$2.25 I OPENI G THE EYES OF TEXAS FOR FIFTY TWO YEARS FEBRUARY 9, 2007 TheTexas Observer

TRIBUTES TO MOLLY IVINS BY:

Ronnie Dugger 6

Kaye Northcott 8

Bernard Rapoport 10

Carlton Carl 12

Gary Cartwright 13

Sissy Farenthold 15

Jim Hightower 16

Bud Shrake 17

Adam Clymer 18

Adam Hochschild. 19

Ben Sargent 20

Myra MacPherson 21

Dan Rather 22

Naomi Shihab Nye 24

Steven Fromholz 26

Dave Richards 27

Richard Aregood 29

Garrison Keillor 32

Mark Russell 33

Signe Wilkinson 33

Ellen Sweets 34

James K. Galbraith 36

Douglas Foster 37

Anthony Zurcher 39

Maya Angelou 40

Anne Lamott 41

Molly's Beloveds 44

Bill Moyers 47

Right: Molly and Observer Founding Editor Ronnie Dugger in 2004. photo by Alan Pogue Texas Thanksgiving

hen Molly Ivins parked her Mercury folk and how well it was serving big bidness, she could wrap "that would only go forward" in front her arms around her readers and escort them all the way of the offices of The Texas Observer through hell and back to explain what was being done to in 1970, she was young, tough, them and how to better stand up to make it right. And you tall, and brilliant, an incredible didn't feel browbeaten or lectured to. You felt invigorated, work in progress. Molly and Kaye empowered, and highly entertained. You knew there was hope Northcott inaugurated the second generation of Observer for change because Molly had you laughing at the ridiculous editors (with Greg Olds providing some transition). The world of politics. era of the Observer's founding fathers, whom LBJ feared You can't laugh if you don't see a little light around the edges. and derided as "the boys down at the Observer"—Dugger, Unlike most political humorists, Molly's humor wasn't snide or Morris, Brammer, Goodwyn, Sherrill—had given way closed or clever. It was open and generous. She only picked on to two women who had come of age in the '60s. Pairing the powerful. And there were no inside jokes. She brought the Molly Ivins with Texas politics was an inspired act. reader inside so we could laugh together at the foolishness and Molly found her voice at the Observer. She found it in beer greed of the many who have wielded (and continue to wield) joints and private clubs where the state's business was done power in this laboratory of bad government. And together, we after hours. Where she could go toe-to-toe with Bob Bullock could collaborate to make this a better world. and wake up the following morning and file her story. Like After half a dozen years of raising the ante for journalism in Samuel Clemens listening to riverboat pilots and deckhands Texas—helping us and others see our better and worse selves— running the Mississippi, she listened to the good old boys and Molly moved on to The New York Times, where she ended up corporate gargoyles running the state. Out of their voices, she as the paper's Rocky Mountain Bureau, covering the West. created her idiom. She used that idiom, that unique voice that But her heart remained with the Observer. She had found would become a brand, to expose the bloviating, bloated, and more than her voice here. She found what she described corrupt politicians and corporate bosses who shaped what as "the best deal in American journalism"—a place where a passed for public policy—the people Jim Hightower would reporter could do uncensored, unbridled reporting. Molly later describe as "the bullies, bankers, and bastards in charge." had filed more than 300 stories at the Times but proved too She reinvigorated the journalism for public good that had exuberant for the staid newspaper of record. She better-dealed defined Ronnie Dugger's "journal of free voices." At her center, them and went to the Dallas Times Herald, where she was Molly cared deeply about her fellow humans and how they promised the freedom to write what she wanted. She had were being treated by their gummint. it—until the Belo Corp. bought the Times Herald and shut it Now you can be all that and end up a character in a Billy down the day after the purchase, leaving the Dallas Morning Brammer novel. But the plain truth was—Molly could write News the only game in town. circles around everybody else. When she latched onto a story The shuttering of the scrappy Times Herald haunted that revealed how poorly our government was serving regular Molly—not because she was out of work, but because of what

THE TEXAS OBSERVER I VOLUME 99, NO. 3 I A Journal of Free Voices Since 1954

Founding Editor Ronnie Dugger James K. Galbraith, Dagoberto The Texas Observer (ISSN 0040-4519/ paid. Airmail, foreign, group, and bulk Executive Editor Jake Bernstein Gilb, Steven G. Kellman, James USPS 541300), entire contents copy- rates on request. Microfilm available Editor Barbara Belejack McWilliams, Char Miller, righted 132007, is published biweekly from University Microfilms Intl., 300 N. Managing Editor David Pasztor Debbie Nathan, Karen Olsson, except during January and August Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Associate Editor Dave Mann John Ross, Andrew Wheat when there is a 4 week break between Publisher Charlotte McCann issues (24 issues per year) by the Indexes The Texas Observer is indexed Associate Publisher Julia Austin Staff Photographers Texas Democracy Foundation, a 501(c)3 in Access: The Supplementary Index Circulation Manager Lara George Tucker Alan Pogue, Jana Birchum, non-profit foundation, 307 West 7th to Periodicals; Texas Index and, for Art Director/Webmaster Matt Omohundro Steve Satterwhite Street, Austin, Texas 78701. Telephone the years 1954 through 1981, The Texas Investigative Reporter Eileen Welsome (512) 477-0746, Toll-Free (800) 939-6620 Observer Index. Poetry Editor Naomi Shihab Nye Contributing Artists Texas Democracy Foundation Board E-mail [email protected] Copy Editors Rusty Todd, Laurie Baker Sam Hurt, Kevin Kreneck, Lou Dubose, D'Ann Johnson, Jim POSTMASTER Send address changes to: The Texas Observer, 307 West 7th Staff Writer Forrest Wilder Michael Krone, Gary Oliver, Marston, Mary Nell Mathis, Gilberto World Wide Web DownHome page Blogger Matt Wright Doug Potter Ocaffas, Bernard Rapoport, Geoffrey www.texasobserver.org. Periodicals Street, Austin, Texas 78701. Administrative Assistant Stephanie Holmes Rips, Sharron Rush, Kelly White, Postage paid at Austin, TX and at addi- Editorial Interns Jun Wang, A.J. Bauer, Ronnie Dugger (Emeritus) tional mailing offices. Books & the Culture is i I ■ Editorial Advisory Board Clatuf.1 Arts Kelly Sharp funded in part by the City Dirimion David Anderson, Chandler Davidson, In Memoriam Subscriptions One year $32, two years of Austin through the Contributing Writers Dave Denison, Sissy Farenthold, Molly Ivins, 1944-2007 $59, three years $84. Full-time stu- Cultural Arts Division and Nate Blakeslee, Gabriela Bocagrande, Lawrence Goodwyn, Jim Hightower, Bob Eckhardt, 1913-2001, dents $18 per year; add $13 per year by a grant from the Texas Robert Bryce, Michael Erard, Kaye Northcott, Susan Reid Cliff Olofson, 1931-1995 for foreign subs. Back issues $3 pre- Commission on the Arts.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 3 it represented. She found a space on the op-ed page of the press. Molly romanticized those six years when her dateline Fort Worth Star-Telegram. But her profession was dying. The was penury, but recognized the economic reality of creating end of the two-newspaper town was the end of the daily quality journalism today. She was resolved to see the Observer competition for stories that motivated editors. Publishers, adequately funded and fully staffed. She knew that there advertisers, and accountants would be the defining forces are hundreds of critically important stories that aren't being in a profession that Molly knew was essential to a working reported in "the Great State" and that from the bottom of the democracy. journalistic food chain, a small, intrepid staff could compel the As newspapers foundered and independent journals boys in the big newsrooms to pay attention—by beating them disappeared, Molly became increasingly tenacious about the at what used to be their own game. survival of The Texas Observer as a journal of free voices. She Molly adored the poet John Berryman, whom she met became chair of the board of directors of the Texas Democracy when she was at the Minneapolis Tribune and whom she Foundation, the nonprofit owner of the Observer. She gave the quoted in the first editorial she published in these pages. Observer honoraria from her speeches and royalties from her So we borrow a phrase from Berryman's "Minnesota books. She was a tireless advocate, wining and dining potential Thanksgiving" and promise to use these pages to do Molly donors to keep the Observer afloat. Along with B. Rapoport, "not sufficient honour but such as we become able to devise Molly was our rainmaker. But her generosity of spirit far out of a decent or joyful conscience." outdistanced even her generosity of resources. Molly's indomitable spirit will live through these pages. It wasn't just because the Observer was her second home We'll use the one-word penultimate line of the last stanza of and the place where she earned her chops. It was because Berryman's "Minnesota Thanksgiving" to recall that spirit: she believed passionately in the power and necessity of a free Yippee! IN Molly when she was co-editor of the Observer. • photo by Alan Pogue One Thing About You by RONNIE DUGGER

ou Dubose let me know, from his visits with humorists that holds up is to Will Rogers. Your achieve- her in January, that Molly was failing. I was ments for compassion and common sense among Americans kept in the East by a medical situation, but exceeds any other by a working journalist in my lifetime two days before she died I sat down for known to me, taking account together of both its passion lunch in a bar in Cambridge and wrote her and its sheer gross weight. a letter, which was delivered to her home on This happened because of who you are, but also of one Altalb Vista Avenue in South Austin and read to her the day thing about you. Do you remember the only criticism I before she died. She opened her eyes to listen and smiled. gave you when you were on the Observer, once when we ran into each other at Matt Martinez's El Rancho down Monday, January 29, 2007 on—was it East First? I said to you, "Molly, I have only A bar in Cambridge one question: when are you gonna get serious?" and you replied at once: "When we have a chance to win." And this Dear Molly, you have been doing, now that we either win really or lose From Lou I learn you are back home where you're comfort- our beloved great country. Your answer reflected what you able after the stay in the hospital. Pat's and my thoughts are knew, as Jon Stewart knows in action now also: The way to very much with you. She sends bundles of love to you. people's sense of justice is through their sense of humor. I have been searching my mind this morning for any other Everybody had said so much about you by the time I columnist and journalist in my lifetime who has done as embraced you at the big-do Observer benefit, all I remem- much good as you have for the people through the press. ber being able to manage was, congratulations. So this here Woodward and Bernstein, perhaps, in their one glorious is what I have to say to you about you, at too great a length, series of exposes—Watergate, ridding us of Nixon and his as is my custom: in short, that you are the most effective gang. But I can't think of anyone to hold up against your journalist for compassion and justice known to me near or achievement. My memory runs back to only three others, far across the whole of my lifetime. Marquis Childs, Walter Lippman, and James Reston, each Love, Ronnie very different from each other andftom you. Childs was a voice for justice like yours, national, but so much less heard As usual, when we had an opening for editor or associate editor or read than you that there is no real comparison. Lippman at the Observer, in 1970 about 30 or 40 applications arrived at and Reston, also during my time, did more, each in his our offices, five or six of them from journalists good enough own way, to thwart Lyndon on Vietnam and drive him out, for the job. The two strongest of all, though, clearly, were from than any two others; but the first had no compassion, and someone named Molly Ivins, applying from Minneapolis, but Reston was too much of the Times. No one, least of all Abe hailing from Houston, and Billy Porterfield, the reporter and Rosenthal, could or would ever say that of you. distinguished Texas writer. The decision fell to me. The thing about your achievement, Molly, is, yes, the Porterfield was appealing. He was and is one of the best excellent writing; yes, the hilarious and habitual nose- writers working in Texas. He was an experienced reporter thumbing; yes, your rare (these days rare) close attention on Texas papers; he knew the ropes and the rogues. Under to the absurdities and hypocrisies of Congress and the Porterfield, too, the journal's literary side would have been Texas Legislature; yes, the wide lens of your compassionate transformed into the equal of the rest of it. Bill let me know, mirth, from the homeless to the four-homed, from Austin to however, that he did not like politics. Washington to Baghdad. But the thing about it that makes I was dazzled by Molly Ivins' clippings of her stories in the it the largest achievement for humanity of any American Minneapolis Tribune that accompanied her application. I hardly journalist in my lifetime is what happens when one puts it realized, because her reporting was so mature, that she was on a scale: the weight of it. Your being syndicated in 350 or only three years out of college (Smith, Columbia, a school in 400 newspapers is without parallel among progressive, lib- Paris). The stories were energetically researched, pithy, well eral columnists of your range and quality. Take, for example, written, and ethically salient; as the reporter, Ivins was right the penetrating and always germane Robert Kuttner. The there in the middle of them as a real reporter should be. Since last time I asked him, perhaps a decade ago, he had 20 there was no showing at all of a sense of humor in them, I newspapers. Add in your raucous, best-selling books, and could not have foreseen her blossoming into a humorist and the liberating effects of your swing-from-the-hip speeches a satirist of politicians; it was the boldness and fairness of her to huge movement and non-movement audiences starting reporting that settled the matter in my mind. Kaye Northcott in the 70s—why hell, Molly, the only comparison among was in place as our associate editor, and with something

6 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 • approaching grief at not choosing Porterfield, I decided on think that to be involved in politics is simply to be alive. ... Molly if Kaye would agree to their being co-editors. Kaye leapt This is about our lives, and this country is our deal. We own at that, and the Observer became, as far as I know, the only all- this country." In her last column she continued: "We are the woman-editorial-staff journal in the country at the time. people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every The New York Times hired Molly away from the Observer, but single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and a story she sent in from the Rocky Mountain Bureau did her take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of in with Abe Rosenthal, then the executive editor of the Times. something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our In due course Molly, based first in Dallas, then in Fort Worth troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of while working out of Austin, became the only funny and the there. Hit the streets to protest Bush's proposed surge." most widely read liberal columnist in the United States. Her Gary Keith, Bob Eckhardt's biographer, sent me Molly's best-selling six books include the two she wrote with Lou New Year's missive to some of her Austin friends, which was Dubose on George W. Bush. She also established herself as one dated last January 3: of the leading public speakers from the liberal point of view, while frequently speaking free before groups and for causes Dearly Beloveds, that she believed in. She was a great woman, and she became a Two zero zero seven and stayin' alive, that's the main great force for good. thing. The doctors continue to find new ways to torture me. She was presiding during a meeting of the Texas Civil IM in pretty weak shape now but planning to get better. A Liberties Union in a palatial home out on Lake Austin during round of physical therapy may help me get my strength back. which I, being the speaker for the evening, berated the ACLU I've certainly kept up my weight. For that I owe a consider- for upholding corporations' historic and successful contention able debt and countless pounds to Blue Bell Cookies and that they, being persons just like other people, have the legal Cream and a better than average appetite. and constitutional rights of persons, and for the ACLU's Being an invalid means you can almost always have your opposition to limiting election campaign contributions on way when it comes to daily desires. That's why I invited the argument that money is speech protected by the First almost 50 people to help trim my Christmas tree in early Amendment. Closing the festivities, Molly said softly, "Well, December. I'm glad Ronnie's not in charge of our fundraising." In 1996, For Christmas I hauled out many cookbooks and made a when we held the founding convention of an organization I menu with Sara Speights and Marilyn Schultz. This includ- founded, the Alliance of Democracy, at a ranch near Kerrville, ed Mare's prime rib and Yorkshire pudding, Sara's ginger- Molly, one of our speakers, arrived in a bright red pickup. Her carrot soup, Kaye Northcott's potatoes with heavy cream and message to us was that while we were striving to subordinate gruyere, Courtenay Anderson's spinach with artichoke caps giant corporations to democracy, we should have a lot of fun at the bottom, and my sister-in-law Carla's unsurpassed along the way. pecan pie. In addition to Carla, my sister Sara, brother Molly became the guiding force on the board of the Texas Andy, niece Darby, and nephew Drew were on hand—a Democracy Foundation, which has published the Observer seated dinner for 12. since 1994, and one of nine or 10 or so individuals across half This might not seem like a big whup until you understand a century without whom The Texas Observer very well might that my stove was on the blink and couldn't be fixed in time not have been able to continue. As the Times said the day because all of NASA's engineers were otherwise occupied for after her death, the Observer was her spiritual home. Her Final the holiday. Friday open-house parties at her home in a small jungle on in Lo, came the miracle of Alta Vista Avenue. Ovens to the South Austin surely must have been one of the gayest, happiest left of me, ovens across the street, as well as their owners, traditions in the entire American liberal movement, teeming opened their doors to the elves. Andy said he liked carting with reformers, tamales, ne'er-do-wells, beer, editors, chips things from house to house. It put him in the holiday spirit. and salsa, do-gooders of all styles, causes, and fashions, and I visited some and rested some as the preparers prepared. It loud, soft, and robust talk. Sporadically some of us suggested was lovely hearing the bustle of my friends andfitmily get- that Molly run for governor, but she did not take up the hints. ting a great meal together. My only regret is that I couldn't In 1999 she was struck with breast cancer, but she continued smell the prime rib as it roasted across the street. writing, traveling, and speaking. Meanwhile, I've taken up a new sport—shooting BBs In a column last summer she gave some ground, but not from my lounge chair at the squirrels trying to rob the bird much, to those who insist one must fight for what one believes feeders in my back yard. with good manners. "I am still lamentably stuck in the middle, )7 So now it's the New Year and I want to give each and she wrote, "—not that I hold with hating the haters ... we eve?), one of you a hug and wishes for more good news on can all see where that leads—but I am always tempted to the political front. May the Ds avoid making bigger fools of shout them down. 'One, two, three, four, we don't want your themselves than the Rs, which seems like a doable deal. fucking war." Last October, at a celebration of her in Austin, From your as yet unsinkable Molly. more than $400,000 was raised for the Observer. During a lecture at the University of Texas last November, she said, "I Ronnie Dugger is the founding editor of The Texas Observer.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 7 The Molly Days by KAYE NORTHCOTT

any journalists applied to join The sued Molly and the Observer for libel for no other reason Texas Observer when publisher than she called him a "stud hoss evangelizer." Ronnie Dugger sent out a call for Following Molly's example, I learned how to loosen up and applicants in 1970. I was associate have fun with my writing. We soon had the Legislature's full editor and helped Ronnie sort attention. Very few of our government leaders wanted our through the prospects. A rollicking, advice, but they wanted to read what we said about them. I'll Mlively letter came from somebody at the Minneapolis Tribune leave the anthologists to determine what was any good. named Molly Ivins. She had grown up in Houston and The Observer was fortunate—if the state wasn't—that wanted to return to Texas. She enclosed a few clips; one Texas newspapers were so lousy then. Some of the big dailies was about going to summer camp with an LBJ daughter. were still coming to grips with desegregation, and some of The daughter's letters home to the White House urged their best rejected series ended up in the Observer's pages on the envelope, "Deliver de letter de sooner de better." because the papers didn't want to agitate their readers. No OK, not great journalism, but it was clear Molly had a other opinion journal existed in the state, nor did Texas unique and idiosyncratic eye for detail, and would write Monthly or the city magazines. We had the field to ourselves. about anything she damn well wanted to. We took on a third editor, wonderful John Ferguson, to The Observer splurged to fly her to Austin for an interview, help edit and proofread. He was a great writer, but he rarely a huge commitment with our budget. Ronnie, Observer chose to write. All three of us would troop over to unionized business manager Cliff Olofson, and I met with Molly at Futura Press to lay out the paper and write headlines. Ronnie's house. Molly brought her own six-pack, which, Owners Bill and Ann McAfee were patiently supportive, but given the times, didn't seem such an odd thing to do during Novella, the redheaded printer, scared the dickens out of us. an Observer job interview. It was soon decided that I would Cliff Olofson was an absolute rock, a spiritual man who be editor, and Molly co-editor. At Molly's suggestion, she dedicated his life to the Observer and was always there to and Cliff and I accepted the same yearly salary as legislators back us up. made ($7,800 a year or $8,700 a year, I don't remember In late 1970, we moved our office from near the University which, but without a per diem). of Texas to the second floor of 600 West Seventh St., a I was immensely grateful to Ronnie for allowing me to stay yellow brick mansion that had been purchased by lawyers on. I was painfully reticent, comfortable with the written David Richards and Sam Houston Clinton. They offered word, but not with people unless they thought exactly like I charity rental rates to the Observer and the Texas Civil did. Liberties Union. We had a huge veranda, which was covered He put two women in their 20s in charge of the only with wisteria in the spring. It was on the veranda that we independent political voice in Texas—it was a gutsy decision would gather for the 5:30 p.m. news, otherwise known as on his part. I hope he didn't regret it too often. the "Watergate Wallow," to learn of the latest outrages of the Later, Molly and I wished we had asked for Ronnie's Nixon administration. Needless to say, there was usually an counsel more often, but as nascent feminists we didn't want ice chest of beer on hand. too much advice from a male authority figure, and Ronnie I loved sharing an office with Molly except for the fact never pushed—except to try to get us to learn to spell and that I was a teetotaler and nonsmoker. I spent most of our proofread, which we pretty much never did. six years together with tears in my eyes either from laughter Molly was a wonder from the day she arrived for work in or Marlboro smoke or both. Both during and after work the car she called "The Tank." It had no reverse, which goes hours we were privileged to learn how the legendary liberal to show how far she was willing to be inconvenienced for a politicians of our time ticked—Reps. Sissy Farenthold, Craig good anecdote. Besides, she was always broke. Washington, Neil Caldwell, Democratic honchos such as She set about getting to know every politician in the state. Billie Carr, the entire Dirty Thirty of Sharpstown Scandal She was so funny and friendly that all were happy to see fame. I won't explain the scandal because it really wasn't her. A redheaded 6-footer, she always stood out in a crowd. that big a deal. Suffice it to say that questionable securities Molly had an innate writing ability—she actually enjoyed transactions benefiting state leaders served as a dose of Viagra writing—and she never forgot anything funny anybody told for the Texas House of Representatives, as well as the Texas her. I didn't have much editing experience, but I knew my press corps. job would mainly be to step aside and let her do her thing. Drink did not seem to inhibit the quality of Molly's work. There were a few lapses in judgment on my part. We did not In fact, it played into the way she covered politics. At the have a fact-checker. But Brother Lester Roloff would have close of a legislative session, she wandered over to the Capitol

8 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 N y.y. 44. •,";

1111 ,ettik A'. k 4r.a. Co-editors Kaye Northcott and Molly outside the Observer offices in the 1970s. photo by Alan Pogue

to visit key senators such as Oscar Mauzy and Babe Schwartz Gabriel River were as much a part of our political education and Charlie Wilson as they opened their wet bars and as were any interviews we did with pencil and notepad. discussed the day's work. Meanwhile, Molly was soaking up everything John Henry Molly's legislative coverage sounded authoritative because Faulk could teach her about the Bill of Rights and the it was. Sometimes the people who told her what was going spoken word. She also garnered national recognition from on were surprised to be quoted in the Observer, but her freelance articles for The New York Times, The Washington philosophy was, "Everything's on the record." Pretty soon Post, and other publications. She finally left the Observer in everybody got used to it. 1976 to go to work for the Times. Having been educated on Molly became very close to Bob Bullock when he was the East Coast, she couldn't resist the call, at least for a while, secretary of state, and she frequently left the office about 4 of Manhattan. p.m. to join him and his aides for the cocktail hour or hours. I've debated whether to include this confidence, but I will These sessions were, for her and subsequently for Observer because it hints about the depth of her drive. Molly once told readers, magnificent lessons about the real workings of state me that when she was an adolescent, she wrote a resolution government. Fortunately, she had a great memory, drunk or and put it in her wallet: The resolution was to commit sober. And she had boundless energy. suicide if she weren't famous by the age of 25. By the time When Dave and Ann Richards and Sam and Virginia she arrived at the Observer, she had thought better of such Whitten (plus four children each) moved to Austin from an extreme measure, but she was drawn to celebrity. When Dallas, they absorbed us into their circle of friends. My she reached it, she was infinitely generous to her fans and partner at the time was one of the owners of Armadillo friends. In addition to being a great writer, she became a World Headquarters, and he and others at the club gave us great speaker, teacher, and political motivator. And she never heady access to the incomparable music scene. Our free time got et' up with the big ass. was occupied by music, camping, canoeing, and storytelling. Land Commissioner Bob Armstrong's Ides of March Kaye Northcott is editor of Texas Coop Power magazine. She campout and Dave and Ann's campfires on the lower San served as an editor at The Texas Observer from 1967 to 1976

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 9 Greatest of the Great by BERNARD RAPOPORT

ome 35 years ago or thereabout, a seemingly of thousands of readers each week. It made them think about mild woman knocked on our door in Waco injustice. It made them angry. And it made them laugh. and said, "I am Molly Ivins. I am new at When The Texas Observer she loved so much became a The Texas Observer." (I say "seemingly.") nonprofit and Molly called and asked me to join the board of Audre and I invited her in. It took about a directors, did I really have a choice? At the last board meeting minute or two of conversation before there was I attended at her house, a very tired Molly said what she had no question that the three of us were family. I always joked to say and retired to her bedroom, with the door open so she with Molly that she wasn't radical enough. Her father was not could listen. a communist, as mine was. We laughed about it. She stayed a She is one who makes a difference—yes, a great big one. while. (For Audre and me, it seemed like she was there about a She stands for something, and no one has a greater sense of minute.) Molly was terribly exciting, and as our paths crossed outrage at injustice than Molly. over the years, there was no question that each time she was I loved her sarcasm. I loved her brilliant and scintillating more exciting. columns. She is the greatest of the great. I love every ounce of Audre and I both loved her. this great woman, and Audre and I will miss her dearly. Molly worked with The New York Times and the Minneapolis Tribune, but heck, that isn't what she wanted. She wanted Bernard Rapoport is head of the Bernard and Audre Rapoport the freedom to write exactly what she wanted to say. Her Foundation and chairman emeritus of American Income Life syndicated column influenced the thinking lives of hundreds Insurance Co.

NO

w.7 President Bill Clinton, Molly, and Bernard Rapoport in 2006. Photo by Chris Caselli.

"Hi, Sweet Pea" by CARLTON CARL

which was looking to make I t never seemed quite right to call her Mary by the stodgy New York Times, itself a little less so, Molly managed repeatedly to offend the Tyler Ivins. Molly just fit her. A woman powers that were. When she referred to a chicken festival as a from privilege, but certainly not of it. I've known my brother longer. And a cousin. "gang pluck," she finally crossed the line. And a friend from first grade who just underwent Her editors never even saw her as I still can so vividly see surgery for throat and larynx cancer that chemo her today, running full speed down West 67th Street toward Central Park on the trail of her dog, which had gotten loose. and radiation didn't stop. But that's about it. Passersby were amazed not only at the sight of this tall, Molly and I go back 45 years. imposing, red-haired woman, arms flailing, chasing a huge We went to different schools together in Houston. High school journalism brought us together. Although we took our dog through the city streets, but also at her screaming what they didn't realize was the dog's name. "Shit ... Shit ... Shit roles seriously, Molly always did it with more humor. Our friendship grew as we crossed paths again and again. ... Shit," she hollered. New Yorkers gawked. It was a glorious We were newbie summer reporting interns at the Chronk, sight. Molly was always a little bit on the outrageous side, as we affectionately called the Houston Chronicle, under where she felt as comfortable as she did on the side of the the tutelage of fine editors like Don Pickles and characters like Zarko Franks, Stan Redding, and Billy Porterfield. We Bill of Rights and its protections for the powerless and the badgered our bosses to allow us, in addition to our daily downtrodden. Observer and its poverty- reporting duties, to take on a major jointly reported series If her heart was always with the on poverty in Houston—ultimately published as one long level wages, she reached her stride as the columnist that most of her admirers came to love, laugh at, and count on to get piece that told a different story than the daily grist the civic- boosting local papers generally served up. us through the week. Wanting to address the big issues, elucidated with personal Through her insightful columns and television commentaries and interviews, Molly became something of a little stories and marked with humor, was then and remained professional Texan—her down-home style and language and one of Molly's hallmarks. Molly was at the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism accent growing thicker through the years. But she was not boondocks and bull. Her humorous, Texian take on the most when I was finishing up at Columbia College and about to serious issues carried her message to ever-wider audiences, head to the j-school the next year. Our year included football, philosophy, partisanship, anti-war (Vietnam) activities, and barely masked the erudition of one of the most prolific bar-hopping, and, most important to me, her big, friendly readers and one of the best writers I have known. Molly enjoyed fine food and good wine (which, like those shoulder for me to cry on when my father unexpectedly died en route to my graduation. I still treasure a note she wrote damned cigarettes she liked too much, she only reluctantly, if repeatedly, gave up). But she never lived extravagantly. She me then. preferred good friends, good humor, and good conversation, Then she was off to Minneapolis, where her reporting all of which she enjoyed in abundance. for the Tribune was inspiring and inspired by an unlikely assemblage of troublemakers, I think she called them, She loved rehearsing new stories, new columns, new lines on her friends. And her friends were honored when, that included a bevy of radical, underground nuns. I was occasionally, their ideas or attempts at humor were adopted privileged to get a tour of Minneapolis, the Tribune, and by Molly. She loved my coinage of "Marco Blanco" to the best reporter bar in town when I was trying to decide describe former Texas Gov. Mark White and shared it with whether to take a job as a reporter or look for creative ways of not going to Vietnam. Over vodka martinis, Molly wisely the world. Even in grief or pain, both of which she suffered too counseled the latter. frequently and too severely, Molly could bring a smile to my South toward home, Molly gave up the big salary and face when I called or visited or went to lunch or dinner with great honor of Midwest reporting to come to Austin, where her. Her, "Hi, Sweet Pea" and "Hey, Darlin"' were irresistible. I had gotten into liberal Democratic politics, to become the Irresistible, too, was her investment of time and money more impoverished co-editor of The Texas Observer, which has always been home to Molly's heart. I was source and and passion in the things she cared about. When she first became a best-selling author, making real friend. I'll never forget the day she called to invite me to money for the first time in her professional life, she gave celebrate the first profit turned by the Observer—all of it to Observer, the Texas Democracy be expended on a single pitcher of beer at Scholz Garten. most of it away—to the Lured away first to the West and then to New York City Foundation, and goodness only knows what other good

12 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 • _7177717

causes. Maybe she'd spend some money from the next book me to fathom the insanity of W's war in Iraq, why there or the book after that on herself—perhaps another trip to was so little outrage about the assault on her beloved Bill of Paris, which she loved and visited last year for the last time, Rights, and other weighty issues. or a little spot of land somewhere in the Hill Country. We expressed optimism, even if we knew the Democrats When she met young people with talent or potential or have an uncanny ability to screw things up. We laughed need, she'd invite them to her home and make sure they met again. She was thinking about her next column—beginning other inspiring folks. Without saying so, she'd let them know to write it in her head and try it out on me. they could make their mark and that people like Molly who But first, Molly wanted to know how my brother and cared about them would always be around to help. nieces and nephew were doing. "And are you doin' OK, When our old friend and civil libertarian John Henry Sweet Pea?" That was Molly. Faulk died, she knew that one of the most passionate voices And she wanted to talk about the future. She started for the Constitution and Bill of Rights had been stilled. She telling me about the house she wanted Joe Pinnelli and the would take up his banner, because, after all, what could be architect of the garden room in her Travis Heights home to more important? She even had a book in the works with build for her out in the Hill Country near London, Texas, on another former Observer editor, Lou Dubose, about real-life the farm she bought a few years ago with her brother Andy. stories revealing the meaning and importance of the Bill of It would be unpretentiously sunny, elegant, and beautiful, Rights. welcoming to people of conscience, conviction, and passion. What a glorious present for us all and for Molly's memory It would be like Molly. if that book could be finished and published. Molly was feisty and engaged when I visited with her last Carlton Carl is vice president of policy and strategy for the month. American Association for Justice, formerly the Association of Trial Exhausted by the chemo and the radiation, she tried with Lawyers of America.

Constitutional Fortitude by GARY CARTWRIGHT

olly Ivins was an unabashed patriot, Molly. I don't think it will come to that, but Molly believed and it drove right-wingers nuts. the First Amendment was too important to leave to chance. Conservatives somehow got it fixed She had a covenant with her readers, addressing them as in their brains that patriotism "beloved," a habit I think she picked up from John Henry meant being in lockstep with Faulk. In words that even John Cornyn could understand, their ideology, that dissent was Molly cataloged the many and nefarious ways that these treason. Molly made a career of reminding them otherwise, founding precepts were regularly subverted by special interest IMILalways careful to point out how cute they were when they groups and their bought-and-paid-for drones in the political acted like fools. Never one to be mean-spirited, she gave class. The political class was a mob she knew better than any right-wingers the benefit of the doubt, acknowledging that journalist I've ever known. their behavior was probably an act, not a character flaw, Molly practiced what she preached. She reminded us to cynical perhaps, but not as bad as, say, neurosyphilis. vote and suggested appropriate candidates, in case we forgot Like a kindly, overeducated maiden aunt, Molly reminded what the idiots had been up to lately. She loved America, the misguided—not to mention the cynical and greedy— not just the people or the spirit or the land itself; she loved that what the Founding Fathers had thought necessary to the connections, the names and places and dates that had spell out in black and white in our Constitution was fairly become our historical fabric. Nothing was too small to basic stuff. Not by accident had the first 10 amendments escape her curiosity or elude her passion, including tiny come to be called the Bill of Rights. As she got older, she plants, insects, cloud formations, and nutcase organizations worried especially about the First Amendment, which she that claimed to represent the American heart, but in fact believed was under attack not just from the right wing, but represented a less elegant body part. from corporate America. Except for a handful of small, Back in the '70s, when Molly and Kaye Northcott were co-editors of The Texas Observer, independent newspapers like the Observer, the media have our group of friends mostly been swallowed up by bottom-line corporations and took regular camping trips to a small ranch on the South faceless conglomerates. Left unchecked, the trend could San Gabriel River, owned at the time by David and Ann mean the end not only of a free press, but of writers like Richards. Late into the evening, seated around a campfire, a

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 13 • bottle of the water-of-life passing from hand to hand, Molly required agility. Sometimes it was necessary to back up, and would lecture us on the constitutional underpinnings (or lack sometimes it was necessary to start over. Admitting mistakes thereof) of various laws and government practices, regaling was rule No. 1. Also numbers two through 10. Most us with the absurdity of overpaid officials too obtuse to important of all, however, we had to look at politics not as realize they were bad jokes. "If his IQ gets any lower," she merely a duty, but as an entertainment, something to laugh said of a congressman from Dallas, "we'll have to water him at and have fun with. Laughing came easy for Molly, as it twice a day." In the morning, she would conduct flora and did for those of us who knew her or who paid even scant fauna tours for the children—and those of us who acted like attention to what she wrote or said. children—pointing out marvels of nature that until then we Molly wasn't for everyone, thank God. Though she worked had dismissed as annoying burrs and nasty things that fly up for The New York Times for three years, they never got her. your shorts and sting. Molly's down-home irreverence and barbed style—references One Fourth of July, as we drank beer around a picnic table, to the "awl bidness," for example—puzzled and confused her Molly interrupted our serenity by producing a copy of the superiors. I think the title of her first book, Molly Ivins Can't Declaration of Independence, which she read aloud, from top Say That, Can She? was inspired by her ordeal at the Times. to bottom. "The United States of America," she reminded One particularly officious editor changed her description of a us at the conclusion of her reading, "is still run by its guy with "a beer gut that belongs in the Smithsonian" to "a citizens. The government works for us." It was a straight-on man with a protuberant abdomen." Exiled from Manhattan lecture to a group of college-educated writers, politicos, and to the Times' Rocky Mountain bureau, Molly kept her sense professional people, and to my amazement, all of us listened of humor. "Montana is a meat-and-potatoes state," she told to every word, as though the session would conclude with a me after her return to Austin. "I was starved for anything pop quiz. We needed Molly to remind us how easy it is to green. When my steak arrived with a tiny sprig of parsley on take basic freedoms for granted—and she knew we needed it. top, I wolfed the parsley down and left the meat. A waitress The possibilities of America fascinated her. Molly looked at me with what I think was pity and said, 'Goddamn, understood that our nation was not a finished product, but honey, if I'd known you was going to eat it, I'd of washed it.'" an evolving experiment in democracy, that the previously Without quite realizing it had happened, Molly and some unimaginable might overtake us in a flash. Politics, therefore, of the rest of us became village elders. We had been around

14 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 long enough and covered enough grass fires and stabbings she really needed was a 10-day rafting trip through the and stolen elections that we could pull up a rocking chair Grand Canyon, I thought she had gone crazy. She was and spend our twilights on the front porch. That wasn't fighting cancer for the third time and by all rights should Molly's style. While writing books and columns and have been home in bed, if not the hospital. Reflecting traveling across the country on speaking engagements, she on it later, I realized that this final grand adventure was took time to revive a monthly gathering that a quarter of a emblematic of Molly's whole life. Another dare, another risk, century ago was known as First Friday—renaming it Last another confrontation with fate, screw the bloodless cowards Friday. Even as she battled cancer, she hosted the gathering who can't appreciate the fullness of life. I heard that her raft at her own home, educating a new generation of patriots into got swamped and she almost drowned. Maybe that was her the cultural habits and quirky resistance that characterized plan. It would have been a great American ending, not that her own life, teaching them that right-wingers were to be Molly needed one. pitied rather than hated. When I heard last summer that Molly had decided what Gary Cartwright is a senior editor at Texas Monthly.

After the Storm by SISSY FARENTHOLD

IN4 oily wrote about my political after 9 a.m., with Molly, Larry King, the writer, and friends life at the Observer, supporting at Scholz's. a reform agenda focused on Molly left town for a few days that summer and allowed satisfying human needs. However, Emilie to drive Molly's 1955 Bellaire. The car's reverse gear her support had a profoundly didn't function, but its electric rear window did. In the course personal dimension, for which I of the three days Molly was away, the insulation from the remain indebted to her. When I called to vent my anger hood fell onto the engine and caught the car on fire, the cat about being excluded from a legislative committee meeting developed pneumonia and died at the vet's, and a burglar stole held at noon in an exclusively male club, Molly asked Molly's record player, the only item of any worth in Molly's what I was doing. I laughed. I was eating cottage cheese three-room "cottage." None of that seemed to matter to Molly. in the Capitol cafeteria, and I was able to see for the first She remained steadfast. Two years later, Molly and I dropped time the disproportionate silliness in my predicament. Emilie at her college dorm room. We had forgotten how The night after Hurricane Celia in August 1970, it was grim an empty dorm room looks on a chilly autumn evening. dark and damp. The electricity was out. Already, mildew Turning toward each other, we both said simultaneously, "I was spreading. The storm prompted a group of visitors and wasn't going to say anything in front of Emilie." friends to gather on the front porch of our house in Corpus When Molly found me in a difficult situation, she asked Christi. Molly sat across from a green velvet banquette pulled quietly, "Why don't you cut out of here?" I was startled. She outside to dry. We drank red wine, and ate canned ranch was, as usual, prescient, and before long, I was divorced. beans and bread with herb butter warmed in a gas stove. I "There's a Farenthold on a motorcycle," Molly cried out don't remember exactly what was said. We talked over the day's when she found my 8-year-old granddaughter attempting to events, discussed Sen. Yarborough, FEMA's lame response, and start the cycle in question. laughed about a self-proclaimed despot in Port Aransas. In the Molly saw the conflicts in our family's life. She witnessed our aftermath of the violent weather, the evening was reassuringly confusion, dysfunction, and intemperance repeatedly, in many quiet and ordinary despite the damage and lack of electricity. guises. They didn't deter her a single moment. She opened The next summer, when Molly was about 26, she offered her heart to all of the difficulties of our family life, without my 16-year-old daughter, Emilie, refuge in the form of an reservation, welcoming with joy each member of our family internship at the Observer and a place on Molly's couch for into her life. Months and then years passed between our visits, the summer. Having refused to attend high school, Emilie but we never had to "catch up" because Molly understood returned from a school year spent in France without a what our life was like. She smiled big and years dissolved. spot from which to continue her education. The Observer's These past two decades there was never enough time to get commitment to first-rate reporting about public issues together. Now, there is no time. provided the best schooling imaginable, although there was a moment at the end of Emilie's first day at the Observer, when Sissy Farenthold served two terms in the Texas House and ran for I was chagrined. Emilie spent the entire day, starting just governor in 1972.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 15 With Us in Spirit by JIM HIGHTOWER

INAI[ oily is a spirit. A big, boisterous, (with a capital J); (2) the Bill of Rights—I think she joyful, irreverent, hell-raising, spoke to more ACLU meetings than any president of that fun-loving, muckracking, organization; (3) progressive politics, aggressively populist, uninhibited, maverick spirit. putting the corporate structure and the money powers right As such, she lives. in our sights; (4) underdogs; and (5) the merry combination I first encountered her in 1970, of good friends, good drink, and good fun (she orchestrated when she exploded from the pages of the Observer like a many a wild game of charades in her home, playing it as a supernova. She was full of wit, smarts, and sass, grabbing full-body, contact sport). readers by their hearts, minds, gonads, and funny bones. In my last dinner with her, Molly turned to me and said Damn, I thought, no human can write like that! She could out of the side of her mouth: "This has been a hell of a ride." knock you over and lift you up in the same sentence. It was She meant the months of trying to stay atop the cancer her spirit coming at you. bucking within her, but it could also sum up her 62 years in For 40 years or so, Molly wrote, spoke, taught, and this life. Molly came to us as a spirit, lived with us as such ... agitated all across America, rallying progressive souls with and has now left you and me infused with her spirit. She did the expressive force of that spirit to stand a little taller, get a her part—and our happy task is to carry it on, breathing the little noisier, help whack some pompous plutocrat or asinine fiery, loving, laughing essence of Molly. autocrat right in the snout—then go have some beers and an uproarious laugh. Former Texas agriculture commissioner, former Observer editor, In my years of knowing her, I found her to have five and populist sparkplug Jim Hightower is an author and radio passions: (1) good, solid, and brave investigative Journalism commentator. Struggling with the Red Queen by BUD SHRAKE

IMI[ oily Ivins has long been a hero to me, but never more so than in the last six years as she fought the ultimate fight against the cancer that insisted on taking her life. Meanwhile, she had continued to speak and write, eloquently, against the depredations of politicians and big business hogs and fools in general in a voice that is big and loud and funny and brave, just like Molly herself. The last time I saw Molly up close was in September at the funeral of another great Austin woman, Ann Richards. Molly was mourning the loss of her dear friend, but she put a wide smile on her face and took my arm and walked me across the reception room in the Erwin Center. "Shrake, you should have been with us on the river. It was a hoot," she said. "Even you would have liked it." Beneath the hat that covered her bald head, Molly's face had an attractive flush that comes from outdoor action like canoe-paddling, never from typing. She looked strong and healthy. She had recently spent 10 days on the Colorado, camping out, coming down the canyons of the Grand Canyon with friends in canoes and rafts. I wondered if this could mean Molly had staved off the cancer once again. "You have always amazed me," I said. "Where did you find the strength to make this river trip?" "I just love it. Loving it gives you strength," she said. Then came the familiar Molly laugh that keeps things in perspective. I remember suddenly noticing, at Scholz Garten in the early `70s, a tall young woman with glasses and a loud laugh and a voice and wit that were dominating a table of pretty good talkers. Then she left on the back of a motorcycle, and I asked, "Who the hell is that?" She was Molly, of course, having come to the Observer. Over the years, as a devoted reader and fan, I followed that I would ask her about it at such a time, but we were Molly to each of the pulpits she established in print. I ran both thinking the same thing. She turned to me and said, "I into her at parties and programs quite a lot and thought hope you're working on a new book or something. We need of her as an old friend. This Republic deeply needs Molly's to work. I'm always working." wisdom delivered by newspapers and the Internet in Molly's But it wasn't the fear of fear that drove her to write and own words. When they talk about speaking truth to power, speak to the multitudes. She had great common sense, a it is Molly that they mean. social conscience and an obsession to point out to all of us It took great courage to be Molly. The foes that she faced the right thing to do. All the while she illustrated in her off against in the public print are as dangerous as cancer. observations the gleam of the comic in human behavior. Thinking back now, I realized that it was only last July Humans may appear to be a hopeless cause in the long run, that I sat beside Molly for a while at a memorial for yet but Molly tried to save us. another great Austin woman, Phyllis Cartwright. Phyllis There are few people about whom it can be said that they was suddenly dead of cancer, as Ann Richards soon would fought hard to make a real difference for the good in the be. And here was Molly, nearly eight years into her struggle world in their lifetime. Molly is one. Her life had a point. with the red queen. As a cancer survivor myself, I understand the fear. Not Bud Shrake is a Texas writer and author.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 17 Molly at the Times by ADAM CLYMER

t's too easy to say "Square Peg in a Round The late 1979 account of the trouble Sen. Frank Church Hole" when talking about Molly's five years at of Idaho was facing for re-election caught his problems—the The New York Times. Not because it's wrong. It Panama Canal, abortion, those who opposed the wilderness isn't. Nor because it amounts to understatement areas he backed—thoroughly. Then, in a Timesian usage comparable to President Bush saying there have meaning, "I think," she wrote that "many analysts here believe been "problems" in Iraq. Understatement, a that Senator Church's problem is that he is simply more Times staple, was not foreign to the Molly who wrote the liberal than his state." He was, though by only 4,262 votes. Iphrase "ethically challenged" (but not in the Times). But the Times had a lot of smart reporters. It lacked No, it's because cliches start out as fresh phrases conveying those who could tell a serious story as well as she could. something true and end up as cliches because they become a That showed from the beginning. Her first story as a Times crutch that oversimplifies. reporter, in 1976, was an account of a fuel oil spill on the Take the classic Molly description of her problem with St. Lawrence Seaway. The article covered thoroughly the 43rd Street: "They hired me because I could write, and then spill, the progressing cleanup, the threats to wildlife and they wouldn't let me do it," she told the Chicago Tribune in tourism. But the way she told it demonstrated that serious 1991, nine years after she left the Times. It's true, and not just stories need not be dull: "There would not be such a hue and the famous editing-out of the phrase "gang pluck" from a cry if 300,000 gallons of black gunk were floating around in 1980 account of a New Mexico chicken-slaughtering festival. the lower depths of industrial New Jersey or those stretches (Indeed, the word "pluck," in any of its formations, survived of the Texas Gulf Coast where the oil refineries glow like to the Times archives only in the caption of a picture a prelude to Hades." Then she noted the arrival of hustling showing Fred Harris removing feathers from a decapitated commercial oil-spill cleaners, "like gulls over the wake of a ), bird. The story also retained a cryptic reference to dealing garbage scow. with feathers. It says surgical training is no help. I think Before Abe Rosenthal, the executive editor, ordered her the next paragraph—deleted—must have been where the back from Denver to purgatory on the metro desk after offending image would have fit.) the chicken-plucking adventure in 1980, she had explained She lost a lot of good stuff on the copy desks. It is, alas, the underpopulated West to subway-riding New Yorkers. not preserved. But anyone who sat down and skimmed There were stories about trailer fever in a Wyoming winter, through her 390 Times bylines, as I did recently, sees that a Colorado town with election feuds but only 47 voters, a Molly got a lot of great stuff into the paper, where it stood ski-bum shortage that led Aspen resorts to hire Vietnamese out far more dramatically than it does today in a paper and Filipinos, and census-takers on snowmobiles, horses, and where someone like Dan Barry thrives and the copy generally mules in Utah. The lede on that story: "The census workers is light years better than it was in the '60s or '70s. were out trying to take their part of the national snapshot We all know Molly as a writer with a gift for a phrase that today and were finding it hard to get everyone to hold still ), punctured the pompous, but rereading those Times clips and say cheese. reminds us that she was also a fine reporter with a great ear. That coverage led David Jones, the Times national editor It translated into her authority later as a columnist. As she who got her hired, to recall the other day, "She was a wrote in 1979 reviewing a columnist's book, "I believe it is wonderful reporter, a wonderful writer, and she brought a true of all columnists, feminist, political or other, that they real understanding of the country to our report." Jones had benefit greatly from leaving their armchairs and venturing hoped Molly and the Times could adjust to each other better forth to gaze on specific realities. In other words, they need than they ultimately did. to do more reporting." Molly's arrival at the Gray Lady in 1976 came as part of She always reported. One of her first pieces from the an effort to add some superior writing and knowledge of the West, where she starred and then fell for the Times, reported country to the authoritative but East Coast-based reporting carefully on a rise in polygamy. There was nothing flip in that was the paper's staple. It was an institutionally the article. The people, whose religion was foreign not only conflicted effort, because reporters hired for their writing to New York readers but to the current standard of most of resisted efforts to fit them, with sandpaper, file, rasp, or Utah, came across as sincere and thoughtful. One advocate, chisel, into round holes, to achieve a perfected Molly or 71-year-old Rhea Kunz, whose eight children practiced Greg Jaynes or Howell Raines or Bill Kovach. polygamy and had produced 70 grandchildren, explained As reporters, Raines and Kovach navigated around the that polygamous wives had the right to divorce. She had hazards of putting fresh writing into the Times, occasionally divorced two husbands, she said. bumping off the rocks but never sinking. Jaynes and, more

18 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 spectacularly, Molly, tried to drive straight ahead. phrase into the paper and searched for the phrase. She had Molly, in particular, seemed to think that it was good for not been first. An 1853 edition had quoted someone on authority to be challenged, perhaps even undermined. That "Irish sons of bitches." was all right at the Times when she wrote of a police chief I haven't used the word "Ivins" in this piece out of respect in the Hamptons "with an impressive collection of cannabis for her complaint about her otherwise perfect-pitch obituary growing in his office in hanging pots," and reported that of Elvis. Her complaint was that editors made her call him he "said it was evidence." But it was a problem from her Mr. Presley. earliest days in the newsroom when she brought her faithful Before she departed the Times, she offered one major mongrel into the newsroom with her. Especially when she suggestion that might have made the metro desk a happier would call the dog by name. Her name was "Shit." Molly place to work. She proposed that the metropolitan editor was ordered to leave the dog home. post each week an official "Shit List." It was her idea that And whatever her problems with chickens, it could hardly many reporters, simply victims of benign neglect and not be said fairly that she did not have some Times tradition in consciously shunned, would be relieved to find their names her. Covering the Albany funeral of Democratic boss Dan off the list. Not that she doubted she would still be on it. O'Connell in 1977, she recalled that the deceased had once called the priest who celebrated mass "that dago son of a Adam Clymer retired as chief Washington correspondent of The bitch." I wondered if Molly had been the first to get that New York Times in 2003 after 26 years with the paper.

Tell 'em How Much Fun it Was by ADAM HOCHSCHILD

M oily was an American original, one we were talking about Christopher Hitchens and his odd of those authentic, powerful voices embrace of the Iraq war, and she said, "I told him: I can't go that come from deep within the with you there. No way. But we'll still be friends." better side of this country's soul. I think everyone felt that her voice belonged in whatever Her voice will continue to echo, was the publication they loved best, and for years I hoped as do the voices of other great it would be in Mother Jones, with which I've been associated journalists, from William Lloyd Garrison to I.F. Stone, since it began. Finally, in 1990, Doug Foster, then editor of long after their owners are gone. To construct Molly's the magazine, succeeded where many of us had failed, and equivalent, one would have to add to the passion for justice got Molly to begin doing a regular column for MJ under the of those writers the qualities of Finley Peter Dunne, whose heading of "Impolitic." Later, even after she stopped doing skewering of the high and mighty of a hundred years ago, so the column, she kept on writing occasional pieces for the often quoted since, was always done with gentle humor. magazine for many years. I first got to know Molly when we were both regular In these articles, as so often in her syndicated newspaper speakers at the wonderful annual World Affairs Conference column, the literary conceit was that she was almost a foreign at the University of Colorado at Boulder. She usually came correspondent, explaining that exotic place, Texas, to the only every other year, and I made sure those were the years United States. But of course she was explaining the United that I came. I have to confess, though, that I always had States to itself, because although the Bushes were from Texas, mixed feelings about being put on a panel with her. On the the rest of us had elected them (or maybe didn't, but that's one hand, it was thrilling, because the room would always another story ...). be packed with people sitting on the window ledges and in There were other powerful Texans, like Dick Armey and the aisles and straining on tiptoe to peer in the doors. On Phil Gramm, who needed to be explained to bewildered the other, I always knew that no matter how long and hard I Mother Jones readers, but the most important, of course, was or any of the other speakers prepared, we would never be as the man still sitting in the White House. "I have known succinct, as trenchant, and as hilarious as Molly. George W. Bush slightly since we were both in high school," I so admired not just her famous wit, but the warmth Molly wrote in MJ a few years ago, "and I studied him and gentleness that came through when she wrote about closely as governor. He is neither mean nor stupid. What flawed people whom she still liked, like Henry Cisneros. Or we have here is a man shaped by three intertwining strands when she talked about such people. The last time I saw her, of Texas culture, combined with huge blinkers of class. The

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 19 three Texas themes are religiosity, anti-intellectualism, and fighter awards on various citizens and one of 'ern was Joe machismo. They all play well politically ..." Rauh, the lawyer who defended so many folks during the Then she went on to analyze Bush in terms of the narrow, McCarthy Era and the civil rights movement (note that the privileged part of Midland, where he had partly grown up. rightness of those stands is always easier to see in retrospect). She quoted a Texas ACLU board member who was asked if Raugh was sick in the hospital at the time and asked a friend there had been any problems with gay-bashing in Midland. of his to go down and collect the award for him. His friend "Oh, hell, honey,' she drawled, 'there's not a gay in Midland went to see him in the hospital and said, 'Joe, what you want who will come out of the closet for fear people will think me to tell these folks?' they're Democrats.'" "So there was Rauh lyin' there sick as a dog, thinking back Molly's legendary ability to laugh and to make others on all those bad, ugly, angry times—the destroyed careers, laugh was not just a skill she happened to have. She believed the wrecked lives—and he said, 'Tell 'ern how much fun it in it; it was part of her stance toward the world. She was. Tell 'em how much fun it was.' knew that nobody who battles against war and injustice, "So keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but discrimination and poverty, can do so for a lifetime—and don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter certainly can't expect to get others to come on board— ring forth. Be outrageous ... rejoice in all the oddities that without laughter, without enjoying the very fight itself. freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass Nothing can serve as a better epitaph for her than this and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell ending to one of her Mother Jones columns; she was writing those who come after how much fun it was." about someone else, but I think she was also writing about herself: Adam Hochschild was a co-founder of Mother Jones. He has "On the occasion of the bicentennial of the Constitution, written for numerous newspapers and magazines and authored the ACLU was fixin' to lay some heavy lifetime freedom- several books.

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Reprinted by permission of The Austin American - Statesman

20 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Living it Loud by MYRA MACPHERSON

"If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell political opinion piece in which he was able to refer to you: I came to live out loud." —Emile Zola a politician who had just changed course as a "political transvestite." I asked him how in the hell that had ever o one lived more out loud, with passed inspection. He said he had followed the "rule for more spirit and verve, than Molly. getting a good line in The New York Times." It involved If anything could surpass Molly's building a story carefully. "You write," he said, "four genius, it was her irreverent wit. The paragraphs you know they will think are outrageous and that one-two punch of this combined talent they will cut. By the time they get to the fifth they say, 'Oh, produced the best and most sparkling hell, let's give him one.'" Ncommentary for several decades in American journalism. Her Molly bypassed such labors and went straight to the chase. style made total strangers across the land feel like she was She was covering a Colorado event that happened to be a their best friend. chicken-plucking contest. As she said, "Something just came And for those of us who had the great honor of being over me, and I couldn't resist." There, smack in the pages of one of those friends, knowing Molly brought rare love and The New York Times, was the phrase: "gang pluck." laughter and brilliant insight into our lives. I will never The ever-excitable editor Abe Rosenthal shouted at Molly, forget the time we were on a panel on women in journalism "We know what you were trying to say! We know what you when a sweet young thing burbled that "I owe my career to were trying to do to The New York Times!" these two 'pioneer' women." Molly and I said in unison that Molly said ever so dryly, "Oh Abe, you are one smart man." "we left our covered wagons outside," then proceeded to talk Exit Molly Ivins. about the days when women reporters were hardly seen, let It has been an everlasting disgrace that establishment, alone heard. I thought I was being halfway funny—but then mainstream venues like The New York Times and The Molly took over, and laughter erupted as she related her first Washington Post so often overlooked the greatness of Ivins' meeting as a reporter with the intellectually and vertically prose to settle for canned and cautious commentary. challenged little men in the Texas Legislature. For anyone Molly could be tough, but she was also one of the kindest who doesn't know, Molly was 6 feet tall in her bare feet. One and most generous of friends. In the 36 years that I have of the legislators stood on tiptoes, reached way up, and barely known her, she has been Aunt Moll to countless children, managed to touch Molly's shoulder, then drawled, "Hah including mine, a surpassingly funny friend who was kind honey, what's a sweet little thang like yew doin' in a business enough to laugh at your attempts with head thrown back like this?" and that brilliant smile, the first to call when you are in Perhaps the worst marriage ever in journalism was when trouble and, for many years, the last to keep going until the The New York Times hired Molly. Whatever prompted this saloon's last call. career choice, Molly should have received the Purple Heart of When I think of Molly, I think of this comment by journalism. The first indication that life was not going to be someone who remains anonymous about how one should just swell in the corporate headquarters of the ever-so-beige live one's life: "Alas for those who cannot sing, but die with Times was when she was rebuked for taking her shoes off, the all their music in them." Molly sang out strong. And she better to concentrate on her prose. also did the following in spades: "Let us treasure the time As Molly always told it, she had endured such copy we have and resolve to use it well, counting each moment changes as "bosoms and buttocks" for her phrase "tits and precious—a chance to apprehend some truth, to experience ass" (even then the acceptable-to-everyone-but-The-New-York- some beauty, to conquer some evil, to relieve some suffering, Times title of a song in A Chorus Line). Like many of us who to love and be loved, to achieve something of lasting worth." wrote for the Times, tears could fall at the breakfast table We will always, always love you, Molly. when we read for the first time the published results of an editor's scalpel. On one such occasion, Molly saw her phrase Journalist and author Myra MacPherson has written several "beer gut" changed to "protuberant abdomen." books, most recently All Governments Lie!: the Life and Times The great Times writer Warren Weaver once wrote a of Rebel Journalist I.F. Stone.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 21 Texas All the Way by DAN RATHER

ome years back, for reasons too boring to misidentified. But either way, the radical label got it wrong. get into here, Molly Ivins and I wound up Molly was no radical. Her beliefs were far too chaotic and at the same Austin luncheon, one of those unpredictable for that, and she bridled at any suggestion big deals at the Driskill Hotel filled with that she was doctrinaire. What she was—and mark it well, the powerful and the semi-powerful, and because we don't see her like often—was Independent, with with the pomposity hanging thicker in the a capital "I." airIS than cigar smoke. I won't repeat the name of the group She was a maverick, in the best and truest meaning of here, but Molly and I were to serve as panelists before them. that word. She was just about impossible to herd, and woe As I started to enter the banquet room, one of the be unto the person who might try. In other words, she was attendees took me aside and, in all sincerity and with great Texas to the core. And if it hadn't been for Molly and those concern, said, "Dan, you're not gonna appear on the same few rare souls like her, an itinerant visitor may have thought panel with Molly Ivins, are you?" I must have looked puzzled that the Texans were all gone, that they had gone the way because he explained how Molly was, in this gentleman's of the Karankawa Indians. But Molly was the real Texan view, some kind of radical who could only drag me into article, and alongside the humor for which she is so justly trouble by sitting beside her in such a public forum. remembered, this served her so well in her chosen craft. True A bit put off, but wanting to be polite, I mumbled my to one classic definition of a journalist, she was always ready thanks to the gentleman for his concern and found my seat to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. on the panel, next to Molly. I smiled at her in greeting; she Molly, admittedly, took far more satisfaction from the just leaned over and asked me what I was doing "in a place former. And never in the history of the Fourth Estate has like this." a writer been more fortuitously paired with her subject "I could ask the same of you," I said. than was Molly in covering the Texas Legislature. Where "Well," she said, "If I stay here and tell these sumbitches else could this connoisseur of the classic line have found what I intend to tell them, and you stay here next to me, such ready-made morsels as the legislator who assured his you're gonna be ruined." colleagues they could reduce spending on public workers That was pure Molly—happy to confirm the worst and to "through nutrition?" make you laugh anyway. If God hadn't given her to us, we The last time I saw Molly was at a big benefit for this would have had to invent her ourselves. publication. 2006 was drawing to a close, and Molly knew Think what you want of her opinions, the things she the end was near for her, too, but she had the courage to approved of and the things she despised, you always knew continue to live life while she still had it. An impressive where Molly stood, and you always knew where she came crowd had turned out for the gala, and I remarked to Molly from. Texas all the way. If you wanted to see her nostrils flare that the event had really grown, and the Observer should be or her neck swell, all you had to do was tell her where to line proud. In typical Molly fashion, she threw some cold water up or what to think or—heaven help you—tell her to shut on that. "I just hope we don't get too complacent," was her up. Nobody ever accused Molly Ivins of going along to get response. along. As long as Molly was around, no one ever could get too That luncheon at the Driskill wasn't the first time I heard complacent, and that may be one of the best things that the word "radical" used to describe Molly, in Texas and can be said about a member of the working press. Now that elsewhere, and it was not to be the last. Maybe one heard Molly's gone, we'll have to guard against complacency for that particular word so much because it was one of the few ourselves, and find the laughs where we can. words, in speaking of her, that her detractors could repeat in polite company. Or maybe it was because the traits Molly Former CBS News anchor Dan Rather produces and hosts embodied have become so rare these days that they were easily "Dan Rather Reports" for HDNet.

22 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Molly at the New York Times in 1978. photo courtesy of the Ivins family For Molly by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE

Well, sometimes we just grew desperate MOLLY MOLLY MOLLY. For a simple word like True. So few people embodied it anymore. Wherever I go I say When you found one who did I'm not from the state of GWB, You wanted to circle round, like a campfire, I'm from the state of MOLLY. In the dark, in the very very dark, And listen till the coyotes wrapped their cries And people cheer. In Minnesota they cheer. In sleepy sacks and went to bed. In California, Oregon, DC, all over the whole place. It's like, we still have a few treasures left down here. The sound of True reminded everyone What a Brain and mouth was supposed to do. Molly — her voice pokes through the swirling malaise — No one could ever have guessed Stakes out the territory. Lights it up with We would be so lonesome for it, right about now. Sense. Sentences. Brevity, beauty, kick in the ass Uplift, she The doubts some of us had At the crack of the 21st century Rescues the days. The century that started with so many zeroes So many empty eyes staring back at us Restores Had quickly been confirmed. Clarity.

What had we learned in all those years? Says, Uh, wait a minute, I wouldn't be so sure...

This is not an easy job. Molly lays out facts Everywhere we listened, forests of With a neat hand and calls us BELOVEDS HAKI FAWTHI — empty talk, in Arabic — On the way. such a useful phrase — And something shines in the near distance again. were springing up. Like a pond we dreamed of reaching. Something sparkles. It's not gone. Despite the drought. She's a beam on a miner's cap. Whole acres of Haki Fawthi surrounded the cozy home Even when the miners aren't doing very well. places we once knew. She's the beacon in the tunnel. Made it hard to see where we were, Even when the tunnels fall. where we could possibly be going. What could we lean on? She's the clear note the symphony tunes to — Shadows fell upon families. We do, we do. Never once have I read her words Haki Fawthi blurred what we took for granted And felt worse. back in second grade — Separation of church and state, for example. We had thought some things were taken care of. She stakes out the territory. Tells us where we are. Had never guessed She creates the gate in the giant wall How many ways reality could be tipped. That's all around us right now. Except where it should be — in New Orleans.

BUT FOR a few people, a raft She reminds us the word called TRUE used to be so big Like THE TEXAS OBSERVER it felt like a future That might look thin but could carry And we believed in it. Her blade of TRUE cracks right Half the population more than two weeks, through the gibberish, the forests of lies, The voices of intrepid bravery and especially And takes us back where we can laugh again.

24 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007

Not an easy task, gang. Fury is easy but laughter... Molly finds it. Levers the tanks wide open, Changes weather better than a norther Kicks the bricks off our brains And says Stop waiting. Try this on for size. Put these bits together, brethren. Make a picture, Find yourself in it, figure out who drew it and how. And what you need to do and say about it. NOW-!

She gives us fuel for the next move.

Your little self and your big self (actually, the title of the sex manual my mother gave me when I was 12) mixed in a brew of state and country honor.

4 Molly gives our honor back. Oh, beloveds! ...... °.01 4.. :i

Arm, 2.74/s• 4 , 1 e: ::;‘,, . ,,,e OY • 4 A, , .3' ,q+..rk, at knautpei,d 0 ''''''''1.,":`,j i.,I. ''''.0 ' ' 4' '-- ` ,.,40. V. . . . whidi 1.;• ''',P el4 •• - ...tia its r"" 4 There is no one we would rather have WELL forever. 's 411 Nvrq '' ' I'lc '.%' 770,c11. tO' s "I 'h e •Icred in chA. .' *4' e4,..4' '''''", ■viigi .Lill. b. . 3 IA k 0,,c 7 ,,.....414 '.. 4/ ' 1$e4, An. tenet of , ,,, . 4 # 4—: toR,,„,h v, ,i),...0 jr,etal" 1" 0i3 ' II MC& ntond t;',./ :11, 1''''''°611Wa ' We pledge allegiance to her voice Her giant smart horizon Her vast heart that lets us all in -- Restoring us to sanity Wit and our own citizen skins.

THANK YOU, MOLLY.

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The Molly Prize Trophy, sculpted by Mercedez Pena. photo by Alan Pogue

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 25 How I Met Molly Ivins by STEVEN FROMHOLZ

ow I met Molly Ivins? I don't believe an hour above Banos. We had an upstream wind, and I saw I ever did. Although we had been Molly sniffing; the wind carrying the strong smell of sulphur huggin' and howdyin' for what seems up the river. The closer we got to Banos, the stronger the like half of my 61 years, I do not smell became. recollect ever having been actually When we arrived at the take-out, Banos was a hubbub of introduced to the Lady. My first New Years Eve activity. Banos Carrizal is an old hot springs encounter with the Magnificent Ms. Ivins could very well resort, and that afternoon la gente were resorting all over the haveH been at the old Raw Deal down on Sabine Street way place. After we unloaded the gear from the boats, everyone hack in the day, when heathens ran the streets of Austin found their swimwear, and we all changed and headed for and some of the eateries and drinkeries as well. We knew the hot springs for a warming soak. Molly and I stopped at lots of the same people and were thrown together socially, the little kiosk selling cold beer poured from its container musically, and politically on many an evening. We met into a sandwich bag with a straw in it and bound closed with by osmosis. We have since shared some great adventures. a rubber band. No glass containers allowed in the pool. I I have been known to lead folks on New Years trips to bought us each a sack of beer, and we headed to the source Veracruz, Mexico, where we took them white-water rafting of the sulphurous odors. We got in the water, and it felt down the Rio Antigua in the mountains around the capital heavenly after a day of splashing through the cold waters of city, Xalapa. We would raft by day, and in the evening we the mountain snowmelt that fed Rio Antigua. We were up would make camp along the river or go to a hotel. The against one side of the pool with just our noses and mouths evening was for singing, playing, eating, drinking, and out of the water, sucking Mexican beer through a straw on telling stories. Molly joined me on this trip twice. The first New Years Eve. It was perfect. time, in the early. '90s, we began by spending the night Molly looked at me and said, "Fromholz, those Baptist in the little town of Antigua at the mouth of Rio Antigua. preachers lied to me." "How's that?" I asked. Molly rolled her The hotel was called La Ceiba, for the massive ceiba trees eyes and replied, "They told me hell would smell like this." growing in and around the courtyard. The first morning, Although we never participated in any civil disobedience in after a great breakfast in a very funky little cafe, we gathered Mexico, Austin was a different story. around the shuttle vehicles to begin our ride to the put-in Our greatest adventure was our mooning of the Ku Klux at Puente Pescado, three hours up river. (We would run the Klan rally on the state Capitol grounds with about 200 river in two sections, each being a world of white water, the dedicated mooners one beautiful, January Saturday morning first from Puente Pescado, 12 miles to Ciudad Jalcomulco.) late in the last century. When Molly got to mooning she was Molly was nowhere to be seen as roll was informally called. really into it. And believe me dear heart, ain't nothing' like a We checked her room, called her name in unison, and finally, full moon. from above and beyond, came this voice, "I'm up here. Don't Our other great adventure was our protest campout at leave without me." After breakfast, Molly had gone for a Eighth and Congress in front of the State Theatre. We were walk in a tree. She climbed up on the wall surrounding the protesting the city's passing an ordinance making it a crime hotel and from the wall into the welcoming branches of the to be homeless and asleep on the streets of Austin. That huge tree. Molly couldn't disappear in a red oak tree or a ordinance pissed me off, so I called Molly and asked her if she white pine, but she could in the branches of a ceiba. would like to go camping with me downtown. She allowed as We had a fantastic day on the river, running class 3 and 4 how she would love to go camping with me. We called John rapids, and camping on the local Jalcomulco soccer field that Kelso to give him a heads-up, and the night of the camp out night. The next night was New Years Eve. After a day's run we were hoping to get arrested. To help that along, Molly down river, we would soak in the sulphur hot springs of the brought a fire pan and a bundle of fatwood for a fire. It was Banos Carrizal. a chilly evening. The only cop we saw was the female officer We left the beach about 10 a.m. for the five- or six-hour who showed up with a fire extinguisher when Molly lit the float down the Antigua, with Molly in my boat. She told me fire. We spent the night there with 75 other hardy souls. No stories while I ran rapids with names like Bruja Blanca. We arrests were made, and the ordinance was done away with. had another great day on a fantastic river. God knows how much I love Molly Ivins, but we never The last major rapids, above Banos Carrizal, is called Paso have been introduced. Limon, and it is a class 4, a squeeze between a large rock and a vertical wall on the right. We aced it and were about Steven Fromholz is a Texas troubador.

26 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 The Last River Run by DAVE RICHARDS

got a call from Molly about a year ago. She was Molly first showed up in our lives sometime in the early in Seton Hospital in Austin for one more of her '70s, when she signed on with Kaye Northcott as a co-editor never-ending bouts with the medical profession. of The Texas Observer. My law office was an old house on For some years we had talked about rafting the Seventh Street, and the upstairs housed the Observer and Grand Canyon. Her message to me was quite the Texas Civil Liberties Union. This was where I first came direct. A friend was arranging a Grand Canyon to know Molly's notorious dog—aptly named "Shit." A trip for September 2006. Her question was, "Will you Texas black hound that spent most of her days lying around Ipromise to go with me if I am still alive in September?" our offices, her name alone was sufficient to alert one that "Of course," I replied. Molly's sense of humor knew no bounds. These were heady That was pretty much the total conversation, and it times. The liberal takeover of Austin was under way, the captures, for me, her indomitable spirit. She was also not one Austin music scene was exploding with the Armadillo World to linger on the telephone. She addressed her life and her Headquarters, and Scholz Garten was the preferred watering illness head-on, no wavering, no equivocation. hole. Molly fell fully into the moment. She and Kaye set the

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 27 state on its ear with their reporting and had an hilarious time found her way back to Austin in the '80s, and our outdoor in the process. I feel certain that watching the buffoonery of adventures resumed. the Texas Legislature did much to hone Molly's sense of the Back when Frank Cooksey was mayor of Austin, a group absurd. decided to canoe him down upper Barton Creek when it was Our favorite recreational activity in those years, aside from on a rise. We had some notion that this would persuade him beer-drinking and politics, was river-running and camping. of the importance of preserving the watershed, but of course I had an old farm out on the North San Gabriel River near he didn't really need persuading. It fell to Molly and me to Liberty Hill. Many a weekend we camped, cooked, and put the mayor into our canoe. We dumped him about three sang around the campfire. Molly's 30th birthday party was times in the fast-running creek, but those misadventures did a gathering of several hundred campers at the farm. At one not deter his enthusiasm for the project. In later years we point, Molly actually lured then-Comptroller Bob Bullock did Santa Elena Canyon in the Big Bend with our dearest into a canoe for a run down the San Gabriel. I had the friends, Mike and Sue Sharlot; the Rio Antigua in the state pleasure of shoving them off with Molly at the controls. of Veracruz with that splendid companion, Steve Fromholz; Molly wandered away for a while to big-city lights, but and Texas' most beautiful river, the Devils River in West

Dare Richards and Molly. ',how /I 41m' Pogue Texas, where our leader, Russ Tidwell, managed somehow As September approached and Molly's health remained to get Molly and me, as well as Doug Zabel, down the river compromised, misgivings did emerge, but a deal is a without serious mishap. But Molly and I had always planned deal. Sandy had the good sense to recruit Brady Coleman, to do the Grand Canyon someday. Life's demands kept Austin's most charming man about town, to join us on getting in the way. the venture, and September found us in Flagstaff, ready In the meantime, I found myself in California, removed to embark on a 10-day raft trip in the Canyon. Molly had from the Austin scene. It was in California that I first came just completed yet another chemo treatment shortly before face to face with the reach of Molly's influence as a writer. I leaving Austin. had always loved her writing, her politics, her humor, but as The trip was splendid. We were joined by some a provincial, I simply didn't realize that she had captivated acquaintances of Molly's from Alaska who made perfect such a huge national audience. Her speeches in Marin traveling companions, and we were blessed by lovely County would attract standing-room-only crowds. My wife weather. Molly was weak as a kitten and unsteady on her Sandy and I managed to greatly enhance our community pins. Every time she boarded or exited the raft, it was a new reputation by entertaining Molly on her periodic forays adventure as we all scrambled to ensure she didn't end up to the West Coast for speeches and book tours. We stayed in the drink. Through it all, she was indomitable. She never closely in touch with Molly since the early onset of her complained and never wavered and actually seemed to gain illness, always astounded by her refusals to surrender to the strength as the trip progressed. Brady and Sandy sang to us seemingly incessant medical challenges. in the evenings, and Molly joined in. She even managed to I later learned from a good friend, Harold Cook, that organize a talent night for the voyageurs on one occasion. I he had been in Molly's hospital room when we held our feel so fortunate to have had the chance to be part of this chat about the Grand Canyon. He felt that the prospects final venture. She was, as the old Texas saying goes, "a good of running the Grand had literally given Molly a new lease person to run the river with." Sadly, the run is over. on life, and she was visibly buoyed by the prospect. Any doubts about the wisdom of the venture were set aside. David Richards is an attorney and author.

An Excellent Day by RICHARD AREGOOD

n the last weekend of her life, Molly Mencken and Will Rogers, American originals who saw Ivins spent an afternoon creatively things clearly and spoke the truth even more clearly. Could trashing the traitorous rats who there be a better description of Pat Buchanan's notorious had abandoned party and principle Republican convention speech than Molly's laconic, "It must to vote to re-elect the speaker of have sounded better in the original German"? the Texas House, then met in the It was Molly's unique ability to combine reporting, evening0 with the ladies of her Austin book club, many of commitment, and wit that made her a special writer. Even whom had smuggled tasty contraband into her hospital an eight-year battle with an especially nasty form of breast room. All things considered, it was an excellent day. cancer evoked telling humor. A legendary overworker, she From the moment I met her at a backyard barbecue in told me that her sickness had had the benefit of making it Anchorage, Alaska, 20-odd years ago, Molly taught me to possible for her to say no to speaking and writing gigs: "If I savor and cherish the many wonders of life, even the often- say, 'I can't. I have cancer,'" she said, "they tend to go away." hilarious frustrations of being a left-wing Texan. Wherever But for everybody who knew Molly, the memories are Molly went, she met people who would love her unto death. not of her professional excellence, although her hilariously Hell, I still love her and will always carry the glow of that pointed work in The Texas Observer 30 years ago knocked my incredible smile with me. socks off even before we met. Those who compare her with the sad lot of current I can see her strolling briskly across the campus of the political columnists miss the point altogether. It is insulting University of Colorado, trailed by earnest acolytes waiting for to mention her in the same breath with a house man like another good or boy story or a chicken-fried epigram. Molly George Will or timid "centrist" David Broder, who once and Roger Ebert have been the superstars of Colorado's was a great reporter, let alone to the execrable Ann Coulter. Conference on World Affairs for decades. In Boulder, she She was firmly in the great tradition of Mark Twain, H.L. was approachable royalty.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 29 I remember her sending my son a box of books at his birth, she and I were on a panel with Larry L. King (the real children's classics that he would read over the years, even if Larry King). We did our little speeches, and a sweet young they weren't exactly your typical baby gifts. I can hear him thing raised her hand. She asked for career advice. Molly later remarking on her bilingual skills: "When you see her responded crisply and compassionately. "My friend on the on TV, she talks like J.R. Ewing, but when she calls, she left spent 10 years of his career as a rock-and-roll writer. sounds like a normal person." (Please forgive his New Jersey My friend on the right resisted turning 'The Best Little chauvinism.) The combination of Houston and Smith College Whorehouse in Texas' into a musical. And I left The New produces wondrous things. York Times to come to a dying newspaper in Texas. What the I can remember the splendidly funny dinner in Austin at hell do we know?" which I sat back and listened to Molly and the amazing Liz Because of her, Texas can be proud. It produced more than Carpenter tell delightful stories until I was too weak from the arrogant cruelties of the Phil Gramms and Dick Armeys, laughing to have dessert. Or another Austin dinner when a not to mention the Current Occupant. It produced Molly 6-foot-tall woman with no breasts and a gray crewcut was Ivins, by God, and she served to remind every last one of us the most magnetic, beautiful presence in a room full of Texas of the joys of political battle and the absolute necessity of beauties. fighting political battles. She introduced me to John Henry On a bush flight to Denali, Molly wondered at the building Faulk and Ann Richards, told me about Ralph Yarborough that served as both saloon and Alcoholics Anonymous and the good side of Lyndon Johnson. meeting room as well as the natty and fashionable climbing She and I were never what you might call demonstrative attire of a group of Italian mountaineers. people, the kind who share your pain, especially not the kind Molly devoured life, whether it was riding in her pickup to who share their own. But she spent long evenings listening Fredericksburg with her poodle (a Texas poodle, not one of to my ravings about my then-semi-disastrous love life and those fancy ones) in the back, surrounded by finely chewed my adolescent insights following the realization that bourbon tennis balls, or sitting in a barbecue joint with butcher paper whiskey was killing me. I was honored that she returned that on the tables in the Hill Country as she learned that the favor after Florence King accused her of plagiarism (it was Pulitzer Prize Board, in a fit of insanity, had taken away what shattering to her to have missed a couple of attributions, even had seemed to be her guaranteed prize and given it instead though she had made all the rest) and her last newspaper to Dave Barry, who hadn't been a finalist. A brief oath about employer treated her in the shabby fashion that has sadly the Dallas Morning News and its then-editor (who was a become common in our craft. She was a good friend and board member), and it was back to the barbecue and another a wise woman who served her country better than any funny story. pompous flag-waver who ever drew breath. Unlike most columnists, who seem to have long ago There can be no words better than Molly's own, from her chosen between passion and humor and made the wrong last column, to sum up her legacy and give the lie to the choice, Molly was a believer, an American patriot who wingnuts' absurd claim that her philosophy was based on thought the founding documents assured us of our freedoms. hatred of the Current Occupant. She was also a pragmatic, tough, and skeptical woman The purpose of this old-fashioned newspaper crusade is who understood that maintaining those freedoms required not to make George W. Bush look like the dumbest president constant battle, even though that meant being less polite ever. People have done dumber things. What were they than a Texas lady might ordinarily be. She had no problem thinking when they bought into the Bay of Pigs fiasco? How being in a minority, which is probably a good thing given dumb was the Egypt-Suez war? How massively stupid was recent history. Nor did she mind the chaos and messiness of the entire war in Vietnam? Even at that, the challenge with democracy. In fact, she celebrated it. this misbegotten adventure is that WE simply cannot let it In short, the lady enjoyed raising hell, which is exactly what continue.... we need in this age of candy-ass acquiescence to the national "We are the people who run this country. We are the executive branch's ever-accelerating power grabs, in this era of deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs fascination by the mass media with the irrelevant and stupid. to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. She found it impossible to accept cant and humbug. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look Hearing an English authority on something or other deliver ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying himself of his opinion, Molly purred, "Everything seems to get them out of there. If you can, go to the peace march in to sound better when it's delivered in an English accent. Washington Jan. 27. We need people in the streets, banging Especially bullshit." During Bill Clinton's second-term pots and pans and demanding, 'Stop it, now!"' battles, he called some prominent columnists, purportedly That's the furthest thing from hate. Molly Ivins was about to seek advice, a flattering kind of call. Molly was not freedom and love. And we loved her back. impressed. She reminded him that he was the president and she wasn't, dropped in some progressive ideas, and went on Richard Aregood is senior vice president of the Marcus Group and unimpressed by the implied flattery. former editorial page editor of the Newark Star-Ledger and the At a long-ago session at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, Philadelphia Daily News.

30 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 • 11,1

• • . ,i . : -it : i - .i , . i' ' • ,: ■• . 4t • .0

.e.Molly and former U.S. Sen„kalph ,Ya0.borafigh at an Observer fitndraiser.. " 1- : ' • photo by Alan Pogue That's Right, You're Not From Texas by GARRISON KEILLOR

es, Miss Molly was a great defender of principle was an out-of-towner who never fit in with the weirdness of and a mighty chastiser of sinners. But what Austin. Austin is a city, she said, where the most common I will remember is her powerful warmth and utterance is, "Let's knock off work early and have a beer." The exquisite good manners and that beautiful esprit of weird included the hip and eccentric and also the smile. We've all known great defenders and cynical and openly corrupt—in other words, Republicans— chastisers who were about as friendly as a but it didn't include good ole preppies and Dallasites. fence post, and a sort of general prickliness among fellow "Dallas is a city that would have rooted for Goliath." (Ivins) irwriters and liberals. And then there was Molly, who was She told a story about a man named Jim Franklin, an ever cheerful and loved to be with her people and was so artist back in the '70s who kept a pet boa constrictor that generous to readers and listeners. That's the one I remember. ate live chickens, about one a month. Small chickens. But Paul Krugman wrote a fine column in The New York Times one month the snake had indigestion and couldn't eat, and about Molly's prescience on the Iraq war—how a woman by the time he recovered, the chicken Franklin had bought in Austin, Texas, with no inside information, got the war had grown too big for the snake to eat. The snake was right from the very start—and it's all true. Future editors afraid of the chicken. And so the chicken became Franklin's of Bartlett's Quotations will have a hard time picking and second pet. He took it around with him with a string for a choosing among Molly Ivins' bon mots. All true. leash, and took it to bars and parties. But the Molly I remember is the tall Texas girl who came One fine summer day Franklin was looking around for a backstage at "A Prairie Home Companion" in Austin and chicken-sitter to keep the bird while he went away for the announced that she was my ride to the party. She drove a weekend. He left the bird with a friend who was not, as pickup truck and offered me a beer en route, and she just it turned out, so reliable, and who was not at home when enveloped you in warmth and humor. It wasn't flattery, it Franklin came. So Franklin left a note on the friend's wasn't seduction, it was Molly. The party was at a little house kitchen table and left the chicken tied to a tree in the rented by some young people whom Molly knew, very little backyard. furniture, no decor, and beer in the fridge and a buffet of It was a hot day, and by the time the friend returned taco-makings, dogs wandering in and out, and I remember home, the chicken had had a heat stroke. It was lying in the how much fun it was to stand in a circle of loquacious folks brown grass with its little chicken tongue hanging out of the in the backyard and talk and talk and talk into the night. side of its beak. The friend had a wild and brilliant idea and Roy Blount was there, an old friend of mine and Molly's, and put three drops of amphetamine on the chicken's tongue. it was like a bucket brigade, passing around funny stories, "The chicken shot straight up full of energy and went off lickety nobody holding court or pontificating, everybody having split at 90 mph and hanged himself with the leash," Molly said. their say. "But what makes it a great story is that nobody thought it was The wake that was held for Molly last fall in Austin (with that weird. Everybody kept saying Damn, you heard Franklin's her present) had the same feeling. Overwhelming to me, chicken died?' and everybody said, "Damn. It's a shame coming into town a stranger, to feel immediately at home Franklin's chicken died.' That's Austin. That's the challenge you in that big ballroom crowded with Texas liberals and their young people have to live up to." admirers, and everybody who spoke was elegant and funny. Well, that's why a Minnesota guy comes to Texas, if he Everybody. You don't get that sort of thing in New York or does. Nobody is going to stand around in a backyard in L.A. Minneapolis and tell about how the chicken hung itself The Current Occupant was not an obsession with Molly. on a leash. We're all going to talk about you-know-whom. He was who he was, and she had seen him clearly when he I'm all for speaking truth to power, but when we're among beat her pal Ann Richards. She had his number—he was ourselves, I'm all for having a good time, people. Molly said a self-invented man, and some parts didn't fit right—and once that there are two kinds of humor—the affectionate nobody was funnier or haughtier writing about him, but she kind that makes people chuckle (that's me) and the slashing wasn't devoted to him the way so many other liberals have satire that makes people sit up and take notice (that's been. You hate going to parties up in Minnesota because her)—and maybe so, but oh she gave pleasure and love to you know he's going to be most of the conversation, his her friends. God bless her memory. name passing through the room, a thousand small, gassy expulsions. Garrison Keillor is an author and the host of `21 Prairie Home That night in the backyard she never mentioned him. He Companion."

32 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 When Molly Played Kansas by MARK RUSSELL

here are a few moments in my life that I "So in my early days at the Observer, when I would will remember forever. A couple that come denounce some sorry sumbitch at the Lege as an egg-suckin' to mind took place in Austin on the same child molester who ran on all fours and had the brains of an weekend. Molly Ivins was a part of both. adolescent pissant, I would courageously prepare myself to be One took place in Liz Carpenter's bedroom. horsewhipped at least. All that ever happened was, I'd see the Ann Richards and I were conned into lying sumbitch in the Capitol the next day; he'd beam, spread his 11together on Liz's bed to see the perfect view of the Texas arms, and say, `Baby! Yew put a mah name in your paper!'" Tower and the state Capitol dome framed by the steam Molly also arranged my legislative stand-up debut with erupting from Liz's hot tub. If I remember it correctly, it was Speaker of the House Pete Laney. It was decided that I'd Molly who took the photo—at least she was in the bedroom address the Legislature and tell a few jokes in the interest adding to the general laughter and ribald comments that of a mirth diversion from the day's business. My debut was rang out as Liz hit buttons on her bed to make it vibrate. postponed when we realized the day's business turned out to Another was a Molly-led tour of the Texas Capitol. The be a shouting match over a hate-crime bill. We adjourned to Legislature was in session, and I was concerned that walking her house for lunch. One lasting and prophetic memory from through the building with Molly would be like trespassing her that day—nearly 10 years ago, when George W. Bush through the headquarters of the Marine Corps with Jane was still governor: Molly said, "Tuck this name in the back Fonda. I needn't have been concerned. Far from it, there was of your mind—Karl Rove. That's Karl—mitt a `K'." glad-handing all around, "Hey Molly, how're yew?" from Most people who speak for a living will tell you that every liberals and troglodytes alike. All we met were very outgoing plaque or award represents a free speech. Some people put to their resident scold. She once described her reception by them up on their walls. Molly used them as trivets. Molly the erstwhile villains, thus: didn't rest on her laurels, she ate off of them.

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FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 33 Molly always had one up on her muckracking antecedents next two years without either of them is no laughing matter. like Ida Tarbell and Edna Ferber. They never took a moment One final Molly story. A number of years ago I was hired to be playful as did Molly, to the extent that any given to speak before the Wichita, Kansas, Chamber of Commerce. column was at once an on-target essay and an earthy laugh- Upon my arrival, several people alluded to some vague sort out-loud article to be clipped and sent to friends who weren't of mishap that had occurred surrounding the appearance of able to see her column on a regular basis. She once inscribed Molly Ivins, their previous speaker, some months earlier. No a book, "Can you believe God gave me all this material specifics were given, only that something had happened. free?" But my absolute favorite Molly Ivins line is: "If God Prior to my performance, I could overhear snippets of keeps hangin' around with politicians, it's gonna hurt his conversation along the lines of, "Molly Ivins this, and reputation." Molly Ivins that" interspersed with words like "shocking," I bring up Ida Tarbell because her doggedness in exposing "unsuitable," and "certainly inappropriate for Wichita." What the strong-arm corporate tactics of Standard Oil over a was it about Molly's appearance that still had everyone century ago opened the door to the journalistic snooping in buzzing about it six months later? An over-the-line political Molly Ivins' native state of the Awl Bidness. opinion, perhaps? A subversive rant? A polemic suggestion And what a fertile field. The "awl bidness" begat real estate, that Alf Landon and Robert Dole were the evil twins of the banks, elected officials, lobbyists, and yes, Molly's prime prairie? "What did Molly Ivins say?" I asked the woman targets of opportunity, our presidential father-and-son team. seated next to me. "I cannot tell you," the woman snapped (It once took me several minutes to explain the meaning of and turned away. the world "Dubya" to an elderly lady from New York.) Later, during a reception, the Molly talk continued Molly upheld a tradition described by Kathleen Brady in without any helpful specifics. Finally, I grabbed a couple I Ida Tarbell, Portrait of a Muckraker. had met earlier and begged for an explanation. At this point These writers believed in the ideas of the country at the I was going nuts with curiosity as to what assault had been same time they exposed its hypocrisy. All were from pioneer waged on the tender ears of the Sunflower State by the visitor stock, reared by hard-working parents on the principle of from Texas. The gentleman suggested we step into the hall, plain living, inspired by American history, and reverential at which point I lost all patience and hollered, "WHAT IN toward Lincoln. They had the American penchant for facts THE HELL DID MOLLY IVINS SAY?" The guy lowered over philosophy, and they not only searched for corruption, his voice and, looking over his shoulder, said, "Well, when they also unmasked power in America and found that that she spoke at the banquet, she said that the three most power did not rest with the people. The writers pointed overrated things in America are Mack trucks, teenage pussy, out what needed to be changed, and fully believed in the and the FBI." fundamental rightness of things as they had been when the As they say in Austin, that's ole Molly. I just wish I had individual entrepreneur and the farmer were America's kings. asked her if it was the Mack trucks part that offended the Sadly, we have one less lovable watchdog amid a shortage folks in Wichita. of good ones. The ranks, alas, are thinning—Art Buchwald and now Molly Ivins. The thought of slogging through the Mark Russell is a Washington political humorist.

Cooking with Molly by ELLEN SWEETS

Ilth. ather than whimper about my newfound extended my hand and said what I had planned to say. Her icky-city home, I resolved to join something smile broadened. She shook my hand and replied in that where I might meet kindred yellow-dog, unmistakably husky and resonant voice of hers, "Well hello populist spirits. So as soon as the Jefferson there, Ellen Sweets. My name is Molly Ivins." Day dinner ad appeared in the features With that, she extinguished the cigarette, took my arm, section, I made a note, sent a check, joined and explained that while she couldn't invite me to sit with the Dallas ACLU, and went along, repeating again and again, her, she would find some folks she thought I'd like. Like "Hello; my name is Ellen Sweets. I just moved here I don't dominoes, friends began to fall into place, most notably know a soul." I was still repeating it in my little pea brain John and Susan Albach, and Betsy Julian and her husband, when I parked, followed the signs, and arrived at the entrance. Ed Cloutman. When I didn't hang out with them and their Sitting on a stone bench on an unseasonably chilly evening Dallas crew, it was off to Austin. Spent so much time in the was a rather substantial woman. She looked up, smiled. I state capital people thought I lived there.

34 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 tin

From left: Kathleen Enright, Kathy Goldmark w/ Molly at the Molly Ivins-Honky Tonk Sweetheart SXSW Showcase, 1998. photo by Alan Pogue

One year we did a Cajun Thanksgiving, complete with a dull one. Molly's dinner parties were a thing to behold, seafood gumbo and turducken. We e-mailed plans back and whether duck a l'orange with leeks and pureed potatoes, or forth, planning a timetable for making the sweet-potato chili with cheese and sour cream, or barbecued chicken, casserole, the carrots sauteed in brown butter with shallots, potato salad, and slaw, or a standing rib roast and baby collard greens, baby brussels sprouts in Dijon-cream sauce, vegetables. mashed potatoes, and giblet gravy. The four-hour meal We drank, we talked, argued politics, embellished the ended with cherry and pumpkin pie, and various guests truth, and in all probability told outright lies. Several spread-eagled on the floor, bemoaning their lack of self- times I made it down for her beloved tree-trimming parties control. replete with Elvis ornaments. Who will ever forget Final Molly's house became my stopping place. We often Friday sing-alongs with the New Lost City Ramblers, or didn't do much of anything other than cook. The two of storytelling, or slam poetry evenings? us in a grocery store was often a double-barreled disaster. For all the varied meals we consumed around that We'd make a list and either forget to bring it or completely wonderful round table, from fried chicken to poulet misunderstand who was to get what. Cruising Central Basquaises, Molly always returned to two favorites when we Market, I'd think we needed more of this and less of that. cooked together: seafood gumbo and chicken soup. When She insisted my sense of proportion was totally without I visited her in December, I brought a container designed merit, so I'd sneak an extra something that she would then to get her through a couple of lunches. Molly promptly promptly remove. We became adept at pointing out the consumed the contents. We sat in the kitchen—Del Garcia, error of one another's shopping ways. Hope Reyna, and Betsy Moon—and reminisced about Molly's opprobrium was gentle and oblique, such that the Observer party that had been dedicated to Molly a few it often registered hours later that she had in fact called weeks earlier. We even managed to extract laughter from the me a twit. When she screwed up, I just sputtered, lest continuing idiocy of, well, you know who. some inappropriate vulgarity issue forth. A food writer's Native Americans have a belief that when a loved one dies, vocabulary is no match for that of a brilliant political the spirit remains for 12 months to guide the living through pundit. Deep breaths were especially in order when "Chef their pain. I will feel her breath over my shoulder when I Ellen" had to divine a way to stretch food for four into a make gumbo again, telling me I don't need okra and file meal for six—or sometimes eight or 10—by the time Miss powder. I'll remember her especially when I forget the list, Molly completed spontaneous invitations conveyed at a or snatch up an item that was never on it anyway. quarter past the last minute. Over many years and many, many meals, there was never Ellen Sweets is a food writer for The Denver Post.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 35 Funnier Than Me by JAMES K. GALBRAITH

IS he was only seven years older, which means crap. It dispelled fear. It remade how you tell truth and that when I moved here, she was barely 40. confront power. It forged the bonds that are only made with The hard part, now, is that we won't just go an earthy laugh. In this way, for most who read her and on appearing, sometimes side by side, always everyone who heard her speak, she broke the spell of the on the same side, in The Texas Observer. Bush years. The face of liberalism became Molly's face—and I used to go to the Final Fridays late, after who could resist it? the slam poets were done, after the party had quieted down My father loved her (and she him). They were exactly in some and mainly the bitter-enders were left, just so I could tune; he saw himself in her. Their purposes and their methods sit among the butts and bottles like a bad child and listen to and in some ways their backgrounds and much of their humor the rowdy tales and feel part of our group—the hard-core were the same. He never came to Austin without saying, "Fix liberals in Texas. And just so I could watch her flash that up lunch with Molly Ivins." Our last good meeting came after smile, and hear her call me sweetheart now and then. he died; though she was quite weak, I spent several hours Molly was our magnet, our long memory and our cutting diverting her with stories of his last days. Once or twice I edge. She had a fine, sharp pen, but she was at her best, I made a move to leave, but she didn't want to stop. think, at home, in company, spinning tales, honing her My new book is dedicated, "To Molly Ivins. Funnier than perfect comic pitch, that fine mix of the telling and tawdry me. that so captured the spirit of Texas. Of course she was never well-behaved in public either. And Economist James K Galbraith is a professor at the University of her tough, funny vulgarity did more than just cut through Texas at Austin.

36 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Driving with Miss Molly by DOUGLAS FOSTER

e met over the telephone nearly and fighting the cancer to a temporary standoff But in the 20 years ago, shortly after I was middle of the night, I woke to the sound of her shuffling hired as the editor of Mother Jones through the living room and rose to make sure she was OK. magazine. Her voice was, like She'd turned on her computer by the time I reached her her, big, blowsy, take-no-prisoners. office, trying to get her fingers to work in the hunt for the Couldn't understand but every third right keys to construct one last column. "Somebody has to word, though, what with the references to first thang and just say it," she announced, when she noticed I was there. \Vrats raht out of the trap, followed by subvocalized dipping "This president has slipped on his own dick." and bobbing that I presumed was meant to ward off the She played to her fans, of course, sometimes crudely. But faint at heart. Molly professed to having a little trouble she also regularly risked playing against type, warning making out my California accent. We persevered until knee-jerk liberals against anti-southern bigotry in one of I'd made my first assignment to her, which marked the the many pieces she wrote for me. In a passage about racial beginning of a two-decade long effort, full of cross-cultural politics, she noted, "You see more integration in the bowling missed communication, to understand one another. alleys—where the guys from Don's Cement or Dickey's Beer A month later she called up early one morning to say she Distributor wear the same team shirts and give each other couldn't turn in the story we'd discussed. "My psychiatrist high fives after a strike—than in the posh clubs." Molly says that if I have to do that piece I'm going to have a knew those guys from Don's Cement and Dicky's Beer nervous breakdown," she said. After a stunned moment or Distributor, and though she'd gone to college at Smith, loved two, though, I realized this novel excuse had been tailored the time she'd spent in Paris, and had been a reporter for The for the supposed sensibility of a Left Coast editor. I pointed New York Times, she never ran out of sympathy for them. out that I didn't think she had a psychiatrist. She called me Molly knew the peculiar flight patterns of southern a "sumbitch, like all the other goddamned editors," hung up, women, too, especially their fixation on clan relationships and sent along a beautiful essay on presidential politics in the and hunger for connection. She wrote in one of her columns: South the very next morning. (In later years she accused me "A few months ago in Mobile, Alabama, I stopped a lady in of having made up everything I've written in the previous the street and said, 'Ma'am, can you tell me how to get to the five sentences.) bus station from here?' She said, 'Why yes, honey, I can. You In the world of political reporters—no fancy-pants see that yellow house up at the corner? That's the old Jessup designation as a double-doming analyst for her—Molly had house there. Jefferson Jessup, he was in the grocery trade. assigned herself at least two pivotal roles by the time we got They had a daughter who married a boy from Montgomery. to know each other in the mid-1980s. In her thrice-weekly He had a brother who had a goiter, but everyone liked him syndicated column for the Dallas Times Herald, she pressed anyway ...' And with that she was off on the history of the a broad front of progressive causes—"an optimist to the entire Jessup clan, a compelling saga which I thoroughly point of idiocy," as she liked to say, in believing that Texans enjoyed." She had an ear as acute as Flannery O'Connor's might yet discover the angels of their better natures. She also and shared the appetite of understanding people from the knew how to sting, of course, which kept her boosterism for inside out. the Constitution from feeling overly saccharine. Consider In describing that woman from Mobile, she might have her dismissive commentary about the ending of the first been writing about herself. I come from a more WASP-ish President Bush's inaugural address, in which the president tradition, where the quickest way to express information opined about "the 'new breeze' turning the page of the is considered best. Molly invariably got her point across chapter in the unfolding story: "I was afraid for a minute through stories, a skill she polished by studying the there the winds of change would start blowing the sands of performances of her great hero, John Henry Faulk. The only time." problem was that she often answered a direct question about Her second important role was as a translator for those of some political development by telling you a long tale about a us who had a hard time otherwise understanding how the boyhood prank played by her beloved brother, Andy, or the same state led by Ann Richards and Jim Hightower could latest demented scheme cooked up by an old drunk in the also turn out a phony like W. She loved Texas, but she loved, Texas Legislature. Of course, you had to know who these almost as much, puncturing its pretensions. She took it people were to understand the story, so she filled you in personally that a second, less-skilled Bush had gotten past about all the family relationships at greater length than you her. A week before Christmas, I stayed over at her house. She might have thought possible. was struggling with her balance and her memory by then, When she moved to California for two months in the late

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 37 assessment of the state of our profession. Her scolding, on point and searing, made American journalism better. "The mortal sins of the press have always been our sins of omission, not our sins of commission, no matter what you may have heard about bias, hubris, or anything else," she wrote in an essay for me in 1990. "It is the stories we don't get, the ones we miss, pass over, fail to recognize, don't pick up on, that will send us to hell." Last December we drove out to spend the weekend on the ranch she bought some years ago with her brother. It's a flat, dry, beautiful stretch of land in the Hill Country west of Austin. On the ride there, we told stories—what else?—and stopped for ribs, sausage, marinated steak, tole slaw, and beans. (The beans were a mistake.) She spelled out her intention to beat the cancer—which she'd warded off for nearly a decade—until maybe age 70 or so. She said that she expected to be far more productive in the years to come, with more columns and books, because she'd managed to stay sober ever since a group of close and brave friends staged an intervention last year. Hers was an outlandish hope, but she specialized in outsized dreams. It was clear above the scrub brush for miles to the horizon, and the air smelled fresh. Even though she wasn't supposed to drive any longer, Molly perched herself in the seat of an all-terrain vehicle, revving the engine and roaring off. Her head was almost completely bald, with a few brave wisps of white hair that had resisted the chemotherapy blowing in the back draft. She wore faded black stretch pants and a worn turquoise turtleneck, looking a little like an 1990s to teach with me at the Journalism School at U.C. especially game biker-chick who'd watched Easy Rider one Berkeley, she felt flummoxed by the kinds of dinner parties too many times. we attended at the homes of journalists and faculty members. I lagged behind her on the other ATV, straining to listen There was far too little booze, far too many snippy quips in as she told me all about the Cow School she and Andy had which conversation resembled a tennis volley instead of real attended so they could become proper cattle ranchers, the engagement, too much holding forth, and too little singing, attributes of the herd they intended to build up, the trees too much quiet desperation, and not enough old-fashioned we were passing that she loved the most, and the drought carousing. The minute her teaching stint was over, she in Texas she attributed to climate change. When we headed for the airport early, homesick as anybody I've ever stopped in a grassy meadow for a few minutes, she turned seen. personal again, describing the persistent ache she felt over Our more-or-less annual explorations of the Napa, her nephew's recent death, and the worry she carried for the Sonoma, and Alexander valleys, which we announced we'd happiness of her brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew. undertaken "not for pleasure but for science," were her kind She roared off again in a dangerous figure eight between of adventure. We sampled wine widely, and well, and then the trees. It was a little like our first conversation; I could floated all afternoon in the Russian River, looking at clouds only make out every third sentence or so. During that crazy pass by and swapping stories about the most outlandish ride, Molly kept jamming the accelerator, tearing off on things that had ever happened to us. Sometimes she'd vanish curlicue jags, in and out of gullies, up steep climbs, driving from my life for half a year at a time. Just as I'd begin to faster than she had any business going. Dust billowed, and think our friendship was over, suddenly there she'd be again, she glanced back, grinning like a child. Somewhere between splashing around in the middle of the river in her big, black the willows and the creek, she lost me. She made her break one-piece bathing suit, telling me a long story about the for it, rat right out of the trap, indefatigable and unrelenting. night Maria Ramos inadvertently accepted a dance with the I lagged behind, navigating by the sound of her engine, devil. The smell of sulfur and the unshod, oversized hooves finding my own way home. were the giveaways, as it turned out. Molly was big as life, in so many ways—fierce in her Douglas Foster, a reporter and editor, is the former editor of attachments, personal and otherwise. She loved her work and Mother Jones magazine and associate professor at Medill School adored other journalists, but was routinely withering in her ofJournalism, Northwestern University.

38 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Helping Yankees Understand Molly by ANTHONY ZURCHER

olly Ivins is gone, and her words would invariably end up as comedic grist in future columns. will never grace these pages For a woman who made a profession of offering her again—for this, we will mourn. opinion to others, Molly was remarkably humble. She was But Molly wasn't the type of known for hosting unforgettable parties at her Austin home, woman who would want us to which would feature rollicking political discussions and grieve. More likely, she'd say impromptu poetry recitals and satirical songs. At one such something like, "Hang in there, keep fightin' for freedom, event, I noticed her dining table was littered with various Mraise more hell, and don't forget to laugh, too." awards and distinguished speaker plaques, put to use as If there was one thing Molly wanted us to understand, it's trivets for steaming plates of tamales, chili, and fajita meat. that the world of politics is absurd. Since we can't cry, we When I called this to her attention, Molly matter-of-factly might as well laugh. And in case we ever forgot, Molly would replied, "Well, what else am I going to do with 'em?" remind us, several times a week, in her own unique style. Perhaps the most amazing aspect of Molly's life is the love Shortly after becoming editor of Molly's syndicated she engendered from her legions of fans. If Molly missed a column, I learned one of my most important jobs was to column for any reason, her newspapers would hear about it tell her newspaper clients that, yes, Molly meant to write it the next day. As word of Molly's illness spread, the letters, that way. We called her linguistic peculiarities "Molly-isms." cards, and gifts poured in. Administration officials were "Bushies," government was Even as Molly fought her last battle with cancer, she in fact spelled "guvment," business was "bidness." And if continued to make public appearances. When she was too someone was "madder than a peach orchard boar," well, he weak to write, she dictated her final two columns. Although was quite mad indeed. her body was failing, she still had so much to say. Last fall, Of course, having grown up in Texas, all of this made before an audience at the University of Texas, her voice sense to me. But to newspaper editors in Seattle, Chicago, began as barely a whisper. But as she went on, she drew Detroit, and beyond—Yankee land, as Molly would say—her strength from the standing-room-only crowd until, at the folksy language could be a mystery. "That's just Molly being end of the hour, she was forcefully imploring the students Molly," I would explain and leave it at that. to get involved and make a difference. As Molly once wrote, But there was more to Molly Ivins than insightful political "Politics is not a picture on a wall or a television sitcom that commentary packaged in an aw-shucks Southern charm. In you can decide you don't much care for." the coming days, much will be made of Molly's contributions For me, Molly's greatest words of wisdom came with to the liberal cause, how important she was as an authentic three children's books she gave my son when he was born. female voice on opinion pages across the country, her In her inimitable way, she captured the spirit of each in one- passionate and eloquent defense of the poorest and the sentence inscriptions. In Alice in Wonderland, she offered, weakest among us, against the corruption of the most "Here's to six impossible things before breakfast." For Wind in powerful, and the joy she took in celebrating the uniqueness the Willows, it was, "May you have Toad's zest for life." And of American culture—and all of this is true. But more than in The Little Prince, she wrote, "May your heart always see that, Molly was a woman who loved and cared deeply for clearly." the world around her. Her warm and generous spirit was Like the Little Prince, Molly has left us for a journey of apparent in all her words and deeds. her own. But while she was here, her heart never failed to see Molly's work was truly her passion. She would regularly clear and true—and for that, we can all be grateful. turn down lucrative speaking engagements to give rally-the- troops speeches at liberalism's loneliest outposts. When she Anthony Zurcher is an Austin-based journalist who edited Molly's did rub elbows with the highfalutin well-to-do, the encounter column for Creators Syndicate.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 39

• photo by Thomas McConnell A Clarion Call by MAYA ANGELOU

Up to the walls of Jericho to have introduced her, had his flight canceled in a Southern She marched with a spear in her hand city. Norman Lear, founder of the organization, asked me Go blow them ram horns she cried to introduce her. I did not hesitate. I spoke glowingly about For the battle is in my hand Ms. Ivins for a few minutes, then, suddenly, a six-foot-tall, red-haired woman sprang from the wings. She strode onto ir he walls have not come down, but the stage and over to the microphone. She gave me an they have been given a serious shaking. enveloping hug and said, in that languorous Texas accent, That Jericho voice is stilled now. "Maya Angelou and I are identical twins, we were separated Molly Ivins has been quieted. at birth." The writer and journalist, dearly loved and I am also six feet tall, but I am not white. She was under admired by many, hated and feared by many, 50 when she made the statement, and I was in my middle died of cancer in her Texas home on Jan. 31, 2007. 60s, but our hearts do beat in the same rhythm. Whoever The walls of ignorance and prejudice and cruelty, which separated us at birth must know it did not work. We have she railed against valiantly all her public life, have not fallen, been in the struggle for equal rights for all people since but their truculence to do so does not speak against her we met on that Waldorf Astoria stage. We have laughed determination to make them collapse. together without apology and we have wept when weeping Weeks before she died, she launched what she called "an was necessary. old-fashioned newspaper crusade" against President Bush's I shall be weeping a little more these days but I shall never announcement that he was going to send more troops to forget the charge. Joshua commanded the people to shout Iraq. and the walls came tumbling down. She wrote, "We are the people who run this country. We Molly, are the deciders. Every single day every single one of us I am shouting, needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this With two voices, war. We need people in the streets banging pots and pans Walls come down! and demanding, `Stop it now!' " Walls come down! Years ago there was a fundraising gala for People for the Walls come down! American Way in New York, and Molly Ivins was keynote speaker. I was a loyal collector and serious Ivins reader, but I Reprinted from the Washington Post with permission from the had not met the author. Another famous journalist, who was author.

40 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Courage and Laughter by ANNE LAMOTT

hat is left to say? there for you. Starting now." Everyone knew and has said she She went to the phone and dialed Austin. She got an was legendary, big, and brilliant, answering machine: "Hey, Babe. This is Mole," she said, hilarious, with passionate, full- using her nickname from a childhood burrowed in books. body empathy, smart and loud and She paused, took a deep breath, and looked over at me. I unafraid; but only a few knew that nodded: good girl. You could always see the kid in her, right Wwhen she died, she'd been sober 18 months. on the surface of her big tall self. Eighteen months! It was the bronco ride of her life. The "I'm in San Francisco, Babe. Just thinking of you." Again bottle knew her well, but not many people did, and for her she paused. "No reason to call back," she blurted, "love you, to stay sober meant confronting more awful things than bye." Neither of us spoke. Cheney or Iraq; it meant telling much scarier truths. "That went well," I said after a moment. She was the bravest woman. She was my hero, my rodeo She smiled, chagrined. What a smile. What a dish. "Don't girl. The bottle couldn't hold down that huge a spirit, and I get credit for trying?" neither did having to give it up. She was astonishing when "No," I said. I brought her cup of tea to the bed and sat she was drinking, loud and blousy and brilliant, her head down beside her. "Call back," I said. "And tell the truth." held high as she threw the lights on for you, or threw back Molly had a calling to the truth, like others might to the her head in laughter at someone's story, hers or yours. She priesthood or poetry. For someone who had looked like had a mind like a diamond, and she understood the world of her as a girl, huge and gawky and ungainly, to have turned ghastly American politics more than anyone I ever knew. She herself into such a force for truth and goodness, well—she loved it even as she decried it. She took the most disgusting was astonishing. Her mind and wit and guts became her behavior, and she used it till her dying day to galvanize, to beauty. And I got to see once again that day that when heal. something tries to hold down a huge, sweet spirit, whether But she was even more astonishing sober. it's cancer or theocracy doing the holding, the more spirit is One day last August, having tea at her hotel, a month apt to jump up, like a jack-in-the-box. after her one-year sobriety birthday, we were reading one She cleared her throat and called back. She: "Babe? It's of our favorite books aloud to each other when she got that Mole. Call me back. I need to talk to you today." look that a few of you have seen, when she went from being He called right away, and she told him about the itty bitty brilliant, and on, from the Molly Show, to being quiet and lentil-sized things in her brain, which she was sure were not very, very focused. that big a deal. She cried: She loved this screwed-up, painful, She told me she had bad news—they'd found itty-bitty, beautiful, hilarious, strange life so much, and she wanted to lentil-sized things in her brain. That is a direct quote. We'd live, and the whole thing sucked, and that was the truth. all known the cancer was back and that it was gunning for I went into the bathroom to give her privacy and to hide her, but the tiny tumors in her brain were an end sign. from the pain. But pain was the reason she could write so Only a few people knew. Betsy Moon knew, of course. richly, so heartbreakingly, life-givingly about the poor, the Molly's longtime assistant, her "Chief of Stuff," as she called degraded, about Matthew Shepard and the people of New her, who single-handedly made it possible for Molly to be Orleans—because she got it, from inside. Molly in the bigger world, who had come with her to San It was the truth, her truth, and ours, and she told it just Francisco, as she went with Molly everywhere, with lists, about as well as anyone can. phone numbers, solutions, water. Afterward we sat together, dried our eyes, and talked about But Molly had accidentally forgotten to tell the people in things for a while. Then we called Betsy Moon and told her her family, such as her brother. to meet us for lunch. "You need to tell him now," I said. "Today." We had ruby cranberry drinks with soda and wedges of But she who had lived through so many tragedies, whose lime. Molly had a steak the size of a hardback book and personal values and fine, deep messy veins of humanity fries, which she sprinkled with vinegar. She ate with great had grown from loss and loneliness, couldn't bear to be the attention and pleasure, sharing with me and Betsy, patting reason people's hearts broke. her stomach and beaming when she was done. Delicious! "Now," I said. "You need them, and they need to know. The best way you can help them with this is to let them be Anne Lamott is a writer based in California.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 41 Molly requested that any contributions in her honor be made to The Texas Observer (The Molly Ivins Fund for Investigative Reporting)

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Words from Molly's Beloveds As the Observer went to press, almost 1,000 comments and remembrances of Molly had been posted to our web site. They came from around the world, from people who knew Molly personally and those who knew her through her writing. It's not possible to print them all, of course, but here are some of our favorites. You can read them all, and post your own, at www.texasobserver.org .

You GO Girl!! Have a blast and tell not know her well. In fact, she had Bill before security escorted her out. Jeannie that I love her, as if she doesn't so much energy that I was a little bit (Not one of the Secret Service's finer know. I know also that she's waiting for afraid of her, almost. Years later, Nolan moments.) you and has been for a while now. The Zavoral, a sports reporter at that time —Ron Weddington same breast cancer that claimed you related the following story to my wife: both has left me here almost twenty At a regular late night gathering of years to miss her. And now you too. But staffers at one of the editors' houses, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, and save me a place at that big beautiful someone asked, "Where's Molly?" The never mind the tear in my heart, but table. My guess is that she's got a brisket city editor (I think it would have been frankly, I'm just not quite ready for a on for you, and a pot of good coffee. Frank Premack) responded, "I sent her world without Molly Ivins. I'm just not. The love goes on. out to interview some Hell's Angels. I live in San Diego, a city wholly at —Ann Henson First time in my life I've ever felt sorry peace with its corruption. Republican for those bastards." country. When I noticed corruption at —Paul Anton the state court level I wrote and called Reading about Molly's death was a Chief Economist, Wilder Foundation my federal representative, Randy "Duke" paralyzing blow to this ex-pat Texan. Saint Paul, Minnesota Cunningham; who did not return my In summer 2001, she was keynote calls or answer my letters. speaker at the annual meeting of the Perhaps he was too busy counting his Special Libraries Association. She told I never agreed with anything she wrote bribe money. us about trying to figure out the best or said but CANCER SUCKS and I So I read Molly, who had the moral way to inspire South Austin "Bubbas" wish she was still here annoying the hell compass missing in modern reporters to join a breast cancer fundraiser. Her out of my red neck! just doing a rote job. Journalists not approach? "Men, we have a serious —P. Brian Sexton fighting to cover stories about social problem today. We are losing tits." justice and their editors who couldn't I think she said it worked, but we possibly care less, either. Molly's column were all laughing so hard I couldn't hear. The most important thing that I can do, provided a standard few really aspire to —Jan in Kentucky as a mother, is make sure that my two reach. Then tonight, as I was writing daughters grow up knowing, reading this, CBS's Katie Couric devoted all and loving Molly. of twenty or thirty words to Molly's I was a producer for the dreaded talk — Shelli Wright passing. Oh Katie; is it really too late radio "right-wing conspiracy" in Dallas- for you to learn, too? Fort Worth for many years. Molly was So I'd like to think of the number of always the perfect guest! Not only did Molly's audacious pursuit of a story people Molly inspired. She inspired me she NEVER turn down my interview was illustrated when just-elected Bill to create a website that shows how the requests (even when I knew she was Clinton had a luncheon with politicians, police profit from domestic violence. having a tough health day), she always movie stars and big contributors in (FamilyLawCourts.com/domestic.html) . left my hosts speechless, but loving her. January, 1993 at the famous Austin I'm not nearly as funny but my Facts She'd always ask me, "What's a nice girl watering hole, Scholz Garten. The press are spot on. like you doing booking redneck shows was excluded and Molly was beside Molly believed if you just kept like this??" and I believe it was so I herself as she sat outside the banquet writing the truth; it would eventually could book smart, brave, funny women room with those of us who hadn't been leak out. So every time I see a blogger like her. I'll miss you, Molly. invited. I suggested that she pose as breaking a news story, or a website, I —AnnMarie Petitto a waitress, never dreaming she would like to think Molly's courage to write do it. But she did. The proprietor's right, inspired them. daughter, Stacy Bales, provided a That she was Hilarious was just such I was a copyboy at the Minneapolis Scholz's tee shirt and a tray of beer a bonus. Tribune when she worked there. I did and Molly managed an interview with So, I'm not quite ready for a world

44 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 without Molly. And I'm a little annoyed that they had gone to as teenagers. Yes, Though I never met Molly, my special she's been called home. dear friends, Ivins was some sort of a fondness for her stems from the way —Bonnie Russell deb, although the details of her teenage her words helped my son and I through social life are now lost in my cluttered a difficult time in his life. He was mind. 14 years old and just home from the I went to a talk that Molly gave at I kept in touch with Ivins after I hospital after major back surgery for Texas Tech University in Lubbock. This moved back east, last seeing her for severe scoliosis and still in incredible was around 1998, I think. Anyway, she dinner a few months ago. I am having pain as we weaned him off morphine. was in full form and after thoroughly trouble coming to terms with her Sleep was rare so I stayed up and read bashing the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal passing, but know that we all have Molly's books to him throughout the she opened the floor for questions. to rally around the ideas that she night. At 3 a.m. you could have hear A young woman stood up and asked believed in and the progressive causes us laughing until we cried at her funny her to be more specific about what that she championed. There will never stories. Nothing else worked as well was so horrible about the Lubbock be another Ivins and the world is as Molly to get through those tough Avalanche-Journal as a newspaper and considerably smaller today. weeks. We both are forever grateful. to back up her earlier comments. —Norm Glickman She was the cat's meow, the bee's knees, Molly asked her name and the young the best of the best. woman replied "I am the journalist —Laurel Jacob from the AJ that is'covering your talk RIP, Molly. tonight for the paper." In your honor, I will get a Molly grinned really big and mammogram every year, and I will Several years ago, my two best friends said, "Okay, let's start with today's contribute for mammograms for and I were on our annual Girls paper." She picks up the copy of that women who cannot afford them. Tubing Trip down the Guadalupe. We days paper she happened to have and And in your honor, I will Raise More kept seeing this group of older folks, proceeds to dissect every factual and Hell. laughing, talking, drinking beer. We flat-out stupid error being made in each —Kathryn in Austin said to each other that we wanted to story just from the front page. be like that when we were older: Still She didn't have to go very far to tubing down the Guadalupe, laughing, make her point. Texas will always be the "biggest state", and drinking beer. One of my friends I will miss her wit and prose very and people like Molly are the reason. noticed that the loudest member of the much. She told it like it was and she will be party, the one getting out of the river —Mary Kay Bode missed. Molly always reminded me of and riding the various rope swings what I was told as a young immigrant along the route, was none other than kid, recently arrived from Switzerland: Molly Ivins. About 25 years ago, I came to Austin "Son, always marry a Texas girl . . . No I'll miss you, Molly. This year's Girls i. from Philadelphia to teach at the LBJ matter what happens, she's seen worse!" Tubing Trip will be the First Annual School. I met Molly a couple of months Rest in peace, Molly. Molly Ivins Memorial Tubing Trip. later at a neighbor's party for Erwin —Peter Feldmann And we'll keep our eyes out for a rope Knoll of The Progressive magazine. swing. The guests included all THE GOOD —Elizabeth Camp FOLKS–Jim Hightower, Johnny Faulk, Molly, you were the friend I felt, but a bunch of the Observer Crowd, and never knew. You came through ink and other Texas progressives. "This is too pixels and gave me respite from the So one day I was writing in the New good to be true," I thought. Molly kept madness of this time. A few seconds York Times newsroom and I saw this me real: "This is about it for Texas ago I heard you were pulled down the big handsome woman walking around progressives, the rest are in hiding." way. You may not want people fussing with bare feet. BARE FEET IN THE Over the next few years, I got to know over you. But just for a moment I'm TIMES NEWSROOM!! Who's that? I Molly–sometimes eating bad chili, going to keep sobbing, if it's ok. I miss said. Molly Ivins, somebody said. The drinking warm beer, and sharing sane you like a lost secret, already. You were one with the quick tongue and big ideas about politics and life. She wowed wonderful. Christ, I'm more weepy brain, I asked. Yeah, someone said. my LBJ students at lunchtime talks that now that when my childhood cat died. What's she doing here, I said. She works she gave. She was over to our house for Although, he was always crapping in here someone said. She works here in dinner one night with two wonderfully my house. So, you had a head start for BARE FEET, I said: Wait 'til Abe (Abe funny Texas ex-debs and they had my admiration. Back to sadness. I'll Rosenthal the dreaded Executive Editor) a riotous conversation (lasting until miss you, Molly. sees this. So we all pretended to work about 1 a.m.) about debutante balls —Pasha Morshedi while we waited for Abe to see Molly's

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 45 bare feet. When he did, he looked like media. I relished her columns because from my computer. he was swallowing a cow. Pretty soon of her unique ability to cut through to Then the computer asked me: "Are Molly decided that the NYT was not the heart of an issue with tremendous you sure you want to send Molly Ivins for her and she left us with the memory humor and clarity. On a personal to the recycle bin?" of Abe trying to swallow that cow and level, I wept because I was diagnosed Hardly know how to answer that. I've loved her ever since. three months ago with Inflammatory Not willingly, no. But I do hope her —Roger Wilkins Breast Cancer, the disease from which insights are recycled many times over in Molly ultimately died. On October the next two years. 31st, when I first googled IBC, their —Roger Bullard Molly as a young girl. Molly was one web site included a link to Survivors of my only two childhood friends. We and when I pulled down one of those went to camp together, we studied "survivor" pictures, there was Molly, It was a sad morning around the island in France together and she gave a one of my long-time icons. Reading in our kitchen Thursday last, upon hilarious toast at my wedding. There her characteristically mordant account learning of Molly's passing (I know I was no odder couple than the two of of her illness gave me hope that if she should refer to her as Ivins. However, us. She was so BIG ! I don't just mean could survive this disease with her she has been a fixture at that island for that she was at least a foot taller than spirit intact, then maybe I could too. I many years). Therefore, I will take the me, but she loomed large in every way. so admire her guts, her gumption, her liberty of referring to her as Molly. For She cared with all her heart and she intelligence and will greatly miss her many years my wife would read Molly's voiced her beliefs with all her mighty voice. column to me and we would laugh or might — even then. She was at least —Shelly Pearlman cry or both. Molly spurred us liberals 6' tall (or so it seemed from my 4'8 on. She allowed us to laugh at "W" and vantage point), she was a Southerner (I all his stupidity. She did not care what was a Yankee from Connecticut), she We're all going to miss you, Molly—rest others thought of her. She kept on was liberal Democrat and I lived a in peace. Or, if you'd prefer, feel free to keeping on. Mornings in my kitchen street over from Henry Cabot Lodge. haunt the White House. have lost a great friend. She was a brave and brawny brunette, —Kathy Goodfriend Give 'em hell up there, Molly. while I was a more sheltered but always —David Shafer enthusiastic little curly blonde tomboy. Somehow despite all of that, we were My daddy, John Henry Faulk, told a best friends through and through. Did lot of true, semi-true, & ought-to've- I never met Molly. I came to her you know she was a fabulous sailing been-true stories. Each one is a favorite columns and books late. At that time I skipper ? My memories have nothing in different mindsets. But a consistent was living in a trailer with my daughter, to do with her books and columns and best-of-the-best was his henhouse-black working hard, long hours and finding Pulitzer prizes, but nonetheless I am snake "scare you so bad it'll make you myself at times down, down, down. I awash with grief that she is not on this hurt yourself" story, which he told found one of her books at the library earth with me any more. It seems a less about the McCarthy-blacklisting era. and that night laughed out loud for the safe and rational place somehow, but I I can say nothing better about Molly first time in a long time. have saved the letters she wrote me as a than that she told that story pretty durn Since then I have read every column. young girl and take solace in them and near as good as Daddy did. If anyone I sit here looking at her name on my in the belief that we will be together remembers hearing her tell it count bookshelf with tears streaming down again -where size and hair still won't yourselves lucky. (I'm luckiest of all cuz my face. We have been together though matter. Rest in peace my special buddy I heard 'ern both.) Of course, all the breast cancer and the birth of my ! Signed, Admiral Gridley laughter was simply an encouragement grandson, the Clinton years and the —Barb Roberts to any of us to do, be better. Find more Bush years. I can't remember how many ways to be fairer, juster(?), kinder, more of her columns I've e-mailed to my helpful. Let's hold hands and promise to Senator or Representative. A couple of When my husband handed me the maintain and enlarge upon those efforts. times even to 'Shrub". She was so much New York Times obituary for Molly With Love & Appreciation, more articulate than I could ever be. Ivins yesterday morning, I burst into —Tanne Faulk Ryland But it was her integrity and humor that tears. Her death hit me very hard had me using her as my speechwriter. on two levels. First and foremost, of 1'11 miss her. course, she was one of the funniest, and Sadly, I moved to delete the —Donna Faught sharpest liberal voices we had in the longstanding Molly Ivins bookmark

46 THE TEXAS OBSERVER FEBRUARY 9, 2007 Molly and Bill Moyers. photo by Alan Pogue

There is Humor in Heaven by BILL MOYERS

What a foot-stompin' reunion there must be at this very be telling as we speak. moment in that great Purgatory of Journalists in the Sky. At a PBS meeting a few years ago, she ended her talk I can see them now—Ida Tarbell, Lincoln Steffens, Ray with a joke that would have gotten anyone else arrested or Stannard Baker, Upton Sinclair, Henry Demarest Lloyd, excommunicated. But she was carried out on the crowd's Ida B. Wells, David Graham Phillips, George Seldes, I. F. shoulders, as right now she is being ushered into the Council Stone, Walter Karp, Willie Morris—welcoming our darlin' of Ink-Stained Immortals, where the only religion is truth. to their bosoms. Oh, my, how she comes trailing clouds of Save some room up there, Molly: You have inspired us truth-telling glory! Look at her—big-hearted as ever, leaning earthbound wretches to keep trying to live up to your legacy over the balustrade and reaching down to the tormented of in the hope of joining you there one day. Hades, moistening Tom DeLay's lips, patting down Rick Perry's hair, erasing George W's sandstone scribblings. In Bill Moyers began his journalism career at the age of 16 as a cub the celestial light she glows as irrepressibly and vividly as she reporter for the Marshall News Messenger and over six decades did here on Earth, where she made the mighty humble, the has become one of the most influential journalists in America. wicked ashamed, and the good or boys reach for the barrel Today, he is president of The Schumann Center for Media and to hide their forlorn nakedness. And, oh, the stories she must Democracy.

FEBRUARY 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 47 I have a grandly dramatic vision of myself stalking through the canyons of the Big Apple in the rain and cold, dreaming about driving with the soft night air of East Texas rushing on my face while Willie Nelson sings softly on the radio, or about blasting through the Panhandle under a fierce sun and pale blue sky....I'll remember, I'll remember...sunsets, rivers, hills, plains, the Gulf, woods, a thousand beers in a thousand joints, and sunshine and laughter. And people. Mostly I'll remember people.

There is one thing, an important thing, I have to tell you before I go. What I'm going to tell you is more than a fact. It is a Truth. I have spent six years checking it out, and I know it to be true. The people who subscribe to The Texas Observer are good people. In fact, you're the best people in this state. I don't care if you think that's pretentious or sentimental—it's just true.

If I got to naming you, I would never stop, so I won't. But please believe me that all of you whom I know and many of you whom I know only by letter are in my mind as I write this—even if I do forget your names half the time. Always excepting, of course, the turkey who sends me hate mail after my annual gun- control editorial. Turkey, turkey, turkey.

I wanted to call this "The Long Goodbye" but Kaye won't let me. She wanted to call it "Ivins Indulges in Horrible Fit of Sentimentality."

The closing paragraphs of Molly's goodbye column to Texas Observer readers published June 18, 1976, as she left to join The New York Times.