DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. The Crenshaw Family Cemetery, Galveston County. Pull over if you can — this one deserves a moment.
James A. Crenshaw came out of Virginia, fought through a Civil War, and apparently decided that wasn't enough adventure for one lifetime. In 1870, he married Henrietta Barker Elliott, over in Kentucky.
Two years later, the young couple packed up their first child and pointed themselves toward Bolivar Peninsula — that long, thin arm of land reaching out across the water from the mainland toward Galveston Island. And out there on that peninsula, they built a two-story house. A real one.
James took to farming and, not content to simply grow things, figured out how to move them too. He assembled a fleet — nine sailboats — and used every one of them to carry his produce across the water to the markets in Galveston. Nine sailboats.
That's not a farmer, that's a maritime operation with dirt under its fingernails. The family grew along with the enterprise. James and Henrietta eventually had ten children.
But life on the peninsula gave and it took. Two young daughters died — one in 1875, the other in 1882 — and the family laid them to rest right there, close to home, in a grove of oak trees. That grove became the Crenshaw family cemetery, iron fencing and all.
Then came September of 1900. The Galveston Hurricane — one of the deadliest storms in American history — came ashore and remade the entire region. The Crenshaw home survived.
Survived. Which tells you something about how James A. Crenshaw built things.
But surviving a storm and staying put after it are two different decisions. After the hurricane, the J.A. Crenshaws left the peninsula.
Two sons remained behind. Daughter Helen Crenshaw, in 1907, married Dr. Newell W.
Atkinson, down in Edna, Texas, and carried the family story forward in a new direction. The years rolled on. The iron fencing around that little cemetery in the oak grove gradually disappeared — piece by piece, as iron tends to do — all except for one portion that got swallowed up by a tree.
The land absorbed it. Literally. The burial ground itself stayed in family hands, though, all those years.
Then in 2003, two descendants of Helen and Newell Atkinson made a decision. They donated the land — cemetery included — to the Galveston Independent School District. And the school district maintains it now, tending those graves as what the marker calls a link to the early settlers of Bolivar Peninsula.
Two little girls buried under the oaks. A fleet of nine sailboats. A house that outlasted a hurricane.
And an iron fence, mostly gone — except for the piece a tree decided to keep. That's the Crenshaw story, and the peninsula remembers it.
What the marker says
Virginia native and Civil War veteran James A. Crenshaw wed Henrietta Barker Elliott in Kentucky in 1870. Two years later, with their first child, they moved to Bolivar Peninsula and constructed a two-story house in this vicinity. James, a successful farmer, transported his produce across the water to Galveston markets using his fleet of nine sailboats. The couple eventually had ten children; two young daughters died, one in 1875, the other in 1882, and the family buried them here in a grove of oak trees close to the house. The family's home survived the 1900 Galveston Hurricane; after the storm, the J.A. Crenshaws left the peninsula. Two sons remained, and daughter Helen Crenshaw wed Dr. Newell W. Atkinson in Edna, Texas, in 1907. The land containing the burial ground remained in family hands, but the iron fencing around the cemetery gradually disappeared except for a portion imbedded in a tree. In 2003, two descendants of Helen and Newell Atkinson donated land, including the burial ground, to the Galveston Independent School District, which maintains the historic cemetery as a link to early Bolivar settlers. Historic Texas Cemetery - 2004