Tuff Hedeman was born in El Paso and raised on rodeo. Today he’s one the best bull riders in the world.
Happy two-hundredth birthday, Stephen F. Austin. You were the Father of Texas—and more.
Fire may have destroyed the oak tree at Crider’s Hill Country dance hall, but our fond memories of it will always live on.
Since AIDS infected their lives, the proud, the deeply religious Allens have been left to ponder the eternal questions of faith and suffering.
His wives! His lives! A bountiful birthday guide to Sam Houston, Texas’ ultimate hero.
All across Texas, vandals are searching for ancient treasures by looting Indian campgrounds—including the one on my family’s ranch.
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
Bigger than life, drive-in movies defined America’s giddy age of hula hoops, poodle skirts, and blue suede shoes.
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
Memories of growing up (and growing up restless) in working-class Oak Cliff.
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?
It chopped, it scraped, it cut, it carved! Texas’ own Alibates flint helped civilize a continent.
Vintage Texas postcards depict larger-than-life views in hyper hues.
Rodeo, rodeo, wherefore art thou rodeo? Mary Ellen Mark went to small towns all over Texas to find out.
Through sickness and health. Texas humorist John Henry Faulk was my mentor, my idol, my friend.
“Just how hard can it be to build a playground?” I asked. The answer: Harder than anything I’ve ever tried before.
Dallas’ Bonehead Club revels in a well-deserved reputation for contrariness.
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
All I wanted to do was photograph the running of the bulls. I never intended to risk my life.
Once part of a vast South Texas ranch, Lebh Shomea is a spiritual retreat where pilgrims listen to what absolute quiet has to say.
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.
One man’s quest to clear the reputation of an animal maligned.
A tip of the cap to Texas’ crowning glories.
Nice-guy bodybuilder Larry North has muscled his way into Dallas’ power circles.
On the hundredth anniversary of San Antonio’s Fiesta, a duchess from the 1963 court still cringes at her memories of the social whirl.
Retracing the trail that tamed the Texas wilderness—the Camino Real.
Searching for tourist courts, fillin’ stations, and other relics of a Texas that is no more.
On September 8, 1900, a devastating hurricane blasted Galveston, changing life on the Island forever.
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.
In her golden years, a lady is free to be imperious, incorrigible, impertinent, and altogether indispensable.
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.
Forty-two extraordinary tales from forty-two ordinary Texans.
But for this ever-so-practical invention, Texas history as we know it would be gone with the wind.
Why we are so soon parted.
Five favorites from the wide-open spaces, in words and pictures.
In which a landlubber chronicles the saga of getting his sea legs aboard the good ship Elissa.
To the people of Austin, the poisoning of an ancient tree was more than a crime; it was a blasphemy.
Three cheers for Lawrence Herkimer and his leap to fame.
Reflections and recollections of life among the shadows of the Piney Woods.
Once upon a summer, children whiled away their twilight time with outdoor games like Piggy Wants a Whistle, Witch o’ Witch, and Fox Across the River.
In early 1836, after the fall of the Alamo, a small episode in Texas history revealed an aspect of our character we’d just as soon forget.
Among the harsh mountains of Chihuahua, Mennonite immigrants and Tarahumara Indians maintain their ancient ways.
They were the classic Texas Indians—fierce, majestic, and free. Today’s Comanches find their lives defined by legends and bitter truths.
It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. Had the time come to put my father in a nursing home?
What kind of dish would a Texas clubwoman invent? One that’s not too greasy, not too spicy, and, well, sort of tasteful.