A City on Stilts: Galveston 1902-1912

Once again, Gulf Coast communities are ransacked by nature—it's a fact of life, reiterated by recent flooding in Louisiana, echoing disasters like Catrina, Rita, and Ike, or even older storms like Carla and the fateful 1900 storm. The anniversary of the latter approaches, and to illustrate the resolve of human spirit exhibited by Third Coast inhabitants, this piece is offered. 

The San Louis, the Schlitterbahn, and Moody Gardens are a few of the attractions many come to see and enjoy on Galveston Island. But few realize that the real attraction is right under their feet—the island itself. Galveston is a quiet monument to human spirit, sheer will, and an engineering feat comparable to anything in modern times.

The morning after the 1900 storm obliterated Galveston.

It’s a well-documented event—in 1900, a storm assaulted upper Texas coast, virtually obliterating the city of Galveston, killing almost 6000 people while erasing the center of commerce for the American southwest. Despite the catastrophe—which remains the worst natural disaster in US history­­—survivors refused to abandon their homes, determined to rebuild amidst disease, devastation, and death.

Technology was seen as the solution to every problem at the dawn of the 20th century. So Galvestonians devised an audacious and ingenious plan to protect the island from a similar disaster ever happening again: They would hold nature at bay with a 17-foot wall against the sea while raising the ground level of the entire city.

One section of sea wall from the island perspective.

One of the most impressive engineering feats ever attempted, they walled off the entire city; raised nearly every house, church, office building, even trees––all by as much as 17 feet. In her book, Against the Tide: The Battle for America's Beaches, author Cornelia Dean describes the lifting operation as one of sheer brawn.

“Laborers ran beams under the buildings and mounted them on screwjacks that burly men turned by hand. In this way, 2,156 buildings were laboriously hoisted, a quarter of an inch at a turn, until they reached the requisite height and new foundations could be built beneath them. Meanwhile, children climbed rickety catwalks to reach their schools; housewives hung their laundry from lines strung fifteen feet above the ground.”

Massive and heavy brick buildings such as the three hundred ton St. Patrick's Church were heaved into the air. Galvestonians attended masses amid the grunts of laborers muscling two hundred screwjacks below—in unison like so many oarsmen of a Roman galleon.

The result was akin to a titanic concrete form with every structure hovering over the emptiness within. That form was then flooded with silt. Even in an era of Herculean engineering, this daring plan stood out for its size, cost, and audacity. Elevated boardwalks were constructed to allow people to get around the city, which led to the nickname, "a city on stilts."

Fill was pumped below raised homes and buildings.

These projects were all in progress when Zeva Bradshaw Edworthy (1883-1954) photographed the island. This Kansas native came to Galveston in 1904, at the height of the city’s rebuilding period. The exhibit will feature his photography showing everyday street scenes, people swimming and visiting amusement parks, and the rebuilding efforts going on throughout the city. Galvestonians were simply dealing with extraordinary loss and the hardships of daily living. But these still found strength to celebrate life—they would swim at the beach or ride a Ferris wheels.

If Galveston symbolizes anything, it is the power of the human spirit to fuel perseverance and change.