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 Sportswriting, 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.
Innocence Project of Texas executive director Scott Henson says his organization is about more than DNA evidence.
Old friends Robert Earl Keen and Lyle Lovett talk about songwriting Texas music history, and the early days back in College Station.
Twenty-year-old Hayden Pedigo is making the most innovative, audacious music in the country. So why is he still in Amarillo?
Texas’s criminal justice system has seen some staggering changes in the past decade. Thank Cathy Cochran.
A day after a legendary Texas saxophonist died, a legendary Texas keyboard player has also breathed his last.
Maybe it had something to do with the dissent written last week by Judge Tom Price, of the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals.
The Reverend Charles Moore ardently dedicated his life to the service of God and his fellow man. But when he couldn’t shake the thought that he hadn’t done enough, he drove to a desolate parking lot in his hometown of Grand Saline for one final act of faith.
Max Soffar is dying on death row, where he sits for a crime I’m certain he didn’t commit. Maybe this letter will convince you to let him spend his last days at home with his family.
How Johnny Gimble became one of the greatest fiddlers of all time—and showed me and my son a thing or two about playing music.
For 28 years, parole officials tried to get him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit. He refused—and never wavered. This is why he is the bravest man I know.