Creepy Places in Tarrant County Texas
Way Of The Ray
Posted on Sun, Oct. 27, 2002
FRIGHT SITES
Some are small, some are tall, but all are creepy. A guide to Tarrant
County's scariest places, day or night.
By Malcolm Mayhew
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
You don't always need a ghost story or a scary costume or one of the
Halloween movies to get creeped out. Sometimes, all you need to do is
drive around the corner.
Fort Worth-Dallas is sprinkled with naturally creepy sights -- abandoned
buildings rotted by weather and neglect, old movie theaters whose only
patrons are dust and decay, amusement parks gutted by time. These sites
are indeed hair-raising, but there's an element of can't-look-away
fascination -- and, in some cases, historical significance that's been
integral to Fort Worth's evolution -- that lingers under their cracked
foundations and dilapidated facades.
To ring in Halloween, here's a look at seven of these spooky places in
Tarrant County. We were originally going to find 13 -- Halloween, bad
luck, get it? -- but after viewing them on particularly murky days (and
view is all you can do; most of these sites are not open to the public),
we cut it off at seven. We just got too freaked out.
Swift & Co. meatpacking plant
Creepy place location: It spans the 2300 blocks of Niles City Boulevard
and Packers Avenue, on the outskirts of the Fort Worth Stockyards.
What'll spook you: More than a dozen acres of deserted buildings in
various states of eerie disrepair(above). Nowhere to go, cables that
used to serve as building spines dangle like branches on a dead tree.
Red brick paths lead to nowhere. Shrubbery spirals around windowless
structures, creating ghostly shadows; you get the feeling you're being
watched.
History lesson: Along with the nearby Armour & Co., Swift played a
prominent role in Fort Worth's economy around the turn of the 20th
century.
"It's an extremely important part of Fort Worth history," says Libby
Willis, the former director of local organization National Trust for
Historic Preservation Southwest. "The cattle industry was so vital back
then. That's more than just old buildings. Those were the social glue of
Fort Worth."
Opened in 1902, Swift thrived for six decades, employing, at peak times,
up to 1,500 workers. Even though Swift was profitable, it was dogged by
high maintenance costs, changing technology and a shift toward rural
meatpacking markets, which led to its 1971 closing; Armour's demise
preceded it in 1962.
Ghost story: "You talk about creepy," says Sarah Biles, administrator
for the Stockyards Museum. "In the past, there was a problem with kids
getting in there and supposedly having satanic rituals, but you know how
stories go."
The big story was a fire in 1975 that "went on for at least a week,"
says Sullen Cox, a retired Fort Worth firefighter who fought the blaze.
"What you see left of those buildings is what happened then," he says.
Status: Stockyards Stations Partnership owns the property. Marketing
director Sherry McKenzie says future plans include "multifamily
community and mixed use." "Everything from housing and apartments to
shopping," she says. But nothing, McKenzie says, has been set in stone
yet.
Berachah Industrial Home cemetery
Creepy place location: In Doug Russell Park, in the 700 block of East
Mitchell Street, on the edge of the University of Texas at Arlington
campus.
What'll spook you: It looks almost empty when you first approach it --
there are only a couple of the visible headstones you usually associate
with a cemetery. Then you see them: lined up in long rows, tiny,
brick-sized stones at ground level that bear only the first names of
buried infants. Alfred. Josephine. Ruth. Infant No. 11. One of the
stones just says "Baby."
History lesson: According to the UTA library, the Rev. J.T. Upchurch
organized the Berachah Rescue Society in Waco in 1894 as a safe haven
for homeless girls and unwed mothers. Nine years later, at this site, he
opened the Berachah Industrial Home for the Redemption and Protection of
Erring Girls. Containing more than 80 graves, the cemetery was first
used in 1904 for the burial of Eunice Williams, one of the home's
residents. In 1935, the home shut down, but the site was used until 1942
as an orphanage run by Upchurch's daughter. Arlington State College
purchased the property in 1963.
Ghost story: Many of the buried babies died during a measles epidemic in
1914.
Status: Open to the public.
Texas & Pacific Warehouse
Creepy place location: 401 W. Lancaster Ave.
What'll spook you: The enormous art-deco T&P Warehouse sits on the
sidelines of downtown Fort Worth, with nothing to do but watch the
traffic race along Interstate 30. "It's so huge, so dark -- that, to me,
is a very scary place," says Christopher Ebert, chairman of the City of
Fort Worth Historical Cultural Landmarks Commission.
History lesson: The in-freight warehouse for the Texas & Pacific Railway
Terminal, this 8-story building was constructed in 1931 by P. O'Brien
Montgomery from the plans of Herman P. Koeppe of Fort Worth, the chief
designer for Wyatt C. Hedrick. With its inlaid panels of blue tile,
ornamental brickwork and polychrome brick, it is said to be one of the
greatest examples of the zigzag moderne art-deco style. It served as the
terminal's warehouse for four decades.
Ghost story: It's eerie enough to have been used as a haunted house.
Status: Privately owned by Cleopatra Inc. in Dallas.
TXU North Main Steam Electric Station
Creepy place location: At the intersection of 200 N.W. Fourth and 500 N.
Houston streets.
What'll spook you: Look to the north of downtown Fort Worth's twinkling
skyline and you'll see the skyscraping remnants of the TXU North Main
Steam Electric Station: twin smokestacks. Occasionally coughing up
smoke, they tower above this historical power plant, a collection of
rundown buildings and equipment that sprawl for 60 acres and date back
to the early 1900s. For a picture-perfect view, try the walkway along
the bridged section of 200 N. Main St.
History lesson: The plant was erected in 1912 and had two generators
with the capacity to produce 4,000 kilowatts each. During the decade,
additional units were added, increasing its power. In 1918, after
numerous generator beefing ups, a Star-Telegram article declared that
Fort Worth "could proudly claim that they have the largest power plant
in the Southwest."
"You can feel the history there," says Rand LaVonn, a TXU spokesman.
"It's amazing what has happened around the downtown area since that
plant first went in. It's been a key part of the growth of Fort Worth."
The plant was given a major overhaul in 1952, with a unit that could
generate 80,000 kilowatts. Over the years, more efficient power plants
have been built, decreasing its usefulness; today, it operates on a
seasonal basis.
Ghost story: LaVonn cites the flood of 1949 as a fairly frightening
experience. "Water rose to the bottom of the office windows," he said.
"Employees were told to row out or leave in any other manner they
could."
Status: During the height of the plant's operation, more than 100 people
worked there; now, when in its seasonal operation, it employees three.
"It operates in the summer, when more air conditioners run and there's
more need for electricity," LaVonn says. "It wakes up for four or five
months, then retires again."
New Isis Theater
Creepy place location: 2401 N. Main St.
What'll spook you: A dilapidated marquee that used to advertise movies
now plugs Stockyards nightclub shows, and a vertical neon sign that once
lit up North Main Street stands dark.
History lesson: Built to replace the original Isis Theater, erected in
1913 and destroyed by a 1935 fire, the New Isis opened March 27, 1936.
Manager J.C. Tidball set the theater apart from others by designing it
with blue and orange porcelain enameled metal coping. The theater, which
sat 920 people, was owned by the Tidball family until entrepreneur
Harold Griffith purchased it in 1970. Lack of business forced its 1988
closing.
Ghost story: In April 1942, it flooded; in 1995, it caught fire, along
with other historical Stockyards buildings.
Status: A for-sale sign still hangs on it. "Everyone talks about wanting
to buy it and restore it," says Biles from the Stockyards Museum. "And
then, nothing."
Montgomery Ward store
Creepy place location: 2600 W. Seventh St.
What'll spook you: Spread over 46 acres, this six-building complex is
anchored by the famed 8-story catalog house (detail above), which eyes
West Seventh Street. The Corvette-red neon sign that sits atop it was
turned off long ago, but plenty of spooky remnants remain, including
directional signs and, painted on the back of the building but now
cryptically fading, the word "Ward."
History lesson: One of the first national retailers to look beyond
downtown Fort Worth for business, Montgomery Ward opened on West Seventh
Street in 1928. "That was the beginning of surbanization for that area,"
says Willis, the former director of the National Trust for Historic
Preservation Southwest. "During World War I, Camp Bowie was a huge
training area. After the war, there was a rush to develop those
neighborhoods, so it was a great location.
"It was a touchstone of Fort Worth," she says. "That's where you went to
buy your first bike or get some candy or get a new dress. It was a
pivotal building."
Ghost story: The store survived the 1949 flood, the waters from which
rose up to the second floor and left permanent marks, but it was damaged
so severely in the 2000 tornado that the company decided to close it.
Status: Possibilities are many. Fort Worth residents are hopeful that
the building will be turned into apartments or condos. Still owned by
Montgomery Ward, its fate is unknown.
Putt Putt Golf and Games
Creepy place location: 747 N.E. Loop 820 in Hurst
What'll spook you: Once a bustling miniature-golf amusement facility,
this Putt Putt, visible from where N.E. Loop 820 zooms over Pipeline
Road, now stands desolate. The building has been boarded up, and the
golf green has been ripped out. Dead vines hang over a canopy where
people once tried for hole-in-ones. Course numbers and birthday-party
signs are coated in rust.
History lesson: Opened in 1975 and closed in 1993, when it took over the
larger Malibu Grand Prix just down the street.
"Two things went into the closing of that Putt Putt," says owner Ken
Smith. "The highway construction near North East Mall prevented people
from getting to us the way they had, and our customers wanted more. They
wanted go-kart tracks and batting cages. You give the customer what it
wants. We tried to make that an attractive place with shrubbery and
landscaping, and we put in some fountains. In the end, we knew it was
outdated."
Ghost story: "Homeless people broke the glass door and set up shop in
there," Smith says. "We had to put Sheetrock over the windows and doors.
So now it looks a little eerie."
Status: The property is for sale.
Star-Telegram research librarian Maryjane O'Halloran and staff writer
Alyson Ward contributed to this story.
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Malcolm Mayhew, (817) 390-7713 mma...@star-telegram.com