There Will Be Boone
Our most iconic oil and gas man, lately a water marauder and now a celebrated windcatter, has saved himself a couple of times in his eighty glorious years. Who’s to say he can’t save America?
Our most iconic oil and gas man, lately a water marauder and now a celebrated windcatter, has saved himself a couple of times in his eighty glorious years. Who’s to say he can’t save America?
Twenty-five years after his death, Sam Hopkins is still one of the most influential bluesmen in history—that much we know. But we don’t know nearly enough about who he was.
José Cisneros, the legendary illustrator of the Spanish Southwest, is 96, almost blind, and nearly deaf. And, of course, he has no plans to put down his pen.
The fastest-growing church in the world. The biggest congregation this side of the Vatican. The highest ratings of any religious broadcaster. One of the best-selling religious books in years. Can Joel Osteen get an “Amen”?
You may never have heard of Ramón Ayala, but to his four generations of fans in South Texas and Mexico, he’s music royalty. He revolutionized norteño, a genre that reigns along the border, and—after more than one hundred albums—is still going strong.
For forty years Nellie Connally has been talking about that day, when she was in that car and saw that tragedy unfold. She’s still talking—and now she’s writing too.
America's notoriously needy readers certainly doand for the robust health of this publishing genre, they have Dallas in general and Phil McGraw's agent in particular to thank.
Audra Thomas can't read these words and, in a few months, wouldn't remember them anyway. Nevertheless, she has an extraordinary sense of the world around her—and of herself.
Never mind that he got kicked out of St. Mark’s and dropped out of UT, or that his line readings seem a little . . . off. Somehow, Owen Wilson is the kind of guy who gets movies made. And he gets $10 million a pop, dude.
Thomas Austin Preston, Jr.—a.k.a. Amarillo Slim—has cut cards with LBJ and hustled all manner of sharpies at pool and Ping-Pong. But at 74, his greatest success continues to be at the poker table, as my $100 and I found out.
Pat Green’s fans—and they are legion—love his songs about the joys of Luckenbach and Lone Star beer. His critics—also legion—think his lyrics are trite. But no matter how you feel about him, there’s no denying that he’s the hottest country music act in Texas. And that he has made the
His cache of unpublished interviews and unreleased recordings is unrivaled—but both collector and collection are showing signs of age. Who will save the legacy of the man who saved Texas music?
Bob Phillips' passion for small-town oddities makes Texas Country Reporter as irresistible as a bookshop that doubles as a beauty parlor.
When Fast Eddie Garcia was shot to death, San Antonio mourned the loss of not only a man but also a behind-the-scenes power broker at the center of the city’s good ol’ amigo network.
The East Texas native was the most prolific drug dealer of his generation. Now he’s in jail for life, but he says he’s freer than ever.
Speeding toward her new life in Austin.
He may soon compete for the super featherweight championship of the world, but for now Austin boxer Jesus Chavez is in the fight of his life—with federal immigration officials.
She subdues bail jumpers with a modem and her strong right arm: Meet Janis McCollom, one of Houston’s best bounty hunters.
Like it says on her newly acquired bumper sticker, movie mogul Lynda Obst is “Texan By Choice.” But while you can take the girl out of Hollywood …
Dallas’ Sloane Simpson was a society queen who enchanted New York, seduced Mexico City, and turned Acapulco into a jet-set getaway. But when she died last year at age eighty, she was almost completely forgotten.
A year after Kris Kristofferson’s standout role in Lone Star, Hollywood is still marveling over his comeback. He is too. by Gary Cartwright
All she did was walk into the bar, sit down, and smile. But I knew right away why, even at age fifty, Farrah Fawcett is still an angel.
After playing for years in relative obscurity, 57-year-old Ronnie Dawson is the latest cult hero in the cultish world of rockabilly.
Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Jerry Jeff Walker—and now Junior Brown? The former community college teacher is the latest outlaw to hijack Texas country music, and he may be the greatest.
Freddy Fender has one of the most affecting voices in the music business. So why isn’t he a star?
Crooning for Caddo Lake.
Texan Jerry Hall is a successful model, the mother of three healthy kids, the wife of a rich, sexy, world-famous rock star. She’s also quite refined. Or is she? Eliza Doolittle, meet your match.
Once he raced cars; now he builds them. Even at 72, it seems, Carroll Shelby can’t slow down.
A year after Robert James Waller left Iowa for the quieter climes of Big Bend, the best-selling author is discovering that it’s one thing to live like a Texan and quite another to be one.
Rachel Oswald did not kill John F. Kennedy, but for more than three decades she has struggled to make peace with the darkest day in Texas history.
Is Charles Voyd Harrelson a natural-born killer? His movie star son, Woody, isn’t sure—but I am.
He invented the boneless breast and made his chicken a household name. But now his critics are out to roast him.
With his starring role on The Larry Sanders Show, Rip Torn is no longer Rip scorned.
The survivor of a long and torturous journey, George Jones stands alone as the greatest country singer alive.
What’s eating Ann Richards? As her reelection campaign finally gets in high gear, the governor seems to be fighting a case of the mopes.
He’s a budget cutter in an era of consumption, a conservative Democrat in a party gone soft, a good ol’ boy with no polish or flash. So why is everyone buzzing about Texas comptroller John Sharp?
Who cares if they dress differently, act differently, and spell their names differently? Brother Dick DeGuerin and Mike DeGeurin are two of the best attorneys in Texas, and for that they can thank their mentor, legal legend Percy Foreman.
Tuff Hedeman was born in El Paso and raised on rodeo. Today he’s one the best bull riders in the world.
Stardom has caught up with Tommy Lee Jones—finally. But don’t expect him to act like he’s enjoying it.
After ten low-key years, country singer turned mystery novelist Kinky Friedman is once again poised to hit the big time.
After years of being alternately judged a great playwright and a great disappointment, Edward Albee has found his footing in Houston, where he teaches, socializes, and gets star treatment.
For years he renounced his Texas ties. Now Larry McMurty is once again calling Archer City home.
With wit and grit, Amarillo-born photographer Mark Seliger persuades reluctant celebrities to show their true selves.
He’s no longer at the helm of Neiman’s, but 87-year-old Stanley Marcus still knows how to run a successful business. Just ask him.
Janis Joplin’s life was about music, rebellion, and excess—but she was influenced most by her tormented relationship with the people and spirit of Port Arthur.
Who came first—Indiana Jones of Hollywood or Vendyl Jones of Arlington, the archaeologist who has spent years trying to dig up the fabled Ark of the Covenant?
Houston’s favorite bouncer keeps the peace with style and a smile.
Haven’t heard of Geof Kern, Texas’ most famous photographer? You must live here.
Maybe not. But then again, the veteran Texas pol has never taken no for an answer.
When her charitable foundation collapsed amid allegations of mismanagement, the Dallas socialite did the unthinkable: She started a new one.