Touts
With The Palace of Amateurs, the Plaza Theatre brought a sparkling Mariel Hemingway to Dallas and a lofty new theatrical standard to Texas.
Here’s to the unsung heroes of Eastland: my grandfather and his V.C. menu.
The Supreme Court scores one for Texas against the Yankees; blame the recession on InterFirst; why Phil Gramm makes a great Republican; an oil squabble matches the greedy little independents against poor, starving Big Oil.
A new era for Texas prisons; a new view of Wichita Falls; a new look, alas, for a Dallas street; a new metropolis in East Texas; a new generation of frat rats.
Crosbytown and Texas Tech wanted to harvest a major local resource: the sun. But then the feds stepped in, and the issue switched from energy to power.
Nick Nolte is a journalist dodging bullets and political involvement in Under Fire. The Right Stuff is about Americans, space, and manifest destiny. The Big Chill is a warm look at the cooling of sixties idealism.
Great moments in the conspiracy time line.
After twenty years these are the assassination theories that still survive.
Assassination buffs come in all shapes and convictions—archivists, technologists, mob-hit theorists, and more—but they are all obsessed with Lee Harvey Oswald, and his crime is the focus of their lives.
A great man was dead and an outraged world desperately wanted someplace to lay blame. It chose Dallas and changed the city forever.
Twenty years ago he thrust himself into our lives; he is there yet.
Houston likes to think it discovered Erie Mills, but it’s willing to share the winning young star with the rest of the opera world.
Dueling cornucopias.
In The Desert Rose Larry McMurtry’s heroines never blossom into believable women. The Franchise is a tough tale about graft and the gridiron.
Robert Frank took casual but expressive snapshots that captured dramas of American life and altered the course of modern photography.
Texans are sometimes driven to drink.
To become more than a perpetual boom town, Dallas needs a foresighted leader and astute politician. Is Starke Taylor the man?
It’s a bank-eat-bank world out there.
Bench warmers and good lookers.
Hurricane Alicia roared through Houston, but somehow it seemed much more real on TV than it did outside my hotel room window.
The National Weather Service blows Hurricane Alicia; how the storm will blow insurance rates; Texas congressmen vie for a plum committee seal; a suggestion for spending the spare $2 million.
Texas becomes a disaster zone; a magazine empire enters the twilight zone; the district attorney’s office in San Antonio is a war zone; problems crop up in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport flight zone.
In Daniel the hero has to bear the burn of his parents’ treason, while the audience must endure a lot of misery. The Moon in the Gutter is a film in search of eclipse. Education Rita is an enjoyable elective.
Minor emergency centers are fine for those who don’t need much more than a Band-Aid, a throat culture, or a summer-camp physical.
Is Claudio Arrau the last great Romantic pianist?
An Arkansas chain has refused to discount small-town buying power. Now it’s ousting local mom-and-pop operations throughout Texas and even giving K Mart a run for its money.
Playing by the rules.
You too can be an author-if you’re willing to publish the book yourself. All you have to have is a stack of paper, a tale to tell, and a couple of thousand bucks.
Football recruiting makes the NCAA see red, but SMU sees orange.
In a glass-and-steel world of Houston skyscrapers, there was nothing like an art deco obelisk or a pink Gothic cathedral until architect Philip Johnson.
When armadillos weighed three tons and the long horns were on dinosaurs.
Everything is bigger in Texas, including the scams.
This one’s a real sleeper.
It’s Post time in the race to take over Houston’s morning newspaper, and here are the odds; Doctor Death takes a holiday in Dallas; a bank merger causes frowns at Fulbright & Jaworski; does Jim Mattox have a future?
Texas highways show their age; Houston punks show their colors; foster parents show they care; A&M shows its macaws; cattle ranchers show their breeding.
Across the Panhandle stretches a thin red line that divides doughty plains dwellers from Texas’ lesser changed.
Bluesman Stevie Ray Vaughan showcases his powerhouse guitar on a nationally released record. Also on new LPs are fellow Texans, from country king George Jones to Austin cutups the Big Boys.
Independent oilmen are still for free enterprise, but these days they also expect a little favoritism from Uncle Sam.
The tale of schlemiels schlemiel, Zelig is as funny, endearing, and slight as Woody Allen himself. Staying Alive is suicidal. The quick Grey Fox jumps nimbly the pitfalls of making a western.
With their 350-degree camera, photographers recorded Houston in the early 1900’s. Half a century later two young photographers found the camera the same but Houston vastly changed.
From his early days in Big Spring, Eugene Anderson wasn’t what he seemed; neither was the mysterious element he later claimed turned water into fuel.
Sometimes women fall in love with men behind bars, but once the bars disappear, the love itself may become the prison.
Jim Cartwright has a classic case of obsession-he owns thousands of records. Under Sung Kwak the Austin Symphony has gone from mediocre to memorable.
The burning cactus.