HOUSTON is an ungainly beast of a city,
confused by overdevelopment during the oil boom and
then traumatized by the sudden slump of the early 1980s.
It's a suffocating place, choking with traffic and high
on humidity, yet for all this, its sheer energy, its
relentless Texan pride, and above all its refusal to
take itself totally seriously, give it a perverse appeal,
while its well-endowed museums and rich nightlife mean
there is always something to do. That Howard Hughes
came from Houston makes absolute sense; eccentric, domineering
and sordid, the millionaire typified all that makes
the city intriguing.
There
is no good reason why Houston exists at all; it was
founded on a muddy mire in 1837 by two brothers from
New York who hoped it would become the capital of the
new Republic of Texas. For all their wild claims about
its potential as a port, and its (imaginary) urban attractions,
the more promising site of Austin was made capital in
1839. However, by then Houston had somehow established
itself as a commercial center. Oil - discovered in 1901,
and, like the city itself, unpredictable and heading
for obsolescence - became the foundation, along with
cotton and real estate, of vast private fortunes. Among
the most famous of the philanthropists responsible for
the development of downtown Houston was the cruelly
named Ima Hogg. Her city improvement projects were largely
cosmetic, however, and the contradictions of urban life
are still writ large here, where abject poverty (not
least among the blacks who migrated here from the rural
South in the 1960s) coexists with ostentatious wealth.
It's
demoralizing and unwise to try and see too much of Houston
in one go; best to concentrate on downtown or the Museum
District , which can be walked around at leisure. Houston's
human face is most evident in the Montrose area, on
the way to yuppification but still home to eccentrics
and bohemians.
