Mel and I collaborated on the selection of authors, a mixture of professional observers of Houston, writers, and individuals who reflect our interests in the arts, urban design, and social issues. Each essayist was asked to write about his or her experience living in Houston. The resultant Good book is not a time capsule, nor is it a portrait; rather it is a snapshot, capturing a small slice of the mosaic that is Houston.

Houston is a sprawling city, covering over 600 square miles, with multiple business centers and a rich patchwork of distinctive neighborhoods, some even separate cities, within its limits. Sobriquets include “Energy Capital of the World,” “Space City” for the nearby NASA complex, and “Bayou City” for the network of streams that link its far-flung areas. It is a multicultural city with a strong mix of Caucasian, Hispanic, African-American, and Asian populations. And it is an international city: our inland port ranks first in the nation in foreign tonnage. The city boasts seventy-three foreign consulates, and over sixty-five languages are spoken in its public schools. Houston is a place of diversity and contradiction where immigrant energy mixes with the old South and the newer frontier, within a place defined by environmental forces, both geographical and economic. It is a place defined as well by the people living here. So it is not surprising that it is difficult to conjure a coherent image of the real Houston.

Houston has been a boomtown for most of its history, the recession of the eighties being a notable exception, and that has attracted newcomers seeking new opportunity. Houston has doubled its population every twenty years through 1980 and continues to have a higher growth rate than the national average. Much of that growth comes from international immigration. The good economy and the space to spread out have helped to ameliorate tensions that might otherwise have developed as different cultures, races, and life styles came together—success stories abound. Nevertheless, there will probably always be individual instances of intolerance. These essays reflect both types of experience.

Mel Chin’s essay launches this examination of Houston and provides the title for the collection. He relates three memories of his youth that shaped his development as an artist and an activist. Those familiar with Mel’s work will recognize the origin of some of his imagery and his concern with the nature of violence and racism. The essays of Bao Long Chu and Sehba Sarwar reflect the experience of immigrants recently arrived to Houston, one as a child and the other as an adult, while Diana Dávila Martínez exemplifies the dream of parents who came here to provide a better life for their children.

A political activism informs many of these accounts, including that of Pokey Anderson, a leader in the gay and lesbian community, one of the largest in the country. She takes us on a tour of landmarks in the history of gay rights in Houston. Another struggle that reaches deeper into the city’s past—the civil rights movement—found unique expression in Houston, one of the few big cities in the sixties to avoid destructive race riots. Civic and religious leaders worked together to insure that integration would not tear the community apart. Melanie Lawson tells of growing up in the household of one of those leaders.

Houston’s southern roots are as essential to its character as its later evolution into a “Sunbelt” city of the Hispanic Southwest with its frontier ethos. Lorenzo Thomas traces the history of black music in Houston from jazz and blues to gangsta rap, describing how Juke Boy Bonner’s songs “captured the archetypal newcomer’s initial wide-eyed wonder, as well as the inevitable disappointment and the onset of a sophisticated cynicism.” This is an apt description of the story related by Gwendolyn Scott who comes from a farm in rural East Texas. The rebellious energy of the punk rockers and other musicians encountered by Andrea Chin, Mel’s sixteen-year-old niece, during her nocturnal forays is only the latest expression of that need to experiment, to push at the frontier.

Southern, western, and Mexican influences come together in the city’s unique folk art environments—a true symbol of Houston’s entrepreneurial spirit. “In a place where your neighbor can cover his house with beer cans or make a monument to the fruit he loves most, are your dreams too improbable?” asks Susanne Theis. She suggests the lack of zoning and the temperate climate help explain the inordinate number of these handmade personal spaces in Houston, but a more important factor is the constant reinvention of the city by newcomers.

This exhilarating mix of expression has contributed to what Susie Kalil describes as the blurring of boundaries in Houston, a cultural fusion in formerly homogeneous neighborhoods, and the opportunity for our cultural institutions to help us understand those multiple voices: Art “can help us to cope, to share our culture, to understand one another. Art can be a carrier of magical force, a conveyor of language, identity, and ideas.” James Harithas is more critical, seeing the city as still racially segregated, and he issues an even stronger challenge to the city’s museums to address what he sees as their real province: “issues from homelessness, racism, and pollution, to political and corporate corruption, to defining and protecting freedom of speech and visual expression.”

Artists can evoke the character of a city, and cultural institutions help us to understand its myriad expressions, but we still must deal with the physical geography if we are to conjure an image of “place.” Kevin Shanley describes the subtle beauty of our humid Gulf Coast ecology and suggests that our system of bayous is a defining feature that provides an opportunity both to add much needed park land and to mitigate flooding: the “decisions we make as we build a city in, around, and on top of this delicate lacework [of streams] reflect the values we hold, not just about the value of land, but also about the values we place on community.”

The other part of our physical reality is the built environment; Houston is known for its modern skyline. Until recently, the corollary unfortunately was a disregard for its historic and vernacular buildings. Architectural historian Stephen Fox argues that the cult of the individual and the view that “economic success is the greatest good” in Houston has resulted in a lack of concern for the coherent shaping of public space and an aversion to zoning. Carlos Jimenez, an architect, also expresses concern about the waste and lost opportunity, particularly evident in the cheaply constructed, poorly designed developments currently proliferating around the city. “If architecture is . . . to be more than just an agent for notorious and irresponsible consumption—it should start by reinforcing the uniqueness of the city as a place.”

Are we ready to tackle these issues of multiculturalism, economic determinism, and definition of place? Do we care? Stephen Klineberg has tracked the attitudes and demographics of Houstonians for almost twenty years, from the first days of the ’82 recession that marked the end of the Oil Age in Houston. He describes Houston as being in the midst of a fundamental redefinition from one driven by developer decisions to one that “will require us to pay far more attention to the collective needs and public spaces of our community.” He lists the multiethnic makeup of our city, the need for an educated work force to compete in a knowledge-based economy, and our environmental crisis as the challenges facing the city. And, yes, his survey results indicate we do care.

Historically, those kinds of urban planning concerns in Houston have been addressed by the private sector, and for the last seventeen years, Central Houston has led the redevelopment of downtown, culminating in the current $2 billion investment in facilities, housing, and street improvements. Bob Eury, president, gives us a vision that focuses on quality of life issues—Houston in 2020 as a livable city, one celebrating its diversity with “a rich tapestry of unique places to live and visit . . . connected by attractive corridors for public and personal transport.”

Visionary leaders of the early part of the last century—Edgar Odell Lovett, J. S. Cullinan, Will C. Hogg, and his sister Ima—also initiated urban designs for the city; Stephen Fox describes architect Ralph Adams Cram’s vision for Houston “as a garden city in which voluptuous vegetation compensated for the flat topography.” He singles out John and Dominique de Menil in the second half of the century for incorporating aesthetics, human rights, and ecumenical understanding in their inclusive social vision, one that has had a profound influence on Houston. Walter Hopps in his essay expands on the extraordinary de Menil legacy, and Patsy Cravens gives us an equally intimate and personal view of the Cullinan sisters, three exceptional women who had their own impact on the city. In the end, it all comes down to the individual citizens, both ordinary and remarkable, who determine whether the vision of a livable city is realized.

And finally, the city can be found in the voice of the poet. Sarah Cortez’s essay is in part an incantatory paean to Houston in all her feminine guises: lusty and naïve, spiritual and intolerant, sophisticated and simple, diligent and dilettante—a city to love in all its contradictions.

Twenty voices of all generations, from different parts of the city, with diverse ethnic backgrounds, revealing commonalities in their dreams and realities—they tell a story of Houston as it was and as it can be. It is now up to each of us to help define what the city will become in the twenty-first century.

Acknowledgments

As a native Houstonian and a lifelong resident, I have seen Houston evolve from a small city to an international metropolis. During those decades, I have had the good fortune to come in contact with a wide range of accomplished people who have enriched my life and shaped my outlook. These civic leaders, philanthropists, staff of nonprofit organizations, fellow board members, academics, artists and writers, business leaders, and elected officials are committed to improving the quality of life in Houston and were my inspiration for this project. For his part, Mel Chin, my friend and collaborator, who has not lived in Houston for fifteen years, was more interested in the contradictions, the less heard voices, the accidental and random aspects of Houston: the resulting collection is a more revealing one because of his suggestions. Moreover, his evocative cover image and interpretative map illustrations are a book unto themselves, providing another reading of Houston and demonstrating the power of visual art to render the essence of an idea in a form that transcends language.

Mel and I are grateful to all of the essayists, who so graciously shared their experiences and wisdom, for the time and thoughtfulness they invested in the project. Houston’s diversity is its strength and the essayists exemplify that. Polly Koch, one of Houston’s most respected editors, must be considered a collaborator, too. Because of her skill, the book is eminently more readable; because of her efficiency, the project has been completed on a very tight timetable. Fiona McGettigan and Alan Krathaus of Core Design Studio have produced a design that beautifully complements the images and text.

Many friends and colleagues were consulted for suggestions on potential essayists, but Rich Levy at Inprint was exceptionally generous with his time and advice. My thanks also go to Susie Kalil who has been a valuable sounding board and to Stephen Fox who always responded graciously to my many inquiries. My only regret is that there was not sufficient time, and never enough funds, to include the many other relevant topics suggested or to give adequate voice to organizations that are important to me. And finally, the project would not have happened without the enthusiastic support of my husband, Jeff Beauchamp, whose steadfastness sustains me.

Copyright © 2000
By Toni Beauchamp
Houston, Texas

Each of the twenty authors retains copyright to his or her essay and has licensed the use of the essay for this publication and any subsequent reprints of this publication.

All illustrations are by Mel Chin: Cover image Good © Mel Chin 1999; twenty map illustrations © Mel Chin 2000.