Austin360 blogs > Out & About > Archives > 2006 > July > 04 > Entry
East Texas trap
Travel: I feel like a traitor to my birthplace complaining that Kilgore might not be the best home for the Texas Shakespeare Festival. Let’s calmly examine its viability as a cultural mecca.
Kilgore Rangerettes at the Cotton Bowl
Many North American summer arts festivals were planted in refreshing, attractive locations, such as Santa Fe, Aspen, Ashland, Sundance. Others are located near big markets — Ravinia, Wolf Trap, Stratford, the Berkshires, etc. Kilgore is surrounded by relatively picturesque pine forests, but, since the 1930s, it’s been an oil patch, with attendant industrial waste, and few nearby parks or lakes offer outdoor breaks from the festival, even if one were to brave the palpable humidity.
Another way to draw tourists to a cultural magnet is through the stomach. Niagara-on-the-Lake, Santa Fe and festivals in Northern California benefit from superb restaurants and local wines. Shopping also occupies the off-hours of arts pilgrims. Kilgore has not a single fine-dining establishment — the Olive Garden in nearby Longview pretty much tops out the high-end dining, while that city’s tame mall begins and ends the shopping options.
Kilgore is home to just 13,000 people. It was — and is again — an oil town. Which means some residual multigenerational wealth could support the festival, and it does, but not enough. Some 200,000 people live within easy driving distance, but this is East Texas and, with all due respect, there’s not much education about — or reinforcement for — even something as culturally conservative as a Shakespeare festival.
So what else can one do in Kilgore and environs?
One can sample excellent casual dining spots, such as Bodacious Barbecue at Texas 42 and Interstate 20, as authentic as one could wish for seeking hot links, chopped beef, ribs, sausages, etc., with generous sides and traditional drinks.
The Back Porch crouches near the Kilgore College campus, serving juicy hamburgers and tasty sides (nothing here is very spicy). It’s like Dirty’s, East Texas-style.
Also near the campus, distinguishing itself from the clutter of chain eateries on U.S. 259, is El Sombrero. We dropped in because of its kitschy motto: “Home of the white cheese” (that’s really an attraction?). Turns out it serves creative Mexican food, including various iterations of grilled shrimp in (again) not-too-spicy dishes.
The big disappointment was the Kilgore Cafe, a diner formerly known as the Hot Bisquit, whose buffet was about as lame and soggy as any I’ve suffered through on any American freeway. Still, the after-church crowd could be overheard chewing over the nasty small-town gossip (“She still a pretty girl, but she’s put on some weight,” an observation that could be applied to any Kilgore resident over the age of 21).
The Rangerette Museum, which, if in Kilgore, is a must-attend, was closed during this visit, as was the East Texas Oil Museum, at least both times we dropped by. The first is over-serious and therefore funny, the second historically respectable and worth a half hour of distraction.
The real draw is the New London Museum, south of Kilgore in the town where, in 1937, the junior/senior high school exploded in a natural gas accident that killed hundreds of students and teachers. The disaster deeply impressed my parents’ generation, and led to the addition of the now-familiar odor to natural gas. The museum is thorough, heartfelt and clearly explained. It’s among the finest small-town historical museums in the state.
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