DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. Now, everything worth anything in Texas seems to trace back to somewhere else — a name, a dream, a borrowed idea carried west in a saddlebag. The community of Monticello, up in Titus County, borrowed its very name from Thomas Jefferson's home in Virginia.
Somebody looked out at that East Texas land in the 1850s and thought, yes — that's the one. That's the name that fits. The government agreed something worth addressin' was happening out there, because on May 5, 1857, they awarded Monticello its own post office, with a man named Cicero J.
Corder serving as the first postmaster. Now that is a name that commands a room. Cicero J.
Corder. After him came Theodore Stiewig, who wasn't just movin' the mail — he was running the largest business in the whole community, a steam mill that hummed and groaned and announced itself to anyone within earshot. By the 1890s, Monticello had filled itself out some.
Stores, blacksmiths, two mills, two gins, a brick factory, and a school. Small, sure — but busy. The kind of place where everybody knew what everybody else was building, and probably had an opinion about it.
Now alongside all that commerce and craft, the people of Monticello were tending to something else entirely. The community historically supported two churches — Monticello Baptist and Spring Hill. And the minutes of the Rehoboth Baptist Association first put Monticello Baptist Church on the record in 1878.
That year, a man named E. Blanton was serving as pastor, and J.W. Barrow and E.Y.
Bynum were the messengers sent to the association meeting. The church in those early days met right on Bynum's own land. The congregation gathered where one of their own had said, come on — use what I've got.
Years passed. Decades, even. And in 1919, the congregation made a move.
W.P. and Stella Jones sold them one acre of ground, and the church set down roots here, on this spot. What happened next is the part of the story I want you to hold onto for a moment. About nineteen members decided to build the thing themselves.
They went out and donated pine trees — their own trees — and hauled that timber by mule-drawn wagons to Will Taylor's planing mill to be sawed into lumber. Then they turned around and built a church out of it. A wood frame sanctuary, cross-gabled, T-plan, with paired double-hung wood windows and shiplap wood siding.
Three months of work. Completed in November 1919. Nineteen people, mules, pine trees, and three months.
That building didn't just get constructed — it got willed into existence. The church settled into its role as a spiritual and social center, and it wore that role well for generations. In the 1950s, congregation members were sewing quilts — by hand, together — and donating them to the Texarkana Baptist Orphanage and the Lena Pope Home for Orphans in Fort Worth.
That's not fundraising. That's not a program. That's nineteen people — or their children, or their grandchildren — still showing up for each other and for strangers.
By the early 21st century, the land around Monticello had shifted its purpose. Recreational lakes moved in. Lignite mining moved in.
And quietly, steadily, the old community thinned out around the church until the church was one of the few historic resources left standing in Monticello. The congregation is still active. Services are held infrequently now, but they are held.
The Texas Historical Commission recorded it as a landmark in 2007. Sometimes a building outlasts the town that built it, and just keeps showing up anyway. That wood frame church, raised by nineteen pairs of hands from donated pines hauled by mules, is still there.
Still standing. Monticello may have gotten quieter, but that church hasn't finished saying what it has to say.
What the marker says
The community of Monticello dates from the 1850s and was named for Thomas Jefferson's home in Virginia. The government awarded a post office on May 5, 1857, with Cicero J. Corder as the first postmaster. Theodore Stiewig, a later postmaster, operated a steam mill which was the largest business in the community. The settlement remained small, and in the 1890s Monticello had stores, blacksmiths, two mills, two gins, a brick factory and a school. The community historically supported Monticello Baptist and Spring Hill churches. Minutes of the area Rehoboth Baptist Association first reference Monticello Baptist Church in 1878. That year, E. Blanton was pastor and J.W. Barrow and E.Y. Bynum were messengers to the association meeting. The church first met on Bynum's land, and in 1919 the congregation moved here, on one acre sold by W.P. and Stella Jones. A new church building was erected soon after. The wood frame sanctuary is a cross-gabled T-plan building with paired double-hung wood windows and shiplap wood siding. Congregation members donated pine trees, hauled by mule-drawn wagons to Will Taylor's planing mill to saw into lumber. About 19 members worked on the church and construction took three months to finish, being completed in November 1919. The church has been a spiritual and social center for the community since its founding. During the 1950s, church members sewed quilts donated to the Texarkana Baptist Orphanage and the Lena Pope Home for Orphans in Fort Worth. By the early 21st century, area land was being used for recreational lakes and lignite mining, and the church was one of few historic resources remaining in Monticello. The congregation remains active although church services are held infrequently. Recorded Texas Historic Landmark - 2007