Dick J. Reavis is a former staff writer at Texas Monthly. He has written about motorcycle gangs, undocumented immigrants, guerrillas, convicts, coal miners, security guards, and banks for publications as diverse as Soldier of Fortune and the Wall Street Journal. He is a professor in the English department at North Carolina State University.
A book on Mexico by New York Times correspondent Alan Riding is a little more than a rehash of recent history.
He left his parents’ house in search of a world where things were black and white, where there were heroes and villains. What he found in the slums of Port Arthur was a world that would tolerate people like him—and take advantage of them.
Before Ruiz v. Estelle, prisons in Texas were the safest, most productive, and most economical in the nation. Now—after costs have quadrupled—our prisons are the most dangerous in the U.S.
Battles at the border; weirdos at the Starck Club; monument at the end of the tracks; Mr. Migra goes after Zopilote; Baptists at each other’s throats.
Pancho Barrio, an ex-accountant, a charismatic Catholic, and the mayor of Juarez, hopes to topple the ruling party in a July governor’s race.
Houston is famous for medical cures. But when British rock star Ronnie Lane came to town with a crippling disease and $1 million for research, all he got was crippling legal problems.
Don Williams won’t do beer commercials, sign autographs, or sing in honk-tonks. If that means he isn’t a superstar, that’s fine with him.
I’ve long dreamed of driving every highway in Texas. This year I’m doing it—all 32,000 miles worth.
In his dream to create a dynastic empire along the Rio Grande, Chito Longoria went against the wishes of his family and the values of his native land.
The view from the Great Freeway: I-35 is two things, the speediest drive from Dallas to the Valley and the clearest division of Texas into West and East.
The Rio Grande Valley never had a valley—except in the minds of developers who invented its name.
Out of the Valley and into the Borderlands, where the architecture is erratic, the radio is heavenly, and the peso has lost its power.
Travels through the Trans-Pecos—splendor in the Big Bend, the greening of the Alpine grasslands, today’s version of profitable ranching, escape from the rat race in South Brewster County, innkeeping Indians in Van Horn—to El Paso, way out on the edge of Texas.