text: That’s the thing about this city. No matter how many times I drive through it or traverse it by foot, I get the same impression. This metropolis of the Southwest values style over substance. Straight south of us, about four hours away, is Houston, a place I don’t particularly care for, but one that does have a certain distinctiveness and flair. For one, officials decided long ago not having any zoning, which means, arguably, you could see a slaughterhouse right next to a senior citizen’s home. It’s the kind of quirkiness for which a number of Houstonians are quite proud. However, the city is also grounded in the oil and shipping industries, which give that city something of a blue-collar feel. Also, south of us, one will find Austin and San Antonio, two metropolitan communities with connections to Texas’ present and past. The former is home to the University of Texas and the state capital, and its life revolves around the burnt orange of the Longhorns and the “Eyes of Texas.” Thrown in a thriving music scene, and one will see what makes Austin tick. Within San Antonio, there remains what’s left of an old Spanish mission called The Alamo. It was there, the legend goes, that more than 180 Texians fought to the last man against Santa Anna’s invading army. Never mind that Texas was part of Mexico at the time, and in Santa Anna’ eyes, as well as many of his compatriots, the Texians he invited to settle the land were trying to steal it by force. Visit the Alamo City, and one will witness Texas pride at its peak, as well as a blended Tex-Mex culture. About an hour to our west is Fort Worth, also known as Cowtown. Don’t laugh, the residents of that city embrace the name, for it’s there are the Fort Worth Stockyards, to which cattle are brought for sale. It’s a link to Texas’ past, where, at least according to Hollywood, where the Lone Star State was home to nothing but cowboys and bandits. Fort Worth also has a true blue-collar feel, where getting one’s hands dirty and earning a living via back-breaking worked is not looked down upon. If you haven’t already guessed, my city is Dallas, commonly known as “Big D,” a metropolitan landscaped consisting of numerous streets, endless buildings, along with an Amtrak station. Yet, for all it has, Dallas truly has no substance. When one mentions my city to outsider, usually their first thoughts are of the long-running television series “Dallas,” in which oil men walked around the city wearing finely tailored suits and 10-gallon hats, and “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which featured a senior citizen beating up criminals much younger and bigger than him. In the more than 20 years of living in Big D, I have yet to encounter anyone matching the descriptions of either J.R. Ewing or Cordell Walker. Since its incorporation in 1856, Dallas has grown into a major metropolis that is home to a federal reserve bank, a major newspaper and multiple business and residential high-rises. However, even with all that, there is an emptiness to Big D, one that doesn’t exist in places like New York or Chicago. There, as well as in other small and large metropolises through the nation, one can feel their heartbeat and sense the fabric that ties the citizens together. Not so with Big D. Sure, Dallas has a lot going for it. There is the Texas State Fair and the original Cotton Bowl stadium, the latter of which hosts the annual Red River Shootout between Texas and Oklahoma. The stadium used to host the annual Cotton Bowl Classic every Jan. 1, but now that game is played in nearby Arlington at the home of the Dallas Cowboys. In a way, though, the Cowboys have been a good metaphor for Dallas, in that throughout their history, the so-called “America’s Team,” has placed more emphasis on style over substance, whether it was the polished looked of Tom Landry’s teams or the current regime of Jerry Jones, which features an emphasis on making money. Even their current stadium is pure Dallas, as it was built to house more than 100,000 people who can watch a contest in what’s best described as an athletic amusement park. The fact it’s located near Six Flags over Texas, an actual amusement facility, is quite appropriate. The Cowboys have much success during their more than 60 years of existence. However, more often than not, they’ve failed in crunch time because they had no solid core upon which to draw, much like the city they supposedly represent. In the 1960s, and in subsequent years, Dallas’ opponents often said if you figuratively “punched them in the mouth,” the Cowboys wouldn’t know what to do. There was truth to that, because the Cowboys, were more interested in looking good. They had to maintain their “style” above all else. Other teams, understood the final score was the most important thing, not how you looked getting there. While a one- or two-point win satisfied most competitors, Cowboy players and coaches, most of the time, viewed such triumphs with disdain, because they did not look perfect in achieving victory. Such is the way life in Big D, where being seen with the right people, wearing the right clothes and shopping at expensive restaurants and stores are musts if one if to be a true Dallasite. Let’s just say that Dallas does its very best to a southwestern version of Hollywood, although those television and movie portrayals would believe one to think otherwise. If you look good, stand tall and present yourself in an acceptable manner, you can make it in Dallas. Your true self is irrelevant. That’s why celebrities and athletes who speak their mind, or could care less about appearance, would never cut it in Big D. Here, one must look and act and certain way, not be true to one’s self. I could never imagine the late, great Ted Williams working or playing in Dallas. A solid celluloid example of Dallas-based thinking can be found in the Norris film “Lone Wolf McQuade,” arguably the inspiration for Walker Texas Ranger. In it, Norris plays a Texas Ranger willing to do what it takes to catch the villain, including the bending the rules. Most of all, he doesn’t mind being bloodied and getting dirty along with way. This latter point doesn’t sit well with his boss, who wants his Rangers to have a certain “style,” one that is presentable to the public. Results don’t matter, it’s how one looks doing them that counts. I’ll give credit to Dallas’ leaders, all the way back to the ones who were here before the city became incorporated. Over time, they made sure Dallas obtained everything necessary to make it major metropolis. It presents a skyline that’s impressive whether viewing it from ground or air. However, that’s all there is, because there isn’t much beneath. Perhaps that’s the way Dallas’ founders wanted, and, if so, they got their wish. After all, its style, not substance that counts, and Dallas lives by that motto every day of the week.