turning the tables on Houston
 

Houston's business leaders could hardly believe their eyes.  They were flabbergasted.  Right under their noses, that damn George Mitchell had appropriated the cruise industry that by all rights belonged to them.  The nerve!  Watching this upstart snatch this monumental prize from their grasp had to sting.  This was a man who had made his great fortune in Houston no less.  Traitor!!

One has to wonder why these men were so outraged.  Did any of Houston's business leaders spend 15 years and invest $100,000 of their own money to win this prize?  No, of course not.  But since when did business ethics matter?

Here was the problem.  As a long-time Houston resident, I can report the Bayou City does not have a clue when it comes to Tourism.  Thanks to Houston's thriving economy, it is a good place to work and raise a family.  But when it comes to inviting relatives and friends to visit, in my opinion Houston has little sightseeing to offer.

I feel sorry for my home town.  No mountains, no hills, no lakes, no rivers.  And no apparent inclination to beautify either.  Although Houston's climate grows abundant trees, we decimate entire forests in order to build more freeways.  The concept of railway used widely in every other parts of the world seems largely lost on Houston.   Plus we do senseless things.  Can you believe we tore down the city's popular water park and rollercoaster amusement park?  30 years later we still have nothing to replace them.  Nor can anyone figure out a practical use for the obsolete Astrodome.  I am embarrassed to say I cannot think of a single thing of compelling interest to draw tourists to our town on a consistent basis.  Everyone knows if you want to have fun in Texas, go to San Antonio for margaritas and music along the sexy Riverwalk.  Or try the Six Flags amusement park in Dallas.  Or take a Galveston cruise.

Given that Houston lacks the slightest ounce of imagination when it comes to luring tourists to the Bayou City, what was there to do?  Hey, let's copy Galveston!  Indeed, the idiots on Houston's city council decided to steal Galveston's tourists.  Not a visionary in the bunch.  More likely a well-heeled mover and shaker secretly lined pockets to make it in someone's best interest to vote yes.  Sorry, but considering how shameful this decision was, I have no choice but to be cynical.  Whatever the reason, Houston authorities plotted to take over Galveston's thriving tourism industry.  They were convinced Houston could easily poach that business.  After all, Jesse H. Jones stole the shipping industry from Galveston one hundred years ago.  If it worked once, hey, let's do it again.  Brilliant!

Galveston is a very small city compared to Houston.  It took a major effort for Galveston to put together the package necessary to build the original cruise ship terminal.  Houston on the other hand is very wealthy.  We build sports arenas at the drop of a hat.  Some cities combine baseball and football stadiums into one facility.  Not Houston.  Our Football stadium and Baseball park are not only separate, they have fancy retractable roofs plus air-conditioning.  Our Basketball arena and Soccer park are state of the art facilities.  So were there any misgivings over building an expensive cruise terminal?  A voice or two of discontent, but no one listened. 

If we build it, they will come!   At the cost of $108 million dollars, Houston's Bayport Cruise Terminal opened to great fanfare in 2008. 

So how did the Grand Experiment turn out?  It failed miserably.  This was not much of a surprise to one man in particular.  State Senator John Whitmire had argued hard against it.

"No one with common sense will build cruise ship capacity where you have to go inland to pick up your passengers.

It is pointless to build an expensive facility when there is already a far better option for cruising out of Galveston."

Alas, State Senator Whitmire was whistling in the wind.  Similar to the immortal Cassandra, the seer who warned the Trojans to leave the suspicious horse outside the wall, no one paid a bit of attention to Whitmire.  As a result, $108 million dollars went down the drain.  

In hindsight, the Bayport Terminal was a colossal mistake.  For one thing, it was easier for someone driving in from Dallas or San Antonio to reach Galveston than it was Bayport.  Even the Houstonians preferred Galveston.  Pretty.  More fun.  Easier to get to.  Nice hotels.  Nice beach.  More things to do. 

Galveston had a beach and tourist attractions, Bayport had nothing.  Plus everyone was already used to driving to Galveston, so why bother to change?

Houston refused to give up.  By offering exorbitant discounts, several cruise lines were persuaded to give Bayport a try.  It did no good.  The numbers were so anemic that by 2014 there were no ships left.  For the next two years, the terminal sat empty with weeds growing in the parking lot.  Not one nibble from the cruise industry.  After two years of unsuccessfully persuading a single cruise line to try again, in 2016 Houston gave up trying.

The irony involved in the Bayport story is overwhelming.  After eight years of futility, the terminal sits there doing nothing.  Meanwhile Galveston has had to add two new terminals in order to handle all the extra ships that preferred to call this port home.  And so Houston's attempted takeover failed miserably.  It makes me happy.  No one likes a bully.  This greedy, low-minded maneuver became a $108 million dollar embarrassment.

I find considerable Karmic Justice in Houston's failure to poach the cruise industry.  The question I have is why couldn't Houston have tried to be friends with Galveston rather than be its enemy?  That wasted $108 million would have made a nice down payment on a Houston to Galveston rail system connecting Houston's airports to Galveston's cruise terminals. 

In Hindsight, you have to wonder what the so-called smartest guys in the room were thinking.  Maybe they were former Enron executives.  Ouch.  They call Houston the Space City, but given the level of stupidity involved, maybe the nickname references the empty space in our leader's brains.  Not once in eight years did anyone discover a single advantage of using Bayport over Galveston.  Meanwhile, I have a secret wish.  Oh, how I would have loved to ask George Mitchell what he thought about the Bayport collapse.  That would be so delicious.

The cruise ships were Mitchell's master stroke, but he also deserved serious credit for reviving the hotel industry.  Citizens of Austin, Dallas and San Antonio love Galveston!  The chance to escape the heat and hit the beach prior to their cruise is a very appealing option.  I might add that even Houstonians have learned to try the hotel option as the perfect way to sidestep the Harborside traffic snafu.

As Mitchell hoped, Texans have learned to come early and stay overnight at hotels like the Tremont, the Harbor House, and others nearby.  In addition to the "400 Yards" walking benefit, there are so many things to do.  A day at the beach, a visit to Moody Gardens, seafood on the Strand.  However, the biggest advantage is the dramatic reduction in wasted time.  On Departure Day, well-rested passengers can leave their cars safe at the hotel, walk a couple blocks, cross Mitchell's bridge and laugh at all the cars stuck in gridlock below.  If they leave early, they can avoid long registration lines and head straight to their ship. 

A newspaper article in Galveston Monthly commented on Galveston's rebirth. 

"Following the economic problems of the 1960s, a massive collective effort would be required to fully rescind Galveston’s fragile history from the brink of obliteration.  Continuing the forward progress made on the Strand in the 1970s, the name that would ultimately define Galveston in the 1980s was one that conjures sincere affection and deep respect in the hearts and minds of local residents—George P. Mitchell. 

While he did not discount the value of the Seawall and its attractions, Mitchell’s faith in the city’s future was grounded in the potential of the historic downtown known as the Strand. Mitchell's unbridled enthusiasm for restoring this area to prominence was prompted by a deep love for his hometown."  -- Galveston Monthly

Who but George Mitchell had the power to create a "massive collective effort"?  Thanks to the tremendous influx of tourists, Galveston is free from Houston's large shadow.  A major symbol of Galveston's rebirth is the Tremont House.  In 1981 the Mitchells purchased the aging building and restored it to perfection.  They timed the 1985 hotel reopening to coincide with the return of Mardi Gras to Galveston.  What an important moment that must have been for the Mitchells.  Galveston was so full of joy, even the missing ghosts returned for the party.

This has been the Tale of Two Cities.  What goes around comes around.  The Great Storm gave Jesse Jones the chance to rob the shipping industry from Galveston.  George Mitchell returned the favor by luring the cruise industry to Galveston.  It took 100 years, but thanks to George Mitchell, the man who turned the tables on Houston, Galveston was able to get the last laugh. 

In the process Galveston regained its momentum and purpose.  One million tourists per year.  Amazing.  The success of Galveston's tourist industry augurs a bright future of economic prosperity for this once beleaguered island.  Galveston is already America's fourth largest cruise port.  Who knows, as Texas continues to prosper, Galveston may someday become the largest cruise port in the country. 

GALVESTON RENAMES ITS CAUSEWAY
FOR GEORGE AND CYNTHIA MITCHELL
z

The Galveston Causeway is a long two-mile bridge that connects Galveston Island to mainland Texas.  Compare that to the Golden Gate Bridge, 1.7 miles long.

The Causeway is incredibly important because it is only direct way to get on and off the island.  It serves as the direct link between Houston and Galveston.  There is a ferry that operates at the far end of the island, but it would be of limited use in an emergency.

Considering that the Causeway is Galveston's lifeblood, it is only fitting that it now bears the name of its greatest citizen. 

John Wayne Ferguson | Galveston County Daily News | October 25, 2016

Sheridan Mitchell Lorenz remembers driving across the Causeway with her parents as a child.  The family, 10 kids, needed two cars to get everyone from Houston to the island.  Everyone would get giddy when they reached the causeway bridge because it was their door to Galveston,  home away from home.  Galveston was where they came to hit the beach and have fun.

One day Sheridan's mother Cynthia was pulled over for going too fast on the bridge.  One minute later her father was stopped for the same offense. Two police officers asked Mr. Mitchell why he was speeding so fast.

“Dad said, ‘Officer, I was chasing my wife to tell her to slow down.’”

When the policemen recognized Mitchell, they laughed and tore up Mom's ticket.  “That's Dad for you.  We got away with speeding.  The bridge to Galveston is a reminder of great memories for the Mitchell family."

Today the bridge officially bears the name of Sheridan’s parents.  State Senator Larry Taylor commented, "This should have been done a long time ago.  George Mitchell is a true American hero and I can’t think of a better way to honor him and his wife."

rick archer meets HIS FUTURE wife
 

I separated from my wife on Christmas Eve in Year 2000.  It was her idea, not mine.  We weren't getting along, but I am one those stick in out for the good of the child.  Five months later, May 2001, I was divorced.  With my personal life on the rocks, I focused on finding ways to improve my dance studio.  In early 2001 I heard a rumor that the cruise industry had come to Galveston at the tail end of 2000.  As an experiment, I organized an August 2001 dance cruise leaving out of Galveston.  This turned out to be a great idea.  100 students from SSQQ (slow slow quick quick) joined me for the trip. 

The guests included a woman named Marla.  During her time as a student in one of my dance classes, I had developed a secret crush on her.  Only one problem.  Marla had a boyfriend of six years.  Fresh off a divorce, I was in no mood to fight an uphill struggle, so I kept my distance.  The thing that bothered me was that the boyfriend remained nowhere in sight.  Marla always came to the studio alone for dance class.  For that reason, I suspected there might be problems between them.

In early April Marla signed up for my August dance cruise without her boyfriend.  Hmm.  Maybe there was a chance for me after all.  When I asked why she was going alone, Marla said her boyfriend did not dance nor was he a fan of cruise trips.  Then she added that things were fine between them.  Darn it.  Just my lousy luck.  I don't why, but I continued to cling to hope that something was wrong.  Not that Marla encouraged me.  She had no idea that I had a crush.  March to August, Marla never showed a flicker of interest in me.  Whenever I spoke to her at the studio, Marla was invariably cordial.  However there was not a spark of interest in her eyes, a pattern that remained unbroken for six months.

To my surprise, something very curious took place 10 days before the cruise was scheduled to begin.  One morning Marla phoned me to request a private dance lesson.  Oh my God!  My heart leapt for joy.  Unfortunately, my joy was short-lived.  When I asked Marla for details, she replied, "My boyfriend just won an all-expenses paid trip to Miami for the coming weekend.  I said I would go with him if he promised to take me dancing.  I want you to teach my boyfriend how to dance Salsa."

Marla's reply was a dagger to the heart.  Obviously the boyfriend was still very much in the picture.  Realizing my interest in Marla was doomed, I gave her the number of another instructor, then fell deep into depression.

On the first night of the trip, I saw Marla at dinner.  When she smiled at me, I had a sudden renewal of hope.  But then I noticed Marla was darker than chocolate.  Miami.  Of course.  Just to be sure, I asked Marla how she got to the ship.  Marla replied, "I spent last night at my boyfriend's house.  He drove me to the cruise ship this afternoon.  My car is resting safely in his driveway as we speak."

That was the moment I gave up all hope.  Discouraged and feeling sorry for myself, I returned to my cabin to sulk.  The irony was overwhelming.  The two or three women from the studio I was interested in besides Marla had already lined up someone else.  Unless I looked elsewhere, I was going to be very lonely.  That is when I noticed there was a singles dance scheduled in the Disco that night at Midnight.  Despite my pessimism, I realized this was probably my last decent chance to meet someone.  With a heavy heart, I got dressed and reluctantly pressed the elevator button.

To my astonishment, the moment I walked in at the stroke of Midnight, I saw Marla standing alone across the room.  Realizing she was headed for the exit door, I raced to intercept her.  Long ago I had learned the fastest way to get a woman I barely know in my arms is ask her to dance.  To my delight (and surprise), she accepted.  Moments later I had Marla in my arms.  They say that any man who learns to dance has a chance.  It turns out that axiom is true.  This was the moment we fell in love.  Marla and I became inseparable from that moment on. 

What could explain Marla's sudden change of heart?  Poor Marla, I suppose her guard was down.  Ocean cruises are said to have a strong effect on women.  Women become unusually receptive to dancing in the arms of an attractive man, especially in the dark.  With stars peeking through the clouds, a dangerous mood sets in.  As moonlight glistens off the waves, the powerful Moonglow Effect softens women.  If romantic music is present and the man knows what he is doing, women are rendered especially vulnerable.  Someone could very easily lose a heart tonight.

Pity the ex-boyfriend.  I guess no one had ever explained the danger to him.  It seems the boyfriend had made a serious mistake.  Never let a woman of Marla's beauty take a Singles Dance Cruise by herself.  I might add the mysterious circumstances surrounding our chance encounter strongly suggested to me that Fate was involved.  In case you are curious, I shared the full details of this unusual story in my book Gypsy Prophecy. 

When Marla and I decided to get married three years later, we wanted to bring things full circle.  Since we had met on a Galveston cruise, we wanted to have our wedding aboard a Galveston cruise ship as well.  In September 2004, 30 friends and family drove down from Houston to Galveston to witness the ceremony.  After the reception, our friends drove home while we stayed aboard for our honeymoon.  The last people to say goodbye were my daughter Samantha, 13, and Marla's daughter Marissa, 21.  Since both girls were in school, they could not join us on the weeklong trip.  After a tearful round of happy goodbyes, Sam and Marissa headed back to Houston.

Just like that, Marla and I were alone.  We were happy of course, but totally exhausted from a long day which had started before dawn.  Too tired to return to our cabin, we collapsed on a comfy couch in the Centrum area of the ship.  Still dressed in our wedding attire, we sat there totally unable to find the strength to get up.  Thirty minutes later we still had not moved. 

It was 5 pm at this point.  Just then an announcement for the life boat drill came over the loudspeaker.  We both groaned.  We were far too tired to participate, but what choice did we have?  Unfortunately, participation was mandatory, so we waited for some crew person to bully us into leaving.  To our surprise, no one came.  We had been sitting there so long, I guess they assumed we were part of the furniture.  Grinning with delight at being allowed to skip the life boat drill, Marla and I relaxed to the music.

Just then a really pretty song came on.  It was an instrumental version of Time Goes By from Casablanca.  I could not resist.  Neither could Marla.  We slowly dragged ourselves to our feet, stumbled to the nearby dance floor, then melted into each other's arms.  Swaying to the slow tempo, it was a sweet moment.  We were very much in love, a love that has never diminished.  By chance, a friend spotted us dancing and took a picture.  I did not see the lady snap the photo, but I am so glad she did.  Her kind gesture allowed us to memorialize this very special moment. 

As we swayed to the music, I realized we owed this special moment to none other than George Mitchell.  I made sure to say a silent prayer of gratitude to Mr. Mitchell for his role in helping to create this Magic Moment.  I would forever be in his debt.  Since there is no way I could thank him personally, I vowed to one day share my admiration by writing about him posthumously. 

 

THE SSQQ LOVE BOAT ERA
 

Some enchanted evening
You may see a stranger across a crowded room
And somehow you know
You'll know even then
That somewhere you'll see her, again and again

Some enchanted evening
Someone may be laughin'
You may hear her laughin' across a crowded room
And night after night
As strange as it seems
The sound of her laughter will sing in your dreams

Who can explain it?  Who can tell you why?
Fools give you reasons, wise men never try

As it turns out, my sea-born romance with Marla was a precursor to an amazing development at my dance studio.  From the moment we connected, Marla and I sensed our love would continue in perpetuity.  Convinced I was serious about our relationship, Marla suggested I let her organize the studio's next cruise.  Grateful for her help, I agreed immediately.

Right from the start, Marla was so phenomenal, I concluded she was born for this role.  Over the next twenty years, Marla organized 50 cruise trips for our dance studio.  We went all over the world, not just the Caribbean.  Her trips were so popular that groups ranging from 100 to 200 were commonplace. 

Given Marla's uncanny success, I referred to this period as the studio's Love Boat Era.  Why?  On every trip our original fall-in-love story was repeated over and over again.  Romances were created.  Marriages ensued.  Why was that?  Because Dancing at Sea is a very potent way to touch a woman's heart.  Put a woman in a man's arms and a powerful chemistry begins to operate.  That effect is magnified at sea.  A cruise trip allows two people the opportunity to spend 7 intense days and nights getting to know one another.  Every evening offers another chance to dance the night away.  By the time the ship returned home, invariably the emerging love affair would continue to flourish.  The moment the SSQQ legend of love at sea captured the imagination of our students, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

As one might guess, the arrival of the cruise ships in Galveston played a huge role in taking SSQQ Dance Studio to the next level during the 2000's.  My dance studio definitely owed Mr. Mitchell a tidal wave of appreciation.

Thank you, George Mitchell.