One of the state’s strongest contenders for a gold medal at the Summer Olympics will be San Marcos high jumper Charles Austin. That’s assuming that the 24-year-old Austin, the reigning world champion in the high jump, makes the team at the Olympic trials in late June. He is one of
Ward and deejays Murphy, Milton, and Love rap about rappers.
A graphoanalyst sees personality writ large in the smallest of details.
Sam Greer admired his wife’s work—so much that he decided to share it.
As the sole studio photographer in Granger from 1924 to 1955, John Trlica recorded on film most of the important occasions—public and private—in the Central Texas farming community. Because Trlica kept meticulous records and saved every negative, his shop became the repository for an intensely documented history of a small
A Dallas stylist’s patrons enjoy hair-raising experiences.
“Still ahead of its time, even after twenty years,” says architect Doug Michels about Ant Farm’s futuristic House of the Century, designed and built in 1972. The colony of anti-establishment architects (of whom Michels was one) christened themselves Ant Farm in honor of the toy ant colonies popular in the
Students’ attention wanders when commercials come on the tube—just like at home.
Our fearless reporter survives a close encounter with UFO investigators.
The ravenous whitefly is after our crops—and insecticides don’t even faze it.
Opponents muck up the fate of Texas’ best swimming hole.
Rains uncover an ancient dinosaur playground in an Austin park.
A librarian takes San Benito’s city hall by storm.
Suzanne Coleman reveals the secret of her success: “You have to be a sentimental fool.”
Arms maker Jim Leatherwood produces one ugly gun.
Water acts may ebb and flow, but since 1950 the polyester-clad mermaids at San Marcos’ Aquarena Springs have barely had time to keep their heads above water. Their subaquatic dances are a tribute to the popularity of such swimming celebrities as Esther Williams and Johnny Weissmuller, a testament to
Larry Peterman is a revisionist where suckers are concerned. His new tequila lollipop con gusano (complete with the worm) is his take on making hard liquor palatable: “We tried using mescal,” he says, “but it tasted so bad—kind of like burned dirt with rubbing alcohol—that nobody would eat it.”
Igor Fedotov and Eugene Cherkasov fiddle around in Midland.
The Choctaw Nation’s cavernous hall accommodates a weekly flood of fanatical game players.
Dallas sportswriter Skip Bayless takes his column high tech.
An ethnic club’s new home brings a touch of Germany to San Antonio.
A third-generation rancher rebuilds his spread by just saying no to cattle.
A seminar thrives on the public’s fear of being sued.
Hiking in a country setting? Great, but not in my back yard, say rural citizens.
A state breeding program aims to fatten up the trim, pugnacious bass.
An Austin artist makes a stringed instrument of monumental scale.
Whether on the field or on the tube, Steve McMichael’s roughhousing grabs fans.
Space Center Houston will wow crowds with Disney gimmicks.
Quick: Name the Laredo brothers who were world bantamweight champs at the same time.
Ken Barnes wants to keep his dinosaur fossils near home.
If the National Coalition of Free Men has its way, man-bashing won’t go unprotested.
Candelaria’s only well supplied free water to all until the EPA weighed in.
Gary Bledsoe, the new head of the Texas NAACP, doesn’t dodge the tough questions.
Charm and know-how got Runnels a spot on Ronald’s team.
Triumph at the track comes naturally for a man called Bingo.
Houston’s Young Turk music producers have cut a new groove in the record industry.
Every day is Christmas for Claus clone Carl Anderson.
Urban climbers have all the ups and downs of cityscapes in their grasp.
The Cisneroses aren’t the only ones in the Alamo City fighting over their divorce.
“Mexico Mike” Nelson writes the book on seeing Mexico by automobile.
For the Bush administration, Lubbock is still the hub of popular opinion.
A breakdown in state tow truck regulation leaves motorists stranded.
Dallas’ Bonehead Club revels in a well-deserved reputation for contrariness.
New guides to Houston and Metroplex eateries hash it out.
The most satisfying part of being a Houston Oilers fan isn’t their record this season or quarterback Warren Moon’s command of the run-and-shoot offense or the way the home crowds get so worked up that they threaten to blow the roof off the Astrodome. No, it’s that distinctive drawl on
Troubles disappear when they’re seen in the proper light.
Trans-Pecos ranchers grapple with El Paso over the West’s most valuable resource.
Brown’s formula for success guarantees a happy ending.
Where else but Texas would a rocker go to record Buddy Holly?
A private club’s prolonged turf war of the sexes leaves everyone teed off.
