Too Late for the “Austin Worth Keeping” Festival

Thanks to the H.E.B. grocery chain, the “Keep Austin Weird Fest” had its 8th annual go-round.  Viewing photos of people (I think) arrayed in various versions of weirdness, I began reflecting on Austin, as a home of the weird.

My long-time Austinite impression is that most people, especially newbies, think Austin has always been a hotbed of funkiness, live music, and zany characters.  The truth is that Austin’s longer history has been that of “Sleepy College Town, U.S.A.,” by which I mean laid back, unexciting, and not especially unique, at least not in the “weirdness” department.  Admittedly, we’ve  had folks like “Bicycle Annie” who eccentrically pedaled her mental illness along the public streets, but every town has an Annie or two.  They keep us thanking our good fortune.

World class festivals like SxSW and ACL are of recent vintage.  The most exciting event for many years was the Austin Aqua Festival – an event that took our minds off of August heat and humidity.  The big draw was the noisy drag boat races on Town Lake, but there were also skiing contests, water parades, beauty pageants, and a “Battle of the Bands,” a competition among our decidedly “unweird” local bands.

Aqua Festival entertainment also featured a showcase for local citizens to perform their talent on a stage before a local audience on the shores of Festival Beach.   After all these years, I’m still awed by how persuasive my guitar teacher – Austin’s legendary Wayne Wood – must have been to get me on that stage with another student, Claudia, co-sufferers of fourth-grade girl timidity.  Needless to say, our fellow-Austinites did not get even a whiff of weirdness as we performed the popular folk hit Green, Green in our matching gray skirts, white blouses, and saddle shoes.   We oozed apple pie in small town America.

And Westlake Hills in the mid-60s wasn’t just laid back…it was practically prone, barely stirring from its rustic rurality.  Two riding stables on either side of Bee Caves Road allowed those of us living within walking distance to own horses or rent rides easily.  Bee Caves was not the virtual parking lot it is today. . . traffic was light enough that horseback riders could ride along the shoulders of the road without their mounts being spooked.  And nearby trails and pastures lay open for long rides and gallops where various offices, shopping venues, and Barton Creek Mall now sprawl.  For after-school snacks, my sister and I would run over to Beard’s Grocery on Bee Caves where Mrs. Beard would write down our purchases and add them to a tab my mother would pay at month’s end.

Back in March, 2000, American Statesman humorist, John Kelso described what he remembered about “old” Austin, defining “old” as being the 1970s and “before cappuccino and dot-com were in the vocabulary” of Austinites.  He waxed nostalgically about times before the onslaught of national chains:  “Where Wendy’s now sells square burgers on S. Lamar Blvd., a trashy little combination beer joint and live music club called the Split Rail once attracted a mix of hippies and cowboys, brought together by an appreciation of country rock and getting loaded.”  Looking back on pre-1980s Austin, he said: “Sixth Street had clubs, but they were mostly beer joints with jukeboxes, pool tables, and personalities . . . the major smog problem was the cloud of pot smoke that wafted out back of Spellman’s, a long-gone hangout on West Fifth Street.”

Responding to Kelso, my former classmate, Ben Wear (the Statesman’s current transportation columnist), wrote a piece entitled,  “Austin’s good old days really weren’t that good.”  From his “true old-timer’s perspective,” he said, “Austin in the 1960s and early 1970s was pretty laid-back.  But, it was also really, really boring . . . pretty much Omaha with trees.”  My own memory corresponds with Ben’s on several points, including Sixth Street:   “. . . aside from those seedy . . . bars Kelso looks back on with so much fondness, Sixth Street night life was mostly confined to the Pecan Street Café and a corps of transvestite prostitutes who hung out on nearby corners.”   About Austin dining establishments, Ben noted, “There were maybe 20 restaurants worth mentioning, about half of which served Tex-Mex that all seemed to be cooked by the same guy.”  Kelso’s “off-the-wall Austin,” Ben concluded, is a “mythical place” that began with the decision “to turn an old armory south of the river into longnecks-and-longhair heaven.”

Ben and I diverge a bit on the college bar scene.  He only remembered the “. . . Hole in the Wall on the Drag and two uptown places on 15th called the Blue Parrot and Rick’s American Bar where you could listen to a guy named Bernie sing and play a white baby grand.”  But, I frequented the Chequered Flag on 15th and Lavaca where you could hear Michael Martin Murphey, B.W. Stevenson, and Willie Nelson, and dance clubs on East Riverside catering to the college students beginning to populate the area.  And Ben never found the Hungry Horse on San Jacinto where a local group called Jabbernow channeled the Grateful Dead and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and a bit of Young on Thursday nights.   Very nice, laid-back, and unweird.

Reflecting on the “Keep Austin Weird” movement, I wonder what Austin we are striving to keep?  Sure, we want to keep our Split Rails, Armadillos, Hungry Horses, and the other local businesses that make Austin special, but we let most of them slip through our fingers long ago.  We’ve allowed our open areas to be paved over by restaurant chains, malls, and other developers into a sad Starbuck’s sameness.  At some point, we decided not to be the boring Sleepy College Town, U.S.A. and signed up for the big city, progressive way.  But, the more Austin has run from those boring, laid-back years in search of this thing called progress, the more boring it has become.  Now, with a few exceptions, all we have left are a bunch of people dressing up as if it were Halloween.  The Austin worth keeping has already faded away.

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About nowandthenadays

Observer of life who writes about Austin, women's issues, history, and politics. I retired as a Texas Assistant Attorney General after almost 40 years in state government in May, 2013.
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5 Responses to Too Late for the “Austin Worth Keeping” Festival

  1. Carrie says:

    I know this piece is a few years old, but I thought I would comment anyway.

    I was with you until your last three sentences. I agree, like every other American city’s fringes, suburban Austin has jettisoned its formerly open areas into parking lots and “sad Starbucks sameness.” However, I believe that in recent years the core has attempted to reinvent itself as a walkable place with local restaurants, shops, and flavor. It might not be the same as it once was, but I think it is anything but boring; it is vibrant, welcoming, and fun.

    Secondly, I would not place the blame on the “big city” or on the “people dressing up as if it were Halloween.” Rather, I think that we should reflect on our dependence on the car, on its supposed convenience, and on its appetite for wider highways, parking spaces, and big box stores. That paved space is devouring Austin’s natural context and sense of place.

    • Carrie, I won’t disagree with the downtown area being reinvented…but it’s not “weird” or iconic in any particular way. You could find the same downtown in a lot of other cities. Downtown if very walkable, indeed, but it presents various difficulties for anyone who doesn’t already live downtown, i.e., parking!! I agree with you about the car…but the real iconic place were never out in the suburbs (well, maybe Soap Creek Saloon) and there are ways around total destruction, e.g., Broken Spoke. I read an interesting book (I think it was by Michael Harrington) who contends that everything wrong in America can be blamed on the car, e.g., sexual promiscuity among teenagers, social alienation, and urban sprawl. Please comment any time on any blog entry… enjoy hearing other thoughts.

  2. Ruthie says:

    You brought back memories. Thanks!

  3. Mike says:

    Chequered Flag! I saw Frummox there, and Robert Klein, and Judy Tenuta.

    I only came to Austin full-time in January 1971. Looking back on it now, it all was so innocent. I feel very Proustian, trying to mentally recapture that lost time.

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