DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker has to say about the Old Galveston Market House and City Hall. Now, before Galveston had grand hotels and electric streetcars, before it had much of anything in the way of civic polish, it had a market. Not a proper one, mind you — just an informal, outdoor affair that sprung up sometime in the 1830s in the half-block north of Market Street, between 20th and 21st streets.
Folks brought what they had, sold what they could, and the city got along just fine without formality. That changed in 1846. Mayor John Sydnor had a vision, and he hired a firm called Ives and Crow to build something worthy of a growing city.
What they put up was a two-hundred-and-sixty-foot long structure — set right in the center of 20th Street, running between Mechanic Street and Market Street. Colonial style, white frame, four dormer windows, and a roof cupola perched on top like a little crown. It wasn't just a market.
It was the city hall. The ground floor held thirty-four stalls — meat, vegetables, coffee — and across the street, a fish market handled its own commerce. The city offices lived upstairs, the police department tucked in alongside them, and a large public meeting hall rounded out the second floor.
When the building opened, Galvestonians didn't shake hands and go home. They threw a grand ball. And what stocked those stalls?
Produce, meat, fish, and other goods hauled in from the bay area on catboats that tied up at the nearby Brick and Kuhn's Wharves. It was a living, breathing hub — the kind of place a city revolves around before it even knows that's what it's doing. Before the Civil War, annual stall rents told you exactly where the money was.
Meat stalls ran as high as a hundred dollars a year. Fish stalls, on the low end, went for thirty-five. Demand pressed hard enough that the city added a hundred-foot extension just to meet it.
Then came the war. And October 7th, 1862, is a date worth pausing on. Galvestonians gathered inside that very market house and voted — voted — to peacefully accept Union occupation.
Whatever you make of that moment, it happened right there, under that cupola, in a building that had opened with a ball. The market house came through the Civil War without a scratch. That's more than a lot of things could say.
But fire came calling — once in 1865, once again in 1885 — and both times, the building survived. In 1867, a bell was installed in the cupola, ringing out the time of day to anyone in earshot. That's a small thing on paper, but in a city that size, a bell that tells the time is the city speaking to itself.
After the war, critics were less generous. The market house had grown run-down, they said, and expense kept getting in the way of doing anything about it. One of the last real improvements came in 1874, when the city installed pavers.
Not exactly a grand gesture. And then there was the episode in the 1870s — someone had the bright idea of using the attic as a holding cell. That experiment ended when a woman prisoner broke through the roof.
Through the roof. The attic never held another prisoner, and I suspect no one argued the point. By 1888, the old white frame building had run its course.
A new three-story stone structure rose in its place, and the 1846 market house stepped off the stage — forty-two years of produce stalls and city councils and grand balls and one very determined prisoner behind it. Some buildings just hold a city's whole story in their walls. That one held it in the roof, too.
What the marker says
During the 1830s, an informal, outdoor market started in the half-block north of Market Street between 20th and 21st streets. In 1846, mayor John Sydnor hired Ives and Crow to build a 260-foot long structure in the center of 20th Street between Mechanic (C) and Market (D) streets to serve both as a produce market and as the city hall. The Colonial style white frame building had four dormer windows and a roof cupola. The ground floor originally housed 34 meat, vegetable and coffee stalls, with the city offices, including the police department, and a large public meeting hall located on the second floor. A fish market operated across the street. Galvestonians celebrated the building's opening with a grand ball. The market stalls were stocked with produce, meat, fish and other goods brought in from the bay area on catboats that landed at the nearby Brick and Kuhn's Wharves. Before the Civil War, annual stall rents ranged from a high of $100 (meat) to a low of $35 (fish) and the city added a 100-foot extension to meet the demand for stalls. On Oct. 7, 1862, Galvestonians gathered in the market and voted to peacefully accept Union occupation. Having escaped damage during the Civil War, the market house survived serious threats from fire in 1865 and again in 1885. Installed in 1867, a bell in the cupola rang to tell the time of day. After the Civil War, critics found the market house run-down, but expense deterred renovation. One of the last improvements occurred in 1874 when the city installed pavers. An attempt to use the attic as a holding cell in the 1870s ended when a woman prisoner broke through the roof. In 1888, a new three-story stone building replaced the 1846 frame structure. (2014)