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Taylor quietly takes the stage
To some extent, Taylor is the forgotten city of Central Texas.
Unlike its bustling, interwoven cousins over in western Williamson County, whose growth has matched each boom and bust, the easterly, self-contained Taylor has developed slowly, steadily, out of the limelight.
Even Hutto, very recently a wide curve on U.S. 79, has established its contemporary identity through modernized schools, proximity to Texas 130 and an aggressive infrastructure strategy.
Approaching Taylor from the west on U.S. 79, this small city maintains a rural feel, intended or not: A tiny barbecue joint sits opposite the modest God’s Way Christian Baptist Church. Even after 10 years in the Main Street revitalization program, and millions in investments, Taylor’s handsome downtown district still awaits uniform vibrancy and vigor.
It wasn’t always so. Bolstered by rich blackland prairies, its farms produced cotton, corn, wheat, oats and hay, while railroads encouraged commerce and industry. During World War II, Taylor attracted off-duty soldiers from Fort Hood to its lively entertainment district. Even as late as the 1970 U.S. Census, it claimed 25 percent of Williamson County’s total population, split among Czechs, Germans, Swedes, Latinos, African Americans and others.
Despite its historical importance, Taylor became comparatively isolated. Texas 130 has helped indirectly. CSC software developer John McDonald can telecommute and, if need be, join meetings in Austin easily; Taylor Chamber of Commerce director Thomas Martinez uses 130 often, saying: “I love the toll roads.”
I met McDonald, Martinez and city spokeswoman Jeanne Johnson for the grand opening of the Taylor Regional Park and Sports Complex. Containing multiple sports facilities, it is flanked directly by farms, located on the northern edge of a commercial zone that includes big box stores and strip centers that make devout urbanites cringe, but often delight those who might otherwise be forced to drive dozens of miles to shop for necessities.
I was there to report on the reclaimed prairie and wetlands for the Austin American-Statesman’s Lady Bird’s Legacy wildflower project, which raises money to seed areas throughout Central Texas, but I also couldn’t help noticing the alterations in Taylor’s culture — previously sampled on drives to and from Mexia, where my parents lived for 20 years — that now blends rural, suburban and urban influences.
Part of my fresh conclusions were based on old observations: Taylor sits, barely, on the side of Texas that is more Southern than Southwestern, culturally. Racial tensions linger. Anti-crime campaigns in the past decades targeted a dodgy area on the south side of the railroad tracks. More recently, Taylor has popped up in the news — and not in a good way — regarding an immigrant detention center and local opposition to a trauma center for female veterans.
Yet Taylor is being remade in many positive ways. I sensed in my conversations at the new park a renewed connection to the rest of Central Texas and a more-than-cosmetic attention to social diversity.
“As a small city, we don’t have a lot of muscle or resources,” says McDonald, also a City Council member and the primary force behind the park. The lack of local muscle is why he turned to multiple nonprofits, businesses and governmental groups to compete the regional park and its natural areas. His efforts reflect an association not only with Austin but with the state and its unconventional assets.
“I’ve lived here all my life — 49 years,” says Martinez, who also serves on the school board. “Everybody here works together now. We’re a tight-knit group.”
Perhaps most remarkable to those who have not been paying attention: Taylor joined Austin’s biggest cultural party recently. The city’s Armadillo Hall hosted 50 or so musical acts during the South by Southwest Music Conference and Festival. So much for isolation.
Still, leaders are convinced that Taylor’s slightly sleepy character comes with lasting benefit: “Slow as it goes” allows for reflection enviable to an Austinite whose head is spinning with developments.
“You have time to react to things,” says Martinez. “Rather than: ‘Oh my God, we need to do something about this now!’ ”
“Taylor is a city with an actual sense of place,” says McDonald, who returned to his native city from Austin when his daughter was born. “Everything was here already. We were left with a wonderful cultural heritage.”
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