Before joining the Texas Monthly staff, in 1989, executive editor Skip Hollandsworth worked as a reporter and columnist in Dallas and as a television producer and documentary filmmaker. During his tenure with the magazine, he has received several journalism awards, including a National Headliners Award, the national John Hancock Award for Excellence in Business and Financial Journalism, the City and Regional Magazine gold award for feature writing, and the Texas Institute of Letters O. Henry Award for magazine writing.
He has been a finalist four times for a National Magazine Award, the magazine industry’s equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize, and in 2010 he won the National Magazine Award in feature writing for “Still Life,” his story about a young man who, after suffering a crippling football injury in high school, spent the next 33 years in his bedroom, unable to move. The 2011 movie Bernie, which Hollandsworth co-wrote with Richard Linklater, is based on his January 1998 story, “Midnight in the Garden of East Texas.”
Is it possible to have a low-fat chip that tastes good? After three years of top-secret tinkering, Frito-Lay thinks it has hit upon the ultimate snacker’s delight.
Mary Kay Ash and Jinger Heath have made fortunes getting women to buy and sell their beauty proucts. But no lipstick or powder can conceal the ugliness between these Dallas cosmetics queens.
Eleven years after the death of her youngest daughter, Tanya Reid sits in an Amarillo prison. Is she a murderess, or has she been railroaded by overzealous procecutors?
How glad-handing Hollywood and hidebound NASA joined forces to make Apollo 13, one of this summer’s hottest movies.
Should Hollywood remake Giant? On the fortieeth anniversary of the filming of the Texas epic, we imagine Brad Pitt playing jett Rink’s grandson, Quentin Tarantino directing, and other scary scenarios.
Citizens groups in Corpus Christi blame pollution for high cance rates—but they must prove it.
The Humane Society wants to rein in Beltex of Fort Worth, one of the nation’s largest slaughterhouses.
He’s part Susan Powter, part David Letterman, part Dagwood Bumstead—and more.
Twenty-five years ago, in the wake of integration, he was the football star at my mostly white high school in Wichita Falls. Not much has gone right for him since.