Searching for history in the Trans-Pecos town of Marathon

MARATHON - Driving from Houston or Austin (or from almost anywhere) to this scruffy, little town on the eastern edge of Big Bend territory is a long haul. As I’ve mentioned before, wife Laura and I bought a modest casita in the middle of town a few years ago, and one or both of us make the drive every few weeks. Headed west on Interstate 10, visor angled to block the setting sun, I envy Buddy the dog, who snoozes the whole way in the back of the SUV until he senses a downshift. Despite satellite radio, despite the rugged beauty of the Trans-Pecos, the last hundred miles or so are a drag. But then something happens. Coming down the hill on Highway 90 after hours behind the wheel, glimpsing the scattered lights of town in the midst of the Big Empty, I take a deep breath and begin to relax. I cruise past Brick Vault Brewery and Barbecue and the Gage Hotel’s White Buffalo Bar, looking for familiar vehicles. I swing by the French Grocery to check whether it’s Burger Night (featuring Chef Frank’s superb creations) or Live-Music night in the store’s backyard. A few blocks beyond the store, I pull up to the little red-roofed house on the corner of F and 6th and switch off the engine. Buddy comes to life. He stretches his gangly legs, preparing to leap out and torment Boots, the hardy neighborhood cat who’s usually there to greet us. It’s quiet. The air is fresh. I’m home. In 1998, Kathryn Jones wrote in Texas Monthly that something was happening in dusty, little Marathon. Urban expatriates had discovered the place and were buying crumbling adobes and transforming them into second homes. Artists were moving in; so were entrepreneurs. Celebrities were sighted. Jones reported that Jerry Hall, the Texas-born companion of rocker Mick Jagger at the time, dropped $5,000 in a three-hour shopping spree among local shops. A town that resembled countless other dwindling, dying Texas towns was coming back to life. Marathon, population maybe 400, has not become a West Texas Taos or a miniature Santa Fe, as some envisioned when Jones interviewed them nearly a quarter century ago, but it has stayed alive over the years. And now, something’s happening again. People are rediscovering the unpretentious, little community that’s proud to be the un-Marfa. Steph McDougal has been in town lately, trying to determine whether today’s Marathon is ready to take advantage of its 140-year history. A Houston-based historic preservation consultant, McDougal began a historic resources survey last fall. When it’s completed, the survey will help her determine whether enough tangible history remains for a designated national historic district or entries on the National Register of Historic Places. The town certainly has a history. It was laid out in 1886, shortly after the Southern Pacific railroad came through. Trains stopped for water at Marathon and to offload supplies for nearby Fort Pena Colorado, established in 1879 to protect settlers from Comanche and Apache raids. During the Mexican Revolution, Marathon was headquarters for U.S. Army troops sent to the area in case fighting spilled across the Rio Grande. A unit under the command of Capt. Douglas MacArthur arrived in 1911. McArthur’s company was replaced by troops under Lt. George S. Patton. In the heart of town, weed-choked and crumbling cattle pens next to the tracks are a reminder of Marathon’s role as a major shipping point for local ranchers. Across the track and Highway 90 is the Gage Hotel, built in 1927 by West Texas cattle baron and San Antonio banker Alfred Gage. A block north of the hotel is Captain Shepard House, a two-story colonial-style structure built in 1890 by the town’s founder, Albion E. Shepard. The retired sea captain named the town Marathon, because the landscape reminded him of Marathon, Greece. The challenge for McDougal and her team of architectural historians is to determine whether enough historic structures remain in cohesive areas to carve out a district or districts. In Marathon, a venerable adobe structure is likely to be separated from another notable structure by a modular home, a rusted-out and abandoned mobile home or a weed-choked lot that’s become the final resting place for a motley fleet of junk cars. At this point in her research, McDougal thinks she might be able to create two cohesive districts, one on each side of the track. The other challenge is to convince property owners and residents that historic designation offers advantages. A listing on the National Register or inclusion in a National Register historic district does not affect their property rights. It can provide financial benefits for some properties, including state and federal tax credits, state sales tax exemptions and eligibility for a variety of grants. McDougal, whose company is called McDoux Preservation LLC, will finish her research in the next few weeks. Property owners in a proposed district have the opportunity to voice support or opposition. McDougal got to know Marathon in 2020 when Gage Hotel owner J.P. Bryan asked her to shepherd the hotel property through the historic designation process. Bryan is also sponsoring the town’s effort. As Marathon’s longtime benevolent patron, so to speak, the hard-charging 80-year-old has to tread lightly, but he has no doubt the little town will benefit. “Historic designation means that tourists stay longer; they spend more money; it gives you one more thing to do in the area,” he told me over lunch recently at the V-6, the chic coffee shop connected to the Gage. “Property owners don’t have to do anything.” Often, the knee-jerk response is suspicion about government intrusion. So far, that hasn’t developed in Marathon. When McDougal went before the Brewster County Commissioners Court a couple of weeks ago, one commissioner expressed concern that historic designation would lead to incorporation, a sensitive issue in Marathon, but McDougal assured him that has never happened. Survey a mental map of Texas, and you’ll quickly realize the small towns that are thriving often have one thing in common. Whether it’s Fredericksburg in the Hill Country or Jefferson in northeast Texas, they’ve rediscovered their cultural and architectural heritage. That’s why they attract visitors. As we sat at a picnic table in the French Grocery backyard, McDougal mentioned a couple of other examples - fast-growing Georgetown, 30 miles north of Austin, and Belton, between Georgetown and Waco. In the early ‘80s, she explained, Georgetown began using tax credits to fix up historic buildings on the square. A dozen years later, enough buildings had been brought back into productive use that people began returning downtown. “Now, Georgetown is a destination,” she said. Belton, county seat of Bell County, rediscovered its history when McDougal conducted a historic resources survey in 2012. The small city on the picturesque Leon River has become, like Georgetown, a place that welcomes visitors who, in McDougal’s words, “want to learn something, eat something and buy something.” Marathon, it seems to me, has the eating and buying elements down, and historic designation will help with the learning. Heading east on I-10 the other day, mind wandering, I had another idea: Maybe we could haul those ’58 Chevy Impalas, ’51 Fords and other historic hulks out of the weed-choked lots, spiff them up a bit and park them along Highway 90 downtown, sort of like Amarillo’s Cadillac Ranch. My little adopted town, it seems to me, can be historic without taking itself too seriously. djholley10@gmail.com Twitter: holleynews

Searching for history in the Trans-Pecos town of Marathon

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