Who should be immortalized in statues in Houston’s public places?
Determination exhibited by figures such as Jordan, Olajuwon and Kranz make them worthy candidates
A.J. Foyt won the Indianapolis 500 four times, but my enduring memory of Foyt isn’t inside his car. It came during the 1982 Indy 500 when he was forced to pit twice in a short spell.
The Houston native emerged from his car, pulled off his gloves and helmet and — frustrated with his pit crew — started working on his malfunctioning machine himself.
“I’m sure his temperature is pretty close to two-twelve right now,” one of the commentators said.
The moment was funny but also telling about his character. A driver wins the race each year. But how many of the all-time greats got so flustered midrace that they unbuckled and did their own repairs?
That’s how I’d envision this Houston legend were he to be bronzed: an unwavering testament to competence and impatience, certainly, but also determination.
These aren’t boom times for statues, in case you didn’t hear. Confederate statues have been coming down nationwide, which causes me no sadness. Others have found the practice problematic for, they claim, historical preservation. I’m reminded that though Catholics weren’t into worshiping idols, they did start placing statues in churches for those who could not read or write.
I’ll leave history to the books. But statues have become a thing, and a strange cultural one at that.
A statue can pull the curious pedestrian across a street. It also can be a planned destination. Ideally, statues would represent some ideal that resonates in a community. They certainly serve as a salve of sorts for those who connect with the tragically departed.
Those who visit the Selena statue in Corpus Christi do so knowingly. Same with the statue of sniper Chris Kyle in Odessa. The Buddy Holly statue is a destination in Lubbock, which is also home to artist/musician Terry Allen’s life-size bronze of barbecue master Christopher B. “Stubbs” Stubblefield, who perhaps doesn’t have the same recognition — particularly outside Texas — as Holly.
Blues enthusiasts have long talked about Houston needing a statue honoring Sam “Lightnin’ ” Hopkins, a Centerville native, who was a musical fixture here. He has a statue already in Crockett, which claimed Hopkins as part of a tradition of traveling blues players who frequented smaller towns across East Texas.
Stevie Ray Vaughan was a Dallas native, but Austin still staked a strong claim to his career, which is why he stands on the city’s Auditorium Shores.
Austin also proved one doesn’t need to be in the boneyard to be bronzed. The city unveiled its Willie Nelson statue on Second Street in 2012.
The 8-foot, 1-ton Nelson proves deep history isn’t a necessary prerequisite. Nor is reality. Philadelphia has Rocky. Minneapolis has Mary Tyler Moore. Cultural pride carries weight, too.
So who and what could various statues represent in Houston?
Among the living
A statue of former football star Vince Young might remind of the insularity of college existence. And when school is over, life can be rough. A bronze of the great singer Johnny Nash — who gave voice to “I Can See Clearly Now” — might counter that, indeed, life is rough, but get past the obstacles and you’ll find a bright, bright sunshiny day.
Nolan Ryan pummelling Robin Ventura is an image plenty of Houstonians appreciate, especially since Ryan spent 198088 in Astros stripes. But that statue belongs in Arlington. Ryan is also cast at Alvin Community College.
Boys Town in Omaha has a famous “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother” statue. Houston could do its own play on that theme with Béla Károlyi carrying Kerri Strug. Or city native Patrick Swayze hoisting Jennifer Grey. Either could be cast with empty arms allowing visitors to play the part of the carried. That might carry liability issues.
Locals would rally around Hakeem Olajuwon. Champion? Check. Immigrant? Check. And his turnaround fadeaway jumper was indefensible, which is as close to a superhero power as a mortal could hope to achieve.
Ninfa Laurenzo represents a self-made success story, turning a taco stand into a successful restaurant business. She’s also a Mama of invention, credited with creating fervor for the fajita.
Arcane, perhaps, but I’d love to see a sculpture of Shelley Duvall screaming through an axwracked door. Sometimes you chase the day, but sometimes the day chases you.
Among the departed
Sam Houston? Logical, yes, and also representative of the great American art of reinvention. That said, there are a few stone depictions of him already.
DJ Screw is testament to taking a known art form and finding unknown sounds within. He also could stand as a reminder to slow things down. Just not too slow.
Free Press Houston commissioned a statue of comedian Bill Hicks. The last word on its status was in December 2014, though. The caustic comedian was among the most influential in his line of work, but he died in 1994 at only 32 years old. That statue could say something about speaking truth to power. It could also echo a Duvall/“The Shining” statue: Sometimes the day chases you.
Walter Cronkite wasn’t a native Houstonian but spent formative years of his youth here. He certainly represents some lost ideal of balancing information and trust.
I like the idea of a bronzed Gene Kranz, the no-nonsense flight director at NASA who, after the Apollo 1 disaster, served up the “tough and competent” slogan to urge his colleagues to put a man on the moon.
Barbara Jordan is an obvious choice, a civil rights activist whose distinguished political career helped her assemble a lengthy list of credits that spills over with firsts.
Jesse Jones seems pretty well represented with buildings bearing his name. The same could be said of a handful of other big-name Houston natives and settlers.
Real estate doesn’t come wired with many romantic notions, but John Kirby Allen and Augustus Chapman Allen probably deserve some consideration in this conversation.
So who gets immortalized?
I keep coming back to Foyt doing his job and others. He wasn’t going to win that race in 1982. But damned if he was going to let others keep him from finishing.
That’s determination, which stands as a uniting theme among some of the more serious possibilities for bronzing in Houston: Jordan, Olajuwon, Kranz.
It can be found elsewhere, too, in a city that has — for better and worse — often put “could we?” ahead of “should we?”
Howard Hughes — who by many accounts had little good to say about his hometown — developed a giant flying transport boat.
Dr. Denton Cooley, creator of the bionic heart, extended human lives, though in doing so raised some ethical questions. Regardless, his work resonated far outside Houston.
Judge Roy Hofheinz helped bring Major League Baseball to Houston, and then managed to subject it to (or bless it with) climate control. Debate the pros and cons of that as you will, but it proved revolutionary and influential.
And what about Tom Ball? A lawyer, banker and eventually congressman, he decided a landlocked city could be a port.
Now, that’s determination.