September 18, 1997 |
How best to sing the praises of a city dug from a swamp? Houston is humid and flat and crawling with bugs. Houses sink. Streets flood. Mosquitoes, day and night, crave human blood. All of which could be overlooked as long as oil was king in the '60s and '70s, when the population grew by 200 people a day and profits flowed like sweat through a crisp cotton shirt. Nobody, after all, came here for the scenery; they came to get rich. By the '80s, the boom had become a bust.