SAN ANTONIO — This city, largest Spanish-American community in the Western Hemisphere, has been transformed from a sprawling semi-slum to one of the show-places of North America.
The transformation has been gradual. At one time the only showplaces in San Antonio were the Alamo, birthplace of Lone Star State independence, and the ancient Mexican architecture surrounding it. But in recent years the city has undergone a transformation, culminating this year with Hemisfair '68, in which San Antonians have replaced a city slum with an attractive exhibit of Pan-American culture.
Its buildings, some of which will remain permanently are as beautiful as anything at Montreal's Expo '67. They range from the stately Texas pavilion, featuring a fountain illustrating the confluence of people, to the equally beautiful U.S. pavilion with its exhibits illustrating the confluence of America.
Inside the Texas pavilion is spread out the history of Texas, its people, the 26 nationalities that migrated to Texas — Germans, Czechs, Italians, Irish, Scotch, Greeks, the Negroes. It's a story not of cowboys, oil men and hard-fisted Dallas businessmen, but of plain people. You see their faces — weather-beaten faces, laughing faces, sorrowful faces; and the tools, the vehicles, the things they used to develop Texas. And you see the little towns, the rivers, the plains, the sands and the deep bayous of Texas.
In the U.S. pavilion is shown a film, controversial and criticized by some, of the history of the United States. Parts of it are not pleasant history — the robbing of the Indians, the stripping of our forests, the pollution of our streams, the slums, the small-town bigotry when Negroes move in, our great highways, and the traffic jams on those highways. It's a picture you don't ordinarily see at an exhibit calculated to instill pride. But it's a story that has to be faced.
Then there are the foreign pavilions, of which Mexico's probably ranks as the most attractive, with Bolivia and Spain next. And there is the Hall of Issues, where anyone can come in and tack up his thoughts or his challenge to society. The walls are covered with challenging placards on war and peace, the student revolt and racial unrest.
It was Rep. Henry Gonzalez who first conceived the idea of HemisFair.
"We've got to have a fair for the Americas," Gonzalez told Bill Sinkin, operator of a local department store chain. San Antonio merchants put up $8 million and the idea began to grow. Henry Gonzalez is the first Spanish-American congressman ever elected to the House of Representatives from Texas. (There have been Spanish-Americans from other states.) And it was Lyndon Johnson, then a senator, who stood on the tail end of a pickup truck to campaign for him and elect him.
Long before San Antonio had progressed this far, however. It had a dynamic mayor, Maury Maverick, who first conceived the idea of emphasizing the city's Spanish-American culture and who cleaned the tin cans, the rusting bedsprings, the old tires, out of San Antonio's river to make it a showplace of the Southwest.
Maury Maverick was the grandson of a Texas pioneer who gave his name in stray steers. His grandson also refused to stay within the political corral and went to Washington as a New Deal congressman where he played an intimate but little-known part in the life of a man who later was to become President of the United States.
It was Rep. Maury Maverick who first guided a young Texan named Lyndon Johnson when he came to Washington to be secretary for Rep. Richard Kleberg, part owner of the King Ranch, largest ranch in the world.
Later, when young Johnson got married and brought his wife to Washington, it was Mrs. Terrell Maverick, wife of the congressman, who took Lady Bird in tow. Lady Bird was a Southern belle who had never before left home and knew nothing about the intricacies of Washington, where to shop or even how to cook. Terrell Maverick showed her the ropes.
LBJ was a dynamo even at that age. He ran the office of Dick Kleberg with such drive that Mrs. Kleberg complained to her husband that young Lyndon was sure to go back to Texas and run against him. She demanded that Lyndon be fired.
Rep. Kleberg followed his wife's advise. Lyndon found himself out of a job, with Lady Bird weeping on Terrell Maverick's shoulder. The young couple had just come to Washington, established a home, now they were out of luck. It would be terrible to go back and face the home folks as failures.
At this point Rep. Maverick went to see his friend President Franklin Roosevelt and asked that Lyndon Johnson be made head of the Texas Youth Administration. Roosevelt was skeptical. He had a lot of Texans to worry about. They were assertive politicians and he didn't want to offend them. So he specified that Maverick would have to get the endorsement of Vice President Jack Garner, speaker Sam Rayburn, Sen. Tom Connally, and Sen. Morris Sheppard.
Maverick had no great trouble getting the endorsement of Vice President Garner, and Sens. Connally and Sheppard. But Sam Rayburn was reluctant.
In later years Lyndon Johnson had said that Sam Rayburn was the greatest Texan of them all. He has extolled Sam as if he were a deity. Perhaps Lyndon never knew how Sam opposed him. Or perhaps he is forgiving.
At any rate, Lyndon's father, Sam Johnson, had been a member of the Texas legislature when a scandal broke regarding Sen. Joe Bailey. Bailey had received a fee from Standard Oil Co. and Sam Johnson, among others, voted to have Bailey recalled from the Senate. Sam Rayburn had voted for Bailey. And he didn't like giving a job to the son of a man who had opposed him in the Bailey battle.
Maury Maverick, however, was eloquent. In the end he got Sam Rayburn's endorsement. That was how Lyndon Johnson got a new job as Texas Youth Administrator, after being fired from his first job in Washington. If he hadn't received that new job, Lyndon B. Johnson might not be President of the United States today.
Note: LBJ's Texas critics point out that when Maury Maverick Jr., son of LBJ's benefactor, came up for appointment as a U.S. judge, President Johnson turned him down. Maverick, questioned by this column, said he withdrew his name, that he didn't want to be a judge.
The transformation has been gradual. At one time the only showplaces in San Antonio were the Alamo, birthplace of Lone Star State independence, and the ancient Mexican architecture surrounding it. But in recent years the city has undergone a transformation, culminating this year with Hemisfair '68, in which San Antonians have replaced a city slum with an attractive exhibit of Pan-American culture.
Its buildings, some of which will remain permanently are as beautiful as anything at Montreal's Expo '67. They range from the stately Texas pavilion, featuring a fountain illustrating the confluence of people, to the equally beautiful U.S. pavilion with its exhibits illustrating the confluence of America.
Inside the Texas pavilion is spread out the history of Texas, its people, the 26 nationalities that migrated to Texas — Germans, Czechs, Italians, Irish, Scotch, Greeks, the Negroes. It's a story not of cowboys, oil men and hard-fisted Dallas businessmen, but of plain people. You see their faces — weather-beaten faces, laughing faces, sorrowful faces; and the tools, the vehicles, the things they used to develop Texas. And you see the little towns, the rivers, the plains, the sands and the deep bayous of Texas.
In the U.S. pavilion is shown a film, controversial and criticized by some, of the history of the United States. Parts of it are not pleasant history — the robbing of the Indians, the stripping of our forests, the pollution of our streams, the slums, the small-town bigotry when Negroes move in, our great highways, and the traffic jams on those highways. It's a picture you don't ordinarily see at an exhibit calculated to instill pride. But it's a story that has to be faced.
Then there are the foreign pavilions, of which Mexico's probably ranks as the most attractive, with Bolivia and Spain next. And there is the Hall of Issues, where anyone can come in and tack up his thoughts or his challenge to society. The walls are covered with challenging placards on war and peace, the student revolt and racial unrest.
It was Rep. Henry Gonzalez who first conceived the idea of HemisFair.
"We've got to have a fair for the Americas," Gonzalez told Bill Sinkin, operator of a local department store chain. San Antonio merchants put up $8 million and the idea began to grow. Henry Gonzalez is the first Spanish-American congressman ever elected to the House of Representatives from Texas. (There have been Spanish-Americans from other states.) And it was Lyndon Johnson, then a senator, who stood on the tail end of a pickup truck to campaign for him and elect him.
Long before San Antonio had progressed this far, however. It had a dynamic mayor, Maury Maverick, who first conceived the idea of emphasizing the city's Spanish-American culture and who cleaned the tin cans, the rusting bedsprings, the old tires, out of San Antonio's river to make it a showplace of the Southwest.
Maury Maverick was the grandson of a Texas pioneer who gave his name in stray steers. His grandson also refused to stay within the political corral and went to Washington as a New Deal congressman where he played an intimate but little-known part in the life of a man who later was to become President of the United States.
It was Rep. Maury Maverick who first guided a young Texan named Lyndon Johnson when he came to Washington to be secretary for Rep. Richard Kleberg, part owner of the King Ranch, largest ranch in the world.
Later, when young Johnson got married and brought his wife to Washington, it was Mrs. Terrell Maverick, wife of the congressman, who took Lady Bird in tow. Lady Bird was a Southern belle who had never before left home and knew nothing about the intricacies of Washington, where to shop or even how to cook. Terrell Maverick showed her the ropes.
LBJ was a dynamo even at that age. He ran the office of Dick Kleberg with such drive that Mrs. Kleberg complained to her husband that young Lyndon was sure to go back to Texas and run against him. She demanded that Lyndon be fired.
Rep. Kleberg followed his wife's advise. Lyndon found himself out of a job, with Lady Bird weeping on Terrell Maverick's shoulder. The young couple had just come to Washington, established a home, now they were out of luck. It would be terrible to go back and face the home folks as failures.
At this point Rep. Maverick went to see his friend President Franklin Roosevelt and asked that Lyndon Johnson be made head of the Texas Youth Administration. Roosevelt was skeptical. He had a lot of Texans to worry about. They were assertive politicians and he didn't want to offend them. So he specified that Maverick would have to get the endorsement of Vice President Jack Garner, speaker Sam Rayburn, Sen. Tom Connally, and Sen. Morris Sheppard.
Maverick had no great trouble getting the endorsement of Vice President Garner, and Sens. Connally and Sheppard. But Sam Rayburn was reluctant.
In later years Lyndon Johnson had said that Sam Rayburn was the greatest Texan of them all. He has extolled Sam as if he were a deity. Perhaps Lyndon never knew how Sam opposed him. Or perhaps he is forgiving.
At any rate, Lyndon's father, Sam Johnson, had been a member of the Texas legislature when a scandal broke regarding Sen. Joe Bailey. Bailey had received a fee from Standard Oil Co. and Sam Johnson, among others, voted to have Bailey recalled from the Senate. Sam Rayburn had voted for Bailey. And he didn't like giving a job to the son of a man who had opposed him in the Bailey battle.
Maury Maverick, however, was eloquent. In the end he got Sam Rayburn's endorsement. That was how Lyndon Johnson got a new job as Texas Youth Administrator, after being fired from his first job in Washington. If he hadn't received that new job, Lyndon B. Johnson might not be President of the United States today.
Note: LBJ's Texas critics point out that when Maury Maverick Jr., son of LBJ's benefactor, came up for appointment as a U.S. judge, President Johnson turned him down. Maverick, questioned by this column, said he withdrew his name, that he didn't want to be a judge.
Drew Pearson, Ocala Star Banner, July 14, 1968
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