Born April 2, 1881, in a tiny South Texas coastal town no longer on the map, Clara Driscoll was the second child and only daughter of Robert Driscoll, a self-made wealthy cattleman, and Julia Fox Driscoll. Though she spent her early years near Corpus Christi on the family’s 83,000-acre ranch, by age 11 Clara left Texas to attend private school, first in New York and then in France.
The teenage Driscoll would spend three years abroad before returning to Texas. And though in her lifetime she would circle the globe three times and make 14 trips to Europe, it was that first exposure to what she called the Old World and its reverence for its own antiquity that forever shaped Driscoll’s passion for historic preservation.
If today the concept of protecting historic sites is considered civic common sense, it wasn’t so in a relatively young America at the turn of the previous century. An ambitious, frontier-conquering nation maintained little interest in venerating its architectural relics, let alone on spending resources to preserve them.
In 1901, the 19-year-old Driscoll — newly returned from Europe and bursting with then-radical ideas — found abhorrent the public’s indifference to the crumbling ruins of the Alamo, the very birthplace of Texas independence.
“There does not stand in the world today a building or monument which can recall such a deed of heroism and bravery,” she wrote in letter published by the San Antonio Express newspaper.
Driscoll galvanized her fellow members of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to buy the former mission.
However, when nearly two years of fundraising faltered, in 1904 Driscoll wrote a personal check for $75,000 to cover the cost. That gesture garnered her the lifelong moniker Savior of the Alamo, and on her death in 1945, her body lay in state at the landmark.
During her campaign to save the Alamo, Driscoll met Henry Hulm “Hal” Sevier, an ambitious editor and politician serving his first term in the Texas Legislature. The couple married in 1906, but not before the energetic Driscoll tried her hand at a writing career. In short order, Driscoll penned and published two effusively romantic Texas ranch-themed tales as well as a comic opera, “Mexicana,” the production of which she financed for its short run on Broadway in 1906.
On their three-month European honeymoon, the couple became enamored with the villas and gardens of Italy, particularly those surrounding Lake Como near the Italian Alps. Driscoll kept written accounts and collected photographs of what inspired her, particularly formal Italian gardens, statuary and unusual entrances.
But before they would build Laguna Gloria, the Seviers settled in New York and built a home on Oyster Bay, Long Island, next door to Theodore Roosevelt. Though the Oyster Bay house is long gone, historic photographs reveal its remarkable similarity to Laguna Gloria, with its blend of Italian and Spanish classical architectural details set among formal gardens.
Such revival design dovetails with early-20th-century trends when America’s newly minted millionaire class typically favored architecture that embodied European tradition — an emblem of refinement of taste. Spanish revival and Italian revival architecture found particular favor in the 1910s and 1920s. About the same time as Driscoll built Laguna Gloria, newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst built Hearst Castle in California, a pastiche of historic architectural styles that nevertheless used Spanish and Italian attributes in abundance.
Driscoll and her husband lived at Laguna Gloria until once again a family death changed the course of her life. She moved to Corpus Christi in 1929 to take care of the family business after her brother died. Though she spent two years in the mid-1930s in Chile while her husband was ambassador, Driscoll returned to Corpus Christi, not Austin. The couple divorced in 1937, and Driscoll resumed her maiden name.
Only very occasionally did Driscoll return to Laguna Gloria after 1929. The Galvan family lived on the property, but the villa was shuttered.

Members of the Nazario Galvan family in front of the Driscoll Villa. A talented gardener, Galvan and his family, which would grow to include eight children, lived in the gatehouse, and he remained as caretaker for the property after Driscoll left in 1929. When Clara Driscoll deeded the property in 1943, she stipulated that Galvan remain caretaker until his death. Photo contributed by Contemporary Austin
But during the 1920s, Laguna Gloria prevailed as Austin’s high-society showplace, the destination for any visiting dignitary or celebrity and the site of many a large party or dinner dance. A thousand guests were invited to a 1921 reception for the Texas Legislature. Also, one historical record notes, Driscoll particularly enjoyed celebrating Texas holidays.
When she deeded Laguna Gloria to the Texas Fine Arts Association, Driscoll also donated $5,000 for repairs and maintenance. And she specifically left three possessions in the house: an Italian chandelier in the ballroom, the long dining room table and the Alamo rafter fireplace mantel.
“In the future,” Driscoll wrote of Laguna Gloria in 1943, “it will be used … to preserve the things that are beautiful in life.”
What’s in a name? Plenty of history
In 1943, Driscoll deeded Laguna Gloria to the Texas Fine Arts Association, stipulating that it be used as a museum.
Originally called the Clara Driscoll Art Gallery, in 1961 the Texas Fine Arts Association spun off on its own, and a new organization known as Laguna Gloria Art Museum was established.
By 1996, with its leaders in a decades-long effort to build a downtown location, Laguna Gloria Art Museum became the Austin Museum of Art.
Meanwhile, in 1995, the Texas Fine Arts Association purchased a building downtown at 700 Congress Ave. and in 2002 changed its name to Arthouse.
By 2011, both organizations had hit a rough patch. Arthouse failed to raise enough money for a major remodel to its building, and Austin Museum of Art failed to raise money for a downtown building. The trustees of both groups opted to merge. In 2013, the newly conjoined institution rebranded itself as the Contemporary Austin.
It was a moment of odd historic fate: The merger actually reunited two organizations born of one.
The Contemporary maintains two sites: the downtown Jones Center at 700 Congress Ave. and Laguna Gloria, 3809 W. 35th St.
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