Episode 16 — I. M. Terrell: The School That Carried a Community (Part 4: Where)

Where was I. M. Terrell really located in history?

In this powerful fourth installment of the I. M. Terrell series, DonTheBarber explores the geography, neighborhoods, land history, and community ecosystem surrounding one of Fort Worth’s most important Black educational institutions.

Because I. M. Terrell wasn’t just a school sitting on a street corner.

It was rooted in:
 • Chambers Hill
 • East 18th Street
 • Fort Worth’s historic Third Ward
 • The Butler Place community
 • And the evolving story of Black Fort Worth itself

This episode traces the origins of the land before the school existed — from Andrew J. Chambers and the Chambers Addition… to the demographic transformation of the neighborhood during segregation… to the rise of East 18th Street as a major Black educational and cultural corridor in Fort Worth history.

🎙️ In this episode:
 • The origins of Chambers Hill
 • Who Andrew J. Chambers was
 • How the Chambers Addition shaped East Fort Worth
 • Why the school was originally built as a White campus
 • The demographic shifts that transformed the neighborhood
 • The redesignation of the school as a Black educational institution
 • The arrival of I. M. Terrell High School in 1937
 • The impact of Butler Place and urban redevelopment
 • Why preserving Black places matters as much as preserving Black people

This episode also explores the deeper emotional truth behind local history:

That buildings carry memory.
 Neighborhoods shape identity.
 And geography tells stories long after generations are gone.

Because every time somebody says “I. M. Terrell”…

they’re also speaking to:
 • Chambers Hill
 • Third Ward history
 • East 18th Street
 • Butler Place
 • And generations of Black Fort Worth families

⸻

📍 Topics Covered:
 • I. M. Terrell High School
 • Chambers Hill
 • Third Ward Fort Worth
 • Andrew J. Chambers
 • Butler Place
 • Black Fort Worth history
 • Segregation and urban development
 • Black educational history
 • East 18th Street
 • Community preservation

⸻

🎧 Listen • Share • Subscribe

If this episode taught you something, share it with somebody from Fort Worth… somebody who remembers Butler Place… or somebody who needs to know this history before it disappears.

And make sure you subscribe to We Got The Funk Podcast on:
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 • Or wherever you get your podcasts

Follow DonTheBarber_817 on:
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Because preserving Black history starts with remembering the places that carried us.

Hosted by DonTheBarber
 “Your History. Our Legacy. Our Future.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:04

Some places just don't exist on the map. Some places carry memory. Some places carry struggle. Some places carry pride. And some places carry the footsteps of generations. And if you listen closely enough, some places still talking. Even after the streets change, even after the buildings disappear, even after the city moves on. Because when we talk about I am Tarot High School, we're not just talking about what happened inside the building. We're talking about where it stood. Because schools don't exist in isolation. They exist in neighborhoods, inside communities, inside ecosystems of people trying to survive, build, and dream. And the where of I am Tarot tells us just as much as the who, the what, and the when. Because this school stood in the middle of a changing black Fort Worth. A Fort Worth shaped by segregation, shaped by migration, shaped by land ownership, shaped by policy, and shaped by resilience. And today we're gonna walk through that geography together. We're gonna talk about Chambers Hill, East 18th Street, Third Ward History, Andrew J. Chambers, Butler Place, Urban Change, and how one school became rooted in one of the most important black spaces in Fort Worth history. It's your boy Don the Barber back with another episode of We Got the Funk, and this right here is part four of the I Am Terrell series, The Where. Now let's start here because before there was I Am Terrell, before there was a school building, before there was a mascot, before there was graduations and jazz bands and championship dreams, there was land. And honestly, sometimes the land tells the story before the people do. Back in the late 1800s, the area east of downtown Fort Worth was part of what was known as the Third Ward. Now today when people hear the Third Ward, they might think Houston, but Fort Worth had his own Third Ward history too. And this section of the city sat on elevated ground, people eventually started calling Chambers Hill, named after Andrew J. Chambers. Now, Andrew J. Chambers wasn't just some random guy with land. He was influential, businessman, landowner, former Texas legislator, and community figure, one of those early Fort Worth names tied directly to development. And during the 1880s and 1890s, Chambers owned large portions of land in that area and began subdividing it into what became known as the Chambers Addition. Now let's pause right there for a second. Because when we hear words like addition today, we think subdivisions and real estate listings. But back then, that was the city literally expanding outward. New lots, new streets, new homes, and new identities. Fort Worth was growing, and Chambers was one of the people shaping that growth. That means the roots of the I am Terrell story began before education. They began with geography, land ownership, and urban development. Hey, now that's deep right there, because history don't just happen inside classrooms. It also happens through who owns land, who develops neighborhoods, and who gets remembered afterwards. Now over time, this area developed into its own identity. People started calling it Chambers Hill. And by the late 1800s, city directories was already using that name. That means the neighborhood wasn't just unofficially recognized, it was culturally recognized. Folks knew where Chambers Hill was. And one thing I love about local history is this. Neighborhoods used to mean something different. People identified with them deeply. The hill, the block, the street, the church nearby, the corner store, the school, there was identity. And Chambers Hill became one of those places. Now during the early years, the neighborhood was mostly white and working class. But over time, the demographic shifted. And that shift tells us something important about Fort Worth itself. Because cities don't change randomly. Policy changes them. Economics changes them. Segregation changes them. And by the 1920s and 1930s, more black families was moving into the area. Not necessarily because they had unlimited choices, but because segregation often restricted where black residents could live. So communities formed where they could. And once black families established roots, they built worlds around those roots. I'm talking about churches, schools, businesses, music scenes, and community organizations. That's how Black Fort Worth developed strong cultural ecosystems during segregation. And eventually, Chambers Hill became one of those ecosystems. Now this is where the stories start getting layered, though. In 1909, Fort Worth School Board purchased land at East 18th Street and Chambers Street. And according to historical records, this land included the former home site of Andrew J. Chambers himself. Think about that for a minute. The school that would eventually become one of the most important black educational institutions in Fort Worth was literally built on land tied to the man who helped shape the neighborhood. Hey, that's symbolic right there. And in 1910, a new school opened there, the Andrew J. Chambers School. Now originally, this was a white school. And I think that's one of the most fascinating parts of the history, because buildings can change identities over time. The same walls, the same hallways, the same land, but completely different meanings depending on the era. And honestly, that's America. A lot of black history is layered on the spaces that were never originally designed for black advancement. Yet, black communities transformed them spaces anyway. Hey, and that's exactly what happened here. Now by the 1930s, the demographic transformation of the neighborhood was becoming undeniable. And eventually, the old Chambers School was redesignated as a colored school in 1931. Hey, that mattered right there, because now the building itself became directly connected to black educational history. And then in 1937, everything changed again. I am Terrell High School moved into the expanded campus. Now pause right there. Because that move wasn't just logistical, it was symbolic. The institution and the neighborhood locked together permanently in public memory. Now East 18th Street wasn't just another street anymore. It became one of the central black educational corridors in Fort Worth. And honestly, that corridor represented much more than school attendance. It represented aspiration. Students walking those streets carried books, instruments, uniforms, and dreams. Families gathered there for games and graduations. Teachers lived nearby. Churches reinforce the same values students learned in school. That's ecosystem building. That's community formation. And once a school becomes deeply connected to the emotional life of a neighborhood, the geography itself becomes sacred. Now one thing I really need people to understand is this. I am Terrell didn't exist in a vacuum. The school was connected to a larger black Fort Worth world, a living world. You had black churches nearby shaping spiritual life, black owned businesses creating economic life, barbershop creating conversations, music culture creating creativity, families creating accountability, and schools like Tarot sat right there in the middle of all that. That's why students from that era often spoke about Tarot emotionally, because they not just remembering the classroom, they remembering the whole atmosphere. The walk to school, the sounds of the band practicing, the energy of game nights, the community pride during commencements, the neighborhood conversations afterwards. Hey, that right there is what you call cultural geography. And honestly, a lot of modern cities done lost some of that. Not because people stopped caring, but because displacement changes community rhythms. And black neighborhoods across America know that story way too well. Hey, let's keep it 100 though. This beautiful community ecosystem existed under segregation, and that's really important because we never want to romanticize the system itself. The reason black institutions had to become so self-contained was because access elsewhere was restricted. I'm talking about housing discrimination, educational segregation, and economic barriers. All of that shaped the geography. And when geography gets shaped by exclusion, communities adapt the best way they can. That's what Black Fort Work did. That's what Chambers Hill did, and that's what Terror represented. A people building dignity inside limitation. Hey, that's powerful right there, but it's also painful because black excellence had to fight harder than it should have had to. Now this is where the story takes another major turn. By the late 1930s, city leaders and housing authorities started looking at Chambers Hill differently. Not as a cultural ecosystem, not as community memory, but as what they labeled blighted. And historically, whenever cities start using words like that, redevelopment usually follows. Eventually, much of the surrounding area was cleared for Butler Place public housing. Now let me say this carefully, because Butler Place became important for many black families. Hey, a lot of folks got meaningful memories connected to the Butler Place. But at the same time, urban transformation also erased parts of old Chambers Hill in the process. Entire streets disappeared, homes vanished, and neighborhood patterns shifted. Hey, that right there is a complicated history. And black communities across America experienced versions of this same story. Communities built under segregation, then later reshaped through urban renewal, redevelopment, or highway construction. And sometimes cities preserve buildings while unintentionally disrupting the emotional ecosystem surrounding them. And that's pretty much what happened here too. Hey, sometimes history don't vanish overnight. And sometimes it gets redeveloped piece by piece. And one day the people wake up realizing the neighborhood they knew only exist in memory. Now this is why the survival of I Am Tarot matters so much. The building survive and the buildings become anchors for memory. Especially in black communities where so much history has been erased, displaced, or underpreserved. That brick structure became proof. Proof that this happened here. Proof that generations walked these halls, learned here, dreamed here, performed here, prepared here. And honestly, sometimes one preserved building can reconnect an entire generation back to its roots. And that's why restoration matters so much. That's why preservation matters, because once the physical reminders disappear, memory becomes harder to hold on to. And thankfully, tarot survived long enough to become a bridge between generations. The where of I Am Tarot is really about belonging. Where did Black Fort Worth belong during segregation? Where could families build community? Where could students feel seen? Where could excellence grow? East 18th Street became one of those answers. And honestly, that's why the location still carries so much emotional weight. Because people ain't just remembering the campus. They remembering where they felt connected, where they felt represented, where they felt challenged, and where they felt proud. And every city got places like that. Now why should somebody in 2026 care about any of this? Because local history teaches us how communities was built. And once you understand the geography, you understand the people differently. You understand why institutions matter so much, why schools matter so much, why neighborhoods matter so much, and why preserving black history matters so much. And honestly, Fort Worth still struggles sometimes with fully telling this black history loudly enough. That's part of why this podcast exists. Because these stories deserve light. These places deserve remembrance, and younger generations deserve to know that Black Fort Worth wasn't accidental. It was built street by street, institution by institution, and family by family. It does not only live in textbooks, it live in geography, in corners, and street names, in buildings, in neighborhoods, and in schools. And every time somebody says I am Terrell, they also speak in the Chambers Hill, Third Ward, East 18th Street, Butler Place, and Black Fort Worth itself. That's what makes the word so powerful. Because the school was rooted in a real place with real people living through real struggles while still building real excellence. And that's the legacy we talking about today. So when somebody asks, where was I and Terrell really located in history? Tell them this. It stood on land shaped by Andrew J. Chambers inside Fort Worth's historic third ward in a neighborhood known as Chambers Hill along East 18th Street near the future Butler Place community. And over time, that location became one of the most important black educational and cultural spaces in Fort Worth history. Not just because of the building, but because of the people who gave it place and meaning. Hey, if this episode taught you something, share it with somebody from the funk, somebody who remembers Butler Place, somebody who remembers Tarrell, or somebody who needed to hear this history before it disappeared. And make sure you follow Donna Barber underscore 817 on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, and subscribe to the We Got the Funk podcast, on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, wherever you get your podcast. Hey man, preserving black history, start with remembering places that characters. Until next time, keep your mind sharp, keep that spirit grounded, and keep honoring the shoulders you stand on. Peace.