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Michael Hall

Michael Hall

Michael Hall graduated from the University of Texas at Austin in 1979. Before joining TEXAS MONTHLY in 1997, he was an associate editor of Third Coast Magazine and the managing editor of the Austin Chronicle.

Hall won two 2001 Katy Awards: one for Best Reporter Writing Portfolio and one for Personality Profile/Interview for his July 2001 story “Lance Armstrong Has Something to Get Off His Chest.” He won a Texas Gavel Award in 2003 for his story about capital punishment, “Death Isn’t Fair,” which was also nominated for a National Magazine Award. Hall’s stories have appeared in The Best American Magazine Writing, The Best American Sports Writing, The Best American Nonrequired Reading, and Da Capo Best Music Writing.

He has also written for Trouser Press, the New York Times, Men’s Journal, and the Austin American-Statesman.

Features

Taking Austin in from the city's most iconic summit.

When a rare white buffalo was born in North Texas, thousands came to celebrate the new age he heralded. A year later the animal was dead.

The life of Willie Nelson's guitar.

Is Willie Nelson Santa Claus? We asked him that, and a few other things—like what it's like to get busted and get along with Pat Robertson and Snoop Dogg.

After two decades of sluggish albums, ZZ Top has returned to raunchy, bluesy form. And the little ol' band from Texas owes it all to a hip-hop anthem from the streets of Houston.

The Hill Country Drive, the BBQ Market Drive, the Backwoods Drive, and thirteen other summer trips, from the mountains to the coast, that will take you down some of the prettiest, most picturesque, most wide-open stretches of asphalt Texas has to offer. Buckle up!

Over the past two decades Texas has exonerated more than eighty wrongfully convicted prisoners. How does this happen? Can anything be done to stop it? We assembled a group of experts (a police chief, a state senator, a judge, a prosecutor, a district attorney, and an exoneree) to find out.

Houston attorney Bill Kroger and state Supreme Court chief justice Wallace Jefferson are on a mission to rescue thousands of crumbling, fading, and fascinating legal documents from district and county clerks’ offices all over the state. Can they save Texas history before it’s too late?

In 1982 a man named Wayne East was convicted and sentenced to death for the murder of one of Abilene’s most prominent citizens. To this day, he maintains his innocence. And one member of the victim’s family believes him.

In 1955 Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock” transformed the sound of popular music and made him an international star. Twenty-five years later he was forgotten, desperate, and dying in Harlingen. How did one of the fathers of rock and roll land so far outside the spotlight?

Some people call it a quartoseptcentennial, or a septaquintaquinquecentennial (seriously), but you’d better save your breath. You’ll need it on this wide-ranging 6,000-mile voyage commemorating Texas’s 175th birthday. It starts in Glen Rose, ends in Austin, and stops along the way at 175 places that tell the story of the state, from the grassy field in La Porte where independence was won to the parking garage in Dallas where the Super Bowl was dreamed up; from the Austin dorm room where Dell Inc. was born to the college hall in Houston where Barbara Jordan learned to debate; from the hotel in San Antonio where Lydia Mendoza recorded “Mal Hombre” to the—well, you get the idea. And you’d better get started. The road awaits . . .

For nearly sixty years, a succession of obsessed blues and gospel fans have trekked across Texas, trying to unearth the story of one of the greatest, and most mysterious, musicians of the twentieth century. But the more they find, the less they seem to know.

The faces—and voices—of eighteen Texans who are living the debate over illegal immigration.

The short life and tragic death of Johnny Romano, the youngest professional skateboarder ever.

As the peculiar case of a Fort Bend sheriff’s deputy and his bloodhounds makes clear, the techniques of crime-scene investigation are not as infallible as the TV shows would have us believe. How a misplaced faith in some forensic experts is putting innocent people behind bars.

In the years before anyone had heard of Woodstock or Altamont, teenagers across Texas started bands in their parents’ garages, banging out earnest rock songs on cheap equipment and hoping to hit it big at the local skating rink or VFW post. For some, those dreams won’t fade away.

Driving the River Road, in far West Texas; having a drink at the Mansion on Turtle Creek, in Dallas; fishing for bass in Caddo Lake; eating a chicken-fried steak in Strawn; searching for a lightning whelk along the coast; and 58 other things that all Texans must do before they die.

A fond look back at 22 Texans who died in 2009, from Farrah Fawcett and Walter Cronkite to Brandon Lara and Joe Bowman.

Her decision to close the door on a death row inmate’s final plea has earned the state’s top criminal judge lasting infamy and a misconduct investigation that goes to trial this month. But was she wrong?

Was the quaint East Texas town of Mineola home to a horrific child sex ring? Were the three people sent to prison last year for running it guilty? Was justice served? Depends on which district attorney you ask.

The thirty Texans with the most iconic, unforgettable, eye-popping looks, from Davy Crockett to Beyoncé.

Fifty years ago, a plane carrying Buddy Holly crashed in a remote Iowa cornfield. This month, hundreds of fans will gather at the ballroom where he played his final show to sing, dance, and mourn the greatest rock star ever to come out of Texas.

Our exhaustive, exhausting, strictly scientific (and lamentably fattening) survey of the finest home cooking around, from Maxine’s on Main, in Bastrop, to El Paraiso, in Zapata.

Thirty-seven men, 525 years behind bars for crimes they didn’t commit. Thanks to DNA testing, their claims of innocence have finally been proved—but what happens to them now?

Eighteen hungry reviewers. 14,773 miles driven/flown. 341 joints visited. Countless bites of brisket, sausage, chicken, pork, white bread, potato salad, and slaw—and vats of sauce—ingested. There are only fifty slots on our quinquennial list of the best places to eat barbecue in Texas. Only five of those got high honors. And only one (you’ll never guess which one in a million years) is the best of the best.

In this extraordinary oral history, Willie Nelson’s friends, kin, and collaborators (Jimmy Carter, Emmylou Harris, Robert Redford, Merle Haggard, and many more big names) tell their favorite stories about the Red Headed Stranger.

Summer vacation is right around the corner, but that doesn’t mean you should panic. We’ve rounded up 68 of our favorite things to do with your toddlers, teens, and every kid in between. Dance the hokey pokey. Rope a horse. Eat way too many hot dogs. Zip down a waterslide. And yes, feed the animals.

I know her as my mother, whose womb I emerged from more than fifty years ago. They—the million or so quilting fanatics, mostly women, who spend hours a day with needle, thread, fabric, and sewing machine—know her as a celebrity. She can’t believe it either.

All over Dallas are working-class dreamers with more will than wallet, would-be entrepreneurs who’d start their own businesses if only they had savings, good credit, home equity. That’s what brings them to the PLAN Fund.

Of the many things the first black district attorney of Dallas County is doing, none is more important than rethinking the concept of guilt and innocence.

Twenty-five years after his death, Sam Hopkins is still one of the most influential bluesmen in history—that much we know. But we don’t know nearly enough about who he was.

And for these 8 one-hit wonders, including Balde Silva, of Toby Beau, that’s a good thing: Thanks to wildly successful singles they released many years ago, what might have otherwise been forgettable careers are anything but.

On November 5, 181,500 people crowded into a former cow pasture north of Fort Worth to watch 43 race cars drive really, really fast for five hundred miles. That day, the Texas Motor Speedway would be, measured by population, one of the largest cities in the state. Welcome to NASCAR, Texas.

Most people from Dallas who make it big in the music business get out of town as soon as they can. “That’s what celebrities do,” Erykah Badu says. “I never wanted to be a celebrity.”

They say he ran over Eddie Peltier with his El Camino on a North Dakota Indian reservation in 1983. He says he didn’t do it, and the evidence is overwhelmingly on his side—yet the Plainview native has languished in federal prison for twenty years. It’s long past time for justice to be done.

And Saturday. And Sunday. The arrival of fall means weekends spent watching football, up close and on-screen, and yet another opportunity to love the greatest game on earth for all the usual reasons. Forty-nine of them, in fact.

For twenty years, the Southwestern Writers Collection, on the campus of Texas State University, in San Marcos, has gathered up manuscripts, personal papers, photos, and other mementos from various icons and at least one outlaw. Want to have a look-see?

Spoiler alert: The mythic Marfa lights may not be real. But there’s no way to know for sure, and that’s why they’re cool.

From kayaking on Town Lake to mountain biking around Joe Pool Lake, from bass fishing on Lake Fork to horseback riding on the shores of Lake Whitney, here are some of our favorite things to do in, on, and around Texas lakes.

Like Cindy Sheehan, Gary Qualls lost a son in Iraq. Unlike her, he doesn’t oppose the war.

For that matter, why can’t any incarcerated man or woman with a good reason get one?

More than anything, we hated the moves, the long drives in a hot car with squabbling siblings, then getting to the new post and having to be the new kid all over again.

And why wouldn’t they be? As the head coach of the UT football team, Mack Brown is responsible for the way millions of Texans feel every day.

In the state with the nation’s most celebrated concealed carry law, is it any wonder that the annual convention of pistol packers, peddlers, and promoters was number one with a bullet?

South from Alpine to Study Butte, west to Presidio, north to Marfa, and east to Alpine.

He was, for a while, and look what happened: Today one of the great songwriters in the alternative-rock universe is a 44-year-old manic-depressive living with his parents in Waller. And the worst thing about it is, he’s about to be famous again.

How the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals mistakes toughness for fairness—and gives the state a black eye.

A century after the cowboys and ranchers moved in on the local Apaches, Comanches, and Tejanos, the West Texas town is adjusting to a new breed of excitable invaders: Hollywood fashion arbiters, New York art- world youngsters, Houston superlawyers, and the like. Cappuccino, anyone?

For all her talent and poise, Beyoncé didn't become the biggest star in the world without help. And she got plenty of it from the people who know her best.

That would be 75-year-old Robert Hughes, who has amassed more victories while coaching in Fort Worth than anyone in high school basketball history. For most people, that would be enough.

If the Corsicana native is the best songwriter in Texas, perhaps it's because he knows his material. Hardscrabble upbringing. Sinful behavior. Redemption. Personal tragedy. Profound sorrow. And, finally, more redemption.

Can one man change the world's largest Baptist university? He can if he's controversial preacher-president Robert Sloan, Jr. And, just maybe, one man can destroy it too.

Ten years ago, on a mountaintop in Africa, about to be burned alive by tribal warriors, a teenager saved himself the only way he knew how. Even today, he wonders why he survived.

Where are the best places to eat barbecue in Texas? Six years ago we published a highly subjective—and hotly debated— list of our fifty favorite joints, and now we’ve gone back for seconds. Ten intrepid souls drove more than 21,000 miles in search of 2003’s worthiest ‘cue. Here’s what they came back with: the top 5 and the next 45, plus honorable mentions, great chains, and meat by mail.

Thomas Austin Preston, Jr.—a.k.a. Amarillo Slim—has cut cards with LBJ and hustled all manner of sharpies at pool and Ping-Pong. But at 74, his greatest success continues to be at the poker table, as my $100 and I found out.

Ten years after eighty Davidians died in a government-led siege, a few surviving members of the sect have returned to the plains east of Waco, looking for something. And, in some cases, waiting for David Koresh to return.

Legend has it that an East Texas preacher's homemade flying machine took off in late 1902, nearly a year before Kitty Hawk. Are the history books wrong about who was first in flight—or are they right, brothers?

Most Texans support capital punishment; no one disputes that. But what would they say if they knew about the law-skirting cops, the overzealous prosecutors, the sleeping defense lawyers, and the rubber-stamping appellate court? They’d say they want to fix the system.

He was a ladies' man who owned a tavern. He kept gators in a pool behind the place, into which he liked to toss small animals. He hired women to wait tables, and some of them disappeared. What happened? With Joe Ball, it was easy to believe the worst.

African Masks, two old steam locomotives, Lady Bird's childhood home-and miniature donkeys.

His cache of unpublished interviews and unreleased recordings is unrivaled—but both collector and collection are showing signs of age. Who will save the legacy of the man who saved Texas music?

The life of Roky Erikson—one of the most influential Texas rock and rollers of all time—has been one calamity after another. His family and friends have taken care of him with the best of intentions, but you know what they say about the road to hell.

Picking up the trail of Walker Railey.

As he readies himself for this summer's Tour de France, the two-time winner is battling allegations in Europe and elsewhere that he uses performance-enhancing drugs. He insists he is clean. But proving that is turning out to be one of his toughest challenges yet. He doesn't use performance-enhancing drugs, he insists, no matter what his critics in the European press and elsewhere say. And yet the accusations keep coming. How much scrutiny can the two-time Tour de France winner stand? A lot—which is a good thing, since he's heading back up that hill again.

Andrew Lichtenstein spent six years taking pictures inside Texas' vast prison system. The result is an anthropological study of a brutal culture.

He was one of the most influential cultural figures in Texas–a generous godfather to a generation of rappers, an entrepreneur of Houston's mean streets, the master of a scene fueled by codeine cough syrup and hip-hop beats. When he overdosed in November at the age of 29, it was easy to dismiss him as yet another musician who succumbed to his own success. But his story is more complicated than that.

Nine years after the brutal murder of four teenage girls in a yogurt shop rocked the city of Austin, the police say they have finally caught the killers. But they have no evidence and no witnesses—only two confessions that the defendants say were coerced. Which is why, when the case goes to trial in February, the cops will be on trial too.

Before Elvis Presley became an overweight entertainer in a rhinestone jumpsuit, there was a brief, more innocent time when he wore khakis as an Army private in Central Texas. It was his last chance to be a normal human being. And to be happy.

Family values.

So says Don Baylor, the Austin native now managing baseball’s lowly Chicago Cubs. His players hear him loud and clear, but history has a way of repeating itself.

The places, people and stories behind Texas music.

Buddy Holly. Waylon Jennings. Carolyn Hester. The Hancocks. The Flatlanders. An oral history of the state's most storied music scene.

Want to see the Texas of Leadbelly, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Mance Lipscomb, and other pioneering musicians of the twentieth century? Your trip through time begins near Washington-on-the-Brazos.

Half the state hates them and secretly admires them. The other half admires them and secretly hates them. Such is the plight of the decade’s best high school football team.

In-Spur-ational.

How serial killer Rafael Resendez-Ramirez struck fear in the hearts of the men and women of Weimar, a tiny Texas town that will never be the same.

Officially, the most famous atheist in the world is still missing. But the feds think she’s dead, and they think they know where her body is. They also think they know who’s responsible. And he says he didn’t do it.

Don’t hang their plaques at Cooperstown just yet, but do applaud the accomplishments of Kerry Wood and Ben Grieve. After all, not everyone is Rookie of the Year.

Old country and western in Mingus, zippy zydeco in Bridge City: The shows always go on at these ten tuneful spots.

Folk singer Nanci Griffith thinks the Texas media have been mistreating her. The way she’s fighting back guarantees her trouble with the press isn’t going away.

Conspiracy theories: The Vietnam Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The Shadow Government Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The Secret Service Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The Cuban Exiles Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The Castro Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The FBI Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The KGB Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The LBJ Theory.

Conspiracy theories: The Mafia Theory.

JFK was killed by (a) the mob, (b) Castro, (c) the FBI, (d) the CIA, or (e) none of the above? Decide for yourself.

Conspiracy theories: The CIA Theory.

Grammy came home.

Cormac McCarthy’s birth date and birthplace are just two of the facts about him that have eluded his rabid fans—until now. A dossier on the most fiercely private writer in Texas.

More than a year after his death, he’s still being remembered as the best Texas songwriter of his time. This month’s star-studded Austin City Limits tribute shows why.

Los Angeles How the West is fun.

These five weekend getaways will make you want to do just that.

Columns | Miscellany

Sure, Texas’s criminal justice system is tough. But as Fort Worth inmate Richard LaFuente could tell you, the federal criminal system is even tougher.

It’s time to halt executions in Texas.

An open letter to the greatest cyclist ever.

The wheels of justice (or injustice) continue to turn in the shockingly bizarre Mineola swingers club case.

Dallas

Ernest Willis spent seventeen years on death row for a crime he didn’t commit. And he has a few things to say about the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, who was executed in 2004 for a strangely similar crime that many experts believe he didn’t commit either.

How to take five dozen girls and turn them into eleven rock bands in one week.

"I moved to Austin in 1974, and it was this kind of magical place. The whole alternative culture controlled the town."

You can take the six-time Oscar nominee out of the small town . . .

He looks like a cross between Ed Asner and Uncle Charley from My Three Sons, but don’t get Dave Hickey started on the subject of beauty— his own or anyone else’s.

Reporter

Bill Collings, luthier.

Sharon Keller must go!

The DA and the DNA.

A tip of the hat to risk-taking, barrier-breaking, establishment-tweaking Texans.

Whether burned, shot, or blown up, the brave soldiers who leave Iraq on a stretcher and start to rebuild their lives at Brooke Army Medical Center, in San Antonio, have a lot of fight left in them.

Freedom for Earnest Willis?

When Sul Ross State University professor Larry Sechrest called his neighbors and students idiots and inbreds, the entire town of Alpine rose up against him. Not that he's changed his mind.

Michael Hall bids farewell to a true Champ of the Texas music scene.

Michael Hall riffs about his rock n' roll days.

How the war in Kosovo turned an Austin online company into the Lone Star State Department.

Web Exclusives

From "I'm a Memory" to "Here We Go Again," listen to eight performances that highlight the capabilities of Willie Nelson's treasured guitar.

Richard LaFuente, who was convicted of murder in 1986, has steadfastly proclaimed his innocence for more than twenty years. Now he has some unlikely support in one person—the victim's own sister.

Fifteen years after being released from death row, Kerry Max Cook is still looking for freedom.

It has been twenty years since four teenage girls were murdered in a north Austin yogurt shop—and still no answers.

Abilene law enforcement officials don’t want the convicted murderer back in their part of the state.

The convicted killer of a prominent Abilene resident is set to be released.

Larry Swearingen has ten scientists and doctors who say he isn't a killer. He also has a new execution date.

Some more advice in the wake of Tyler Hamilton’s interview on 60 Minutes.

The “Mineola Swingers Club” cases come to a disgraceful end.

Fifty-eight bands from around the world play Austin Psych Fest 4 April 29–May 1. Michael Hall sits down with the Black Angels, founders of the festival (and the “Reverberation Appreciation Society”) and rejuvenated psychedelic godfather Roky Erickson.

Another defendant in the Mineola child sex ring crimes is found guilty.

New trials for two of the Mineola Swinger's Club defendants.

Is the legendary Texas singer-songwriter a honky-tonk hero or a honky-tonk bully?

The Mineola child sex ring scandal keeps getting weirder.

Michael Hall’s exclusive interview with Ernest Willis.

Even someone who supports the death penalty, as you do, can and should be up in arms over the Cameron Willingham case.

Despite its status as a public health emergency, is the swine flu just another flu?

The Texas attorney general takes a second look at the Mineola child sex ring cases.

When the legendary Liberty Lunch club closed in July 1999, senior editor and musician Michael Hall came up with a way to say goodbye to an era—play “Gloria” for 24 hours straight.

Investigators and social workers in the Mineola Swingers Club cases have admitted that there was plenty of evidence that never made it into the first three trials that resulted in three life sentences. Will it make a difference?

Famed Texas-based guitarist Stephen Bruton was a man who knew how to count his blessings.

Poodie Locke, longtime stage manager for Willie Nelson, died Wednesday at the age of 60.

When adults are accused of unthinkable crimes against children, what’s fact and what’s fiction can get lost in translation.

Someone killed Melissa Trotter and dumped her body in the Sam Houston National Forest. But according to six forensic experts, that someone was not Larry Swearingen.

These six entrepreneurs are members of a unique Dallas program that is bringing the promise of microcredit to the Untied States: one small business at a time.

The story behind this month's cover story, "Lance Armstrong Has Something to Get Off His Chest."

Associate editor Michael Hall tells the story behind this month's cover story, "Viva Fort Hood."

Who says it ain’t the good life? These sixteen clubs, lounges, and dives (including one Hole in the Wall) are the reason Austin is called the Live Music Capital of the World.

An old opera house, Judge Roy Bean’s grave, ancient pictographs—and a drug blimp.

African masks, two old steam locomotives, Lady Bird's childhood home—and miniature donkeys.

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