What kind of woman gets her own skin-care company, a place in Nouvelle Society, and the second-most-eligible bachelor in the world? Meet Georgette Mosbacher.
An entrepreneur captures customers in public rest rooms. A high-tech plant moves from oil to medicine. Space and biomedical manufacturing are finally off the drawing boards. And a former union boss becomes a bingo mogul.
As the president of Texas’ largest private grocery chain, Charles Butt learned that in order to be nice to his customers he had to be tough on his competitors. And vice versa.
For years Jamail’s was the queen of Houston grocery stores. Now the Jamail family is at odds, and two rival chains are getting ready for a major food fight.
Going broke is for poor people. Here’s a whole chapter of Texans who have found ways to clear the books without losing their ranches, Rolls, or Rolexes.
When newspaper entrepreneur William Dean Singleton bought the ailing ‘Dallas Times Herald,’ people thought he was crazy. When he bought the ‘Houston Post,’ they were sure of it.
For 68 years, Rosengren’s Books in San Antonio gave personal service, sought out both arcane and popular titles, and fostered a love of reading. It wasn’t enough to keep the store in business.
The rich and eccentric heir to a rich and eccentric Galveston family, Shearn Moody, Jr., craved an empire all his own. But his lack of self-restraint cost him his bank, his insurance company, his fortune, and now, perhaps, his freedom.
In the early eighties, some Dallas savings and loans reaped profits in real estate investments while land was flipped, appraisals were inflated, and property was developed. Now the land deals have flopped, property values are deflated, and there are empty buildings all over town. And some S&Ls are broke
Texas Air chief Frank Lorenzo took an airline with no profits and limited prospects and built it into the country’s largest. How? By betting like the sky’s the limit.
Will deprivation, humiliation, and confrontation lead the way to a better, more confident you? A new self-help craze sweeping Texas wants you to think so.
Texans are always looking for a new frontier, a place where business people can do business without worrying about a lot of bureaucrats. Want to make it in Texas today? Come to Belize.
At a time when Texas seems to have lost its gift for creating fortunes, there has emerged a group of entrepreneurs who are making money by catering to the needs of people who are going broke.
They have done it all: saved New York City and Massachusetts, written economic classics, created new companies, and turned old ones around. Now, at our request, they’re fixing Texas.
One school of thought holds that when the economy is in a nosedive, that’s the time to go into business. At least that’s what a farmer, an oilman, a developer, and a banker believe.
We gave a bunch of smart Texans $50,000. (Okay, we didn’t really, we just said we did.) The money comes with these strings attached: it has to be invested in Texas now, and the investments have to pay off by 1996.
In boom times, John Connally and Ben Barnes used their political magic to build a sprawling real estate empire. Now they’re in a desperate struggle to keep themselves afloat.
A new class of self-styled experts called prosperity consultants say they have the solution to Texas’ economic bust: the bad times are all in our heads.
Their business may read like a sci-fi script, but these aging astronauts, former Nasa engineers, technocrats, and high-risk junkies are serious about selling space.
The continuing saga of the Hermann estate scandal was a shocking lesson in how Houston’s most-respected philanthropists, civic leaders, and biggest deal makers had abused their power.
From the heights of the Dallas social heap, they leaped to the national celebrity circuit. Rich, young, and fashionable, Twinkle and Bradley Bayoud are a case study in how to rise to the top.
The Hermann estate scandal exposed Houston’s most powerful deal makers, most respected philanthropist, and leading lawvers to the harsh glare of publicity. It was a shocking lesson in the abuses of power.
Robert Sakowitz set out to be a retail Renaissance man. Like his hero Leonardo da Vinci, he was going to do everything. And he did—including something he never imagined: fail.
