(This next series of articles is about “Home,” however you define it. . . It’s where the heart is. . . It’s where our stories begin. It’s where we belong.)
In 1876 the Congress Avenue bridge was completed, finally tying together both sides of Austin with something sturdier than a ferry. South Congress Avenue unfurled far enough to build a working class neighborhood that would not be affected by the yet untamed Colorado River - now known as “Lady Bird Lake.” By 1912 Travis Heights was born, somewhat scrappy, and just out of reach of the big city’s polish.
Fast forward to 1974. My wife Beth and I bought a small house on East Monroe Street. We paid $17,500 – an amount that felt like a moonshot. We were freshly married and had just acquired solid, 40hour-a-week jobs, and decided that adulthood might be something you could fake if you bought a house. Our house was just a half block from Stacey Park and four blocks from Congress Avenue. Back then the neighborhood was an eclectic mix of essential businesses like Dan’s Hamburgers, a feed store, The Continental Club, and a motel where rooms rented by the hour. That section of South Congress switched identities after dark when the hookers and gawkers and people buying and selling drugs came out. That was the reason we were able to buy our house for less than it would cost on the other side of the river.
