DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker says about one of Fort Worth's most infamous stretches of real estate — Hell's Half Acre. Now, they didn't call it Hell's Half Acre because it was a nice place to raise a family. This was Fort Worth's notorious red light district, and the story of how it got rollin' starts with iron rails.
When the Texas and Pacific Railway rolled into town in 1876, it launched a local economic boom — and Fort Worth became a magnet. Cowboys, buffalo hunters, railroad workers, freighters — hundreds of them, pourin' in, trail-dusty and ready to cut loose. And Fort Worth, well, Fort Worth was ready to oblige.
Between the Courthouse Square and the railroad depot, a whole world opened up. Saloons, dance halls, gambling houses, bordellos — a full complement of establishments designed to separate a working man from his wages and his worries. Now, you might wonder how all this operated so openly.
The marker's pretty plain about it: illegal activities in Hell's Half Acre were tolerated by city officials — tolerated — because of their importance to the town's economy. The district prospered through the 1880s, and Fort Worth's reputation as a rowdy frontier town grew right along with it. And the names that passed through those doors.
Luke Short. Bat Masterson. Wyatt Earp — famous gamblers, every one.
And then the other kind of famous: Sam Bass, Eugene Bunch, Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid. Outlaws, each of them, known to have spent time right here in Hell's Half Acre. You think about that crowd gathered in one district of one Texas town, and it's enough to make you check over your shoulder.
Of course, not everybody was charmed. By 1906, a newspaper headline was calling the district Fort Worth's — and I'm quotin' now — den of sin and refuge of criminals. That headline was, the marker tells us, representative of periodic efforts to clean the place up.
Periodic. Meaning they kept tryin', and it kept not workin'. Hell's Half Acre had outlasted the reformers, the editorials, the outrage — for decades.
But then came something bigger than civic disapproval. World War I. Camp Bowie was established here, and Army officials at Camp Bowie decided they'd had enough.
Working alongside local officials, they shut Hell's Half Acre down. The cowboys were long gone by then, the buffalo hunters a memory. But what the trail dust and the frontier economy had built, it took a war — and the United States Army — to finally close.
Hell's Half Acre. It gave Fort Worth a reputation it wore for forty years. Took the Army to collect it.
What the marker says
A notorious red light district known as Hell's Half Acre developed in this section of Fort Worth after the arrival of the Texas and Pacific Railway in 1876 launched a local economic boom. Fort Worth was soon the favorite destination for hundreds of cowboys, buffalo hunters, railroad workers, and freighters eager to wash off the trail dust and enjoy themselves. To meet the demand, a large number of saloons, dance halls, gambling houses, and bordellos opened between the Courthouse Square and the railroad depot. Illegal activities in Hell's Half Acre were tolerated by city officials because of their importance to the town's economy. The district prospered in the 1880s and added to Fort Worth's growing reputation as a rowdy frontier town. Famous gamblers Luke Short, Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp and outlaws Sam Bass, Eugene Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are known to have spent time in Hell's Half Acre. A 1906 newspaper headline calling the district Fort Worth's den of sin and refuge of criminals was representative of periodic efforts to clean up the district. These efforts proved unsuccessful until Army officials at Camp Bowie, established here during World War I, helped local officials shut the district down. (1993)