68
(0.010 km 2 ) of the city. The Acre was an important source
of income for the town, and despite outside pressures
against the illegal activities, Fort Worth officials were
reluctant to take action.
“The name (Hell’s Half Acre) first appeared in the
local newspaper in 1874, but by that time the district
was already well established on the lower end of town,
where it was the first thing the trail drivers saw as they
approached the town from the south. Here there was an
aggregation of one and two story saloons, dance halls,
and bawdy houses, interspersed with empty lots and a
sprinkling of legitimate businesses. Only those looking
for trouble or excitement ventured into the Acre. As one
headline put it in a description of a popular saloon there,
‘They Raise Merry Cain at the Waco Tap.’ Moreover,
the usual activities of the Acre, which included brawl-
ing, gambling, cockfighting, and horse racing, were not
confined to indoors but spilled out into the streets and
back alleys.” — Handbook of Texas Online
Of course not everyone “cottoned to” the dance halls
and brothels — they were more tolerant of the saloons
and gambling houses for some reason — and in time,
following serious outbreaks of violence from that sector of
the city, officials were pressed to shut down many of the
more unsavory activities the cowboys, outlaws and local
“sinners” loved so well.
This wave of reform, which ultimately brought about
Prohibition proved unstoppable. Attitudes shifted and
forbearance dwindled. One publication, The Home
Missionary, in March 1887, made their aim crystal clear:
“What are our plans? The arousing of public sentiment
till every saloon and gambling house is closed; but more
especially, at present, to offer counter-attractions.” These
counter-attractions were books and reading rooms —
“Don’t drink whisky and howl at the moon, come read
with us.” Hmm. One Charles E. Martin of Weatherford,
Texas, wrote the group to request books for a local
counter-attraction effort here, the success of which is
unknown.
“Drys, as the reformers were called, first animated
Texas politics in the 1840s. The drys sought measures
allowing voters in prescribed areas to declare prohibition
in effect: to pass so-called local-option laws for neighbor-
hoods, towns, cities, and counties. Eventually the drys
sought statewide prohibition and an amendment to the
United States Constitution declaring illegal the manu-
facture and sale of alcoholic beverages. In 1843, the
Republic of Texas had passed what may have been the
first local-option measure in North America. A Texas law
of 1845 banned saloons altogether. The law was never
enforced, however, and was repealed in 1856. The prohi-
bition controversy, however, did not disappear in either
Texas or the nation.” — Handbook of Texas Online
Thanks to local historian Henry Smythe, we have at
least one example of the calamity strong drink and loose
living could cause. In the 1860s, “one of the oldest citi-
zens was asked for his daughter’s hand in matrimony,”
wrote Smythe in his Historical Sketch of Parker County
and Weatherford, Texas (1877). “The old gentleman hesi-
tated and said: ‘I would gladly consent, but you drink too
Hell’s Half Acre
much whisky.’”
The young man told his prospective father-in-law that
he had the wrong end of the stick, that he was mistaken.
The older man told the younger that he’d been seen at
the “drunken row” on the Weatherford Square the night
before. The young man pleaded and explained till hoarse
that he’d not been involved in a “drunken row” but
simply a “night of fun.” One can imagine the glee in the
father’s face as he watched the young man squirm and
beg for his daughter’s hand. Whether convinced by the
suitor’s impassioned plea or not, at length he relented and
granted Thomas Lewis’s request. According to Smythe,
Mrs. Lewis died March 31, 1875, “in the glorious hope of
the redeemed through the pardoning love of the Savior.”
There is no record as to whether the widower returned to
the saloons or rows in Weatherford’s Square.
Horse racer and
train robber Sam
Bass (1851-1878)
and his gang were
known to hang
out in Hell’s Half
Acre, Fort Worth’s
“den of iniquity,”
notorious for it’s
saloons, gambling
houses and bawdy
establishments