There is something profoundly emotional about the manner in which a vessel might embody the heart of a location and its residents. Few ships bear such burdens of heritage as does the Battleship Texas. She is not simply a steel monument—she is a living embodiment of perseverance, innovation, and a collective will to preserve history. The Texas’ tale is not one of armor and guns alone; it’s one of those who sailed on her, and those who have not allowed her tale to be forgotten.
Commissioned in 1914, the Texas was once the pride of the U.S. Navy, equipped with ten massive 14-inch guns with the ability to fire shells more than 12 miles. She was a pioneer—the first U.S. battleship to deploy an airplane and the sole surviving dreadnought to serve in both global wars. Her decks have been graced by presidents, athletes, and thousands of sailors from every region of the nation.
She steamed with the British Grand Fleet in the North Sea during World War I. She weathered the World War II invasions of North Africa, Normandy, Southern France, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. Interestingly, she had only lost one member of her crew to enemy forces—a testament to the strength of the ship as well as her crew, as people recall in their efforts to save her.
Following deactivation in 1948, the Texas was repurposed as America’s first battleship museum, tied up along the San Jacinto Battleground. It was an appropriate home, but time and weather gradually wore down the ship. Leaks were constant. Pumps were always on just to stay ahead of her submerging. She was once taking thousands of gallons per minute of water. It wasn’t just erosion—it was a pending crisis. The war-surviving ship now struggled with destruction within.
But the type of courage that kept Texas afloat during wartime never abandoned her. When she needed to be saved, people rallied. Volunteers, welders, naval historians, engineers—everyone contributed something to the cause. One volunteer, David, worked on repairing gun mounts and replacing brass fittings. He called it “a meaningful kind of work,” something that made him feel like part of something bigger.
Restoring Texas wasn’t easy. It meant replacing hundreds of tons of steel, repainting her in her original WWII Measure 21 camouflage, and carefully repairing decades of damage. More than 300,000 hours of work and $75 million, according to those most familiar with the project, were invested in saving her from the brink.
For those who trod her decks during this huge overhaul, the experience was nearly ghostly—better, in a way. It seemed to be walking through history itself. Those who experienced it said it was like stepping into a moment suspended in time. Even in deteriorated condition, the Texas inspired a reverent sort of respect. The esprit de corps among the restoration team was reminiscent of the cooperation that once saw her ride out storms and battles together.
Of course, the journey hasn’t been smooth sailing. There were heated arguments regarding where she should be docked forever. Galveston, Baytown, and Beaumont all wished to be a part of her new life. Each city had its argument, its justifications.
But more importantly, all that was left was ensuring her safety and telling her tale to as many as could hear. The new decision to make Pier 15 in Galveston her home is not an ending, but a beginning—a beginning that welcomes the world to walk her decks and listen to her story firsthand.
It is not solely her war history, or even the engineering feat of restoring her, that distinguishes the Battleship Texas—it is the grit, the community, and the respect she contains for memory. As Battleship Texas Foundation’s Matt Pham said, there’s no other site in the state where you can lay your hands on something that weathered both world wars. She’s not just a state treasure—she’s a symbol of what people can accomplish when they rally to support something important.
Greater than a vessel, the Texas is a living, floating remnant of our common heritage. Her tale of survival reminds us that history is not confined to books—it remains alive in what we battle to save. Because of those who volunteered their time, their resources, and their hearts, future generations will not merely read about her. They will stand upon her decks. They will gaze out from her bow. And they will feel the beat of history underfoot.