Robert Draper was a staff writer at Texas Monthly from 1991 until 1997. He is now a contributing writer at the New York Times magazine and National Geographic as well as a correspondent for GQ magazine. Draper is the author of several works of fiction and nonfiction, including the New York Times best-sellers Dead Certain: The Presidency of George W. Bush and Do Not Ask What Good We Do: Inside the U.S. House of Representatives. A native Houstonian, he now resides in Washington D.C.
After nearly fifty years of working Matagorda Bay, Vernon Bates could soon watch his business shut down for good—and so could the thousands of other shrimpers who make their living on the Gulf Coast.
It was strange enough that I returned to my hated Houston high school after twenty years—but stranger still, I enjoyed it.
If U.S. officials put an end to illegal trips across the Rio Grande at Boquillas, the enchanting border town will find itself caught between countries and cultures. Of course, that’s where it has always been.
Galveston native Tilman Fertitta made his share of enemies when he was building his seafood empire in the eighties. These days, though, he’s winning over his hometown, and he’s doing it by taking on the island’s most influential family.
In the wake of Heaven’s Gate, the media marched en masse to Abilene, the home base of the House of Yahweh, whose charismatic leader, Yisrayl Hawkins, was supposed to be the next David Koresh. Not even close.
The killing of Ezequiel Hernandez, Jr., by a U.S. Marine in the tiny town of Redford raises many questions—most troubling of all, Why are armed soldiers patrolling the border?
Up on federal drug charges for the second time in fifteen years, the impresario of Antone’s nightclub in Austin may finally have to face the music.
Everyone expected Clark Kent Ervin to parlay his loyal Bush Republicanism into big things in Washington. Which is why his sudden exit from the Department of Homeland Security was so surprising.
For the residents of a tiny Panhandle town, a horrific accident at the State Fair fifty years ago reverberates still—and will haunt them forever.
A generation after he crossed the border to work for my family, Vicente Martinez is the foreman of a ranch in the Hill Country, not far from his kids and grandkids. And yes, they all have their papers. This is an immigration story with a happy ending.
“All you’ve got is a famous name,” a Republican operative told George W. Bush. But six years later he was governor, and six years after that he was president. And six years after that, his place in history—not to mention the fate of the world—is a little uncertain.
What happened to the brave men of Bravo Troop is everything, writ small, that’s gone wrong in our nearly-five-year fiasco of a war in Iraq.