Cedron Cemetery and School

Duane's take

Here's how the official marker at Cedron Cemetery and School tells it, and I'll do my best to honor every word. Northeastern Bosque County. The 1850s.

Folks heading west through that stretch of Texas looked down at Cedron Creek, felt the pull of that fertile bottomland, and decided maybe they didn't need to go any further west after all. And just like that, a community started taking root. Now, the first thing new neighbors tend to do — before they've even sorted out whose fence line is whose — is build something together.

Out here, that something was a one-room schoolhouse, framed up in cedar. One room. And because one room has to earn its keep on the frontier, that little cedar building pulled triple duty: school by the week, church on Sunday, and community gathering hall whenever the occasion called for it.

That is a hardworking building, friend. Time rolled on, as it does, and by the 1930s that original cedar structure gave way to a newer frame building. Same arrangement, though — school, church, community center all rolled into one.

Then 1938 came around, and the school was consolidated with other area schools, and eventually the building itself was dismantled. Gone. Nothing left now but the foundation, sitting quiet in the grass.

About a half mile west of where that schoolhouse stood, the community had established a cemetery on adjacent land. And here is where the story gets solemn. The oldest marked grave in that cemetery belongs to a school teacher — J.

T. Hungerford, born 1844, died 1880. The marker calls him the apparent victim of tuberculosis.

A schoolteacher, laid to rest in the community he'd taught. And then, just a few days after Hungerford's death, another resident — Susan J. Arnold, born 1845, also died 1880 — was buried in that same graveyard.

Two neighbors. The same year. Just days apart.

That cemetery, barely begun, was already holding the weight of the community's grief. Many area citizens have been interred there since. But the Cedron vicinity is quiet now.

Few residents remain. The creek still runs through fertile land, same as it did when those westbound travelers first stopped and said, this'll do. But the school is gone.

The community that built it is mostly gone. What's left is a foundation, and a cemetery about a half mile west, and the names carved into stone — Hungerford, Arnold, and others who made a life out here when there wasn't much else but cedar trees and good soil and each other. Some places leave a big mark on the map.

Cedron left a quiet one. But it's there if you know where to look.

What the marker says

Settlement of northeastern Bosque County began in the 1850s, as people traveling west through the area were attracted to the fertile lands along Cedron Creek. Among the first community projects of the new neighbors was the construction of a school building. A one-room cedar structure, it was also used for church and social gatherings. The original schoolhouse was replaced in the 1930s by a newer frame structure. Like its predecessor, it also served as a church and community center. The school was consolidated with other area schools in 1938, and the building later was dismantled. A community cemetery (about one-half miles west) was established on land adjacent to the school building. Although there may have been earlier, undocumented burials, the oldest marked grave is that of school teacher J. T. Hungerford (1844-1880), the apparent victim of tuberculosis. A few days after Hungerford's death, another community resident, Susan J. Arnold (1845-1880) was also buried in the graveyard. Since that time many area citizens have been interred there. Few residents remain in the Cedron vicinity. The cemetery and school building foundation are the last visible reminders of a once-thriving rural community. (1990)