The GOP and Democratic chairmen are both from Texas. Right there the similarity ends, or begins, no, ends.
I see Ross Perot as a throwback, a distinct cousin to two types of 19th century mythical American heroes. In his deeds, Perot is as gargantuan—as wonderful and awful and ridiculous—as Davy Crockett. In his idealisms, Perot would fashion himself, and the rest of us, after one of the proper
All roads have to go somewhere; but it could be that roads in Texas are going the wrong way.
We Texans have always seemed to drive more, and farther, and for perhaps stranger reasons, than just about anyone else. Young people in the bleak and monotonous landscapes of West and North Texas grew up accustomed to endless, aimless rides around the countryside and to regular trips into the cities
PEYTON PLACE COMES TO DALLAS Bill Peyton’s antiques, ranging from the most elaborate Louis XIV or Napoleonic pieces to funky wine presses, Coca-Cola mirrors, church pulpits, and pump organs, come from all over Europe in 40-foot containers, or from estates in Texas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana. For 15 years he has
JUSTICE IN EL PASO Southern California mystery writer Ross McDonald in his best book, The Goodby Look, has his world-weary private eye hero Lew Archer lament, “I have a secret passion for mercy . . . but justice is what keeps happening to people.” Richard Wheatley’s justice for filing