25 Things I Love About Dallas
A tribute to the best things that make Dallas, well—Dallas.
When I went to Europe in 1981, Americans were no more popular there than they are now. As soon as I opened my mouth, hotel clerks and waiters would scowl at me and ask me where I was from. If I said, "America," I might not get a room or a meal. But if I said, "Texas," they would break out in a big smile, say, "Bang, bang! Who shot J.R.?" and we would be the best of buddies. So I learned to love Dallas because it probably saved my hide more than once during that journey. As for Dallas, I'd hardly ever been there at the time, and from all reports, I wasn't missing much. But during numerous visits over the next two decades, I discovered many reasons to love the actual, much-maligned city, reasons that have nothing to do with its well-known tourist attractions (the Sixth Floor Museum, the Dallas World Aquarium, the flagship Neiman's downtown, Pioneer Plaza's herd of bronze Longhorns), its 80 billion restaurants, or even a prime-time soap opera. Don't believe me? Keep reading.
1. I thought about claiming that the DOWNTOWN SKYLINE is best viewed from your car as you cross the Trinity River via Houston Street. But since Houston runs one-way here—out of town—the cityscape would be in your rearview mirror. Hmmm. Okay, head back into town via Jefferson (also one-way) for a commanding view of what Norman Mailer once charmingly described as "a collection of Kleenex boxes standing on end": Reunion Tower, which blossoms like a giant onion, on your left; the Bank of America Plaza, Dallas' tallest building, outlined in argon tubing that lights up the night with the color of money; and reassuringly, in the midst of it all, the familiar red horse still flying atop the Magnolia Building. I was proud of myself for discovering this particular view—until I learned it was the one shown during the opening sequence of Dallas.
2. Confronted with towering pyramids of melons, tomatoes, peppers, squash, peaches, eggplant, and on and on, shoppers at the DALLAS FARMERS MARKET must figure it's better to eat their veggies than be crushed by them. But awesome as this cornucopia was, I was even more impressed with the offerings at Texas' Own Texas Grown, the sole booth in the market's sun-drenched Cesar Chavez Plaza. Here, on the Saturday morning I visited, Jackie King served up the market's only certified organic produce, grown by a handful of the state's farmers: perfect squash blossoms, the cutest bunches of carrots I've ever seen, Sweet Heart watermelons, black-eyed peas, chocolate mint, and leeks so lovely I thought they were ceramic. Downtown between Harwood and Central Expressway just north of I-30 West, 214-939-2808, dallasfarmersmarket.org. Open daily.
4. Of all the plazas, memorial squares, and grassy knolls in downtown Dallas, the two-acre water garden a FOUNTAIN PLACE is my favorite escape from the city in the city. Surrounding a green-glass tower designed by I. M. Pei and Partners are stair-stepped walkways, tiered pools complete with waterfalls and 172 bubbling fountains, and a battalion of bald cypress trees. In a central plaza, 360 computer-programmed high-pressure geysers spurt from holes in the concrete. In all, some 35,000 gallons of water circulate through ten miles of pipe every minute—one engineering feat that actually has a calming effect. 1445 Ross Avenue, fountainplace.com.
3. "Sensory overload" is the theme four nights a week a DON CARTER'S ALL-STAR LANES DALLAS WEST. You've got your throbbing music, courtesy of video jockey George Crenshaw. Big screens hang over the lanes so you won't miss a move by Justin Timberlake or Sean Paul as you try for that impossible spare. The place is as dark as a disco, the better to see the tiny runway lights that race up and down the sides of the lanes. Bowlers dance up to the line. And best of all, beneath the oh-so-seventies black light, the fluorescent pink, orange, or green bowling balls glow like spheres of nuclear waste. My gutter balls never looked so dangerous. 10920 Composite Drive, 214-358-1382, doncarterbowling.com/dallas_west.html. Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m., Saturday till 3 a.m.; from $1.29-$2.99 a game per person to $27 an hour per lane; shoes $3.75.
5. As Deep Ellum continues to morph from fringe to mainstream, its edgier factions are migrating a wee bit east to EXPOSITION PARK, where straight-shooting industrial buildings have been transformed into art studios for both working and living. Quaint thirties storefronts—some shaded by trees, others with grand views of monumental Fair Park—house a smattering of businesses: cafes, clubs, art galleries, a vintage-clothing store. But this is not some New Age slackerville. In fact, multitasking seems the norm. New Amsterdam Coffeehaus, for instance, doubles as a homey bar with Sierra Nevada on tap and Nina Simone on the juke box. And at Bar of Soap, a watering hole cum washateria, you can sip some suds while you spin your duds. At the intersection of Exposition and Parry avenues.
6. The 9.3-mile WHITE ROCK LAKE BIKE TRAIL was so flat and smooth that I wanted to ride forever. (And the next day, my rear end insisted I had.) I found lots of stuff to gawk at as I pedaled around the lake: the 1929 deco bathhouse, built back when swimming in the lake was allowed and now reborn as a cultural center; H. L. Hunt's replica of Mount Vernon, also dating from 1929, which sits on a vast St. Augustine lawn right out of a sod salesman's fantasies; the faraway towers of downtown, ghostly through the smog; the spillway where egrets fish; and picnic areas shaded by enormous pecan trees and sprinkled with rustic structures built in the thirties by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Maps available at the Dallas Parks Office, 830 E. Lawther Drive (214-670-8281), and at whiterocklake.org.
7. Am I hip? I sure felt like it during my afternoon at the MCKINNEY AVENUE CONTEMPORARY,or the MAC, an art and performance venue that's been stirring the pot for nine years. I actually understood the meanings of Douglas Bourgeois' vivid and obsessively detailed narrative paintings. (Okay, okay—the explanations posted beside most of them were a big help.) Then, feeling darned-near intellectual, I also took in a staged reading of a contemporary play at the center's Kitchen Dog Theater. I didn't understand all of Possum Carcass, but, hey, neither did the man sitting next to me, and he was a member of the National New Play Network visiting from Phoenix. I think I did get most of the jokes, though, and even laughed out loud. Tell me, what more can you ask of art? 3120 McKinney Avenue, 214-953-1212, the-mac.org. Closed Monday and Tuesday.
8. Of the city's three—count 'em, three—art-film houses, the INWOOD THEATRE wins my vote. Built in the forties, when West Lovers Lane and Inwood Road met in wide-open countryside, the nostalgic Inwood became Dallas' first indie house in 1981, quite a transition for a theater that once ran The Sound of Music for two straight years. But perhaps its avant-garde future was always written (or at least painted) on its walls and ceiling, which still sport the aquatic murals created in the forties by Perry Nichols, one of the groundbreaking group of regional artists called the Dallas Nine. The night I was there, the Inwood Lounge, the theater's retro martini bar, was packed with film buffs dissecting Owning Mahowny. 5458 West Lovers Lane, 214-764-9106, landmarktheatres.com/Market/Dallas/InwoodTheatre.htm.
9. With its narrow, tree-lined streets, apartment balconies, and sidewalk cafes, the freshly minted mixed-use development of WEST VILLAGE is urban Europe à la Disneyland. But that's not to say it isn't inviting, in a squeaky-clean sort of way, with its blend of numbingly familiar chain stores (think coffee and T-shirts) and an eclectic selection of homegrown shops. An art cinema and a clutch of internationally flavored eateries (Nikita, Paciugo Italian Gelato, Taco Diner, Paris Vendome, Crú Wine Bar, Ferré Ristorante) keep the cosmopolitan buzz going well into the night. Late one Thursday evening, West Village was absolutely stuffed with people just like me—if I wore designer clothes, carried a tiny dyed-to-match dog, and had a standing appointment at the tanning salon. Between McKinney and Cole avenues, north of Lemmon Avenue; westvil.com.
10. How did this happen? How did Dallas manage to see the light of light-rail before, say, Austin? The 44-mile-long DART RAIL SYSTEM, which opened in 1996, runs from Garland and Plano in the far north and east to Ledbetter in the south. And people actually use it: Ridership in 2002 topped 13.7 million passenger trips. My favorite stretch is where the train burrows into the earth south of Mockingbird Station, traveling through the dark at 65 miles an hour, before disgorging passengers into the cool, quiet CityPlace Station, 120 feet below ground. Texas-size escalators or a nifty glass elevator whisk you up to street level when you're ready to resurface. 214-979-1111, dart.org. Single trip $1.25, local day pass $2.50, senior citizens 50 cents and $1, children under 5 free; tickets available from vending machines at each station.
11. ELLIOTT'S HARDWARE, in business since 1947, is filled with solutions to industrial-age problems. Need to keep things rolling? One fifty-foot aisle is stocked with nothing but casters and replacement wheels. Missing your spring? You can pick from a selection ranging in size from a baby pill bug to a human forearm. Handypersons can choose from a couple dozen varieties of hammers and even more things to hit with them. There are softer wares too, like horse tack and a vast selection of oven mitts. And unlike those mega-home stores where the helpful folks in orange aprons are as elusive as leprechauns, here you can't swing a four-foot turnbuckle (yes, Elliott's has one) without hitting a friendly, knowledgeable clerk. 4901 Maple Avenue, 214-634-9900. Closed Sunday.
12. Sometimes it's tough to find much in my Anglo heritage to thump my chest about, bu AFTERNOON TEA AT THE ADOLPHUS HOTEL is worthy of cultural pride—as long as you've got nothing against gluttony. In the hotel's posh lobby, surrounded by dark wood paneling, seventeenth-century Flemish tapestries, English antiques, and floral arrangements the size of the queen herself, tea captain Manuel Adame takes the ceremony to theatrical heights. He introduces you to the teas, letting you sniff before deciding, brews you a massive pot, then scampers off for the first of your three courses. Time passes in a blur of bite-size sandwiches (egg salad, watercress, and cucumber), scones with Devonshire cream, éclairs, lemon and fruit tarts, opera cakes, and chocolate roulade—washed down with sips of, say, pear caramel tea and followed by oh-my-god-no chocolate truffles. Through it all, classical piano music (you might catch composer Ken Boome at the keys) lulls you into believing that gorging on cream puffs is nothing short of your ancestral duty. 1321 Commerce, 214-742-8200, hoteladolphus.com. After a summer break, tea service resumes on September 12, Thursday through Sunday from 3 to 5 p.m.; $35, reservations required.
My Library
