My name is Gary Hunter. My mission is to restore the little white church located at 602 E. Main Street in Fredericksburg, Texas. My motivation is fuelled by the request of my late mother, Frances Phillips-Hunter, who attended school and church services there as a young girl. In many ways the story of the church is also the story of my family.

I grew up in San Antonio and would visit Fredericksburg only in the summer. My fondest memory of Fredericksburg was the mouth-watering peaches grown on my grandfather’s farm. In the mid-1800s Paul “Papa” Phillips Sr. owned 85 acres located on Hwy. 290 between Fredericksburg and Stonewall. Not only was Paul Phillips Sr. a dynamic leader of the small black population in Gillespie County he was a self-taught veterinarian which made him an invaluable member of the predominantly German community as well.
One of his most notable clients, Samuel Ealy Johnson Jr., would occasionally visit Papa’s home to discuss cattle and farming and the finer points of country life. The fact that Mr. Johnson was a member of the Texas House of Representatives went a long way toward cementing Dr. Phillips’ reputation in the community at large. It didn’t hurt that “Good Old Paul”, as he was affectionately known, spoke fluent German. But it was my mother’s memory of serving coffee and breakfast to Mr. Johnson and his son Lyndon B. Johnson during their visits that was passed down to me as a young boy.
In 1887, Oscar Basse sold the 2-acre plot of land, where the small church still stands, to the trustees of “The Colored Methodist Episcopal Church.” Originally, the diminutive structure did not stand alone. A small white schoolhouse predated the church and was possibly situated on the land immediately adjacent to it. The schoolhouse has since been sold and is currently being used as a bed and breakfast located on Schubert St. Since the school’s removal decades ago several attempts have been made to move the church or tear it down.
In 1952 a lawsuit was filed int the Gillespie County Courthouse declaring the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church abandoned. The suit included a request to tear the church down and put up the land for sale. Paul Phillips Sr. joined with other members of the congregation to fight the suit on behalf of the colored people of Gillespie County. The effort required Dr. Phillips to post a bond in the formidable amount of $2,000. The fact that the church still stands is a testament to his success. It is also the reason why our 501c(3) non-profit is named in acknowledgement of their efforts.
My personal involvement in the church’s restoration began with a simple desire to honor my mother’s final request. However, since that time it has grown into something greater, more intimate, a personal paradigm shift.  Just before her death in November 2013 my mother asked me, “Gary do something with the church before it gets torn down.” You see, my mother had moved to San Antonio because there was no high school for colored people to attend in Fredericksburg during the 1940s. But her heart had never really left Fredericksburg; this was still her home. Being 60-years-old, raised in the big city and a product of the civil rights movement I never really understood why she loved this town so much – until recently.
Enter Fredericksburg from any direction and you are sure to encounter a familiar sign, “Willkommen.” Everyone is welcome in Fredericksburg. During this past year of working here I have come to realize that it’s always been that way. Over the last year I have learned that Fredericksburg still celebrates its original treaty with the local Native American population. This treaty is nationally recognized as the only unbroken treaty with the Indians in the history of the United States.
But something even closer to home caught my attention. Enter Fredericksburg from Hwy. 290 West and you will pass Phillips Lane, named after my grandfather. Enter from Hwy. 290 East and you will pass Phillips Rd., named for his son, my uncle, Paul Phillips Jr. who was also a local veterinarian. Long before I got here this city had already taken steps to preserve the legacy of my family. I am both humbled and overwhelmed by the reality that at a time when so many cities are struggling with racial turmoil Fredericksburg follows a different philosophy, a philosophy of inclusion – always has and always will.
Now, I’ve been given a lot of credit for the work that’s been done. But the truth is that the progress we have made thus far would not have been possible without the support of the local white citizens, many of whom remember my mother and even my grandfather. It is also a reality that not many descendants remain of the original members of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church. The few of us that do remain do not have the financial means to complete a project this large. To hold onto this church my grandfather had to come up with $2,000. Now, in order to do the same we need one hundred times that much. We would greatly appreciate whatever help you can give.
At some point the name of the church was changed to the Christian Methodist Episcopal Church. That’s as it should be. Skin color has never been a major factor in this town’s personality. Sure, there will always be detractors. Since I’ve been here I’ve encountered those who enjoy flaunting their rebel flag and even those who use the “N” word when they refer to our church. But I’ve also met enough local residents to realize that these backward thinkers are the exception, not the rule. My mother always understood this.
Fredericksburg is a town for tourists. Historical stone structures line downtown Main Street offering visitors a variety of stores to shop and visit. But this little wooden church tucked away on the east end of downtown holds a piece of local history that should never be lost. It is a history of solidarity and cohesion that transcends racial differences. My goal is to preserve the part of this original community that understood that the word “willkommen” included everyone.

Please contact letstalknowandlater@gmail.com (Gary Hunter) for more information.