Ray Nasher was not wearing silk pajamas. This much I can tell you. But beyond that, people aren’t saying a whole lot about the unusual meeting held one afternoon last winter at Ray Nasher’s home on lushly wooded Miron Drive in North Dallas. The meeting was held at 3 p.m…
Dale Lane was seething. Just the other day, a friend had called the 27-year-old Dallas rapper–better known by his stage name, Goldfinger–long-distance from Florida. “Man, did you see your new album?” the friend asked. “Man, it’s all over the place down here.” At first, Lane had no idea what his…
On this particular Monday afternoon, Phil Thomas is clean-shaven and neatly dressed. At least by his standards.His short-sleeved shirt appears to have been recently pressed; its blue-and-white squares widen slightly as they descend over his belly toward a pair of oil-spotted polyester pants. An intractable row of long black hairs…
Anyone for a Bathos chip? Buzz is getting that woozy feeling that we’ve heard enough already about the personal lives of presidential candidates. We’ve not only been regaled with tales of Bill’s philandering and and his tragically unsuccessful attempt to ingest marijuana, but more recently Chelsea’s tonsillectomy. Then there’s Bob…
Helen Washington was in a hurry. A big hurry. And anyone with a shred of humanity would understand why. A home health aide, Washington had been at her job of five years–caring for an elderly woman in Garland–when she received a heart-stopping phone call from her neighbor, Minnie. Minnie said…
Arruuuggghaaa I was pleased to see that there may be some hope yet for retribution on behalf of former employees of the Resolution Trust Corporation [“To catch a thief,” August 22]. I sympathize with [John] Battaglia’s quest for justice in the face of blatant abuse by government contractors with respect…
Richard Williams saw himself as the pie-and-cookie mogul of Dallas. He envisioned a huge plant churning out thousands of his cheese cakes and pecan pies, a fleet of his trucks delivering them to bake shops and restaurants across Texas–maybe even the country. It was a dream Williams and his wife,…
It’s Saturday night at Billy Bob’s Texas, and the cavernous honky-tonk is alive with ritual: girls in tight jeans eyeing guys in starched Western shirts; couples on the town; pool shooters with their cues at big-buckle level; and solitary drinkers. Billy Bob’s has a number of stages–even a small rodeo…
Truth is stranger than Crusty When Ringling Bros. Barnum & Bailey circus was in town recently, you might have noticed that the major attraction touted on billboards and obligingly covered in The Dallas Morning News was Uberclown David Larible. “I am a clown on a mission,” Larible says in the…
A former female employee who sued Sky Chefs Inc. in 1994 claiming that company supervisors failed to prevent male co-workers from sexually harassing and assaulting her on the job settled her case earlier this month. Tonjua Benge worked as a truck driver for the Arlington-based airline food company. Her allegations…
District Court Judge Mike Keasler was not pleased. On August 23, Scott Fernandes, a 27-year-old youth soccer coach, stood before the judge and pleaded guilty to sexually assaulting one of his female players several times in 1994. A popular coach for two competitive soccer clubs and Jesuit College Preparatory School,…
It was one of those classic DISD moments. The Dallas Independent School District board was poised to adopt a $772-million annual budget. In it, the district’s teachers weren’t going to get an across-the-board raise, but the administrators who had made that decision had enjoyed whopping raises of up to 24…
Blowing smoke David Pasztor’s article on Texas Industries’ participation in the WFAA-TV “Companies Who Care” program [“Companies that whore,” August 15] bought into our opponents’ ongoing misinformation campaign about our operations in Midlothian. Pasztor did call me to ask about the television spots. However, he didn’t ask about our operations…
Since Seasons in Hell was published in June, I’ve done about 30 sports talk-radio programs, and the question that surfaced on almost all of them was this: Why, after more than 20 years, did you finally get around to writing this book? Usually, my explanation involved the notion that some…
John Battaglia was riffling through some billing invoices on his desk three years ago when he noticed something odd. A certified public accountant, Battaglia was among the troops assembled by the Resolution Trust Corporation to pick through the wreckage of the country’s savings and loan disaster. Three years in the…
The man who tried to convince Dallas parents he would build an academically rigorous private school for African-American children has instead landed in jail for fraud. Fred Hampton, whose Dallas Preparatory School was slated to open last week, was arrested in Houston August 8 on an outstanding warrant from Milwaukee…
Bloodsuckers In a recent Texas Observer (no relation to the Dallas Observer, to the relief of both sides), Dallas-based writer Rod Davis lamented that Texas is becoming a tough place to make a living as a serious writer. Rod said a lot of other important things about the “monopolistic tendencies…
Last Saturday, Dallas City Councilman Al Lipscomb was having one of those moments–and he’s had plenty this year–when he seemed flummoxed, flabbergasted, bewildered, and befuddled about the sensitive subject at hand. “This broadsided me, this one did,” he said uncomfortably. “It surely did.” He was, he said, very sad about…
Natural selection Thomas Korosec’s article [“Honky-tonk from hell,” August 8] was just what I needed. The idiots who drink and drive and then crash deserve nothing. Drink, drive, crash, burn, sue. Die you redneck white trash, die. As for the unlucky soul who got run down in the parking lot,…
It’s 5 a.m. on a Wednesday. Bobby Jack Pack opens his eighth can of Dr Pepper and slips it into a mint-green coozie. It’s still a few hours before Bobby–who keeps the hours of a B-movie vampire–will go to sleep. And today, Kelly Higgins, his writing partner, has shown up…
A baseball cap covers the closely cropped, strawberry-blond hair of Marc Alvarez, and a Nike logo pendant dangles from the gold chain around his neck. Baggy jean shorts hover below his hips, drooping toward his leather high-tops with their flashy stripes. Top to bottom, he looks more like a teen-ager…
Bartlett who? Sheesh, the promotions folks at D magazine, like most of the city, apparently don’t read D either. We were led to this unsurprising conclusion by their new bus ad campaign, which poses the question: “Where’s our arena?” Had they read D–official magazine for the rich and callous–about a…
