There is something profoundly emotional in the manner in which a vessel can become synonymous with the very soul of an area and its people. Few vessels personify that connection so vigorously as does the Battleship Texas. She is not just a steel-and-rivet combat vessel—she is a symbol of resolve, resourcefulness, and community heritage. Her history goes far beyond her bark of guns; it’s about the sailors who have commanded her, the wars she survived, and the people who have struggled to keep her memory alive.
Commissioned in 1914, Texas was the pride of the U.S. Navy. With ten powerful 14-inch guns that could strike more than 12 miles away, she was meant to be at the forefront. She also broke new ground—becoming the first-ever American battleship to launch an airplane and the sole surviving dreadnought to have seen action in both World Wars. Throughout her long life, her decks welcomed presidents, sailors, and ordinary heroes from all across America.
In World War I, she served in the British Grand Fleet in the icy North Sea. By World War II, she was an old battle-hardened veteran, having taken part in the battles of North Africa, Normandy, Southern France, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. Despite it all, she was tough and lucky, losing just one man to enemy fire, a number that speaks volumes about her design and the professional competence of her crew.
When the war was over, Texas was decommissioned in 1948 and converted into the country’s first full-time battleship museum. Moored at the San Jacinto Battleground, she lived on as a reminder of America’s naval past. But as the years went by, time began to erode her once-formidable hull.
Corrosion, seepage, and full-time exposure to the elements began to weaken her. Pumps ran around the clock just to keep her buoyant. Sometimes, she was drinking thousands of gallons of water per minute—a World War II veteran now fighting her biggest battle against decay.
However, the same sort of courage and determination that guided Texas through war never left her. After folks realized she needed to be rescued, men and women from all walks of life rallied to her side. Volunteers, engineers, welders, veterans, and hobbyists joined forces with a mission—saving her. One volunteer, David, who spent time repairing her gun mounts and brass hardware, described it as “a meaningful kind of work.” To him, it wasn’t a project—it was living history.
The restoration scope was enormous. Hundreds of tons of steel were removed, she was repainted in her original World War II camouflage scheme, and the ravages of the decades were painstakingly restored. It took more than 300,000 hours of work and some $75 million to get her back to her former self.
Her restorers described it as a near-spiritual experience—like traveling through time itself. Even drydocked, Texas inspired awe and respect, and the cooperation of the restoration team was a reflection of the same teamwork that had seen her through the combat of war.
All was not plain sailing, naturally. There were bitter disputes over where Texas was to call home permanently. Galveston, Baytown, and Beaumont were all vying for the opportunity, each eager to bring such a legendary part of history to their city. And then it was determined: Texas was to move to Pier 15 in Galveston. Not an end at all, but a beginning—a chance for visitors from around the world to board her, tour her decks, and live her history firsthand.
It’s not exactly the years that Battleship Texas served or the technological advancements that made her special—it’s the will of the people who never allowed her to be forgotten. According to restoration leader Matt Pham himself, there’s no other place where you can literally touch something that survived both world wars. She exists today as more than a ship—she’s living proof of what can be accomplished when a town unites for a common purpose.
Now, Texas floats again—not as a relic, but as a heartbeat of history. Her survival is a testament to the fact that history is not always in books; history is in the things we choose to preserve. With the tireless dedication and devotion of hundreds of volunteers and advocates, future generations will not just read about her—they will walk her decks, feel the ocean air rippling her bow, and sense the beat of history beneath their feet.