I have always been fascinated by and drawn to small towns, so when the opportunity to write a blog series came my way, it was only natural that the subject would revolve around chronicling how rapid population growth, changing preferences and values of our citizens, and technology might be changing small towns and the rural Texas landscape. To that end, I hit the road and began conducting windshield surveys, making notes of changes I observed and enriching my findings with research and interviews.
I quickly realized that I would be uncovering a lot more than expected.
Texas’ underlying history is fascinating, and I already have a much greater understanding of how patterns of population and economic growth have progressed and how those processes might be morphing.
In the 1800s, Texans traveled and engaged in commerce along known trails. Stop and read some of the roadside historical markets near major Texas’ rivers; you will find references to shallow, historically significant stretches of those streams to allow safe fording of the treacherous waters. In some cases, human- or mule-powered ferries were constructed for the most travelled or deeper crossings. Cattle trails also facilitated the movement of cattle from Mexico and South Texas through Oklahoma to destinations in Kansas, Nebraska, and points north and northeast. Most everyone has heard of the Chisolm, Western, Goodnight-Loving, and Shawnee Cattle trails. They are so ingrained in our past culture of cattle drives that some modern historians refer to them as cattle thoroughfares.
Railroads soon came along, concentrating the demand for shipping points and making some towns along those cattle trails winners and some obsolete in the game of economic progress.
Eventually, many of our current roadways overlaid these routes, and why not? That’s where towns sprang up and still exist today. And it wasn’t just cattle trails either. Jefferson in East Texas was once a significant port for shipping. Starting in 1845, the town monopolized the shipping of cotton by steamboat on the Red River to western markets. Cypress Bayou connected Jefferson to Caddo Lake, then to the Red River. It served markets 150 miles away until the 1870s, when steamboat trade waned. History opens our eyes to how patterns of population and economic expansion once worked and how they were replaced as new ways emerged.
For much of my lifetime, abundant energy and electric power was a given in Texas. The state’s ground, air, rail, and waterborne transportation dominated the economic development gameboard. Throw in copious natural resources, adequate capital at affordable prices, labor with the right skills, strong rights to private property, favorable vs. burdensome regulations and policies, stable political environment, entrepreneurial and managerial skills, and, perhaps most importantly, the freedom to take risks and pursue one’s dreams, and the formula for continued prosperity was in place.
However, some recent changes have altered the economic landscape.
Broadband Internet service—not just roads and diverse modes of travel and shipping—is now a necessity, because much of what we produce today are intellectual creations.
The ability to live in and work from the loneliest, most remote areas of Texas (a change accelerated by COVID) and have goods delivered by drone has and will continue to rearrange the patterns of growth and our lives. I have two personal friends living in areas like those, and technology has changed their lives by bringing the convenience of the city to them. And remember: artificial intelligence is just emerging. Few of us have any real handle on how much change this could usher in.
Fulshear, in Fort Bend County, is where I will start my surveys in earnest. I’ll pick up there next time on the road.
