Thirty Six Hours in Austin

As I sit writing this, it is 70 degrees in the capital city of TX. I came here to do a story on the most controversial doctor in our day, from the perspective of English medicine, Dr. Andrew Wakefield. A paper published under his name (he was lead author) in the British medical journal Lancet in Feb. 1998, on the possible association between the MMR vaccine, gastrointestinal disease and developmental regression (i.e., autistic spectrum disorders) has not only received extensive scrutiny but, as a result of this scrutiny, has led to his being brought up on charges before England's General Medical Council--which has the power to "strike" a person from the medical register in England. The Council is expected to reach a decision on him later in 2009. I decided to make an overture to Dr. Wakefield personally in a meeting we attended together in Oct. 2008 to come to Austin, where he lives, to interview him on the controversy and events before and after the Lancet article. I had read extensively about him, but I noted that in every report I read none of the people had actually talked to him. I made the revolutionary decision actually to try to talk to a person before I passed judgment. So, I am in Austin. Over the space of three days I conducted about a dozen hours of interviews with him at three locations; I will be writing up my findings very soon....

Meanwhile, I have been in Austin, with a side trip to Dallas, for at least 36 hours. I entitle my essay as I do in order to imitate the now-noted New York Times method of blowing into, making the most of and then reporting on the chic/cool spots of a city that often doesn't get much press. I am afraid that I am neither cool nor the son of a cool man, but I do have eyes and ears, and I notice things about places I visit. So, for what it's worth, here are a few words on Austin, 2009.

Sunday Morning

As I write, I am sitting in a funky coffee shop named the "Hideout," located on Congress Ave. about five blocks south of the TX State Capitol Building. Abundant coffee shop options along this major drag exist, though the Starbucks outlets are closed on Sunday mornings. This is not, probably, because they want their employees to worship on Sunday mornings; it is, rather, probably because not as many people worship at Starbucks on Sundays to keep it open. I am grateful, for I wasn't looking forward to corporate bagels, neatly measured slices of lemon cake or too-expensive drinks whose names I can't keep up with. So I landed at the Hideout, a place which combines a sort of sixties funk with unmistakable signs of upward mobility. The couches, for example, are neatly upholstered; cushions are nicely laid out; walls are properly painted; paintings, with discreet small price tags, hang on the walls. But there is enough of the "sixties" feel--Indie music, half-dead bamboo-type plants growing in the entrance, a case with the required alternative newspapers and other signs of moderate left-leaning tendencies right by the front door. It was the perfect place to drink Odwalla, eat a bagel and let my life catch up with me before returning to the Northwest.

A Few Impressions of Austin

Like Madison, WI, Austin hosts a wonderfully impressive state capitol, along with a huge flagship state university, within eyeball and walking distance of each other. TX, renowned for its big things, has a truly stunning Capitol, built on the model of the US Capitol but, predictably, taller, with the rotunda rising 218 feet above the floor of the building. In the entry halls are the expected, poorly executed, and moralistic paintings, usually executed in the late 19th century, that tend to contribute to whatever mythology the state believes is most true about itself. Here you have a wounded Sam Houston, the tallest Texan, reclining and receiving the surrender of General Santa Ana in the war of independence from Mexico in the 1830s. Oregon, it seems to me, has another subdued people (native Americans), nobly surrendering things, too--always to the white guy who stands astride a horse or recumbs comfortably. Well, the Capitol is worth a look, if only to marvel at the terrazzo floors or the pictures of former TX governors ringing four floors of the circular center of the building. By studying the pictures, you learn more than you think--you learn, for example, why certain airports are so named in TX and you learn that the only Governor to serve two-nonconsecutive terms in TX history was a woman--in the 1920s and 1930s. The TX Legislature, I learned, only meets five months in a biennium, which sort of puts to the lie the argument that the OR legislature needs to move to annual sessions because it has so much to do. I also learned for the first time why the amusement park is called "Six Flags over TX," because TX has had "six flags" over it from the time of Spanish conquest to US control. Hm..maybe the last period is only temporary...

I had a few more minutes, and so I decided to venture out the north door of the Capitol and head towards the University of TX. I couldn't help it friends, but the song "The Yellow Rose of TX" kept ringing in my ears; I often burst into song, oblivious to whether anyone was listening nearby. I figured, however, that I would rather be caught dead on TX soil humming that ditty than showing off my book arguing for the abolition of the death penalty. The latter kind of argument doesn't make too much headway in these parts.

I came across a truly exceptional campus art museum as I crossed MLK, Jr. Boulevard--the Blanton Museum of Art. It took me several minutes actually to make it to the exhibits, since an overly helpful retired woman had to explain in detail how to activite the audio tour of paintings that you can carry along with you. She explained it with such great earnestness and completeness that I almost wanted to congratulate her for her performance rather than use the device. In fact, I didn't get to use it, because I never found any of the 29 marked paintings; I became entranced by some of the etchings on the second floor, and found myself thrown back into my knowledge of and learning about artistic developments in France in the mid-19th century. I was particularly interested in visiting an art museum on this day because it was the day Andrew Wyeth died; a controversial American author who is one of my favorites. The museum, rather than Starbucks, was my hall of worship for the day.

Entranced, then, with a kind of nimbus of good thoughts surrounding my mind, I quickly retreated to my $60 a night motel. Not New York Times standards, but fine for me. Actually, I much preferred it to my capacious and overly affected downtown Dallas hotel on Friday evening, which cost 4X as much and gave you two wakeup calls (spaced five minutes apart) but, otherwise, wasn't really as nice as my $60 gem.

Conclusion

So, I am returing to OR tonight, to see my loved ones and to return to a cold and gray mid-winter. The TX trip was just what I needed, in so many ways...

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