Old-timers around Canon recall that in 1959, when Harry Wheeler erected the seven-ton concrete-and-stucco cowboy outside his trading post and curio shop, he had to bring in a truck and crane from a local drilling company to set the big galoot on his feet. Towering over U.S. 60, Tex Randall
THE HOME OF SAM HOUSTON’S WIDOW, Margaret Lea Houston, and their eight children is for sale. A shrine of Texana, the 1830’s Greek Revival classic in the tiny hamlet of Independence comes complete with a Houston family heirloom piano that is said to render a ghostly “Come to the Bower,”
Johnny’s Round Top cafe had a colorful history that spanned more than fifty years before the restaurant went out of business in 1989. Built by a franchiser who was partial to rotating roofs that looked like circus tents, the Round Top in Big Spring was one of a modest chain
Who came first—Indiana Jones of Hollywood or Vendyl Jones of Arlington, the archaeologist who has spent years trying to dig up the fabled Ark of the Covenant?
The ceremony was to honor the four-score living Texans who had participated in the Revolution. They were all quite old, of course. It had been 75 years since 1992, when Texas had become a breakaway republic and, like Tajikistan, Azerbaijan, and the Ukraine in Soviet Russia, sought independence from a
Before Dawn was caught in the terrifying grip of schizophrenia, she had been a talented jazz singer. Now her son-in-law tells her story of no place to go.
These seven creatures might be piggy-backed, whale-boned, dog-toothed, goat-eed, elephant-eared, turtle-necked, and bull-headed, but they’re stars just the same.
Whether it wells from the high pine walls of East Texas, the haunted valleys of the Hill Country, the violent uplifts of the Trans-Pecos, or the salty, low-relief vistas of the coastal plains, the Texas myth shapes and claims us all.
For some, work is its own reward. For others it is a compromise, a trade-off to some ulterior purpose. And yet it is the work that defines us. There is something in the doing that gives us stature and makes us whole.
Texas was founded by risk-takers, place-makers, and folks on the run, and their spiritual descendants are our common stock. Our heritage is not a concert for the fainthearted, but if you hear the music, you’ll want to dance.
Our search for identity is really a search for familial bonds. By our children and our parents, by our forebears and our closest friends, by the reflections of those with whom we surround ourselves, so shall you know us.
When oil and real estate boomed, a lot of Texans rode the tiger. But the beast turned, and those who weren’t devoured faced the prospect of limping back. It has been a long but not uninteresting trip.
