This story is from Texas Monthly’s archives. We have left it as it was originally published, without updating, to maintain a clear historical record. Read more here about our archive digitization project. From 1983 to 1986, Texas Monthly’s regular feature, “Western Art,” highlighted artists’ takes on the
Remember when children played dress-up in their own clothes? They still can.
In 1883 the University of Texas got stuck with two million acres of West Texas scrubland. Then it hit oil, and the money started rolling in.
It all started at my grandmother’s when I was seven years old. No biscuit has since measured up, but my lonely search for that sublime confection continues.
There are a hundred of them, and their job is invisibility. They come into giant office buildings after everyone has gone home and, if they do the job right, make the evidence of the day’s work disappear.
At a slightly wacky hotel in southern Mexico, you can lose your inhibitions and find a little romance.
He had it all: a wife and a mistress, a limousine and a motorcycle, the second-highest job at the Pentagon and some good-time Dallas buddies. Then the SEC took an interest in his life.
Why are we crazy for Cadillacs, silly on Suburbans, passionate about pickups? Because Texans love their cars, that's why.
The Public Opera of Dallas aimed its first season at opera greenhorns and scored two bull’s-eyes.
Roger Staubach finds happiness by swapping Rolaids for real estate.
William Humphrey’s Hostages to Fortune tells a sodden fishing story; C.W. Smith’s The Vestal Virgin Room tells of an empty quest for fame; Rosemary Catacalos’ Again for the First Time is an outstanding collection of verse.
“Herd It Through the Grapevine,” a new disc anthology, has the top of the pop crop.
Prince’s Purple Rain is short on plot and dialogue but long on fancy anguish; The Bostonians is a namby-pamby treatment of Henry James’ biting novel.
Trauma for Texas hospitals; more trouble (what else?) for Clinton Manges; why Doggett should win—but probably won’t; and real deals in Houston.
