Phantom Cat of the Valley
Meet the ocelot, not as pet, not as fur coat, but in its best role—an elusive remnant of Texas’ wild past.
Meet the ocelot, not as pet, not as fur coat, but in its best role—an elusive remnant of Texas’ wild past.
Discover another side of the Texas coast—its peerless beachcombing, legendary beer joints, odd birds (feathered and otherwise), and lovable year-round scruffiness.
Like the hero of a boys’ novel, George Bush moved from the East to the wild and woolly West. He wanted to prove himself, by golly, to Yale, Procter & Gamble, and the old man.
Tom Lea, the grand old man of Texas painting, grew up among giants. No wonder he always used a big canvas.
Or, my life as a Texas gardener.
The new governor’s first hundred days were great theater, but now come taxes.
Today’s desperadoes are in the bays of the Texas coast, roping redfish and cursing the Parks and Wildlife Department.
In which John Howard, our toughest athlete, goes after a world bicycle record and hopes america will care.
Most of the time you’re a nice, ordinary businessman. But for one brief, shining moment you were King Antonio, monarch of San Antonio’s Fiesta and semi-beloved ruler of the one Texas city that still loves a good king.
A high school teacher shot up the First Baptist Church in the East Texas steel town of Daingerfield, and the agony lasted longer than anyone could have imagined.
The long afternoons of the best friend the rich women of Houston have ever had.
Texas' glass artists are leading a revolution in an ancient craft.
Shoot enough portraits of Texans, and you'll have made a portrait of Texas.
Meet some of Texas' secular latter-day saints: volunteers.
It’s Houston's driveway, a twenty-mile kaleidoscope of bankers, punkers, strippers, surgeons, students, grackles, and cars.
If you think Texas is pretty much the same as it was ten years ago, you’re wrong. Nineteen seventy-three remade the state overnight.
Can Texans be won over to the antique tradition of tea and little sandwiches in the afternoon? Dallas’ and Houston’s new gilded hotels are counting on it.
Charlie Brooks was the first man to die by lethal injection, but everyone wondered whether he or his partner was the real murderer. In his last days, Brooks answered that, and other questions.
Twelve ran, Mike Andrews won. A saga of ambition, money, power, courage, and the nature of urban politics in Texas.
Every year communities scattered across Texas hold wet-dry elections. Each one pits the forces of fundamentalism against the forces of realism. This is the story of one such election.
Houston’s black elite have come a very long way to live in MacGregor Way, the swankiest black neighborhood in Texas, but they still don’t feel safe.
His first spacecraft blew up on the pad and his primary investor died, but the first free enterprise rocket finally flew from Matagorda.
Textbook watchdogs Mel and Norma Gabler are good, sincere, dedicated people, who just may be destroying your child’s education.
Jim Collins is running for the Senate on the claim that it’s better to be right (wing) than to pass bills. If he wins, it will change Texas politics.
What you won’t see from Dallas designers is lots of froufrou. What you will see is a look tailored for the working woman.
The end of the Chagra family’s drug empire, a few words on murderer-for-hire Charles Harrelson, and the most incriminating tapes since Watergate.
The university at one hundred; how good is it, really?
Between watching girls and getting a great tan, lifeguards occasionally have to save lives.
God created Texas, and then He created people who would love it.
A Dallas engineer you’ve probably never heard of has done more to change our daily lives than almost anyone else alive. How? He invented the silicon chip.
George Jones really lives the way he says he lives in the songs he sings.
He was wildly eccentric, he lived in a shanty on the Gulf, he subsisted as a bait fisherman, he had bizarre notions of eternal life. He may have been the best artist Texas has ever produced.
A photographic tour of the timeless Rio Grande, from its origins in the mountains of Colorado to the Padre Island dunes at the tip of Texas.
Multiple-choice question: UT’s Tom Philpott is (a) the best professor on campus, a selfless reformer, and the victim of an assassination attempt; (b) the worst professor on campus, a publicity hound, and a nut who staged his own shooting.
Anybody can get a job as a security guard. Anybody.
Used correctly, the polygraph can tell whether or not an accused criminal’s claim that he didn’t do it is true. Too bad the police can’t take that to court.
Welcome to Houston, the cutting edge of architecture. The local boys are turning a gentlemen’s profession into a business, the stylish out-of-towners are creating a new aesthetic, and neither group is filled with admiration for the other.
The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals confirms your worst fears about lawyers and judges and the impotence of the criminal justice system.
On the surface, Mexico’s presidential election looks a lot like ours—rallies, placards, speeches—but the outcome there is never in doubt.
Saint Paul said that a little wine is a fine thing. He must have known something.
Hugh Roy Cullen found the oil and made one of Houston’s great fortunes; now his grandson is spending his inheritance like there is no tomorrow, and suing for more.
If you leave your child at a day care center, you are hardly unique. If you know what your child does there all day, you are indeed unique.
For years no one would drink Lone Star beer because rednecks did; then one enterprising man figured out that if it was marketed right, everyone would want to drink Lone Star precisely because rednecks did.
People still think of cotton as a Dixieland crop, but the heart of the nation’s production is on the dry, flat, and windswept High Plains of Texas.
Whenever you buy or sell a house, hundreds of dollars of your money goes for something called title insurance. Title insurance is a great deal—for the title company.
Rusty Hardin is a prosecutor. Most of the time, his job is to put people in jail. This time, he wants a man dead.
They used to be virtuous and wooden and they were good. Now they’re commercial and plastic and they’re great.
The life—promising beginning, overripe middle, bloody end—of Lee Chagra, the biggest drug lawyer in El Paso.
The city boy moved to the country and life was good. And then he bought four pigs.
Four performers in Dallas are making a new kind of music that combines precision, grace, and crazy humor.