Go on a Staycation!

Legends and lore: Secrets of North Texas

A glamorous Prohibition-era casino buried deep in a hillside in Arlington. Bonnie and Clyde. The inspiration for the Hollywood sign? Explore some local legends

By ALYSON WARD

award@star-telegram.com

Associated Press Archives/Ron Heflin

"Gone but not forgotten" reads Clyde Barrow’s gravestone, which is in Western Heights Cemetery in the Oak Cliff area of Dallas. Associated Press Archives/Ron Heflin

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We’re no dummies. We know you would rather be anywhere but here this week. It’s the middle of July, and there you are on the hot highways of the Metroplex, trying to work up some energy to go forward. You daydream about the beach, about the streets of Paris, about a road trip to the Grand Canyon.

But that is so not happening this summer. A road trip to the grocery store is enough to deplete the vacation funds, right?

The tourism people understand this. That’s why the Arlington Convention & Visitors bureau is promoting its "Staycation" packages this year, hoping we locals will stay in town and explore what our very own Metroplex has to offer.

We can get behind this idea. (Why not? We’ll be in town anyway.) We won’t call it a "staycation" because — well, we feel goofy when we say that. But thanks in large part to the Dallas/Fort Worth Area Tourism Council, we have tracked down some local legends and lore for you to explore — without having to drive too far.

You know about the water parks and the sports teams the area has to offer. But there are a few old stories you might not have heard — and a few things that are well worth checking out. So, until work is canceled and gas becomes free, here are five ways you can amaze yourself. Or at least amuse yourself on a hot summer afternoon — without having to travel far.

1 - Top O’ Hill Terrace, Arlington

The legend: Arlington once had the most celebrated — and most secret — casino in the United States. And the property now belongs to a Baptist college.

Is it true? Absolutely. In the 1930s and ’40s, Top O’ Hill Terrace, on the old Bankhead Highway, was considered the most fabulous casino in the United States. This was before Las Vegas became Las Vegas, of course, and Top O’ Hill attracted gamblers from all over the country.

It was glamorous, popular and completely illegal.

The gracious building, with a spectacular view from the hill, was intended to be simply a tearoom — a dining destination for locals and a welcome stop for travelers. But in 1926, Fred and Mary Browning purchased the property. They kept the restaurant and tea garden open, but the Brownings also did something else: They added a basement. Yes, the house was moved aside so an underground room could be built, a well-hidden space complete with secret passageways. And they turned that basement into a casino, open till the wee hours every night.

In anticipation of police raids, the casino was equipped with an escape tunnel and a secret room. It was a maze of hidden passageways and trap doors, two-way mirrors and false walls, all protected by gates and guards posted outside.

Deep inside this secret space were the roulette wheels and the blackjack tables, the dealers shuffling cards. But from the outside, you’d never know all this was going on, says Arlington Baptist College’s Vickie Bryant, who has researched the Top O’ Hill story.

Above ground, Top O’ Hill Terrace was a respectable restaurant in a beautiful space — a 46-acre property with formal gardens, fountains, horse stables. Many of the diners never knew what was happening just beneath their feet.

A successful raid (yes, despite all that security) shut down Top O’ Hill Terrace in 1947. But in its heyday, the lavish casino took in as much as $100,000 a night — far more on the weekends — and attracted stars like John Wayne, Will Rogers and Clark Gable.

All that drinking and gambling and prostitution was outrageous to J. Frank Norris, the longtime pastor of Fort Worth’s First Baptist Church. He called Top O’ Hill Terrace a "blight on Tarrant County" and vowed to take over the property and build a Bible institute there. In 1956, the casino was converted into the campus of Bible Baptist Seminary — which later became Arlington Baptist College.

See it: Bryant, historian and campus bookstore director, offers tours of the property by appointment. Set aside 1 1/2 to 2 hours to hear the Top O’ Hill story, complete with about 200 pictures and a walk over the grounds. Call 817-461-8741, ext. 109, a couple of days in advance to schedule; a $5 donation per person is requested.

Top O’ Hill Terrace is on the campus of Arlington Baptist College, 3001 W. Division St. in Arlington. Go to abconline.edu and click on "Top O’ Hill Terrace" in the "Campus Links" list.

2 - Welcome Mountain, Mineral Wells

The legend: There’s a sign in Mineral Wells that says "Welcome" in big, illuminated letters on the side of a hill. When D.W. Griffith, the movie director and producer, visited Mineral Wells in the 1920s, he saw the new sign. And he loved it so much that when he returned home to Hollywood, he decided to copy it. Thus the Mineral Wells "Welcome" sign was the inspiration for the famous Hollywood sign.

Is it true? No. Well, as far as we know.

The Mineral Wells sign was a gift to the city in 1922 from George Holmgreen, the founder of San Antonio’s Alamo Iron Works. It was the largest noncommercial electrical sign in the country, brightly lit with light bulbs that outlined the letters.

The Hollywood sign, meanwhile, was built in 1923 to promote the Hollywoodland housing development in suburban Los Angeles, and it became so popular, it lasted. (Originally, it said "Hollywoodland," but the "-land" portion came down in 1949.)

Here’s what we know: In its heyday, Mineral Wells "was one of the hot spots of its time to come and see and be seen," says Palin Bree, library manager for the city’s Boyce Ditto Public Library. A who’s-who of Hollywood came through town in those days, drawn by the famous curative power of the local mineral waters. So it’s possible that one of those California types did gain inspiration for the sign.

In fact, records indicate that Griffith did visit, Bree says. (Not that it matters. It turns out the Hollywood sign was built by Los Angeles Times publisher Harry Chandler — Hollywoodland was his real estate development.)

"Did someone see the sign and think 'What a terrific idea?’ " Bree says. "I don’t know."

"It’s dubious at best," she says. "But a lot of good stories are."

See it: The "Welcome" sign still greets visitors in Mineral Wells, though it’s been moved to Welcome Mountain (formerly Bald Mountain) so the sign can be seen from Texas 180.

The sign has been moved (from another hill) and restored more than once in its 86 years, says Christina Childs, tourism coordinator for the Mineral Wells Area Chamber of Commerce. And now, instead of neat rows of light bulbs, the sign is illuminated by floodlights at its base.

3 - The graves of Bonnie and Clyde, Dallas

The legend: Depression-era outlaws Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow are buried in Dallas.

Is it true? Absolutely — after all, they were both Texans, and their families lived nearby. But they’re not buried together.

Bonnie and Clyde’s kamikaze streak of bank robberies and gunfights is the stuff of legend. The FBI says the pair committed 13 murders, not to mention all the robberies, and Barrow was suspected of kidnapping. They managed to elude police and the FBI for years, but — well, you know how this ends. Both died May 23, 1934, when a posse of officers tracked them down in Louisiana, ambushed the pair on a highway and shot them both in a hail of gunfire.

Bonnie Parker is buried in Crown Hill Memorial Park in Dallas. Her unassuming headstone contains a couple of sweet lines from a poem she once wrote (yes, she wrote poetry in high school): "As the flowers are all made sweeter by the sunshine and the dew, / So this old world is made brighter by the lives of folks like you."

Clyde Barrow, meanwhile, is buried at Western Heights Cemetery in Dallas’ Oak Cliff neighborhood. He shares a headstone with his brother (and fellow outlaw) Buck, who died in a shootout in ’33. Their headstone reads: "Gone but not forgotten."

See it: Crown Hill Memorial Park is at 9718 Webb Chapel Road; Western Heights Cemetery is at 1617 Fort Worth Ave. For details about the exact locations of their graves, go to findagrave.com.

4 - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Fort Worth

The legend: After robbing a bank in Nevada, outlaw Butch Cassidy and his "Wild Bunch" came to Fort Worth in 1900. On a post-robbery high, they celebrated their success with some fancy new clothes, then had their picture taken at a local studio.

As the story goes, the gang liked the photo so much, they ordered 50 copies. Then, in a moment of overconfidence, they sent a copy to that bank they’d robbed in Nevada, just to taunt their victims. And — well, who didn’t see this coming? — the photo was soon plastered on "Wanted" posters all over. With the law coming after them, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid fled to South America. It was the beginning of the end; within a couple of years, much of the gang was dead or in prison. And Cassidy and Sundance were killed in a shootout in Bolivia in 1908 — or were they? No one knows for sure.

Is it true? The trip to Fort Worth was real. We have photographic evidence, after all. A turn-of-the-century photo of Cassidy and his "Wild Bunch" — bearing the imprint of John Swartz’s studio — sold for $85,000 at an auction in 2000. The photo shows five men — including Butch Cassidy (Robert LeRoy Parker) and the Sundance Kid (Henry Longabaugh) — looking dapper in new suits and derby hats. It seems they knew exactly how to pose for their own "Wanted" poster.

See it: In the early 1900s, the John Swartz studio was at 705 1/2 Main St. But nearby, an entire downtown district — Sundance Square — has been named to commemorate the legend.

5 - World’s second-longest-burning light bulb, Fort Worth

The legend: A light bulb in Fort Worth has been burning for 100 years with no sign of stopping.

Is it true? Yes. This incredible light bulb, still aglow at the Stockyards Museum, was first installed in September 1908 above a backstage door at the Byers Opera House on Seventh Street. The opera house later became the Palace Theatre, which was torn down in 1977 — but the bulb survived.

How do we know it’s that old? Because the folks at the opera house took meticulous records and made a note of every bulb replacement and equipment change, says Sarah Biles, Stockyards Museum administrator. We know exactly when it was installed and where. The staff took care of the bulb, too: once it started to look like a keeper, a stagehand posted a sign near the switch instructing that the bulb should be kept burning at all times.

"Finally, they had it wired to its own circuit so nobody could turn it off," Biles says. And it burned on, earning attention from Ripley’s Believe It or Not and from Paul Harvey, who wished it a happy birthday every year.

When the Palace was torn down, the property owner took the bulb home, where it burned for 14 more years. The bulb then landed at the Stockyards Museum, where it’s still burning (though dimly) in a display case.

This freak of electricity, known as the Palace Bulb, will hit 100 in September. But as crazy as it sounds, even this century-old bulb doesn’t hold the record. There’s a bulb at a fire station in Livermore, Calif., that’s been burning since 1901. (Check it out at www.centennialbulb.org.)What has made it last so long? It’s most likely just chance, Biles says. But she notes that "as best we can tell, it’s a Shelby brand light bulb." That’s the same brand as the 107-year-old bulb in California. They both lasted longer than the company that made them: Shelby Electric Company was acquired by General Electric in 1914.

See it: The bulb is on display at the Stockyards Museum, 131 E. Exchange Ave., Suite 113. The museum is open 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Saturday. Admission is free, though a donation of at least $2 is requested. Go to www.stockyardsmuseum.org.