Michael Barnes is the Austin American-Statesman's social columnist. He lives in South Austin with his partner, Kip, two dogs
and two cats. More on Out & About.
Presidential press conferences don’t usually generate parties.
Rebecca Bernhardt, Julia Bernhardt
On the other hand, Texas Democrats haven’t enjoyed that many excuses to revel in the past few years, aside from Pres. Barack Obama’s election and inauguration. Oh, and increases in their statewide and nationwide legislative delegation.
Cher Fugate, Kim Berry
So political leaders and backers met at the renovated Speakeasy to watch Obama’s televised press conference and toast “100 Days of Change.” I ran into my former student, Adam Longley, who is now working for the Tom Shieffer campaign.
Adam Longley, Susanne Schieffer, Tom Schieffer
A horn-tastic dance musical act agitated Andy Brown and the Travis County Democratic Party’s guests onto the dance floor for to “shake, shake, shake — shake their booties.” (I quizzed organizers about the band’s name, but their answers didn’t match online records.)
Courtney Watson, Ken Flippin
A few words about Michael Girard’s trifurcated club. The alley-side bar and its balcony look pretty much the same. The rooftop lounge is still there. What’s changed is the new Congress Avenue-side space with much, much improved performance arrangements — no more plastering the band up against a side wall — and its own matching balcony.
Vanessa Vargas, Jackie Rogers, Donovan Nwokeji
It may take Speakeasy regulars a while to negotiate the connections among the three zones, but the expansion vastly improves the club’s capacity to produce entertainment and parties.
The movie-makers had triumphed. And not just on screen.
Anne Wolfe-Andersen, Richard Dillard, Elena Weinberg
Supporters of Texas’ film industry scored recently with a bill that allows the governor’s office to tailor incentives to the project, rather than stick with strict, low percentages of the local budgets.
Chrystal Roberson, Cody Kirk, Lill Gentry
To celebrate, actors Marco Perella and CK McFarland gathered some players at Mother Egan’s to reenact the spoofs they had performed on lobbying days at the Capitol.
Felix Rivas, Leron Minor
You’d recognize either actor from their many stage and screen incarnations. Along with colleagues, they staged burlesques of “Miss Congeniality” and other Texas-made movies. Gentle ribbing was aimed at figures such as Sandra Bullock, for her rockers, bikers and houses.
Anne Schultz, Michelle Atkins
Another sketch, “The Last Picture Show,” threatened Texans with bad street theater if films moved elsewhere. (Actors and crews would be left with nothing else to do.) Many see-it-from-a-mile away cracks were made on the Larry McMurtry title.
John Hafner, Chris Sturgeon
The industry-thick audience, relaxing over beers and ales, got the inside jokes. Time to retire the Comedy at the Capitol players. Victory is here. I hear the mighty cheer. On the side of …
I did not intend that statement as a pun. I swear.
Jason Allgood, Vanessa Johnson, Dennis Sims
Yet Candlelight Ranch, which provides Hill Country recreation for youngsters with disabilities, emanates uncomplicated good will from its staff, board and backers.
Laura Von Der Ahe, Leann Beadle, Ann Berry
Enfolded by a soft, forgiving dusk, Candlelight supporters gathered on the mod patio of The Belmont for a fundraising concert Wednesday.
Jenn Grogono, Martin Grogono, Wendy Wells
I stayed long enough to hear Phoenix Down, a stripped-down ambient indie act. The soft chords and suggestions of epic guitar eruptions complemented the occasion.
David Breed, Tara Gray
I met many Candlelighters, including past and present presidents David Breed and Tara Gray. Everyone, including board members, sensed that I didn’t need to be sold hard on the charity. Its growing reputation speaks for itself.
I wasn’t there. But — big surprise — Eugene Sepulveda was. Luckily, he writes a blog.
Not just any blog, but one that rivals Out & About for social saturation. Actually, it beats Out & About certain days. Like Tuesday.
Anyway, check Community Matters for a report on the visit of Vice-President Joe Biden to the Lake Austin house of Jeanne and Mickey Klein on Tuesday.
Many Out & About hardcore regulars are featured. Bernard and Audre Rapaport, Kirk and Amy Rudy, Andy Brown, John Sharp, Mayor Will Wynn, Rep. Mark Strama, Marc and Suzanne Winkelman, Nav Sooch, Anne Elizabeth Wynn, plus many more.
I guess the VP’s staff carries around that little podium everywhere he goes.
People — especially sports fans — go batty for wings. You know, those delightfully messy, often fried appendages, best slathered in tangy sauce. They’ve replaced the larger, more cumbersome legs of my youth as the preferred finger food derived from poultry.
Well, the showdown this week was between Third Base, the phenomenally successful sports bar with two Austin locations, and Pluckers, its laid-back rival that, in fact, is called, tellingly, “Pluckers Wing Bar.”
Between the two, Third Base and Pluckers shared more than 91 percent of the high-volume vote. Third Base won out with 48 percent. Pluckers kept it close with 43 percent. Congrats to both teams for activating their fan bases.
The only other outlet with a significant chunk of votes was Wing Stop with 4 percent. All the others — Wings ‘N More, The Tavern, Casino El Camino, Hoover’s, Alamo Drafthouse, Uncle Billy’s, Buffalo Wings & Rings, Waterloo Icehouse, Wings-n-Things, Gene’s New Orleans Style, Bone Daddy’s, Billy’s on Burnet, Mangia, Player’s, Wing Zone and Woody’s Pizaa and Wings — earned less than 1 percent of the tally.
Even in the days before laptops, it was easy to write almost anywhere. As long as it was reasonably quiet and comfortable. Pencil and pad sufficed in parks, cafes, library and coffee shops.
The tradition continues, with a local twist. Austinites adore the out of doors, so they choose Zilker Park as the No. 1 place to write. The city’s key urban park offers acres of shade, relative isolation and picnic tables for the seating-inclined. Zilker attracted 23 percent of the vote.
Mozart’s, the fragrant coffee roaster on Lake Austin, came in second with 19 percent. Barton Springs, the city’s iconic swimming hole, took third with 14 percent. (Really? Your writing implements don’t get wet?)
High up on Mount Bonnell, 10 percent of our voters like to write. (Would have never guessed it.)
The LBJ Library pulled in 5 percent, but all the rest were coffee shops — Spider House (10 percent); Ruta Maya (3 percent), Dominican Joe (3 percent); Flipnotics ( 3 percent), Genuine Joe’s (3 percent). Taking 2 percent or less were more coffee shops: Cafe Mundi, Rito Rita, Quacks, JP’s Java and Green Muse.
The early state meets in the sprawling one-act play contest and other arts and humanities events have been postponed because of swine flu fears.
The official statement on the UIL Web site: “On the recommendation of Dr. David Lakey, Commissioner of the Texas Department of State Health Services, and in consultation with Texas Education Agency Commissioner Robert Scott, the University Interscholastic League is altering its schedule of events due to the outbreak of the swine flu in Texas. Effective immediately, all UIL interscholastic competition is suspended until May 11.”
More details from the staff:
“The complications of postponing our first three one-act play contests for Conferences 3A, 2A, 1A, originally scheduled for May 7-9, are huge,” said event spokeswoman Connie McMillan. “It will take several days to sort all of the details out. For the time-being, the 4A and 5A contests are still scheduled on May 15 and May 16. Hopefully we will be able to re-schedule during the last full week of May.”
Do you know of any social events affected by the swine flu? Any cancellations or postponements? Any special preparations or expectations of lower attendance? E-mail me at mbarnes@statesman.com or contact me through Facebook (Michael Barnes, Austin American-Statesman) or Twitter (outandabout). Comments also welcome.
Do teens and twentysomethings respond to hippie marketing?
During a long, pleasant walk home from TestSite on 33rd Street, I passed along the Upper Drag and Lower Drag by following sidewalks on the east side of Guadalupe Street. This gave me a clear, connected view of the ever-evolving, campus-connected business strip.
At some point, it struck me: These business names, signs and decorations, such as murals and typography, seemed aimed at hippies. The street becomes one long series of psychedelic colors and shapes, drug-related wording and liberation symbols.
Nothing wrong with that. But why? After all, current UT students are separated by almost two generations from the 1960s. (Yes, dears, the flower-power decade will turn 50 next year.)
Well, some of the businesses actually survived those decades and are owned by folks who lived through that era. That’s one explanation.
Others have been imported from ongoing pockets of hippiedom — Berkeley, Eugene, Ore., etc. — around the country.
Also, it must be admitted that university students still experiment with sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll, so the visual references might establish a more immediate connection. (I provide zero evidence of this. Just conjecture.)
Two striking exceptions to the Aquarian rule: American Apparel and Urban Outfitters. Both are big national chains. Both appeal to hip-hop youth culture more to than an imagined hippie Golden Age.
I’m not going anywhere with these musings. Just wondered.
Now who would believe that a pair of 20th-century operas would compete over the same Austin weekends — and sell out? While creating a whirlwind of social engagement?
Few seats sat empty for the Sunday matinee of Austin Lyric Opera’s “Dialogues of the Carmelites.” And for good reason. The voices and instruments spun ethereal gold from Francis Poulenc’s contemplative first act, while the second quickened the circulation with its electrifying staging.
Man I love it when the chorus is treated like a sculptural element rather than that fake opera/musical technique of pretending to interact naturalistically. Five singer/actors — Emily Pulley, Sheila Nadler, Suzanne Ramo, Dana Beth Miller and Jennifer Check — blew me away.
It’s especially gratifying that ALO is moving firmly from the two warhorse/one newbie formula to one warhorse/two newbies per season. Its “Cinderella” and “Dialgoues” were new to the company’s repertoire; next season, “The Star” and “Hansel and Gretel” serve as the newcomers. A salute to general director Kevin Patterson and his increasing young, cool audiences.
Over at the University of Texas, I’d never seen the McCullough Theatre so full. And filled with such a multivarious crowd. The premiere of Duke Ellington’s “Queenie Pie” marked its last, ecstatic performance Sunday night.
Now I must admit that the printed program and the opening scenes set my expectations up for standard narrative, which was stymied. And the show could have used some more dynamic dancers.
But by the second half, the dreamy production style matched the fable-friendly material precisely. Michaele Hite’s Harlem-inspired costumes dazzled for the entire show, as did the ensemble’s verve and the UT Jazz Band’s brilliance.
Veteran jazz singer Carmen Bradford blossomed in the second act, as did former UT student and musical theater rising star Keithon Gipson. Also stunning was current student Morgan Gale Beckford singing some of Ellington’s most ambitious tunes. Good on UT and the Huston-Tillotson University Concert Choir for this season’s most talked-about debut.
And to think it started in a shed. Strictly speaking, just part of a shed. Or could we dignify the original artistic crib with term warehouse?
Dr. Mark McLelland, Leisa McLelland, Bo Garner
Mexic-Arte Museum, which held its 25th anniversary celebration on Saturday, showed no signs of longevity in the mid-1980s.
John Bustamante, Sarah Strother, Andy Brown
Yet director Sylvia Orozco is tenacious. And smart.
Mary Pat Mueller, Rachel Saldaña, Stacy Tucker
She and her then-artistic partner moved operations to a semi-disused building on Congress Avenue before Congress Avenue was cool.
Divya Sachdev Tuteja, Guarav Tuteja
Then she convinced the City of Austin to save the building when the Frost Bank Tower rose next door.
Carlos Martinez, Esta Herald
Later, she convinced voters to approved $5 million in bonds to move the museum to the Mexican American Cultural Center site.
Tad Davis, Maria Sifuentes
Now, as reported on Sunday, she’s asking the city to stay put, since Congress Avenue is now the place to be.
Mzyrla Shepherd, Rodolfo Briseno
Along the way, Orozco forged lasting relationships with artists and institutions in Mexico, where she once studied and worked.
Monica Santis, Daniel Rodriguez
The Gala de Plata on a windy Saturday night certainly matched her group’s attainments and ambitions.
Rick Ary, Chad Proctor
The gala landed at the multi-level West Lake home of Dr. John Hogg and his partner, David Garza, which orders dozens of priceless views of Lake Austin and downtown.
Jon Dardee, Polly Price
Designed by award-magnet Kevin Alter, the house is a modernist puzzle box decorated with monumental art from several ages by Garza and Hogg.
Pike Powers, Jr. Kevin Flahive, Any Mooney, Mart Lutz
Many of the distinguished guests certainly dressed up. (I didn’t, having other events to attend that evening which would have been skunked in a tux.)
Elena Cuadros, Carlos Cuadros
Politicians, business leaders and arts backers drifted up and down the disorienting series of stairs, out onto the enticing, tree-brushed terraces.
Sylvia Orozco and Sylvia Swearingen
Kip spent the most time with Carla McDonald (they talked books, as they usually do), while my interactions were more promiscuous.
Anthony Romero, Leslie Moody Castro
Evidently, Mexic-Arte Museum has climbed to the gold tier on the gala circuit.
Denise Robledo, Maribel Medusa
Although valet parking was daunting — through no fault of the valiant parkers, sweating their way up and down that mountain — the evening felt infused with occasion and dignity.
The cloud cover may have dampened attendance. The sparseness on two visits — once Saturday, once Sunday — to the Art City Austin may have been misleading. We await the final numbers.
Alyssa Flores, Chris Edwards
Yet the two-day fandango still drew stimulating art-and-people lovers for our town’s best street arts-and-crafts fair.
Susan Smalling, Pat Chapman
The event, formerly called Fiesta, benefits both Austin Museum of Art and Blanton Museum of Art. Nice.
Eric Martin, Shanda Martin
The wind, at least, was a blessing. The humidity was not.
Chris Swanson, Laramie Gorbett
The First Street Bridge was blocked off for Art After Dark, the complementary food-and-drink affair. Also for the required live-music stage and the enormous metal alligator-gar-like fish sculpture.
Jin, Suh
We lingered at “Pink,” the clever installation that encouraged fest-goers to type out love letters that were manufactured on a factory line then distributed by bicycle anywhere in the city at the writers’ requests.
Casey Flinn, Tammy Steele, Scotty Stevenson
Ran into art ace Rachel Koper, who recommended the last tent to the east. That shady spot was occupied by Montana artist Jarrod Eastman, whose surreal paintings supported micro-narratives. I liked.
Tina Gramann, Taylor Flanagan, Calen Robertson
A Santa Fe sculptor with an engineer’s eye named Box produced elegant works that looked like crumpled paper or plans for devices. Also liked.
John Pratt, Megan Meehan
Edible Austin’s Marla Camp had helped lasso local producers of food and drink for a non-turkey-leg feasting area.
Shikha Gupta, Anand Joshi
Back to the weather and the crowd. It threatened rain all Saturday and Sunday, which may have discouraged casual arrivals. Luckily, it did not really pour until Monday. And when it did …
Are you ready for Lemonade Day? That’s the May 3 Austin launch of the nationwide project to turn children into entrepreneurs and philanthropists. The second annual installment of Lemonade Day in Houston attracted 11,600 stands which grossed $1.3 million. Of that, $220,000 went to charities.
In preparation for a Austin’s Lemonade Day, the Austin Children’s Museum, with help from the Acton Foundation for Entrepreneurial Excellence, the Entrepreneurs Foundation of Central Texas and other backers, staged a lemonade-tasting contest. The celebrity judges included Austin City Council Member Randi Shade, designer Kendra Scott, chef (not police chief) Art Acevedo, Acton’s Georgia Thompsen and Rachel Davison, Edible Austin’s Marla Camp and yours truly. KVUE sports guy Mike Barnes acted as emcee.
We tasted some incredibly varied lemonades. Receiving a special award for his sugar-free, apple-based drink with its carefully calculated nutritional content was Rohit Srinivasan, helped by his brother Sidharth. Top prize went Kaitlyn McWilliams for her Pink Twinkle-Ade (that’s her with judge Kendra Scott). Max Messina and Sarita Lozano-Sanchez sweetened places Nos. 3 and 2.
Watch out for the thirst quenchers and others on sale all over town next Sunday.
So who is this contempo crowd that clasps the FuseBox Festival to its collective bosom? We saw them at fest events and installations this weekend, including Pierre Rigal’s unforgettable “Érection,” Paul Villinski’s conceptual “Emergency Response Studio” and Jaclyn Pryor’s sweet “Pink.”
At the center of the mix, you’ll usually find the social connectors. Chief among these would be Ron Berry, the festival’s artistic director. His tastes are so broad and his hunger for conversation so palpable, Berry is able to talk just about anybody into anything.
All without ego. I can’t even imagine a Ron Berry diva fit. Although, Berry told me he was forced to evict someone from the U.S. Art Authority on Friday for bad behavior. Which brought up a lively discussion: What constitutes bad behavior at a contempo arts festival, where every kind of expression goes?
Also constantly connecting across genre boundaries are Austin Museum of Art director Dana Friis-Hansen and his partner, Rude Mechs board member Mark Holzbach. With a discerning eye, they support almost everything. They are often matched by Ballet Austin’s Stephen Mills and his partner, education expert Brent Hasty.
East Austin art pioneers Sean Gaulager and Arturo Palacios keep people connected, as do writer/curator Rachel Koper and, through a different subset, Arthouse director Sue Graze.
Coming from the dance community are illustrious Deborah Hay and her friend photographer Rino Pizzi. Also choreographers Ellen Bartel and Allison Orr.
One expect visitations from those entrenched in the contempo world, such as the Blanton Museum of Art’s Annette Carlozzi and her new husband, Dan Bullock. Also, sometimes, museum and education leaders Jessie Otto Hite, Judith Sims, Chris Cowden and Syliva Orozco.
Increasingly important are the mega-collectors, led by Houston transplants Jeanne and Mickey Klein. They’ve proved exemplary contempo models for Julie Thornton — whose newly minted testperformancetest imported some of the festival’s top acts — and her Austin Ventures husband John, plus, now, their entrepreneur/philanthropist friends Amy and Kirk Rudy, John and Carla McDonald, and Eugene Sepulveda and Steven Tomlinson.
Other collectors and propigators include Deborah Green and Chris Mattsson. Klein in-law Lora Reynolds of the Lora Reynolds Gallery is often out with the contempos, as is composer and renaissance man Graham Reynolds and his partner, Shawn Sides of the Rude Mechs, as well as his manager, John Riedie. Laurence Miller and his TestSite gang are often in attendance. Josh Meyer and Matt Hislope of Rubber Repertory are inveterate socializers (I also caught them in the factory line for “Pink.”)
This is by no means a complete list. But you get the contempo picture.
“Now that you’re here, we must have hit the big time.”
Eric Holle, Michelle Holle
So said Doug English, president of the Lone Star Paralysis Foundation. Wrong, Doug. You and your cause smacked the big time long before I crashed your gala at the Four Seasons Hotel.
Jeff Quade, Ali Cooper
After all, you were an All-Star defensive tackle for the Detroit Lions in the 1970s and ’80s after triumphing with the University of Texas Longhorns. And although you’re now 55, you’re still ruggedly handsome, with hands so big you could enfold both of mind in your fist. (Talk about a startling handshake.)
Gary Brightwell, Kristen Rini
And your foundation, which seeks a cure for spinal cord injury, has been raising hundreds of thousands of dollars on a regular basis. Your Four Seasons event drew 500 guests and netted between $200,000 and $300,000, despite lower admission prices this year.
Sadie Corrie, David Corrie
Sorry I couldn’t stay for comedian Bill Engvall’s set. He’s the classy component in the blue-collar comedy brigade. He even joked, in advance, that the American-Statesman was one of his favorite newspapers. (Good save, Bill.)
Doug English, Bill Engvall
One thing that distinguished this event was the swarm of security officials. Not as many as Tuesday, when Vice-President Joe Biden swooped into town, but numerous enough to arouse comment.
Curtis Meeting, Virginia Lee
Lone Star spokeswoman Emily Schmitz said extra force was necessary because of high-dollar auction items such as a signed Rolling Stones jacket. Plus Gov. Rick Perry showed up with his secret service.
When Austinites say, “this is our South by Southwest,” they know better.
Amy Rudy, Kirk Rudy
Whether it be the sprawling Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival for gourmands, magnified Texas Relays for African Americans, beefed-up Splash weekends for the gay community, or swollen game dates for Longhorn fans, nothing remotely matches the colossal social impact of SXSW’s 10 solid days and nights slamming together thousands of bands, hundreds of filmmakers and social media experts, as well as equal numbers of journalists and fans from all over the world.
Ron Berry, John Riedie
Yet the FuseBox Festival in April hints at SXSW’s full social immersion, at least for the contempo arts gang. It brings to town dozens of top-tier international acts, while activating conversations with writers, audiences, entrepreneurs and local artists all over town.
Noriko Ambe, Lauren Grant, Lora Reynolds
Now consider that it coincides with Art City Austin, the city’s finest arts and crafts street fair, as well as major parties for Mexic-Arte Museum, Umlauf Sculpture Garden, Austin Shakespeare Festival and other arts groups.
Nick Lopez, Ivan Figueroa
Also this week, two major operas conclude: “Dialogues of the Carmelites” and “Queenie Pie,” plus blow-out season closers like “Let Me Down Easy,” “The Pajama Game” and “The Grapes of Wrath” continue, along with the last days of “The Birth of Cool” and other signal exhibits.
Clare Croft, unknown, Darla Johnson
So that’s what arts lovers mean by “our South by Southwest.” It’s a time when you can’t possibly do it all. But one thing you can do: Wrap up each FuseBox evening with a confab at the U.S. Art Authority just north of campus. It a loose party, the first night featuring Los Angeles DJ Eddie Ruscha, son of crucial American artist Ed Ruscha.
Pierre Rigal, French Cultural Attaché Dominique Philippe Chastres
What a night! Note: For those wondering, yes, I’m two days behind on my blog posts. Blame the week.
The Austin Shakespeare Festival has improved almost every year that I’ve witnessed its evolution. It’s still a mid-size arts group looking for a secure identity, but with veteran Ann Ciccolella at the helm, one assumes the classical company is headed down the right road.
Earlier this week, I attempted to attend ASF’s gala at the Curtain Theatre. That’s gamer/cosmonaut Richard Garriott’s Elizabethan theater out on Lake Austin. (Oh, how I wish they’d build one in Zilker Park. It’s sweet, if rough.)
So, following multiple events, I arrived after the core social part of the evening. Almost everyone was assembled in the theater for performance. OK. I figured I’ll wait out a couple of key scenes from “Romeo and Juliet,” catching the cool breeze and visiting with some folks outside the “Wooden O.”
Well, ASF was smack in the middle of performing an entire act of the tragedy. Come again? At a gala? That’s supposed to be social time. Entertainment heightens the occasion, but it should not overwhelm it.
I’m a Bard buff as much as anyone else, but, after offering my respects, I departed for my next social event. Hope to catch up with “R&J” when it opens in May.
The event raises money for the Austin State Hospital, a taxpayer-supported institution that nevertheless is always short of resources.
Dianna Pickens, Richard Smith
Backers sell patient and professional art at ASH BASH. That’s made it a rare blend of community and charity, staff and volunteer collaboration.
Alexis Ledesma, Joshua Sampson
Different this year was the push from a group of social connectors to make it a headliner event. Among the many supporters was Marcy Hoen, particularly adept at networking business, social and artistic assets.
Roi James, Dr. Amy Myers
Among the familiar faces I encountered on the 18th floor of 816 Congress was Richard Smith, former columnist for the American-Statesman and longtime cable news commentator. Among my new acquaintances was a social sparkler, Donna Pickens, wife of former state Rep. Ace Pickens. This West Texas bundle of kinetic energy told me more fascinating stories in five minutes than most people can muster in five hours.
Richard Gonzalez, Megan Jaster
With several hundred guests present in the raw office space, BASHers estimate that attendance at this year’s event perhaps doubled previous outings. We wait to hear the net take.
All other theatrical tenors beware: Your roles are not safe. Andrew Cannata could claim them at any moment. The St. Edward’s University student so artfully sings the part of supervisor Sid Sorokin in Mary Moody Northen Theatre’s production of “The Pajama Game,” you’d think the musical clock was rewound to 1954 and the Golden Age of Broadway.
OK, so he’s not yet Harry Connick, Jr., who played Sid in the recent New York revival of the show about a union-management showdown in a pajama factory, but Cannata’s voice is destined for greatness. His leading lady, Sherry Mauch, gave the opposing union leader every bit of sass and sweetness that the part deserves — and she’s no vocal slouch either.
My companion that evening, Suzie Harriman, formerly of Austin Musical Theatre and a longtime radio host for a show on musicals, couldn’t stop talking about the young talent in director Michael McKelvey’s show. “Makes me wish I was young again,” she said.
I understand the sentiment. The cast looked like they were having a blast dancing Danny Herman and Rocker Verastique’s bouncy choreography. Jacob Trussel, Julia Duffy, Elizabeth Shortall, Jarrett King, Hans Klein and their factory-mates defined onstage exuberance.
This is not a formal review, so I can abstain from sharing my quibbles, but I understand why St. Ed’s has added shows for this brash hit.
Hotel St. Cecilia: I should make it clear from the start that the lobby services here are for hotel guests. But if you are lucky enough to be a guest of a guest, then soak it up. I met Mari Marchbanks in the shaded courtyard for lunch. The hotelier asked: “What were we hungry for?” Well, salads sounded good. “I don’t have a lot of greens, but I do have some fresh asparagus and some things from the garden … and some pesto for grilled sandwiches.” A few minutes later, the divinities arrived, whipped up just for us. Now that’s civilization!
Maria, Maria: We’ve been on a hunt for the best happy hours in town. This place certainly competes for the title. Dined there before a show with Suzie and Randy Harriman. We ordered swirled queso flameado, quesadillas, chips and multiple, fantastic margaritas, and got away for under $50 for three. On a hot late afternoon, the place was cool, dark, lively, yet not loud. Highly recommended.
Enoteca Vespaio: I’ve gone on way too long about this casual companion to our favorite Italian joint. But I have to tell you the easiest way to entertain at home with little or not preparation: Use the deli counter. I ordered some of our usuals: pasta salad, haricort vert salad, cheeses (aged provolone, parmaggiano reggiano, creamy cambozola) and the best darn ciabatta in town. We added our own California wine for a picnic with Eugene Sepulveda. Ecstatic.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Parts 1-6, see posts below …
Out & About: Do you know Paul Woodruff at the University of Texas? He’s classicist and head of the newly reconfigured undergraduate school, trying to improve education for the earliest-arrivers at the university, who had been ignored for a long time. Fascinating, fascinating man. He published a book this last year called ‘The Necessity of Theatre.” It blew me away. I’ll send a copy of it over to you. I thought about it while I was watching you, because he defines theater as ‘People watching people doing something worth watching.’
Anna Deavere Smith: That’ interesting.
The way you break things down reminds me a lot of the way he breaks things down and refines them. I don’t know how you choose which of the hundreds of interviews you do to present on the stage. Part of my mind was going to: ‘Are these the things that are most worth watching.’
No. No. For this project, I interviewed over 300 people. There are many things worth watching. This young woman who lost a whole family except for the two sisters in the genocide; who lost her sister, then found her sister, who I think was 10, and the story of how she survived, and now she’s a sophomore at Stanford, pre-med. When I asked her to define grace for me, she said — in Rwanda, they have this campaign of forgiveness, so that the people who were the victims forgive the killers of their families, and often the killers come and seek them out, they come to ask for forgiveness, and I talked to people who had that experience.
And she said that she, ‘At first I told you I forgave the people who killed my family. But that wasn’t true.’ She said, ‘To forgive someone, they have to ask you to forgive them. And these people who killed my family have never come to ask.’ And she said, “But my forgiveness is ready for them to come and take it. When they are ready to come. In the mean time, I’m giving them grace. I say “I’m not holding onto you in my heart any more.” To me, that’s worth seeing.
Is it hard losing those stories from the show?
The staff asked me that. Back to what my grandfather said: ‘If you way a word often enough, it becomes you.’ I learn a lot from getting to speak those words every night. They have something to do with my development. So, no. This is not a … that would be an interesting show to do a curating of the thousands and thousands of interviews that I’ve done. And even going through and saying: “Which ones are the ones that give me the most complex language?” This all started, I told you, with Shakespeare.
I had a teacher, this extraordinary teacher who, on the first day of class, said, ‘In Shakespeare, we expect it to go “ta da, ta da, ta da, ta da, ta da” — iambic pentameter. But if on the second beat it changes, it goes “ta DA da, ta da, ta da…” then that means something is going on.’ Best example was in ‘Lear’ — “Never. Never. Never. Never. Everything’s upside down.’ So some people really show me linguistically and syntactically that something is happening. I’ll give you an example in this show: Remember the mother and the child? The little girl had Leukemia.
So the mother at one point — and they were here opening night, the family — the mother at one point, she’s talking along about a variety of things about her daughter. And as she’s getting to the point that it’s getting clearer and clearer to her that something serious is going on, says ‘Everything the doctors told me, to put ice on it, to consider that it could be mono, that it could be this that or the other. And then one day I picked her up at school’ — and she turns to her daughter and she says — ‘had you had your brace on yet?’ and she says ‘her knee was so, so swollen she put her leg up on the — uh — dash’ and she said ‘Momma, I could barely bend my knee.’ And this was a woman had talked ‘brup, brup, brup, brup, brup’ and she stops and she goes ‘I said, “Oh. Uh. (Pause) You know. Uh. You know. Uh. OK.’
And that’s to me what my Shakespeare teaching was talking about. That’s what I’m looking for. I would say that here the job is more about: ‘How can we take these disparate parts and people from a lot of different places, who don’t have the same story and are not responding to the same story, and kind of create a series of segments that add up to a conversation.”
[We continue to talk, mostly about the education of artists and writers in today’s university environment, but off the record.]
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Parts 1-5, see posts below …
Out & About: Looking at what has been written about this play, the subject has changed many times. And of course, you deal with that in the play. What are the main chapters? Was it originally about grace?
Anna Deavere Smith: It was originally about medicine. The head of the Stanford School of Medicine, at the end of the ’90s, when people still sent letters, sent me a letter on fancy stationary, asking me to come there as visiting professor. And I kind of just shelved that letter. Why? And two extraordinary doctors, Ralph Horwitz, whose now head of the Stanford School of Medicine, and (Dr.) Ashkar, who’s still at Yale. At one point, Horwitz asked me, what are you afraid of? And I don’t remember what I said. But what I thought what I was afraid of was making a fool of myself in front of doctors.
What they wanted me to do was come there and interview doctors and patients, and present that at medical grand rounds, which is a very fancy sort of convening of doctors. Often they hear from scientist. Not a fool, like me. And I use the word fool in the real sense, in the respectable sense of fool. But I did it. I went and did those interviews and I did grand rounds, and it was a very powerful experience. So powerful that I didn’t really have a desire to write a play about anything else in the last decade. And a whole lot of things have happened in that decade — Katrina, World Trade Center, any number of things have happened. And so the first production was medical ground rounds, a so-called production, very minimal, not even really a production. And that was about doctor patient relationships. And they invited me back on two other occasions to present.
And then I guess really the next time I did the material at Zach, following an intensive week or two at MD Anderson, just doing five interviews a day, and coming here and interviewing some people. And I did a staged reading for three or four days. I then went to the Long Wharf Theatre, where the theme was the resilience and vulnerability of the human body. I had a lot of interviews in Rwanda 10 years after the genocide. I went to Uganda to do interviews about HIV-AIDS and also South Africa. The production at the Long Wharf dealt with that, with the Africa part of my inquiry.
Then, at Harvard, I cast everything under the umbrella of a search for grace in the face of the fact that we are frail, we are vulnerable, and the rumor is true, we are mortal. In coming here, in large part because I think — I can’t be sure — the country is moving in a direction that will allow the beginnings of a serious conversation about health care. And so, in coming here and getting ready for New York, I’m trying to highlight the parts of this play, really taking it back to its beginning, and hoping that by the time I get to New York, I can contribute to a conversation about health care.
Excellent. I can see that in the development of the play. I wish you were still teaching acting.
I’m teaching it — I love teaching acting — but in my classes, they are acting, and part of my appointment at NYU is at the law school. Thinking about how to work with the lawyers. And I teach together with some extraordinary minds — Carol Gilligan, do you know her? — the psychologist and this extraordinary legal scholar, Peggy Cooper Davis. I thought what I could try to do there was to think with these young lawyers, how do they engage with people. As a result of my work with Peggy and Carol, I now teach a course called ‘On Engagement.’ It’s really very individualized, only about 15 people, I interview the people ahead of time.
Having them tell me and me tell them what it looks like they use in order to engage. Whether that’s like what we are doing here or what they want to use in the world or in their profession. But then to investigate how much more they have that they are not using in those engagements. And I use acting to do that. I use exercises I’ve used over the years to do it. So much of what I do comes out of a profound interest in engagement, but the process is acting.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Parts 1-4, see posts below …
Out & About: There an actress, what’s her name, she’s in “Two and a Half Men,” you know who I’m talking about …
Anna Deavere Smith: Holland (Taylor)
Yeah, yeah. Has she talked to you?
We saw each other when I did Ann, so we’ve been exchanging e-mails.
Is it part of your process to leave you and your identity somewhat blank to the public? I know almost nothing about you. I do research and find all the professional stuff. I respect this and I’m not trying to pierce this, but your privacy is amazingly well preserved.
Well, I think that I haven’t invested in creating a public narrative. And I think that most people who are in public aren’t really aware … the public space is such a sophisticated space right now, that people create that narrative. I know from being on movie sets and getting to know artists, and I never invested in that. And part of it goes back to my problem with psychological realism.
And as a playwright I made a decision that I never … the most I’ve ever said is this teeny, tiny snippet about my father. I decided not to write a play about my African American upbringing at (address) Baltimore, Maryland. I decided not to write about being in an all black elementary school when we were in an experiment and white people would come and sit in the back of the classroom certain times of the year and watch us learn … I never understood why. I decided not to write about being in one of the first integrated classes in an all Jewish high school. Decided not to write about the seven Negro women who go to an all-women’s college, the biggest group of colored people who’d ever arrived there.
My life is rich! But my project has been something else. My project has been a reach for the other. I’m sure people think I’m kind of liberal. Even that, when I wrote my place in Washington, I traveled on the Republican campaign, I traveled with Dole. It was important to me to be able to continue to have that kind of access. We live in such a partisan world, I didn’t pull that off. And I think by dent of the fact that I deal with race, people make certain assumptions, as to where I stand politically. So I did not clothe, dress, fix, condition, create a narrative, a public narrative.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Parts 1, 2 & 3, see posts below …
Out & About: In your teaching, do you take the classical approach as well?
You know, I teach so many … every year I teach something different. I don’t teach a typical acting class any more. I would like to, but I haven’t in a long time. And now I teach in a theoretical program at NYU, Tisch, in the performance studies department and they are mostly theory people. My class is a practical class and I use acting as a media, but I’m not training people to be on the stage or to be movie stars, not training those kinds of people right now.
Is the play changing, even now?
It won’t change while I’m here. It will change for New York, but it won’t change here.
And when will it open in New York?
In the fall.
Are there intervening productions?
No.
Will you go into another rehearsal period?
Oh yeah. I’m still rehearsing now. I came in today at 10:15. I won’t stop rehearsing. One of the reasons I came here is the chance to continue to work on the characters.
Interesting. Explain your connection to Austin. I missed you before here. I had another job at the paper at the time and didn’t have the opportunity to meet you or see the show before. You seem to have a real connection here.
Right, well I have a good friend who lives here, Chula Reynolds. And I was friends of Ann Richards. And — I can’t remember when I first came to Austin, it was for something, maybe it was for the Texas film awards, I did some kind of presentation. And so that’s my first connection to Austin. The other theater is named after Chula’s mother, the Kleberg, and she’s been a great patron of this project, supported some of the research, and a lot of the work. And she has a connection here with Zach, so that’s what introduced me to Zach.
When you started doing Ann Richards at the matinee I was at on Sunday, they just perked up immediately and responded to vocally. Are you finding that audiences here connect with that section of the play particularly.
Audiences everywhere are responding to that section, because I’ve also done Ann in two other plays and, well, a play and in speeches. And in all the places where this play has been, audiences always respond to her. That’s her gift, that was her gift. It’s a great gift to me to be able to experience what it is she evokes from an audience. And it is that she … she puts herself in their position. And she’s a great orator, a great storyteller.
It’s a great range of sounds she’s able to make. And she’s also a step ahead of them, but her timing is so good, they think they’re slightly ahead of her. She’s leading them, but they don’t realize that. I’ve been at a lot of events where Ann spoke and I watched how she worked a crowd, and she’s really, really an expert. I once interviewed her in San Francisco in a big, big, big hall and she just works a crowd like nobody else.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Parts 1 & 2, see posts below …
Out & About: Is John Lahr right, is there more of you in this play?
Anna Deavere Smith: He says “There’s more of us in the play.” I think he’s right to that extent that he says. “This is something in me and inevitably in all of us.” So I don’t know, for example, in the two plays about race riots or the place about Washington, I don’t know how much the audience identifies or empathizes. And they do to greater and lesser degrees, depending on their capacity for empathy. I think everyone is touched — I don’t know if everyone is touched — I think we are all concerned about our health and the health of the people we love. And the rumor is true: We are mortal.
It is true. What do you mean when you say that, as an actress, your identity if for rent but not for sale?
Right. Yeah, well that’s a sort of clever phrase that I thought about. It’s because, well selling, for me, for anybody, but for me, given my heritage — I haven’t had my genes checked but I’m pretty sure — that they were slaves, the notion of being for sale is kind of outrageous. The notion of being a product for sale. But in terms of being an actress, tempermentally, my identity is always for rent. If I’m renting it out of my enterprise, for my plays, our I’m renting it out to John Wells for “The West Wing,” and now “Nurse Jackie,” I’m happy to give it over. I think that Lahr’s sentence is so fantastic — and I’ve been thinking about this for years — it’s one of the best definitions, you know, essentially, I don’t like to … I find my expression in others. And that’s really what acting is. It is using your own body and psychological, vocal make-up in order to express something that came to you from someone else, whether that’s a playwright, or an ad writer, or, in my case, these people I’ve interviewed.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments … For Part 1, see post below …
Anna Deavere Smith: And then I got started in wanting to understand, why in Shakespeare it was sufficient just to say the words. What was going on that you could just say the words and then very profound things that we would call emotional or psychological could happen. Very, very long story short: That led me to this project which has been, since the ’70s, going around America with a tape recorder. And now Africa, the first place, the first continent outside of America I’ve gone to work.
Going around with a tape recorder, talking to people, recording their words, using something my grandfather said to me when I was young: ‘If you say a word often enough, it becomes you.’ And really studying — and now, I have to say, with even greater care — as I was trained to study Shakespeare’s texts, studying what people say to me. And every sound they make is important and precious. That’s what I’ve dedicated my creative life to. And so, in terms of identification and empathizing, I would say ‘Let’s put those two words aside,’ my goal is to find a connection with a stranger, quickly. And that it doesn’t have to do with ‘Oh, I can identify with that.’ Right? I kind of don’t go on to that step.
Out & About: Is it hard to turn off, the identification impulse?
It just not a part of … when I’m talking to that person, and they start to tell me things about them. Not thinking ‘How is that like me?’ I’m not thinking that. That’s the basis of psychological realism. ‘Everything in the world,’ psychological realism says, ‘lives inside of me.’ Right, so a murderer lives inside of me. I know from talking to some murderers, that it is very hard for me to, quote/unquote, to identify with that. And I don’t know … I’m sure I have the seeds if I were on the wrong side of a genocide, I don’t know. I know. I haven’t encountered the circumstances. Psychological realism would as me to imagine the circumstances. I respect that.
But nonetheless I think I’m looking for a connection and maybe then what that connection becomes like empathy. I’m really … the best way to put it: I’m putting myself into someone’s shoes and trying to imagine what it would be like to be them. And that’s the goal of psychological realism, too, but the process is different. I start from the outside of me to the outside of them and then I’m trying to get inside them and sometimes I get surprised that I am getting so far inside them, or what I think is inside them, and then — boom! — something jumps up inside me and says ‘Boom! I’m here!’ In fact, I do have an identification, but that’s usually a pretty profound experience, not something to be just playing with.
My interview with Anna Deavere Smith, whose “Let Me Down Easy” plays Zach Theatre, will be published in the American-Statesman on April 27. Yet the raw transcript — with all its stops and starts — tells as much about the conversation as the edited article. So here goes, in segments …
Out & About: Tell me more about the difference between identifying and empathizing. I find that fascinating.
Anna Deavere Smith: Well, ah … help me understand: Is this for an article or is this for your blog?
Everything is a blog first. Then it becomes an article. I’m hoping it’s a big article. But that depends on …
How I behave?
(Laughs.) No, no, on what we come up with today. I hope it’s a centerpiece.
Like next week?
Yeah. Well before the close of the show.
OK. Good. Perfect. Great. Well, now you say ‘tell me more about it,’ have I written something about it?
There’s stuff in the program: It’s in the context of you talking about reminding yourself that the person you are talking about is not you.
Right. OK. Well. So. I guess it starts, to be really boring, with how I was trained, way back in the Dark Ages. And there were two extremes … I had very good training, partly at the American Conservatory Theatre in San Francisco when Bill Ball was there. And there were 50 people in the acting company. I lucked out and they plucked me out of school and put me in the company. Then when I was going to leave, Bill Ball said, ‘I heard you were going to New York. Do you want to hang around? We’re going to have an MFA program. We’ll have a few students, do you want to be one?’ I think I was the first to write a thesis. Really, I had extraordinary training. Nothing has matched it in terms of intellectual development and lessons in life. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
I had not intended to be an actress. I sort of tripped on an acting class and all these lights went off. The extremes in my training were that, on the one hand, what was called classical training, so we were trained physically and vocally. I’m going to allude to a little bit of this Friday at the unveiling of Barbara Jordan’s statue because she had in her statement on the Articles of Impeachment fit into what was happening to me in classical training — rigorous physical training, rigorous vocal training, training about interpreting text and understanding meaning in older texts, Shakespeare, the Greeks and so forth … Restoration plays. Then on the other hand, of course, we had psychological realism and that was what our acting classes were about. And after about one year of psychological realism, I was less interested in that, and more interested in the classical part of my training. And that had to do with the fact of its rigor.
I really didn’t understand, I mean, it sounded so subjective — that we were given certain ground rules by the teacher. I kinda thought — and therapy wasn’t what it is now — but I thought ‘I don’t really want this guy, this teacher … and I’d seen his behavior all around in all kinds of ways outside the classroom … I don’t want him analyzing me. If that’s going to happen, I’ll go to a doctor. I don’t want that to happening to me. And I don’t want it to happen in public.’ So I was less interested in that.
The first time I beheld the A-List winners for Best Rock Singer or Group, time stood still. I was mesmerized by Ghostland Observatory for 90 minutes or so. I couldn’t intellectually comprehend the volcanic charisma of this dance-ready duo. Two years later, GO took 21 percent of the vote in the austin360.com contest.
Almost tied with Ghostland was Americana act Reckless Kelly, also at 21 percent. Austin mainstay Bob Schneider came in third with 13 percent. Indie rock band Zykos took 6 percent, closely followed by singer-songwriter Alejandro Escovedo and Boxing Lesson. Okkervil River snuck up behind this tight cluster with 5 percent.
The list is long of those earning 3 percent or less — a good thing if you like democracy. They include Broken Teeth, Vallejo, What Made Milwaukee Famous, Black Angels, White Denim, Octopus Project, The Strange Boys, Patrice Pike, Shearwater, Gulf of Mexico, The Mercers and Tammany Hall Machine.
The Taco Trailer Age has arrived. The streets of central Austin and beyond are dotted with mobile purveyors of everything from crepes to chicken cones. They aren’t the only ones serving up food rapidly.
The A-List vote for best quick-service restaurant included sidewalk, parking-lot and drive-through eateries. The winner produces excellent deli sandwiches and complementary items, fast. Hog Island outlets include a traditional shop midtown on Lavaca Street and a sidewalk-window model lower on Lavaca in the Warehouse District. They gobbled up 31 percent of the vote.
Second place went to a veteran Austin chain — Thundercloud Subs — with 16 percent of the vote. Third place was nabbed by a wrap chain — Freebirds — which many people think is an Austin institution (it’s headquartered — horrors! — in College Station). It chomped down on 9 percent.
Torchy’s Tacos, leaders in both the mobile and stationary taco-firing fields, and P. Terry’s, the innovative hamburger joints, nearly tied at 8 percent. Taco Deli, another perennial favorite, and Zen, which serves Japanese fast food, virtually tied at 4 percent. Taking 3 percent or less were Schlotzsky’s, El Chilito, Dan’s, Sandy’s, Texadelphia, Jason’s Deli, Tamale House, El Regio, Fran’s, Pita Pit, Dog Almighty, Baby Greens, Chango’s and Longhorn Po-boys
Who are Austin’s most social citizens? We’ve been asking that impolite question for five years now at the American-Statesman. And you, the readers, have helped us name the names.
Those names go on a list we call the “Fortunate 500.” It’s actually more like 900 individuals, since couples count as a single social unit on this list, which, this year, will be published in August, both on austin360.com and in Glossy.
It’s not a social register, as you might find on the dusty library shelves in older, more established cities. Austin is inclusive, not exclusive. So people from all walks of life have made the list.
Our single criteria: That they contribute to the social fabric of the city.
Now some — especially the All Stars — are famous. Others are demonstrably rich. But just being rich and famous doesn’t automatically qualify you. And living modestly outside the harsh spotlight of celebrity doesn’t disqualify you.
Looking back on past lists, another theme persists: The gift of time and treasure to the community. Note that time is just as important as treasure. Volunteering to help musicians is just as valuable as donating large sums to a musical charity.
We also like to see the Fortunates out, as in Out & About.
Because this is such a creative and miscellaneous city, we divide the Fortunate 500 into sub-categories. Besides those All Stars, Fortunates are listed under the rubrics of Arts, Business, Charity, Faith & Education, Food, Heritage, Media & Books, Movies, Music, Politics & Law, Nightlife, Sports Style. We also publish a list of Part-Timers, who sometimes then evolve into full-time Austinites.
We considered a separate category for social media this year, but so far have decided to classify those whose platform is mainly digital into the Books & Media category.
Send in your nominations today to mbarnes@statesman.com.
Pictured are Christy and Turk Pipkin, the Top Picks in the All Star category in 2008.
We aim to find out in a conversation with Austin’s largest nonprofits during the coming weeks. Final numbers from 2008 are not in for all groups, but experts project — and published anecdotal evidence supports the notion — that charitable giving has gone flat, and may have slumped significantly.
But what about social giving? Does anyone track that?
We attend several fundraisers each week and organizers routinely report record nets. Perhaps this is because they are spending less — 25 percent, say, rather than 30 or 40 percent — on the events themselves. That tends to improve the bottom line.
Those fundraisers are one component in “social giving.” I like to define it as “giving in front of other people.”
Some donors prefer to write checks in private. Nothing wrong with that.
Others give through social outlets — parties, auctions, athletic races, meetings, volunteer opportunities, giving clubs.
This kind of giving increases the social bond among the givers and with the nonprofit group. One is contributing time or treasure in public, not for vanity — although that universal human weakness can play a part, surely — but because putting your name on something in front of other people means you believe in it.
Austinites, I suspect, are particularly drawn to social giving. We are a participatory society by nature. And the idea giving here is not limited to some imaginary upper crust.
Studies have shown that, on a dollar or per capita basis, we are not a spectacularly charitable city, however. Our history of serious philanthropy is alarmingly short.
Yet Austinites give in increments. And they give in public. And that does not seem to have disappeared in a bruised economy.
Students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class, teamed under the name Pinnacle Media Solutions, had pushed a doggy angle when we did our media relations workshop.
I thought Pinnacle meant pet clothes or spa supplies were for sale among the shop’s organic and recycled clothing and accessories. No, it’s just that pets are welcome in the store.
“My business partner brings her dog down every day,” says owners Katie Friedman, who had appeared in a magazine shoot with her own pet. “My dog is not as well-behaved.”
Today, UT marketing student Karalisa Young sent me the following follow-up questionaire, which I think readers should help answer.
What are your opinions about the gentrification of East Austin?
Do you have any general thoughts about the future of the area, especially regarding retail opportunities?
How important do you believe high-end organic clothing is in Austin? Do you think there is a growing demand?
Most recognized for his cosmic surfer on the HBO series “John from Cincinnati,” Austin actor Austin Nichols has two excuses to celebrate this week.
He has signed on for two more seasons of “One Tree Hill,” the teen television drama on the CW network. He was introduced to the series as Hollywood producer Julian Baker who shakes up a small North Carolina town.
Additionally, Nichols’ movie, “The Informers,” opens Friday nationwide. On the big screen, he supports Kim Basinger, Mickey Rourke, Billy Bob Thornton and Winona Ryder in the drama about greed-riddled, decadent Hollywood during the 1980s.
Striking Amber Heard, also from Austin, earned a choice role in that mass-acted film as well.
Businessman Deep Nasta is not the only Austinite with a Facebook campaign aimed at landing on television. (See previous post.)
University of Texas public relations major, Grace Kelso, and her best friend and cousin, Hannah Boshart, are hoping to land on “The Amazing Race” when it auditions for the 15th edition in Chicago. They are using every social media they can think of, including a well-designed blog, videos, Twitter and Facebook. They’ve set up polls on several sites, including with CBS.
I’m sure the numbers have grown, but the following results for their less-than-a-week-old campaign on their blog:
1,005 Facebook group members
91 wall posts on the Facebook group
22 YouTube videos
1,336 YouTube views
More than 2,098 blog views
17 blog comments
85 tweets relating to our campaign to get on the race
4 outside blogs linking to ours (make that 5)
I met Kelso in a UT public relations class, were I conducted a workshop on social media and the press. If this was her official class project, I’d suggest she earned an “A.”
I always feel privileged to visit the home of Steve Hicks and Donna Stockton-Hicks. The Renaissance Revival manse, planted on a serene piece of hilly Pemberton land, is like something out of an antiquarian’s dream.
Steve Hicks, Donna Stockton-Hicks, James Street
You cross a vine-covered ravine to reach a cluster of buildings. The big one, restored to its original integrity by Stockton-Hicks, rises to your right. Two matching outer buildings peek out from greenery to the left.
Mandy Myers, Mack Brown, Sally Brown
Out back, one finds a civilized terrace bracketed by loggias and overlooking a professionally dappled lawn, more out-buildings, a beautifully shaped pond and manicured gardens. It’s the kind of design synthesis so secure in its origins and surroundings, it could date back 500 years, not just a few decades.
Susan Cullen, John Cullen
I had returned Sunday for the Rise School of Austin Gala. Aimed at children with Down Syndrome and other developmental delays, the Rise School also integrates typically developing kids with its primary clients, as I learned from Dinah Street’s uplifting address to a dignified group seated under a modest tent.
Dinah Street, Ryan Street
She was only one of many Streets — Austin sports and business royalty — in attendance, along with her husband Ryan and his father, James. The latter brought in plenty of marquee power, along with Edith and Darrell Royal and Mack and Sally Brown.
Lisa Youngblood, Wes Youngblood
Horns were hooked, and some of the live auction items included access to coaches and players next football season. Among the other big shots I greeted under the tent were John and Susan Cullen (he teams with Hicks at Capstar Partners), Venus Strawn, resplendent in a floral frock, as well as that super-couple, Michelle Valles and Ray Benson.
So I felt triply blessed, by the surroundings, the guests and the commendable cause.
Austin realtor Deep Nasta may have been the object of a late-night talk-show joke on Friday, but he liked it. And friends are organizing a Facebook campaign to return him to NBC’s “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.”
“I was just waiting in line when two writers came up and asked I could answer a few questions,” Nasta says. “After that, they took me to meet some other writers who ‘approved’ me. They told me they were going to use me in the show but didn’t say exactly how. They just asked me if I like dogs.”
Right after a video mocking the affect of cult fave Susan Boyle singing “I Dreamed a Dream,” and before guests Matthew Perry, Adam Goldberg and Plain White T’s appeared, Nasta was elected “President of the Audience” by the “Wheel of Democracy.” (The previous president was impeached for missing too many shows.)
“Next thing you know, I’m being called on stage,” he says. “They gave me a Portuguese Water Dog puppy to hold during the entire show.”
As of 4:17 p.m. Monday, “Bring Deep Nasta, Audience President, Back to Late Night with Jimmy Fallon” had attracted 108 voters on Facebook.
Talking to parents, teachers and backers, I heard familiar praise: That the single-gender experience within a small student body and even smaller classes is highly effective for certain types of students. (It did for me: I attended the similarly structured Strake Jesuit in Houston.)
Alva Learmonth, Jennifer Hotz
On another scale-related issue, the school’s Starry, Starry Nights Gala fit the Four Seasons Hotel banquet rooms like Cinderella’s shoe. No crowding. Plenty of time and space for the silent auction in the lobby. (Hint to organizers: Cash bars undercut auction sales. Not that I was indulging, mind you.)
Elizabeth Nieto, Jenny Smrekar
I didn’t stick around for the grub, either, but I’ll gamble it was special. Almost always is at the Seasons. And the staff sets the gold standard for service in town.
MaryPat Bolger, Frank Curry
In fact, they go too far sometimes. I kid them about their over-protective policies regarding guests’ privacy privileges. Once, a concierge refused to tell me the correct name of a gala over the phone, as if fact-checking the title might compromise the event’s security. Can’t be too careful, I guess.
The miracle of the Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival Fair at Driftwood was the quick transformation of a muddy field into a gustatory playground.
Eric Garves, Dakota Young
The road leading to the cluster of massive, white tents was cut just Saturday. Workers spread truckloads of mulch to dry out the fields. By the stroke of noon on Sunday, all was prepared. Wind helped the drying process.
Stuart Wilson, Katie Walthall, Kelly Archer
Hays County officials reported that traffic was smooth, primarily from Austin via MoPac, Texas 45 and FM 1826. And, other than a bottleneck at the intersection of 45 and 1826, they were right about the flow in the early afternoon. The parking was another story, spread wide across the fields near the Salt Lick in Driftwood. Also, the sign at the venerable barbecue just wasn’t clear enough about movin’ on down the road.
Curt Crawford, Kristin Crawford
The fair’s return to Driftwood worked, in the end, but I heard grumbling from fest-goers who preferred the close parking and shade of San Gabriel Park in Georgetown, site of the event for the past two years. Admittedly some of the grumblers hailed from north Austin, but they should get their say, too.
Tracy, Jordan (first names only)
The lines seemed even longer this year for samplings — the crowd was estimated at 3,000 — but I didn’t detect any grumpiness. Maybe we can credit the fine wines, which seemed more numerous than in years past.
Chris Clever, Lindsey George
I didn’t indulge, anticipating three more events in succession after the fair. But once again the festival backers must be slipping bribes to the weather gods, because, for a third year in a row, they’ve received heaven in return.
Some things you might not know about Californian Christopher Gorham, the steady-ready actor best known as Betty’s second boyfriend, Henry, on “Ugly Betty”:
At first, he resisted Central Texas, where his wife’s brothers had moved. “We really wanted to hate it,” he says. “But we love it. Except the heat.”
He was warned that the drive from El Paso to San Antonio was the worst in the world. Yet Gorham rather liked the subtle changes in terrain. And the traffic beat the flat drive to and from Los Angeles and his original hometown, Fresno.
He’s been typed as a “nice guy” and a “smart guy” for 12 years of almost uninterrupted TV work.
In high school, he wanted to play Caliban, the monster from “The Tempest.” He still dreams about playing “Wolverine.” Another wish was to play in indie movie favorite “Lars and the Real Girl.”
Lucky to look young, the 34-year-old has been offered umpteen “teenage slasher” roles. But he’s always on a series and available for three months out of the year.
“Also I’m picky,” he says, which drives his manager crazy.
In TV series, including his current “Harper’s Island,” he often plays opposite twentysomethings. “It’s strange,” he says. “I sometimes feel like ‘The Old Man and the Sea.’ ”
He met America Ferrera for only a few minutes before he was chosen to play Henry on “Betty.” His role was first envisioned as a one-episode shot as a “surly, grumpy accountant.” That grew into four episodes, then two seasons. Producers split Henry and Betty, at first, for the romantic sparks, and again probably because they didn’t want Betty saddled with a single dad.
He’s only played one dumb role: An alcoholic frat guy on “Felicity.” “It was fun,” he says.
Some things you might not know about Austinite Joe Dowdle, who survived eight episodes on “Survivor” and just disclosed the details of his reality-TV experience:
He played high school football and then basketball in his hometown of Arlington. At the University of Texas, the 2004 graduate and fraternity brother was drummed into the service group the Cowboys, the so-called Skull and Bones of UT. Those are the guys who blast off the big cannon at football games.
He loves “getting out into uncomfortable places and fighting the elements.” Yet he’s more into hunting, fishing, camping and skiing, rather than the extremes of “Survivor.” He lost 25 pounds on the rice diet.
“Speedo shots” exist of Dowdle from his audition tape, which, he says, “Thank God only a few people saw.”
When the “Survivor” producers airlifted Dowdle out of Tocantins because of his infected leg, he was first taken to a chaotic Brazilian public hospital, then was transferred to a private one that felt “like a resort.”
Dowdle had planned to act more misleading, but once he got to know everybody on the show, he “played it straight up.” Early alliances, though, “sowed the seeds of mistrust.”
He’s not reading blogs about “Survivor.”
He’s a musician working on his first CD.
He’s not dating, per se, but he’s “talking to one beautiful girl right now.” I had never heard that euphemism before.
You’d be hard pressed to find a more enchanted location for a medium-sized party than the grounds of Big Red Sun on East Cesar Chavez.
Judith Sims, Denise Prince
The exotic plants and decor are already in place at this breakthrough landscaping center. One can move from leaf-bound niches and coves to an ample shared social space improved by raised areas for performances and announcements.
Marla Tucker, Keri Kropp, Miles Horton
The Gala Ganesh for Women & Their Work was further enriched by the fabrics and accessories worn by the guests, many in the tradition of the subcontinent. We’re not talking about ultra-high-design gowns, but rather gorgeously threaded fabrics employed in all manner of draping.
Barbara Ann Kelso, Steve Redman
Many longtime friends of the arts — Judith Sims, Jessie Otto Hite, Mary Margaret Farabee, Barbara Ann Kelso, Chris Cowden — mingled with newcomers in the scented garden.
Shawn Smith, Ann Burman
We spoke with former State Sen. Ray Farabee about his political memoir, also about Billy Lee Brammer’s much-praised political novel, “The Gay Place,” for which he expressed mixed feelings.
Mary Jane Nalley, Honor Guiney
Respect was paid to the namesake deity through genuine dance and musical performances. If I am not mistaken, that was exquisite Anuradha Naimpally onstage.
Frances Jones, Wanda Davis
So Gala Ganesh and the AIA Awards meant two intoxicating party locales — Browning Hangar at Mueller and Big Red Sun — for my foreshortened Saturday evening out.
Who knew an empty, wood-beamed hangar, open at both ends, could be so inspiring?
Tamara Toon, Michael Waddell
The 1940s-era Browning Hangar at the Mueller Development, formerly the city’s airport, soars like some modernist monument. It was meant for purely utilitarian purposes — parking and fixing airplanes — and now awaits its next role.
Kristina Schlegel, Habib Irshad
Austin’s architects were taken with it, since the AIA-Austin Awards were staged, partly under the Browning’s noble curve, partly in a nearby tent.
Jordan Kasper, Samara Spence
The hangar was one of only a few structures — including the scooped air traffic tower and the Austin Studios hangar — salvaged by arts and architecture lovers at the old airport.
Natalie Navar, Julie Seay
Guests, especially the women, dressed in vintage wear dating back at least to the 1930s. One elegant attendee even put a Marcel wave in her hair! A few vintage cars were polished to perfection. Nothing like the raging hordes of oldie autos on South Congress Avenue the same evening, but sweet for posing.
Camille Jobe, Alan Cano
Ran into Mayor Will Wynn, who helped save the airport structures, while pushing central-city development during his tenure. All appropriate for someone who studied architecture in school. Fritz Steiner, dean of the UT School of Architecture, was glowing. After all, the Browning is now as much a object of landscape design, his specialty.
Patrick Winn, Michele Winn, James Haynes
I couldn’t stay for the actual awards — in fact, my entire evening was severely truncated by traffic and parking issues — but on the way out, I heard a tribute to my absolutely favorite Austin designer, Emily Little.
Shannon Carabetta, Keven Gedko
As you know, Little was named a “Fellow” of AIA nationally, a high honor in the profession, something like becoming a platinum member. It goes along with Little’s other honors, including being inducted into the Austin Arts Hall of Fame.
So what did I sample the Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival’s Stars Across Texas event? Seems a sin not to share.
Lisa Fox, Emmett Fox
Among the reds, I liked the simplicity of Rob Mondavi Jr. and partner’s Medusa Petite Syrah, grapes grown in Lodi, Calif. (The winery is better known for their old-vine Zinfandels, but I wanted something lighter to start.) Had to taste the McPherson Sangiovese, since Statesman food writer Mike Sutter made such a fuss over it in Wednesday’s Life & Food section. It’s a keeper from the budget shelf.
Love birds 101X’s Deb O’Keefe, chef James Robert
Among the whites, I couldn’t help dipping into the viogniers. The Treana edition is pretty robust compared to Texas viogniers. This family owned winery is based in Paso Robles, Calif., not far from where we tarried with Paul Talley back in October. Love that mid-coast country.
Ria Radke, Raj Radke (he of the Four Seasons Hotel)
Steak was everywhere. Anything that could be served “Tartare” was served that way. Loved the tuna from Trio. A little potato treat from Aquerelle livened up the VIP Lounge.
Cut-ups Chris Fronda, Brian Spears
Sweets were also easy to come by. Uchi’s hazelnut cup combined several textures for a big bang of taste. Adored the Roscar chocolates from Bastrop. Why are they only available at Breed & Co.? They should be everywhere!
Susan Franzen, Demetrius McDaniel
Spent some time with Paul Petersen, who is headed back to Austin from Marathon, as well as Emmett and Lisa Fox (Asti, Fino), personal heroes since they have nurtured their above-campus restaurants so tenderly. Also learned more about Max’s Wine Dive, which is moving in across from Rio Grande Mexican restaurant on San Jacinto Boulevard.
Spent the most time with a sage-spiked Collins cocktail, dishing the dirt with reputation-maker Elaine Garza. Bacchus was honored on all fronts. Into the moony night.
Practiced hosts know it’s impossible to dictate a good time.
Erin Holman, Blake Holman
One can arrange for all the right ingredients and a social event can still fall flat.
Becky Holditch, Damon W. Holditch (he runs Marquee Event Group, which provides the customized tents for so many galas; some fascinating engineering is involved)
The Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival, however, has proved time and again that it is immune to failure, no matter the venue, no matter the backstage politicking that has made for juicy headlines in the past.
Justin Evans, Patricia Muñiz, Brian Falligant
The right food, the right wine, the right venue, the right people — it always falls into place for this festival, which has not only helped transform the culinary scene in Central Texas, but also set an example for countless other festival nights of nibbles and nips.
Christian Casas, Jesse Elliott
Austin Museum of Art’s La Dolce Vita may be older, but this wine and food fest embraces both local and international bounty, so the chefs and winemakers up their games. It’s an educational event as much as anything else, introducing the palate to countless new sensations, guided by experts along the way.
Donna Piazza, Jill Lewis
One of the signature social events during the fest is Stars Across Texas. This year, it was staged at the Long Center, using a long tent over part of the plaza, then colonizing upper and lower lobbies, as well as the Rollins Hall downstairs for a VIP “boom boom room.”
Eli King, Hilary Schmidt
I don’t have to work this event very hard. I run into countless interesting people and introduce myself to folks with fresh perspectives. Everyone asks: What have you liked, then they send you to a table where another delectable dish or perfectly poised wine is being served.
Because fraternities and sororities are, by definition, closed societies, it’s easy to forget, if you are on the outside, that they often do good works. And they do so without much publicity.
Guy Perry, Nicole Perry
(In fact, they could use some expert media relations advice. Maybe one of those crack University of Texas teams of publicity-skilled students could take them on as projects, one at a time.)
Anne DeVries, Tracie Dickey
Phi Delta Theta, for instance, stages a huge fundraiser for the Busby Foundation, a local charity that provides support for families dealing with ALS.
Peggy Mosteller, Tim Mosteller
It is named for Bo Busby, who, before his death in 2006, seems to have met everyone, including many of these pre-, post- and present-fraternity brothers, along with family and friends. He headed Hill Partners Corporate Services, LLC as well, so the crowd included representatives from law, business and real estate.
Tim Gray, Melissa Gray
The Phi Delta Theta Crawfish Boil has reached its fifth year without any sign of diminution. The central draw is the huge tubs of the reddish pink critters, piled high on butcher paper. Beer is the beverage of choice.
Griffin Byatt, Crystal Lincoln, Travis Alvarado
They also came for Bob Schneider, the consummate professional, who is capable of attracting a crowd of 1,000 more intense followers to the outdoor Stubb’s stage, even though he plays Austin almost every week.
Sometimes I just rub my eyes. Surely I’ll wake up and the sudden improvements in Austin’s nascent glamor scene will have vanished like so many mirages.
Bruce Wolfe, Jennie Branch
But no. The city continues to attract top-notch retailers. Thursday night, Bruce Wolfe opened our town’s Ligne Roset boutique, a high notch on the mod meter inconceivable just a few months ago.
Antoine Roset, Jill Douglas
The venerable French design firm, headquartered near Lyons, joins a half dozen other modish furniture and art galleries in the Second Street district. (And those fit comfortably with the restaurants, bars, clothing shops and accessories outlets.)
Jamie Smith, Gary McGaughey
This imaginative yet clean-lined look certainly fits the lifestyles of the upwardly residential better than the Dallas-based apparel store that preceded it.
I met Antoine Roset, the dashing fifth-generation representative of his furniture family. He works at the firm’s New York offices.
Laura Garanzuay, Diana Fuentes
Wolfe himself was in fine form, and thanked Austin designer Linda Asaf for encouraging him to open the boutique.
Armand Daniels, Nicole Ellison
I rarely mention the cocktails served at these events, but someone had the clever idea of serving sparkling drinks mixed with elegant St. Germain liqueur. Fit the mood exactly.
The perkiest news at designer Linda Asaf’s Modern Goddess Collection Reception was not the classically draped models floating from room to room at her West Sixth Street studios.
Maddie Goodnight, Shawn Goodnight, Danielle Evans
It was the promise that those studios would soon undergo a renovation, making them less boxy and confining in the homey former bungalow.
Michael Bridlinger, Megan Pinto
Of course the style community showed up for Asaf’s low-key showing, to paw the sensuous spring and summer fabrics.
Katherine Johnson, Karen Miller
That’s because Asaf remains among the most amiable and connected designers in town.
Chris Griffin, Dora Parrish
In fact, she was sending her guests onward to another party, the opening of Bruce Wolfe’s Ligne Roset boutique on West Second Street, which immediately followed hers.
Sharon Chen, Runi Weerasooriya
Generous and savvy. Having Lignet Roset in town is a cold fat juicy plum for the contemporary retail community. Asaf knows that.
Even with this full schedule, I’ll miss the Juvenile Diabetes Association’s Hope Ball at the Hilton Austin, the National Women’s Political Caucus President’s Circle Event at Spiderwood Studios in Bastrop, the Art Bra Fashion Show & Auction for the Breast Cancer Resource Centers of Texas at the Design Center Penn Field, Heritage Society of Austin’s Cuba Libre Event at Las Ventanas, and the Jesse James event at Austin Speed Shop.
Everyone is trying to party before spring ends. This may be the most crowded gala evening of the year.
4 p.m. POLO GAME CANCELED
6 p.m. One Child at a Time 2009 Gala for Rawson-Saunders School at Lakeway Resort and Spa
8 p.m. AIA Austin Annual Awards Gala at Browning Hangar at Mueller
9 p.m. Gala Ganesh for Women & Their Work at Big Red Sun
10 p.m. Art Erotica for the Octopus Club at the Copper Tank
I had given myself plenty of time to make “Avenue Q.” Uptown traffic was light. Key choke points were easily avoided.
Deftly playing the north-flow odds, I swerved into the left lane on Red River Street just in time to enter the LBJ Library and Museum parking lot. More than enough time to make the musical at Bass Concert Hall.
Uh oh.
I’d parked in this lot — free — for 25 years. Used it just the other day when I guest lectured on media relations, though that was during the day.
(I offer a lot of free workshops on a variety of subjects. Next week: St. Ed’s.)
I flipped, though, when I saw the line of cars and the sign: “Event Parking $7.”
It was not the dollar amount. That’s a reasonable charge in that usurious biz.
Yet, unprepared, my pockets jingled with maybe two quarters. The sign might have well read: “No Parking.”
Oh well, I’ll head to the … no, the UT Thompson Conference Center lot, almost empty, bore a sign that, without permit, cars would be towed away. At any time.
Swell. I cruised the streets along Dean Keeton. The only open space was snatched by a giant SUV. My consolation: It probably took him 5 minutes to parallel-park that behemoth.
So obviously now I’m feeling pretty petty about the situation. The truth is, I still don’t pay for night parking in this city. I walk. Or I park at a distance. If I’m stuck at a place with valet-only parking — house parties in the hills, for instance — I tip the valet handsomely. But if I have a choice, I find a free space.
At 7:55 p.m. — five minutes before curtain — I give up. No “Avenue Q” for me. My apologies to Broadway Across America for missing it. And to the other events I skipped while I was trying find a parking space.
I know some of you are thinking: As social columnist and self-styled expert on Austin nightlife, Michael Barnes should have known better. I didn’t. I had heard about the new charge for parking, but it didn’t sink in.
I had been begging Andy Roddick’s people for any details about his weekend wedding to Brooklyn Decker, to no avail.
Then intrepid American-Statesman fashion reporter Marques Harper mines all these details in one quick conversation at a media event I stupidly skipped.
I hate him.
Wait, no, he lent me the scoop! Hurray for Marques!
Brooklyn will wear a Vera Wang dress. Vera Wang offered to make the dress. She is a good friend of Andy’s. They know each other because Vera and Andy have stayed in neighboring properties in Hawaii for some time. Andy usually stops in Hawaii every year on his way to play in the Australian Open.
Andy had offers from several designers including Austin-born Tom Ford for his wedding outfit. However, he is keeping the look a secret until the wedding day.
There will be 30 people, mostly family and a few friends, at the Friday wedding.
The Saturday reception will be at Stubb’s.
They have selected an the Spazmatics to play the reception.
Andy doesn’t want to provide photos to the media. He did get offers from (probably) People and US Weekly and those types of mags. However, he said he wants to keep the event private even though the money paid for a photo could go to his charity. Andy just wants to have a special moment.
Andy and Brooklyn have really never been to a wedding or reception so they planned something very simple.
Elton John will play at the wedding, which will likely be outside.
There isn’t a backup plan if there’s bad weather on Saturday.
When you’ve been married 18 years, you really don’t need to impress your date.
Yet romance still blooms at ages 54 and 45. So the A-List winners for “Best Place to Impress a Date” also make do for “Best Place to Impress Your Husband of 18 Years.”
The winner has been Austin’s hottest restaurant of the past decade — Tyson Cole’s twist on Japanese cuisine, Uchi. The South Lamar retreat encloses a grown-up patio and bar, superb sushi as well as dramatic creations from the master himself. Uchi ruled with 23 percent of the vote.
Places No. 2 and 3 went to long-established, high-atmosphere restaurants with their own celebrity chefs — Driskill Grill (11 percent) and Hudson’s on the Bend (10 percent). Truluck’s, the small restaurant group with the astonishingly fresh seafood, made No. 4 with 8 percent.
Jeffrey’s, once best known as the Bush family’s favorite haunt, culled 7 percent, with hip Hotel San Jose right behind. Refined Wink squeezed out 6 percent, while Italian eye-opener Vespaio took 5 percent. Next in line were not restaurants, but instead a museum event and a performing arts center — B Scene at the Blanton (4 percent) and Long Center (3 percent).
Virtually tied after that were Cru, One World Theatre, Paggi House, and Vino Vino. Bringing up the rear with 2 percent or less were Aquerelle, Cafe Jose and Zoot. And if those are your closers, you know everything on this list will impress.
Years ago, to record a really hot disc, musicians were forced to camp in Los Angeles or New York, or at the very least, Nashville. Now Austin is home to numberless high-quality recording studios, along with domestic improvisations that, because of the digital revolution, can equal the top products of the past.
Winner of this year’s Your A-List vote on Best Recording Studio is Bismeaux Studio, which has immortalized the sounds ofAsleep at the Wheel, Kelly Willis, Carolyn Wonderland, Pam Tillis, Trace Adkins, Willie Nelson, Huey Lewis, Bonnie Raitt, Garth Brooks, Vince Gill, Dolly Parton, Merle Haggard, Tracy Byrd, Marty Stuart, Dwight Yoakam and George Strait. How about that for a play list?
Bismeaux stomped with 38 percent of the vote. Nelson’s own Pedernales Studios — with its magnificent equipment — came in second with 18 percent, while Xylo, unknown to this writer, picked up 16 percent.
Congress House came in fourth with 6 percent. Receiving 3 percent or less were Ohm, The Finishing Studio, Sweatbox, The Bubble, Wire Recording, Addison Studio, Cacophany, Murray Music, Music Land, Premium, Top Hat and Flash Point.
Turk and Christy Pipkin apparently can do no wrong.
Roni Gendler, Jonathan Saad
They’ve waltzed their way through several careers worth of entertainment.
Kate Gose, Matt Naylor (the movie’s editor/associate producer)
More recently, they’ve turned their prodigious energies to the global stage, where they work to solve massive problems, in the terms of the latest Pipkin movie, “One Peace at a Time.”
Courtney Rainwater, Caroline Boudreaux, Myndi Garrett
The earlier “The Nobelity Project,” which focused the minds of Nobel Prize winners on crushing issues of hunger, poverty and such, attracted a national cast of celebrity supporters.
Mariel Falbo, Fred Falbo
Some of those were in attendance at the Austin Museum of Art, for a “One Peace at a Time” pre-party; at the Paramount Theatre, for the premiere screening, and at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse, for the after-party.
Philip Berber, Turk Pipkin, Christy Pipkin, Donna Berber
Founders of various charitable foundations, including Glimmer of Hope and Miracle, were present, as were big names on the social and philanthropy scene.
Nav Sooch, Whitney Casey
We met a few for the first time, caught up with others, and also made a fool of ourselves, failing to recognize some of the city’s most notable notables.
Charles Duggan, Garth McGuire
The pre-party was spiced up by Leslie Moore’s Word of Mouth Catering’s niblets and some of the best Texas wine from Becker Vineyards.
Suzanne Winkelman, Sherry Matthews
The only thing missing was Amy’s Ice Cream, although instead we got a chance to meet Amy and Steve Simmons, which is even better.
Eloise DeJoria, Eddie Safady, Donna Berber
We quizzed producer Charles Duggan about his plans to jump back into the local theatrical gambit. And we spent the most time with the Winkelmans, a multi-generational family social entrepreneurs who have blazed new trails for conscience and commitment.
Henry fans note: He will return to “Ugly Betty” for one more episode this season.
Betty’s second boyfriend on the series, played by Christopher Gorham, lasted two seasons before they were separated by thousands of fictional miles — and a newborn — his, not hers.
The father of three in real life, Gorham tarried in Central Texas this week, relishing the spring weather and visiting his wife’s relatives in Rock Rock.
You can see him these days on “Harper’s Island,” the CBS murder mystery series, but the shooting is done, so Gorham is free.
What about a shot at a character in “Friday Night Lights”? Yep. “I’d move Anel and the kids here in a second,” Gorham said.
We’ll share much more from our chat at Dominican Joe later …
Gina Ducloux, opera singer and wife Austin Lyric Opera co-founder, Walter Ducloux, has died. See the Austin Arts blog for details.
Tennis ace Andy Roddick, and swimsuit model Brooklyn Decker will wed in Austin this weekend, Usmagazine.com confirms.
It will be “very small. Just friends and family. Not a big Hollywood crowd as they’re not like that,” the publication says.
The New York Post previously reported that Decker and her bridesmaids “had a big bachelorette weekend in Chapel Hill, N.C.” last weekend. “They just bounced around and had a great time,” according to the Post.
No confirmation yet regarding singer and Roddick pal Elton John’s rumored appearance at the ceremony.
He’s home. He’s healthy. And “Survivor” survivor Joe Dowdle has earned plenty of time to heal his injured leg.
The Austin businessman airlifted off Tocantins, Brazil during Episode 8 of Season 18 has actually been home since December, when the reality series was shot. But he couldn’t go public with his shortened adventure until last week, when his final episode aired.
“I am back in action,” he said. “Everything is back to normal.”
Arlington-raised Dowdle was disappointed that a not-so-big scrape picked up during an “immunity challenge” turned infected, forcing him off the show. Accompanied by a nurse, he was stitched up at a private Brazilian hospital before returning to Austin. A former member of the University of Texas service organization, the Cowboys, Dowdle still savors hunting, fishing, skiing, hiking and camping, but never experienced anything as extreme as “Survivor.”
He lost 25 pounds on the all-rice diet and discovered that he couldn’t trust his tribal allies, even though, as Dowdle says, he himself “was playing it straight.” He’s now free to make money, make music — he’s an aspiring musical artist — and make new friends. Would he ever return to Brazil? “I’m going to stay in a five-star hotel for sure,” he jokes.
Thanks to — in historical order — cable, DVDs, TiVo and Hula, the social stress of following television has evaporated. No longer does one need “appointment TV,” except for major breaking news or sports events. It’s all there, all the time, ready to share with friends and colleagues.
The months roll by in a leisurely voyage of pleasure following pleasure. I’m finishing up my “Damages” season late, but who cares? The more linear second season doesn’t quite match the breakthrough of the first. With Glenn Close, William Hurt, Marcia Gay Harden, Ted Danson and, yes, increasingly, Rose Byrne, as the leads, the writing doesn’t need to overwhelm.
I’m vaguely following “American Idol,” mostly because the finalists this year are actually good. I could live with any of the Final 7 winning. But what the heck is Quentin Tarantino doing as the guest this week?
“The Graham Norton Show” now officially ties “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” and “The Soup” for regular, giddy fun. Norton’s guest list is peerless and the British wits almost always outshine the Hollywood stars, who at least loosen up on his show.
Norton’s in-house ads led directly to the guiltiest pleasure of the season: “Any Dream Will Do.” Am I the only American watching this? In this 2007 reality competition, Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber is casting a West End production of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” so a long line of bright-eyed young men sing their hearts out for him and a standard bank of judges.
Oh. My. Goodness. The Lord’s inherent creepiness is offset by host Norton’s pop savvy. Just watching these guys, sporting a United Kingdom of accents, weep profusely at the chance to play Joseph is entertaining enough. (Yes, we know who eventually wins and ends up in the 2008 production, but that doesn’t matter. We just like the camp.)
I’m finally watching “Breaking Bad,” not only for Bryan Cranston’s Emmy Award-winning performance as the high school chemistry teacher who turns to cooking meth after discovering he has cancer, but also for the dark-eyed writing, superb supporting cast and alert use of Albuquerque as a location. It’s the kind of show that could have ended up shooting here, but it actually would have done our reputation no good.
When I first heard DrumJam play 16 months ago, they were little more than a winning concept backed by a lot of enthusiasm. As their name suggests, DrumJam’s origins bump back to the drum-circles tradition, but also the Dionysian excess of STOMP and related theatrical rhythm performances.
Over the course of months, I continued to check in. Late Friday, I caught them inside at Stubb’s after the sold-out Blue October concert (outside). At my suggestion, theatrical director Dave Steakley, along with his partner, Tony Johnson, met me there. I also ran into SureFire Media’s Stephen Tatton, a sure spotter of emerging talent. He appeared to be on his way out after the marquee act, but stayed for the entire set instead.
DrumJam has evolved. Zack Attack, the charismatic guitarist, is now way more than a metal hair act in the making. He adds a controlled layer of wiry melody to the mix. Chris Saad remains the magnetic core of the band, focusing the audience’s attention and leading his cohorts in frenetic drum play. They all contribute, though, equally and with disciplined frenzy.
The band closed their set with mass audience participation, Saad bringing guests up on the stage. Steakley, king of such things, must have loved that.
(Later, Steakley, Johnson and I repaired to the Rusty Spurs and the attached bar next door. We ran into the owner who promised good news soon.)
I had always wanted to visit Palmetto State Park, located on a lazy stretch of the lower San Marcos River. Since childhood, I had read about its semi-tropical vegetation, overflowing mudpots and warm springs. Quite the contrast to the prairies and post-oak breaks on the rolling hills above the hidden valley. (Sorry, that’s still Luling directly below.)
What I didn’t know was that the park encompassed the town of Ottine, an open spot that looked not much different from a mid-19th-century, pre-commercial settlement. It had been requisitioned by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression — fascinating panoramic photos can be found n a hallway at the park headquarters — and a large, white, tiled sanitarium building remains, practically the size of the rest of the hamlet.
“It was a big place during the polio days,” my father told me the next day. Who knew? We hiked the trim trails to find sensibly laid-out campgrounds and family activities abounding on an Easter weekend. I didn’t see much in the way of tropical overgrowth until we headed around the oxbow lake, which led us to view reminiscent of the Old South.
Earlier, I had spied this snake, which at first looked to me like a copperhead. Later I identified as a broad-banded water snake. Not so scary.
Our last glimpse of the San Marcos was from a high bridge reached from a lonely Gonzales County road. The wood slats were breaking up and the steel spikes rattled in their holes. The whole experience rattled me too, as I stared down at the river, which had turned gray-green from its upstream blue-green.
As usual on a river tracing, we couldn’t access the actual mouth of the river, which converges with the Guadalupe just above the large town of Gonzalez. Bothersome, it sits behind private-property fences guarded by herds of curious cattle. Still, the San Marcos is pretty dramatic for such a short river. I can see why it remains so popular, recreationally, although far less developed than the upper Guadalupe. And for good reason. The floods, ladies and gentlemen, the floods.
We chanced a turn on the Old Bastrop Highway just outside San Marcos, which led to a one-lane bridge over the river. Here we found two historical markers announcing that the high banks above the San Marcos River served as the first location of the city by that name. A group of 50 Spanish or so colonists had settled the spot in 1807, but they were promptly flooded out — a persistent theme along these Hill Country streams — and so they moved upriver.
We continued, then, along the north bank to authentically quaint Martindale, whose one-block commercial district has served more than once as a movie backdrop. We explored the strangely located Martindale cemetery — right above the river — finding tombstones that reached back to earliest days of Anglo colonization. A faint whiff of New England settled on the grounds. They knew how to soften death for the living back then.
By chance, we hooked down a narrow, gravel road down to a low water crossing, only to stare up at a large dam attached to a massive, brick cotton gin. Fishermen dotted the shore, despite the trespassing signs. The survival of these dams through flood season after flood season amazes me.
We crisscrossed the river through several other minute burgs, including Prairie Lea — a “lea” is a meadow, something that comes up in art history — until we reached Luling, approximately half way down the river. Here we stopped for barbecue, first at the famous Luling City Market, with its butcher paper, simple menu and, to a stranger without a guide, complicated ordering pattern. Wished I were back on the uncomplicated, fast-flowing river.
The place was packed so we repaired to Luling Bar-B-Q across the highway and its more helpful signs and staff (“You’ll want a drink with that,” said the counter goddess after I ordered jalepeÑo sausages on a bun). A brief downpour chased us across the railroad access to our car.
Luling maintaines one of those lovely, old-fashioned river parks — like Seguin, Gonzalez and Victoria — also home to spectacular dam and mill complex. A flood-watch tower sits by the river with a frightening 38-foot marker. I would be so, so far away from any river at 38-foot flood tide.
We had intended to trace the relatively short San Marcos River a month ago when we visited the Texas Rivers Institute on the Texas State University-San Marcos campus. My severe leg problems intervened, yet what we learned that day on bountiful Spring Lake at the old Aquarena Springs site intrigued us.
It was easy enough to retrace our steps, this time, to the broad parking lot that served the former amusement park. We dawdled in the gift shop, disappointed that the map of Texas river basins was not for sale, and, oustide, examined the glass-bottom boats, now sadly quiet, and the strange old fairground buildings.
Then we walked as much of the lake shore as possible, watching the novice scuba divers, noting the relics from the amusement-park days — such as the elaborate, organically shaped funicular base — taking the wetlands trail around the slough, spotting a green heron and an Eastern phoebe. Someday, this will all become a nature education center. Someday.
By car, we crossed to below the dam that impounds Spring Lake, and the little industrial complex that became a series of restaurants — now Salt Grass — and the thick vegetation under a hidden second dam.
Later, we were to realize this was just the beginning of a series of bigger impoundments and weirs on the San Marcos, since the swift, steady flow of water attracted mills and cotton gins during the 19th century, just as the Piedmont line did on the East Coast.
Below the mill pond we traced a few miles of university and city parks, created over the years and therefore varied in their styles and functions. Here, the river is unsettlingly tame, perfect for tubers, or, on this overcast April day, kayakers. Efforts have been made recently to “free up” the San Marcos a bit here and there, but decades of human improvements leave it unavoidably unnatural to modern sensibilities.
Last year, I longed to linger at the Umlauf Garden Party, but previous commitments forced me to abandon the fundraiser too early in the evening.
On April 23, I hope to tarry in the leafy nook above Barton Springs where Charles Umlauf sculptures punctuate the landscape. (No, I won’t examine them closely for Farrah Fawcett resemblances, despite ongoing claims she served as a major muse.)
One thing that distinguishes this garden party is the display of celebrity pots and seeds, sold to benefit the Umlauf Sculpture Garden and Museum.
Among the donors who have decorated garden containers, then filled them with goodies or plants, are some likely types: eclectic KUT personality John Aielli, maternal singer Sara Hickman and Anita Perry spokeswoman and former American-Statesman style writer Melanie Spencer — as well as first lady Perry herself.
Other announced pot-planners might raise eyebrows: Longhorns football coach Mack Brown, Texas Monthly political writer Paul Burka and beverage king and kingmaker Lowell Lebermann, for instance.
But there I go again, stereotyping. Perhaps these guy-guys are the tenderest of gardeners.
Social columnists are loath to admit that they’ve been shut out of one of the biggest social stories of the season.
Yet we can discover virtually nil about Andy Roddick and Brooklyn Decker’s wedding, which most sources say will take place at his Austin home this week.
Roddick is definitely skipping the Monte Carlo tournament, so this would be the ideal time. If they are planning an outdoor ceremony, one hopes the weather remains clement. Rain threatens over the weekend, but hey, that could be any spring weekend. The couple has shown tremendous resources in avoiding the paparazzi so far, so that may explain why this local reporter has not been given any details.
We can guess from past connections that Elton John will appear.
I know some of you must be invited, so do a guy a favor …
Last week in this space, I nominated “Open City” as Austin’s new slogan.
My suggestion coincided with the partial shut-down of Highland Mall and Flamingo Cantina for the Texas Relays, suggesting that Austin deserved the less-congratulatory nickname “Closed City.”
That column, which traced the rocky history of the city’s slogans, elicited a stream of responses, some illuminating, others corrective.
Barbara Provine, born here in 1938, remembers from her youth, the catchphrase “Austin, The Friendly City.” That anticipated my nomination by decades, except that, like “River City,” it was shared with thousands of other municipalities. Also, an aggressive use of the term “friendly” can, in some parts of the country, translate as: “Welcome! Have a great time while you’re here. Don’t overstay. But if you do, don’t expect to change anything. We like it the way it is.”
Tim McClure, co-founder of ad agency GSD&M and the “M” of the abbreviation, reminded me that billboards a few years back did not read “Idea City,” but rather “City of Ideas.” McClure had coined that slogan, which then-Mayor Kirk Watson admired, but tabled rather than adopting it. The original idea man applied for a trademark and has retained the “City of Ideas” URL.
“Several cities and several companies have attempted to buy or license both over the years,” McClure says, “but I remain confident that Austin will ultimately, well, get the idea!”
I actually prefer “Idea City,” which became the name of the advertising company’s West Sixth Street headquarters. Shorter and spikier.
Amateur etymologist Barry Popik corrected our playful suggestion that a French traveler once suggested that Austin be called “City of 12,000 Mounds.” He dug up the original reference, which had eluded me for years.
He writes: “In 1843, William Bollaert (an English traveler) wrote that just as Rome has her ‘seven hills,’ Austin may boast of her ‘thousand mounds.’ ”
Excellent literary spelunking and more reasonable arithmetic.
Popik is under the false impression, however, that: “… it’s illegal to get anything I say published in the Statesman.” So we are even.
An unidentified caller remarked on my skeptical reference to O. Henry’s atmospheric observation about “The City of the Violet Crown.”
“You see it every time you drive into the city,” the caller insisted.
“Really?” I responded.
“Yes, every single time, when you’re just a few miles out from Austin,” he confirmed.
Nelda J. Lyons, another Austin native, wrote a long, thoughtful note that stroked her youthful associations.
“Austin isn’t a slogan,” Lyons writes. “The attraction to Austin has more to do with its ‘violet crown’ landscape which, before the buildings grew, was visible from my hilltop house off Woodland Avenue at dusk. It has to do with the touch of Hill Country and winding waterways of lakes, rivers and streams and trees that line our highways and roadways. Austin was always the freedom-loving, jovial and welcoming city but since it has seen a volcanic growth, it only seems to have abandoned its former loving ways.”
As I’ve written before, I cherish equally Old and New Austin. And, despite the Texas Relays mess, Nelda, I don’t think we’ve lost our loving ways.
As food writer Mike Sutter has noted, Blu, the tiny corner spot in the 360 Tower, comes with three personalities, one each for breakfast, lunch and supper.
We munched on flat, prociutto-laden pizza and warm, tangy bruschetta, all post-social Saturday evening. I’m not a pino grigio fan, but the Santa Margherita split delivered more character than most PG. The shiny white disco feel of the cafe would be at home in Buenos Aires, Ibiza or Prague.
Tarried with music entrepreneur Greg Vendetti (pictured) — he’s got a million ideas to promote musical community — at the new location for El Sol y La Luna in the Emos complex at East Sixth and Red River streets.
Less funky, more urbane, this spacious, blue and gold room is particularly welcoming for lunch. With a well-drilled staff, El Sol is more grown up — and my grilled catfish enchiladas were ambrosial.
Zocalo has taken over the light-washed space on West Lynn that most recently hosted an ill-fated vegetarian Indian outlet. The counter-service Mexican food is a smart match to the location, as I learned meeting L Style G Style business guru Oliver Everette for lunchables.
My crisp jicama salad whetted my appetite for the tiny, crisp mahi mahi tacos. I drizzled them with the beatific herb sauce. And I smiled.
A certain city built on high tech hosts no major technology museum or teaching center.
Torvald Hessel, Jessica Lockhart, Will Mills
That does not compute. During the past decade, Austin has spent more than $300 million on arts and humanities centers (Long Center, Blanton Museum, Bullock Texas History Museum, MACC, etc.), but not a dime on a comparable science and technology amenities.
Steve Rung, Russ Finney, Teresa Finney, Richard Garriott
Austin Planetarium wants to change that. Like some many enthusiastic groups before it, the Planetarium demonstrates the right gray-matter stuff without much of the necessary green stuff.
Adam Schlender, John P. Funk
Now the Planetarium has earned the backing of Richard Garriott, the ever-imaginative Austin computer games inventor who recently traveled to outer space. Garriott promised to match all the contributions made during a party for the Planetarium at The Belmont on Saturday.
Zhena Rock, Alexander Kouznetsov, Sergey Vashchenko aka Flying Balalaika Brothers
The backers also benefit from the energy and determination of Torvald Hessel, a University of Texas systems analyst and Austin Community College astronomy professor who is now executive director of the Planetarium. (He’s such a dyed-in-the-wool science guy, he apparently didn’t know he shared a first name with Nora’s husband in Henrick Ibsen’s classic drama, “A Doll’s House.” Somebody needs to read C.P. Snow’s lecture, “The Two Cultures.” Come to think of it, I should re-read it.)
Shannon McCombs, Andrew Horwitz
Other than Garriott, there are no big names associated with the project, but the backers are aiming at a prime location (to be revealed) and have worked out a sensible construction budget (given how an ongoing recession can depress costs).
Natalia Ovcharenko, Oksana Chernyuk
Incidentally, the Russian regalia and music was in honor of Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space. This was no dress-up folk show, but actual Russians delighted to share their culture with Austinites. I wondered what Texans would do at a John Glenn party over there.
“Mister Z Loves Company” is one of those shows that defines contemporary Austin theater. It’s outrageously creative. It’s also, plain and simple, outrageous.
Loli Kantor, Tammy Kantor
In fact, parts of it are designed to offend, patently. Yet forewarned audiences secure in their tastes are bound to be mesmerized by parts of it, tickled by other parts.
Dustin L. Struhall, Julianna E. Wright
It’s the love child of Rubber Repertory, which is basically the vaudevillian team of tall, thin, reddish Josh Meyer and short, cut, limber Matt Hislope, along with artistic conspirators.
Tyler Jones, Amy Lewis
To describe it is to rob “Mister Z” of its immediacy. Yet one must share a little. The central couple are the boys in nearly identical masks that make them look a little like a despoiled Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Tamara Mico Jones, Howard Hughs III, Lea Stunning McCauly
They interact, let us just say vividly, mostly on the subjects of sex, loneliness and socializing. They are backed by a chorus of bacchants dressed loosely as French maids.
The Sphinx, Ernie Boden
Anyway, RR has revived this show from their early days — meaning six or so years ago — at the Vortex. It fits neatly into the host Bonnie Cullum’s vision of ritual, spectacle and sexuality.
Alana Maclas, Heather Barfield
Cullum was quite proud of her new deck, which is a beauty. The Vortex is a handmade theater, built essentially from a shed, not even a warehouse. And each step of the way, Cullum and crew have created amenities that make the Vortex a place to gather and linger.
Erin Haggerty, Collin De Lamar
I’m enormously proud of Cullum. We went to graduate school together in the 1980s and socialized easily then. During my years as arts critic, we naturally developed more of a professional distance.
Paul Soileau, Carlos Treviño
Now, it’s so liberating just to kick back on her new deck and treat her as a person, not potential object of formal review.
Amy Bell, Harrison Witt
Back to RR a bit. Meyer and Hislope have miraculously kept not only the look from six years ago, they maintain that energy and sense of wonder that fueled the original “Mister Z.” and softened the routines that, even now, make me a little queasy.
The HBO movie takes an unabashedly feminist angle on the story. As Big and Little, Lange and Barrymore go adrift at the moorings and their descent into reclusive aberration makes a lot of sense, psychologically. It helps that the stars enunciate the Beale’s rarified accents dead right and, with the aid of make-up, they credibly play mother and daughter over the course of 30 years.
It also benefits from views of the estate at various stages of glory and decline. This includes the mountains of filth that, before the documentary was made, had been cleaned out by municipal authorities, and structural failings, which Jacqueline Onassis and Lee Radizwill paid to stabilize. In the movie, we see the sprawling foulness only through newspaper clippings.
The 2009 drama shows the jazzy Manhattan that Little Edie briefly conquers. We are introduced the married man (Daniel Baldwin, looking deceptively like his brother, Alec), who becomes another of her romantic disappointments. Ken Howard earned the thankless role of stuffy Phelan Beale, a one-note character that appears almost sexist in reverse.
As in the documentary, all eyes zero on the two women. Jessica Lange has played fragile, misunderstood eccentrics before, and has won major awards for those performance, but Drew Barrymore stretched her acting muscles to play Little Edie. The only thing missing from her complex portrayal was the real woman’s overtly sexual come-ons during the documentary’s making, especially toward “The Marble Faun,” a comely gardener, absent in the HBO drama.
Did we need this movie? Perhaps not. Maybe the ineradicable images from the 1975 documentary would have sufficed for all time.
Yet director and co-writer Michael Sucsy and his team have made a convincing case that the Beales’ story is the stuff of enduring drama, worth retelling in more than one medium.
Little Edie rebels and heads off to New York City at the end of the first act, but we know she’ll return. Her mother’s blocking actions are supposedly protective, yet the subterfuge foreshadows of the future invalid’s cruel frankness with her daughter. Confusing the audience’s sympathies further, 1941 Big Edie and later Little Edie were played by the same astonishing actor, Christine Ebersole.
For its part, the HBO movie absolves the mother of specific villainy for daughter’s breakdowns. Blame is shifted instead to Phelan Beale, Edith’s husband, for staunching both women’s artistic impulses, and for insisting that Edie marry into that odd American aristocracy that includes future global figures, Jacqueline and Lee Bouvier, Edie’s near-contemporaries and cousins. Phelan Beale and, later, his sons make what they think are perfectly sensible demands on the pair of nonconformist women, but they all the men, including Big Edie’s sexually ambiguous pianist and buddy, come off as beastly.
Yet more than 30 years after the documentary was filmed, along came a Broadway musical by the same name, successfully imagining a key, earlier sequence in the Beale family history, then luring audiences back into the 1970s world of the Maysles film. (Two non-musical stage adaptations also briefly appeared.)
Despite a score that wavered between opera and music hall, it ran ahealthy 308 performances and won multiple Tony Awards, including honors for actresses Christine Ebersole (pictured) and Mary Louise Wilson, who uncannily impersonated Little and Big Edie respectively.
Now, here comes an HBO drama, set to air 7 p.m. Saturday, that traces the entire Beale story through a seamless web of flashbacks and flashforwards. Two admired actors who have enjoyed their shares of offbeat roles, Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore, portray Edith and Little Edie at various ages and degrees of detachment with the world around them.
And there’s every chance this version could be considered a minor masterpiece in its own right.
Some stories resist translation. They unspool effortlessly in one medium, then snarl fiendishly in another.
Cult film classic “Grey Gardens” could have been one of those untranslatable stories. The 1975 movie, recording an eccentric mother and daughter cloistered in squalor, closely matched the calm, unblinking medium of documentary-makers Albert and David Maysles.
How else to treat aristocratic Edith (“Big Edie”) and Edith (“Little Edie”) Bouvier Beale — relatives of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis — who had withdrawn to their weed-throttled, cat-infested East Hamptons estate, virtually penniless, but unwilling to leave their home?
After all, the invalid would-be singer and erratic would-be dancer (pictured) had lost touch with what most people would consider reality. The elder Beale rarely moved from her sickbed, controlling her adult daughter through alternating affection and verbal laceration; the younger pranced around in swaddled fabric, flirting with any available man and whispering to the camera as if she were starring in a Hollywood movie.
To portray these peculiar women with anything other than aesthetically distancing documentary dryness might appear disrespectful, like making a ballet out of photographer Diane Arbus’ equally sensitive, but unsettling portraits of mentally challenged children.
As you know by now, Farrah Fawcett is struggling mightily with a rare form of cancer.
Fawcett, of course, forged an iconic presence during the 1970s through a peek-a-boo pin-up poster and a shimmering presence on “Charlie’s Angels.” She later established a career as a serious actress, but was trashed in the tabloids for a string of family troubles.
What newcomers to Austin might not know is that Fawcett maintained a periodic relationship with Austin.
The Corpus Christi native attended the University of Texas, where she was the subject of intense attention, aesthetic and otherwise. She returned to town where she maintained various friendships and was the subject of an eye-opening Texas Monthly cover story.
We’re interested in Fawcett’s Austin years and are gathering anecdotes for a respectful article (I emphasize that adjective for obvious reasons).
If you care to share, please e-mail me at mbarnes@statesman.com.
We’ve seen some landslides during a year and a half of A-List votes. But this one is all the more astonishing because the winner defeated so many competitors with so many fiercely loyal fans.
DJ Dallas won the title Best Club DJ fair and square with 70 percent of the vote. Nobody else even came close. I’m fairly sure he is also known as DJ Dallas Downs, and he’s at Rain on Thursdays and Fridays.
The next five aspirants to the throne clumped around the 3 to 5 percent mark — DJ Mel (5 percent), DJ Manny (4 percent, DJ Kurupt (3.5 percent), DJ Chicken George (3 pecent) and Seth Cooper.
Spinning less than 2 percent were Toddy B, Car Stero Wars, DJ Orion, Boba Fett, Waxploitation DJs, DJ Bang, Rapid Ric, Prince Klassen, Mike Swing, Syko, Big Face, DJ Hobo, DJ Aquaman Chill, Holland Hart, DJ Hella Yella and Stay Gold.
I personally know the work of about half of these DJs. If the others sent me some samples…
Enchanted Rock is enchanting. We got it. No questions. No arguments.
But, wow, the basalt dome’s fans aren’t rock climbing or camping 24 hours a day. They are alert to online contests. The ancient gathering place north of Fredericksburg has won another: Your A-List Best Place to Hike with 30 percent of the vote. No doubt about it, the state park does offer varied hiking experiences — straight up, sideways, or around the crinkled base of the near-monolith.
Comparatively urban Barton Creek Greenbelt came in second with 26 percent, while Pedernales Falls State Park — splitting the distance between the two — took third with 9 percent. Hamilton Pool, which is more about swimming, jumping and lounging, snapped up 6 percent and lady Bird Lake trails wasn’t far behind with 5 percent.
Inks Lake State Park, which isn’t on the agenda of newer Austinites, but is a wonderful, older park, nabbed 4 percent, as did spectacular McKinney Falls State Park and education-minded McKinney Roughs Nature Area. Piney Bastrop State Park and Brushy Creek Lake Park settled on 3 percent.
Taking 2 percent or less were Bull Creek Park, Wild Basin Preserve, Longhorn Cavern State Park, Pease Park, Blunn Creek Preserve (talk about a forgotten treasure!), Balcones State Park and Boggy Creek Greenbelt.
Pull on those hiking boots! Your columnist is almost healed.
Any comparison between the first Texas Medal of Arts ceremony 10 years ago and the one Tuesday night at the Long Center would be unfair.
Dana Douglass Swann, Janet Stein
That is, unfair to organizers of the first one, because compared to that diesel train wreck, this one was like the Kennedy Center Honors played to Texas swing.
David Campbell, Alison Campbell
Let’s start with the crowd assembled at dusk on the Long Center Plaza, which has, in my experience, enjoyed nothing less that perfect weather for every gala I’ve attended there.
Galen Wixson, James Dick
Perhaps because former first lady Laura Bush was the marquee awardee — or maybe because they have a lock on statewide offices — the famous folks were mostly Republicans.
Ed Bailey, Debbie Sheffield
We bumped into Gov. Rick Perry, Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst and Speaker Joe Straus. Heard that Comptroller Susan Combs was there, but I didn’t see her (odd, since she towers).
Molly Hubbard, Regan Gammon, Jan Hughes, Elizabeth Arnold
Also prominent were arts patrons from Dallas, Houston, San Antonio and, interestingly, El Paso. It is a statewide honor, after all. That didn’t change the tone of the event, although the hair rose a little higher and the jewels weighed a little heavier.
Andrea Starick, Melinda Thomas, Donna Squyres
The assemblage strolled very slowly to the dinner tent, open to the light breeze. Topic No. 1 was the army of Secret Service and other security forces there, some guests speculating that a Austin-style political protest might erupt around Bush. (That is so over.)
Mary Saucedo, Frank Saucedo
I sat with representatives of CenterPoint Energy — yes, the old HL&P — who had scored a key victory in the Lege that day. (Don’t ask me to explain what I don’t understand.) Everyone else at the table was kind enough to discuss notions of “social giving” with me.
Anthony Haley, Nancy Brazzil, Nelson Nease
The governor then conferred the medals on a dais. All the recipients took the honor pretty seriously, even movie maker Robert Rodriguez, who bounded to the stage with a big grin. Something about a heavy medal dangling from a multi-colored ribbon makes the TMA look quite serious.
Laurie Watson, Kerry Hall, Steve Hall
Like molasses, the guests then moved inside the Long Center for the public presentations and performances.
Steve Spada, Kathleen Evans
Here’s where comparisons to early medal ceremonies would be rude, since, even with some early glitches, like a sound error for the Kilgore Rangerettes, this year’s went as smooth as the Academy Awards — a mostly good thing.
Clint Black, Ray Benson
Smooth, in other words, but not short. In fact, if you included the champagne and dessert, which I skipped, the whole shebang probably lasted six hours.
Heidi Smith, Marilyn Carter
Clint Black and Betty Buckley sang. She received a standing ovation for “Memory” from “Cats,” which won her a Tony Award. James Dick played the piano opposite Stephanie Chen, one of the Young Masters nurtured by Texas Cultural Trust, which gives out the awards. Mike Judge and Rodriguez goofed around, breaking the dignified tone of the ceremony, thank goodness.
Ron Hall, Janine Turner
And Ray Benson sparked up the slow spots in the show. One dubious choice: Los Lonely Boys for the closer. The audience was already restless and many of them were immune to the musical magic from the Boys.
Doug Dempster, David Lake, Betty Buckley
OK, yes, it was too long for a school night, but I enjoyed almost every minute of it and look forward to the ceremony’s return in two years.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Sweet Media
Austin Client: Sweet Leaf Tea
A classic case of excellent marketing making for weak media relations: Deftly named Sweet Media proposed a story for Austin-grown Sweet Leaf Tea: “Granny goes on tour.” The reference, of course, was to the Sweet Leaf logo lady, and food goliath Nestle investing millions in the local company so it could expand outside niche markets.
Yep, that’s true. Trouble is, our Biz department had already done a banner story on the the Nestle venture. What fresh idea worked for the social columnist? Sweet Media never quite got there during our short class time. But there’s still plenty of time to develop this story online…
My suggestion: Talk about Sweet Leaf’s success as a cocktail mixer promoted through lifestyle marketing in this city. It’s amazing.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Five Media
Austin Client: Eliza Page
Elizabeth Serrato’s Second Street District boutique, Eliza Page, is well known in style circles. So the student group, Five Media, had a problem: How to make Serrato’s story fresh?
Through electronic messages, they emphasized Serrato’s outreach to local jewelry designers. This is a promising pitch, but as of yet, too vague and general. Which designers? And why?
The vague pitch is hardly uncommon. I just received one from an Austin source who has been pushing his ballroom dancing program for what seems like decades, and it’s the same every time: Do a story on us. What story? Let’s be specific.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Pinnacle Media Solutions
Austin Client: Solid Gold
Right away, the women of Pinnacle Media Solutions personalized their pitch for Solid Gold by suggesting that Nick and Nora, our Labs, would love it. Would appear that Solid Gold is a place to purchase goods for your pets
“New dog-friendly boutique, Solid Gold, comes to East Austin. Come in to shop for high-end, organic and fair trade clothing with your dog!” arrived one e-mail from Pinnacle.
Attempts to follow up on the Internet and by phone determined that Solid Gold is in fact a good place to shop for human clothing and accessories, as well as to sample the usual day-spa services. But for pets? Not according to the receptionist or the Web site.
Wonder why I got this pitch so wrong. Maybe Pinnacle can explain.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Music City Media
Austin Client: Austin Java
Austin Java has been breaking ground on the local coffee house scene for years. Now it’s introducing a “green roaster.” The lively gang with Music City Media — see them rocking out above — seemed extremely jazzed about the concept.
Yet they had a hard time telling me what it meant. Somehow, the smoke from the roasting is recycled — or something. I look forward to a more complete explanation later, because anything “green” is worth investigating.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system — and it’s going slower than I though it would. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Omar’s Media Solutions
Client: Greenling
Greenling is an organic food group. It is throwing a soiree at a private home in San Antonio, with selections of Greenling products. The best recipes will go into a planned Greenling Central Texas seasonal cookbook.
Omar’s made the tasting soiree sound inviting. Yet is in San Antonio, way outside my usual beat. Additionally, despite the links to an Web site about the event, I was still unsure after our various correspondence what exactly the promised Greenlings were. (Actually, it’s singular, and Greenling is a an organic delivery service.)
Since it’s an Austin company, I’m cool with reporting on their future events, as long as they are closer to home. Although we travel, most newspaper work has always been local, local, local.
“Open City” came to me while “brainstorming” with Heather McKissick and Bijoy Goswami the other day at Dominican Joe coffee house on Riverside Drive. (I prefer that colloquial term to “spit-balling” or, worse, “blue-skying.”)
My nomination for city slogan starts with an airy vowel, clipped by a crisp consonant, ending after only four syllables.
And it is, so to speak, “open” to numerous interpretations. Austinites are naturally open to change, innovation and difference. Yet they are also congenitally open to preservation, conservation and authenticity.
I like “open” better than the related and widely trafficked “tolerant.” In “The Rise of the Creative Class,” his mash note to Austin and her sister cities, Richard Florida theorized that those thriving centers remained healthy, economically, after the information revolution because they were “tolerant.”
I’ve lost my taste for that word. It sounds condescending, as in “we don’t approve of you, but we can, for the sake of business, tolerate you.” That’s not the Austin I want to live in.
Because of a twisted youth, “Open City” also reminds me of the Roberto Rossellini’s 1945 neo-realist movie “Roma: Città Aperta.” The title translates, of course, to “Rome: Open City.”
The subtitle relates to a wartime option used when a threatened city is abandoned in order to save its landmarks and civilians, as the Germans and Italians opted with Rome, retreating before the Allies in World War II.
I daydream that Austin could be considered an open city in the culture wars. As rural and (mostly) western Texans tangle with urban and (mostly) eastern and central Texans — Rep. Tom Craddick vs. Rep. Joe Straus ; Gov. Rick Perry vs. Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, to use red-only examples — Austin could become the place where a truce allows both sides to lay down their arms to relax, reflect and recreate.
Hey, isn’t that what happens anyway when the Legislature is in session? Even though politically motivated Austin-bashing may erupt, the legislators, aides, lobbyists and state employees take advantage of our physical and cultural amenities. Believe me when I say they do.
Mustachioed former flower salesman and city council member Max Nofziger pushed through “Live Music Capital of the World.”
While the claim stuck, the trademark remains controversial because of the original per-capita-music calculations, and because, as this column has pointed out before, we don’t support a music industry. We support a liquor industry fronted by some very talented, underpaid musicians.
Nofziger’s gift has also inspired hundreds of imitators, such as, for South Austin, “Live Taco Trailer Capital of the World,” and, for downtown, “Live Wine Bar Capital of the World.” (OK, I just made those up.)
A few years back, billboards popped up with the phrase “Idea City” accompanied by a fanciful city skyline.
I liked that — short, sweet, descriptive of Austin’s newly celebrated creative class.
Turns out it was the name of advertising giant GSD&M’s headquarters on West Sixth Street. Austin loses again on the watchword front.
Leadership Austin’s Heather McKissick and Bootstrap’s Austin’s Bijoy Goswami are currently noodling on a clever new city slogan. I’ll let them reveal their brainchild officially in their own good time, but if you want a preview, just Google their names.
As so often with the Internet, all will be revealed.
Austin has suffered through a history of cursed slogans.
More than 100 years ago, short story writer O. Henry introduced “The City of the Violet Crown,” a rather ephemeral catchphrase, based on atmospheric phenomena, not a headdress worn during pagan seasonal rites, as one might guess.
Anybody notice a violet haze over the hills recently? I thought not.
Fifty years earlier, a French traveller suggested something like “City of 12,000 Mounds,” an unflattering reference to Rome’s eternal seven hills.
Actually, I think he meant it as a compliment.
Through most of the 20th Century, Austin made do with “River City,” a
rallying cry it shared with 5,763 other North American burgs, including the fictional location of “The Music Man.”
The name survives through businesses and teams such as River City Aquatics, River City Rangers Soccer Club and River City Donuts.
Really? River City was the best our fore-parents could do? Well, Houston was known as “Bayou City” before it became “Space City.” Not much more concise.
Drat Highland Mall and Flamingo Cantina for ruining my city slogan.
Today, I had planned to nominate “Open City” as Austin’s new sobriquet.
Yet our hometown acted more like “Closed City” after the mall and the club partially shut down during Texas Relays weekend, the city’s premier African American social event, in fear of rowdiness.
At parties all weekend, including some Relays-related ones, hosts and guests expressed concern, outrage or just plain befuddlement over the closings, agreeing with City Manager Marc Ott, who said: “I find this not to be consistent with the way I’ve come to know Austin.”
Certainly not the Austin I encounter, night after night, as your social columnist.
Some activists have called for boycotts. In the case of already beleaguered Highland Mall, that might inadvertently hasten the demise of the largest retail outlet convenient to many African Americans. What would that solve?
And what of the feared rowdiness?
I walked up and down East Sixth Street late Saturday night. It was no different from any other frisky, holiday weekend night, except the skirts appeared a bit shorter and the heels a bit higher.
Sometimes, I break down and do what I want to do. And that often means luxuriating in Austin’s bottomless pool of talent.
Late Saturday night, I caught the CD release party for the Soldier Thread, now among my top Austin bands, at La Zona Rosa. The artists kept apologizing for technical difficulties. Somebody must be an obsessive perfectionist, because this blend of alt and ambient — symphonic in its own right — was just right for me. (Before they took the stage, Pompeii, a longtime crush, proved they still have the stuff.)
Sunday afternoon, I strolled down to Zach Theatre to catch the very last performance of “Shooting Star,” a wise comedy about a former couple stranded in an airport. Austin is supremely lucky to have artists with the goods such as writer/director Steven Dietz, as well as actors Barbara Chisholm and Jamie Goodwin. You knew it was going to be worthwhile, but still … fantastic when they all deliver.
It will startle no one to discover that the city’s liveliest and most polished gala is staged by the city’s liveliest and most polished professional theater.
Jinny Kwan, Tyler January
It had been years since I attended a “Red, Hot and Soul” event for Zach Theatre, long enough ago that the joint was still known as Zachary Scott Theatre Center.
Zach’s fearless leaders Dave Steakley, Elisabeth Challener
What the volunteers and staff — headed by the philanthropist Larry Connelly, who grows younger by the night — accomplished began with the space itself.
Indigo Red, Allison Barr
It was divided into three zones: lobby, silent auction room and dining area. All three became fashion showcases with models either dressed in slightly macabre manner by Stephen Moser and Pink, or done up as characters from musicals (“Sweeney Todd,” “Cats,” etc). Two of those rooms came with runways. (Nothing succeeds like excess.)
All-in-sterling Nina Seely, Frank Seely
The sixth-floor lobby — often cluttered at galas — allowed plenty of mingling room and key watering spots for the 700 guests. The silent auction room was organized by theme and, again, there was plenty of elbow room without it ever seeming empty.
Sharon Tate-alike Patricia Paredes, Robert Brown
The dining area, however, festooned with Copacabana feathers and blinking disco lights, proved the pièce de résistance.
Samantha Walden, Matthew Champion
Tables were spaced far enough apart for good flow, and yet near enough for an across-the-aisle conversation. The music tended loud, but not oppressive. More motivational.
Chris Popov, Annsley Popov
I sat with Maria and Eric Groten, whose serene demeanor never ceases to amaze me (maybe that vanished later during the frenzied disco scene).
Allison Spell, David Ponton
A central platform provided equal visual access to stage, while twin screens projected performers into giants. We heard divas, saw a musical-themed fashion show and witnessed a fast-paced (if overlong) live auction.
Venus Strawn, Mary Herr Tally
At my table was Bill Jones and his wife Johnita. He’s the Vinson & Elkins attorney who’s also chairman of the Texas A&M System board of regents. I’d met him briefly at the Dancing with the Stars event. When asked, he explained the $50 million A&M prescription drug center with conclusive lucidity.
Emily Clay, Linda Wilson
On my other side were Tony Johnson and (briefly) his partner, Zach artistic director Dave Steakley.
Dale Dewey, Karen Landa
I peppered Steakley with questions about musicals I’m surprised he hasn’t staged (“Hairspray,” “Ragtime,” “Chicago”). I liked his answers.
Johnita Jones, Bill Jones
Johnson and I just had fun. And also he was one of the first to storm the dance floor.
Stephen Mallard, Annie Frierson
Not me. It was off for a look-see on Sixth Street, then a couple of bands at La Zona Rosa.
Lorraine Wallace, Chris Wallace
Still, I have to catapult “Red, Hot and Soul” into the Top 10 of annual Austin galas. I’m sure it’s been there for a while, I just didn’t know.
Michael Smothers, Disco King Larry Connelly
And hey, raising $300,000 in this economy ain’t bad either.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system, but by the end of the weekend, they should be launched. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: Voyage
Austin Client: HomeAway
The Pitch: The group calling itself Voyage could not hope for a better client. HomeAway, the vacation rental Web site, is among Austin’s fastest growing companies. Its product is well-designed, useful and associated with good times.
Cleverly, some of the electronic pitches referred to a recent Out & About posting about my heading to Alaska. This personalized the messages, especially delivered via social media. It broke the ice, so to speak.
During the phone and face-to-face pitches, however, Voyage reps offered free or discounted services, something no journalist with integrity could accept. How could they have known? It’s a learning experience. This energetic group will find a way to reconfigure their pitch for a story.
The cause is peerless. The institution demonstrably effective. The supporting evidence is moving in the extreme.
Lara Wendler, Austin City Council Member Mike Martinez
Yet the Adoption Coalition of Texas Gala at the Austin Club seemed a bit out of joint. At 8 p.m., the guests moved from drinks in the foyer area of the main upstairs room to the dinner tables. Yet dinner — even salad, or water — was yet to come. By 9 p.m. some were heading for the door.
Jason Reese, Stacey Reese
Presentations, anecdotes, testimonials, a video took up the next hour as the guests appeared both transfixed by the message, but restless with the staging. (At first, I lingered in the foyer with about one fourth of the guests, then moved around the dining area to take photos and ask questions.)
Catie Beck, Clinton Butler
Coalition director Tracy Eilers runs a tight ship, and nothing would interrupt the presentation, not even an errant video. What she might not have realized is that each part of the program was rhetorically effective on its own. Repetition can turn into overkill.
Bella Guzman, Steve Guzman
State Sen. Steve Ogden was thanked many times for his honorary chairmanship. Ogden admitted that, as a senator, his speech would naturally exceed 10 minutes, and nobody would argue with his smooth, funny, practiced delivery. He spoke touchingly about his adopted son, Chaz, and his wife, Beverly, whom he volunteers to solve the most difficult problems.
(Pregnant with their second!) Crystal Cotti, State Rep. Mark Strama
Yet the emotional highlight of the evening was the appearance by Alice Jones, a Vietnamese American child who spent 16 years in foster homes, but was not adopted, even by her last foster parents. She met Eilers and told her that story, and, at age 36, the computer programmer from Houston was adopted by Kate Held, originally from the Carolinas.
Judge Andy Hathcock, State Rep. Valinda Bolton
Jones and Held told stories you couldn’t imagine even in novels. They were the evening and the message: “There’s never a time in life when you don’t need a family.” Bless them both.
Alice Jones, Kate Held
KVUE and Fox 8 were recognized for running segments on children available for adoption. Eilers, as well as the gala chairwomen, were presented with bouquets. The crowd included several prominent politicians (I met for the first time Mike Martinez’s new bride, Lara Wendler. Mozel to both of them.)
State Sen. Steve Ogden, Beverly Ogden
A quick word about the private Austin Club as a gala venue. It’s tight for a crowd this size. The grandness of the bar/dining area suits some purposes, not others. I, of course, mourn the building’s passing as a theater (Miller Opera House), but you know, it kind of works for events like this. I’d like to see more there.
The fans arrived early. The NFL players a bit later. The Michael Huff Charity Casino at the Gibson Guitar Showroom dovetailed neatly with Texas Relays-related festivities, which means it was just one of many social commitments hosts and guests made on Friday.
Kathy J, Tee Lynee, Comfort Agara, Brandy Broussard, Raquel Raquel
Still, guests were shy about playing the games of chance and skill until former Longhorns Michael Huff and Derrick Johnson sidled up to the tables.
Nicole Durand, Vince Galloway
Both men — Huff alert and fastidious, Johnson tall and quiet — drew the similarly dressed women (associated models travel in flocks to certain parties) and the hip-hop attired young men to the play.
Jennifer Mueller, Gregg Mueller
The music, however, early in the evening was bright jazz. People steered toward hearty food from Renee’s Catering. Others gravitated to the sports photos, signed jerseys and musical instruments that dominated the silent auction.
Karen Viotto, Dan Viotto (austin.com)
I wavered for a bit, wondering if my youngest brother remembered how he idolized Early Campbell in the 1970s. A framed and signed jersey beckoned. And his 50th birthday is not that far off.
Michael Huff, Marques Haynes, DJ Warrior
The NFL players didn’t seem too gregarious early in the evening. Polite when addressed, they tended to seek the margins of the room, as if they’d had their fill of the spotlight.
Dondra Wilson, Derrick Johnson, Cissy Stasio
The early closing of Highland Mall and some Sixth Street clubs during the Relays weekend popped up in several conversations. Everyone seemed baffled. The unwelcoming act just didn’t jibe with the Austin ethos.
Mike Hissey, Rhonda Hissey, Brian Northridge
The revelers didn’t let it dampen their spirits. Non-sports celebrities and ordinary ticket-purchasers mingled easily with the NFL elite, who could have benefited from an ID system. People don’t really look like they do on TV or from Row 73.
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system, but by the end of the weekend, they should be launched. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: All About MEdia
Austin Client: Neighborhood Longhorns.
The Pitch: This group chose a nonprofit client that uses the charisma of UT sports to promote achievement in elementary and middle schools. “Are you a sports fan?” the clever marketers asked. Of course, had they been reading me regularly, they’d know the answer, but a good opener. Then they made an enticing pitch via various media: Interview Mack Brown, Colt McCoy and Quan Cosby during a “Lunch with the Coach” session.
Although I’d just met Cosby for the first time at the Beyond the Lights Celebrity Golf Classic, the chance to chat with Brown and McCoy is rare for a reporter who does not work for the newspaper’s sports department. And they are big names. I jumped at it. Only trouble — the lunch was the previous week, so the pitch missed its target. I hadn’t emphasized enough in the prep time that the subjects had to be entirely factual.
Hey listen, keep trying, guys. Good cause. Good celebrity gets. If you can get them.
Still others will aim out to sea during summertime.
Composer Dan Welcher will sail Penobscot Bay in Maine. Dr. Russell D. Briggs and Julie Ermis Briggs will cool off near the glaciers — while they last — on an Alaskan cruise.
Architect Juan Miró and his business manager/wife Rosa Rivera will take in Japan first, then cruise the Mediterranean (Monaco, Florence, Rome, Naples and Tunis) to celebrate Miró’s parent’s 50th anniversary.
Philanthropists and Mary Ann and Andrew Heller are returning to the windy island of Malta from whence her family hails, and where the couple celebrated their honeymoon.
Europe remains a traditional lure. Business strategic planner Debbie Johnson will wander around Germany, Switzerland, Italy and France in June. “We’re picking up a new car, visiting some friends, hiking in the Cinque Terra, etc,” Johnson says. “Should be a lot nicer weather over there about then!”
Southwestern University professor Rick Roemer will spend the summer in Bulgaria, Austria, Greece and Turkey, grappling with theater and playing tournament tennis. Ballet Austin’s Stephen Mills and partner Brent Hasty will dip into Venice for the Biennale art festival in June, and then on to the Montepellier Dance Festival in France. (Believe me, Venice can turn downright arctic in the summer. Depends on the direction of the wind.)
Actress Sandy Walper and her husband John will tour Ireland and Scotland.
She concludes: “I, for one, will probably come home with some absolutely incoherent attempt at a Celtic/Texas/Gaelic accent.”
Will all these places stay cool? Well, one can pretty much lay money on it: Not as hot as Texas.
Some locals will head to other highlands during the summer. Music backer Nancy Coplin and marketer/arts patron Wendi Kushner are going — separately — to Colorado. Musician Meagan Tubb returns to her parents’ house in Crested Butte, Col. where she fishes for rainbow trout. AustinWoman Magazine’s Mary Anne Connolly will test the dry nights in Marfa and Marathon before heading to an annual Labor Day getaway with friends in Jackson Hole, Wy.
Event producer Celeste and husband Adrian Quesada (he of Grupo Fantasma, etc.) are taking their three-year-old to the uplands of Maui, Haw. for massage, yoga and other relaxation. “The ‘upcountry’ is apparently very different from the rest of Maui,” Celeste Quesada says, “more like a Hawaiian, cowboy, Vermont type of place.”
Others prefer the shore. Financial advisor Lynn Slayton Yeldell is headed to Provincetown, Mass. — part of the annual migration from Texas to a region that includes Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard and the coast of Maine.
Ashley Leitsch from J. Black’s Lounge is joining nine friends for a “girls trip” to always temperate San Diego. They travel together annually, always to a beach location.
Spazio owner Lytle Pressley prefers quiet, cool Pepe’s Hideaway near Manzanillo, on the Pacific side of Mexico. It consists of six thatched roof casitas on stilts embedded in the side of a cliff.
“The owner is a wonderful American who’s lived in many places,” Pressley says. “I’ve been five times. It’s a true vacation, meaning no noise, no pressure to do things unless you want to, and so beautiful.”
Downtown Austin Alliance’s Lacy A. LaBorde will attend a friend’s wedding in Woolacombe, a seaside resort on the coast of North Devon, U.K. It might even turn sweater-chilly there on the Irish Sea.
Other select summer destinations attract hordes of Austinites.
The Chautaugua Institution, a cultural summer camp in upstate New York, is a regular haunt for Fortunate 500 types such as Cathy Bonner, Barbara Vacker and Barbara Miller, as well as visits from Ted Smith and Lee and Tommy Thompson.
“The first year I went Al Gore came as the main speaker to talk on global warming,” says Austin chef Quincy Adams Erickson, another Chautaugua regular. “Last summer I was out jogging and I looked up on a porch, and Sandra Day O’Connor waived and said ‘hi’ to me.”
Santa Fe is a traditional alternative location for smothered-by-heat Austinites, who maintain second homes there. Dr. John Hogg and his partner David Garza sweep their minds free of stress on the high plateaus.
“Something about the clarity of the colors and magic of the area works wonders,” Hogg says. “With a mile and 1/2 less of atmosphere filtering the sun, the colors are brilliant. Even the dirt is more brown. And, at 7,200 feet of elevation, the cool evenings and dry days are a welcome respite in the summer months.”
Hogg hangs with actress Ali McGraw while out there — they share a love of jewelry and dogs. Representing distinguished Central Texas lineage, Matthew Mielcarek and Sarita Kuykendall will join his mother and stepfather, Betty and Marshall Kuykendall, in Santa Fe, too.
If the past is any indication, by May, Austin will be hotter than a concealed pistol. Or, for that matter, a pistol exposed to the sun for 12 hours, then baked in an oven.
Readers know this. That’s why they get out of town. And this summer, despite the economic downturn, or perhaps because travel costs have dipped as well, they are choosing climatically cool, even exotic destinations.
A few travelers will push global limits.
Rebecca Rooney-King and husband, charter airline owner Richard King, are taking their two sons to Kenya and Rwanda, including a journey up the misty Virunga Mountains to see the rare, reclusive mountain gorillas.
Designer Joy Kling and her husband are joining three other Austin couples for the Celebration of the Sun Festival in Peru, where they’ll also hike Machu Picchu for five days.
Social columnist Holly Jackson is going to Mongolia in July for the annual countrywide celebration, the Naadam Festival.
He wanted to help at least one other person with cancer. He has, instead, helped millions. Lance Armstrong started his drive against cancer way back in the 1990s, while he was still under a possible death sentence from the disease and before he won seven Tours de France.
Thursday night, a few dozen invited guests previewed the Lance Armstrong Foundation Headquarters, home for 70 or so staff members on East Sixth Street. “We began as friends and family determined to beat the disease,” Armstrong said. “Now it’s a great organization, efficient and effective with a special place to work.”
NASA astronauts Karen Nyberg, Mark Kelly
Guests, staff and board members milled around the former lumber yard and paper warehouse, which the architects at Lake Flato and The Bommarito Group have turned into a buzzing hive of bright activity (LiveStrong yellow is a contributing color). The primary room is shared among all, with saw-toothed skylights high above the cubicles to let in plenty of light. Smaller rooms that look like packing crates are placed at strategic spots for meetings and such.
Public Strategies’ Mark McKinnon, Annie McKinnon
Incredibly, 95 percent of the original building materials were reused and recycled. A Nike-backed fitness room waits off to the side and a “pit” for mass meetings and meals backs the west wall — itself leading to a patio. WiFi ties everyone together and allows them to migrated around the 30,000 square-foot building. (In the foundation’s previous offices on MoPac, there was no space large enough for the staff to meet, and the employees were separated into three separate suites.)
Foundation Employees Nos. 2 & 3: Liz Kreutz, Renee Nicholas
“Dealing with such a heavy subject, it’s good to have such a light, happy place to work,” said Renee Nicholas, Employee No. 3 at the foundation, and dealing with her own breast cancer challenge now.
Jack Reed, Sally Reed, Foundation President Doug Ulman
I talked with Eric Shanteau, the Austin Olympian who overcame testicular cancer to prepare for the World Games in Rome. (He checked out the competition at the NCAA swimming finals in College Station last week.) I met Bill Gimson the “$3 Billion Man,” who was recruited from the Centers for Disease Control to run the Cancer Prevention and Research Institute of Texas (recall Armstrong’s championing the taxpayer funding proposition).
Becky Treviiño, Philip Chang of the Young Leaders Cancer Council
There was Ramona Treviño, principal of the University of Texas elementary school across the street, and, wearing his jaunty hat, Public Strategies’ Mark McKinnon (he’s on the foundation board). Doug Ulman spoke eloquently — he’s the former Brown University soccer player who went three rounds with cancer, met Armstrong by e-mail, and now is president of the foundation.
UT diversity specialist Martha Oestereich, UT elementary school principal Ramona Treviño
“It’s been a once-of-a-lifetime opportunity to be part of the design and part of the staff teamwork, and to be embedded in the community as we are on East Sixth Street,” Ulman said. “I was always excited to go to work, but now I’m really excited.” The building will open to the public April 21. (According to the foundation’s amazing spokeswoman, Rae Bazzarre, Armstrong discovered the building while on an East Austin bike ride.)
Armstrong’s key players: Mark Higgins, Bill Stapleton
Among the most touching mementoes is a table with five chairs from Z’ Tejas, representing the place where Armstrong first dreamed up LiveStrong with Bill Stapleton, Bart Knaggs, Gary Seghi and John Korioth over lunch. Even the menu is there.
Andy Miller, Dr. Amelie Ramirez, Bill Gimson, head of the Cancer Prevention and Research Institute of Texas
At the evening’s climax, NASA astronauts Karen Nyberg and Mark Kelly presented Armstrong with his yellow jersey they took into space, where it traveled around the Earth 200 times and a distance of 5.8 million miles.
Clayton Christopher, Natasha McRee
Kelly shared a quick anecdote about hearing that he and his family would get to meet the first man on the moon, Neil Armstrong. When he asked his daughter, then 8 or 9, if she was excited, she said, “Yes, I get to meet Lance Armstrong!”
Nick Denby, Eric Shanteau, Olympian
Oh, and how was the comeback competitor doing after his extensive collarbone repair? He looked and sounded as healthy as ever. “I feel like a patient again,” he said. “But it’s going good for those of you who were wondering.”
At the McCombs School of Business, students in Ben Bentzin’s marketing class spend a good chunk of the semester helping out local businesses with recently acquired skills. Banking off that premise, I geared my quickie media-relations workshop for those particular semester-long projects during two of Bentzin’s classes on Thursday.
I’m now tracking several students marketing/media relations groups. It will take a while to enter the reports into the system, but by the end of the weekend, they should be launched. I promise to follow them for at least a month.
As usual, each group of six or more students divided up the tasks of pitching me live — via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, texting, imaging, phone and face-to-face — and I responded honestly as a working journalist.
Student Group: UT ME
Austin Client: Amy’s Ice Cream
Pitches for stories so far: On the surface, it would seem that Amy’s Ice Cream, the longtime Austin institution, would make an easy pitch for media coverage. Fun food. Fun service. Just fun. Yet UT ME ran into a common obstacle with its first tweets, e-mails, etc. — finding a story angle that the media has not already covered.
It was not until the face-to-face pitch that I heard — a saw mimed — a part of the Amy’s experience I didn’t know about: The employment application sketched on a paper bag. Applicants can do with the bag whatever they want — make it into a balloon, whatever. I didn’t know that. Or maybe I just forgot. Next step: Research to see if we’ve covered that particular element in a big way before, and if so, when? UT ME, your move.
Oh no. Drinks will spill. Curses will fly. It’s won’t be pretty. Or maybe the tempest in a tea dance has passed.
As regular readers know, this column generated a volcano of comments, many libelous or just plain hateful, when we reported that Vicci was going gay — again. Supporters and detractors of the new Kiss & Fly club made their feelings plainly felt through the commentary box.
We appreciated the attention, if not the nasty tone of so many notes, some that could not be published.
Now the A-List runs a contest for best dance floor — and Kiss & Fly doesn’t even make the list. In all fairness, it’s probably because the large gay dance club just changed formats. After all, Vicci won the contest cold last year.
Its major competitors, the well-established and always lively Oilcan Harry’s and Rain, took, together, 72 percent of the vote. Oilcan’s, for years the city’s dominant gay club, snapped up 42 percent, while relative newcomer and near neighbor, Rain, pulled in 30 percent. Now that’s a statement.
Storied South Austin dance hall Broken Spoke waltzed away with 7 percent, while legitimately historic Gruene Hall strummed up 5 percent. Salsa-flavored Copa shook up 5 percent and jewel-like Barcelona got down with 3 percent.
Talking 2 percent or less were Prague, Graham Central Station, Midnight Rodeo, Dallas Night Club, Tejano Ranch, Aquarium and Friends.
In addition to being a swell city, Austin is close driving distance from isolated, crystal springs, rare geological formations, light-flecked lakes, quaint, history-sated towns and authentic cultural meccas. (Getting to the edge of town may be tougher these days, with the increased traffic, but once into the country, travel goes smooth.) Maybe that’s why the A-List vote for the area’s top spot for a day trip was so amiably split.
No. 1 on this hit parade was a basalt granite dome that has enticed pilgrims since prehistoric times. Enchanted Rock not only impresses with its pleasing, bald pate, it also attracts climbers and campers to its base and foot-domes. The Rock looked solid with 28 percent of the vote.
Nearby Fredericksburg — a bit of German tidiness and charm nestled in the Hill Country — is, in contrast, a townie experience. One strolls up and down the main avenue, dipping into shops, nipping at snacks, watching people who are watching people. It comes by its 19th-century German/frontier look honestly and earned 17 percent of the tally.
Gruene is just as authentic, even though is core cluster of buildings, retroactively, feels a bit like an amusement park. Nobody cares, not when one of the world’s great old dance halls is the town fulcrum. It seduced 11 percent.
A bit closer in, Hamilton Pool, an exquisite sinkhole when in silt-free condition, sucked in 11 percent, while German-founded, spring-fed New Braunfels, home to the region’s biggest fall fest and plenty of tubing, took 8 percent. Pedernales Falls, which matches splendid rock sluices with hike-happy canyons, drew 6 percent.
Another swimming hole, Krause Springs, trapped 4 percent, just ahead of slender, boat-friendly Lake LBJ with 3 percent. Taking 2 percent or less were small towns from the Hill Country to blackland plains and the cross-timbers — Wimberley, Lockhart, Shiner, Dripping Springs, Brenham, Blanco and Elgin — each with their own allurements.
The Texas Cultural Trust, which hands out the Medal of the Arts, dovetails into Laura Bush’s preference for private philanthropy over taxpayer subsidy. It was founded to provide a steady, private stream of money for the Texas Commission on the Arts, but altered its mission to include hands-on advocacy of arts education.
“We have a very strong history of philanthropy in this state,” she says, pointing out that the state’s museums and libraries were often founded by individuals or, in rural towns, women’s clubs. “And its important for all Americans to have a good arts education, not just for (shared culture), but for the economy.”
Accepting the medal for all the people who work year in-year out at the Texas Book Festival, she’s ready to take a participatory role again in the popular statewide event, which has raised almost $2.5 million for public libraries, especially in rural areas. She’s especially proud of the Reading Rock Stars programs, which introduces name authors to students.
“They can start thinking about growing up to be a writer,” she says. “And they get a book. For some of these students, it’s the first book of their own.”
What of the persistent rumor that she’s shopping for a third home, this one in Austin?
“Well, that’s not true,” she giggles. “We love Austin, but we’ll stay with good friends there, and keep our house in Dallas and our ranch in Crawford.”
Next week, Laura Bush will make the short trip down from Dallas, where her Preston Hollow home is blooming with dogwoods and azaleas. She hopes to jaunt down to Austin often to visit her old Midland friends who have settled here. Also to shop, as she did last week, for the new home.
“I miss Austin,” she repeats more than once with urgency. “I’ll be coming back and forth.”
Austinites remember Laura Bush’s outspoken advocacy for the arts, staging exhibitions at the Texas Capitol, introducing artists to the media, serving as honorary leader for campaigns such as the one for the downtown Austin Museum of Arts (a building project that collapsed twice in her absence).
“There’s something about artistic expression,” she says. “It brings out the best in people and bridges all sorts of gaps.”
She says she has already feasted on the Dallas art scene since her return from Washington D.C., where the National Gallery was just a short walk “right there on the mall.” She recently made public introductions for Zahi Hawass, head of Egyptian antiquities, when the King Tut exhibit opened at the Dallas Museum of Art. He had served as her personal tour guide twice in Egypt.
As our state’s first lady, Laura Bush connected Texas to the rest of nation through the bonds of art and literacy, especially through her signature project, the Texas Book Festival.
As our nation’s first lady, she connected the United States to other countries by the similar means, including the National Book Festival, also by encouraging private arts philanthropy in countries from Rumania to Pakistan.
Now, she’s prepared to connect Texas directly to the international community. At former President George W. Bush’s planned Freedom Institute — which will open before his presidential library is built — Laura Bush intends to amplify her ongoing global work on women’s rights, literacy and disease control.
And Texas culture has been added to the agenda.
‘“I’d partner with other countries to make sure we understand each other,” she says. “And other countries could get clear picture of what our cultural life here is like.”
Bush is among those receiving the Texas Medal of Arts on Tuesday at the Long Center for the Performing Arts. The biennial ceremony, which raises money for the Texas Cultural Trust advocacy group, will recognize the former first lady’s founding role in the Texas Book Festival, but also her reinforcement of the arts, here and abroad.
A victim of timing, the El Rey Barber, Spa & Executive Club closed last night. Not with a whimper, but with a slam bang. A loud crowd — back-slapping, joking and sighing — crammed into the leather-clad lounge to say goodbye.
El Rey rode the last economic boom to its unique position as a members-only men’s club with luxurious pampering and personal service the bywords. A few months ago, it switched gears to offer its services à la carte and to open its quiet, classy lounge to the public, including women.
Although management reported a rise in demand for haircuts, mani-pedis, etc., it was too late. The overhead for its ground-floor spaces in the Plaza Lofts proved too high to sustain the traffic.
We spoke at length with Donaji Lira, who always brightened up El Rey, and to several regulars, like Mitch Jacobson, whose board services have included time with Austin Musical Theatre, One World Theatre and the Long Center for the Performing Arts.
I had planned to meet there with Bernie Siben, Austin’s former piano-bar star, who moved back to town a few months ago. El Rey proved too loud for our conversation, so we strolled down to La Condesa and tarried at the sidewalk seating.
Siben, originally from Brooklyn, tinkled the ivories during the 1970s and ’80s at clubs such as Casablana on 15th Street. He then spent 18 years in Dallas, where his day job allowed performances in that city’s several piano bars. He recently moved back here from Vidalia, Ca.
Now he’s looking for a piano bar to pursue his avocation. Good luck. We talked about the history of local cabaret during the last 20 years and how traditional piano bars — not counting novelty fun like Pete’s or hotel-lobby spots — never seem to take root. We’ll watch Siben to see if he can help make it happen here.
