The Future of Texan Plaques
The Texas Capitol is still home to politically incorrect Confederate memorials.

By James A. Cooley, senior correspondent, the Lone Star Report
July 3, 2001 9:10 a.m.

ven conservative Texas now faces increasing pressure to take a jackhammer to some of its more controversial monuments in and around the Capitol — particularly those related to its stint on the losing side of the Civil War. However, at least for the time being, a group of Confederate memorials exists that is sure to provoke hysterics from the politically correct crowd.

Of course, our state is no stranger to letting traditional conservative themes be expressed on government property. We still have a massive Ten Commandments carved into a granite slab on the Capitol grounds. A gift from the Fraternal Order of Eagles, it has been here since 1961. Despite being almost seven feet tall by four feet wide, the ACLU has somehow not discovered it.

The Boy Scouts of America supplied a scale model of the Statue of Liberty in 1951. The inscription praises our "forefathers" — another group on the outs with modern times — for the freedoms we possess.

Texas also believes in flaunting its proud military history. Veterans of the many wars and battles where Texans fought, from the Alamo to Vietnam, are honored here. The Texan attitude toward fighting for a cause was summed up nicely on the Alamo Memorial: God and Texas, victory or death.

The reverence extends to those who fought in gray uniforms more than a century ago. Confederate mementos abound in and around the Capitol.

One large 1901 monument to Confederate heroes who "Died for State's Rights guaranteed under the Constitution" can be found along the Great Walk in front of the Capitol. The memorial tallies the Civil War's cost in blood for both sides. The Confederates lost 437,000; the Union buried 485, 216.

Another monument on the East Grounds honors Hood's Texas Brigade, a group of Confederate army volunteers "Their ragged clothes make no difference; the enemy never sees their backs," declared Gen. Robert E. Lee.

The floor under the Capitol rotunda displays the seals of the six flags under which Texas has lived: the Kingdom of Spain, the Kingdom of France, the Republic of Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the Confederate States of America, and the United states of America. The same six seals appear above the main entrance.

One plaque installed in a corridor of the East Wing in 1959 displays the Children of the Confederacy Creed:

Because we desire to perpetuate in love and honor the heroic deeds of those who enlisted in the confederate army and upheld its flag in four years of war, we, the children of the south, have united together in an organization called "Children of the Confederacy," in which our strength, enthusiasm, and love of justice can exert its influence. We therefore pledge ourselves to preserve pure ideals; to honor our veterans; to study and teach the truths of history (one of the most important of which was that the war between the states was not a rebellion, nor was its underlying cause to sustain slavery), and to always act in a manner that will reflect honor upon our noble and patriotic ancestors.

Other confederate figures, some depicted in uniform, also grace the Capitol walls. Albert Sidney Johnston, a Confederate Army general who died at the Battle of Shiloh, gazes across the Senate Chambers. Ironically, within his view is a memorial portrait of former Texas state senator and U.S. Congresswoman Barbara Jordan.

Nor is he the only Confederate that shares wall space with historic figures from the other side of the philosophical aisle. Memorial portraits can also be found paying tribute to such civil-rights notables as President Lyndon Baines Johnson, Congressman Henry B. Gonzales, and even a Yankee triple-threat activist: the suffragette, abolitionist, temperance crusader Susan B. Anthony.

Our Capitol presents segments from all of Texas's history, including the less attractive parts. However, two small piece of our state's history were stripped away a year ago. It happened while our then-governor George W. Bush was in the thick of running for president and was under fire for supposedly being racially insensitive for opposing a hate-crimes bill.

Our Texas Supreme Court Building had two small plaques that dedicated it as a memorial to those who had served in the Confederacy. One plaque bore a Confederate Battle flag and quoted Gen. Robert E. Lee: "I rely upon Texas Regiments in all tight places, and fear I have to call upon them too often. They have fought grandly, nobly…." The other offending plaque bore the Great Seal of the Confederacy and described the structure as: "Dedicated to Texans who served in the Confederacy."

The plaques, in place since 1962, were apparently rediscovered just in time to become an issue in the presidential election. The NAACP, in particular, was not pleased and the Texas General Services Commission replaced the offending commemorative inscriptions. The first replacement plaque stated the following: "The Courts of Texas are entrusted with providing equal justice and the law to all persons regardless of race creed or color." The second offered an explanation, of sorts, for the original versions: "Because this building was built with monies from the Confederate Pension Fund, it was, at that time, designated as a memorial to the Texans who served in the Confederacy."

The story of the plaques' removal made the national news at the time. What is not known yet by the national media is that the plaque swap now faces the very real prospect of being undone.

The Texas Division of the Sons of Confederate Veterans recently filed a lawsuit (Sweeney v. Muse) on the matter. A look at their pleadings seems to indicate that they just might have a case. First, the group notes the decision to designate the building as a memorial to Confederate veterans was made by the Texas citizens in 1954 through a constructional amendment election. The relevant language from the proposal reads: "The first major structure erected from the State Building Fund shall be known and designated as a memorial to the Texans who served in the Armed Forces of the Confederate States of America, and shall be devoted to the use and occupancy of the Supreme Court…."

The law implementing the approved amendment was even more specific, stating the new Supreme Court Building "shall be known and properly designated by the State Building Commission as a memorial to the Texans who served in the Armed Services of the Confederate States of America, and a suitable cornerstone or plaque, or other proper means of designation, shall be integrated into the construction of the building to effectuate this memorial purpose."

The Texas constitutional language regarding the State Building Fund was later repealed in 1967 after the fund had served its purpose.

At issue is whether today's Texas officials and bureaucrats can decide — on their own — that memorials decreed by both voters and lawmakers of another generation can by discreetly carted away when their existence becomes awkward.

As for my take on the topic, I have a rather unique perspective. I was born and raised in Michigan, but have lived in Texas for almost 20 years now. As both a proud Yankee and an honorary Southerner, I hereby declare that the civil war is over. It's time to allow the dead on both sides to rest in honor and peace. Let their ancestors worry more about building our shared future than engaging in a pointless quest to erase the past.

Put back the old memorial plaques, but leave the new one in place that speaks of treating everybody equally before the law. Then add a plaque that quotes Abraham Lincoln on the topic of how the aftermath of the civil war should be resolved:

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan — to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.