CTroyMathis
09 February 2002, 09:26 PM
Copyright 2001 The New York Times Company
THINK of America's coolest, most exciting neighborhoods, and no place in Texas comes automatically to mind. That's a mistake. Just outside downtown Dallas is a 20-block concentration of shops, boutiques, bars, restaurants and nightclubs that pulsate with energy. The neighborhood, Deep Ellum, has emerged from a long period of neglect and decay. As recently as 20 years ago it was a dangerous place to go after dark. For a while after that it was punk heaven, with Mohawk haircuts and safety-pin earrings the look of choice. It still has some of that edge, but as it becomes a weekend destination for people from the Dallas area, it may suffer the fate of New York's SoHo and other once-hip neighborhoods that were overwhelmed with money, tourists and uptown chic.
People who care about the neighborhood are aware of this danger. After walking past a couple of tattoo parlors and a shop where the front window was full of outrageously vampy women's clothing, I found Hurdie Burk, a computer entrepreneur who is president of the Deep Ellum Association. He complained that he was having trouble keeping people from throwing beer bottles out of their windows during parties. But he also has more serious worries.
"We watched what happened in the Mission District in San Francisco very closely," he told me. "It got trendy, new businesses, and rich yuppies moved in, rents went through the roof, and people who had lived there for years were forced out. There were some pretty rough confrontations. We don't want that to happen here. We want the area to improve, but not to lose what makes it so great. We want to keep our synergy."
Good luck, Hurdie. Rents are rising in Deep Ellum, and the pace of loft conversions is picking up. A refrigeration supply company and a sheet metal store are about the only establishments left that recall the preboom days. When I walked into Trees, the club where Kurt Cobain sparked a near-riot in 1991 after a forceful encounter with a bouncer, the band surprised me by striking up its version of the easy-listening chestnut "Love the One You're With." Perhaps most ominous of all, a waitress at the Deep Ellum Cafe, one of the neighborhood's oldest restaurants, told me that although the jukebox there features Jane's Addiction and the Rev. Horton Heat, a rockabilly preacher with a cultlike local following, most patrons prefer Neil Diamond and Julio Iglesias.
Deep Ellum (the name is a corruption of Deep Elm, after Elm Street, one of its main thoroughfares) has a wonderfully rich history. At the turn of the century it was populated almost exclusively by black residents and was known as "the Harlem of the Southwest." It was a wide-open, anything- goes place. Its theaters, bars and dance halls drew entertainers, the most famous of whom was Blind Lemon Jefferson, one of the original blues heroes. Others who were fixtures over the years included Leadbelly, Josh White and Lightnin' Hopkins.
Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe also found their way to Deep Ellum, further enriching the social mix. Some opened pawnshops and others ran tailor shops where blacks could try on clothes, something they could not do in other parts of the city. Soon this was one of the few places in this part of the country where races mixed with relative ease. A local folk song first recorded in the 1930's suggested its seductive appeal: "Once I knew a preacher, preached the Bible through and through/ But he went down in Deep Ellum, and now his preachin' days are through."
For many years Deep Ellum had a railroad depot, which added to its role as a hub for drifters. The depot is long gone, but on a brick wall overlooking a parking lot, partly covered by graffiti, I was able to make out faded block letters that read: "Texas & Pacific Railway. Elegant Passenger Service. 23 Hours to St. Louis. Free Reclining Chair Cars."
In the Depression years, more than a few Deep Ellum denizens turned to crime. Some became legends, among them Baby Face Nelson, George (Machine Gun) Kelly and the trigger-happy lovers Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. In a transition that perfectly reflects the neighborhood's transition, the flophouse where Bonnie and Clyde lived is now a photo gallery.
The neighborhood has an architectural ambience that recalls the 1930's. Most of the buildings are low-rise, unpretentious but in many cases very handsome. Some are of wood, others brick or stone. The streets are wide, built that way to accommodate what was once thriving street commerce. Because so many of its buildings are old and so few have been allowed to decay, Deep Ellum feels sturdy and resilient.
During the day, Deep Ellum is a wonderful place to stroll.
Galleries offer a variety of work, with Stephanie's Collection an especially good place to see the work of Texas artists. There is a shop that sells Mexican handicrafts, another that specializes in goods from Tibet. A third offers American Indian jewelry; a sign on the door of the shop, called Silver Feather, gives Saturday and Sunday opening hours and adds "We will be open weekdays as life permits."
Another sign, over the case that holds several elegant old hats at an antiques store on Main Street called Cool Junk, says "Serious shoppers are invited to try on hats, others hands off." This is one of several antiques shops that have sprouted in Deep Ellum, catering in part to the people who are moving in. There is also a variety of stores that sell old and new furniture. Some are highly personalized reflections of their owners' individual tastes, like Jackson Ivey- Jackson Interiors, on Elm Street, which advertises not just furniture but also items classified as "interior cosmetics."
The choice of restaurants in Deep Ellum is daunting. They range from dirt-cheap dives to pricey spots where reservations are required. You can eat at Japanese, Brazilian or Vietnamese places, but during my stay I concentrated on the Tex-Mex food that is the local specialty.
Depending on whom you ask, the best of this cuisine is to be found at either Monica's Aca y Alla or Sol's Taco Lounge. Monica's is more upscale, Sol's is funkier. Monica's features live music Thursday through Sunday, but Sol's has the best jukebox in town. Both places have signs behind the bar warning that carrying firearms is forbidden. Monica's is the better-known place, and caters to a stylish crowd with its red walls and golden serpent painted in one corner. I chose a typically creative dish: spinach jalapeño fettuccine with chicken, roasted corn, cilantro, whole black beans and tomato in a béchamel sauce. It was just as rich a banquet of flavors as it sounds, making it clear why people from all over Dallas come to Monica's.
The Mexican food at Sol's is more traditional, and the atmosphere a bit looser. I sat at the bar, watched a basketball game on TV and feasted on a combination plate that included a spicy stuffed jalapeño pepper, nachos with cheese, a rich quesadilla stuffed with peppers, tomato and guacamole, a couple of chicken wings and wonderful flautas, which are lightly fried tortillas stuffed with seasoned chipped beef. Many customers at Sol's are regulars; a guy who came in and sat next to me turned the menu away and told the bartender: "I know what I want. Give me a bottle of Corona, two chicken enchiladas, a crispy beef taco and a side of beans." Five minutes later he was feasting.
After dark, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, Deep Ellum really comes alive. Streets are full of revelers, ranging from the genuinely grungy to uptown hipsters. Several tattoo parlors and piercing salons stay open until 2 a.m. on weekends. There are a dozen clubs where live bands play until very late. Many feature two or three a night. Styles run the gamut, with straight-ahead punk-influenced rock 'n' roll the favorite. During a few nights of wandering from one club to another, I was able to hear blues, reggae and even soft ballads from the 1940's.
The best-known club in Deep Ellum is still Trees, which on the weekend I was there featured a leading Texas band, Sister 7, along with two others. It is a cavernous room with a few pillars half-heartedly disguised as trees, but what it lacks in décor it makes up, at least on good nights, with music.
An even larger and louder club a couple of blocks away is divided into two venues, the Liquid Lounge and the Curtain Club. It often features lesser-known bands with intriguing names like Slow Roosevelt, Porn Lab and Red Animal War. For a change of pace I retreated to Club Dada, where I was able to sit at a table and listen to a sweet-voiced singer named Courtney Fairchild whose torch songs were a lovely antidote to the blasting rock music at nearby clubs.
Although the nightclubs in Deep Ellum have emerged only over the last decade, they are actually throwbacks to the days when this neighborhood was a hotbed of musical experimentation. In the early years of the 20th century, according to one historian, the area "was a magnet for musicians of every racial and cultural background" and became "the most visible example of the interaction of cultures that defines Texas music."
Deep Ellum may someday become bland and boring, but there is plenty of time to visit before that happens. Shops, cafes, galleries and nightclubs combine to give it a vibrant and exciting ambience. The colorful figures who made it famous many decades ago would probably still feel at home there.
Copyright 2001 The New York Times Company
THINK of America's coolest, most exciting neighborhoods, and no place in Texas comes automatically to mind. That's a mistake. Just outside downtown Dallas is a 20-block concentration of shops, boutiques, bars, restaurants and nightclubs that pulsate with energy. The neighborhood, Deep Ellum, has emerged from a long period of neglect and decay. As recently as 20 years ago it was a dangerous place to go after dark. For a while after that it was punk heaven, with Mohawk haircuts and safety-pin earrings the look of choice. It still has some of that edge, but as it becomes a weekend destination for people from the Dallas area, it may suffer the fate of New York's SoHo and other once-hip neighborhoods that were overwhelmed with money, tourists and uptown chic.
People who care about the neighborhood are aware of this danger. After walking past a couple of tattoo parlors and a shop where the front window was full of outrageously vampy women's clothing, I found Hurdie Burk, a computer entrepreneur who is president of the Deep Ellum Association. He complained that he was having trouble keeping people from throwing beer bottles out of their windows during parties. But he also has more serious worries.
"We watched what happened in the Mission District in San Francisco very closely," he told me. "It got trendy, new businesses, and rich yuppies moved in, rents went through the roof, and people who had lived there for years were forced out. There were some pretty rough confrontations. We don't want that to happen here. We want the area to improve, but not to lose what makes it so great. We want to keep our synergy."
Good luck, Hurdie. Rents are rising in Deep Ellum, and the pace of loft conversions is picking up. A refrigeration supply company and a sheet metal store are about the only establishments left that recall the preboom days. When I walked into Trees, the club where Kurt Cobain sparked a near-riot in 1991 after a forceful encounter with a bouncer, the band surprised me by striking up its version of the easy-listening chestnut "Love the One You're With." Perhaps most ominous of all, a waitress at the Deep Ellum Cafe, one of the neighborhood's oldest restaurants, told me that although the jukebox there features Jane's Addiction and the Rev. Horton Heat, a rockabilly preacher with a cultlike local following, most patrons prefer Neil Diamond and Julio Iglesias.
Deep Ellum (the name is a corruption of Deep Elm, after Elm Street, one of its main thoroughfares) has a wonderfully rich history. At the turn of the century it was populated almost exclusively by black residents and was known as "the Harlem of the Southwest." It was a wide-open, anything- goes place. Its theaters, bars and dance halls drew entertainers, the most famous of whom was Blind Lemon Jefferson, one of the original blues heroes. Others who were fixtures over the years included Leadbelly, Josh White and Lightnin' Hopkins.
Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe also found their way to Deep Ellum, further enriching the social mix. Some opened pawnshops and others ran tailor shops where blacks could try on clothes, something they could not do in other parts of the city. Soon this was one of the few places in this part of the country where races mixed with relative ease. A local folk song first recorded in the 1930's suggested its seductive appeal: "Once I knew a preacher, preached the Bible through and through/ But he went down in Deep Ellum, and now his preachin' days are through."
For many years Deep Ellum had a railroad depot, which added to its role as a hub for drifters. The depot is long gone, but on a brick wall overlooking a parking lot, partly covered by graffiti, I was able to make out faded block letters that read: "Texas & Pacific Railway. Elegant Passenger Service. 23 Hours to St. Louis. Free Reclining Chair Cars."
In the Depression years, more than a few Deep Ellum denizens turned to crime. Some became legends, among them Baby Face Nelson, George (Machine Gun) Kelly and the trigger-happy lovers Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. In a transition that perfectly reflects the neighborhood's transition, the flophouse where Bonnie and Clyde lived is now a photo gallery.
The neighborhood has an architectural ambience that recalls the 1930's. Most of the buildings are low-rise, unpretentious but in many cases very handsome. Some are of wood, others brick or stone. The streets are wide, built that way to accommodate what was once thriving street commerce. Because so many of its buildings are old and so few have been allowed to decay, Deep Ellum feels sturdy and resilient.
During the day, Deep Ellum is a wonderful place to stroll.
Galleries offer a variety of work, with Stephanie's Collection an especially good place to see the work of Texas artists. There is a shop that sells Mexican handicrafts, another that specializes in goods from Tibet. A third offers American Indian jewelry; a sign on the door of the shop, called Silver Feather, gives Saturday and Sunday opening hours and adds "We will be open weekdays as life permits."
Another sign, over the case that holds several elegant old hats at an antiques store on Main Street called Cool Junk, says "Serious shoppers are invited to try on hats, others hands off." This is one of several antiques shops that have sprouted in Deep Ellum, catering in part to the people who are moving in. There is also a variety of stores that sell old and new furniture. Some are highly personalized reflections of their owners' individual tastes, like Jackson Ivey- Jackson Interiors, on Elm Street, which advertises not just furniture but also items classified as "interior cosmetics."
The choice of restaurants in Deep Ellum is daunting. They range from dirt-cheap dives to pricey spots where reservations are required. You can eat at Japanese, Brazilian or Vietnamese places, but during my stay I concentrated on the Tex-Mex food that is the local specialty.
Depending on whom you ask, the best of this cuisine is to be found at either Monica's Aca y Alla or Sol's Taco Lounge. Monica's is more upscale, Sol's is funkier. Monica's features live music Thursday through Sunday, but Sol's has the best jukebox in town. Both places have signs behind the bar warning that carrying firearms is forbidden. Monica's is the better-known place, and caters to a stylish crowd with its red walls and golden serpent painted in one corner. I chose a typically creative dish: spinach jalapeño fettuccine with chicken, roasted corn, cilantro, whole black beans and tomato in a béchamel sauce. It was just as rich a banquet of flavors as it sounds, making it clear why people from all over Dallas come to Monica's.
The Mexican food at Sol's is more traditional, and the atmosphere a bit looser. I sat at the bar, watched a basketball game on TV and feasted on a combination plate that included a spicy stuffed jalapeño pepper, nachos with cheese, a rich quesadilla stuffed with peppers, tomato and guacamole, a couple of chicken wings and wonderful flautas, which are lightly fried tortillas stuffed with seasoned chipped beef. Many customers at Sol's are regulars; a guy who came in and sat next to me turned the menu away and told the bartender: "I know what I want. Give me a bottle of Corona, two chicken enchiladas, a crispy beef taco and a side of beans." Five minutes later he was feasting.
After dark, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, Deep Ellum really comes alive. Streets are full of revelers, ranging from the genuinely grungy to uptown hipsters. Several tattoo parlors and piercing salons stay open until 2 a.m. on weekends. There are a dozen clubs where live bands play until very late. Many feature two or three a night. Styles run the gamut, with straight-ahead punk-influenced rock 'n' roll the favorite. During a few nights of wandering from one club to another, I was able to hear blues, reggae and even soft ballads from the 1940's.
The best-known club in Deep Ellum is still Trees, which on the weekend I was there featured a leading Texas band, Sister 7, along with two others. It is a cavernous room with a few pillars half-heartedly disguised as trees, but what it lacks in décor it makes up, at least on good nights, with music.
An even larger and louder club a couple of blocks away is divided into two venues, the Liquid Lounge and the Curtain Club. It often features lesser-known bands with intriguing names like Slow Roosevelt, Porn Lab and Red Animal War. For a change of pace I retreated to Club Dada, where I was able to sit at a table and listen to a sweet-voiced singer named Courtney Fairchild whose torch songs were a lovely antidote to the blasting rock music at nearby clubs.
Although the nightclubs in Deep Ellum have emerged only over the last decade, they are actually throwbacks to the days when this neighborhood was a hotbed of musical experimentation. In the early years of the 20th century, according to one historian, the area "was a magnet for musicians of every racial and cultural background" and became "the most visible example of the interaction of cultures that defines Texas music."
Deep Ellum may someday become bland and boring, but there is plenty of time to visit before that happens. Shops, cafes, galleries and nightclubs combine to give it a vibrant and exciting ambience. The colorful figures who made it famous many decades ago would probably still feel at home there.
Copyright 2001 The New York Times Company