I laughed out loud over your article on social climbing in Dallas – especially the “No-No’s” and “Yes-Yeses.” Thank you for making our weekend – we’ve shared the magazine with all our friends.
Mrs. Lyn Roberts
(formerly of Abilene, but not so I could
become a member of Junior League and
transfer it back to Dallas)
Shortly after Mrs. Hoblitzelle’s death in 1943, I took over management of Karl Hoblitzelle’s personal affairs as well as being his business associate. This included staffing and running his households in Dallas, at Cape Cod, and in the Rio Grande Valley.
The domestic staff was reasonably constant, but there were some comings and goings. I did the hiring, paying, and some firing; on a few occasions rescued one from the local constabulary, and have buried two of them. I still see the survivors as friends, and have since Mr. Hoblitzelle’s death.
So I knew them pretty well, and I never knew a Leon.
Maybe the writer meant Clarence Holder, Mr. Hoblitzelle’s masterful chef, a towering black man with more white teeth than Jimmy Carter and a culinary repertoire of extravagant proportions. The trouble with this supposition, though, is that Clarence wouldn’t be found in the Village Safeway store under any conditions. He did his business with Cecil Fisher (and I don’t mean one of Cecil’s clerks), and he did it by telephone.
Mr. Hoblitzelle wanted the staff to remain at his house for at least a year after he died. Following that period of readjustment, Clarence worked for the Erik Jonssons for a while, then retired to his own home surrounded by antiques collected during his extensive travels with Mr. Hoblitzelle. The house he bought is in close proximity to Simon David, but the Fisher truck can still be seen outside his kitchen door now and then.
He has probably had as many calls as I have about the mysterious Leon mentioned in the “Be Seen” glasses frames in your October issue.
Robert Lynn Harris
Under “Never Seat Them at the Same Table,” you listed myself and Mr. James W. Aston.
Let it be understood that I consider Mr. Aston to be one of the greatest citizens that Dallas has produced, and one of my close friends. I would be pleased to sit with him anytime, any place, and anywhere. And, for your information, we often do.
E.H. Cary, Jr.
I am enclosing a picture of our home. It has 5,000 square feet, 5 bedrooms, 4? baths, beautiful trees, a rolling terrain, a creek, and backs up to a country club golf course. I’m sure your A.C. Greene wouldn’t come near it because it happens to be on the wrong side of the river.
It was time for me to renew my subscription and I had written my check when I received your October issue, so I am enclosing my check (torn up) and telling you to forget renewal. I subscribed to your magazine at the very beginning but with your put-down in Social Climber’s Handbook who needs D (DUMB) Magazine?
My phone number begins with 374; shall I shoot myself?
Mrs. Earl Kindred
It outrages me to see D Magazine offering not D for Dallas but D for Divi-siveness.
Eighteen months ago, prior to moving from New York to Kessler Park in Oak Cliff, we encountered the real estate effort to undermine the desirability of living in Oak Cliff. We are mavericks, I suppose, as well as secure in our conviction that the salt flats north of the river aren’t fit for human existence. Within two weeks of our arrival we were witness to the truth of Stanley Marcus’ statement “Many people have come to Dallas from other parts of the country. They are always astounded by the warmth and hospitality they encounter here” (Minding the Store). Since then, I have embraced this city and given it my wholehearted support. I love Oak Cliff – and not just for its trees and roads carved out of its hills. I love its people. They are the ones who toil and volunteer and provide the lifeblood of Dallas. Notice, I said Dallas, not Oak Cliff. Why then are they repeatedly, either in overt or insidious ways, mocked and rendered socially and economically impotent?
Where is it written that this sort of invidious conduct is worthy and befitting not only of the Dallas community, but – in particular – of D Magazine?
Your past coverage featuring Dallas Founders, urban pioneering, The Salesmanship Club Boy’s Camp, to cite a very very few, were inspiring and informative accounts of meaningful action in Dallas. How then, does a magazine capable of such humanitarian and illuminating journalism stoop to single out Oak Cliff as a “Social No No” and thereby align itself with those who continuously challenge and impugn our pride not only as Dallasites, but in particular, as sentient and sensitive persons.
I realize your article was written with tongue-partially-in-cheek. I recommend that you now bite hard!
Concerning your latest article on “Social Climbing in Dallas,” I would like to comment on the number one “Don’t.” Since I am one of the many Dallas citizens (one third to be exact) who choose to live in Oak Cliff because of its scenic beauty and its accessibility to all of Dallas, I would like to thank D Magazine for giving the Oak Cliff people recognition for being above the typical social climbing activities. Since we have no one to please but ourselves, we will remain happy in beautiful Oak Cliff with our lower prices, less traffic, and no ladder to worry about climbing.
Amazing how in only 17 short pages you managed to squeeze in every name and establishment one simply “couldn’t say no to.” Looks as though D Magazine is doing a little social climbing of its own.
I find it very strange that you would accept my advertising dollars for space in your magazine and then in the same issue tell your readers that it is a “social no no” to buy their underwear at Titche’s. Statements of this quality are completely unnecessary and benefit no one.
Buyer, Sleepwear and Loungewear,
You have listed all possible needs of Social Climbing in Dallas with the exception of Proctologist. Perhaps your recent study qualifies D Magazine to practice this specialty.
More on SMU
Some of the things D Magazine pointed out in the article “Can SMU Get It Together?” (September) were factors in my own dissatisfaction with SMU, from which I transferred after one year. I received my B.A. from the University of Dallas at a fraction of the tuition, without the tiresome presence of the Greeks. It was a superior liberal arts school, to my mind. The “Editors’ Notebook” in the same issue called the University of Dallas an “upstart.” The program at my Alma Mater is dedicated to a principle of true education and academic excellence; in other words, we had to work. It was not an expensive babysitter for the progeny of the haute bourgeoisie. I am glad that someone is finally bringing the real SMU to the attention of Dallas. Dallas needs a large university to accommodate its mushrooming size. Perhaps the day of private institutions such as Southern Methodist University is over.
Mary Ellen Bret Harry
What does SMU have to cheer about, vou ask. The statistics provided in your recent article indicate that, with tuition income of $2,450 per student and endowment income of $185 per student, SMU provides a student with one year of college education at a cost lower than any of the other nine schools listed. I would suggest that SMU should be applauded for being so efficient as to offer quality education at this low price.
But is it high quality education that is being provided? Most students are in comfortable classes of 15-25 students led by professors trained at schools like Harvard, Yale, Berkeley, Chicago, etc. One could hardly ask for a better environment, especially for a mere $2,500. Most SMU graduates find fulfilling, well-paying jobs or continue their graduate or professional studies at schools like Duke, Johns Hopkins, Stanford, and Chicago. Again, one could hardly ask for better results from a college education.
John W. Goodwin, SMU ’74
We were disappointed to read your post-mortem reviews of Sam and Sherlock Holmes in your August and September issues. Both plays received poor reviews, yet both were popular, especially Sherlock Holmes, which played to full houses during its initial run and was brought back this fall to accommodate those who weren’t able to obtain tickets earlier.
While neither play could be considered a classic, both appealed to large audiences. If the reviewer compares every play he sees with those he considers the greatest ever written, he will be disappointed every time.
Obviously, it is not the critic’s job to necessarily agree with public opinion; however, when critic and public opinion are at such odds, it leads us to question the credibility of the critic. We do not suggest that every play be reviewed favorably, but simply that the reviews be more open-minded and balanced. After all, a play can be popular and at the same time be good drama.
David Dillon erred with his reference to Noguchi’s work at the Fort Worth National Bank in his “A Fort Worth Fantasist” (October).
Noguchi was commissioned to design the entrance plaza for the First National Bank of Fort Worth, which opened in 1961.
Gordon A. Crow
First National Bank of Fort Worth
Our New Look
Congratulations on your latest issue with its new face. I think the surgery came off quite well, and I think your magazine looks much more authoritative and interesting.
I wish you the best of luck in the continued growth of your publication.
Congratulations on the second anniversary of my favorite magazine.
However, you are not to be congratulated for your appalling choice of an Alaskan seal coat for first prize in the Celebration Sweepstakes.
Perhaps you don’t know (or worse, don’t care) about the cruel death these helpless animals must suffer in order to supply the “lucky winner” with a “beautiful, finest quality full-length seal coat.”
I urge you to reconsider your choice.
Add my name to the list of people who are congratulating D Magazine for Inside Dallas. It is beautifully done . . . and delivers, as promised, all the information you need to know Dallas. I hope the next time it’s printed, it will be twice as big!