Anytime a new lake is built, the local geography changes significantly.  I grew up a few miles from the Navasota River and witnessed the changes when Sterling G. Robertson Dam was completed in 1978.  As Lake Limestone began to fill in short order, some pastureland my uncle had owned in Running Branch bottom gradually sank beneath the rising water. 

Recently I talked with some former residents of the now extinct town of Hagerman in Grayson County.  They remembered what had happened in 1944, soon after the completion of Denison Dam.  The swallowing up by Lake Texoma of their former homesites and school happened in a matter of months. 

My memory of the disappearance of a favorite fishing pond on my uncle’s place (stocked with bass and catfish) was nothing compared to the loss of Claud Crook, who entered first grade at Hagerman School in the fall of 1943.  After the Christmas Break that December, he had to transfer to another school and soon watch the muddy waters of Red River swirl over the spot where his school had stood. 

Jean Shires Hughes, whose family lived in the Katy railroad section house in Hagerman, remembered that they had been among the last to leave town.  The railroad wanted her father to look after their track as long as possible.

There are also those who gain from a new lake.  In Grayson County, Dewitt Loe had the foresight to lease land that would become the site of a very profitable marina on Lake Texoma, known as Loe’s Highport.

We are all beneficiaries of Hagerman National Wildlife Preserve, created in 1946 on the Big Mineral arm of Lake Texoma.  It includes extensive habitat for migrating birds and other wildlife.

Back to Lake Limestone: not all of my uncle’s pastureland was submerged, and that which remained became valuable waterfront lots.  In fact, his sister (my mother) enjoyed a decade or more of selling lake lots (priced by the square inch). 

She and my father also built a lake house on the most beautiful lot of all, atop a gravel hill.  From the porch of that house I could look down on the top of a large, mostly submerged oak tree, which had been near my lost fishing hole.  In fact, when drifting on the lake by boat within sight of the big tree, I could use a depth finder to locate the former pond. 

The general area around my uncle’s pond seemed to be a favorite of lake fishermen.  I would like to think the largest bass (just under 12 lbs.) or the record catfish (a bit more than 30 lbs.) caught in Lake Limestone came from there.

Jerry Lincecum is a retired English professor who now teaches classes for older adults who want to write their life stories.  He welcomes your reminiscences on any subject: jlincecum@me.com