Dream Bigger
Fine country for old men
I’ll be collecting second impressions of Stephenville next week, when I return to launch a month-long residency. In the meantime, here are a few first impressions:
Stephenville is surprisingly lush. I’ve visited Texas before, and lived in the West for years, so I know that in late spring and early summer (exactly when I made my first trip to Stephenville) even the most arid ground can be made temporarily green after a little rain hits — but before the oven is switched on and the inevitable browning sets in. Maybe the area around Stephenville is the exception to that browning, though, a verdant oddity in a dry land. Or maybe I’ve simply watched too many cowboy movies and instinctively think all of Texas looks like this. In any case, the town is undeniably pretty.
Getting to Stephenville is easy — but only after you’ve escaped the gravitational pull of the Dallas/Fort Worth “metroplex” (as the locals call it). On my first visit, I picked up a rental car at DFW and then set off to find U.S. Highway 377, which runs from Fort Worth south to Stephenville and, eventually, all the way to Mexico. After an hour of driving, I was still in the metroplex. It wasn’t until I crossed some invisible line just south of Fort Worth — beyond which all development apparently is forbidden — that the highway emptied and the drive became a pleasure cruise through ranch country. Within 45 minutes, I was in Stephenville.
If I wanted to be flip, I’d say Stephenville is 45 minutes and 50 years away from Fort Worth. But I would mean that in a good way. Its population of 15,000-plus doesn’t qualify Stephenville as a “Mayberry” kind of small town, but it’s got a sense of place and that cohesive feel of community which was common a half-century ago . Or to put it another way: Some towns can have the same chain stores and franchises as everywhere else, yet still feel distinctly unique. That’s Stephenville.
On my only (so far) night in Stephenville, I had dinner at a honky-tonk where it was all-you-can-eat enchilada night. Also, there was beer involved. Enough said.
Finally, and speaking of Westerns, here’s a photo of the Erath County courthouse in downtown Stephenville. It was completed in 1892, and still looks, both inside and out, like something you’d find in the movies. I imagine many a cattle rustler was brought to justice here.
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