DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker has to say about the Hancock Springs Bathhouse in Lampasas County. Now, before there were highways and rest stops and gas station kolaches, the way you lured travelers to your little corner of Texas was simple: you needed a miracle. Or at least something that looked like one.
In Lampasas, they had mineral springs. Pioneer settlers started laying down roots near Lampasas Springs and Sulphur Creek back in the 1850s. And somewhere along the way, word got out about those springs — about their curative powers, about waters that could do things for a body that nothing else could.
The stories traveled, the way good stories do, and before long tourists were making the trip to Lampasas from far and wide. People were calling the place the Saratoga of the South, drawing a comparison to the famed spa community up in New York. That's the kind of reputation that tends to attract attention.
And then, in 1882, the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railroad extended its line all the way to Lampasas, and suddenly the floodgates opened — not literally, not yet — and capital investors came right along with the rail. Hotels went up. Tourist facilities followed.
The place was humming. Also in 1882, land right here at this site changed hands. It sold from the John and George Hancock family to George L.
Porter of Harris County, and Porter transferred it over to the Lampasas Springs Company. Now the company got to work. They built a bathhouse — proper changing rooms, facilities for hot and cold baths, bathing pools for men and women both.
And if that weren't enough, they also erected the Grand Park Hotel, situated northwest of the bathhouse. Then they strung the whole operation together with a mule-drawn streetcar that ran from the bathhouse clear across town to the passenger depot. A mule-drawn streetcar.
In Lampasas, Texas. Those were ambitious times. But here's where Sulphur Creek enters the story with a little less charm.
The creek, fed by those very springs, has flooded several times since the bathhouse went up. And by 1920, the roof of the facility was gone — possibly carried off by floodwaters. Possibly.
The marker doesn't say for certain, and that word possibly has always struck me as doing a lot of work. A whole roof, vanished. The limestone walls, though — those held.
Limestone has a way of outlasting almost everything else, and these walls were no exception. Years passed. The Grand Park Hotel, the mule car, the tourist boom — all of it faded.
Then in 1936, the city of Lampasas purchased the land and turned to those springs for something more practical: supplying water to the community. The springs that once anchored the whole local economy now kept the taps running. And today, those turquoise waters sit inside a city park.
The limestone walls of the old bathhouse — stabilized by the city in 2003, in an effort to preserve what remains — still stand right where the Lampasas Springs Company built them. The springs were the foundation of an economy once. Now the marker calls them historical treasures.
Same water. Different kind of worth.
What the marker says
Hancock Springs Bathhouse. Pioneer settlers began establishing homes near Lampasas Springs and Sulphur Creek in the 1850s. During the middle 19th century, stories of the mineral springs and their curative powers began attracting tourists to Lampasas, which was sometimes called the “Saratoga of the South,” in reference to the famed New York spa community. The Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railroad extended its line to Lampasas in 1882, making travel to the area easier, and with the rail came capital investors who quickly built hotels and tourist facilities. In 1882, land at this site was sold from the John and George Hancock family to George L. Porter of Harris County who transferred the property to the Lampasas Springs Company. The company built a bathhouse here, creating changing rooms, facilities for hot and cold baths, and bathing pools for men and women. The company also erected the Grand Park Hotel, which was located northwest of the bathhouse. A mule-drawn streetcar connected the bathhouse with the passenger depot on the other side of town. Sulphur Creek, which is fed by the springs, has flooded several times since construction of the bathhouse, and the roof of the facility was gone by 1920, possibly carried away by floodwaters. However, the limestone walls remained. In 1936, the city purchased the land and used the springs to supply water to the community. The turquoise waters of the pool, now part of a city park, demonstrate Lampasas’ history as a tourist destination. The springs were once the foundation of the economy in Lampasas and are now historical treasures of the community. The city, in an effort to preserve this history, stabilized the remaining bathhouse walls in 2003. (2004)