Phoebe Walters

BRIDGE STREET HISTORY CENTER

There wasn't much for snot-nose kids to do in the form of paid entertainment in Granbury, Texas in the mid-1960s. In the wintertime there was the Palace Theatre on the south side of the square where we huddled and watched John Wayne, James Bond and Dracula while slurping icy Dr Peppers and devouring Milk Duds. In the summertime the movies would shift a few blocks west to the Brazos Drive-In where we sat quietly under the stars unless we were being jerks and jumping around and giving the manager Old Man Poor fits.

Another form of entertainment existed in pre-Lake Granbury days: Phoebe, the fortune teller.

Phoebe Walters was an old, tiny Black lady who lived in a small clapboard house on Travis Street, just north of the present-day library. To tell the truth, we were about half-scared of her. We had no reason to be, other than the fact she was Black, which made her a little mysterious in the eyes of a naive 11-year-old.

But there we were, getting up the nerve to approach her house one night and stand shaking on her doorstep. We knocked, she answered the door and invited us in. When she talked she accidentally blew an impressive saliva bubble or two.

She took my hand. Her bony finger traced the lines of my palm. If I remember, she predicted I would become a lawyer or doctor. Must have been bad light in the house because I became neither ... far from it.

I don't know if she possessed extrasensory skills, but many old-timers claimed she could help people find a missing ring or other valuable possessions. One story tells of the time she helped authorities locate the body of a drowning victim on the Brazos River.

Phoebe, daughter of former slaves, provided domestic help for white families in Granbury. She was also a frequent babysitter. She was loved and respected by both white and Black Granbury. For years Phoebe lived without electricity in her home, but Sam Knight, the late city manager, made sure that Phoebe got power in her latter years. Phoebe would always send grocer Milt Meyer a grocery list and Milt would run the groceries out to her. When he sold the grocery and became county judge, Phoebe continued to send him a list and Meyer would still run the groceries to her.

Phoebe didn't trust banks but trusted banker Henry Zweifel who kept her money in his desk drawer.   

She died in 1973 and was laid to rest in the Granbury Cemetery.

The Black church where she was a member could not be used for her funeral because it was in such disrepair. Historian Mary Kate Durham, at the family's request, arranged for the service to be held at the white Methodist church.

"Testimonials are given at Black funerals," said Durham. "She was so loved by all of us that, afterwards, we all said we had wanted to stand up and give a testimonial about Phoebe. The things we could've said."