News from the Lone Star State

[TexasStooge]

Pastor asserts innocence in sex case

By JIM DOUGLAS / WFAA ABC 8

ARLINGTON, Texas — Surrounded by supporters, an Arlington pastor Friday asserted his innocence after being accused of sexually assaulting three young women.

Bishop Terry Hornbuckle said the charges were inspired by greed on the part of the alleged victims.

"I am unequivocably and emphatically innocent of all of these charges," Hornbuckle declared at a morning news conference at the Agape Christian Fellowship Church.

“If anyone knows me as a person and the things I stand for as a man, as a father, as a husband and as a Christian, they know these charges are frivolous," Hornbuckle said, adding that he looks forward to proving his case in court.

Hornbuckle is on indefinite administrative leave from the church pending the outcome of the case.

"We are compelled to be here today to respond to the concerted, contrived and conspiratorial efforts on the part of government laywers and a personal injury trial lawyer to try this case in the media," said Michael Heiskell, a lawyer representing Hornbuckle.

"It is a blatant attempt on the part of those attorneys to ridicule, embarrass and humiliate Bishop Hornbuckle, in an attempt to destroy him and—indeed—to destroy the church," Heiskell added.

Neither Hornbuckle nor his attorney directly addressed the accusations, nor did they offer any explanation for the methamphetamine that police say was found inside the pastor's vehicle when he was arrested. The pastor faces an additional drug possession charge.

Hornbuckle is free on $405,000 bond.

The pastor's wife, Reneé, is serving as interim senior pastor of the church, which claims more than 2,500 members. She stood by her husband at Friday's news conference and said she believes he is innocent.

Dallas Morning News writer Jeff Mosier contributed to this report.

[TexasStooge]

Tollway pushes north to Prosper

By STEVE STOLER / WFAA ABC 8

PLANO, Texas - Collin and Denton County commuters are about to get some major relief. Dirt is now flying on the newest extension of the Dallas North Tollway, a 9.6 mile stretch between Frisco and Prosper.

When finished, the six-lane highway will speed up drive times and growth in an area that's already seeing rapid development.

Barb Cominoli sells luxury town homes at Frisco Square, the city's future urban center. She touts the Tollway extension as an enticement to potential customers. "When this comes up, it will go completely past our community to El Dorado," she said.

Wichita physician Xavier Ng is considering moving his family to Frisco Square. He likes the location's proximity to the Tollway. "It gives me access to downtown Dallas if I need to go down there," he said.

"That ability to get people in and out of this community through here is just going to be a really good thing for us," Cominoli agreed.

Local leaders who broke ground on the $264 million Tollway extension believe it will mean good things for development.

Kareem Alaoui recently opened Poppy's Pizza and Pasta at Frisco Square. He admits that attracting customers has been difficult so far, but he believes that will change drastically when the Tollway pushes north.

"To have development, you have to have a road that is really easy to drive through," Alaoui said. "The Tollway will definitely facilitate that."

The highway extension will look like the recently completed portion of the Tollway from Legacy Drive in Plano to Gaylord Parkway in Frisco.

To Barb Cominoli, it looks like money in the bank. "It's going to make a world of difference to this community," she said.

According to North Texas Tollway Authority officials, when the extension opens in September, 2007, 90,000 commuters will have a quicker trip home and fewer headaches.

[TexasStooge]

Dallas readies public water park

By CHRIS HEINBAUGH / WFAA ABC 8

DALLAS, Texas - As the weather warms up, residents in the southern sector of Dallas are getting their swim suits ready. By Memorial Day, the city is expected to open its first public water park.

Bahama Beach will be located at Thurgood Marshall Park near Dallas Executive Airport, and young Kajai Victor—eyeing the construction now under way—can't wait.

"I think it's going to be fun," she said. "When you get hot, you could get wet and not be hot anymore."

"We are very excited," said Barbara Kindig of the Dallas Park and Recreation department. "This is going to be the most wonderful installation that we've seen in a long time in the city of Dallas."

The four acre site will soon become a mass of tubes and shutes, a water slide, beaches, and a lazy river. If the project is successful, the city may build more.

"People aren't interested anymore in just going to a basic square swimming pool filled with water," Kindig said. "This provides an opportunity to really enjoy an aquatic experience for families."

But not everybody's on board with Bahama Beach. Some say the city has no business being in the water park business. Others say the city can barely afford the parks it already has to maintain.

City officials say voters approved Bahama Beach in the last bond election and admission and concession revenue should cover expenses.

A similar formula works now for several North Texas cities, including Denton and North Richland Hills.

Dallas wants to see how Bahama Beach does before expanding the concept.

"They should build a lot of water parks everywhere," Kajai said. Her father, Mekkah Allah, agrees.

"In a hot Texas summer, what would be better than a water park?"

[TexasStooge]

Accident kills stunt-diving pig

AUSTIN, Texas (WFAA ABC 8/AP Wire) -- An electrical problem may be to blame for the death Thursday of a stunt-diving pig at the Star of Texas Fair and Rodeo.

The animal known as "Big Red" died after diving off a platform into a heated pool as part of Randall's High Diving Pig Show.

The pigs have performed the stunts many times, but owner Virgil Randall said he has had trouble with the pool's electricity recently.

Rodeo officials were investigating the death.

[TexasStooge]

Park to re-emerge in living color

Planner's vision ready to spring from downtown fountain

By JIM GETZ / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - Monday will be like 1925 in downtown Dallas, only better.

When the city once again turns on the fountain in Ferris Park Plaza, the resulting display and the surrounding landscape architecture will be what Dallas' legendary urban planner George Kessler and pioneering businessman Royal Ferris envisioned: colorful streams of jetting water surrounded by intricate brick walks and beds of multi-hued irises.

It took more than a decade of on-again, off-again effort by various downtown players and about $600,000 to get it done.

"That's really where the public-private partnership came in on it," said Alice Murray, president of the Downtown Improvement District, which does capital improvements and other activities. "The city took the lead on the fountain, and we said we'll do the landscape."

Mr. Kessler created the park about a century ago. Eighty years ago, Dallas residents withstood a January rain to watch as Mr. Ferris' $50,000 donation to the park – the fountain – was dedicated.

The renovation of the fountain over the last year – more energy-efficient pumps, new pipes, new lights, ultraviolet-resistant surface – cost the city $276,000, with the money coming from a 1998 bond election. The improvement district landscaping, designed by John Armstrong of Armstrong Berger Inc. and done by Southern Botanical Inc. and Mid-Continental Restoration Co., came in just under the budgeted $350,000.

The project was a scaled-down version of a $1 million idea that died in 1998 when the city's Zoning Board of Adjustment rejected removal of 21 live oak trees ringing the plaza.

Instead, only two trees were removed. The rest were pruned and will be illuminated to be less attractive to the pesky grackles that infest downtown.

Other improvements include restored streetlamps; a ramp to meet Americans with Disabilities Act standards; new benches, trash containers and a drinking fountain; addition of ground cover, flower beds and shrubs; and better irrigation and drainage.

"I think now we have a very tasteful, basic plan that is respectful of the original plan but just a bit simpler," Mr. Armstrong said. "This really is quite a park site because of the multi-colors and various shapes of the bricks."

Currently, downtown fountains have run only two hours a day. Now, Mr. Armstrong and the improvement district hope corporate sponsors will step forward to pay the $5-an-hour operating cost to run them longer.

Ferris Plaza was intended to be a grand gateway for train travelers whose destination was downtown Dallas. The rise of the automobile and airplane changed that. But people can still arrive by light rail behind Union Station, just across the street. And soon, people may be able to attend art shows sponsored by the improvement district or lunchtime concerts in the park.

"We definitely want to turn it into a destination point," said Paul Lindenberger, who oversaw the project for the district.

[TexasStooge]

Como pastor honored for 40 years leading church

By John Gutierrez-Mier, Star-Telegram Staff Writer

FORT WORTH, Texas - A pillar in the Como community is praised for his many years of service and devotion.

For 40 years, the Rev. R.L. Sanders has stood in the pulpit of Pleasant Mount Gilead Missionary Baptist Church, deep in the heart of Como.

During that time, a few offers came his way to shepherd other churches. One from Denver, a few others from Florida. But Sanders and his wife, Katherine, never felt led to leave.

And on Sunday, surrounded by family, friends, fellow pastors and his congregation, Sanders celebrated his anniversary not once, but twice.

Tarrant County Commissioner Roy Brooks told a packed church, "I'm tremendously blessed this morning to find myself in Como, Texas, to help you celebrate the faithfulness of your pastor." The morning service included plenty of accolades for Sanders and his wife, who live only a few blocks from the church.

"Forty years is a long time for anybody to be doing anything," said Brooks, who then presented Sanders with a proclamation congratulating him on his many years of service.

For Sanders, 75, it was a time to reflect on his memorable career. In addition to working funerals, weddings and baptisms, Sanders has also devoted much time to building up Como, a tightknit, historic African-American neighborhood in southwest Fort Worth that has its own Fourth of July parade and counts churches as very much a part of its landscape.

Last week Sanders, who has no plans to retire, recalled arriving in Como in 1957. He found a vibrant, thriving community and his wife, who grew up in Como.

At the time, segregation was the norm. The neighborhood had its own doctors, theaters, restaurants, florists and other businesses.

It also had its own churches that, much like is true today, were the anchors of the community.

"I began at Strangers Rest Baptist Church," Sanders said a few days before the weekend's celebration.

Strangers Rest is located a few blocks west of Pleasant Mount Gilead, to which Sanders moved in 1963 to assist the Rev. Jerry Lenley. He did that until January 1965, then took over the church upon Lenley's death.

It was, he recalled, a tough assignment for a young pastor. The civil rights movement was electrifying the black community, and he continued to preach peace to his congregation.

"It was on-the-job training," said Sanders from his church office, where pictures of Martin Luther King Jr. adorn the wall. "There were a lot of angry people, but I told everyone to pray for peace and for their enemies."

Sanders also praised his wife for standing by him during his career.

"She's been my shock absorber," said Sanders, who added that one of the toughest parts of his job is counseling church members after a loved one dies.

But on Sunday, there was little talk about death. It was a celebration of a life devoted to God.

The Rev. Albert Chew, pastor of Shiloh Baptist Church in north Fort Worth and a longtime friend of Sanders', praised his peer for his years of faithfulness to his church.

At another service three hours later, choirs from area churches and their pastors continued the celebration.

Derotha Richardson, who has been a member of the church for almost 40 years, called Sanders a pillar in the community.

"He's a great teacher and has a big heart for Como," she said.

Elizabeth Hampton, 30, of Arlington said Sanders has a special relationship with every member of his congregation.

"The trend in many churches today is that you don't have a relationship with your pastor," said Hampton, who has known Sanders for most of her life. "I can walk around the corner and knock on his door, and he'll be there for me."

[TexasStooge]

Heartache and anger linger in wake of slaying

By Deanna Boyd, Star-Telegram Staff Writer

FORT WORTH, Texas - Almost a year after L.J. "Pops" Robinson, 83, was found slain in his apartment, his family is still stunned and police are still searching for the killer.

Heartache has plagued Jimmy Robinson.

In March 2002, a tornado destroyed the east Fort Worth home where he had cared for his mother, Tennie Robinson. Ten months later, she died from emphysema at a local hospital.

In April 2004, his 83-year-old father, L.J. Robinson, was found slain in his Fort Worth apartment.

"I lost everything I had in the twinkle of an eye," Jimmy Robinson said. "At the age of 52, I'm trying to rebuild. It's hard, but life goes on."

Intensifying the pain for Jimmy Robinson and his siblings is that no one has been arrested in their father's slaying.

"That's what makes me so angry," said Verleeta Brooks, the youngest of L.J. and Tennie Robinson's children. "My mom was sick in 2003 when she died. I can accept that, but somebody took my daddy from me.

"I haven't really grieved because I've been so angry."

L.J. Robinson, a retired landscaper and janitor known affectionately to most as Pops, was found dead April 7, 2004, in his Caville Place apartment. A neighbor had telephoned police after overhearing other neighbors saying they had not seen Robinson in a while.

Officers found Robinson seated in a recliner chair. He'd been killed days before by blunt-force trauma to the head.

Homicide Detective Mike Carroll says robbery may have been the motive. A relative had given Robinson $250 in cash the Friday before his body was discovered.

Police couldn't find the money in the apartment.

"We can't find anything that's missing, unless it was money that was taken," Carroll said. "His place was very clean. No signs of a struggle. The home wasn't ransacked."

Relatives and police say Robinson, a grandfather and great-grandfather, often lent money to those in need. Carroll said some of the women living in the complex were known to take advantage of Robinson's generosity.

Jimmy Robinson said: "He was a real easygoing guy. To him, there was never a stranger. He was always out to help someone. That's one of the main reasons I couldn't understand why someone would want to kill him. All they had to do was ask him."

Carroll said a small amount of blood, which tests showed belonged to a female, was on a bedroom wall.

"We can't say at this point that the blood has anything to do with the case," Carroll said.

He said he is also investigating whether L.J. Robinson's slaying might be related to the robbery and slaying of 89-year-old James Eldon Tomlin. Tomlin's body, bound with duct tape, was found in his home 21 days after the discovery of Robinson's body. The Tarrant County Medical Examiner's Office ruled that Tomlin died from smothering with positional asphyxia.

A man and a woman were arrested in connection with Tomlin's death. Carroll said the suspects also had ties to L.J. Robinson but have denied having known him.

Carroll said he has interviewed close to 20 potential suspects. Many have taken a polygraph or provided DNA samples to compare with the blood on the bedroom wall. Nothing has led to an arrest.

"Somebody knows," Carroll said. "We just have to encourage whoever does have knowledge to help us out. This man deserved better than this. He was a really nice, well-respected guy out in that community.

"He helped a lot of people out. This is the chance to help him out and his family."

Jimmy Robinson cherishes his last telephone conversation with his father, the Thursday before L.J. Robinson's death and the day before Jimmy Robinson went out of town.

"We'd never talked that long on the phone together, but we talked for hours that night," Jimmy Robinson said. "We went back to my childhood days and came all the way back. I think about that a lot."

"We just talked, not knowing it was going to be last time that I talked to him."

Brooks, 44, clings to the reminders of her father that are everywhere: the trees that he grew along Fifth Avenue near Harris Methodist Fort Worth hospital, for example, and the sweet-gum tree in her front yard that he planted about 10 years ago despite her protests that it was too small.

For nine years, Brooks said, the tree remained a runt.

"It was so little. My girlfriends used to laugh at that tree," Brooks said.

But "it seemed like right after Daddy passed, it shot up," she said.

Relatives said L.J. Robinson's 23 grandchildren, 22 great-grandchildren and gardening were his passions. Even after several heart attacks, including a massive one that doctors were surprised he survived, he took walks and was in good health, Jimmy Robinson said.

"The last time he had a heart attack, the doctor told me he had a desire to live," he said. "He had a will to live."

[TexasStooge]

Arlington fire leaves tenants homeless

By JOLENE DeVITO / WFAA ABC 8

ARLINGTON, Texas — More than two dozen tenants were displaced early Monday after a fire at an Arlington apartment complex.

The four-alarm blaze at the La Joya Apartments, 1707 New York Ave., started around 2:45 a.m.

Arlington Fire Department officials said the fire started in a downstairs unit, moved up into the attic and spread in all directions. The cause of the fire remained under investigation.

Twelve units—four of them vacant—suffered fire damage, but no one was hurt.

The American Red Cross was helping about 31 residents who were looking for a new place to live.

This is the third major apartment fire in the Dallas-Fort Worth area in the past week.

[TexasStooge]

Blaze destroys Oak Cliff church just renovated

Cause investigated; members were to return for Easter services

By RICHARD ABSHIRE / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - Fire gutted Allison Chapel Missionary Baptist Church in east Oak Cliff on Saturday night, a week before members were to return to celebrate Easter after a remodeling project.

"The church did not burn down," the Rev. Raymond C. Allison told about 20 church members who gathered Sunday morning outside the charred building. "The building is down. It's not the church."

Mr. Allison said he and other church members had finished the three-week renovation at the building in the 1700 block of Garza Avenue on Friday and the congregation was planning to return Saturday as part of Easter weekend services. They had been meeting at another church during construction.

Mr. Allison led the congregation in singing "I'm Going to Trust in the Lord" at the site Sunday morning.

Regina Allison, his wife, offered a prayer.

"We thank you, Lord, even under the circumstances," she said.

Dallas Fire-Rescue spokesman J.D. Garcia said the fire call came in shortly before midnight Saturday. The one-alarm fire caused an estimated $55,000 in damage to the small church.

The cause is under investigation.

Mr. Allison said his congregation would worship at Little Rock Missionary Baptist Church a few blocks away for the time being.

Members who gathered Sunday morning found the center section of the T-shaped building's roof and walls destroyed and the interior charred. Ruined chairs and sofas lay in the yard.

"You're not supposed to see a church like this," said congregant Sherri Burkley.

Ms. Allison said there had been occasional break-ins since the 24-year-old church moved from a storefront in 1999, but she did not know whether anyone had been in the building Saturday night.

"If this was done by the hands of man," she said, "that person had no Jesus in him."

[TexasStooge]

Dallas teen shot dead in Arlington

By MATT STILES / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - A Lincoln High School sophomore shot and killed late Saturday at an Arlington party wasn't the gunman's intended target, police said.

Pat Hill, 16, was struck by bullets after a man began shooting a handgun just before midnight at a party in the 5600 block of Congressional Drive.

"He was just a good boy," said grandmother Ziller McCrainey. "He didn't bother anybody."

Ms. McCrainey, who learned about the shooting Sunday morning after returning from an out-of-state trip, said her grandson went to the party with a cousin.

Arlington police investigators were pursuing "solid leads" on Sunday but hadn't made an arrest, spokeswoman Christy Gilfour said.

"The suspect, we were told, was not invited to the party," she said. "He started causing trouble."

Moments after partygoers asked the man to leave, he began firing indiscriminately, striking Pat once in the chest, authorities said.

"We do not believe he was the intended target," said Lt. Blake Miller, another Arlington police spokesman.

Pat died later at Arlington Memorial Hospital. He was the backup free safety on Lincoln's Class 4A Division II state finalist football team last season.

Family members and a teammate described Pat – who also was on the track team – as a competitive, sports-loving teenager. His sports trophies decorate the living room of his grandmother's Far East Dallas apartment, where he lived.

Courtney Herndon, a starter in the defensive secondary who was Pat's mentor last season, said he was stunned to hear the news.

His friend was not a troublemaker and "had a good head on his shoulders," Courtney said.

"I just can't believe this. He was like my little brother," Courtney said. "It just hurts to see that he's gone."

Courtney, who earned a scholarship to Kansas State University to play football, said he expected Pat could've done the same.

Pat played mostly on special teams last season, but the team's coaches expected he would be a probable starter next season – a player with the potential to someday play big-time college football.

Funeral services had not been set Sunday.

[TexasStooge]

Arrests made in ice cream vendor's murder

DALLAS, Texas (WFAA ABC 8/The Dallas Morning News) - Dallas police believe two teenagers are responsible for at least three robberies and one fatal shooting on Saturday.

The crime spree led to the murder of ice cream vendor Alfonso Fuentes, 28. He was gunned down in Oak Cliff after the robbery of another ice cream vendor.

Dallas police announced Sunday that two arrests had been made. Police arrested the suspects, Gilbert Garcia, 18, and a 14-year-old boy at their individual homes in Oak Cliff.

The men—who are also suspected in two other robberies—could face capital murder charges.

Fuentes' friend, Fernando Robles, said he and the other vendors are relieved by the arrests. Robles said Fuentes was a hard worker, and that friends have been praying for the assailants to be caught.

The attacks come on the heels of a report that ranks Dallas first in the nation in terms of big city crime.

"There are no excuses for being the number one crime city in America," Mayor Laura Miller said Saturday. "We're going to get those numbers down."

Dallas police have ambitious goals for 2005, including an overall crime reduction of 10 percent and a 20 percent drop in the homicide rate.

To do that, police are deploying more officers on weekends and overnight hours.

[TexasStooge]

'Big Mike': I'm no steroid dealer

Exclusive: He says Colleyville Heritage inquiry has made him a scapegoat

By GREGG JONES and GARY JACOBSON / The Dallas Morning News

COLLEYVILLE, Texas - Michael Lewayne Hill, a Tarrant County weight lifter known for his bulked-up body and his boastful talk, says he is the "Big Mike" described by some Colleyville Heritage High School athletes as their supplier of anabolic steroids.

But in an interview with The Dallas Morning News, Mr. Hill said he hasn't sold or supplied steroids to anyone.

Mr. Hill, a 250-pound, 6-foot-tall man with enormous arms, a shaved head and small hoop earrings, said Tarrant County narcotics detectives questioned him earlier this month but cleared him of involvement in the Heritage steroids case.

"They told me that they didn't really think I had [sold steroids] because they had already checked me out, but in order to eliminate me as the suspect or whatever that they needed to interview me," Mr. Hill said.

The commander of the Tarrant County Narcotics Unit said his investigators hadn't cleared any potential suspects.

"There was a conversation between some of our investigators and Mr. Hill," Herschel Tebay said. "We've neither indicted nor cleared anyone."

The effort to identify "Big Mike" has become a central part of the Heritage steroid criminal investigation, which began last month after The News reported that nine athletes at the high school had admitted using the banned drugs. Some had told a Heritage coach that they got their steroids from an adult named "Big Mike."

The Colleyville revelations have triggered nationwide discussions about steroid use in high schools. President Bush cited the Texas reports last week as Congress renewed its scrutiny of steroid use in Major League Baseball, with both the president and Congress warning that the sport must take the issue seriously because teen athletes are mimicking their heroes.

The recent disclosures have also exposed the steroid supply chain linking high school athletes to a gym culture in which dangerous performance-enhancing drugs are common. And in the affluent suburb northwest of Dallas, a guessing game about the identity of "Big Mike" has intrigued and concerned parents, students and school officials.

'I'm sick and tired of it'

Mr. Hill, who wouldn't agree to be photographed, says they are looking for the wrong guy – and that makes him angry.

"Here I am, a nobody, and I've had a freaking narcotics task force call me up and ask to talk to me about stuff I had no knowledge of whatsoever," Mr. Hill said when contacted by The News.

He suggested he is being blamed to shield the school and parents who knew about the steroid use. "The school has been pushing the 'Big Mike' story, and the fathers have been, and I'm sick and tired of it," he said.

"From what I understand, they've interrogated kids at the school, using my specific birthright name – not my nickname," he said. "And you know, that's [expletive] because I have nothing to do with it."

Grapevine-Colleyville school district officials said they haven't used the last name of anyone they suspect may be "Big Mike" in discussions with students.

In telephone calls and a meeting at a restaurant in Grapevine, Mr. Hill carefully acknowledged moving in a world where steroids are bought and sold by bodybuilders and aspiring athletes. He spoke of friends receiving calls from the inquisitive fathers of high school athletes, eager to learn about the benefits and risks of steroids.

He wouldn't say whether he used the muscle-building drugs, which are illegal to possess without a doctor's prescription.

But throughout the conversations, Mr. Hill insisted – sometimes angrily – that he has never sold steroids.

He speculated that the Colleyville Heritage athletes who confessed might have given a coach his name because they were trying to "point the finger at somebody else to save [a] friend or whoever, however they were getting it."

Mr. Hill said he had no idea whom they might be protecting. Later, though, he called a reporter and said that he'd been doing some investigating and had concluded that a 2004 Colleyville Heritage graduate now playing college sports was the dealer. Later, he theorized that the former student might have received the steroids from a local man currently facing steroid trafficking charges.

A Grapevine-Colleyville school district investigation last month found that a 2004 Heritage graduate "playing sports in college" offered to provide steroids to Heritage athletes "and may have brought 'Big Mike' to the students." The name of the 2004 graduate was blacked out in district notes that The News obtained under the Texas Public Information Act.

Mr. Hill arranged for the newspaper to speak with a former Colleyville Heritage athlete who identified the same 2004 graduate as a steroid user and supplier to other Heritage athletes. Mr. Hill's friend said some of the school's football players began using steroids in the spring of 2003, a year before the drug use acknowledged by Heritage students in December.

The former athlete didn't want to be named because he feared jeopardizing friendships and exposing his family to retaliation for revealing information about steroid use.

Befriending students

Mr. Hill offered more than one explanation for why suspicion had fallen on him.

"I haven't personally met any of these kids, but I live or lived in Colleyville for a while," he said. "I'm a big guy and I'm always out and about, and people see me."

Later, Mr. Hill acknowledged knowing some former Heritage students.

Sporting an impressive pickup and telling stories of video production deals, Mr. Hill befriended Colleyville Heritage athletes at a Whataburger along Glade Road, less than a mile from the high school. One former Heritage student told The News that he witnessed several Heritage football players – including a current senior who had allegedly sold him steroids several months earlier – shaking hands and chatting with "Big Mike" at the Whataburger last fall.

The former Heritage athlete who spoke to The News at Mr. Hill's request said Mr. Hill treated him "like a brother."

"We were standing out in the parking lot, talking to him about his truck, and from then on we were just friends with him," he said. "I don't know him for anything else other than that. And that's how everybody at Colleyville [Heritage] knows him."

He said that Mr. Hill wasn't involved in the steroid case.

"I'll put that on my life," Mr. Hill's friend said. "I don't care what people say or who says this or that. It wasn't him."

Mr. Hill said he first became aware that authorities wanted to talk to him when a friend who worked at a gym he frequented told him that narcotics investigators were asking whether anyone named "Big Mike" worked out there. Mr. Hill said that he called one of the investigators at his friend's suggestion and that a meeting was arranged.

"So I said, 'Look, I'll help you guys in any way possible. I don't have anything to do with it, but this is what I do or don't know,' which was basically nothing," he said.

'Chasing a home run'

Mr. Hill has lived most of his adult life amid the sprawling strip malls and middle-class neighborhoods of northeast Tarrant County. He graduated from Haltom High School in 1992.

In the years since, he has changed jobs and addresses frequently. Former landlord Douglas Nance called Mr. Hill a good tenant who sometimes paid cash for the $1,650 rent on a Bedford house.

Mr. Hill has worked as a freelance personal trainer at local gyms, where some of his clients have included Colleyville Heritage students and their fathers, people familiar with the investigation said.

At favorite haunts such as the 24 Hour Fitness along State Highway 121 in Bedford and the Hooters in Grapevine, Mr. Hill is known for his big body, big truck and big talk. He is also known for trying to enlist friends and family members in a string of speculative business ventures.

One of those was Texsun Tan, a Bedford tanning salon he bought in 2001 and sold in late 2003. Business was brisk at the salon under Mr. Hill's ownership, said Jeff Whitmire, owner of a Smoothie King store next to Texsun Tan.

"He had a large following," mostly women, Mr. Whitmire said.

In the last two years, Mr. Hill has sold his condo and the tanning salon, had his truck repossessed, and has run up more than $1,600 in traffic fines, according to public documents.

During this time, Mr. Hill has solicited friends and family members to invest in a risqué racetrack video he described to them as modeled on the Girls Gone Wild series of soft-porn videos. Mr. Whitmire, the Smoothie King owner, said he turned down Mr. Hill's investment pitch.

Greg Bond, a step-uncle, said he also declined Mr. Hill's request to buy a stake in the video after losing money in the tanning salon.

"That's just him – he's always chasing a home run instead of working for a living," said Mr. Bond, a Colleyville businessman. "I don't need any more Michael investments."

Mr. Hill refused to discuss his involvement in the Racetrack Girls Go Nutz video. "I'm not going to confirm that at all," he said.

Scott Schepper, chief executive officer of Consolidated Sports Media Group Inc. of Addison, distributor of the video, said in a telephone interview that Mr. Hill was "at one time" involved with the racetrack video. He said Mr. Hill isn't employed by or affiliated with his company.

Some of Mr. Hill's family members and friends said he earns plenty of money working with a video production company and has no need to deal steroids. "He doesn't have to do that to make money," said his father, Jerry W. Hill.

In recent months, Michael Hill has been living with friends and relatives as he tries to raise money for another venture: a televised poker tournament.

One of his temporary residences has been Mr. Bond's home in a tree-shaded Colleyville neighborhood of $500,000 houses, a five-minute drive from Heritage High. Mr. Hill sometimes would bring friends and girlfriends by to view the "critter room" showcasing Mr. Bond's big game trophies.

"You know, he acted like he was hard up for money, so I'd let him stay there a little while to kinda get on his feet," said Mr. Bond, who said Mr. Hill had assured him that he didn't sell steroids.

These days, Mr. Hill said, he is sleeping on a friend's couch as he tries to weather the steroid investigation.

"If I was a drug dealer, I wouldn't be homeless right now, living on his couch," Mr. Hill said, motioning to his friend, who also has a shaved head and sometimes allows Mr. Hill to use his black Ford F-250 pickup.

Mr. Hill said he agrees with law enforcement officers who theorize that the Colleyville Heritage steroid supplier is probably lying low because of news coverage of the case.

"If there is a mysterious dealer," said Mr. Hill, "I doubt he's still working."

Staff writers Reese Dunklin and Richard Durrett contributed to this report.

[TexasStooge]

Dallas woman missing since Monday

By JOLENE DeVITO / WFAA ABC 8

DeSOTO, Texas — A Dallas family is searching for a missing loved one.

They're looking for Sara Fennell, 50, who hasn't been since since Monday when she failed to appaear for a scheduled job interview at the Holiday Inn at Interstate 35E and Wintergreen Road in DeSoto.

Family members distributed fliers today near the hotel. They say the disappearance is extremely unusual.

"The only thing she likes doing is being around us all the time," said Camille Fennell, the missing woman's daughter. "It doesn't make any sense that she would be running away from anything."

"It's just not like her to up and leave or disappear like that," added Diego Santiallana, the woman's son. "She wouldn't just run away form us."

Dallas police confirm that a missing persons report was filed. Detectives consider it an endangered missing persons case because Fennell's absence is not normal.

Sara Fennell is described as Hispanic, with a fair complexion. She's about 5'-7" tall and weighs 175 pounds.

Police and family members said there has been no activity on her bank account or credit cards. Fennell was not carrying a cell phone when she disappeared.

[TexasStooge]

2 workers killed in crane collapse

By MATT STILES / The Dallas Morning News

IRVING, Texas – Two construction workers building a parking garage in Las Colinas died Saturday morning when a crane boom collapsed, dropping debris that crushed them.

The boom, which reached high above the four-story garage, buckled about 9:20 a.m. as it hoisted 30-foot steel beams for the structure's skeleton.

Angel Roldan, 33, of Dallas and Juan Roldan, 26, of Mesquite died in the accident. The men, who were cousins, were taking a break at ground level when three beams crashed to the ground in the 300 block of East Las Colinas Boulevard, police said.

A 16-year-old male – apparently also working at the site – was slightly injured and was taken to a nearby hospital, said Officer David Tull, an Irving police spokesman.

The cause of the collapse wasn't known.

Police conducted a cursory investigation Saturday, recording names of witnesses and taking statements. But the department plans to turn over the case to officials at the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration, which handles issues of workplace safety.

"Obviously, this is the early stages," Officer Tull said. "The investigation will probably take some time."

One witness said the crane obviously was in trouble moments before the crash. The boom buckled in several places as it slammed down across the garage's frame.

"The crane was going left and right at the top," said Victor Osmani, who owns a restaurant down the street in the Las Colinas Urban Center neighborhood. "It looked like it was out of balance."

Mr. Osmani said the other construction workers scattered away from the twisted wreckage in the seconds after the incident. Some of the men – appearing shaken and still wearing hard hats – remained at the site for hours.

Police said Dallas-based Andres Construction Services is building the garage, which is near the intersection of State Highway 114 and North O'Connor Road.

The structure is to accompany the planned Canal Side Lofts, a 306-unit apartment complex developed by Palladium USA International Inc.

[TexasStooge]

Faces of Parkland: A patient's painful journey

Overwhelmed by pain, frustration and anger, a deathly ill young man slips through the cracks

By SHERRY JACOBSON / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - First in an occasional series.

In a noisy room filled with sick people who had nowhere else to go, a shrunken young man almost vanished into an oversized black leather coat.

He seemed almost childlike. But up close you could see from his skeletal frame and his mournful blue eyes that he had been sick for a long time and that the coat probably had fit him once. He was 26.

Jadon White sat with his father, James, in the overcrowded, gymnasium-sized waiting area of Parkland Memorial Hospital's main pharmacy. They needed painkillers because Jadon was fighting back from losing most of a lung six months earlier.

"It was a major tumor," he said. "But it wasn't cancer."

Jadon was just one of many patients I interviewed last year for a story on the hospital. His image returned in vivid detail 10 months later, in December, when his frantic father called seeking help.

Jadon was deteriorating fast – they feared cancer was the cause – and the doctors at the county hospital seemed unable to help. "He's in terrible pain, and he can't walk," James White said. "He's scared the cancer has settled into his bones."

He had lost his way in the labyrinth of medicine that is Dallas County's charity hospital, lost access to the specialists who could understand his worsening condition. Angry, combative and suffering "unbelievable pain" in his right leg, Jadon was locked in a cycle of repeat visits to Parkland's emergency room, where he could get painkillers but no diagnosis.

"I'm getting sicker and sicker," he said, on the verge of tears, in a phone call in mid-December. "I'm losing weight, and nobody wants to help me."

After a year of reporting extensively on the county hospital, I knew that the emergency room, which has nearly 150,000 patient-visits annually, offered no shortcut to a cancer specialist. Indeed, an independent study of Parkland released in November warned that even ER doctors knew there was a problem getting emergency room patients into the hospital's specialty clinics and that some – like Jadon White – were falling through the cracks.

I suggested that Jadon go to the hospital's Ambulatory Care Clinic on the first floor, calmly explain to a doctor his pain and fears and begin the process of diagnosing whether he was suffering a muscle pull in his leg or something far more serious.

Rare carcinoid tumors

Two days later, a doctor told Jadon that he had cancer and that it had spread throughout his bones. His painful right leg was just the worst spot.

James White, choked with grief, shared the news by telephone. "The cancer is in five places," he said. "I don't know what to do."

The only hopeful news was that Jadon was now in the bosom of Parkland's specialty clinics. Within days of his diagnosis, he underwent more tests to pinpoint the "hot spots" of his cancer. A string of appointments with specialists discussing various treatment options followed. The first step would be daily radiation therapy to try to relieve the pain in his leg.

The pieces of Jadon's medical puzzle were beginning to fall into place. But his case had raised some unanswered questions about how this confusion occurred in the first place and whether it could happen to others.

For example, why did it take five weeks for someone at Parkland to connect the pain in Jadon's leg to the tumor in his lung, which the same hospital had removed just a year earlier? Should someone have discovered his bone cancer more quickly, and was Jadon partly to blame for the delay? And, finally, how did the lung tumor – which doctors had determined wasn't cancerous – somehow spread as cancer to his bones?

Complicating the case was Jadon's sometimes-explosive temper. He acknowledged nearly getting thrown out of the hospital's cancer clinic in November after arguing with a nurse who refused to let him keep his doctor's appointment because he had not completed a test required before his visit. That episode led to a three-week delay in getting accurately diagnosed.

Some of the answers were in Jadon's medical records, which he released to The Dallas Morning News as part of the full access to his ongoing medical care that he granted a reporter and photographer.

The records revealed that Jadon had been diagnosed with a rare carcinoid tumor in his right lung in July 2003. The growth – the size of a golf ball – was removed the following month along with most of his lung.

Carcinoid tumors are extremely rare. Only about 5,000 are diagnosed each year, and those tend to be in women in their 50s or 60s. Young men get them so rarely that a Parkland doctor called Jadon "an unusual case among unusual cases." Why someone develops a carcinoid lung tumor is a mystery. Smoking and other environmental hazards have been ruled out as causes.

Further complicating this mystery, carcinoid tumors are not even considered cancer by most doctors, said Dr. Irvin M. Modlin, one of the country's top carcinoid experts. The tumors grow much more slowly than cancerous ones. Yet carcinoids can't be considered benign growths because they can spread from one organ to another, the textbook definition of cancer.

Dr. Modlin, a professor of surgery at Yale University's School of Medicine, has studied carcinoid tumors for 20 years and believes that many physicians don't understand the potential of these tumors to metastasize, or spread.

"Physicians lull themselves into a false sense of security by saying, "It's a carcinoid; it's not a big problem," he said. "And, in some of these cases, they misinform the patient, and then you get disappointed people, to say the least."

Jadon says his case boils down to a simple but horrifying fact: "The worst-case scenario is me. Why me?"

In the beginning

Jadon White – unemployed and uninsured – had stomach pain and was coughing up blood when he first showed up at Parkland's emergency room on July 18, 2003. An ER nurse made him wear a face mask in case it was tuberculosis.

After an initial assessment, Jadon waited four hours to be called for a chest X-ray and other tests. Hospital records show it took nine more hours until he was paged to see a doctor. By that time, 13 hours after his arrival, Jadon had gone home to bed.

"I got tired," he explained.

The next morning, Jadon redoubled his efforts. He gave the ER nurse more details of his physical deterioration – night sweats, the loss of 20 pounds in two months and severe coughing that made his throat raw.

This time, Parkland's response was swift, and the hospital admitted Jadon for four days of further testing and physical exams. A carcinoid tumor was suspected almost immediately, and a biopsy quickly confirmed it. His medical records term the 4-centimeter mass a "classical carcinoid tumor." A microscopic examination of the tissue was "negative for malignant cells."

Surgery came 27 days after Jadon's initial ER visit. The surgeon removed the tumor along with 70 percent of his right lung. A single lymph node appeared "invaded" by the tumor but was nonmalignant, medical records show.

Jadon weathered the surgery without problems but was upset by the way Parkland relied on resident doctors, who are in training at the hospital. It's one thing to know that you're a patient in a teaching hospital; it's another to feel like you are the daily lesson plan for a steady stream of young doctors who show up at your bedside.

"The doctor who did my surgery was really, really good," Jadon recalled. "But he would send his henchmen around, and I'd have to start all over again answering their questions while I was in pain. I wanted them to read my chart."

Jadon spent six days in the hospital recovering. A physician's note called the period "unremarkable," but Jadon remembers struggling to adjust. He had to train his remaining healthy lung to take on a bigger breathing job. His medical records indicate he had breathing difficulties and fluid in his lungs after he left the hospital.

"It felt like my whole insides had been ripped out," Jadon recalled in mid-February, lying in bed at home. "It's like they left a brick in one side of my chest that's keeping the air from getting through, and the lung on the other side has to compensate."

In fall 2003, Jadon made several trips back to Parkland's emergency room searching for more effective pain medication. By November 2003, records show, he had begun worrying that the disease was spreading.

The doctors were giving him prescriptions for post-surgical pain, breathing tests to exercise his lungs and periodic bone scans. But even as the Whites settled into monthly visits to various Parkland clinics, they remained suspicious that Jadon was not getting enough attention.

Neither father nor son had much understanding of the carcinoid disease that had torn apart their lives. Jadon says he isn't much of a reader, and Mr. White struggles to read and write – so they were unequipped to ask questions about Jadon's care. One doctor encouraged them to check the Internet for information, but the Whites have no computer.

Instead, they put their trust in Parkland, but as time went by, they began to question that blind faith.

The Whites were particularly bothered by the long waits – four to five hours – for scheduled appointments, for which Mr. White had to take vacation days from work. Conditions improved in late January after a reporter and photographer began accompanying Jadon to his doctors' appointments.

But by then it was too late. So when hospital staffers offered Jadon a glass of juice and cookies to stave off his hunger pangs during one visit, the Whites bristled.

"I feel the reason we got in here first today is The Dallas Morning News is here," Mr. White complained to Jadon's doctors after waiting only 45 minutes to be seen (compared with hours) and spending more than an hour (compared with minutes) with the doctors.

The unending shuffle of Parkland doctors pushed Mr. White to tears. These mostly young "resident physicians" spend three years or more learning a medical specialty at Parkland. The University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center faculty supervises them.

"Jadon and I went to his appointments faithfully," Mr. White said. "You'd go up there one day, and a doctor wants to do something. The next time, another doctor wants to do something else."

After six months of care, the Whites complained about the lack of definitive answers concerning Jadon's condition. One test suggested that a carcinoid tumor might be spreading to his spine, while another indicated everything was fine. Mr. White wondered if Jadon would get better care if he were a private-paying patient at another hospital.

"If he had money and insurance, they would have given him more attention," he said. "They would have kept up."

[TexasStooge]

Death in police custody ruled homicide

By JENNIFER EMILY / The Dallas Morning News

PLANO, Texas - The death of a man who was handcuffed in Plano police custody was a homicide, the Collin County medical examiner said Friday.

Plano police declined to discuss who was responsible for Anthony Sanders' death at his neighbor's home in February.

Neighbors said they restrained Mr. Sanders after he attacked a man who was holding his infant son. Plano police responded and handcuffed the man before officers noticed he had stopped breathing.

The cause of death is listed as "sudden death due to chest compression and restraint" and post-traumatic mental disorder, the Collin County medical examiner, Dr. William Rohr, said in a written statement.

Mr. Sanders' injuries occurred in a struggle in which he was "subdued by sitting on his back all while in a prone position," the statement said. "There was subsequent unresponsiveness."

Mr. Sanders' relatives could not be reached for comment Friday.

A Plano police spokesman said only that police were referring the death to a Collin County grand jury and that the department was conducting an internal investigation.

"We're presenting this whole thing to the grand jury," Officer Carl Duke said. "We want them to be impartial. We don't want to influence them in any way."

The department is not referring charges against any one person to the grand jury, Officer Duke said. Instead, it is referring the incident, and the grand jury will decide what charges, if any, should be filed.

The officer who handcuffed Mr. Sanders will not work outside police headquarters during the investigation. Officer Duke declined to name the officer.

A police report shows that eight police personnel were present the night of the death: one reporting officer, four assisting officers, a primary officer, a lead investigator and someone from the crime scene unit.

Police had been called twice that day about Mr. Sanders.

His relatives called police first because he was out of control at his mother's house, relatives have said. Police left without making any arrests or taking him to a mental hospital, as his family asked. Police said Mr. Sanders did not meet the requirements for a mental commitment.

Later that day, Carlos Mercado said, he was holding his infant son, Carlos, when Mr. Sanders came over and began hitting him. Mr. Mercado tossed his son onto an armchair to protect him.

Then Mr. Mercado and a cousin restrained Mr. Sanders on his side until police arrived. Police said the neighbors told them they held Mr. Sanders down to "keep him under control."

After he had been handcuffed, officers talking to neighbors realized Mr. Sanders was not breathing, and he was taken to Medical Center of Plano, where he was declared dead, police have said.

Mr. Sanders suffered from mental problems after he was badly burned at age 6 in a fire at his grandmother's house, his family said the day after he died. His brain had been deprived of oxygen, and he had burns over 65 percent of his body. He was badly scarred even after 27 plastic surgeries.

Mr. Mercado said officers only handcuffed Mr. Sanders and did not hurt him.

"I feel very bad about what happened," he said.

He added that he had never seen his friend show any signs of violence before.

Staff writer Stella M. Chavez and WFAA ABC 8 contributed to this report.

[TexasStooge]

Plano student wins bee

By TOYA LYNN STEWART / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - Nikhil Koganti isn't sure how many words he can spell, but on Saturday he knew enough as he took the top spot in 47th annual The Dallas Morning News Regional Spelling Bee, broadcast live on WFAA ABC 8.

The Plano eighth-grader, who attends Rice Middle School, out-spelled 32 other students and will travel to Washington, D.C., to represent North Texas at the Scripps National Spelling Bee from May 29 to June 3.

Saturday's contest was in sharp contrast to last year's event when a controversial judging error led to four winners from North Texas being sent to the national finals in Washington. Nikhil won't have to share his victory with anyone.

"It's one of the best feelings I've felt in a long time," said Nikhil, 13, after the contest as he cradled his gold trophy. "I'm very excited."

No wonder.

After successfully spelling words like trifurcate, ptyalin, necrobacillosis he seemed to glissade and win the contest.

Glissade – which means to move along smoothly and effortlessly – by the way, was his winning word.

This was the second year Nikhil competed in the regional spelling bee.

He estimated that since December he's studied about 3,000 words in an attempt to learn their meanings, origins, definitions, pronunciations and most importantly, their correct spellings.

His dad, Nagesh Koganti, said watching his son was "extremely tense."

"It was nerve-racking," said his mom, Nalini Koganti, who wrote down each word as her son spelled them.

Hannah Bosley, an eighth-grader at Moore Middle School in Tyler, was the runner-up in Saturday's contest.

"The whole time I was praying that God would help me," said Hannah, a bit tearfully after the spelling bee. This is the third time she's competed in the regional contest.

Third place winner Thomas Quintana, an eighth-grader at Stone Middle School in Paris, Texas, said he knew the word that tripped him up but just forgot how to spell it.

"It was arpeggio, a-r-p-e-g-g-i-o," he said, joking that he might try to get held back a year at school so he could compete again next year.

His parents quickly nixed that idea, adding that they were extremely proud of their son.

One of the judges, lawyer J. Quitman Stephens, said all of the contestants should be proud of their efforts.

It's a feeling Mr. Stephens knows first-hand. He won the regional spelling bee in 1984 and 1985. He placed ninth in the national spelling bee in 1985.

"If you get in this room, you're the best of the best," said Mr. Stephens. "They've got to know that whatever happens they are all champions."

[TexasStooge]

If a tree falls in Texas, what's it worth?

Development, lawsuits create need to put a price on oak or elm

By PAUL MEYER / The Dallas Morning News

McKINNEY, Texas – Towering 76 feet with a titanic trunk and the wingspan of a passenger jet, this 269-year-old chinquapin oak is no doubt majestic.

But how much is it worth, in dollars and cents?

It may be a crass bit of capitalism to put a price on an old neighborhood tree. You can't sell it, trade it at a pawnshop or list it in a portfolio of assets.

"I guess we're seeing more of it because more people are aware of it, and we have more court cases where appraisals have been used," said Todd Watson, assistant professor of Urban and Community Forestry at Texas A&M University. "The value is subjective, just like real estate appraisals. Two real estate appraisals wouldn't appraise property at the exact same amount."

Last week it was agreed that six lots in McKinney where homes were planned would instead become a city park, saving a row of chinquapin oaks. Two of the trees are among the area's largest.

Local arborists say the largest chinquapin oak in that group is worth about $50,000, based on size, species, and dozens of other factors included in national standards established by arborists.

Other economic models meanwhile, now assign dollar figures to the environmental benefits of trees – including their ability to help with runoff, erosion and air pollution.

"We want to show the citizens the value of our trees. Sometimes, it's hard for people to understand how trees are truly valuable," said Renee Burke-Brown, Plano's urban forester.

"Everybody knows they clean the air and provide environmental benefits ... but I feel it's important for people to know the value of trees, and a lot of people truly understand money numbers."

In Plano, officials have so far inventoried 6,000 trees on public land. The value? $16 million, Ms. Brown says. That figure, however, doesn't include air pollution benefits calculated at $10,000 annually and storm water benefits of $325,000 annually, derived using software that's catching on across the country.

Landscape liability law

In Riverside, Calif., attorney Randall Stamen has found a niche in the obscure world of landscape liability law, a world where the dollar value of trees is a daily subject of contention.

Like in North Texas, where development patterns have spawned increasing conflicts with nature and neighbors, Southern California's growth has meant a steady stream of arbor-related battles. There are the drivers who take out whole trees, chemical spills that exterminate everything in a front yard, and numerous people cutting trees to improve their views.

"There are a lot more lawsuits and disputes involving trees," said Mr. Stamen, also an arborist and the author of a book on arboriculture law in California.

Mr. Stamen says it's not unlike practicing divorce law. People get emotional about trees.

"I think we're seeing more simply because we're living closer and closer to each other, especially in Southern California," he said. "I've done real well with it so far."

In Texas, a tree's final value is often left up to a jury in the rare cases that get to trial. Usually, lawyers and arborists say, disputes are settled before expensive lawsuits find a courtroom.

"If you look at the case law, you'll see more and more cases where they'll give the value of the trees," said Doug Becker, chairman of the real estate, probate and trust law section of the State Bar of Texas.

For cases involving small trees – easily replaced at a nursery – figuring the value is a relatively simple task. On heavily wooded rural land like in East Texas, value can be set based on timber value or land value with and without the trees.

But for large historic trees in suburban or urban forests, determining value is tricky.

A tree's 'intrinsic value'

Arborist Russell Peters has been in the plant appraisal business for 20 years, often used as an expert witness in heated tree battles or hired by insurance companies to determine values.

"The sad thing about the process is that there's nothing that really takes into consideration the intrinsic value of the trees," he said. "That's something that in all honesty an attorney is better to argue."

The Wylie-based arborist says the most expensive tree he has studied was a historic birch tree outside a Rhode Island library. That tree, a team of arborists found, was worth $250,000 – in part due to the fact that its existence helped attendance at the library.

Trees locally can routinely run into the tens of thousands of dollars, arborists say, with premiums put on trees that are the largest for their species in the region or stand on an especially prime location.

As the suburbs continue their spread, the tree battles will only intensify, arborists say.

Adding to home's value

In Anna, homeowners recently accused developers of demolishing a fence line of hackberries, oaks and pecans. That dispute has yet to reach resolution.

But for many developers, the economics of trees are beginning to sink in. Mr. Watson says studies have shown that trees can add 5 to 27 percent to property values.

"In our business, we look harder today at where the trees and natural features are. Obviously, you can derive lot premiums for those trees," said Steve Magee, senior vice president of real estate for Centex Homes DFW. "More and more today, there's just more concern about trying to preserve the natural features of sites when you can."

Last week, Centex agreed donate land to McKinney for a park to save the old oak trees in homeowners' back yards.

That sentiment, coupled with tree preservation ordinances in cities across North Texas, may make tree huggers breathe a bit easier.

"It's like saying, 'What's the value of the Liberty Bell?' There are six liberty bells along their property line," said arborist Bill Seaman of the McKinney trees.

"These trees have a worth instead of a value. These trees are about quality of life."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Valuable Trees

Hare are the five most valuable tree species in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, as determined by the Texas chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture. The list is used as a supplement to the Guide for Plant Appraisal.

1: Prosopis glandulosa – Honey mesquite

1 (tie): Quercus virginiana – Live oak

2: Diospyros texana – Texas persimmon

3: Quercus nuttallii – Nuttall oak

3(tie) Quercus lyrata – Overcup oak

SOURCES: The International Society of Arboriculture Texas Chapter; Texas A&M University; Auburn University; University of Arizona
But determining a tree's monetary value is becoming a daily issue for arborists, insurance companies and even the IRS, as they confront tree trimmers, neighbors with overzealous chainsaws, drunken drivers who maul crape myrtles or tornados that rip up prized pecans.

[TexasStooge]

Police break up crowds at concert

By Brandon Formby / The Dallas Morning News

DALLAS, Texas - More than 30 Dallas police officers dispersed crowds and guarded the Dallas Fair Park Centennial Building on Sunday after they received reports that fights had broken out at a concert and car show.

Police Sgt. Mike Morgan said three teams were dispatched because the department received reports of people breaking fence barriers and fighting. No injuries or arrests were reported, he said.

[TexasStooge]

Men to face off with their leprechaun look

At Shamrock contest, hair today is likely to be gone tomorrow

By DIANE JENNINGS / The Dallas Morning News

SHAMROCK, Texas – The Donegal beard is not a look that works for just anyone.

Fact is, a clean-shaven lip and neck with a fringe of fuzz just along the jawline might work only for leprechauns, Abraham Lincoln look-alikes and former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop.

But during the St. Patrick's celebration, the Donegal is the look in this Panhandle town.

Men in Shamrock began competing in the Donegal beard-growing contest in the late 1930s in homage to the town's Irish roots as part of an elaborate St. Patrick's Day celebration that's one of the Panhandle's biggest annual events.

The rules are simple and few. Contestants must start clean-shaven on New Year's Day. And they must wear a Donegal at the contest.

Because the look is not, shall we say, particularly flattering, most men craft the Donegal style just a day or two before the contest.

Kim Angeley, the town's only barber and one who still offers a "straight shave," said the contest is "big out here."

In reality, many of the contestants, usually numbering four to 18, hail from other places. But the sons of Shamrock, with years of competition behind them, probably put a lot more thought and strategy into their beards than out-of-towners.

Come today, the town of 2,000 will swell several times its size, and the Donegal will take center stage.

The World Beard and Moustache Association lists no Donegal category in the world championships. (Yes, there is such a thing.)

Phil Olsen, North American coordinator for the association, said he was unfamiliar with the term until he saw Growin' a Beard, a quirky documentary that helped spread the word about Shamrock's contest.

"It depends on who's doing the recognizing," said Mr. Olsen, a Californian. "It's certainly recognized in Shamrock, Texas."

The beard used to be so recognizable that in the 1950s and '60s, "You could go to Oklahoma City, even go to Dallas, and if you had one of those beards, why they knew you were from Shamrock," said Richard Smith, 68, who has won the contest five times.

He said he enters only every 10 years "to give somebody else a chance to win."

No one is sure how the beard style came to be called a Donegal. Folks in Ireland, where there is a county by that name, say they've never heard of it being applied to facial hair.

Name's a mystery

"There are a lot of Irish-Americans in this country who come from Donegal," said an amused Joe Hackett, spokesman for the Irish Embassy in Washington. "But I haven't heard of a Donegal beard."

In response to an e-mail query, Berni Campbell, Local Studies librarian in Letterkenny, the largest town in County Donegal, wrote that she could "find no reference to this type of beard."

Ms. Angeley, the barber, said she'd never heard of the term Donegal until she moved to Shamrock five years ago. Now she's the "Chief Fuzzer," sort of the contest administrator. During the celebration, she is authorized to toss unbearded men in the "Barefaced Jail" unless they've purchased a $5 "shaving permit" – up from $1 last year.

Shamrock – on the flatlands about 90 miles east of Amarillo – was named for good luck and courage by Irish immigrant George Nickel around 1900.

The town started the contest as a sort of "battle of the bands" when a local bandmaster invited several high school groups to march in a St. Patrick's Day parade.

After a hiatus from 1941 to 1950, the St. Patrick's celebration grew with the town. In the mid-20th century, the farm, ranch, oil and gas town hit its glory days, as it became a popular stop on the famous "Mother Road," Route 66.

At one time, the parade included as many as 60 marching bands, and crowds were so large that spectators lined the streets and rooftops of downtown Shamrock.

When Interstate 40, the highway parallel to Route 66, was routed around Shamrock, however, many of the businesses closed up shop.

The glory days were over, but the tradition continued.

Today, the St. Patrick's Day celebration includes not just the beard-growing contest, but also a banquet, parade, carnival, dance, beauty pageant, antique car show, motorcycle rally, team roping contest and an amateur bull-riding contest.

The day of the parade, a trio of judges handpicked by the Chief Fuzzer (usually out-of-towners because they're more objective), will touch, tug, brush and lift the beards. Judges gauge the entrants' whiskers for thickness, uniqueness and whether or not they're sporting a "true Donegal."

All in the family

Since he's not entering, Mr. Smith hasn't paid much attention to this year's competitors.

But he added that a perennial competitor, Bill Lisle, "is looking pretty good."

Mr. Lisle describes his natural white beard as a "Santy Claus look." He plans to pair it with Western wear.

He has entered the contest more times than he can remember, "just to have something to do."

"It's just a man's thing I guess," Mr. Lisle said while pushing cattle through the pens at Shamrock's livestock auction.

If there is any buzz about this year's contest, it concerns one of the town's few doctors, Dr. D.E. Blackketter.

While most contestants wait to the last minute to shave their upper lips, "Dr. B's is one of few true Donegals," said David Rushing, director of the Shamrock Economic Development Corp.

It's also the first time in at least half a century that the 81-year-old physician has sprouted whiskers. If you're looking for Dr. B these days, "look for the one who looks like a leprechaun," a booster club member advised helpfully.

Dr. B said he started his beard New Year's Day on a challenge from his three grandsons.

When the 20-something young men were leaving after the holidays, they mentioned that it was "time to start growing Donegals around here."

His son and son-in-law also are growing beards, he said. If everybody can get off from work, the family will enter together.

Even if they don't, "We'll have a family contest," he said.

Whether or not Dr. B enters, locals have enjoyed watching his whiskers grow.

Ever since New Year's Day, he said, "I've been catching hell."

Going green

He won't have much longer to wait for this year's contest with the theme "Towering over Texas," in honor of the town's landmark water tower.

For Mr. Angeley, chairman of the event, that means getting his bushy batch of ginger whiskers trimmed and dyed a bright green to match his shirt and cowboy hat.

But he won't vie for the $100 prize and bragging rights.

His wife is the Chief Fuzzer, he says. "If I was to win, I might be accused of sleeping with the judge."