Texas A to Z
An Opinionated Guide

by Sylvia Sikeston

Someone once remarked that Texas is to the United States as the United States is to the world. If that is so, then where does Houston, my hometown (to the extent that I have a hometown), fit?

One of the most curious qualities of Texas' largest, and only international, city is that it both fits the Lone Star State and it doesn't fit. On the one hand, we devote ten days every year to the world's biggest rodeo in the Astrodome. On the other hand, Houston has 54 consulates, the largest of which belongs to the People's Republic of China, which surely casts serious doubt on whether Houston should be part of Texas at all. The Houstonian who ventures beyond the city limits is invariably intrigued, fascinated by the cultural vagaries of outback life. What is always striking is that life "out there" is different somehow. That difference, I propose, arises from the very "Texanness" of the state, and the comparative "un-Texanness" of Houston.

Think of Dallas for a moment. When you drive out of Dallas, it's hard to tell where Dallas stops and Texas begins. This is because Dallas is Texas. Consider the suburbs of Dallas. Plano, for example, is just Dallas with small buildings. The reverse also holds. Dallas is merely Waxahachie with big buildings.

Now turn your thoughts back to Houston. Imagine driving beyond the city limits. Going west, we come to, well, Katy. Katy is pure-dee, hard-core small-town Texas, and there's no doubt that you have left Houston and all the non-Texan "weirdness" that is Houston far behind.

Yet when people all over the world communicate with us, they don't put just "Houston" on the envelop, they put "Houston, Texas."

What are we to conclude--that, in some metaphysical warp, Houston is in Texas, but not of Texas? Or maybe it's just that the same thing is happening to Houston that has happened to other similar cities the world over. Certain cities grow--commercially, culturally--to the point where they belong more to the world than to their particular political subdivision. Think, for example, of Chicago's relationship to downstate Illinois, or the relationship of Paris to the rest of France.

Whatever the reason, Houston both is and is not Texas--and vive la différance. To understand la différance, herewith a survival guide for Houstonians venturing out into the great and storied province that surrounds us. We have divided the Lone Star State into three areas:

1. East Texas.
2. West Texas.
3. Everything Else.

While our guide cannot pretend to be exhaustive, it is sufficiently wide-ranging that it will provide the wandering Houstonian with more than enough protective coloration and Texas-insider information to make even a brief vacation in any part of the state a rewarding and entertaining exploration of native mores.

People who write about Texas fall in two categories: those who have credentials, and those who don't. How do you tell the difference? Easy. Those who have credentials write the truth--or their version of it. Those who don't may write wittily and entertainingly but their words have little relationship to the complex reality of Texas.

What are the proper credentials? Being born in Texas helps, but is not necessary. Viewed as a whole, the body of native writing about the state is enough to give regionalism a bad name. On the other hand, non-native Edna Ferber managed a pretty good Texas book (Giant). The one credential that matters--in writing about Texas as in all other things--is the ability to get at the truth. Only the reader can judge the extent to which the three writers in question here--all by the way native Texans--have got at the truth about Texas.

Texas: A to Z

Alamo, the (see Icons).

Amarillo. Panhandle city 608 miles northwest of Houston, population 149,230, which gave the world takeover-king T. Boone Pickens, ranch-art king (Cadillac Ranch) G. Stanley Marsh III, the Pantex plant (where all American nuclear weapons are assembled), and the world's largest helium deposit.

Art. Texas paintings fall into three groups: those that depict bluebonnets, those that depict horses, and those that don't depict horses or bluebonnets. Any commentary beyond this is just asking for trouble.

Austin. Central Texas city 163 miles west of Houston, population 345,890, heavily infested by students, aging hippies, legislators, dellionaires, and a remarkable variety of camp-followers. Though it prides itself on being "cool," Austin is nothing if not the essence of "cute," from the moderately scaled variations in elevation ("hills") to the various quaint effusions of "culture" centered primarily around The University. Austin is where Texans--who, remember, are either baffled or threatened by Houston--go to get away from Texas. It is also where Houstonians go to get away from Houston.

Austin, Stephen F. Widely revered as "the Father of Texas," in spite of the fact that he was a "bachelor."

Balmorhea State Park. If you've always wondered what an oasis was, check out Balmorhea. You drive-drive-drive on I-10 through the West Texas desert and suddenly here's this natural swimming hole fed by chilled, crystal clear spring water.

Basin, Permian. Subterranean pool of oil beneath West Texas that gave the world the Bush Dynasty, the University of Texas (q.v.), and the beginnings of the greenhouse effect.

Baylor University (see Waco). Before there was Jerry Falwell, Oral Roberts, and Jimmy Swaggert, there was Baylor University. A visit to the Baylor campus will quickly show you how Baptists have changed. Before they got into politics, they used to sublimate a lot. The primary evidence of this now-vanished tendency is the Armstrong Library at Baylor, which contains the world's greatest collection of memorabilia relating to those sublimators par excellence, Robert and Elizabeth Barret Browning.

Big Bend National Park. If planets had edges, this would be one of the earth's great jumping-off places.

Bigness. It was bad enough when Alaska was admitted to the Union. What really did Texas pride in was when the Arabs took control of world oil. Faced with such brutal reality, Texans now brag mostly about football. As long as the players persist in wearing short pants, Texans will never brag about basketball.

Billionaires. Washington state may have Bill Gates, , but even in its declining years, Texas still has the best. Subscribe to either the Dallas Morning News or the Fort Worth Star-Telegram for details.

Blacks. Persons of African origin whose massive contributions to the building of the state were for the most part ignored during the just-passed Sesquicentennial.

Bluebonnets (see Art, also Icons).

Books. There are a lot of books about Texas you should avoid reading--far too many to list here. The short list of must-reads would include: early Larry McMurtry (The Last Picture Show), Edmund White (Splendora), anything by William Goyen, anything by Don Graham (Texas: A Literary Portrait; Cowboys to Cadillacs). The single most helpful book is the Texas Almanac. The second most helpful is Why Stop? This collection of the inscriptions on every historical marker in the state is not only useful as a reference work, its very concept gets right to the soul of Texan reality. The whole idea of Why Stop? is that if you have the book with you in your car, you never even have to slow down as you pass the sites of historical events.

Cliburn, Van. Can a young man from a small oil town in East Texas find happiness and fame in Moscow? Answer: yes. Can the same young man also build a lasting concert career? Answer: no. Can the same young man create an internationally known, quadrennial piano competition in the town "where the West begins"? Answer: yes.

Cowboys (1) (see Icons).

Cowboys (2). A North Texas football team whose retired quarterback first made millions in real estate, and then more millions pitching Rolaids on television.

Dallas (1). A Texas city 240 miles north of Houston, population 904,078, which gave the world Tom Landry, H.L. Hunt, H. Ross Perot, the transistor, November 22, and Mary Kay Cosmetics.

Dallas (2). A television series based on Dallas (1), notable for its verisimilitude. The only other American city ever reproduced so faithfully was Nashville, in Robert Altman's film of that name.

Dates, Important. There is only one important date in Texas history, 1836, and if you don't know why, you need a lot more help than you'll get from a magazine.

Davis, Gussie Nell (see Rangerettes, Kilgore College)

Dobie, J. Frank (see Icons).

El Paso. A border town 745 miles west of Houston, population 425,259. What San Antonio has a little of and brags incessantly about, El Paso has in abundance and mostly keeps to itself. Easily the most fascinating city in the state, and probably the state's best kept secret, mainly because it's so far from everywhere else (Example: El Paso is closer to Los Angeles than to Houston).

Fort Worth. "Where the West Begins." 263 miles northwest of Houston, population 385,164. The best thing in Dallas is in Fort Worth, namely, the Kimbell Museum--one of the world's outstanding small museums (designed by Louis Kahn), containing a choice, if very conservative, collection of painting and sculpture.

Galveston. An island and a city 47 miles south of Houston, population 61,902. Texas has two islands--Padre Island is where you go to sun. Galveston Island is where you go to sin. Which means most visitors don't realize Galveston has one of the great surviving collections of Victorian architecture in North America. Galveston is the only real "walker's" city in Texas.

Hill Country, the. Since you have to drive 12 hours to get to real Texas mountains, Texans make do with the "hills" west of Austin. Be careful though. It now seems like every turn in the road brings you to another "Jack Nicklaus-designed" golf course.

Hispanics. Persons of Spanish origin whose massive contributions to the building of the state were also mostly ignored during the just-passed Sesquicentennial.

Hollow, Hippie. Travis County park west of Austin where Texans go to skinny dip--legally.

Houston. Southeast Texas city, metro population 5,000,000, for whose inhabitants this list was compiled. One of only two large U.S. cities named for famous Americans, the other being of course Washington, D.C.

Houston, Sam. Namesake of said city.

Icons. Texas being a nation, a state, a state of mind, and a near-religion, it comes equipped with its own mythology and attendant icons. It's not really important that you understand the full meaning of the icons. All that's necessary is that, when you use these words, you do so in slightly hushed tones and with just a touch of awe in your voice: "the Alamo," "bluebonnets," "cowboys," "J. Frank Dobie," "Texas Rangers," "The Eyes of Texas," "The Republic of Texas."

Indians. Persons of native American origin of whom there used to be a whole lot in Texas and to whom the whole continent in fact belonged but of whom there are only 50,296 left in Texas and most of them are on a reservation near Livingston.

Joplin, Scott. Only Texas-born composer ever to have an opera (Treemonisha) on Broadway.

Killeen. Small central Texas town notable for nearby Fort Hood (largest army encampment in the world) and for its high school athletic team name (the Kangaroos).

Land. What no Texan ever has enough of.

Magazines. Only three magazines published in Texas have significant readership outside of the state: Texas Monthly (which, starting from zero in 1973, showed the world that high-level, mass-market literacy was not entirely out of reach here), The Texas Observer (the state's permanent left-wing gadfly), and Southwest Art (which covers, in a truly impressive manner, all the art you'll never see in Artforum). If you're looking for a gift for that friend in Swaziland, though, your best bet is a subscription to Texas Highways. Published by the state road department, this full-color monthly aimed at the tourist trade has only one simple, rarely understated pictorial message: Texas is paradise, and don't let anybody tell you different.

Metroplex, the, a.k.a. DFW, a.k.a. Dallas-Fort Worth. (This is not a joke either. Well, on second thought...)

Movies. If you were going to be stranded on a desert island with a VCR and one Texas movie, it should be Giant. For all the big-budget, big-screen Hollywood hoopla, George Stevens' four-hour adaptation of Edna Ferber's novel still contains much Texas, and American, truth.

Music. Buddy Holley, Janis Joplin, Van Cliburn, uh, Willie Nelson, uh...

Neiman-Marcus. The mother-store at the corner of Elm and Ackard in downtown Dallas is still a shrine, still worth a visit. The now-numerous branches have tried to capture the original aura of understated exclusivity, but none has succeeded.

Observer, The Texas (see Magazines).

Oil. If the 20th century was the Oil Century, then 3/4 of it (until roughly 1975) belonged to Texas. And don't you forget it.

Politics. Proving that they are only human, Texans, like people everywhere, think their politics and their weather are worse than anybody's.

Pronunciation. There are only three words you have to worry about: Refugio ("ruh-fyur--ee-oh"), Mexia ("Muh-hair"), and Texas ("Teks-iz"). Concerning the last, nothing will blow your cover as quickly as a hissed "s" at the end of the name of the state. Remember: buzz that "s."

Rangerettes, Kilgore College. Founded in the 1930s by a person with one of the all-time great names, Gussie Nell Davis, the Rangerettes--having since inspired uncounted thousands of high school, junior high, and elementary school copies--must be given credit for single-handedly keeping the American pom-pom industry alive. Not only that, they now have their own museum in Kilgore. We don't know if the rumor is true that at least one southeast Asian nation owes its current prosperity to the manufacture of pom-poms.

Rangers, Texas (1) (see Icons). An elite state police force, much loved by Hollywood.

Rangers, Texas (2). A baseball team that George W. Bush co-owned so successfully that he 1) traded away Nolan Ryan, and 2) made $6 million out of.

Religion. Half of Texas is Baptist. The other half isn't. Any comment beyond this is just asking for trouble (see Art).

Rice University. A small, rich school in Houston. It should probably be listed as an icon. From Mule Shoe to High Island, everybody knows that's where the smart Texas kids go to college.

Rivers. Like Texas artists, Texas Rivers tend to be tentative, mostly unobtrusive sloughs in a difficult landscape.

San Antonio. A Texas city 197 miles west of Houston, population 786,023. Take one dusty town, add a major shrine of American liberty, spend some money damming up and landscaping a normally dry stream in the middle of town, throw in a few 300-year-old missions and some museums, and what do you get? One of the handful of great American cities, that's all.

SMU (see TCU).

Space (1). Texas has many glories. Perhaps its greatest is room, sheer space. Texas children, even city children, grow up uncrowded, a fact which must imprint the message deeply on us all: with this much room, anything is possible. Perhaps the greatest pleasure of life in Texas is the countless hours, days, weeks that can be spent exploring the vastness of the state. If you want crowds in Texas, that's easy: Juarez on Saturday night, Sixth Street in Austin, San Antonio's Paseo del Rio, Deep Ellum in Dallas, Lower Westheimer in Houston. If you want to be really alone, that's also easy: Santa Elena Canyon in Big Bend, Medicine Mound west of Quanah, the heart of the Angelina National Forest near Lufkin, the Big Thicket near Kountze, Padre Island a hundred miles south of Corpus Christi.

Space (2). Many factors have set Houston apart from Texas--humid climate, a huge seaport (what do cowboys care about the ocean?), and too much non-bluebonnet art, a large and politically active gay community, the state's only "smart kids" school (Rice U.). The clincher of course is the Johnson Space Center. From the Alamo to astronauts is one big leap, and it's one that the rest of Texas still hasn't really made.

State Song (see Icons).

Texas A & M. America's only Polish university.

TCU (see SMU).

Texas. Second largest political subdivision in the United States of America. Population: 20,000,000. Area: 266,807 square miles.

Texas Highways (see Magazines).

Texas Monthly (see Magazines).

Texas, Republic of (see Icons).

Texas, State Fair of. This annual fall blowout was originally supposed to be in Houston but wound up in Dallas because of a certain problem some hundred years ago with yellow fever along the coast. This is only one of several problems Texas has had with Houston (see Space [2]).

Texas, University of, a.k.a., The University. The richest university in the world (oil holdings in West Texas, don't you know; see Basin, Permian), home of Bevo (the longhorn mascot of the athletic department), and employer of uncounted thousands of intellectuals who would really rather be at Berkeley.

Uvalde. Small South Texas town, population 14,178, which once enjoyed minor fame as the home of FDR's first vice-president (John Nance Garner), included here in order to have an entry for the letter u.

Vaca, Cabeza de. Spanish explorer and first European to set foot on this part of North America. Shipwrecked in 1528 near what we know as Galveston Island, he was captured by Indians and spend seven years walking back to Mexico. Included here to give this list at least a smidgen of historical credibility.

Valley, The. A term contrived for the slight declivity along the Rio Grande from Brownsville to Del Rio, notable for its near-tropical climate, its orchards, and its intense biculturality. While Texas is proud of the Valley's climate and orchards, the state is either nervous about or unmindful of the biculturality, which is why it is one of the most severely depressed economic part of the United States. For a few months every four years, gubernatorial candidates pay a lot of attention to the Valley. The rest of the time Texas pretends it's not there.

Waco (see Baylor)

Xenophobia. What Texans suffer from--though they don't know what to call it--when they visit Houston.

Ysleta. The oldest town in Texas (founded in 1682), 745 miles west of Houston.

Zavala, de Lorenzo (1789-1836). First vice-president of the Republic of Texas. Texas has two shrines, the Alamo and the San Jacinto battleground. The burial plot at San Jacinto is the de Zavala family cemetery.

END

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