In April 2020, I visited Downtown Fort Worth to explore and photograph architecture. I stumbled upon a Texas Historical Marker for Hell’s Half Acre that would ignite an interest in local history.
I always liked history as a kid, but often found it unrelatable. I remember a Texas history class in elementary school. The Alamo was the star of the curriculum, with local history tucked away as a mere footnote—if it was even mentioned at all. I assumed that nothing “history-worthy” happened around here because we didn’t learn about it in school.
Fast forward 30-something years. My journey into local history started almost by accident. I was in Downtown Fort Worth to photograph the buildings and cityscape on a quiet Sunday morning early in the pandemic. I practiced social distancing, though it was hardly necessary, as the area was nearly empty except for a few curious souls wandering around.
The best way to explore any area is on foot, so I kept walking and ended up near the Fort Worth Water Gardens and Convention Center. The Water Gardens were eerily quiet and abandoned that day—the water features were turned off, and no one was around. It would usually be filled with at least some people and noise, but not today.
I stumbled upon a Texas Historical Marker at the Fort Worth Water Gardens for “Hell’s Half Acre.” It wasn’t the first Texas Historical Marker I ever read, but it was the first to make me stop and take notice. Because no one was around, I took my time and read the text without interruption. My eyebrows were soon near the top of my head. What little local history I learned throughout my life definitely didn’t mention anything like this!
Hell’s Half Acre – Texas Historical Marker in Fort Worth
Hell’s Half Acre was an infamous red-light district in Fort Worth. It began around 1870, while its peak was generally from 1876 to 1901. The area lasted until about 1920—although noticeably tamer in its later years. Even so, the area wasn’t wholly revitalized until the 1960s. Packed with saloons, dance halls, gambling parlors, and brothels, it was a rough-and-tumble district defined by a seedy atmosphere of vice and vibrancy. The activities were generally tolerated—until things got violent, which they often did—as the area provided an economic boost to the town. Most frontier towns had some type of area for these activities, yet Fort Worth’s was surprisingly raucous and notorious, comparable to those in Denver, New Orleans, or San Francisco. Its location, size, longevity, and notoriety helped put Fort Worth on the map.
I’d seen enough Western movies to visualize what the area might have looked like, and I soon found myself daydreaming. Suddenly, I was in a different time and place, wandering the dusty streets of Hell’s Half Acre, seeing the sights, hearing the sounds, and immersed in a different world. It was surreal. After a few moments, the daydream slowly fizzled away, and I came back to reality. I blinked my eyes and looked around in wonder. I had no idea that something like this used to be in Fort Worth, especially where I was standing. The Fort Worth Water Gardens and Convention Center stand in a respectable part of town—and that was the intriguing part. The marriage of the past and present left me in awe. This area used to be filled with real-life characters from an old Western movie, yet it’s completely unrecognizable from its past. How could it be?
It must have been the right time and right place. Had the area been busy that day, I might not have stopped to read the historical marker or been able to daydream about it.
After learning about Hell’s Half Acre, I began to wonder what else was around here that I didn’t know about, especially in my hometown of Arlington. I soon discovered Top O’ Hill Terrace, Arlington Downs, and the Bankhead Highway, which have all become favored topics of mine. I had no idea Arlington’s history had things like this.
I learned that Top O’ Hill Terrace was known as “Vegas before Vegas.” It had an underground casino with secret rooms, tunnels, armed guards, and an allure that attracted the famous and infamous of the day. Arlington Downs was a horse racing track (and later auto racing) with outstanding facilities and packed grandstands even during the Great Depression. Both were in Arlington along the Bankhead Highway, the first all-weather route to connect the East and West Coasts of the U.S. Many other pieces of local history soon began to emerge. Learning about local history builds upon itself as things are intertwined and lead to one another. Hell’s Half Acre opened up a whole world that I never knew existed, and it continues to do so. About six months after reading that influential historical marker, I joined the Arlington Historical Society. The rest, as they say, is history.
My journey with local history may have started with the sordid and salacious backdrop of a red-light district, but it didn’t stop there. It led to so much more. And a Texas Historical Marker in Downtown Fort Worth—almost like a mirage in an urban desert—introduced me to it all. Today, I’m a staunch admirer of historical markers and local history. The two help tell our story, and what a fascinating story it is if you take the time to learn it. I now stop and read as many Texas Historical Markers that I can, as you never know what fascinating stories you might walk right past.
P.S.—I later read the book Hell’s Half Acre: The Life and Legend of a Red-Light District by Richard F. Selcer. It goes far beyond the content on the Texas Historical Marker. I have it in my personal library and highly recommend it!
YouTube: Hell’s Half Acre: A CBSN Dallas-Ft. Worth Special
Blog post and photo by Jason S. Sullivan, 10-05-23
Jason S. Sullivan 