This Week’s Top 5 Long Reads

In this week’s issue:

• Dallas lawyer fights city’s illegal evictions
• The life of a tennis underdog
• Portraits of Southern Documentary Photographers
• The macabre market for body parts
• Explore San Francisco in the Tesla Cybertruck

JK Nickels | Texas Monthly | June 10, 2024 | 10,640 words

As we all know, the U.S. housing market is a nightmare. Real estate prices and interest rates are soaring, making home buying unthinkable for many. Renters are also facing dire circumstances. According to the Joint Center for Housing Studies at Harvard University, “affordable housing conditions are the worst they’ve ever been.” (I urge you to check out the data in the JCHS link; it’s astounding.) Policymakers have done little to ease the burden of housing costs, even for the most vulnerable, or to protect renters from landlords who, for all we know, just don’t care about the people under their roof. But in Dallas, Texas, a landlord under the watchful eye of a local attorney named Mark Melton is in dire straits. When readers first encounter Melton in this excellent profile by J.K. Nickel, he’s “wearing a sweat-stained purple Patagonia cap.” [and] An untucked T-shirt dangling loosely over his jeans. In my imagination, the T-shirt has the phrase “Enough is Enough!” emblazoned on it, because that’s Melton’s mantra in a nutshell. Since 2020, Melton has been doing everything in his power to stop illegal evictions in Dallas County. He’s enlisted a legion of allies, including lawyers who literally block renters from going to eviction hearings before a magistrate judge, and elected officials who “don’t even need a high school diploma, let alone a law degree.” (Really?!) These advocates demand that landlords follow the law and give proper notice before kicking someone out of their home, for example. Legal When it comes to evictions, ones based on policies designed to punish people in need, Nickel shows there’s little reason for hope. Texas renters shouldn’t expect the laws to change anytime soon. This is a clear indication of Melton’s character: he’s a man who does what he can with what he has, undeterred by the bigger picture. It’s not everything, but it’s something, and to the people he helps, it’s a big thing. I read this story in one sitting, driven by my respect for Melton and my anger at the Texas eviction machine. —SD

Conor Niland | The Guardian | June 27, 2024 | 3,845 words

Wimbledon is a world of Pimm’s, strawberries and crisp white tennis wear. It’s also a world that revolves around the show courts, Centre and Court 1, where the big names play and the crowds go wild. The lower-ranked players battle it out on courts at the edge of the grounds, in front of sparse crowds. It’s a visual representation of tennis’ extreme hierarchy. Only the top 112 players in the world (plus a wild card) qualify for Wimbledon. And the lower you go, the tougher it gets, as Irish player Conor Niland explains in this grim portrayal. We hear a lot about the journey of the world’s best players, but what about those who hover between 300 and 600th place, “winning enough to keep the dream alive and faint”?[?]”appreciate Parents It features articles about people who don’t get to be in the spotlight, articles that show how difficult it is if you have the talent but don’t have it. sufficient. A story seldom told. Niland isn’t opposed to the complaints he makes in this essay, but you can forgive him when he reveals the low pay, the exhausting travel, the dingy hotels, the long waits to play, and the endless loneliness. Without people like Niland who fight their way up the rankings, players like Serena Williams and Novak Djokovic wouldn’t exist, but it’s tough to become a stepping stone for others. You’ll come away from this essay with a new appreciation for the underdogs who never make it to the top. —CW

Wendell Block, Paul Kwirecki | The Bitter Southerner | June 26, 2024 | 6,957 words

for Bitter SouthernerIn , writer Wendell Block has dug through photo archives, books, diaries and more to carve out a satisfying portrait of Paul Kwirecki. Kwirecki was a fastidious, self-taught photographer with such deep feelings for his hometown that it became the subject of his oeuvre. Block highlights Kwirecki’s tenacity, dedication and trust in the process of making art. “The drive and energy to continue for years comes from watching layers of the subject peel away before your eyes, seeing material you didn’t know existed until you penetrated the upper layers,” Kwirecki says. “Eventually, you realize that the supply is inexhaustible, a lesson in itself, and how much you can make of it depends on your patience and skill.” More than a profile of a dedicated photographer, this work is a celebration of the art, what it means to make art, and its everlasting impact if you keep showing up with the courage to do so. I love the slow feel of this essay. It meditates, it ruminates. It’s like a slow walk on a beautiful day for no reason other than the joy of the journey. It feels like a fitting tribute to Kwirecki, who captured pieces of Decatur County, Georgia on film for four decades, providing us with an indelible portrait of the place through time. What’s most poignant about this story, and what I’ll never forget, is that Kwirecki never felt like he fit in, never felt like he was being noticed. And yet he spent his entire creative career documenting the people and spaces around him, patiently bearing witness. —KS

Allie Germaning | WBUR | June 13, 2024 | 3,526 words

We all have our odd reading obsessions. In my case, it’s poop and eco-friendly death, and perhaps an offshoot of the latter, an interest in what happens to our bodies, intact or not, after death. The idea of ​​buying and selling body parts is unsettling, so I was unsure whether to recommend this story. But as it turns out, Allie Germanning’s glimpse into this macabre market was intriguing. On Facebook, people openly discuss selling and shipping body parts like items at a garage sale, and believe it or not, this market is legal. That is, as long as the body parts available are not stolen. Now, on to the case of Cedric Lodge, who managed the Harvard Medical School morgue for nearly 30 years. At one point in his career, he decided to steal body parts from corpses and sell them to his customers. Apparently at Harvard, no one kept track of where the bodies went after medical students finished their studies, and Lodge was buying and selling body parts for at least four years. According to Germanning’s report, Lodge sold the bodies to buyers across the United States. One collector in this network, Jeremy Pauley, operated in the niche field of strange artifacts before becoming the face of a major criminal investigation. I won’t give away the details, but suffice to say that beneath the brutality lies a thought-provoking look at wealth, collecting, and preservation. —CLR

Drew McGarry | SF Gate | July 9, 2024 | 1,964 words

If you’ve seen the Tesla Cybertruck in person, you know that photos only do it a little justice: It’s huge. Large scaleIt looks like something a seventh grade boy drew in his notebook with a picture of a shuriken. It looks like it came with a pre-installed license plate that reads B4D4SS. It looks like an energy drink can is sentient and watching. Space Warrior Maybe some people designed a car without realizing the implications. But the car exists. People own them, and they seem to drive them unashamedly down the street. Drew McGarry is not one of those people. He’s not an automotive journalist. He’s a columnist, a very funny writer who happens to resemble the typical Cybertruck owner. And renting a Cybertruck makes for the perfect story for a hot summer week. It’s short, breezy, and refreshing. “Did you know that sometimes Apple baffles the world by doing away with standard features like a headphone jack?” he writes. “Now, imagine a car made entirely of that kind of gimmick.” McGarry’s car experience is as funny as you’d expect, even when he’s driving it and not getting the middle finger. He’s pissed at the fighter pilot’s steering wheel. He can’t figure out how to turn off the giant windshield wipers. He’s nearly crushed by the retractable roof. But really, it’s his disdain for Elon Musk and the Cybertruck’s obvious target demographic — men who use speakerphones on airplanes — that energizes the story. Writing about people rather than things is where Magaly has shone since the 1980s. Deadspin Every day, this article is no exception. Will Cybertruck owners be satisfied? Of course not. Will you be satisfied? Very satisfied. —public relations