The Crack-Up
You learn one clear and not so very grim lesson by looking death in the face.
You learn one clear and not so very grim lesson by looking death in the face.
Fortunes, falcons, and folderol.
When big-time gymnastics came to Fort Worth, half the contestants were steely-eyed little girls with the bodies of children and the wills of fanatics.
Marlin sidetracks the Missouri-Pacific; school boards wrangle over the handicapped; two Texas Sports magazines slug it out.
Onward through the smoke, upward through defeat, backward through time.
Old what’s-his-name is the most powerful man in Texas; Simone Beck takes her culinary magic show on the road; duck hunters and conservationists battle over a marsh.
Name that cartoon.
Potty training doesn’t have to be the great bugaboo of raising children.
Love in Bloom.
The Electric Horseman got its wires crossed. Kramer vs. Kramer is an above-average film taken from a below-average novel.
Dallas Civic Opera is a grand old lady who knows her European opera. But sometimes she gets a little senile.
Preachers Robert Schuller and Rex Humbard have zeroed in on the modern way to reach a congregation: electronically.
Why Houston has the best schools in the state.
Eminent art critic Barbara Rose has assembled an exhibit of paintings of the eighties. Oh, yeah? Where did she get them?
My friend, you have come to the right place.
Beefing and chewing the fat about a rare pleasure that’s almost done for.
Once Texas was a land of fabulous, ornate county courthouses. It still is, but today they’re flamboyant relics in our streamlined urban landscapes.
Night stalkers and day walkers.
When Stage #1 opened as a halfway house for theater graduates from SMU, the participants weren’t pitied but applauded.
By reputation Dallas is a staid city. But there is one strip where Dallas is fevered, excessive, and lascivious, and where every night is party night.
A helicopter plague descends on Dallas; is the Texas environmentalist an endangered species?; cattlemen won’t be cowed.
Movers and fakers.
George Bush wants to shake your hand; Rita Clements wants to paint your Governor’s Mansion; Dallas wants to bring you art, lots of art.
Letters please.
New records from Texas’ die-hard country, rock, and punk musicians.
The Panhandle is home for the country’s only H-bomb assembly plant. Aren’t you glad we told you?
The Midland Jazz Classic wasn’t cheap, but it was worth the price.
Steering Bum Steers.
A boy and his horse reach great heights in The Black Stallion. The Rose, with Bette Midler, is no American beauty.
At Houston’s Jefferson Davis Hospital, the wonders of modern medicine collide with the raw realities of birth, poverty, neglect and hope.
Galveston has withstood tidal waves, hurricanes, gamblers, and tourists. Can it survive a superport?
Houston and Dallas opera companies could fudge on shoe sizes when it came to casting Cinderellas, but the voices had to fit just so.
A Dallas rabbi says Christmas is a form of persecution for Jews; a Disciples of Christ pastor discusses suffering with equanimity.
Two questions about school desegregation: Is busing the only way? Are integrated schools inferior?
John Updike’s problems are our pleasures. Mean Scrooge McDuck returns in a nostalgic comic-book collection.
Talk to coaches and team owners about AstroTurf and you’ll hear all its advantages. Talk to the players and you’ll hear a different story.
“In the League, you’ll run into a little tradition, some noblesse oblige, and a lot of talk about diets, dyslexia, designer dresses, and divorce.”
You can always spot a smoker. He fiddles with matches, his shirt pocket bulges in a tiny rectangle, and fumes emerge from his mouth and nose. But what should we do about him?
You load sixteen tons, and what do you get? Ask your garbageman.
We’ve found them: nine of Mexico’s best colonial inns and lodges. All you have to do is make reservations.
If you want big, we’ve got big. If you want small, we’ve got that, too.
Heart warmers, house warmers, and nose warmers.
For the sake of the audience, it’s a question that needs to be asked. College productions of A Doll’s House show why actors go to school. Fort Worth has good actors and good producers—but not, alas, in the same theater.
A remembrance of the late Texas playwright who spent his days and nights pondering imponderables.
Al Neiman’s Fortnight the attractions varied between eccentric Americans and somnambulant British.
Will the feds hijack out power? Will Akers slip off to LSU?
Whose blonde, curly scalp are the farmers after how do the rich and powerful run? Why, pray tell, does Houston need parks?
New stars in sight are big and bright—deep in the heart of Texas.
Wee people.