Austin to Marfa, a love connection

Sandlot baseball requires a certain amount of trash talk, and there was plenty of it at Parque Zaragoza earlier this month.

Austin's Texas Playboys were facing off against their favorite Texas rival: Marfa's Los Yonke Gallos. But despite the brash talk during the afternoon double-header, the competitors were chatting in the other side's dugout and the fans seemed to be cheering for both teams at once.

In fact, the amity seen at the East Austin baseball diamond reflects a larger camaraderie between the two communities, the effect of Austin's ongoing love affair with the tiny West Texas town of Marfa.

Take Austin architect Jack Sanders, the founder and captain of the Playboys. He's currently project manager of Marfa's El Cosmico, which is "part yurt and hammock hotel, part residential living, part art-house, greenhouse and amphitheater" and is the latest project of Liz Lambert, who was the creative force behind the Hotel San Jose and Jo's coffee house on South Congress Avenue and Hotel Saint Cecilia just off South Congress Avenue.

One of the reasons Sanders approached Marfa furniture designer Joey Benton about the possibility of a baseball game was because he believed Marfa's independent, "create your own fun" attitude would lend itself to the type of sandlot revolution the Playboys champion.

"Marfa has that type of attitude and Austin does, too; that's one of the similarities," Sanders says.

Benton was up for the challenge, putting together an eclectic team of Marfa natives and newcomers, many from or with ties to Austin. The first game took place during El Cosmico's festival in September 2007, when about 200 Austinites flooded Marfa, which has about 2,100 permanent residents, for a weekend of camping and outdoor music.

Lambert is one reason the trail to Marfa from Austin is so well worn.

Her family has ranch land near Marfa and she spent childhood summers in the area. Now, she has a second home on a ranch just outside of town, where she regularly hosts her Austin friends.
She's responsible for Austin-to-Marfa transplants such as Krista Steinhauer and Adam Bork, founders of Marfa's beloved mobile restaurant, the Food Shark. Steinhauer and Bork originally moved to Marfa in 2004 to work at the Thunderbird, the hotel Lambert spearheaded (it opened in 2005) but with which she's no longer affiliated.

Lambert is proud of making so many Marfa introductions. "I've taken everyone I've ever loved there. It's a gift," she says. But she refuses to take credit for the Austin-Marfa love connection.

"It's about the long drive, the changing landscape and the time to unwind," she says. "There are also many similarities between Austin and Presidio County. They are the only blue dots in an otherwise red state. There's a similar political and creative sensibility."

Migration from Austin

During the past few decades, the town, founded in the early 1880s as a railroad water stop, has solidified its reputation as an artistic enclave. Starting with the arrival of minimalist artist Donald Judd, who moved to Marfa in the 1970s, the arts scene has helped drive the development of high-caliber restaurants, music venues and hotels.

Of course, Austinites have been making the pilgrimage to Marfa long before it had fusion cuisine.

Larry Doll, an associate professor of architecture at the University of Texas, and his wife have been making regular trips since 1991. They built a house in Marfa in 2004.

For Doll, "any urban stress starts to peel away" when he hits Junction. "It's the remoteness that's a big part of the attraction," he says. "Plus, I never get tired of the art."

According to Joni Marginot, the director of the Marfa Chamber of Commerce, "the highest percentage of Marfa's tourists now comes from Austin." Marfa's tourism continues to reap the benefits of a steady stream of press coverage on Marfa as movie location, arts Mecca, destination film festival and gastronomic delight. But, for many Austin regulars to Marfa, it was other Austinites, not the media, who first got them there.

Austin education consultant Quality Quinn has been introducing her friends to Marfa since 1998, when she and her now former partner, criminal defense attorney Michael Maguire, purchased a home there. They hosted parties and fundraisers for Austin-based institutions.

In those days, recalls Quinn, the regular visitors and second-home owners were largely from Dallas and Houston. She attributes the influx of Austinites to the "people from Austin's creative culture who made Marfa spectacular, people including hotel owner Virginia Lebermann, Liz Lambert and Randy Franklin." (Franklin, the owner of Yard Dog Gallery on South Congress Avenue, opened Yard Dog Marfa in November 2007.)

"Marfa, like Austin, is one of the few places you can go where the price of inclusion is just showing up," Quinn says. "The drive from Austin falls in line with a staycation. You can just get in the car, drive out and experience the vastness, the high plains and the stars free of charge."

The pull of Marfa

But it's not just Austinites pressed for cash who are making the journey with more frequency.

"Just did a quick interview with the Austin American-Statesman on the relationship between Austin and Marfa, Texas. I miss Marfa!!!" wrote Lance Armstrong on his Twitter page, minutes after his phone interview for this article. Armstrong is renting a loft space in Marfa's historic Brite Building, where he plans to return for long weekends in the fall.

"There's no doubt that I'll be spending quite a bit of time there," says Armstrong. "Marfa is one of the simplest places I've ever been. And, for me, simple isn't always easy." Naturally, Armstrong is quick to mention that Marfa is a bike-friendly town, with nearby mountain trails and endless swaths of empty road. "It's safe to say you don't need a car there," he laughs.

For Armstrong, Marfa's charm also has to do with the similarities to Austin, where Armstrong spends the majority of his time when he's not training or racing.

"Austin and Marfa are both heavy on the arts," he says. "Of course, Austin is more about music and Marfa is more about the visual arts, but both places don't just happen by accident."

One of the people helping develop the arts scene is Lebermann, owner of the Thunderbird hotel and co-founder of Ballroom Marfa, a nonprofit space for contemporary art and culture in downtown Marfa.

"It's exciting to build on what Judd did here, to be involved with a culture that has such a rich history in railroad, ranching and art as its base," she says.

Lebermann, who grew up in Austin, has been visiting Marfa and the nearby Big Bend region since childhood. She's considered Marfa her home since 2002. And while the Thunderbird has always had a large number of Austin patrons, in the past couple of years, Lebermann has seen a marked increase in Ballroom's Austin members.

Part of the draw, she says, is its developing music program, featuring musicians such as Lyle Lovett, Billy Joe Shaver, Jeff Tweedy and Conor Oberst in intimate settings. The shows are reminiscent of Austin in the '70s and '80s.

"I remember seeing tiny, amazing shows in Austin when I was growing up," says Lebermann. "But now they're just all so massive."

The comparison between "old" Austin and "new" Marfa might be extreme, but it's one that's increasingly being made by the Austinites who escape to West Texas for a vacation or more permanent relocation.

"Marfa is a natural draw for people from Austin because it's like Austin used to be. It's where people go who don't want to live a Type A life," says Barbara Morgan, executive director of the Austin Film Festival, who's lived in Austin for 30 years.

Morgan first started traveling to the region more than 20 years ago and continues to make routine visits, including her annual trip to the Marfa Film Festival, which the Austin festival supports by trading film screenings and co-sponsoring events.

"West Texas people just do their own thing, which is the real foundation of how Austin used to be. It's that distinct personality that acts as a magnet for other people who have like personalities," she says. "So when Marfa became the art community town it was mirroring (old) Austin."

Other transplants say that ultimately they were tired of the congestion, the sprawl and the condos in Austin. They went to Marfa looking for a way of life, they say Austin has lost.

Karen Longshore, moved to Marfa in December 2007 after living in Austin for 13 years. It was what the 32-year-old, former Arthouse membership coordinator refers to as her winter of discontent.

"The day I decided to move to Marfa, I was riding my bike on Second Street, and this Hummer limo pulled out in front of me," says Longshore. "I was more tapped than hit, but my bike skidded and the girls in the Hummer, who were clearly on their way to a bachelorette party and probably had French pedicures, rolled down their windows and laughed." The Austin she'd fallen in love with had changed in a way that wasn't working for her.

"The only thing that's missing in Marfa is single men in deck shoes and summer sweaters," she says.

By all accounts, the Marfa dating scene and the Marfa job market are not ideal. It's why many young people, including 25-year-old Austin native Marie Ely, who moved to Marfa for a year in 2007, eventually leave. Ely first visited Marfa in 1999 and then, again, in 2003 with her parents, Sharon Ely and musician Joe Ely. "It was like an extremely simplified version of Austin," she remembers. "The people were friendly; there was music constantly happening and art-related events."

For her, the desert landscape and diverse inhabitants were worth working the three or four odd jobs she needed to make ends meet. Although now Marie Ely's life is largely a nomadic one, spent traveling with her boyfriend, artist Justin Lowe, she always makes a point of returning to Marfa.

"I have to go out to the desert, to the emptiness, to the nice people and great food. I need that kind of sanctuary and release of business and life in order to continue traveling around."

Thirty-nine-year-old Lance Webb has a unique perspective on Austin's love affair with Marfa.

Webb is a fourth-generation Marfan, who splits his time largely between Austin and Marfa and manages Joe Ely and the Flatlanders. He sees three groups of Austinites who make the 800-plus-mile circuit from Austin to Marfa and back again: younger folks struggling to make ends meet; the older, more established arts crowd with more discretionary time and resources; and the professionals who come up for the occasional three-day weekend.

"When I'm in Austin, being a native Marfan now seems to have status attached to it," he says. "My dad and grandparents would never have believed it because back in the day, if you told people you were from Marfa, they thought you were a hillbilly living in a wasteland."

Of course, Webb appreciates the attraction. Formerly the CEO of public trading software companies, he spent years living in Asia, but always made the pilgrimage home.

"I would sometimes get on a plane and fly from Tokyo to San Francisco to El Paso, then rent a car and drive to Marfa for 24 hours; that's how strong the pull was," he says. "I'd fly to Marfa and sit on the tailgate of a pickup and just look at the sky. It was always worth it, even for a day."
Tobin Levy is a freelance writer based in Austin and Marfa. She moved to Marfa in 2006. 

Source

Prosecutors seek to revive 'cold case' murder charge

Action by Texas' top criminal court Wednesday will give Travis County prosecutors one last chance to revive their case against Jimmie Dale White, a 58-year-old Austin man arrested in 2003 and charged with killing his roommate 17 years earlier.
White's murder charge was considered a major achievement for the Austin Police Department's cold case unit — at the time, it was the oldest unsolved case resulting in an arrest — but White never went to trial.
On New Year's Eve 2006, hours before retiring from the bench, state District Judge Jon Wisser announced that he had reluctantly dismissed White's murder charge because a fair trial was unlikely after the passage of so much time and the death of many witnesses who could have vouched for the suspect.
The Travis County district attorney's office appealed Wisser's decision to an intermediate court but lost.
On Wednesday, however, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals agreed to examine prosecution arguments that White's charge was improperly dismissed. There is no deadline for the appeals court to rule.
The decision keeps alive a case that has taken numerous twists and turns, including White's 1993 diagnosis with Lou Gehrig's disease, a fatal condition that attacks nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord. Prosecutors took White's health into account when launching their appeals, assistant district attorney Holly Taylor said.
"We feel the evidence is pretty clear that he did kill this victim," Taylor said. "It's certainly unfortunate he has ALS, but there is also an issue of justice for this victim and this community."
David Botsford, White's appellate lawyer, said Wisser was correct to dismiss the charge.
"Who's in a better position than the trial judge — given the evidence he heard and credibility of witnesses — to determine whether this man could receive a fair trial?" Botsford said.
The mystery began May 3, 1986, when an Austin patrol officer discovered the body of Michael DesJardins in a parking lot at 5550 N. Lamar Blvd. The 23-year-old had been shot in the head, chest and abdomen and dumped in the parking lot.
The investigation led detectives 1 1/2 miles north, to the home DesJardins shared with White at 1211 Dwyce Drive. According to court records, White said he and DesJardins had visited several gay bars the night before DesJardins' body was found, and that DesJardins had left in the company of a person he met at one of the bars.
The investigation stalled, but through the years, new information arose. According to White's 2003 arrest warrant:
• White told his sister that he killed a man in his house and dumped the body in a Lamar Boulevard parking lot. That information came from White's brother-in-law in 1990.
• Also in 1990, a family friend told police that White's sister once discussed cleaning blood from White's house while he drove away with a body.
• In 1996, a bar patron recalled a 10-year-old conversation in which an intoxicated White had mentioned wanting to kill DesJardins over a debt. White offered to pay the bar patron to help with the killing, police said.
No arrests were made because of a lack of evidence, police said.
The Police Department's cold case unit picked up the investigation in late 2002. Detective Rick Blackmore found additional witnesses, including White's former next-door neighbor, who recalled a late-night scuffle, one or more "popping" sounds and sudden quiet. Several days later, the suspicious neighbor phoned an anonymous tip into CrimeStoppers after reading about DesJardin's killing in the American-Statesman, court records show.
Police, fearing that White was preparing to flee after he placed a rush order for his first passport, arrested him 17 years and two days after DesJardins was killed. Efforts to reach White's trial lawyer, Doug Beeson, were unsuccessful. Beeson has said in the past that he thinks his client is innocent.

Source