Blue Roads of America: an Englishman in Texas

The state of Texas has a population of 29 million in a territory of 695,662km². The gross product of the Texan economy is US$1.8 trillion. About 11.1 million Texans are classified as Hispanic. This is hardly surprising. Texas was part of Mexico until 1836, when the short-lived Republic of Texas was formed by English-speaking men who had (frequently in breach of Mexican law) already settled in the sparsely populated territory. It is not a harsh, nor unfair, observation to say that, in 21st-century Texas, the Spanish speaking population are second-class citizens, perhaps more accurately third-class, since they tend to occupy the jobs that in other states might be done by majorities that in Texas occupy a rung slightly above Hispanics on the social and economic scale. If my accent ever made me incomprehensible to a waiter in  McDonalds or a chamber maid I could easily make myself understood with my Mexican Spanish.

When I worked for Thames & Hudson, I spent a lot of time in Texas, because it has a very large further and higher education system with enormous enrolments. My textbook, Gateways to Art, made a small fortune in Texas alone.

My strategy in Texas was simple and shameless. No other publisher was represented by an Englishman wearing a suit and tie, with an accent that Texan professors found endlessly fascinating. I received their undivided attention, and they always seemed pleased to see me when I returned with a sales person.

One of my favourite bases was Dallas. Dallas is a big brash city. It merges with Fort Worth and Arlington into the Dallas Forth Worth Metroplex (DFW). My friend Milan Hughston, who was for many years the librarian of the Amon Carter Museum of western art in Fort Worth, recommended to me the Warwick Melrose hotel, in the Oak Lawn district. Oak Lawn is the gay district of Dallas. The clientele of the Melrose was, therefore, a colourful crowd, especially in the bar late in the evening. I discovered that I could have a quiet dinner in the restaurant, and then, in ten minutes, drive to the symphony hall or the opera house, have my car parked by the valet service, and settle in for an evening of music. And then return to the Melrose for an entertaining night cap. I recall once calling the symphony hall to buy a ticket for the Berlioz requiem, a thunderous work involving an orchestra, a huge choir and an organ. I bought a front row seat for $18. Texans, it seems, prefer to pay more to not have to look up at the musicians on stage.

Turtle Creek

The hotel is also a convenient walk to Turtle Creek, an exceedingly wealthy neighbourhood, good for a pleasant stroll after a day on highways. When we published Gateways to Art, a party was held for Debbie Dewitte, as the Texan of the three authors, in the apartment of a lady who was the first female partner of Goldman Sachs. Debbie told me that when she was introduced to the guests she would politely ask “And what do you do?” This question caused great puzzlement, until Debbie realized that these people did not do anything. The real question to ask was “And what do you own?” The answer might be an airline, an oil company, etc.

DFW just loves culture, especially if it affords plenty of opportunity to display wealth at the same time. Luckily for me, art museums fit that bill perfectly. The Meadows Museum, at Southern Methodist University, has an exceptional collection of Spanish Art, from Renaissance to modern masters. There are some wonderful Velázquez, Murillo and Ribera paintings, Goyas, Picassos, Mirós, Juan Gris also. Downtown Dallas has several art museums, but cannot compete with Fort Worth’s glamorous trio: the Amon Carter, the Fort Worth Museum of Modern Art and the Kimbell Art Museum. The Kimbell is a small museum with a simple but extraordinary collection policy. It collects only works that are exquisite examples of their kind.There are no rooms filled with the works of one artist, period, or style, but simply beautifully arranged works that please the eye.

 

The Kimbell Art Museum

Fort Worth Rodeo

This was once cattle country, and Fort Worth still has the stockyards to which cattle barons would have brought their stock for sale. The stockyards are now the location for the annual rodeo. When I was publisher of The Dictionary Art (Macmillan, 1996), I attended an Art Library Society North America meeting in Dallas. Milan Hughston organized an outing to the rodeo, where I fear that we librarians and publishers looked a shabby crowd. Texans turn out for the rodeo in their expensive cowboy boots, designer jeans and Stetsons. The young women had big hairdos and figure-hugging jeans. We all stood for the national anthem, and then settled down for the competitions. Alas, the finer points of bronco-busting, steer-riding and lassoing were lost on me, but the events were entertaining and I did plenty of people-watching. One unfortunate steer rider was gored in the thigh.

 

Fort Worth Rodeo

The Rachofsky House

Another exhibition space in Dallas is the Rachofsky House (1991-1996), designed for a wealthy bachelor by Richard Meier. The interior of the house is mostly open plan: from any one vantage point you can see almost all the spaces in the house, with the necessary exceptions of the bathrooms and the bedrooms. It seems that when Mr Rachofksy married, the new Mrs Rachofsky disliked this lack of private place, so he had another home built and turned his bachelor pad into a space to display art. I paid a memorable visit to the house with the three authors of Gateways to Art, Debbie Dewitte, Ralph Larmann and Kathryn Shields.

 

Rachofsky House interior: the Minimalist sculpture on the left is a Donald Judd piece

Just in case you think I spent all of my time, in symphony halls and art museums, I did go to many less glamorous places for purely business reasons. One frequent destination was Paris, Texas, because it has a community college with a large art department, which at that time was run by a painter, Cathie Tyler. Cathie and I got on well and visits were always a pleasure. Paris also has an Eiffel Tower, built by the local metal workers’ union. It is 65 feet tall and, being in Texas, a red Stetson sits on top.

 

Paris, Texas, Eiffel Tower

Cathie was President of the Texas Association of Schools of Art. She invited Debbie and me to give a talk at the association’s meeting in Abilene. The conference hotel served free margaritas between 5pm and 6pm. As Debbie and I sipped our first margarita, we noticed a large stone on which the Ten Commandments had been carved. Debbie wondered whether it was proper to be drinking in front of the Commandments, but I assured her that Thou shalt not drink was not one of them. After a day or two, I noticed that I had not seen a single bus as we moved around the town. Abilene occupies 290km², but has no public transport. In Abilene it’s the car or else. There are three universities (we visited their  art departments): Abilene Christian University (Churches of Christ), Hardin-Simmons University (Baptist) and McMurry University (Methodist). Art education poses some challenges in faith-based universities, not least of which is how to conduct life drawing classes. Solution: the models wear swimsuits.

Debbie and I did not do any life drawing, but we did, collaboratively, make our first sculpture. We were given two blocks, which we were to carve and then join together to make a mould for an iron pour. Debbie carved one side and I the other, so our sculpture had an author’s side and a publisher’s side, or as Debbie’s daughter saw it a Mummy side and an Ian side. We discovered that our sculptural talents were limited, but were excited, nevertheless, to break the mould when the metal had cooled.

The conference outing in Abilene was to the Old Jail Art Center in Albany. The town’s stone jail building, complete with iron bars on the windows, has been expanded to house the best art collection for many a mile. Fort Worth is 140 miles, Austin over 200, and El Paso almost 500. Here the collection policy seems to have been to acquire works by artists’ with high name recognition: Rembrandt, Picasso etc. But, whereas the Kimble, would have a Rembrandt only if it were outstanding, the Old Jail simply must have the Rembrandt it can get. Nevertheless, for  a town of little more than 2,000 people, the collection is remarkable. I asked the museum’s director how they managed to acquire works by such famous artists. She suggested I visit the local airport to see how many private jets are parked there. She explained that the people who own the jets give the museum its money and they want to see big names in their town museum.

The Sweetwater rattlesnake roundup

That evening I chatted with an Abilene professor who lived in Sweetwater, about 40 miles to the west, and home to the world’s largest rattlesnake roundup, in March every year (yes, even in March 2020). According to the roundup website, in 2019 the total weight of snakes caught was 4,195 pounds, of which the champions, Andy’s Pest Troopers, scored 1,015 pounds. The winner of longest snake was Eric Timaeus, who also won in 2018 and 2016. In that last year his snake was 75^1/2 inches (the record is 81 inches).

 

Keeping the rattlesnake score

The Smokestack Restaurant, Thurber, Texas

On our way home from Abilene to DFW, Debbie and I stopped for lunch in Thurber, a former coal mining town, that from 1881 to 1921 had a population over 10,000. Thurber’s coal fuelled the locomotives of the Texas and Pacific Railway until oil-fuelled locomotives were introduced in the 1920s. In 2010 the population was 48. Over lunch in the Smokestack restaurant we met a prison guard, who told us that one of his duties was to accompany psychologists who tested whether prisoners were insane. He claimed to have observed the tricks prisoners used to dupe the psychologist. He claimed once to have had a girlfriend who was a psychologist and to have persuaded her that he was criminally insane.

Texas really is not like any other state in the USA. One of the curious facts I learned about Dallas, for example, was that it has one of the highest arrest rates for driving under the influence in the USA. A possible reason is that planning regulations require all bars to have a minimum number of parking spaces.