Took part in a roundtable panel on the presidential primary season. I made a great Rick Perry joke.
“There were a couple of problems there. The back surgery, the painkillers and … well … I forget the other one.”
Brought down the house. If anyone remembers anything I said on that panel, it won’t be the analysis but the joke.
We got the chance to walk around downtown a bit. Here are a few signs from the area:
The Aztec opened in 1926. It cost $1.25 million, which would be something like $22.6 million today. You wonder what the owner thought a few years later when the Depression landed on him:
In response to competition from other theatres, a magnificent chandelier was commissioned and installed, in only 35 days, in the main lobby in 1929. Weighing over 2,000 pounds, this ornate, 2 story, 12 foot in diameter fixture was billed as “The largest chandelier in the largest state in the Union”.
This says something about the barber, or the client, or both:
We were trying to resolve the mystery when we noticed they also had a foosball table inside.
This sign isn’t old, but I love it like it was creaking from decades in the sun and wind:
This isn’t a sign, but I would like to point out that this is the level of ornamentation they’ve put into a parking garage:
This theatre, The Texas, competed with The Aztec:
Also built in 1926, in the Spanish Colonial and Rococo style, it cost $2 million. It closed in the 1970s and was razed a few years later. The facade, though, lives on as part of an office building. (More here and here and here.)
I love this, because it is a neon sign evocative of one of my favorite songs:
Today we had lunch at a place I’ll write about tomorrow. We had dinner on the River Walk, the touristy part. The enchiladas were good, though.
And now I must return to my notes. I have three panel sessions to participate in tomorrow.
