The unveiling of the statue of the Civil War general.Full Story
Look back more than 100 years at downtown Dallas.Full Story
Back in October, we posted an item in our Ghosts of Dallas series featuring the restoration of 508 Park by the Stewpot of First Presbyterian Church. Today, as you can see above, the project unveiled the re-creation of the mural that originally appeared on the building, which was a Warner Bros. film vault and recording studio way back when.Full Story
Before Thanks-giving Square was there.Full Story
Friends, now that we’ve reached the Year of Our Lord numbering an unseemly 2015, I believe it’s time for us to reflect upon the remarkable progress of mankind. In my considerable opinion the greatest inventions wrought since my death in 1877 are as follows: the moving picture, the aeroplane, the wireless, the Turing machine, and the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street.Full Story
I’ll be honest; I’m hosting a raging New Year’s shindig this eve, and thus I haven’t time to offer my usual dose of wit and wisdom atop this column. Instead, without further ado, another of your requests, submitted via email@example.com.
Question: Why does it seem that all drivers in and around Dallas feel they can text and drive 80 miles an hour in the rain? — Suzanne L.
I gather from the impertinent tone of your query that you don’t consider yourself a Dallasite, that you hold yourself both separate from and superior to the other people of this city. Whether that’s because you didn’t yourself have the privilege of originating from here or merely because you foster disdain for the town, I do not know. Nor do I care.Full Story
When this spot was the scene of a fight for integrated lunch counters.Full Story
Look back nearly 60 years.Full Story
Friends, I must report that my editor and I nearly came to blows this week over the contents of today’s column, which I am officially filing under protest. I badly wished to give his proboscis a good wringing after he required that I supplant the golden prose I had spun for both your entertainment and edification with a tepid pool of my second-best work.
Granted, my second-best work is more satisfying to the mind and the soul than 99.9 percent of the pabulum churned out by other so-called “professional” scribes. That does not change the fact that I must live with the knowledge I have done you a disservice, dear readers. You’ll learn nothing of my extensive knowledge of weaponry or hand-to-hand combat, and all because some yellow-bellied stuffed-shirt down at the D Magazine offices is afraid the company might be charged with inciting a riot or threatening the lives of public officials if we’d run my original, superior text.
Oh, hang it all. Let’s get this nonsense disposed with.Full Story
A peek back more than 100 years.Full Story
A pride parade in downtown Dallas.Full Story
I am of two minds about the forthcoming holiday. On the one hand, it was that lousy crook Abe Lincoln — father of the federal income tax, a progressive income tax — who instituted the Day of Thanks Giving as a late November national mandate instead of letting each state handle its own business like the Good Lord and the Founders intended. Maybe Texans don’t like being limited to a single Thanksgiving each year. Maybe we’d rather not do it in the fall. Maybe we’d prefer it on some Sunday morning in May when we might celebrate with a light brunch. The federal jackboots force turkey and gravy and stuffing and cranberry sauce down our gullets and call it freedom? No sir. Not on my watch. Not until I’ve at least been given the option of a mimosa with a small plate of cantaloupe on the side.
On the other hand: pumpkin pie. It’s what the Creator himself eats for dessert.
Now to the business at hand.Full Story
Look back at this hotel 37 years ago.Full Story
I am truly humbled — (Ed.: You mean “honored” (I damn well know what I mean — JNB)) — to see the response elicited by my first foray into the dispensing of well-earned opinions, advisories, and judgments onto the World Wide Web. Most of you magnificently performed your duty of piling missives into the inbox at firstname.lastname@example.org, and I shall endeavor to address your queries with all the timeliness of a bow-legged bobcat returning to its native soil during the first moon after the spring equinox to suffer the slow death it deserves for being such an abomination before God.
Some of you, I’m sorry to say, didn’t take my invitation seriously enough. “Boxers or briefs?” What sort of community icon, such that I am, would dare degrade himself by answering such impertinence? And what man in full possession of his faculties wears anything other than boxer-briefs these days?
Onward to more significant inquiries.Full Story
By now you’ve had a chance, obviously, to read all 40 of the greatest stories ever published in the pages of D Magazine. In honor of our 40th anniversary, we revealed them over the course of 39 weeks between February and November. Now it’s time for a little scoreboarding.
Four writers landed two bylines apiece on the list: David Bauer (“The Sexiest Woman in Dallas” and “Akin vs. Dahl”), John Bloom (“Ole Anthony and the God Thing” and “Misty Crest: On the Frontier of the New American Dream”), Mike Shropshire (“Clayton Williams: Texas Crude” and “How Willie Nelson Saved Carl’s Corner — Again”), and Zac Crain (“Charley Pride Turns 70 and — Galdurnit — He’s Still Got Something” and “Love and Loss in a Small Texas Town.”)
So one of those gents has got to be the greatest writer in the history of our humble publication, but we’re not here to debate that. We’re here to ask you to vote on the single-greatest story ever in D. The nominees are listed below. Write-ins accepted in the comments.Full Story