Fort Davis, Texas: Civilizing the West

On our recent trip to Marfa and the Davis Mountains, my architect husband and I recently visited the historic restoration of Fort Davis. As a residential architect with a particular interest in historic preservation, Steve felt it a must to tour the National Park Service treasure. In the book, Texas Public Buildings of the 19th Century, Steve's favorite Texas Tech architecture professor, Willard B. Robinson, writes that the military played an enormous role in civilizing the wilderness, as well as having a spontaneous influence on the general development of communities in the state of Texas. Fort Davis is an exceptional example of these stations and is considered one of the best remaining examples of a frontier military post in the American Southwest. Named for Secretary of War Jefferson Davis, the post was located in a box canyon near Limpia Creek on the eastern side of the Davis Mountains.

Today, entering the restored barracks, it looks as though soldiers just walked outside to answer a bugle for morning roll call. Lining the walls are 26 bunks painted with a green, copper-based paint believed to repel insects and reduce infection. At the foot of each bunk hangs the name of a soldier living in the narrow horizontal barracks in the summer of 1884. Private Clagget's bunk is illustrative of the post soldier's life. His regulation gray blanket lies perfectly centered with box-folded edges. His blue cap rests squarely on a stiff pillow. A well-used bugle stands on the shelf above an adjacent bunk. Clagget was an older soldier, assigned the bunk near a large open window and a stove in recognition of his long-tenured service to the U.S. Army. A poker table with game cards laid out can still be seen beside the barracks fireplace.

The infirmary, currently in mid-restoration status, primarily cared for soldiers with tuberculosis, accidents, and attempted homicides, which took a significantly higher toll on troops than hostile tribes of Native Americans. According to historical records, some soldiers drank potent sotol and mescal, the liquor of indigenous plants, fueling many fights over gambling and women. Boredom may have been another source of soldier-upon-soldier conflict. One private writes in his journal, "I got tired of looking mules in the face from sunrise to sunset...thought there must be a better livin' in this world."

Ft. Davis remains as the best-preserved 19th-century military post in the Southwest. Its sensitive restoration allows visitors an opportunity to step into a time and place where a nation struggled to establish and maintain its identity. On this post, U.S. military forces attempted to mitigate bitter conflicts among Native Americans, freed slaves, frontiersmen and their families, emigrants, and opportunistic bandits, while at the same time attempting to preserve the founding beliefs of a young democracy. It reminds architects, particularly those engaged in historic preservation, of the role that built environments play in demonstrating our shared stories. As John Muir, Naturalist and father of our national parks once said, thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountain is going home; that wildness is necessity; that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. Steve and I found the truth of this statement in our restorative Ft. Davis visit, resting at the at the foot of "Sleeping Lion Mountain."