Dolores Scott picked up a call from an unknown number in 1996 and learned that her family had property in a place called Littig. She was living in Virginia at the time, but a few years later, she and her children — Christopher Scott, Gena Gonzalez and Alaona Gonzalez — found themselves living among cattle and community in that small Texas town 18 miles northeast of Austin.
The land belonged to ancestor Jackson Morrow, who helped establish the town of Littig in 1883, after slavery ended. Gena Gonzalez told the Austin Free Press that Morrow purchased around 2,000 acres from the plantation where he once had been enslaved and forced to work. Morrow donated the land for a Freedom Colony – a community settled as a safe space by and for formerly enslaved people.
Though the population has dwindled, some families such as the Scotts remained or returned. The siblings created the Littig Preservation Alliance last year to bring back the once-thriving community.
In observance of Juneteenth, those long-building efforts crest this weekend, as communities gather to honor the generations who endured and endure still. Celebrated each year on June 19, the holiday traces back to 1865, when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, carrying word that the Civil War—and slavery—had ended. More than 250,000 enslaved people, the last in Confederate territory, learned that they were free. Their liberation came not at the nation’s founding on July 4, 1776, but nearly nine decades later, underscoring a freedom delayed.
Against that backdrop, descendents and others are working to preserve their community and push back against a proposed wastewater treatment plant being built on 38 acres that once belonged to Morrow. The site is less than a mile from the siblings’ homes. The city of Elgin annexed the plot last year and zoned it for the wastewater plant with little warning to Littig residents. Only Scott, Gena Gonzalez and a few others were notified.
Credit: City of Elgin
The community rallied to protest the development and its pollution. The plant on Littig’s northeastern border will not service Littig. But city officials estimate it will dump 6 million gallons of treated wastewater daily into nearby Dry Creek, which the Scotts say is quick to flood.
“We understand communities grow, but we are saying that a historic Freedom Colony should not be the default location simply because it lacks political power,” Alaona Gonzalez told the Austin Free Press.
A Freedom Colony rises
Littig turned a former plantation into a bustling train stop and agricultural hub, with a peak population of 168 by 1900. The plantation belonged to Christopher Hamilton McGinnis and was worked by Morrow and 18 other enslaved people before emancipation, according to Gena Gonzalez.
The original community built two cotton gins, three churches, four schools and a community center, according to Gena Gonzalez. Alaona Gonzalez called the community center a safe space for residents of Littig to move freely. “We heard that there was just dancing all night long, and there was a giant piano upstairs. They’d be up there jamming,” she said.
Ed Morrow served as the Littig postmaster, and was among the first Black postmasters in Texas.
Credit: Littig Preservation Alliance
The siblings also mentioned the Fowler, Graham, Baker and Sterling families as integral to the community’s creation, with descendents remaining in Littig.
Littig’s blackland prairie in Travis County was great for growing cash crops such as cotton, corn and sugarcane in the early 1800s. Much of the land remained agricultural after emancipation. Even now, as surrounding land is purchased and zoned for development, people in Littig still grow food on their properties.
Departure from Littig
In the 1900s, Littig’s population began to decline. World War II caused Littig’s population to relocate, as men were drafted and educated women left for teaching jobs in other states. The train depot either burned or was shut down around that time, driving more residents away in search of work.
“We don’t really know what happened (with the depot). There’s no record of it, but once the depot was no longer there, a lot of jobs were lost,” Alaona Gonzalez said. “Then in 1954, they closed down the post office. Now, when the post office closed, everyone was like, ‘We have to go.’ ”
Alaona Gonzalez added that, after the war, the Veterans Land Board sold off the land of soldiers who died or did not return for “a very cheap price. In a lot of the transfers, you see that they were sold on a handshake, or $10.”
Christopher Scott stated that those who left became successful with “strong roots coming from Littig with the base of the knowledge” from the high-quality education received at Littig schools. Those who remained stood their ground as the city of Elgin grew and developers flocked to town.
“Littig used to span past (State Highway) 95. Over time, it was engulfed by the Elgin city area,” Scott said. “At one point, Littig was about to be consumed and become Elgin.”
Finding purpose in community
By building local resistance to rapid development and fighting for the preservation of Littig, Gena Gonzalez is reconnecting to a history and culture that she did not previously know was in her.
“I feel like a lot of Black people walk around looking for a purpose, because we don’t know where we come from,” Gonzalez said. “When we moved, when my mom brought us all back down here, it clicked.”
Credit: Littig Preservation Alliance
Gena Gonzalez emphasized that land stewardship, agriculture, and education have been core values of Littig’s founding families and continue to shape the community today. She and her siblings underscored the importance of preserving Black culture through the Littig Preservation Alliance and their opposition to the proposed wastewater plant. For them, Juneteenth represents more than a historical commemoration — it is a living connection between past, present, and the future they envision for Littig.
“The colored community has always been persecuted and had chains placed upon them,” Scott said. “And once again, this (the plant) is another chain placed upon us, placed upon a community, and we’re going to thrive, and we’re going to persevere and come through.”
Piper Guinn is the health equity reporter for the Austin Free Press, covering the disproportionate health burden carried by our city’s most vulnerable. Piper is a native Texan and recent graduate of Whittier College, where she received a B.A. in political science.
