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I would be grateful for any memories of 1970s Houston. Places, buildings, life. I was young then, and Houston was good. We went to Harry's for breakfast when it was a trucker's diner and George cooked. There was an amazing gay club straight out of Tennessee Williams in an antebellum home in Montrose. It looked derelict by day, and by night, the balconies swung with revelers. The top hairdresser in Houston was Lyndon Johnson, who regaled us with stories of being mistaken for the President: "Of course, I'm the one with flaxen hair!" We all went to the Opera and afterwards to an all-night Me