Archive for the Journo tales Category


30 Years Later — Remembering the Horrific Triple Murder at Lake Waco

WARNING – THIS IS A SERIOUS POST If I think about Waco for any amount of time, dark memories come flooding back, especially about the murder of three teenagers at Lake Waco. The first time I ever felt the presence of evil, I was snooping around Koehne Park, wondering if there really was a crime […]

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Capt. Buttface and Waco’s Pink House

Capt. Buttface lived in a Pink House. It was owned by Mr. Finn, who was not really a slumlord per se, but close enough for Waco, Texas. The Finn House was an old, two-story wooden affair. It was near enough to the county hospital that you could always hear the sirens. And it was close […]

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Ain’t No First Amendment in Singapore, White Boy

After two years on the Waco Tribune-Herald, I needed OUT of Waco and INTO an adventure. So I fled the Heart of Texas and got a job with a brand new paper in Singapore, a dynamic nation-state that was big on business but not so much on freedom of the press. Hello, culture shock. The […]

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Fear and Loathing in Waco

“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” — Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo Journalist   You cannot imagine how important the good doctor was to me 30 years ago. After a mind-numbing night shift at the Waco Trivial-Herald, covering “TNDs and misdemeanor murders”, I’d limp home to my cockroach-infested apartment, drink mass quantities […]

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Capt. Buttface and the Lake Waco Moon Cricket

Call me Ishmael. Put Muddy Waters on the stereo. Throw in about 900 cases of Pearl beer, Lake Waco, and the yellow Moon Cricket. And our sailing story can begin. It was the early 1980s, and I was the new $185-a-week, night-side police reporter for the Waco Tribune-Herald.

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Wilt Chamberlain and H. Ross Perot: The Long and Short of My Journalism Career

I must have interviewed a thousand people during my years in the journalism trenches. The most famous would’ve been *Wilt Chamberlain and H. Ross Perot — the long and short of my journalism career. Ahem. Fact: if you stood this blog on Perot’s shoulders, we’d almost be able to look Wilt in the eye.

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