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HOUSTON: IS THIS THE SKYLINE OF A WORLD-CLASS CITY?
A few weeks back I asked Texican readers to send me some queries they had about Houston pop culture, past and present. I underestimated how far back you wanted me to go into the wayback machine, or how much you guys seemed to have been waiting to express some pretty heady topics.
Luckily, I was able to tackle a handful of queries to be worth everyone’s while. Send more questions and I will see what I can muster. Houston has a unique history and attitude, and that came out in the e-mail I received.
Also, it seems that a lot of parents were fond of the name Larry last century. To be honest, they aren’t making many Craigs anymore either. Why do some residents insist on calling Houston a worldclass city? I can understand shilling for the home team, but as a 64-year-old native who has lived in Asia, crisscrossed Mexico and visited Europe four times, I always roll my eyes when some local yokel proclaims Houston to be one. I’m not saying it’s a dump, but a world-class city? Save your pennies and travel outside Harris County for once in your life.
Larry from Houston (No. 1)
Cue the angry mob ready to find Larry. But let’s get real for a second.
I think Houston has acquired a mighty large chip on its shoulder. We don’t like being called anything but first class because it goes against the agreed-upon party line.
We have pride in what we are and what we do, and sometimes that means we can’t see the city for what it is and we ignore its dramatic faults. I have found that most people who fly the flag of Houston supremacy — with not a drip of irony — haven’t really explored much, like you seem to have.
That said, I do wish Houston would go back to not aspiring to overtake or emulate other cities. Sure, we can learn from what is working in other cities, but some things just don’t work here and vice versa. We are progressive in many, many ways but very regressive in others.
At the end of the day, this is home, and I still love it even when the traffic sucks, the weather is bad and our sports teams are garbage. We’re in this together, after all.
I’ve been living and working in Houston for 12 years. I’ve been working in downtown and living in Midtown for 10 of those years. I still can’t figure out where is the 0000/0000 address (e.g., State Street and Madison Avenue in Chicago). I asked a coworker who is a native and whose mother retired from the Postal Service. He didn’t know either. My best guess is somewhere in the area of Washington Street and Houston Avenue.
Larry from Houston (No. 2)
I contacted the media relations representative for the USPS here in Houston, who directed me back to the Postal Service’s website. I searched for a “0000” or “00000,” which is what I think you mean. Didn’t find anything, which likely means in Houston we just don’t start at zero.
While I was tooling around looking at ZIP codes, I did discover that the area that comprises Discovery Green and the George R. Brown Convention Center has its own 77010 ZIP code. Greenway Plaza has its own as well, 77046.
Also, you can address Houstonbound mail to Clutch City instead of plain ’ol boring Houston, and it will still get where it’s going.
Does anyone in Houston have a Houston Signage Graveyard, kind of like what the
Neon Museum does in Las Vegas with all that city’s famous signs?
Becca from Houston
There is definitely a need for this, if any signs could be found.
Downtown visitors and residents might notice the sweet Roll-N Saloon sign currently residing in the parking lot of the Lone Star Saloon. Roll-On was a notable dive bar at 4200 San Felipe, where The Railyard has since set up shop. I have heard that there have been cash offers on the sign but that Lone Star won’t budge.
But a wonderland of old Houston signage would be amazing. A place we could walk through, like in Las Vegas, and learn about Houston history and advertising design all at once. I do remember writing a story in May 2018 about some of Houston’s most memorable signage, The Colorado Bar & Grill’s epic neon sign leading the pack.
Installed in 1966, the big, illuminated rotating “Gulf” sign on the old Gulf Oil Building (now the JPMorgan Chase Building) lorded over downtown, to the chagrin of art critics and purists. It was removed in 1975 and would make a great entry into a Houston Signage Museum. Sadly, according to a 2001 Houston Chronicle piece by the inimitable Allan Turner, its porcelain panels were used to construct a barn the location of which has been lost to history.
I grew up in Westbury as a teenager in the early ’70s. The drinking age back then was 18, but being my friends and I were 16 and 17, we would travel to Montrose where the bars didn’t check IDs. Actually, most bars back then didn’t check. We liked Montrose because the vibe was still hippie-ish. These were hole-in-the wall places. One was even an old house. I don’t remember any of these bars by name or even where they were but would be great to know. One night a guy invited us back to his apartment for a little smoke. He had all these fish tanks covered with sheets. We thought it was kind of weird. When he uncovered them, there were a bunch of reptiles, including a huge snake. Turns out he worked at the Houston Zoo. It kinda freaked us out, and we didn’t stay very long.
Karee from Houston
I have nothing to add to this; it’s just awesome and it makes me — and no doubt many of you — yearn for old Houston weirdness. Even weirdness that I wasn’t yet alive to experience. No doubt someone less interesting lives where Mr. Creepy Snake Man resided.
Got more questions for The Texican? Send them to preview@chron.com or drop him a line at craig.hlavaty@gmail.com.