Hey Kinfolk,
Most people don’t know this about me — not even longtime readers — but in 2017, I became a published writer with the Texas State Historical Association (TSHA).
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| Vinegar Hill: a story preserved in the Handbook of Texas Online and now revisited in my Truth & Legacy series. |
My entry, “Vinegar Hill, Houston,” was selected as Entry #18 in the eBook Houston: Past, Present, and Progress, which launched at the TSHA Annual Conference in Houston that spring. Later, it was added permanently to the Handbook of Texas Online, the go-to reference source for anyone studying this state’s history.
It was an honor — and it changed everything.
The Invitation I Didn’t See Coming
I didn’t go looking for this opportunity — it found me. A colleague I once worked for (and later replaced when he moved on) invited me to a writing session with the Houston History Alliance. They were bringing together contributors for an upcoming eBook, and he told me I’d be a perfect fit.
At first, I balked. Me? A published historical writer? I wasn’t a professional historian. But he looked me straight in the eye and said:
“You’re a native Texan. A native Houstonian. You’re into genealogy, you’ve got a background in library and information systems, and you’ve been a teacher and a librarian. I know you can do this.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I slowly let it out. Then I asked, “If you know me so well, what topic would you suggest I write?”
He didn’t hesitate: Vinegar Hill.
Writing the Genealogy of a Community
And so I went to work!
For four to five months, I researched and wrote in an encyclopedic style — something I had never attempted before. I approached Vinegar Hill the way I would approach a family line — treating it like the genealogy of a neighborhood.
What I discovered shocked me.
Vinegar Hill was Houston’s first red-light district — a wedge of vice and survival in the late 1800s. Gambling, saloons, narcotics, and prostitution flourished there under the rule of Caroline Riley, known locally as the “one-eyed terror” and the Queen of Vinegar Hill.
📖 Excerpt from the eBook
Houston: Past, Present, and Progress (TSHA, 2017)
“At the center of Vinegar Hill’s den of infamy was the legendary ‘Queen of Vinegar Hill’ — Caroline Riley. Often called the ‘one-eyed terror,’ Riley, a Black woman who arrived in Vinegar Hill about 1867 and had many run-ins with law enforcement, was regarded as intelligent but also ‘cunning’ and ‘treacherous.’ She ruled with an iron fist.”
🗺️ Visual Spotlight: Sanborn Map of Houston (1896)
This Sanborn map highlights the triangular block known as Vinegar Hill — sitting right on the doorstep of Freedmen’s Town, Houston’s historic 4th Ward.
And here’s where the research turned into revelation:
Vinegar Hill sat right up against the neighborhood where my own maternal grandfather lived at age seven.
Suddenly, this wasn’t research anymore — it was recognition.
It was family-adjacent history.
It wasn’t just a map anymore. It was my people’s backyard.
Why This Story Matters Now
When I stopped blogging regularly in 2017, most folks assumed life had simply gotten busy. The truth is, I was caring for my mother in her final years while meeting the deadlines for this TSHA project. She passed in December 2019. Then COVID-19 changed the world.
Through all of it, the discipline I learned writing Vinegar Hill never left me. It gave me the stamina and clarity to pour myself into my own family history projects — especially Looking for Lincy, my ongoing journey to trace my 3x great-grandmother.
So here I am, in 2025, returning to blogging not as the same person who left, but as someone sharpened by loss, growth, and the power of history — both communal and personal.
Closing the Circle
I once thought Vinegar Hill was simply my first published piece.
Now, I see it as a bridge:
From Houston’s forgotten neighborhoods to my family’s Freedmen’s Town roots.
From hesitant first-time writer to a genealogy hobbyist who can “hang with the best of them.”
From hiding in plain sight to stepping back into the light — ready to tell the stories that matter.
So if you ever stumble across Entry #18 in the TSHA eBook — or the Handbook of Texas Online — know that’s me. And know that my journey back to Claiming Kin has always been about more than family trees. It’s been about truth, place, and the legacy we carry forward.
It’s about communities, legacies, and the stories we leave behind.
Rooted in truth,
Liv 🌿
Before you go…
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever been published in a local history project, a community newsletter, a city magazine, or a state-level publication?
Or has a piece of your own writing ever marked a turning point in your journey?
Share your story in the comments — I truly want to know.
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