I found time to record a couple of oddities, the Denver International Airport and one of the Arapahoe Exclaves specifically, I did not exhaust the wish list I brought along with me. This was to be expected. I didn’t have much time each evening and little flexibility with my schedule during the day. I thought I’d share one final big-ticket item I wanted to document in person but will have to wait for a subsequent trip.
Denver’s nickname is the "Mile High City" for the obvious reason, because its elevation is indeed right around one mile or 5,280 feet (or 1,609 metres). This is quite evident as soon as an Eastern flatlander such as myself walks up a flight of steps on the day of arrival encumbered by luggage. I’d like to think of myself as being somewhat in shape and preferring to take the stairs for short distances but next time I’ll use the elevator until day two or three. It takes awhile for my brain to adjust to thinner oxygen at these higher elevations.
I wanted to confirm Denver’s mile-high claim by examining evidence available on the ground. I’m not doubting their assertion because the altitude is completely self-evident. It’s not an exaggeration or a marketing ploy. Rather I wondered whether this exact height had been memorialized anywhere. It’s an interesting little tidbit and I figured the local tourist board must have put up a sign or a plaque to amuse the visitors.
I stared with a quick Google search on the phrase, "exactly one mile high." That provided a good starting point with some solid candidates. Practically everything tracked back to Denver with the exception of a swinging bridge on Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina (which I also wouldn’t mind visiting someday). The difference is that in Denver everywhere is about a mile high, not just some out-of-the way park requiring a long drive and an admission fee.
Incidentally there are zero Google hits for "exactly one kilometer high" or its spelling variation, and yes I do realize that I’ve just ruined that by publishing this post. I suppose this happens because a kilometre of elevation isn’t all that remarkable (3,281 feet) or because this particular style of geo-oddity doesn’t resonate outside of the United States. Are there any armchair sociologists out there who want to offer an explanation or a theory? I have none.
There are at least two places in Denver, both easily accessible, that mark the mile-high elevation exactly and explicitly.
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The first location is the thirteenth step of the Colorado State Capitol building. Google Street View doesn’t have sufficient detail to show the marker but there are other places on the Intertubes where one can view a photograph. I’m kicking myself for this one because I spent an entire week in downtown Denver a couple of years ago and didn’t realized this marker existed. It would have been simple for me to record. This time I was staying way out in the suburbs so it would have been horribly inconvenient, and of course I didn’t get down there.
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Another opportunity would have been available at Coors Field, home of the Colorado Rockies baseball team. The Rockies were in town, we had some beautiful weather, it would have been a great night for baseball… and again I was way out in the ‘burbs. The seats in the 20th row of the upper deck are purposely colored purple although it’s impossible to see in the satellite photo because the lip of the stadium’s upper edge and the shadows that obscure it. Nonetheless the 20th row creates a band around the stadium at the mile-high mark. It’s visible on the Coors Field photo in Wikipedia. Notice the faint purple line right below the top edge. It provides a more literal meaning to the term "nosebleed section" than most of its major league counterparts.
Shifting Gears Just a Little
I noticed a peculiarity as I panned around the map of Denver while preparing this recent series of articles. Check this out:
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Does anyone know of a smaller occupied area completely surrounded by Interstate highway? This triangle, probably no more than a mile on any side, is enclosed by Interstates 25, 76 and 270. There are plenty of paths in-and-out so it’s not exactly isolated but I still find it fascinating. I can’t imagine how noisy it must feel with those highways so closely located on every side. This patch is primarily non-residential (except for maybe these guys) which is probably a good thing.
I’d be interested to know if someone can find a smaller enclosed area where the space is actually being occupied, either for business or residential purposes, that doesn’t involve an instance of someone refusing to sell their property when the highway comes through, i.e., a planned route rather than an individual accommodation.
I recently recorded a question of amazing specificity, what I’d call a hyper-local geographic oddity that’s probably of interest only to a handful of people. Fortunately I’m one of those very few souls and maybe you are too. I’ll tie it in with a little history to widen the audience just a bit, so stick with it for a paragraph or two and see if it grows on you. It’s still an interesting exercise. Here’s the question, rephrased for clarity:
Where would the line between Northwest and Southwest Washington be, if Arlington and Alexandria hadn’t returned to Virginia?
I love this question — the history, the geography, the hometown appeal. That’s pretty much a trifecta for me. The shill who left this question behind in my web logs deserves a percentage of the cut. His check is in the mail.
First the history. Two points are germane to understanding and appreciating the question.
- The foundation of the District of Columbia can be traced to the United States Constitution, Article 1 Section 8 as one of the Powers of Congress: "To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States…" That’s exactly what happened. Ten miles square (i.e., ten miles on a side, not ten square miles) came from land located formerly in Maryland and Virginia. The District filled a perfect diamond shape superimposed across the Potomac River.
- The portion of the District formerly belonging to Virginia returned to Virginia in 1847, an action called retrocession. I won’t go into further detail here except to skewer some local mythology and folklore once again. It had nothing to do with the Government thinking they would never need that much land. It was a two-punch combo of issues related to the economy and to slavery primarily. Even though Virginia regained the land, there are still many of the ancient, original Washington, DC boundary stones on the Virginia side of the river today.
Next, it’s useful to understand that the District of Columbia is split into quadrants: southeast; southwest; northeast; northwest. The dividing lines radiate from the center of the United States Capitol dome but they are not of equal sizes because the Capital wasn’t placed in the center of the city. Southwest is particularly diminutive.
SOURCE: Wikimedia Commons, in the public domain
Let’s draw some lines and answer the question. I’ve prepared a map that shows the original pre-1847 boundaries of the District of Columbia. The North-South quadrant line isn’t exactly straight but it’s irrelevant to the question so I haven’t included it. The East-West line is indeed straight so I’ve simply extended it across the Potomac River and into Virginia.
View Washington, DC Original Boundary in a larger map
Southwest Washington would be one of the largest quadrants rather than the absolute smallest if only the Federal government hadn’t returned the land to Virginia.
Most of you can tune out now. Those of you who know the area well, and I do know there are some regular readers that fit into that category, might actually have an interest in some of the neighborhoods that fall within either side of that fictional line.
View Washington, DC Original Boundary in a larger map
This is a closeup of a portion of the Rosslyn-Ballston corridor. The underground portion of the Metro’s Orange Line runs right through the area and has helped revitalize it over the last couple of decades. It looks like Rosslyn and Courhouse would be in the fictional Northwest extension while Clarendon and Ballston would be in fictional Southwest extension.
