By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
No state in the U.S. is prouder of its history than Texas. You might get some argument from folks back East in, hell, maybe Massachusetts, but arguing with Yankees is easy — you can always tell a Texan, you just can't tell him (or her) much.
Anyhow, only God and the Texas Historical Commission know exactly how many historical markers lie within the state's 254 counties. But according to the atlas on the commission's Web site, there are between 150 and 200 in Harris County alone.
That means a whole lot of churches, cemeteries, schools, houses, architectural landmarks (Bayou Bend, the Gulf Building), historical sites Houstonians should know but probably don't (Camp Logan) and places that just have interesting names (Moonshine Hill, near Spring) have been marked. In other words, if you are at all interested in local history, don't make the same mistake Noise did and visit this Web site at work unless you have a couple of hours to kill. We didn't.
What you won't find on there are many historical markers that, besides the churches, have much to do with music at all. Houston's ignorance of its rich musical history, willful or otherwise, has long been a sore spot for those of us who grow weary of crying out in the wilderness that there's more to this city than oil, hospitals, food and freeways.
But things are looking up. Visit that Web site this time next year, and you'll find an entry for a new, long-overdue historical marker honoring a man who was arguably the greatest blues talent to ever call Houston home, Sam "Lightnin'" Hopkins. And for that, we have R. Eric Davis to thank.
Hopkins wasn't born here, but he lived in Houston for nearly 40 years, and he really did live here. Long before he was discovered by eventual fans such as Townes Van Zandt, Billy Gibbons, Bob Dylan, Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Beatles, Hopkins was a fixture at juke joints and dives across the Third Ward and along Dowling Street.
Hopkins died in 1982 and is buried across the Gulf Freeway from Third Ward in Forest Park Cemetery, where Davis, an Illinois native who moved to Houston with his family in 1993, and his daughter went to visit his grave one afternoon last summer. When they finally found it — it's nearly impossible unless you have very detailed instructions or an experienced guide — Davis was appalled that Hopkins's headstone was "about as big as this plate right here," he says, motioning to his half-eaten lunch at Pappas Bar-B-Q downtown, where he and Noise met up one afternoon last week.
Hopkins did have a few champions before Davis. Not long after his death, then-City Councilwoman Eleanor Tinsley, who passed away last year, proposed naming a park after him, an idea many believe was scuttled because of the bluesman's reputation for drinking and gambling (and, just maybe, a little institutional racism). But no one had the patience to see the process all the way through until Davis, who discovered Hopkins's music when a colleague at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston gave him a cassette.
Davis describes the Hopkins marker's path to reality as a "series of waiting processes." After visiting Hopkins's grave, it only took him a couple of weeks to draft a proposal; after considering both Forest Park and the apartments near downtown where Hopkins lived for 25 years, he decided the marker should be located on the property of Project Row Houses in Third Ward, near one of Hopkins's favorite bus stops.
Project Row Houses, which featured the Hopkins-themed art installation "Thunderbolt Special" between fall 2008 and spring 2009, was only too happy to oblige. After that, Davis had to wait for the Harris County Historical Commission to approve his application and forward it to the state level. While waiting on that, knowing that the Texas Historical Commission is much more likely to approve applications that have the funds to pay for the markers than those that don't, he established the Lightnin' Hopkins Marker Fund.
He actually didn't have to wait long for the fund to reach its goal of about $1,800 — thanks to contributions from the Houston Blues Society and board member Jack Henderson, as well as donors from as far away as Illinois and California — but Davis isn't quite through waiting yet. The historical commission still has to approve the text he submitted for the marker (see "The King of Dowling Street"), as well as send him an official invoice for the monument's construction.
"I've never been so eager to write a check in my life," he says.
Davis hopes to have the marker paid for, built and in place by this coming September, but admits that may be a long shot. The marker fund is still accepting donations, this time for the dedication ceremony, at which he hopes to talk someone like Jimmie Vaughan into performing. House of Blues has expressed some interest in helping, he adds, but those discussions are at a very preliminary stage.