If you鈥檙e not looking for it, you might miss it. And if you鈥檙e not a UT Austin student, you probably don鈥檛 have much reason to pass by it at all.
Near the corner of West 24th Street and San Gabriel in West Campus, a 152-year-old stone building sits sandwiched in the middle of a new student apartment complex. Long ago it was the site of one of the first Black-led newspapers in the South, and today it鈥檚 the last remnant of Wheatville, a Black community that once thrived in Austin鈥檚 west side.
Some might call it a nail house or a holdout 鈥� a property that has endured as its surroundings have moved on and, well, up. A few years ago, a company bought the building鈥檚 neighboring properties (remember Tap 24?) and built a 140-unit apartment complex called HillTop. The stone building was protected through the city鈥檚 Historic Landmark status. Developers opted to build around it, and the complex now towers over it.
A small medallion on the front signals the building鈥檚 landmark status, but nothing on the structure gives insight into its past. The exact story behind it is hard to pinpoint.
鈥淥ne of the things that鈥檚 so interesting about Wheatville and about these Black communities is that trying to get the history straight is very difficult because the history has gone the way of the buildings themselves,鈥� says Edmund Gordon, an associate professor of African and African Diaspora Studies at UT Austin. 鈥淚n other words, they鈥檝e been erased, and that precise history is very difficult to come by.鈥�
The building has been a lot of things over the last two centuries: a grocery store, a church, a home, an oriental rug dealership, a barbecue joint, a construction site. It鈥檚 changed hands a lot, too. From formerly enslaved people to Italian immigrants to a restaurateur.
Now, it, along with the surrounding apartment complex, is owned, in part, by a real estate investment trust. And soon it will meet its latest reincarnation: a coffee shop and bar called The Cauldron.
Perhaps it鈥檚 a miracle in itself that the building has lasted so long, despite the development of West Campus, which is now a hodgepodge of student housing complexes. But some say the building never really got its due.
So, what exactly is the story behind this building?
After Emancipation, formerly enslaved people acquired land and built towns, often referred to as freedmen鈥檚 communities or freedom colonies. Between 1865 and 1930, 557 of these settlements formed in Texas, according to the
In these spaces in Austin and across the state, newly freed Black Texans could lead independent lives, largely away from white society and the racial violence they鈥檇 encounter there. They built churches, schools, businesses and cemeteries.
鈥淵ou have these communities, these enclaves, that were established by African Americans after the Civil War as places of safety, of community in the larger world where they were fraught with segregation and racial conflict,鈥� says Tara Dudley, a professor at UT鈥檚 School of Architecture. 鈥淭hese were communities within the larger Austin community where individuals and families could prosper.鈥�
One such settlement was Wheatville. A former slave named James Wheat founded the community just west of Austin in 1867. It was bounded by what is now 24th and 26th streets and Shoal Creek and Rio Grande. Residents remained relatively isolated from the rest of Austin, attending church there, sending their kids to the Wheatville school and shopping at the local grocery store. Many Wheatville residents 鈥� eventually there were 300 鈥� traveled into Austin for work as builders, craftsmen, laundresses, wagon drivers and porters at hotels and businesses downtown, according to Dudley.
It was also where one of the first Black newspapers west of the Mississippi began 鈥� The Gold Dollar. The Rev. Jacob Fontaine, who lived in Wheatville, started the newspaper in 1876. It is thought that Fontaine published the newspaper out of the stone building at 2402 San Gabriel St.
Fontaine, who was born into slavery in Arkansas in 1808, was enslaved by Edward Fontaine, the personal secretary to Republic of Texas President Mirabeau Lamar. In addition to starting the newspaper, Jacob Fontaine was a Baptist preacher, political leader and businessman. He started six churches in Central Texas, some of which still continue today.
Active in politics, he was one of the first Black people to vote in Travis County. He also played a significant role in advocating for the University of Texas to be placed in Austin 鈥� perhaps thinking the university would be integrated. But Black students weren鈥檛 admitted until decades later.
Fontaine and his family are thought to have lived in the San Gabriel building periodically from the 1870s to 1890s, where he held church services and operated a grocery store.
Like other freedom colonies in and around Austin, Wheatville didn鈥檛 last forever. As Austin expanded westward, and when UT was built in 1883, white people encroached and Black residents were pushed out. In the early 1900s, the area began changing into a neighborhood of Italian immigrants. The stone building was bought in 1919 by Joe Franzetti, who operated a grocery store there until the 1950s.
Once a refuge, Wheatville became less and less inhabitable for Black residents because of racist city policies. A city dump was placed across from the Wheatville school, and residents were denied city services. The city adopted its infamous 1928 Master Plan, which legalized segregation. The plan placed all public facilities for Black people, such as schools and parks, in East Austin, in an attempt to draw them to a so-called 鈥渘egro district鈥� and away from the rest of the city.
Dudley says some Wheatville residents stuck it out as long as they could.
鈥淔or a time, you do have residents of Wheatville who were trying to resist and maintain their livelihood,鈥� she said. 鈥淵ou have families that had been there for decades, if not generations in Wheatville who were trying to hold on to their livelihood, to their connection to that area.鈥�
But most eventually left. The city closed the Wheatville elementary school in 1932. And as UT grew, student housing and sorority and fraternity houses moved in.
A similar story took place in other freedmen鈥檚 communities around the city and beyond.
鈥淭hat kind of erasure is not just applicable to Wheatville or any freedom colonies in Austin,鈥� Dudley said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 very similar to stories in Black communities throughout the country.鈥�
Looking at Austin today, it might be hard to imagine a time when the city had thriving Black communities on its West Side. West Austin is known for being wealthy and white. And because of the 1928 plan, areas east of I-35 have historically been home to Austin鈥檚 communities of color. Many of those residents have been priced out more recently as Austin has grown and the East Side has gentrified.
Over the years, the percentage of Black residents has dwindled, now making up about 7% of the city鈥檚 population. But in the 1870s, Black people made up a much larger percentage 鈥� nearly 37%, according to .
Dudley says Austin鈥檚 original Black communities are often left out of the narrative of how the city came to be.
鈥淭here were enclaves of African Americans that lived throughout the city once upon a time, and we don鈥檛 have a sense of that belonging,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 think it鈥檚 one reason why so many people of color don鈥檛 consider Austin home, as a welcoming place. They don鈥檛 see themselves here. Definitely not physically in the landscape anymore. But that history is not really fleshed out and presented.鈥�
She sees the last remaining structure of Wheatville as an example of such erased history. When the building was given landmark status by the city in 1977, it was named the Franzetti Store, after the Italian family who operated the grocery store there. It wasn鈥檛 named for its roots in a freedom colony, or for its associations with Jacob Fontaine.
鈥淲hen the property was designated as a landmark, that鈥檚 the history that was highlighted and focused,鈥� Dudley said. 鈥淎nd all of these other histories, all of these other layers, ignored.鈥�
There have been some attempts to tie the building back to its origins. In 2012, Cuatro Kowalski opened up a barbecue restaurant in the space called Freedmen鈥檚, a nod to the building鈥檚 history. He said when he first bought the property, he didn鈥檛 know it had once been inhabited by freed slaves.
鈥淲e were like, 鈥榃ell, let鈥檚 look up the history and see what happened in this building,鈥� and that鈥檚 when we started learning about it,鈥� Kowalski said. 鈥淲e were like, 鈥榃ell, this is awesome. We鈥檝e got to, you know, in some way incorporate that so we could tell the story and teach other people about what was going on in here.鈥欌��
But about five years into his business, the neighboring property owners told him they were in talks with developers about building apartments there.
鈥淭hey approached us and said that basically the writing was on the wall: The highest and best use for real estate in West Campus is student housing or apartments,鈥� he said.
While the stone building was protected by its historic landmark status, the areas to the sides and back were open to development. Kowalski said he had to make a choice: Stay through years of construction or get out.
鈥淭o say that we were forced out is maybe a little harsh, but, yeah, that location became unsustainable for our type of business,鈥� he said. So, he sold it in 2018, to the same people who owned the surrounding properties.
The new owners, a group of local partners known as HillTop SH Ventures LP and a New York-based investment firm called W.P. Carey Inc., decided to build the eight-story apartment complex so that it wrapped around the Franzetti building. John Davenport, one of the owners, said they were fans of the building鈥檚 history and wanted the building to stay there.
鈥淲e always wanted the building to be a part of the identity of the development,鈥� he said. 鈥淪o, we came up with a way for it to kind of be nestled in and be more of an amenity eventually for the property.鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 unfortunate in that there are just kind of bits and pieces that are given for what I think can and should be a more robust commemoration of that building of Jacob Fontaine [and] what it means for the community, especially because there鈥檚 nothing else.鈥�Tara Dudley, UT Austin School of Architecture professor
In 2017, the city鈥檚 Historic Landmark Commission approved the owners鈥� proposal provided the complex would not touch the historic structure.
Around the same time, Historic Preservation Officer Steve Sadowsky began leading an effort to rename the building to reflect its roots. During a 2018 Planning Commission meeting, he said the fact the building was officially named 鈥淭he Franzetti Store of Wheatville鈥� gave 鈥渟hort shrift鈥� to the building鈥檚 African-American history.
鈥淚t鈥檚 time to rectify that,鈥� Sadowsky said.
The Austin City Council approved the renaming of the building to 鈥淭he Reverend Jacob Fontaine Gold Dollar Building鈥� later that year.
But so far, the name change has been little more than symbolic. Nothing on the building itself educates people about its history.
鈥淚t鈥檚 unfortunate in that there are just kind of bits and pieces that are given for what I think can and should be a more robust commemoration of that building of Jacob Fontaine [and] what it means for the community,鈥� Dudley said, 鈥渆specially because there鈥檚 nothing else.鈥�
The Reverend Jacob Fontaine Gold Dollar Building has been closed to the public for the last four years during HillTop鈥檚 construction around it. The apartment complex, which opened in 2020, is geared toward UT Austin students and promises 鈥渟tylish apartments鈥� and 鈥渞esort-style amenities,鈥� including a rooftop pool and gym, according to its website.
After HillTop opened, the owners put the Gold Dollar Building up for lease. Davenport said they wanted to bring in a tenant that fit the 鈥渟tudent vibe of the neighborhood and the type of people鈥� living at HillTop. They leased it to a new business called The Cauldron, which is expected to open in April. The Cauldron owner Isaac Quintanilla says the space will be a coffee shop by day, a bar at night and a club on weekends.
鈥淥ur aesthetic is kind of a play off like Tulum, Mediterranean vibe,鈥� Quintanilla said in the fall when he gave KUT a tour of the building. 鈥淎nd we鈥檙e excited to open up.鈥�
The two-story building maintains a lot of its original features: wooden beams, exposed limestone walls, even an old vault under the staircase where shopkeepers perhaps once kept valuables.
鈥淲e鈥檙e not going to change anything structurally,鈥� Quintanilla said. 鈥淲e鈥檙e not adding walls, we鈥檙e not removing walls.鈥�
But the space will look different than it ever has: The downstairs will serve as a bar and coffee shop with tables for people to sit, while the upstairs will be a lounge, featuring bottle service and a DJ corner. Quintanilla is planning to have a regular bar, a smoothie bar, a wall of plants, a Zodiac mural and an Instagram wall where people can take photos. He says he鈥檚 considering having a series of paintings that relate to Jacob Fontaine and pay homage to the building鈥檚 history.
鈥淲e want to be respectful of the building, but we also need to make sure it fits the aesthetic in the community we鈥檙e going to serve as of today,鈥� he said.
And there could be one structural change. Quintanilla is hoping to remove the siding and roof of the second story鈥檚 enclosed balcony, which he says is decaying and no longer functional. The change will require approval from the Historic Landmark Commission.
Quintanilla and others involved with the project point out the balcony was not part of the original structure. But some see its destruction as further erasure. Dudley this month arguing the modification shouldn鈥檛 be allowed until experts study the structure and 鈥渕ake recommendations for preservation best practices.鈥� The proposal will go before the Historic Landmark Commission on Monday.
For the first time in its history, The Gold Dollar Building could soon have a physical marker on its facade, explaining its associations with Jacob Fontaine and The Gold Dollar. The commemoration isn鈥檛 coming through official city channels or the building鈥檚 owners. Instead, the effort was spurred by a man鈥檚 last wish to a friend.
In addition to renaming the building, Sadowsky, the city鈥檚 preservation officer, wanted to make the building鈥檚 history more apparent. He鈥檇 been working on wording for a plaque, but the COVID-19 pandemic slowed down progress 鈥� and his health was failing, says his friend Mike McHone. McHone, a development consultant and a founding member of the neighborhood association University Area Partners, had worked with Sadowsky on various projects over the years.
In the fall, McHone learned Sadowsky, who had cancer, was in hospice.
鈥淥ne of his last wishes to me was to get the plaque installed,鈥� McHone said.
He said Sadowsky felt strongly that proper recognition had never been given to this building and that the city had made a 鈥済reat mistake鈥� in not recognizing its history when originally designating it as a historic site in the 1970s.
Knowing his friend only had a few months left, McHone got to work. He asked a real estate developer, Lincoln Ventures, who also knew Sadowsky, to help pay for the plaque, and the building鈥檚 owners agreed to have it placed there. Sadowsky wrote the words and signed off on it. But on Jan. 12, he died.
McHone says the plaque is expected to arrive in March and he hopes to hold a ceremony for its installation.
鈥淯nfortunately Mr. Sadowsky will not be there to share this moment with us,鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut [the plaque] was what he wanted, so I鈥檓 glad I was able to do it.鈥�
The plaque explains Fontaine鈥檚 role as a church leader and founder of The Gold Dollar newspaper. It says the 鈥渞ock rubble structure 鈥� gained its significance when the Rev. Jacob Fontaine moved into the building to establish his home and grocery story for the surrounding Wheatville freedmen鈥檚 community in 1875.鈥�
But the story that鈥檚 commonly told about Jacob Fontaine鈥檚 connections to The Gold Dollar Building may not be entirely accurate 鈥� or at least somewhat exaggerated. In the article 鈥� Gordon argues more archival work is needed to understand the building鈥檚 history. He says census records and city directories indicate Fontaine actually lived next door, at 2400 San Gabriel, a building that burned down long ago. That鈥檚 likely where The Gold Dollar was printed, Gordon says.
That building was 鈥渂urned purposely by agents unknown, probably white folks, because Jacob Fontaine was a well-known radical Republican and defender of the Black vote and things like that,鈥� Gordon told KUT. 鈥淪o, The Gold Dollar newspaper was burned out.鈥�
It鈥檚 likely many parts of the building known today as The Gold Dollar Building were built by a white grocer named Isaac Claypool. The Fontaine family may have rented it and lived there for a time after the arson. Gordon points out that when the filing was made to make the space a historical landmark, not enough research was done to figure out its exact history.
鈥淣o one did the historical research to really figure out anything about it at all,鈥� he said. 鈥淪o what that says is that Black history, Black presence, Black spaces really aren鈥檛 of value, particularly when other people value them and want to turn them to their own purposes.鈥�
Wheatville as a whole is an example of that, he says. Because of its proximity to UT, it became valuable property for white people. Today, it is home mostly to UT students 鈥� who are .
鈥淚t鈥檚 valuable terrain, but not valuable Black terrain, and it鈥檚 taken over by another set of people,鈥� Gordon said. 鈥淎nd the history is, if anything, inconvenient.鈥�
He clarifies he doesn鈥檛 want to say The Gold Dollar absolutely was not published at the building that still stands today; he just has his doubts. Dudley, too, says archival sources show Fontaine and his family lived next door. However, she says, it鈥檚 been passed down through family lore that Fontaine did operate The Gold Dollar at the remaining building. A biography of Fontaine co-written by his grandson, for example, says he did live there and used it to operate the newspaper, a grocery store and a church.
But nailing down the specifics of a community that鈥檚 largely been erased is difficult. And perhaps what鈥檚 most important is that there鈥檚 anything left at all for people to remember Wheatville by.
鈥淚n some sense, it鈥檚 important that we still have something that we can say is a remnant of Wheatville,鈥� Gordon said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 important that there be some kind of commemoration of it. So, it鈥檚 The Gold Dollar Building.鈥�
The story of Wheatville is more than this building. There鈥檚 still much more to be learned about what it was like to live in Austin鈥檚 freedom colonies, Dudley says. There are descendants of these communities that can share stories, and archives that hold oral histories from these early Austin residents.
鈥淚 think it鈥檚 important as a historian, as a preservationist, to continue to preserve those stories, to bring out those stories that realize it or not, are there in the archive and other places,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e just have to look for them.鈥�
Wheatville, she says, still has stories to tell.
鈥淓ven though the buildings aren鈥檛 there,鈥� she says, 鈥渨e still can humanize that history and bring that back to life.鈥�
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