OUT & ABOUT

Time to savor all that makes Austin beloved

By Michael Barnes
AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Thanksgiving united family and close friends. Now, post-feast, let us give thanks for the blessings, some enduring, some ephemeral, of Austin's social scene.

For all that is new and good in Austin.

For the soaring condos, apartments and lofts downtown that combat sprawl, enhance social culture and contribute to the richness of street life below.

For the ambitious restaurants that have transformed Austin from a culinary backwater of (admittedly indispensable) barbecue and Tex-Mex into a foodie mecca in just 20 years.

For the myriad improvements to East Austin, or at least the ones that don't displace indigenous cultures, that have charged sidewalks and gathering places with an unprecedented buzz. And for all the other neighborhoods that have preserved the best of their physical and social environments, while recognizing the incontrovertible benefits of change.

For the pockets of intense culture that pop up in central Georgetown, Lockhart, San Marcos, Marble Falls, Fredericksburg and elsewhere across Central Texas.

For the boutiques, eateries and street vendors that make shopping — and walking — so cool along South Congress Avenue, Second Street, the Market District and the Drag. (Selfishly, also for the menswear scattered among the stylish treasures usually reserved for women.)

For the taco stands and other purveyors of comfort food along South First Street, South Lamar and North Lamar boulevards, East Seventh and East Cesar Chavez streets. And for the seafood section at the MT Oriental Market in the Chinatown Center.

For the seven sisters of higher education that join hands to train Central Texas' creative classes. And for the more than 100 coffeehouses that serve as backup offices and libraries for Central Texas students and workers. Especially for the espresso-based drinks at Java Dive in Lakeway, Mozart's, Pacha and (more consistently) JP's Java.

For the intimate and perfectly tuned music halls, such as Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos, the Parish, Saxon Pub, Momo's, Beerland and the now beleaguered One World Theatre.

For the faces that light up party after party, such as charity circuit regulars Forrest Preece and Linda Ball, Jack and Carla McDonald, John and Julie Thornton, Ray Benson, Bob Cole, Mary Margaret Farabee, Eddie Safady, Bettie Naylor and Libby Sykora, Evan Smith, Anne Elizabeth Wynn, Rosa Rivera and Juan Miró.

For the spreaders of good words by profession, such as publicists Kevin Smothers, Jeff Salzgeber, Adrienne Dealy, Robert Nash and Karen Frost. One of them even taxied a stranded reporter to and from a key event two weeks ago. That's dedication.

For the philanthropists who endow the region with, among other things, the Dell Children's Medical Center of Central Texas, Long Center for the Performing Arts and Blanton Museum of Art.

For the Longhorns. And for the absence of major league sports, which suck the life out of many civic cultures. Sports fans don't know how good they have it here with just hardworking collegians and minor leaguers, and no franchise owners blackmailing taxpayers into billion-dollar subsidies.

For politicians such as City Council Members Mike Martinez and Betty Dunkerley, who take on less-than-glamorous projects, like the current campaign against billboards, the No. 1 eye pollution in Texas. The late Lady Bird Johnsonwould be proud.

For the club owners who have opened such innovative spots as the Belmont, Qua, Imperia and Pangaea, to complement what already was on the ground. From what this observer has seen, there's plenty of party to go around. (See the 300 or so clubs and bars listed in the XL cover story planned for next month.)

For the arts managers from all over the country who have turned Austin's creative yet amateur scene into a professional dynamo since the mid-1980s.

For the Alamo Drafthouse, not just for the special events, Fat Tire ale and fried pickles, but for championing fantastic movies that might otherwise fall by the wayside.

For the Arbor and Dobie theaters for their competitive exhibition of arthouse movies; Tinseltown South and the Metropolitan for their empty, and therefore quiet auditoriums for blockbusters. (OK, a dubious honor.)

For the hike-and-bike trail along Lady Bird Lake — Austin's de facto town square, and its egalitarian acceptance of any fitness profile.

For the sometimes rugged, sometimes remote leash-free trails at Turkey Creek, Bull Creek, Red Bud Isle and Walnut Creek, where dog lovers roam free, too.

For alternative meeting places, such as the Capitol grounds, the doughnut-shaped hallways of the Erwin Center and the suddenly essential lunch spots along East 11th Street and Manor Road.

For the comparatively cool 2007 summer, which painted every Central Texas gardener a green thumb.

For the newly full lakes, and for those who give others space and peace while using them.

For the Hill Country, which no amount of development can rend asunder. And for the wineries that lure city folk out into the rolling, sun-drenched fields.

Most of all, for Austinites and the way they treat one another. That's what defines our town.

Not the green hills or sparkling water, not the research universities or high-tech industries, not the progressive politics or activism, not the hyperactive music, movies or arts industries, not the traditional or modern buildings, not the ancient beer haunts or the sophisticated nightclubs.

A city is made of people. Whenever I hear someone say, "that's not Austin," I'm skeptical. How can a place or an activity not reflect the culture of its people, especially in a city with such a singular and imperishable sense of identity?

Tourists visit Austin in order to share in activities Austinites pursue every day, not to check some artificial destination off a lifetime list. (Sorry, San Antonio.) People move to Austin to live among Austinites, not just to make money or to share in some imaginary high life. (Sorry, Dallas and Houston.)

Those Austinites already in place, despite their cranky moments, are generally open-minded, friendly — but not aggressively so — and accepting of those around them. They cultivate a social scene unlike any other on Earth, making your columnist as comfortable in the lowest dive or highest palace.

That's certainly reason enough to give thanks.

mbarnes@statesman.com; 445-3970