Best Of :: People & Places
Too many community newspapers like to portray the places they cover as they would like them to be rather than as they really are. Not so The Seabreeze News. Publisher Gator Miller and Editor Steve Hoyland are muckrakers in the classical sense, and most issues feature investigative reporting of vital import to "Sunny San Leon," their two-fisted little "quaint drinking village with a serious fishing problem." In June, the paper broke the story about neighboring Texas City's secret plan to saddle the small unincorporated town with a huge sewage treatment plant; the month before that, the paper probed into the affairs of a local developer. But it's not all Woodward and Bernstein in the Seabreeze. There are plentiful fishing reports, humorous nuggets buried in the classifieds, and a police blotter complete with plenty of mug shots and smart-ass asides. And then there's "Dear Steve from Sunny San Leon," Hoyland's curmudgeonly Dear Abby-style mail-in column that has the potential to cause the spontaneous combustion of anyone with a shred of political correctness to them.
When Hurricane Ike was destroying lives and property in Galveston, one man thought to himself, A-ha! I can use this! And that man was Jacob Calle, although he is probably better known as Hurricane Bear. That's because he donned a bear costume with a pink bowtie and moonwalked along a Galveston beach while TV news crews were surveying the damage. It got him on CNN and in The Wall Street Journal. He sold T-shirts from his Web site and made himself available for parties — but he also included a link to the Red Cross's Web site, so people could donate. It's an interesting idea, and we're eagerly awaiting the appearance of Hurricane Platypus.
Heading up the public-health department for the third-largest county in the U.S. is never going to be an easy task, but Harris County brings its own special challenges, like hurricanes and, this year, its seeming to be Ground Zero for the swine-flu pandemic/panic (take your pick). Herminia Palacio handles these duties with competence and class — during Ike, she and staff members were at TranStar headquarters full-time; during Katrina she supervised operations at the Dome, an experience she still is asked to lecture about to public-health organizations nationwide. And when the swine flu hit, she worked closely with cities and school districts in her jurisdiction to keep things a lot calmer than they might have been. She's loved by her staff, and she keeps them up-to-date by ensuring they have the opportunity to get the latest training. Handling public-health issues in Harris County demands a calm and capable leader; luckily, we have one.
The idea of "best cemetery" may sound a bit grim, but there's nothing gloomy about Glenwood. It's just as much of a tranquil park and beautiful place to visit as it is a spot to bury loved ones. Built in what was then rural Houston in 1871, Glenwood's graves sit nestled amongst some of the city's only lush, rolling hills, which lead down to Buffalo Bayou off of Washington Avenue. Visitors can slowly drive along the winding roads throughout the cemetery underneath cascading trees and get a glimpse of where local and international luminaries are interred. Such notables include DeWitt Harris, for whom Harris County is named, former Texas governor William Hobby, Hollywood actress Gene Tierney Lee and billionaire eccentric Howard Hughes.
What Houstonian isn't proud of this beautiful, expansive, multifaceted park? Located on a former military camp where soldiers trained for battle in World War I, the park is dedicated to those soldiers' honor. Today, the park has something for just about everyone — an 18-hole golf course, 2.93-mile jogging trail, mountain bike paths, tennis, soccer, baseball, croquet, volleyball and a playground for kids. There's even a fitness center, with daily or monthly memberships that won't hurt your wallet. Or you can just chill in the Picnic Loop and people-watch.
Okay, you've committed a crime. Quick, check your shirt: Is the collar white? If so, there's only one attorney in town to contact: Joel Androphy. You may have seen him on TV as a legal expert both locally and nationally, but ironically enough, a lot of his most important work goes unnoticed. He specializes in whistleblower lawsuits, and while those suits often bring bad-behaving corporations to heel — and give help to people brave enough to take them on — they are usually settled with confidentiality agreements that prevent media coverage. And they are civil cases, so even though he's mostly known from criminal stuff, Androphy easily qualifies as a top-rank civil attorney. Besides whistleblowers, he is an expert on all types of corporate crime; he's honest, tough and knows how to get things done. If you've stabbed your crack dealer because he shorted you two rocks, Androphy's probably not your man, but if you find yourself in a courtroom because of things that happened in a classier setting, he's who you need to see.