DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker at Sacred Heart Catholic Church of Rowlett has to say — and friend, this one's worth pulling over for. Now, every good Texas story needs somebody who just decided to show up. In this case, that somebody was an Irishman named Patrick McEntee, born in 1846, who came to Texas in 1874 and never seemed to find a reason to leave.
He farmed. He ran a merchant operation. He helped build the railroad in this area.
The man kept busy. But somewhere underneath all that practical industry, McEntee was carrying something else — a devotion that would outlast every fence post he ever drove into Dallas County soil. Tradition holds that before there was any church at all, services were conducted right there in his home.
Picture that. Folks gathered in a farmhouse, hats in hand, doing the best they could with what they had. That's the seed of it.
That's where Sacred Heart Catholic Church of Rowlett begins — not with a bishop, not with a building fund, but with one man opening his front door. McEntee provided the land for the church and its cemetery. The building went up in 1899, and in 1900, Bishop E.
J. Dunne came out and made it official with a proper dedication. Now, here's a detail worth savoring: those thirteen stained glass windows — reputedly imported all the way from Germany as memorial tributes.
Thirteen windows, each one a remembrance. And the one nearest the altar? That one was donated by Bishop Dunne himself.
McEntee lived to see it all take root. He passed in 1921, but not before the parish's first baptism had already been recorded back in 1898 — his own grandchild. The second Catholic church organized in all of Dallas County, and it was christened, in a manner of speaking, by his family.
Now, if the story ended there, it'd already be a fine one. But 1922 rolls around, and the parishioners of Sacred Heart looked at their church and then looked at the new Bankhead Highway, and they made a decision that I promise you most congregations would never even consider. They turned the building around.
Not figuratively — literally. They physically rotated that church to face the highway and reset it on the original foundation. The cedar trees that had stood in front?
Well, now they're in back. The whole thing, flipped. That is a community that means business.
The decades rolled on. The Ladies of the Altar Society raised the funds for substantial remodeling of the Gothic Revival style edifice in 1955 and 1956. Then came harder times — population loss crept in and threatened to close the doors for good.
But newcomers began settling in the community, the membership grew, and Sacred Heart held on. Today, weekly mass is still celebrated there — for a fellowship that includes descendants of the very earliest families. The same families whose names are on those German windows.
Whose grandfather opened his home when there was no church to go to. Patrick McEntee came to Texas in 1874 with whatever he carried in his hands and whatever he carried in his chest. Turns out, one of those things had a very long reach.
What the marker says
Second Catholic church organized in Dallas County, Sacred Heart owes its origins to the devotion of an Irishman, Patrick McEntee (1846 - 1921), who came to Texas in 1874. Farmer and merchant, McEntee helped build the railroad in this area. Tradition holds that services were conducted at his home before this church was built. The parish's first baptism in 1898 was that of his grandchild. McEntee provided the land for Sacred Heart Church and cemetery. Built in 1899, this structure was dedicated in 1900 by Bishop E. J. Dunne. The thirteen stained glass windows were reputedly imported from Germany as memorial tributes. One near the altar was donated by Bishop Dunne. In 1922 parishioners resolved that their building should face the new Bankhead Highway. They turned it around and reset it on the original foundation. The cedars backing the church once stood in front. Ladies of the Altar Society raised the funds for substantial remodeling of the Gothic Revival style edifice in 1955-56. Population loss threatened to close the church, but the membership grew as newcomers settled in the community. Weekly mass is celebrated now for a fellowship which includes descendants of the earliest families.