A sign marks the land where the Rev. W.L. Dickson founded the Dickson Orphanage, an orphanage in Gilmer for black children. (Sarah A. Miller/Tyler Morning Telegraph)

GILMER – A mysterious graveyard near a busy Gilmer intersection is seeing sunlight this spring for the first time in decades.

The historic site was largely forgotten, until recently, amid a thick bramble of dense undergrowth and timber that protected it from mischief and removed it from the public’s consciousness.

Some in the community suspect at least 25 people, including babies, are interred there, but there are no cemetery records to suggest the contrary.

All are believed connected to the old Dickson Orphanage, recalled as the state’s only home for black children between 1901 and about 1943.

It was home to hundreds of youngsters adrift in the world, except largely for each other and a kindly minister who cared about their future until his death.

The facility was shuttered in the 1940s and the children sent elsewhere to start new lives in an unfamiliar city far away, leaving their dead and memories behind.

There are few reminders of this largely unfamiliar chapter in Gilmer’s history, save for a state marker, old photographs, two crumbling headstones and scattered remains of the unknown, buried and then lost amid the passage of time.

But who are they? And how did they come to this final resting place?

“We have no idea,” said local history buff Eddie Turner, one of several helping preserve the site. “Everything is gone. There are no cemetery records that we can find, and we don’t know who is buried there.”

 

RECALLING THE FORGOTTEN

Eddie Turner and his two brothers, Gene and Wilson, along with their friend, Huey Mitchell, are among a group of locals concerned about protecting the graves.

The old cemetery is a stone’s throw from a heavily traveled state intersection and a popular Gilmer eatery, Bubba’s Fat Burger and James Brown BBQ Kitchen, beloved for savory seasoned beef and friendly faces.

The men are securing a state marker to commemorate the site they, and many others, view as a sad chapter in the lives of many innocents.

“It’s the history of Gilmer, it was here,” Eddie Turner said. “The little babies had no idea what was going on. Let’s not forget them.”

History recalls the orphanage by several different names, including the State Colored Orphans Home, according to an online report from the Texas State Historical Association.

It operated as a private endeavor, based on plans executed by the Rev. R.C. Buckner and supported by Dallas-based Baptist organizations and donors.

The Rev. W.L. Dickson assisted in the efforts and eventually became the face of the facility, due largely to his fierce determination to provide the youngsters with a safe, comfortable, Godly home and vocational training, so they could grow up to lead satisfying, productive lives.

Gilmer was selected as the preferred site for the orphanage, created on a 70-acre tract purchased from Upshur County.

It opened in January 1901 under Buckner’s direction, operating as a private charity with fewer than a dozen children.

The project grew over time, as did the number of youngsters in its care – more than 200 within the first five years.

Dickson, who apparently had no biological children of his own, took over duties as its top administrator in 1906 and carried the post for roughly 25 years.

He made certain the orphanage was largely self sufficient with its own school and farm.

Boys received instruction in trades and girls focused on home economics, offered by the all-black, full-time staff of educators.

Children could remain at the facility until they were adopted, “indentured by some good religious families” or turned 21, according to published historical accounts.

Dickson encouraged the youngsters to explore the arts, hiring a choir director to teach them spiritual hymns and showcasing their talents at area churches.

He acquired more land over the years to expand operations, adding as examples, dorms, a domestic science building, a laundry, cook house, smoke house, cotton shed, mill house, lumber shed, nail house, potato curing plant, bakery and other structures.

Eventually, health complications forced a change in Dickson’s role.

He became ill in 1929 and sought different avenues for care, including a trip to Hot Springs, Arkansas, where he apparently became stranded.

Upon learning the ailing pastor was adrift in Arkansas, people in Gilmer rallied to rescue.

“This tells you something about the community,” Eddie Turner said. “The white and black community came together, raised funds and brought Mr. Dickson home.”

In spite of best efforts, Dickson’s health continued to falter and he eventually went to live with relatives in Hearne, Texas.

 

‘ALL THEY HAD’

By that time, the orphanage and farmland encompassed close to 700 acres with about several dozen structures, but like the administrator’s health, a slow, steady decline was well underway.

The facility was in debt and conditions were deteriorating.

Local merchants stepped in with donations of shoes and clothing to ensure the children were properly attired, according to early news accounts.

Dickson made trips to Dallas in hopes of securing financial support, drawing criticism from some locals who questioned the necessity of being away from his post.

As the struggle grew increasingly dire, an idea was hatched to let the state take over operations.

A state investigating committee subsequently paid a visit to survey the situation before making recommendations to the Texas Legislature.

Among the findings, “… the buildings were poorly kept up and the dormitories were crowded. They also reported that on that date, May 6, 1929, the orphanage was using coal oil lamps and water from wells,” according to a historical account published in an Aug. 15, 1968, issue of the Gilmer Mirror.

Lawmakers hesitated at first to take over the orphanage, due to its affordability, condition and location, prompting a pledge from local entities to generate money to pay off its debts.

The state eventually accepted the orphanage with the goal of one day relocating the school to Austin.

Dickson resigned in late 1929 and died a few years later at the age of 68.

G.W. Couch and P.J. Rowe assumed the role of administrators after Dickson’s departure, but the funding woes continued as subsequent panels of Texas lawmakers declined to approve funding to recondition and fireproof the buildings.

By 1943, the state closed the doors and moved the children to the Texas Blind, Deaf and Orphan School in Austin.

The buildings and bulk of the land were sold the following year, with the remaining 72 acres going to the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, known today as Texas A&M University, to create a sweet potato farm.

Years later, the Turner men acknowledge it’s disheartening to think of uprooting children from their home.

“It was a sad thing,” Eddie Turner said. “It was all they had.”

 

FINDING, HONORING THE DEAD

On a recent sunny afternoon, Eddie Turner and his brothers gingerly walked to the location of the recently discovered headstones.

The trio all grew up in the area and lived elsewhere for a while before returning to pour energy into the community.  

They started looking for the graveyard after hearing stories about the orphanage and its lost cemetery.

A search of appraisal records revealed an approximate location, prompting a series of physical searches last summer that ended in success.

“When I walked up and started coming through the briars and the bushes, I saw the side of it,” Wilson Turner said of the find. “I said, ‘Bingo guys, here it is.’”

Underneath a thick canopy of vines, he located an old headstone, identifying the resting place of J.W. Washington, June 7, 1869-March 22, 1921.

A stone’s throw away, they located a rusting funeral marker and a second headstone for Sallie Dixon, 1871-1927.

Scattered throughout the estimated half-acre site were dozens of indentions, signifying the likely presence of graves, the men said.

Community members galvanized to help rescue the graves from the forest, including but not limited to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Third Ward, Moses Chapel Church and First United Methodist Church of Gilmer.

During a recent visit, numerous crosses were lined up in a tidy row, a gift from Mrs. Johnny Mae Carter, who wanted a remembrance for each person buried there.

“They are just scattered out through here,” Gene Turner said, pointing to an area designated for babies. “To me, this was personal.”

It’s hoped the awarding of a historic marker will preserve and honor the grounds.

Other plans in the works include putting up a fence and creating appropriate access for visitors.

“It’s a wonderful feeling and the people of Upshur County know we did the right thing,” Wilson Turner said.

 

THE WORK CONTINUES

Local historian Bill Starnes has been researching black cemeteries for years after moving to the area and discovering many are not documented.

He scouted the area in the 1990s and recorded the cemetery’s approximate locale, sharing his findings with the Turners and others curious about local history.

“A lot of people didn’t realize how prominent Mr. Dickson was around the state,” Starnes said, citing early accounts that describe the minister giving speeches to large audiences, some numbering in the thousands.

He has a 1923 map that depicts a layout of the orphanage and its many components, which includes a baby cottage.

Starnes volunteered with the Historic Upshur Museum and obtained copies of old photographs to hang in his restaurant, Walking S Steakhouse near Lake Gilmer, as a way to educate others and spark conversations about local history.

“Rev. Dickson’s portrait is the only individual portrait I have hanging in one area,” he said. “Rev. Dickson is a hero for all that he did.”

What remains unclear, however, is the whereabouts of Dickson’s final resting place.

“I can’t find his grave,” Starnes said. “He’s buried in Hearne, Texas, but I haven’t located it.”

There’s another aspect of the story that piques the historian’s interest: the timing of the orphanage’s opening, which happened roughly four months after a September 1900 Category 4 Hurricane churned through Galveston.

More than 6,000 people died in that hurricane, including almost 100 orphans from St. Mary’s Orphans Asylum, according to The 1900 Storm website recalling the disaster. Is it possible some of those storm victims were among the youngsters who found comfort at the orphanage?

Starnes said he doesn’t have an answer to that question, but when it comes to history, he doesn’t discount anything.

“You have to think of the era,” he said. “This (orphanage) was a safe haven; you like to think of it that way, anyway. Who knows what kind of situations those kids were in before they came there? It makes you feel good those kids were not just turned out on the streets.”

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