Out of thin air—or of mythic consciousness — a Texasngovernor once plucked unhesitatingly the mot juste.nThe governor, Allan Shivers, who served back in the 1950’s,nwas indignant over some piece or other of legislativentomfoolery. As he saw it, the whole enterprise was downrightn”un-Texan.”n”Un-Texan.” Right there we had the nub of the matter.nNo deeper truth, no higher reality, needed to be fingered.nThe governor’s listeners were to understand that twonstandards informed political discourse and deliberation —none for Texans and another for everybody else. The Greeks,nwhose word for foreigner was “barbarian,” would doubtlessnhave understood.nTexas is different, yes, when measured against the standardsnof Michigan, North Carolina, and South Dakota. Hasnany measure of uplift or social transformation ever beenncondemned as un-Carolinian? Un-Dakotan?nIn the federal union of states, Texas is distinct all right. Itnmay be even more distinct than the legends suggest and allnthe more meritorious for that—at least from a certainnphilosophical vantage point.nI give fair warning: we are traversing here the countrysidenof myth. Step carefully. The Texas myth of real men in thenwide open spaces is notoriously potent, engaging — andndangerous. Dangerous because it leads to exaggeration: thenblam-blam, take-that-you-varmint kind. I never cease to benamazed — yes, even in this year of grace 1989 — at hownmany non-Texans believe our state to be populated chieflynby cattlemen and oil barons. An informal survey I havenconducted reveals that we have slightly more of these typesnthan England has monocled earls who say “pip, pip. “nMere statistical veracity is nevertheless not the point. ThenWilliam Murchison is a columnist for The DallasnMorning News.n20/CHRONICLESnLone Star Populismnby William Murchisonn..^-nnnpoint is that nobody, however large his moneybags, leadsnTexans around by the nose or tells them what to think ornhow to think it. The standards, the norms, of Texas grownfrom the grassroots. Those roots may, and often do, yieldnwealth and power, but wealth and power are not permittednto overgrow the plot as a whole.nThis is with the usual exceptions, carved out to accommodatenhuman nature. Texans, like Kentuckians, Utahans,nand Rhode Islanders, admire wealth; they enjoy driving bigncars, shopping at Neiman-Marcus, and being photographednat fancy parties. But with admiration goes a certain skepticismnabout the importance of money in the great scheme ofnthings.nThe opinions of the rich do not receive automaticndeference. Most Texas money, in an ever-changing economicnclimate, is new, or at best newish — 40 or 50 yearsnold. Joe Ed can recollect back when Jim Bob was dirt poor,nand just because Jim has that fancy computer companynnow . . . well, you know what they say about here today,ngone tomorrow. (Skepticism about wealth comes all theneasier in the late 80’s, what with the collapse of a speculativenreal estate market that propelled to power some very sharpnand very flashy operators.)nMoney and wealth are not the only measuring sticks, ofncourse. There is also intellect. Intellectuals notoriously likentelling other people what to think. In Texas they rarely getnaway with it. Here there is no aristocracy of brains any morenthan there is an aristocracy of cash.nThis may sound more condescending than it is meant tonsound. Texans are as bright and witty as people elsewhere. Itnmerely happens they resist sitting openmouthed whilenothers lay down the law. The law? They can figure that outnfor themselves. Texans need no intrusive interpreters.nThe Baptists, whose creed is the noncreed of “every mannhis own priest,” have ever flourished in Texas. According ton