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Losing the press room
It’s the Friday night of an Independence Day weekend and I’m working the cops beat. It’s hot out there still after a 100-degree day, and the crooks have been busy, robbing a check-cashing store owner and an ice cream man.
It’s cool and quiet here in our cavernous newsroom, where I am part of a holiday skeleton crew. But I’m thinking about the ink-stained crew that will be running at full tilt about the time I’m going to bed in a couple of hours. The pressroom will be rolling out hundreds of pages a minute on an enormous three-story machine, producing 35,000 copies of tomorrow’s newspaper — 35,000 precision-crafted, highly perishable products.
The pressroom guys will be history after July 13, when we start having our paper printed in Austin. I will miss them, though I don’t know many of their names. In the 12 years I’ve worked here, I’ve gone to bed every night knowing they’d get the paper out, as sure as my own lungs would continue to pump and my heart would beat. Through power outages and equipment failures and contested presidential elections, they’d get the job done.
Necessary as it may be in these economic times, losing the pressroom feels like an amputation. For more than a century, it’s been the brawny physical side of this newspaper: They turned mere “content,” that is, information, into a physical thing you could clip and roll up and spill coffee on. By the same token, I can tell people I don’t just work at an office: The Trib is also a factory, full of craftsmen who have passed down their trade over generations. What they do looks like magic to me when the spindles are rolling and the papers are flying off the press.
No matter what our digital future may look like, the printing trade will survive in some form. Even horseshoe-making survived the automobile. But losses like this are painful, not only for those who have to find new careers but for the rest of us who have taken pride in our made-in-Waco newspaper.
Working at a newspaper these days is all about keeping hope alive, hope that the public’s desire to be enlightened about their will continue to support those of us who want to write, report and assemble news. That’s what I keep telling myself as I cross off the vacant cubicles on the seating chart like a tic-tac-toe board, and as I imagine half this huge building sitting empty.
Perhaps this crisis in the newspaper industry is only the birth pang of journalism’s nimble and more responsive future. But I’m proud to have been part of journalism’s grubby, ink-stained past. So long, guys.
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Hitchcock (and others) at the Hippodrome
Along with swimming holes, mint juleps and fresh salsa, watching old movies in old movie palaces is one of the primal joys of summer. In my college days I used to catch the likes of Lawrence of Arabia and Casablanca at the Paramount Theater in Austin. Now the Waco Hippodrome is stepping up to the plate with an ice-cold lineup for the summer.
“E.T.”, that icon of the early 1980s, plays tonight at 7:30 p.m; tickets are $5 for adults, $3 for children. Other family movies will follow — “Kung Fu Panda” on June 19 and the “Muppet Movie” on June 26. Nothing wrong with family movies — I was the target audience for “E.T.” and the “Muppet Movie” when they came out. But I’m more excited about the Hippodrome’s creepy Hitchcock lineup.
“Rear Window,” showing at 7:30 p.m. Thursday, kicks off the monthly series from the master of suspense, part of the Third Thursday festivities organized by the Downtown Merchants Association. “To Catch a Thief” is coming in July, followed by my favorite, “Vertigo,” in August.
You can get free tickets for the Hitchcock movies by dining or shopping downtown and saving your receipt. See you there.
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Washington Ave. bridge gets its close-up
In any other Texas town of Waco’s size, the Washington Avenue bridge would be considered postcard-worthy. It’s 108 years old, 450 long and it has the unwieldy distinction of being “the longest and oldest single-span truss bridge still open to traffic in the United States.”
It’s a thing of rugged beauty, but eclipsed by the older and more distinctive Waco Suspension Bridge just a stone’s throw away. So it’s good to see the old iron workhorse getting a $4.8 million makeover with state funds. The crews are stripping it down for repainting, and replacing some joints to ensure it lasts well beyond my lifetime. The bridge will be painted black, its original color, and it will become once again a two-lane bridge.
Even under surgery, it’s eyecatching. The construction contractor has wrapped in a billowy tent as if by the artist Christo. I walked down a couple of times this week with my camera to capture the play of light and shadow on the sheathing. Here are some morning shots:
I shot the following photos Monday evening mostly from the east side of the river. It was a perfect spring day, and the river trail leading to Bledsoe-Miller Park was bustling. It looked like a scene from an artist’s rendering: Families feeding ducks, old and young men fishing with cane poles, and in the distance, lovers leaning over the rail at the Suspension Bridge.
Bethany and I walked over and checked out the cypress tree we planted there as part of our wedding, nearly six months ago. It’s looking fine, sprouting out bright green bristles. It’s part of a line of cypress trees, and hopefully will provide a nice backdrop to future postcards of the restored Washington Avenue bridge.
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Your SWAG or mine?
A real estate broker introduced me some years ago to the concept of the SWAG: A scientific wild@$$ guess. By which he meant, Here’s a plausible prediction, just don’t hold me to it.
When it comes to predicting population growth, we’re all swaggers. Is Waco the next Texas boomtown, or is it likely to plod along for the next few decades? Your swag is as good as mine.
A highly respected planning firm hired for Waco’s 1967 Comprehensive Plan predicted that McLennan County’s population would grow to 215,000 by 1985, with 75 percent living in the city of Waco. We didn’t pass that population threshold until the 21st century, and today nearly half the population of 230,000 lives outside the city. (You can read all about Waco’s plans of yesteryear here).
This week the city council hired a Portland consultant to work with the community to design a “Greater Downtown Waco” that would accommodate 80,000 more people.
According to Greater Waco Chamber of Commerce folks who have done the preliminary work on this, there’s enough vacant land in seven square miles of central city to accommodate that many people, plus 65,000 jobs, at about the density of New Orleans’ French Quarter.
The chamber has set a goal that Greater Downtown should capture half the 160,000 people it projects will be added to McLennan County’s population by 2050.
One online commenter on my story accused the chamber of swagging, saying that such optimistic projections make him inclined to dismiss the whole planning effort as a pipe dream.
To be fair, the chamber folks didn’t pull the number out of thin air. They chose the most aggressive scenario projected by the Texas State Data Center (http://txsdc.utsa.edu) for 2040 and extrapolated out to 2050. The scenario assumes that McLennan County’s growth continues at the pace it did in the 1990s, a pace the state demographer calls unlikely. The “preferred scenario” has Waco adding a mere 54,000 by 2040.
So what’s realistic? Beats the heck out of me. Population projections use complicated algorithms based on a simple fallacy: that historic trends will continue indefinitely.
Assuming that “trends continue,” the third-grader you know will be 10 feet tall in a few years, and every bank in the United States will soon be out of business.
What history does tell us is that long-term growth is unpredictable. Cities can limp along for decades, then explode almost overnight. That growth sometimes continues for decades before hitting a plateau or declining (think Detroit or Buffalo.)
By historical standards, it wouldn’t be surprising for a city of Waco’s size to grow by 70 percent over 40 years.
Fort Worth in 1940 had 177,662 people, comparable to Greater Waco’s population today. In 20 years, Fort Worth’s population doubled, and strong growth has continued. Likewise, Austin was 300,000 residents in 1960; its population doubled in 20 years.
A century ago, cities like Pittsburgh and St. Louis were booming, but in the last 40 years most of the growth has been in “Edge Cities,” i.e. incorporated areas in the orbit of an existing metropolis. For example, Arlington, Texas, is now bigger than St. Louis; Tempe, Ariz., is bigger than Pittsburgh.
But who’s to say that trend will continue? Technology (mainly the automobile and telecommunications) and cheap suburban real estate allowed Edge Cities to flourish. Who’s to say 21st century technologies (high-speed rail, telecommuting, etc) and new attitudes toward cities won’t change the game again?
By the same token Waco’s growth could stagnate in the next 40 years and Texas could become a new Rust Belt, confounding everyone’s official predictions.
But given the bones of our local economy — good transportation routes to Texas’ big cities, a varied manufacturing base, plentiful water supply and a full range of higher education institutions — my SWAG is that Waco’s best years are ahead of it.
I’d like to hear some SWAGs from others: How much growth will Waco see? And how much growth is desirable?
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Decision time for Cameron Park
Talk about a sense of civic ownership. I could hardly find a seat last night at the Waco Regional Tennis Center, so packed was the room with Cameron Park devotees. A hundred or so had turned out to learn about and discuss the “final plans” for the $6.9 million bond-funded renovation.
I’ll be writing about this later this week (we’ve been a bit short on space in the paper this week), but I was impressed with the passion people had for “their” park, whether they were mountain-bikers, walkers, dog lovers, birdwatchers, disc golfers or Cameron Park neighborhood residents.
The crowd was supportive of the planned improvements, but they wanted to get specific: Concrete or crushed granite on the trails? How many parking spaces were really necessary, and where was the water going to drain? How could safety be improved? Could the city add 9-1-1 callboxes along the trails?
The parks staff said they would explore those issues and appeared to be setting up time to meet with some of the citizens. And they said they would try to increase public involvement in the planning process, which was the main concern I heard.
It was a diverse crowd, ethnically and age-wise, but it struck me that the process has really galvanized the under-40 crowd, which is often characterized as civically apathetic.
Jon Pursley, one of the mountainbikers who has been seeking to “tweak” the plan, said Cameron Park was what brought and kept him here. He and other members of the Waco Bicycle Club have helped develop the 15-mile trail system in the rustic area of the park.
I can also say Cameron Park was the selling point for me moving here 11 years ago. Living in Georgetown, I had been accepted for a job at the Trib, but I wasn’t sure about Waco as a home. What I had seen downtown looked mostly seedy, and the Interstate area looked dismal. But when an editor drove me through Cameron Park on a clear autumn day, with the red oaks in full Technicolor and the vines shrouding the road, I was sold.
So many times since then, I have retreated to the limestone cliffs and shady hollows of Cameron Park to clear my mind and get away from the noise of life. I have skinned knees, bent mountainbike wheels and even been sucker-punched once by a stranger (long story I’ll tell another time). But I can’t imagine living in Waco without its green soul.
It didn’t take me long to learn about Cameron Park’s dangerous reputation. Though crime statistics show that reputation is largely undeserved, even some of the park’s champions Monday night complained of seedy activity in the park — sexual activity on the trail, shady characters hanging around in parked cars, vandalism of buildings, etc.
The reality is that a park of Cameron’s size in a city of Waco’s size will always be a challenge to police. By their nature, the secluded areas that attract tranquility-seekers like me also provide a haven for those with something to hide, such as drug-dealers, prostitutes, vandals and thieves. And it would take the equivalent of a small-town police force to effectively patrol two miles of rustic park 24 hours a day.
Some of the park lovers have suggested closing off parts of the park at night. One idea from the audience was a “citizens on patrol” program for the park — just give bikers and hikers a t-shirt, cellphone and a bit of training and encourage them to call in questionable activity. That’s an idea I’ve had before, and I’d be willing to serve my round.
Here’s another related idea: Cameron Park After Dark, with bonfires, organized campouts, concerts, moonlight hiking tours, anything to get regular folks out having a good time on selected evenings. Outnumber the shady people, and they’ll make themselves scarce.
I’d be interested to hear your ideas. How can we make the new, improved Cameron Park feel like a safer place?
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Revolution (and pollen) in the air
This is not a political blog. So may I say, concerning Wednesday’s Tea Party tax protest, what a fine tradition peaceful political protest is in America and what a fine free-speech venue Heritage Square has shaped up to be.
I should leave it at that, perhaps adding that it was a glorious spring day straight out of a Claritin commercial, full of dappled light, cool breezes and clouds of oak pollen. The crowd of a few hundred, carrying various flags of classic American belligerence (Don’t Tread on Me, Come and Take It), seemed peaceable enough as they cheered antigovernment rhetoric.
The brand new Square Bar and Kitchen beckoned the angry/hungry/thirsty with a sign proclaiming its support of the party and a special: Free iced tea with lunch! A local radio squawk jock, squawking more than usual on a tin-can-sized bullhorn, thanked the crowd and urged it to support his station and advertisers. Politicians stumped, though they seemed put off balance by the lack of a real microphone.
One man handed me a documentary Obama DVD by the conspiracy guru Alex Jones, so I’ll soon know the shocking truth about our commander-in-chief. (Hitler youth? Space alien?)
As for signs, pigs were in, as in pork. So was a pun on the word “change,” as in spare change we’ll have after Obama taxes the bejesus out of us. Tyranny, socialism and puns on “Obama” were mainstays. Exclamation points were in.
The ribbon for most creative went to a woman who took photos of Barney Frank, Nancy Pelosi and President Obama, dressed them up as cute little buccaneers. “The Real Pirates,” her placard read.
But wait. Aren’t the Somali pirates, who even as I type are assaulting real American sailors off the Horn of Africa, real enough? I bet the pirates are smarting at the suggestion that democratically elected American politicians outdid them on pirate cred. Arrrggh!
I heard a lot of rhetoric indistinguishable from garden-variety AM talk radio. Serious discussions of public policy? Not so much.
I wanted to ask: “What is the threshold between normal taxation for the common good and ‘socialism’ and how do we know we’ve crossed it? Does socialism mean raising taxes on the top tax bracket to 40 percent (it was in the 70s throughout Reagan’s first term)? And how many of these protesters earn more than $250,000 a year, anyway?”
But I knew better. We reporters are expected to be political celibates (some would prefer eunuchs.) So again, nice party, guys. Viva la democracia!
I left after it became clear that there would be no final catharsis, no storming of the Bastille, no dumping of Bigelow Earl Grey into the Brazos. Besides, I really needed to take a Claritin.
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Zombie madness downtown!
A late Waco mayor is remembered for saying that downtown Waco was “brain-dead” and was never coming back. Not so well remembered was that the phrase was something like “practically brain-dead,” and that he later recanted, after seeing the progress at RiverSquare.
Still, it’s possible Mr. McGlasson knew more than anyone imagined.
On Wednesday a horde of zombies descended on downtown, with grotesque faces, dead eyes and bone-chilling cries for brains. They burst into the Olive Branch cafe as horrified patrons looked on. Then they ordered soups and salads.
As you may have read in Wendy’s blog, the zombie parade was part of the first-ever Waco flash mob, fittingly scheduled for high noon April 1. Most of the dozen or so participants were summoned by electronic means (Twitter, Facebook, e-mail, blogs, etc). But two of our liveliest undead were my neighbors, summoned by a knock at the door: Stephen and Ashley, their toddler, Olive; and Paul.
True, it would have been slightly more menacing if we had been a mob of at least 30 or 40 fully costumed zombies, as the shadowy organizers of this event hoped. It would have helped if some of us weren’t laughing as we staggered past confused shopkeepers, diners and social services clients. (One street character at Sixth and Austin muttered at us earnestly, as if this was a normal but vexing occurrence in his world).
It might have been more convincing if my fedora (with “Press” card) and Ace bandage had not blown off and into the street, stopping traffic and forcing me to break character.
And maybe we should have thought about the awkwardness of actually waiting in a long line at a popular new cafe with red dye/Karo syrup blood dripping down our faces and clothes.
Still, a threshold has been crossed, a gauntlet has been thrown down. After all, if zombies can wander the streets undisturbed and sit down for a civilized lunch, Waco must be tolerant enough to accept all kinds of folks, right?
Anyway, I’m up for the next flash mob, if someone else would like to organize it. Just let me know when and where.
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Let’s stir things up
Is your downtown lacking in vim, vigor and vitality? Two words for you, young man: Flash mob.
No, this isn’t about organized crime or streaking. In case the authorities are reading this, let me emphasize that I’m not advocating those.
A flash mob is a 21st-century phenomenon in which a crowd is assembled by electronic media for a seemingly spontaneous demonstration, meant to amuse and confuse the public.
Like a giant pillow fight in public. Or a subway car packed with identical twins seated across from each other like a mirror. Or a crowd of people dressed in blue polo shirts entering a Best Buy, to the bemusement of Best Buy employees dressed … in blue polo shirts. You can see some brilliant examples here.
By my calculation, Waco is about six years behind on this trend, but here’s your chance to catch up.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to send an email indicating your interest to wacomob@gmail.com. You will be provided with a time, place and instructions. I’m told this event will occur somewhere downtown, but organizers are tight-lipped on details.
All ages are welcome. I’m told it will be legal, apolitical and harmless, though it may permanently blow some minds. The purpose is fun, and maybe art.
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Downtown banner ideas
It’s been too long, really. Don’t worry, I wasn’t silenced by the powers that be for daring to criticize the secret cultic lamp logo. I’ve just been busy.
I got several, ahem, illuminating candidates for replacing the lamppost-on-lamppost logo for downtown. Lara led off by suggesting the flashy Art Deco “Waco” sign at the Hippodrome, which is better than any idea I had. It’s historical but flashy, iconic but not overexposed. Boffo.
I was intrigued by one defender of the current streetlight image, who said it symbolizes how downtown Waco is lighting the way into the future by, you know, putting up lamp posts. Heavy, man.
Doug suggested the bird from the west side of the courthouse. He called it a seagull; I concluded it’s a sentry goose, for reasons you will see in the comment threads. (The backstory involves dog crucifixion, be warned). I also wholeheartedly agree with Doug’s hatred of the molded plastic bus benches.
Continuing the avian theme, one suggested grackles. Given that grackles will probably perch on the banners, it may be as redundant as the lamppost graphic, but I like the idea.
Some suggested historical images, such as the old City Hall or 19th-century gunfights. That would be more interesting than what we have now. But really, aren’t firearms already a bit too closely associated with the name “Waco?” Besides, one of the guys who got gunned down was the editor of this newspaper, so I don’t want to plant thoughts in people’s heads.
Then there was this stylized Waco skyline, sent to me by my Trib colleague John Geary.
Well, I didn’t have any fancy design program, but I thought I’d try my hand at a banner. I sharpened my quill, put on my green eyeshade and fired up my kerosene-powered copier. Please excuse the rough-hewn results. My idea was to use a skyline (including St. Francis church and the old feed silos, if you’ll notice) and one of our beloved downtown red-tail hawks. I used a kind of early 20th-century Arts and Crafts font, suggesting the time period when a lot of our downtown was built. Herewith:
I think we could get a better hawk in there, but you get the idea. By the way, I’ve been seeing the hawks carrying materials for a nest to the fire escape of the Alico building. Maybe we’ll have some baby hawks this summer. There’s a slogan for you: “Downtown Waco: Where the chicks are.”
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The cult of the lamp post
You might say I’m easily amused, but I found myself laughing this week at those “Downtown Waco” banners that hang from lampposts around the central city. You know, the green ones, with the stylized streetlamp on them.
The gale-force winds from the big storm the other night knocked one upside down just outside our window at the Trib, and I saw them from a new, absurd perspective.
Nothing says “welcome to historic downtown Waco” better than a picture of a fake antique lamppost hanging from a fake antique lamppost.
It’s a bit like identifying yourself with a T-shirt sporting a picture of a T-shirt.
At a time when just about every town in America is prettifying its downtown with these lollipop light fixtures, it’s not a terribly memorable icon.
Another strike against this image is that it was created to be the symbol of Downtown Waco Inc. For that reason, one of the downtown boards a couple of years ago was proposing to remove the banners in the wake of the financial scandal that shut the agency down. I don’t know why, but that never happened.
Anyway, I got to thinking about what the icon of downtown Waco should be. The most obvious would be the Suspension Bridge, though it’s done to death. The Alico building? Well, I’m not sure an insurance building with a neon billboard sums up the soul of our city.
I’ll save my brilliant ideas in favor of soliciting yours. What’s an image that points to something distinctive about our downtown, and simple enough to be comprehended by a car passing at 30 mph?
Post your ideas here, or send me an image at jbsmith@wacotrib.com, and I’ll display them in a future post.
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Walling out Waco on the Riverwalk
The inner city of Waco rarely evokes Robert Frost for me, but I thought I heard the poet’s brusque Yankee brogue this week while I was jogging on the riverwalk. It was not a voice of approval.
After six years of delay, the riverwalk is at last being extended from the Texas Ranger Museum to the Ferrell Center. That’s good news for those who like to jog, bike or skate along the riverfront, and it’s encouraging to see Baylor, the state and Waco spending $2.3 million to connect the campus to the city. It will be a lighted concrete trail 4,000 feet long, with benches and impressive iron bridges.
My excitement at finding the Riverwalk extension half-open clouded over when I saw that it was flanked on the Baylor side by a high fence made of steel bars. It appears the fence will run from the museum, past the law school and practice fields, often running along a masonry terrace.
Part of the trail seems due to be fenced on both sides, like a cattle chute at a slaughterhouse. Elsewhere, the effect is of a fortress university, lacking only a moat and drawbridge to keep the hordes at bay.
“Good fences make good neighbors” is the principle that permeates our politics from Palestine to the Rio Grande. I can imagine the thinking that went into this fence, which must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Who knows what kind of people might be lurking on that riverwalk at night? We owe it to students and their tuition-paying parents to control who comes on campus. After all, if we could prevent just one crime……”
I can also hear the author of “Mending Wall” in rebuttal:
“Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down!”
Who’s walled in here? Baylor students, who might otherwise drift down to the riverside and have a picnic between classes, who might want to bike down a bit further and discover downtown and Cameron Park.
Who’s walled out? That frightening abstraction: “The public.” That’s you and me. Or those of us who find the riverwalk interesting enough, safe enough, inviting enough to venture down there for recreation. But if it’s boring and intimidating and unsafe-feeling, few people will go. Without “safety in numbers,” it becomes in fact, unsafe, a refuge for the antisocial.
Fences like this appeal to the reptilian part of our brain that seeks security above all else, even if it conflicts with the mammalian instinct that tells us we are safest among an orderly crowd, a herd, if you like. In an urban context, isolation is never the foundation of security. Instead it’s what the great urban critic Jane Jacobs calls “eyes on the street,” a multitude of witnesses. That’s why the San Antonio Riverwalk feels safer than ours.
A promenade wedged between an unscalable iron fence and a wide river doesn’t feel safe to me. If you get in trouble, you’re unlikely to be seen, and there’s nowhere to run. And then there’s the ugliness of the fence itself. It seems clear to me that there’s a great difference between enjoying a vista and enjoying a vista from behind bars. That was the idea behind the Cameron Park Zoo. But it didn’t seem so clear to everyone during the discussion of building a six-foot iron fence on top of Lovers Leap (in the end, the council chose a shorter fence). In this case, the fence spoils the Baylor Law School view of the river, and the pedestrian’s view of the Baylor Law School.
But it seems the riverwalk will be fenced off. It’s difficult to make the case that fences are the enemy of a healthy urban environment in an age of gated communities, when few of us actually have the experience of a healthy urban environment. As for me, I’ll use the riverwalk, fences and all, no doubt. But maybe in 20 years, when Waco has become a real city, a good strong wind will come and knock the old rusted green barriers down, and no one will see the need to replace them.
Something there is that does not love a fence.
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Camels and platypuses in Waco: A field guide
This week, the ever-deliberative city council pondered the renaming of Cameron Park East, and then punted the issue back to the Parks Commission for further ponderance.
The poor commission had already tried twice before with proposals. Two Rivers — referring to the Bosque and Brazos, which meet at the park — was a recurrent theme in the lists. In the second round Cliffview (sounds like a motel) was scrapped in favor of the Cliffs at Two Rivers (sounds like a pretentious golf community).
One council member thought all of these names were too “vanilla,” while two said leave “East” in the name, such as Brazos Park East, or leave the name be.
As usual, naming a public place is fraught with politics. Often what emerges is an unsatisfying compromise, like Solomon’s proposal to split a baby in half. The whole is less than the sum of its parts.
Discussing the name change before the meeting, City Manager Groth said he hoped the council could pick something short, because inevitably it will be shortened. Who says “William Cameron Park,” or “The Dr. Mae Jackson Development Center,” or on the private sector side, “Central Texas Marketplace?” And I for one refuse to utter the words “Miss Nellie’s Pretty Place,” no matter how fine a lady was Congressman Poage’s mom.
But democracy and brevity are well-known enemies. Groth alluded to the old saw that “a camel is a horse designed by a committee.”
Disregarding the implied speciesism (stranded in the desert, I know which animal I’d choose) I think a better analogy would be the platypus, with its bill, claws, fur and egg-laying ability — one of God’s awkward jokes.
I have collected some local platypus specimens, with some brief field notes as to their habitat and origins.
- Bledsoe-Miller Park and Recreation Center: Generations of Wacoans have grown up believing somebody important was named Bledsoe Miller. Apparently, this was thought to be the only opportunity to honor a famous black Waco native, so the powers that be gerrymandered the names of Pearl Harbor hero Doris Miller and Broadway baritone Jules Bledsoe. Both were great men, and it seems cheap to assign them as roommates. Bledsoe seems most appropriate, since “Old Man River” could be a theme throughout the park.
- Martin Luther King Jr. Drive/Lake Brazos Drive. Once again, the name reflects a community’s ambivalence. Councilman Lawrence Johnson struggled for years in the 1990s to get the Lake Brazos Drive renamed. The compromise: Both names are now official, and visitors are lost.
On the other hand, kudos where kudos is due: At least they didn’t apply Dr. King’s name to the most forlorn inner-city street, as other towns have done. - Jefferson-Moore High School. Thankfully, this platypus has been humanely euthanized. When the all-black A.J. Moore High School was shuttered during integration, WISD built a new downtown high school on Jefferson Avenue. Some community leaders wanted to call it “Jefferson High School,” while others wanted to preserve the old name. They put both names in a blender, out poured this smoothie of a name. In latter years, it has been renamed A.J. Moore Academy, once again honoring the respected black principal.
- Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum/Fort Fisher: The previous city manager, Kathy Rice, was confused when she moved to Waco and saw wayfaring signs for “Fort Fisher.” She had to be told that the attraction was the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum. She changed the signs to “Texas Ranger Museum,” clarifying for tourists just what it was they were on their way to.
A historical note: Fort Fisher was a short-lived Ranger camp from pre-Waco days. Its exact location is unknown, but it was appropriated by the founders of the Ranger museum in the late 1960s. At first there were two separate attractions: A museum and a hall of fame, with separate tickets required for each.
An unhistorical note: In 2009, who really cares?
Homework:
- What other platypus names exist in Greater Waco?
- What name would you prefer for Cameron Park East?
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Hedonism on the cheap
For months I have avoided looking at it, tried to deny its importance, tried to believe that it couldn’t possibly be the horror everyone said it would be.
Finally this afternoon, I got a new password, went online, and winced as I looked at my 401k. Turns out, there wasn’t much to look at. My gains of the last three years had all been erased, which I guess means I’ll be working as a Wal-Mart greeter instead of retiring to sunny Belize.
So now is as good a time as any to appreciate the aesthetic of minimalism. You know, rediscover the simple pleasures of life, the saintly joy of simplicity, the lilies of the field, etc. etc.
I know, the St. Francis act doesn’t fool anyone, not with a spiral cut ham waiting for me when I get home. Recession aside, I go on with my yuppie addictions to fancy coffee, olives, craft beer, wine and Panera bread. Lately I’ve gotten the newlywed syndrome, buying stuff right and left: a 12-megapixel SLR camera, a new cellphone and various home furnishings, even though our apartment is choked to the gills.
Let me admit it: spending money is fun.
But saving it can also be a pleasant sport, and living in downtown Waco has helped. After the wedding, Bethany moved from next door into my apartment, cutting our already low rent costs in half.
Lately I’ve been walking to work more often, as we’re experimenting with being a one-car household. It started just before Christmas, when the mechanic told us that Bethany’s 1992 Buick Century would need $550 of work — about the value of the car itself. No thanks, we said.
We considered buying a new car, but then began discussing it. Bethany is at home much of the day working on her dissertation, and only needs the car to go teach her class at Baylor or run errands. I’m a 12-minute walk from work, or a five-minute bike ride. So why spend $15,000 or so on another car? Think how many great parties you throw with that money.
It’s working pretty well so far. Today, I walked to work and then met her down at Salon Wabi Sabi just in time to go next door to Se Cocina. We split a parrillada, a flaming skillet heaped with vegetables, shrimp, beef and chicken. It was 20 bucks for more than two people could handle — perhaps the best meal value in downtown.
We’re also preparing ourselves for the next Great Depression by skimping on climate control. We keep the thermostat around 66 when we’re around the house, then turn it down to about 62 at night or when we’re out. And, knowing both of us, we’ll probably hold off on air conditioning until early July.
Just now my editor handed me a plug-in device for measuring electric usage, called a “Kill a Watt.” She said I could borrow it if I’d blog about it. So, per our verbal contract, I’ll be getting back to you with thrilling tales of energy conservation.
Though I’m a skinflint in some regards, I’m a hedonist in others. So don’t feel sorry for me if you see me walking into the winter winds at dusk. I’m probably on my way home to a fantastic homecooked meal, along with the timeless pleasures of wine, woman and song.
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Bold strokes, small tweaks
The last day of 2008 was warm enough to walk to work and to lunch, and a good time as any to wax philosophical about New Year’s resolutions.
I passed up Schmaltz’s dripping sourdough temptations and made the long trek to McAlister’s Deli in search of slightly healthier fare.
My good intentions got me to thinking about the grim progression of resolutions: The holiday indulgence, the post-holiday bloat, the fantasy of drastic self-reform, the inevitable defeat, the gym membership unused, the pork rinds raided, the Spanish vocabulary CD gathering dust bunnies.
No resolutions for me this year, thanks. But resolutions for others? That sounds like a lot more fun.
This year the chamber will be hosting big community discussions about the future of “Greater Downtown.” The buzzword at the chamber these days is “transformative.” Make no small plans, they say. It’s not enough to do a little better each year; we need a game-changer, a Bold Stroke.
Journalists love to write about Bold Strokes, because they’re news, whether they’re a swan or a turkey. Politicians love to take credit for them. And usually someone gets rich from them.
One Bold Stroke idea is taking shape around City Hall, with the Town Square development, which is exciting for anyone who remembers the desolate asphalt plain that it replaced. Rick Sheldon is raising the ante, envisioning a billion dollars in redevelopment on the riverfront.
Meanwhile, up Austin Avenue, we’re seeing the results of a small-tweak approach. One by one, little vacant buildings are being renovated for small businesses. A bar here, a restaurant there, even an art gallery. It’s nothing “impressive,” really. But in time it could develop into a rich urban environment, with cafes, art galleries, street performance spaces, bookstores, pubs and the “characters” that inhabit them.
Unfortunately, you can’t build that atmosphere. You can only cultivate it and let it grow, perhaps in unexpected directions.
The dilemma is this: People’s memories are too long. The negative past trumps the positive present. The incremental improvements at say, downtown Waco or Cameron Park, can’t erase the shady reputations they acquired 30 years ago. Here’s where the Bold Stroke comes in. As some of us saw in Chattanooga, Tenn. this summer, a big project like a world-class aquarium can change people’s perceptions and signal that things have changed.
Fair enough. But it’s not enough. Think of those New Year’s Resolutions. Losing pounds is pointless without the daily discipline to keep them off. Getting organized is worthless without daily habits to keep you there. The Bold Stroke is only a prelude to an endless series of small ones, the long drive before the short putt. You can build a Town Square development in a year, but to rebuild a vibrant downtown around it, business by business, tweak by tweak, may take years.
But enough self-improvement claptrap from me. I want to hear your resolutions for downtown. I’ll give you mine, mostly in the category of small tweaks.
- Good sidewalks everywhere.
- More quick, good, cheap places to eat, where you don’t have to tip.
- A coffeehouse, open at night, with live music.
- A real pub with lots of on tap and a biergarten.
- Lighting on the Riverwalk.
- A multi-day music festival along the Brazos.
- A Farmers Market on the east side, evolving into a market district that will shame
Canton.
- A convenience store or drug store.
- A bookstore, with a newsstand featuring the Tribune-Herald, better than ever under new, enlightened local ownership. (Make no small plans, right?)
I’ll see you around downtown next year.
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Freedom Fountain Redux
In my last installment I asked for your thoughts on relocating the Freedom Fountain. I also promised another entry with my solution.
It was to be an elegant solution, one that would free up space for the convention center expansion, beautify the riverfront and pay homage to the spirit of the Wacoans who sought the release of Vietnam War prisoners in 1971. A solution so innovative that it proved I was not only thinking outside the box but had crushed and shredded the box and hauled it to the recycling bin.
I confess: I was stalling for time.
I did have a half-baked idea: Create a “horizontal fountain” that would flow from the current Freedom Fountain site, meander around the convention center area and flow to the river, possibly by the Vietnam War Memorial, cascade to the edge of the river, then get pumped back upstream to be recirculated.
After scoping out the site on foot I have determined that it could indeed be done, beautifully, for about an umptillion dollars.
My idea was stolen from the huge riverside aquarium complex in Chattanooga, Tenn. In the plaza, water appears to break through the concrete and create an urban brook that meanders toward the river. When I visited, the little stream was full of kids splashing around.
A horizontal fountain might work somewhere along the riverfront, but getting it from the convention center courtyard to the river seems a monumental challenge. The passage between the Hilton and the Convention Center narrows to the width of a cattle chute, then drops off abruptly into a loading zone on U-Parks.
Just goes to show that bad design is the gift that keeps on giving. The convention center complex was conceived as a “superblock,” but ends up blocking any foot traffic between Heritage Square and the river.
I also checked out the Vietnam Memorial area north of Washington Ave. bridge as a fountain location, but it’s also limited by design issues. Unfortunately, the curved wall on the street corner perimeter on University-Parks blocks the public’s view of both the memorial and the river. Not the best place for a showcase fountain. But maybe someone else can figure out a way to make it work.
Now I yield the floor to Chris McGowan, the chamber’s downtown guy, who sent me this box-shredder of an idea: A roundabout fountain. The city could construct an island in the intersection of Franklin and University-Parks to calm traffic (think London, not Waco traffic circle). I only wish I had Chris’ cool software stash.
So, dream on. A fountain doesn’t have to be a pool with a vertical jet of water. It can be a thing of beauty and surprise, a flowing, dancing metaphor for freedom.
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Your turn: The Freedom Fountain
Just got word that the city is holding a public meeting next Thursday, Dec. 18, at 5:30 p.m. at the Waco Convention Center’s Bosque Theater on the possible relocation of the Freedom Fountain to Indian Spring Park.
As we noted in last week’s story, the Freedom Fountain is broken and in need of about $200,000 in repairs, while the convention center needs the room. The fountain plaza was built in 1973, growing out of a trip Waco citizens made two years earlier to Paris to plead with the North Vietnamese for the release of POWs.
No point in waiting on the public meeting to weigh in on this. I’m curious about what people think about moving this piece of Vietnam War history.
On the one hand, “relocating” the Freedom Fountain is a bit of euphemism for what is actually the removal of one monumental fountain and the construction of a new one. That’s not an insignificant distinction: If you took out the Waco Suspension Bridge out and built a more modern one downstream, it would be a different bridge, even if it paid homage to the first one, and even if it incorporated some of the original cables. The fountain itself is a touchstone from a particular moment in history, and it can’t be replicated.
On the other hand, not everything has to be preserved forever, and right now, it’s not much to look at. Water hasn’t flowed from the fountain in several years, and the pumping system is obsolete. The massive concrete design is definitely early ’70s, and seems drab and outdated today. Some have noted that the live oak trees have grown up to obscure the fountain, but I’d say that’s one of the more attractive features of the current fountain plaza, giving it a cool, quiet intimacy.
In my next entry I’ll share with you my solution, which I think would beautify the downtown area and honor the ideals of those who pleaded for the imprisoned soldiers the year I was born. But first, I want to hear your thoughts. Let your imaginations run wild.
(But no 60-foot concrete POWs, thanks.)
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A Brazos Wedding, geese and all
Anyone who was there could probably give a more coherent account than I can. But here’s what I remember of my downtown Waco wedding, November 22, 2008.
Standing on the Waco Suspension Bridge, warming the hands of a beautiful, slender woman with white flowers in her hair. Snatches of Bach and bluegrass. The clink of metal hitting wood when the best man took the pillow from the ringbearer. The sound of metal rolling down between the slats of the bridge. The laughter of the crowd, realizing it had been hoodwinked by a quarter dropped from his pocket.
The crowd, pulling shawls and coats against the November wind: A startling collage of faces from high school, college, work, church, her family and mine. Cousins from West and East Coasts.
As we recited the vows, a motorboat made a joyride up the river, a raucous gaggle of geese protested our union and a vagabond woman strolled behind the assembled wedding party.
We said we would and we did, and then we kissed, and the crowd cheered and toasted us with glasses of wine and cider.
You might think this is taking my downtown schtick a bit too far, but our plans evolved with Bethany’s full consent. We wanted a different wedding, a simple wedding, without matching bridesmaids’ dresses, tuxes, engagement rings, wedding cakes, limos, all the overpriced flourishes of the “Wedding-Industrial Complex.” This sinister cabal conspires to oversell you on every detail or face the guilt of being a cheapskate on Her Special Day. Which is why the average Her Special Day costs $22,000, enough for a nice downpayment on a house.
What we didn’t realize is that simple is not a synonym for easy. A standard wedding would have been the course of least resistance, but with the help of great friends and family we pulled off something unique.
We had hoped for a Cameron Park wedding, but the clubhouse was to be under renovation and we didn’t want to gamble on the weather.
So we turned to a more urban setting. We rented Bledsoe-Miller Recreation Center and pavilion for the reception (perhaps the best deal in town) and worked out the ceremony location with another couple who had rented the bridge for evening. The Parks and Rec people were helpful, to the point of accomodating our quirky request to plant a baldcypress “wedding tree” on the banks of the Brazos.
Keep Waco Beautiful also cooperated graciously by relocating the headquarters of the annual Brazos trash pickup from Bledsoe-Miller to further downstream and cleaning up our section first.
The only hitch was the bras.
When we arrived for photos there was a chain of them, a rainbow of undergarments stretched across the iron railings of the bridge, flapping in the breeze.
We were assured these were merely for a quick photo promoting the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Fortunately, the lingerie didn’t linger, though I assume the guests would have thought it was part of our mad design.
At Bledsoe-Miller, we feasted on barbecued chicken, brisket, black bean salad and 25 wedding pies that friends had made or brought, knowing we would prefer pie to bland wedding cake. Other friends played Latin folk music, jazz, bluegrass and doowop.
We planted the tree by the water’s edge. By the time it’s big enough to climb, I’ll be too old to climb it, but perhaps another generation of Smiths will be old enough.
For the getaway, we ran through a gauntlet of alleged “friends” who aimed blasts of birdseed into our faces. We boarded a canoe that was decked out with silky fabric, outfitted with a torch and “just married” pennant and tied to the dock on the Brazos. We paddled away into the Waco night — away from the riverfront where a crowd cheered, a wedding tree grew and a gaggle of irate geese muttered their disapproval — and back to our downtown Waco home.
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Man Downtown on the loose
An explanation for J.B.’s lack of recent postings: The Trib’s downtown blogger has been missing since Saturday and was last seen paddling across the Brazos in a canoe, with a beautiful woman and a tiki torch in front and a “just married” sign in back. A nationwide manhunt is on, and rest assured he will be returned to his computer soon.
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Dispatches from Austin Avenue
I saw Scott Baker ambling bleary-eyed down Austin Avenue on this windy afternoon, and I caught up with him. Scott’s not just the head honcho at the Waco Hippodrome; he’s also a student at Truett Seminary, in the last lap of his master’s degree, and he’s getting by on very little sleep these days.
I think the thesis had something to do with the Rocky Horror Picture Show and Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, but maybe I misunderstood.
Anyway. Scott said once he’s done with Truett, he has an ambitious to-do list at the venerable downtown theater, including booking more theater and music acts (such as Bernadette Peters, possibly Lyle Lovett) and preparing for a renovation that will temporarily shut down the Hippodrome next summer.
Among the improvements he’s hoping for is a state-of-the-art high-definition projection system. Along with the Hippodrome’s 35mm projector, the new system will pave the way for regular Friday night music nights, planned to start next September. The offerings would include classics such as Casablanca, Ben Hur and Lawrence of Arabia, as well as high-definition simulcasts from the Metropolitan Opera. The projection system could also facilitate Oscar parties, video game tournaments, and other fun.
He’s emboldened by last week’s Rocky Horror Picture Show production, which he described as “embarrassingly successful,” bringing in more than twice the patrons he expected. I understand it ended with a debate on law and grace as conceived by Frank N. Furter and St. Paul. Onward, Scott.
As I took my leave of Scott, I ran into the developer Michael Wray, who was striding down Austin Avenue toward his mixed-use project at Heritage Square. I strode along and asked a few questions.
He says two-thirds of the 42 loft apartments are booked, including leases and purchases. Meanwhile, some 14,000 square feet of retail is spoken for: The Olive Branch cafe, Rosati’s Pizza, a health club, a spa/salon and a women’s boutique. I’m sure we’ll have details on these soon in the Trib.
I had to ask Wray the obvious: Isn’t the recession cutting into demand?
No, he said; in fact, prices are going up. As workers bricked up the three-story facade across Fourth Street, he took out his iPhone and showed me chapter and verse. A one-bedroom apartment is now going for $108,000, with a rental rate of $850 a month.
“Once people have something to walk through, we’ll really start making some sales,” Wray said.
I have to admit, it would be a convenient place from which to keep an eye on City Hall, but I think I’ll stay put.
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History up in flames
Last night I was sipping a fine Scotch in a fine house next to Cameron Park. My friends gave Bethany and me a tour of their house, a two-story Georgian beauty with heavy crown molding and several porches and balconies with a view of forest and night sky. The conversation drifted to the master architect, Milton Scott.
I’ve written about Mr. Scott here, because I’ve lived in two of his creations, Palm Court and Terrace Gardens. He designed more Waco landmarks than anyone: First Baptist Church, the Dr Pepper building, Waco High School and Sanger Avenue school, to name a few. My hosts brought out a historic picture of Sanger school, and we discussed its great architecture and potential.
That was last night. Now it’s Saturday evening, Sanger school is no more, and I sit here typing with the smoke from its ruins still in my clothes.
The fire department isn’t saying it’s arson, though it’s hard to imagine that three vacant buildings catching fire the same night within half a mile is a coincidence. The fire started sometime around 5 a.m., and when I got there mid-morning, smoke was still billowing as the firefighters pounded the ruined building with a water cannon.
LaNelle McNamara, the owner, was sitting on the steps across the street at her Victorian house, watching. Bees were buzzing around the daisies nearby, and the October sun was shining through the smoke and the mist. It was a beautiful day, except for the fire.
“That was a good one,” LaNelle shouted out to the distant firefighters. She rose to her feet and clapped, then sat back down.
“I’m giving orders, see,” she said.
I feel the loss, though I never saw the school in its heyday — never saw it as anything but a promising eyesore. The McNamaras bought the place two decades ago and have spent a fair amount maintaining it, though they could never find someone to redevelop it.
I used to live in the neighborhood, a block away from the school. My friends in the neighborhood used to dream of turning it into an artists colony, or a nonprofit center or a business incubator or loft apartments. Ultimately, we had more dreams than resources, the usual dilemma.
LaNelle gave me a tour one day a few years ago. I remember an atrium with a rotunda three stories up. I remember a large auditorium with wooden seats. I seem to remember chalkboards with writing still on them. The plaster was crumbing and there was a dank smell in the air, but the building looked solid.
Its survival was a testament to Mr. Scott’s design. But empty buildings attract mischief, and it’s no surprise that it would ultimately attract arsonists. Whatever the investigation deterimines, Sanger Avenue School’s tragic destruction is part of a bigger narrative, of an era when the community turned its back on its history and its inner city. I hope we’re starting to turn the page on that era.
Here’s a picture of Sanger Elementary, in a Gildersleeve picture taken around 1914, before new wings were added.
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The Mural Majority: Should taste be legislated?
Get out your number 2 pencils. It’s pop quiz time.
How would you describe the mural shown in this photo of a tattoo shop near Eighth and Franklin:
a) A vibrant work of underground urban art that livens up a dreary building?
b) An offense to taste and sensibility, a blight on downtown that could only be improved by a coat of beige Sherwin-Williams enamel paint?
c) A disturbing reminder of the pasty kid who sat behind me in eighth-grade math, drawing scenes of annihilation on his book cover with a Paper Mate pen?
One downtown businessman and resident came down strongly for Option B during a downtown Public Improvement District board meeting this week.
The board is composed mostly of downtown business interests and oversees a special downtown fund. They were discussing a sweeping new set of zoning rules to govern future development downtown, including sign regulations.
The comment about the mural came from Chris Matthews, who converted the old Bauer-McCann building at Eighth and Austin into an elegant home and the Palladium special events center. He called it a “ghastly mural” that “looks like grafitti.”
“I don’t know why the owner would allow something like that,” he said.
While murals are exempted from the size limitations on signs (10 percent of the building facade), Matthews asked if there was or could be a committee to approve murals to prevent such artistic excesses.
The suggestion didn’t seem to go anywhere, but it raises an interesting question. Does the government have any business as an arbitrer of taste?
It reminds me of my time in Georgetown when Sun City Texas was being developed. The senior-only community has Orwellian-sounding “ModComs,” or modification committees, to dictate the size of your backyard deck, the color of your trim and the decor in your front yard.
One fellow brought in a large petrified log for his yard. I thought it was cool. ModCom considered it a blight, and it had to go.
If some couple wants to live in such a conformist regime, where kids, front-yard flagpoles and open garage doors are forbidden, fine. Freedom implies the right to forfeit your freedom. And they do sign the deed restrictions.
But an environment like downtown Waco is different. It’s the product of 160 years of evolution, with contributions from hundreds of property owners. It’s a mishmash of styles from different eras. It’s a salad of uses, from small industry to chic restaurants to government offices to lofts, hair salons, tattoo shops and elegant event centers.
Take away that heterogeneity and you have — what? A shopping mall? Disney’s master-planned Celebration, Florida? Sun City Waco?
Which is not to say all development standards are bad. Ideally, they help create an attractive environment where a lot of different businesses can thrive. A one-story, windowless prefab metal building certainly would ruin the streetscape of downtown Austin Avenue. So would a 50-story skyscraper.
But we’re talking about paint here. It will fade, or someone will paint over it in time. And it does add something interesting to a fairly boring block, even if it’s not to your taste (tattoos aren’t to my taste, but I’m not going to demand a committee to approve yours). Here’s another downtown mural, with Jesus on the cross and various landmarks from around the world.
I’m not exactly sure what it means, but hey, it’s a bit of local color, a conversation-starter.
Can you imagine the discussion if both murals came before the Downtown Mural ModCom? Could they separate the question of “taste” from their own religious or class background?
The problem, as usual, is that everyone has different opinions, and sadly, no one ever consults the one guy who’s always right — me.
Latest comments
MATTHEW J….. I agree with Trib Regular; dude, if you dont like it, dont frickin’ read it. wouldnt that be better than reading it anyway, gettin’ your panties all jumbled up, and having to say something stupid? this only makes you look
... read the full comment by leslie | Comment on Losing the press room Read Losing the press room
I enjoy J.B.’s articles. They provide a unique look at areas of Waco that I don’t always have time to see. His articles make me slow down and take time to enjoy life. As for the Press Room closing, I can relate to that as my daddy’s occupation
... read the full comment by Remember Me | Comment on Losing the press room Read Losing the press room
It is a sad day for the Waco Trib and the ones that toiled so many years there to make the best product that we could. It is a sad that the owners have decided to print the paper in Austin. Thanks JB for a great article. At least there is one person at
... read the full comment by Pressroom Guy | Comment on Losing the press room Read Losing the press room
So don’t read his stuff Matthew. Is that so hard? Dolt!
... read the full comment by Trib Regular | Comment on Losing the press room Read Losing the press room