PERHAPS IT IS GALVESTON’S ISOLATION THAT MAKES ITS politics so contentious. After all, the city is located on a barrier island, and its collective consciousness takes little note of the world beyond the causeway. As a BOI—Galveston shorthand for someone who was Born on the Island—I have memories of civic fights over whether to narrow an esplanade, what color to paint sight-seeing trolleys, and where to allow shrimp boats to dock.
Uh oh. Here come some people I know. I’m going to hide.” Marcy Rogers ducks her head. Across the room at the Mansion on Turtle Creek, three elegant, coiffured women can be seen descending a circular staircase. They scan the mirrored room, but if they recognize the waifish woman with the dark head bowed over a bowl of vegetable chowder, they don’t show it. In the city where she had clawed her way to social acceptance, Marcy Rogers was a pariah.
INDULGE YOURSELF THIS SUMMER.
DON'T withdraw into your air-conditioned cocoon to dream of cool weather, football, and the kids back in school. You did that last summer, and where did it get you?
Find something to do that will change your life; learn to do whatever it is you've always wanted to do; explore an out-of-the-way corner of the state or a part of your own city you never even knew was there; learn a sport; master a craft; set your sights on something you'd ordinarily do for entertainment in the winter.
IN THE LIVING ROOM OF THE old house on the corner, the one with the odd turrets and built-in birdhouses, Clark Gable took acting lessons from old Dr. Webster, who used to teach English at Rice Institute.
Henry Carvill, chairman of the board of an Eastern textile mill, a man who winters at a South Carolina resort and summers in Connecticut, has been giving and receiving gifts from the Neiman-Marcus Christmas Catalogue for years, although he'd never set foot in Texas until recently. Mr. Carvill may be a yankee but he can spot a Neiman-Marcus Christmas wrap from across the room.