WYATT ROBERTS, THE RADIO TALK SHOW HOST AND cultural watchdog, will tell you that he has been leading a crusade against sin and perversion, but to most of his critics, he simply has a thing about gays and lesbians. Certainly he has taken on the issue of homosexuality with particular vigor of late. His main target has been The Texas Triangle, a statewide newspaper for gays and lesbians. Last December, Roberts organized a boycott of the Triangle’s advertisers on the grounds that the paper’s content is offensive.
ON THE WEEKEND BEFORE Thanksgiving at San Antonio’s Rose Palace, Jerry Long waits for the green “go” light at Booger Barter’s World Championship Team Roping Finals, but he is at a bit of a disadvantage compared with the thousand other cowboys competing for a whopping $40,000 first prize: Long is blind, so he doesn’t even know where the go light is, much less if it’s green.
I FLATTER MYSELF THAT I KNOW A BIT about Texas food. I think about it all the time, I’ve been writing about it for more than twenty years, and I have judged everything from chili cookoffs to a cookie chill-off (it was refrigerated desserts — don’t ask). But during the past year, I discovered to my chagrin that a whole new area had opened up about which I was totally clueless: food on the Internet.
The Shelby County Chamber of Commerce’s brochure touts 21 points of interest in Center (population: 5,827), ranging from the courthouse bandstand and the 1928 icehouse to the old Methodist church cemetery and Bealls department store. It is somehow surprising that Mattie’s Party Line isn’t on the list. But then, it doesn’t need to be.
Dan Rather eases his father-in-law’s GMC Pickup along the roads of Buescher State Park, just outside of Smithville. He seems to know every bend, and every acre seems to prompt a small memory. Some forty years ago, the young newsman from Houston spent his weekends strolling these pathways, holding hands with a local girl he was courting, Jean Goebel from Winchester.
Bill Moyers stood in the wings at the University of Texas’ cavernous performing arts center last spring while the faithful poured in, their hopes caged like anxious doves, waiting for release. Though he had felt this fervor many times before—at times had even cultivated it—Moyers’ ambivalence showed in the tiniest widening of his eyes behind the trademark aviator glasses and the slight but impatient pursing of his thin lips.