At first blush, Dan Rather seemed an odd choice for guest speaker at the SafePlace Celebration. Of course whatever the longtime newsman and sometime Austinite said was bound to be intriguing. But what does he have to do with shelters and services for victims of domestic violence?

Jeff and Deanna Serra

We soon found out at the packed — and unusually well-catered — Hilton Austin luncheon on Friday. In 1981, not long after the charity, then known as the Battered Women’s Shelter, was founded, Rather featured it on the widely watched national news magazine “60 Minutes.” At the time, such a place was startling news, especially in macho Texas, where domestic violence was, pardon the expression, swept under the carpet.

Mary and Rusty Tally

No longer. In fact, so supportive is society of such crucial aid, the shelter’s placement is no longer a secret. For those who look at the past through rose-colored glasses and who think traditional relations among household members should not be altered, just consider how far we’ve come in 35 years. Want to go back? I didn’t think so.

Frank and Nina Seely

Texas Tribune editor Evan Smith interviewed Rather from the stage. As usual, Smith balanced sincere flattery with tough questions. He sought insights into the role of women in the presidential race. The crowd sounded bipartisan, but everyone seemed to agree that it’s surprising long-settled issues like contraception and equal pay for women keep creeping back into the discussion.

Forrest Preece and Linda Ball

SafePlace director Julia Spann introduced the eloquent survivor speaker Anna Belle Burleson — a former client and now backer of the charity — the the winner of the group’s Guardian Award, longtime board member Patti O’Meara .

Described as a “woman of peace,” O’Meara is clearly somebody I should get to know better.

CORRECTION: Jeff and Deanna Serra were misidentified in an earlier version of this post.

The goals of a benefit party are to raise money and, at the same time, to raise a little heck. Not too much. Dignity to the end, my dears.

Kevin and Alteza Ahart

Glitz meets both goals. The second annual rally for OutYouth picked up almost $100,000 at last count. And, while I was there, folks were having a time poolside at Anne and Cord Shiflet’s home in hilly Rob Roy.

The black-hatted guys with Texas Jacobson Avian

Here, gays, lesbians and their straight friends gathered in fairly equal numbers. A fair number of them from the real estate field. They mingled inside the pool house, by the outdoor lounge area and, of course, alongside the swim-up bar.

To this date, your social columnist has never ordered a drink from the water side of a swim-up bar. The day will come.

Karen Liddy and Melissa Paretti

Last year, at the Shiflet’s behest, the most hardy guests jumped fully clothed into the large, deep pool. If a soaking happened this year, I missed it. Sometimes it takes just a little heck to keep me happy.

Nudes cluster on West Sixth Street. Nudes embracing. Warmly.

They became available to dealer Lisa Russell when the sculptor’s wife, Angeline Umlauf, died in June.

The Umlauf Sculpture Garden & Museum retains many of the larger works and will determine what becomes of the family’s hilltop house and studio.

The lively assembly at the Russell Collection is eclectic — abstracts, portraits, religious images, family scenes and, of course, echoes of his famous pupil, Farrah Fawcett.

After Nov. 6, the unsold art goes back to the family, not likely to be available again on this scale.

It’s amazing how much one can learn during one quick tour of a hotel lobby.

Right before the Epic Evening for Texas Freedom Network, I made the rounds. Aaron Gellhous told me about working for power broker Ben Barnes. He promised to help me nail down a formal interview with environmental entrepreneur Melanie Barnes.

Aaron and Libby Gellhaus

Karen Gross told me she was leaving the Anti-Defamation League to practice advocacy law. She will be missed. But, to borrow a phrase from “Fiorello,” she’s working on the side of the angels.

With Karen, I me Kathryn Freeman, staff attorney at Dallas-based Texas Appleseed, which looks after long-term foster cases.

Rhonda Gerson and Debby Tucker

Nancy Scanlan introduced me to Matt and Peggy Winkler , a willowy couple I’d never met before. The Freedom Network honored biologist Matt this night for standing up to anti-scientific forces on our state’s school boards. Someone has got to do it.

Karen Gross and Kathryn Freeman

I’m sure the rest of the gala was inspiring, but I had another date with Ausitn honorees this night.

The Seton gala is like none other. Virtually no program. Leisurely pace. Lavish time to spend with fellow guests.

Beth Lacerda and Cindy Pekowsky

I took advantage of that on Sunday. In the lobby, I buttonholed nonprofit savant Matt Kouri and developer-benefactor Dick Rathsgaber. You can learn more about how Austin works from those two than at a banquet room full of people less alert to local nuance.

I also met several doctors and discussed the proposed medical school — all this before St. David’s abruptly announced it would not support the plan to fund it. No amount of reading since then has revealed a plausible reason for this stand.

Matt Wayne and Sarah Avery

At my table, I enjoyed the glowing presence of Marcia Levy and family as well as Susan Lubin and family. (Watch for Susan in the cast of Zach’s “Ragtime.”)

To my left was a font of Austin and Houston social erudition, Melissa Jones grandniece of the politician and entrepreneur Jesse H. Jones. Nothing she said during out lively chat was on the record, of course, but slowly one puts together the pieces of how the world works through encounters like these.

Grace Xia and Jason Cheng

Watch, listen and learn, folks.

Note: Once again, the Elmar Prambs and the Four Seasons staff surprised even those who spend too much time at the luxury hotel. I don’t know what motivates them to transform some gala banquets into five-star meals, but Seton certainly merited that treatment.

You see them everywhere.

Their pert bobs and flip smiles show up in all the papers. Surely Lynn Yeldell and Alisa Weldon are Austin’s most visible lesbian couple.

Five years ago, they founded L Style G Style magazine. Next week, their glossy chronicle of the gay and lesbian scene expands to Dallas and Houston.

One of the two, Yeldell, is a financial wiz. The other, Weldon, is the creative source.

Beyond that, most reports on the couple have focused on their leadership — chairing, for instance, the dignified Human Rights Campaign dinner — or on their business ventures.

They recently put out a call for investors and announced that L Style G Style would go online-only for near future.

There is more.

Yeldell, 44, a child of the Deep South, was born in New Orleans to a family of Alabamans. Her father is a retired oil and gas executive, her mother a nutritionist and the former Miss Dairy Princess of Alabama. “So I come from Southern royalty,” Yeldell kids.

Weldon, 37, was born in industrial Pasadena and grew up in more upscale Friendswood, the only child of a divorced couple. She counts two half-siblings.

Yeldell, who made her formal debut into encrusted New Orleans society, was the classic rule follower.

“I was a really good kid because my brother was not a really good kid,” she says. “I realized that if I stayed between the lines that it would be a whole lot easier for everybody.”

Then as now, Weldon is the more rambunctious and high energy one. Yet like Yeldell, she’s not much of a cause-free rebel.

“As a kid, I was super responsible,” she says. “Super do-right, always pleasing.”

In New Orleans at the elite St. Martin’s High School and at the University of Alabama, Yeldell followed the region’s elaborate procession of teas, luncheons, balls, and galas. A matchmaker for debutantes paired her, ironically it turns out, with now-out actor Bryan Batt of “Mad Men” fame.

In suburban Friendswood, Weldon dug into school.

“School was my escape from family life,” she says. “It’s where I got attention and where I was taken care of. I didn’t identify with people my age. I was always ready for the big idea.”

Yeldell majored in finance and economics, pledged Chi Omega and, finally breaking with tradition, was the first woman elected president of the student body. After graduation, she quickly she jumped into the MBA program at the University of Texas.

“I wish I would have gone to work first,” she says. “When you’ve already been in the classroom all your life and you dive into a classroom with people who’ve been working, there’s a whole other language among them.”

Weldon, who skipped the more rough and tumble sports for success in competitive tennis in high school, skipped the athletic scholarships and put herself through Austin Community College.

“I fell in love with Austin immediately,” she says. “It was open.”

Coming out was not easy, however, for either. Yeldell told her friends first, then in a long heart-to-heart, her mother.

“Her biggest fear was what would other people think,” she says. “Mom said: ‘I always wanted to be the mother of the bride.’ I said: ‘I always wanted to the bride.’ It took her a while. She had to grieve.”

Yeldell couldn’t face her conservative dad, but he beat her to the punch with a loving call.

“He said: ‘You are who you are,’” she recalls “‘The way you were meant to be. I’m not going to love you any less.’”

As for Weldon, she came out two weeks before high school graduation and was made unwelcome in her family home. So she moved in with a longtime girlfriend.

Yeldell, who pursued banking and other businesses in New Orleans after grad school, made a harrowing escape from Hurricane Katrina, landing for a while in Shreveport. In Austin for good, she shined at UBS and Bazaarvoice before focusing entirely on the magazine.

“Katrina created a lot of loss,” she says. “But it was one of the best things that happened to me.”

Meanwhile, Weldon did a five-year stint with Central Market before becoming T3’s marketing and advertising agency’s youngest art director — at the time — only 23. She credits the two creative Austin companies with altering her life.

“I mastered everything I could as quickly as I could,” she says.

She also worked for Sicola Martin and the VoxGroup ad agency before taking the magazine plunge.

While volunteering as president of the gay film festival’s board of directors, she met Yeldell, who had recently moved to Austin with a partner.

“Somebody said: ‘You’ve got to meet this really amazing woman,’” Weldon recalls. “We had a natural energy from Moment 1.”

Both women joke that Yeldell, stringing out the last phases of a dying relationship, stalked Weldon.

During a party at the Molotov club, Weldon shared her vision of the magazine. Yeldell, however, wanted to talk about her struggle with an overwhelming attraction to a person she didn’t name.

“As soon as she said it was me, I was immediately intrigued,” Weldon laughs. “My question: What do you plan to do with it?”

Six “respectful” weeks later, they were a couple.

They bonded over the idea of a magazine that would profile members of the gay community and its friends, showcase the creative minds behind change, offer advise on health, food and fashion, and provide a slick advertising outlet along with promotional options for nonprofits.

The first black-outlined issue graced a party in November 2007. Next week’s parties will toast Issue No. 31.

“That’s 31 babies,” Weldon says. “Or that’s what it feels like.

Along the way, the magazine that flips between the two gender sections, fought stereotypes of women, strove to speak up for underdogs and to educate those who think gay people are all alike. To be fair, it leans in the direction the educated and professional classes, but has always sought a range of subjects.

“I wanted to showcase everyday people who happened to be gay,” Weldon says. In 2011, the full-time business and life partners pulled together national publishing executives to explore the next step. They were encouraged to expand to other promising markets.

“I quickly realized this is not an Austin phenomenon,” Yeldell says. “It’s a human-interest phenomenon that applies to more cities than we even are aware of.”

The expansion to just Dallas and Houston, however, proved monumental. They networked with influencers, hired staff, but never found the right personnel to sell ads. In the end, the couple felt all but completely drained.

Weldon says: “We decided to online, do events, put egos aside, and let other people in.”

Once upon a time, benefit luncheons appealed exclusively to women of leisure. They wore hats. They munched on salads, light entrees and an array of desserts. They might watch a fashion show or hear from a culturally enriching speaker.

As early as 1970, Stephen Sondheim saluted them in the song “The Ladies Who Lunch,” which was punctuated by sodden question: “Doesn’t anyone still wear a hat? I’ll drink to that!”

Shree Bose and Julie Shannon

These days, many luncheons have achieved gender parity. Men and women enjoy the break from work. The women are as impressively employed as the men, often more so.

For charities, luncheons offer a lower-cost alternative to more formal evening galas. Another plus: For a long time, there wasn’t much competition. You gave a lunch to avoid the weekend dinner crunch during the social high seasons (spring and fall).

Lorena Alvarez and Gina Ryan

That, however, is changing, along with everything else in Austin.

On Tuesday, five luncheons slammed into one another. Foundation Communities, Salvation Army, Girlstart, American Institute of Architects and Relevant Radio all decided Oct. 23, 2012 was the right midday to raise a little change and/or awareness.

Dawn Jones and Michelle Poindexter

My lunch companion, Austin Parks and Recreation architectural historian Kim McKnight, made the choice for me. And it turned out just right. Along with Girlstart word-spreader Phil West, we sat with the American-Statesman’s Nicole Villalpondo and four lively women from the Texas Film Commission, who filled us in on the campaign to draft girls into gaming.

The conversation never flagged. The highlight on the dais, however, was Shree Bose, the first winner of the Google Global Science Fair. Now 18, the Texan is a freshman at Harvard University. She started researching ovarian cancer at age 15. And her bubbly personality won over the AT&T Center crowd, which including area elementary school girls.

Her remarks reinforced the good work Girlstart is doing with after-school and camp programs that make science, technology, math and engineering fun for girls.

How to avoid the luncheon jam up? Planners for 2013 should reserve a spot on the digital calendars at I Live Here I Give Here and Austin Social Planner.

In some circles, the Harvey Penick Award is considered Austin’s highest honor. It has gone to Austinites of impeccable integrity. All of them have achieved indelible success while giving back to the max.

Yanelys and Leon Thompson

In multi-part ceremony at the Four Seasons Hotel, Caritas honored the founders of GSD&M. We learned a lot about this quintessential Austin company that grew from four “hippies” and one stressed employee to a national phenomenon that has generated unforgettable ideas (“Don’t Mess with Texas”), helped launch huge businesses (Southwest Airlines) and pushed presidential campaigns (Clinton).

Charmie Stryker and Aaron Warner

Among those saluting Steve Gurasich, Tim McClure, Roy Spence and Judy Trabulsi were Evan Smith, Liz Stewart and Neal Splece.

They told long, glorious stories about the founders and their families. Then the founders spoke. Forcefully, eloquently, memorably they celebrated their city, its creative soul and its university. Their university, the one they gave: “What starts here changes the world.”

Judy Trabulsi and Surabhi Kukke

Of course, all this celebrating also focused attention on the evening’s beneficiary, Caritas, and its food service, refugee and social service programs. I’d like to know more about them and especially the founder.

My profile of Lakeway appears in the November issue of Real magazine.

Here’s a taste:

This small city west of Austin has undergone vast alterations in the past 50 years. It started official life as a remote lakeside resort, marina and spa. It grew into a retirement hub fashioned around golf courses, swimming pools and tennis courts.

Now it’s a looser agglomeration of hilltop mansions, modest ranch houses and low-feature apartment complexes served by thick strips of retail centers and a towering new medical center.

“For me, Lakeway is a part of Austin and it is apart to itself at the same time,” says investor and philanthropist Michael Torres. “It shares an identity with Austin, yet it has its own identity.”

Someone recently accused me of being a Longhorn supporter.

Guilty as charged.

I also support the Bobcats, Hilltoppers, Tornados and other Central Texas college teams.

Although the social settings differ dramatically, some things stay the same. One can break down the crowds into seven groups.

The core class for every sport are the gray alumni. They form a knot of fans that are loyal but hard to please. These burnt-orange die-hards don’t cheer, stand or gesticulate unless the athletes deserve the approval.

Next in line are the student zealots. They stand. They jump. They dance and paint their faces. The bigger the sport, the bigger their numbers. They seem to be having a good time no matter what happens. Of the four sports I sampled this week, only volleyball earned their ardor.

Another group mystifies me. Mostly male, they file in as the competition begins. They don’t look too excited to be there, as if their fraternity houses required some spirit attendance. They are even harder to please than the alumni. And they leave as the final second tick off whichever clock.

We should also acknowledge a fourth and more visible group: The cheerleaders, precision dancers. band members and other entertainers who try to pump up the energy in the stands and therefore among the players. They earn my enduring respect. Disciplined, they rarely betray any distraction from the action. Too bad they were absent at most Olympic sports.

A fifth group is almost always present: Kids. Parents and teachers bring along van-loads for wholesome distraction. I’m positive UT does everything to make this possible. What better way to nurture future Longhorns. Virtually the entire crowd for the wind-chilled soccer game versus West Virginia — won in overtime — were youngsters.

Sixth in our field are the sports nerds. I’m searching for more flattering term, but these are the folks who gather balls, polish the court, organize the off-time promotions, keep time, record statistics and otherwise keep the athletic gears greased.

The last tribe: Those like me who are strangers in a strange land. Thank goodness there are others still exploring Longhorn Land.

Of the four new sports for me, volleyball is the most familiar. I’ve played it. Not competitively. But I understand the rules. And it’s exciting. Even given some sloppy playing, the Longhorns looked good in the renovated Gregory Gym, although the house was not full for a Big 12 show down with Baylor. Longhorns won 3-1.

The Jamail Swimming Center is not easy to enter. Signage is almost non-existent. Even inside the building, one doesn’t know where to go. But once in the holy of holies, awe is the right response. Almost immediately, the newcomer can figure out the nature of heats from large screens.

Shamefully, the meet that matched Texas against Michigan and Indiana did not draw more than a few dozen fans. Presumably, we were watching future Olympians in the pool. Just check out the records for the long and short courses posted to the left and right. Big, big, big names on the swimming scene.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how overwhelming and intimidating it is to be in the same space as scores of righteously fit men and women. Don’t go on a bad body day.

Texas women dominated. Michigan men did.

That evening, after an intensely enjoyable meal at nearby Salty Sow, I braved the cutting wind at Mike Meyers Stadium for the women’s soccer team. The space is immense. The field seems impossibly wide and long and the bleachers go on forever, presumably for the Texas Relays.

Luckily, much of play landed at the northeast corner near where I huddled with my iPad. Again, the average age of the crowd was 50 years younger than me. They appeared to be having fun, no matter what happened on the field.

I left at half-time. The score: 0-0. I love the larger patterns of soccer play, but on a cold night, I lost momentum.

Yet I’ll return to all four sports. Eleven more to go.

The audience roared and roared and roared its approval of “Ragtime” on opening night.

It’s rare to hear such pure joy in an Austin theater. But what did they think of Zach’s new Topfer Theatre and its first full show?

We played One Word during intermission to find out. They betrayed a range of feelings.

Morgan Longton: Theater: Vibrant. Show: Talented.

Allison Longton: Theater: Excellent. Show: Exciting.

Jasmine Thompson: Theater: Eccentric. Show: Wonderful.

Faith Izuegbu: Theater: Structured. Show: Enlightening.

Scott Brown: Theater: Awesome. Show: Superb.

Monica Brown: Theater: Contemporary. Show: Luscious.

Jenna Gray: Theater: Modern. Show: Dated.

Leslie Siver: Theater: Impressive. Show: Upbeat.

Suzanne Kennedy: Theater: Wow! Show: Magnificent.

Burke Kennedy: Theater: Professional. Show: Impactful.

Steve Rutman: Theater: Beautiful. Show: Terrific.

Sharon Rutman: Theater: Fantastic. Show: Outstanding.

Vikram Gobole: Theater: Amazing. Show; Spectacular.

Shruti Koparkar: Theater: Classy. Show: Entertaining.

Mort Topfer: Theater: Breathtaking. Show: Overwhelming.

Bobbi Topfer: Theater: Spectacular. Show: Wonderful.

Well, the Topfers might be excused for their gushing.

For the official Statesman response to the theater and show go here.

Dawn Younger-Smith lives in a place apart.

Some spaces are reserved for her husband’s rock ’n’ roll sensibilities. Yet a dayroom deep inside a fantastical wing of the house, reputedly a former brothel, is populated with her collection of boudoir dolls. These are no children’s toys. In the 1920s, adult women carried these silky, satiny high-fashion dolls with them to parties and out on the town.

From these dolls came the memorable name of her businesses: Boudoir Queen.

“Sometimes I’d rather have a different name,” Younger-Smith sighs. “But people keep saying: ‘Keep the name.’ So I do.”

The former artist’s model, who retains a striking presence at age 48, moved from designing makeup to putting together apparel a dozen years ago. A recent collection was the buzz of the 2012 Austin Fashion Week in August.

Runway models stalked the Driskill Hotel in vintage-inspired designs fashioned around the theme of Tennessee Williams’ Southern Gothic movie “Baby Doll.”

“I study fashion history and old Hollywood,” she says. “I’ve watched a lot of old movies.”

No doubt she has. These days, her clothes — often constructed from vintage fabric — exude the glamour of eras past.

Customers of her online business — www.theboudoirqueen.com — don’t seem to mind. Creative, independent women such as Patti Griffin, Shawn Colvin, Emmylou Harris and Courtney Love snap up her modern takes on old looks.

(Note: Love settled Younger-Smith’s defamation suit against her. The designer wants to put that chapter behind her.)

I met Younger-Smith, sometimes known as Dawn Simorangkir, in an odd way. I sat next to her mother, Betty Baldwin Wetteroth, during Fashion Week. I thought: Oh, how sweet, a supportive mother.

In fact, Wetteroth appeared as blown away as everyone else by Younger-Smith’s sexy, inventive designs, unfurled to steamy movie music.

Born an only child in Bakersfield, Calif., Younger-Smith lost her father to a car accident when she was only 13 months old.

Hyperactive, she competed at gymnastics. She was doing well in school until transferring to an exclusive private school at age 12.

“I didn’t like my leaving friends,” she says. “And it really was a difficult school. I never loved going to school that much.”

As a teen, she rebelled by dressing up and shopping for antique clothing. She dyed and ratted out her naturally bright red hair and hung out with musicians.

“I discovered boys during this period,” she deadpans. “That’s when it all went awry.”

Now the mother of an adult son from a previous marriage, she’s selective about retelling some of those youthful misadventures.

She became a makeup artist at a time when few people branded their own designs. Naturally, she packed up and moved from Bakersfield to Beverly Hills.

Living in a tiny apartment, she held down a job at Georgette Klinger on Rodeo Drive, where she made up celebrities, wealthy clients and wannabes. She later worked for the Bruno and Soonie Salon and Casandre 2000 and started a series of her own fashion businesses.

“I was wearing a purple crushed velvet dress,” she recalls, almost shyly. “He was wearing tight red pants and a white shirt with red polka dots. He started spinning and twirling. I’m thinking to myself: ‘I am not a dancer.’ Then the song stopped, thank God.”

During her 20s, she shucked the punky look and started dressing like a model: very short hair, often very dark. Tight dresses. Heavy makeup. Think Edie Sedgwick, one of Andy Warhol’s ill-fated muses.

“I was trying to grow up,” she says.

Then she met her own Warhol, photographer Steven Arnold. A protégé of Salvador Daí, Arnold used all sorts of media to stage bizarre and sometimes erotic scenes. She tagged along to one of Arnold’s parties.

“Angela Bowie was in a tent dancing a dance of the scarves,” she says. “Nude guys in gold were serving food. It was flamboyant, but very elegant at the same time. I’d never seen anything like that. I’m just a girl from Bakersfield.”

Some of Arnold’s images pop up in a startling manner at the Smithville house.

She continued to design makeup while modeling for magazines. Then she concentrated on collecting decor, clothing, textiles from the Victorian, Edwardian and Jazz ages. She made purses with some of her boudoir-doll heads, then summoned up elaborate visions of metallic lace that became immediate hits.

Younger-Smith first met her husband in 1989 on a blind date when he was playing with Billy Idol.

“He doesn’t remember me,” she thrusts.

Ten years later, the Austin-based guitarist was in Los Angeles cutting a record. At the Sunset Marquee, he hung out with Brad Pitt and Billy Bob Thornton. Women lined up to beg for their autographs, but the designer flounced up to Younger-Smith, saying: “Are you Mark?”

Though he didn’t recognize her right away, they’ve been together ever since, finally marrying in 2007.

Meanwhile, the designer put all her energy into repurposing vintage materials. She jumped on this periodic trend early in the cycle, landing her clothes in Vogue, Italian Vogue and other defining publications.

Former intern Shannon LaRotta, who trained at the University of Texas, does most of the construction.

“She gets my crazy brain,” Younger-Smith says. “I do not sew. I think everything through in my head. Then I gather everything and lay it all out. She sews it. She’s been with me for so long, she knows what I like.”

They start with piles of old, falling-apart dresses, cut them up and then whip up something entirely new. Ten years after she began the process in earnest, other designers are using similar methods to rethink vintage.

“If everybody is doing it, I don’t want to,” she says. “It has to be fun for me. It has to be interesting. I don’t really need to do it. It has to be stimulating.”

Photos by Christina Burke

Sunshine sparkled through the three revived fountains. A forgiving wind blew through the jagged overhangs that define the octagonal structure that sits behind a kidney-shaped pond.

Lovers of the Fannie Davis Gazebo couldn’t have picked a better day to rededicate the 1970 edifice, the first structure built on Lady Bird Lake after the Longhorn Dam was completed.

On Oct. 27, the original builders — and those who protected it through the years — gathered just south of the pool to recount the story of the modernist gazebo, which on several occasions faced removal or radical redesign.

Every time, the mighty force that conceived and built it — the Austin chapter of Women in Construction — intervened.

You don’t want to mess with this group.

“We came out of the woodwork and raised our voices,” said Pat Turner, longtime gazebo watchdog after a recent effort to cover the pond and repurpose the gazebo. “You are not going to alter the integrity of this structure.”

Along with Turner, among those present for the ceremony were Lori Nill, who was chapter president at the time it was constructed and whose husband, architect John Sterry Nill, designed it; Ken Wendler of Anken Construction who oversaw the building of the gazebo, and Doris Ahr, an electrical contractor and early member of the women’s group. (Lori Nill, Wendler and Ahr are pictured.)

Some readers might ask: Where exactly on Lady Bird Lake is this gazebo?

People driving across the nearby First Street Drake Bridge often miss it altogether. Joggers, boaters and festival-goers at Auditorium Shores might notice the space-age tower without having a clue about its origin or uses.

Built for $6,000 with a lot of contributed labor and materials, it is sometimes compared to a spaceship. Or a lady’s Sunday hat — designed by a surrealist. Or maybe a giant, overturned morning glory.

Clearly, the cousin of this concrete shell gazebo, more complex and uplifting on the inside than on the outside, is the inverted lotus located at a motel on U.S. 290 near Interstate 35.

It echoes not only the original Palmer Auditorium — now the Long Center — but also the large domes, organic and wave-shapes of Southern California’s Googie-style architecture, observes parks cultural specialist Kim McKnight.

Although Lady Bird Johnson endorsed the project, she was not involved in the design, fund-raising or planning, say those who witnessed the campaign to build it.

Along with Johnson, legendary parks leader Beverly Sheffield enthusiastically backed the gazebo from its inception in 1965 as the centerpiece of the evolving hike and bike trail around the lake.

During the original dedication, a posterity box was placed behind a granite marker. When it is opened as scheduled in 2070, Austinites who are presumably kids today will find a Barbie doll, a Kennedy half dollar and a list of all the first contributors.

Like any other structure open to the elements, the gazebo has required periodic maintenance.

Former Mayor Carole Keeton Rylander helped spearhead the efforts and she returned to the scene for the rededication ceremony last week.

In 1990, the group needed more money for repairs, so they set up the first Gazebo Run, which raised cash for the next few years.

In 1992, an acrylic bubble was added to the top to keep rain off the structural beams which were beginning to deteriorate.

In 1995, for the gazebo’s 25th anniversary, the women funded and built today’s handicap-accessible ramp.

At the ceremony, Wendler, who oversaw the construction 42 years ago, made an easily missed connection: Beautification projects like this bring people to the trail for exercise which in turn improves their health.

“If I hadn’t been walking and jogging all these years, I wouldn’t be alive,” he said.

Given its prominent placement, the difficulties the backers encountered just keeping the gazebo upright and in shape seem a bit surprising.

“It feels like I’ve been carrying the torch forever,” Turner says. “We want to make it to 50 years so hopefully the historical folks will pick up the torch, too. It’s an Austin icon.”

One and only one event defines Austin this November: Formula One.

Not that Austin ever needs one. Street rambles, arena concerts, private affairs and club extravaganzas all figure into the city’s newest and shiniest cosmopolitan attraction.

A festival true to Austin’s roots returns to the social calendar this month. The music-mad Fun Fun Fun Fest (Nov. 2-4, Auditorium Shores) keeps getting better. Good news: Selective irrigation has brought back the turf on the main field. Remember the dust at the Austin Food and Wine Festival?

Although the gala heat dissipates in November, there are still plenty of reasons to dress up. One of our new faves: Black and White Gala for Boys & Girls Clubs of Greater Austin (Nov. 2, AT&T Executive Education and Conference Center).

Also fairly dressy are the Lone Stars and Angels party benefiting St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital (Nov. 8, Bullock Texas State History Museum) and Putting on the Ritz for Austin Children’s Shelter (Nov. 3, Hilton Austin).

Hungry? Sample Signature Chefs Auction for March of Dimes (Nov. 1, Austin Music Hall). At the chefs’ party, headed up by David Bull of Congress, you can bid on elaborate private dinners especially prepared for your chosen guests.

Thirsty? Try Big Reds and Bubbles for Wine and Food Foundation of Texas (Nov. 8, Driskill Hotel). Or try something new at the Whiskies of the World Expo (Nov. 2, Hyatt Regency).

The heady symphony, choral and ballet seasons are already under way. The opera portion of the high-arts series opens with Austin Lyric Opera’s “Pagliacci” (Nov. 10-18, Long Center).

Representing the region’s many pet charities this month, Barkanalia favors PAWS Shelter and Humane Society (Nov. 8, Camp Lucy).

Youngish donors get to bid on valued items — including one another as potential dates — at Citizen Generation’s CharityBash Live Auction (Nov. 9, Ballet Austin’s Butler Dance Education Center).

Give a hand to students in need via Help Clifford Help Kids for Austin YouthWorks (Nov. 8, ACL Live), named for the beloved late music promoter Clifford Antone.

Nature lovers will love Hill Country Nights for Hill Country Conservancy (Nov. 10, Texas Disposal Systems Exotic Game Ranch). Keep Austin Beautiful plans an informal but lively Benefit Night (Nov. 13, Roll On Sushi).

First Tee of Greater Austin stages its matched More than a Party (Nov. 11, private home) and More than a Game celebrity golf tournament (Nov. 12, Barton Creek Resort & Spa).

Though the emergent holiday season will present endless chances to shop, none tops the Junior League’s charitable market — A Christmas Affair (Nov. 14-18, Palmer Events Center) for staying and giving power.

A recent column about three virtually forgotten Confederate forts in Austin ignited the imagination of readers.

Some had actually spent time inside the ruins of former Fort Magruder at South Congress Avenue and Ben White Boulevard. Charles Dahlstrom, 86, of Fredericksburg grew up nearby and recalls playing among the earthworks.

Mae Dell Griffith’s memories of Fort Magruder are not so fond. In 1947, her family of seven were forced to leave their home in East Austin to make way for returning war veterans. Her father purchased a small unfinished house on a rural hill above the fort’s ruins.

“I was about 12 years old at that time,” she writes. “And I hated to walk down into that ‘big ditch’ as we called it to go to the small grocery store that was on South Congress.”

Two readers pointed out that there’s a similarly configured Fort Magruder, also named for Gen. John Magruder, in Williamsburg, Va.

Carol Binford reminded me that Fortview Road — which echoes the 19th-century Fortview subdivision discussed in the column — extends from near Clawson Road to the Victory Medical Center. That’s a bit of a trot from the fort’s hilltop site.

Several readers distinguished between Post Road Drive, which formed the northern boundary of the fort, and Post Road, which links Live Oak Street to South Congress Avenue in Travis Heights. Both are presumably remnants of a trail out of town.

I had mentioned in the column that no historical marker rises at the site of Fort Magruder. In fact, records show there is a state marker, but not located there. The Texas Historical Commission online atlas places it on the other side of South Congress from the fort’s location. I haven’t found it yet.

Ron Thrower provided more useful information. He sent me a precise plan of the Fort Magruder site. He also suggested that the hurried TxDot archaeological survey the 1980s — commissioned so that Ben White could be widened — didn’t dig below six feet. So underneath all the trash that accumulated in the trenches, there might still be 19th century relics, right where you order your P. Terry’s burger now.

Thrower also sent us a translation from the memoirs of Getulius Kellersberger, the Confederate fort’s engineer. It recounts how 500 slaves were conscripted in La Grange late in 1863 and then moved to Austin in bitter cold.

“Sunday night we arrived in Austin,” Kellersberger wrote. “People stared at us very curiously and our arrival caused a great deal of anxiety.”

Elizabeth Schnelle wrote to say that her husband’s great-grandfather was the engineer Kellersberger, whose name was shortened to “Julius Kellersberg” or “Kellersburg” by different historians. He also was responsible for the fortifications at Sabine Pass during the same war.

What of the city’s other two Civil War forts? Fort Colorado, located in East Austin on the road to Bastrop and Houston, poses fresh mysteries. A historical marker was placed near Webberville Road and Heflin Lane in 1936.

It turns out, however, there might have been two forts using that name, one near the confluence of the Colorado River and Boggy Creek, the other more northerly at the aptly named Fort Branch fed by Pecan Springs (the spring not the road), says water specialist Steve Stecher.

One Fort Colorado was also known as Coleman’s Fort — or Fort Coleman — and also Fort Houston according to reader Ralph Newlan.

“(It) consisted of two two-story blockhouses and a number of cabins enclosed within a high stockade wall,” he passes on. “It was built during the fall of 1836 by Col. Robert M. Coleman and first garrisoned by two or three companies of his ranger battalion.”

Newlan says a Southwestern Historical Quarterly article published in 1969 describes limited archaeological digs undertaken in 1965.

To confuse matters further, later maps labeled the more northerly site Fort Prairie. We’ll continue to investigate.

Let’s turn to the third Confederate fort shown on the turn-of-the-century map reproduced in the previous column: College Hill. Engineer Kellersberger mentioned that one could see the other Confederate forts from the College Hill citadel. (Try that today.)

Some readers confused this spot with the high point where the University of Texas built Old Main and, later, the UT Tower. Instead, it refers to the slot on Edwin Waller’s 1839 city plan reserved for a future college.

That plan put it approximately at West 15th Street and West Avenue, familiar as the site of the Caswell House. Anyone who has stood on that ridge high above Shoal Creek can confirm the logic of that location, but mostly for defense against raiding Comanches from the west. Indeed, just up Shoal Creek near the St. Andrew’s School campus, an Indian skirmish took place.

Readers have promised to keep a sharp eye out for remains at College Hill, but I’ve discovered nothing more at the site.

Sel Graham urged me to write more about U.S. Army encampments during Reconstruction.

“The Sixth U.S. Cavalry Regiment was located at what is now Austin High School,” Graham writes. “(It) was one of the regiments of Major Gen. George Armstrong Custer’s Cavalry Division, which was the Army of Occupation of Central Texas in 1865 after the Civil War ended.”

Graham reminded us that Custer kept his headquarters in the Old Blind Asylum, a handsome building that is now the UT Arno Nowotny Building at the southwest corner of Interstate 35 and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard near the Erwin Center.

“General Custer and his wife Libby enjoyed picnics on the summit of Mount Bonnell,” Graham continues. “They would take the Sixth Cavalry Band to the summit since the music, especially the Anvil Chorus, echoed so grandly among the peaks.”

Reader Bob Cavendish added that the Confederates built an armory on Waller Creek near the original Palm School building which now houses government offices. This factory complemented the war materials plant that used slave labor at Anderson Mill.

“The Confederacy never took off as an industrial power,” Cavendish wrote. “While this enterprise did not produce a significant level of artillery, it did serve as a repair and fabrication point for farm implements in central Texas.”

Event developer Matt Swinney had no intention of promoting modernism.

Yet all of a sudden, the founder of Austin Fashion Week, Austin Restaurant Week and Launch787 is among the nation’s most prolific pushers of the clean-lined building style.

“The biggest surprise is that we can do it,” Swinney, 37, says. “The reality is that our timing is good. Modern architecture is back in the forefront of popular imagination.”

Trim and subtly stylish, Swinney comes from a split home in more ways than one. His father, showman Mike Swinney, runs London-based Hyper Entertainment, which promotes site-based entertainment projects. His mother, Diane Mathews Swinney, is a CPA.

“She’s the rooted, grounded type,” her son says. “She’s the one who picked a stable career.”

Swinney’s sister went the stable route, too, becoming a nurse. “The apple didn’t fall far from either tree,” Swinney jokes.

Athletic but introverted, he, too, played things safe before heading to Trinity University in San Antonio.

“I didn’t become comfortable in my own skin until college,” he says. “The words ‘risk averse’ were deleted from my vocabulary. I became more like my dad.”

After college, he head to the Bay Area to work for start-up software company. In 2000, he married his high school sweetheart, now Kara Tingley Swinney, a pediatric physical therapist. They have two young children.

After the tech bubble burst, the future promoter caught the media bug working on his father-in-law’s real estate magazine. After selling his stake, Swinney started Rare magazine in 2005. Comparisons to the oblong-shaped Tribiza were inevitable.

“If I had to do it all over again I’d changed the shape,” he says. “We chose the shape because it was cost effective, not because we wanted to compete directly with Tribeza. We wanted a younger, more downtown magazine. Tribeza felt very West Austin then.”

Rare was a hit with the fast urban set, but it was tough finding advertisers geared to that tribe. After the economy tanked in 2008, he sold Rare to his then-business partner, Taylor Perkins, along with another of his creations, Restaurant Week, which promoted local eateries during a slow time of year through low-cost prix fixe menus. A few proceeds went to a nonprofit.

Swinney’s next business, events developer Launch787, was immediately confused with Do512.

“They list events,” Swinney gasps at the old confusion. “We do events!”

Nothing he had promoted would compare to the scale of Austin Fashion Week, set in motion during July 2009. The first long week was packed with events, including runway shows, leading up the Austin Fashion Awards, which improved vastly as it moved from the Long Center to ACL Live then to the Austin Music Hall over the years.

Along the way, his team collaborated with modeling agent Justin Brown, jewelry maker Kendra Scott, salon owner Allen Ruiz and radio personality J.B. Hager, as well as with major national designers and photographers.

Early on, Fashion Week appeared to compete with Tribeza’s Style Week.

“They were none too happy,” he says of Tribeza’s owners. “But it wasn’t intentional. I think what (they) have done is great. There’s a lot to go around.”

Swinney kicked off his event in August — against virtually no competition on the social scene — but he’s moving Fashion Week to May in 2013.

“We always planned on making a profit in Year 5,” he says “It’s getting there. It made a couple of nickels that we could rub together this year. I think it makes other people money. It has helped establish fashion as a realistic industry in Austin.”

The Austin Modern Home Tour came next in January 2010. He partnered with real estate broker Krisstina Wise of the Good Life Team and Ingrid Spencer, former managing editor of Architectural Record.

“Ingrid brought the houses in,” Swinney says. “Architects trusted her. And it became easier when we showed them that we weren’t going to destroy their houses.”

Austin already hosted multiple home tours. Yet there seemed to be a hunger for more.

“They’ll tell you that they want to get ideas for their own houses,” Swinney says. “At the end of the day, people love poking their noses in other people’s houses. I’m the same way. People want to know how the other half — any other half — lives.”

In June 2011, Swinney expanded the modern tour first to Houston. He doesn’t bother with insider distinctions between modern, contemporary and mixed-traditional styles.

“I’m not a purist,” he says. “It’s not a museum tour. Still a way to allow the general public to see incredibly beautiful works of art and inside the brains of people who create it.”

At some point, one must press “pause.”

Georgia Johnson and Etta Ferguson attend Harlem Nights for Links at Renaissance Austin Hotel

These days in Austin, fall and spring ripple with social events.

Brenda Kennedy and Sarah Lee attend Harlem Nights for Links at Renaissance Austin Hotel

There’s just not enough time.

Bernadette Phifer and Margery Tillie Mackey attend Harlem Nights for Links at Renaissance Austin Hotel

We’ve never tried to make them all.

Sarah Strickin and Jerry Kuhlman attend President’s Council Dinner for Austin Lyric Opera at a Toro Canyon home

Yet it would be a shame to miss some of the more interesting ones.

Garnett Bruce and Danielle Pastin attend President’s Council Dinner for Austin Lyric Opera at a Toro Canyon home

The ones where we chat with people who offer insights into our great city.

Rose Betty Williams and Wendi Kushner attend President’s Council Dinner for Austin Lyric Opera at a Toro Canyon home

But then when do we scratch out time to write about them?

Tom and Erika Hibler attend Starting Grid Luncheon for Formula One at Hilton Austin

Take this week for example.

Susan Combs and Scott Joslove attend Starting Grid Luncheon for Formula One at Hilton Austin

My days were spent interviewing fascinating folks and writing longer stories.

Brian LaBorde and Kenneth Williams attend Starting Grid Luncheon for Formula One at Hilton Austin

My nights were devoted to seeking out new people at parties.

Robert Ridgeway and Stephanie Falcon attend Black and White Gala for Boys and Girls Clubs at AT&T Center

Here it’s Sunday already and I haven’t recorded a slew of affairs that occurred as long ago as Oct. 27.

Mary Lou and Carlos Ancira attend Black and White Gala for Boys and Girls Clubs at AT&T Center

So we must pause. Catch up. Breathe.

Sam Schumann and Lauren Huffman attend Black and White Gala for Boys and Girls Clubs at AT&T Center

Tonight we host six friends for a Hill Country-themed Wren Cottage Feast.

Debra and Bryon Isaacs attend Black and White Gala for Boys and Girls Clubs at AT&T Center

The whole day will be devoted to cleaning, cooking, eating, drinking and chatting.

RJ and Aurora Nagel attend Austin Children’s Shelter Gala at Hilton Austin

That’s a perfect way for a social columnist to press “pause.”

Mike Sherman and Jennifer Way attend Austin Children’s Shelter Gala at Hilton Austin

A late toast to bar owner Bridget Dunlap and her new husband Chris Parker.

Will Hardeman and Anna Anami

The pre-wedding party at Lustre Pearl was a blast. The best of everything to the two of you.

Planners expect more than 300,000 people to congregate downtown during the United States Grand Prix less than two weeks from now.

Meanwhile, more than 100,000 are expected to watch the races at the Circuit of the Americas — if they can get to Elroy.

We expect to spot a few celebrities, but, as usual, we are inherently interested in the locals and visitors whose kissers will never be splashed across a tabloid magazine cover.

So what will happen downtown? Expect a modified version of South by Southwest.

Action will center on the Austin Fan Fest in the Warehouse and Second Street districts as well as the COTA Club party at the Austin Convention Center.

Aside from those big official events, celebrants will circulate among parties, clubs and lounges, some of them tailor-made VIP affairs for the race.

For instance, Ballet Austin’s studios will be outfitted for My Yacht, a Monaco-based salute to posh shipping organized by Hungarian Olympic bobsledder Nicholas Frankl. Presumably no one will arrive by boat or by bobsled.

At the W Austin Hotel, an international array of DJs will power Blue at the W Nightclub, which will also host the Full Tilt Fashion show with brunch on Nov. 16.

At the Four Seasons Hotel, it will be Gold at the Four featuring top chefs for rotating meals. Combined, the two power-luxury hotels will host 18 race-related events.

Keeping with the color coding, Parkside will create a pop-up supper club called the Sapphire Room at its East Sixth Street location.

And speaking of pop-ups, something called Lounge 88 opens that weekend at an undisclosed location. (One must reserve a spot to find the spot.)

A bit of Britishness lands here on Nov. 16 as Sir Peter Westmacott, the British ambassador, and Lady Westmacott, host a celebration of the UK’s designs, brands and innovations at 416 W. Cesar Chavez St.

Before all this begins on Thursday, Nov. 15, South by Southwest Film Festival and Circuit of the Americas will help launch the race with a Formula One documentary at the Paramount Theatre.

The same night, ACL Live will present the Best of Texas Music with Willie Nelson, Ray Benson, Ruthie Foster and a host of others. Expect more action there on the edge of the Fan Fest zone.

Much ink has been spilled about the Europeans, Latin Americans and others who are expected to alter the character of Austin’s nightlife for that weekend.

My guess is that the vast majority of revelers will be from this country, many of them from this state and a good number from this city. Austinites rarely pass up a party.

If the weather holds up, it should be quite a shindig. Novembers usually stay mild here, but there’s always the outside chance of a windy norther.

“Was it really possible that Grace Jones was showing and selling haute couture out of a rock bunker in the middle of nowhere? A rock bunker with its own landing strip?”

But she did. From 1962 to 2000, Grace Rosansky Jones, who grew up in Smithville, welcomed the world’s celebrities as well as top apparel designers to the little tourist town 45 minutes north of Austin. She threw epic parties, staged runway shows and sold the latest one-of-a-kind selections from Geoffrey Beene, Bill Blass, Christian LaCroix and Jean Louis.

Her clients, who often became her friends, included Hollywood royalty like Loretta Young and Gene Tierney. Top Texas socialites, who otherwise shopped only at Neiman Marcus when they stayed in-state, flew or took the helicopter she and her husband, World War II ace pilot Jack Jones, thought was crucial for the business.

Jane Sibley of Austin and Carolyn Farb of Houston were among her devoted clients. Lady Bird Johnson, Ann Richards and, especially, Liz Carpenter looked to Jones for stylish guidance.

But how? How did she do it?

Quadlander, who teaches fashion and sold one of her first collections to Jones, attempts to answer.

A tomboy and a beauty with erratic taste in boys and men, Grace Jones joined the WASP during World War II to ferry planes from base to base.

After the war, she took up modeling before marrying her second husband, who came from wealthy but not abundantly wealthy South Carolina stock. That would become a nagging issue since his wife was free and easy with money, not only flying to New York or Paris on a monthly basis, but building a handsome O’Neil Ford home in Salado.

The anecdotes told across generations about the saleswoman’s family are not always pretty: Lots of drinking, some philandering and outrageous attempts to swindle — or at least sidestep the truth. The worst gambit involved Grace forging her mother’s will to cut out her supposedly beloved brother and surviving nephew. She was caught and the document was thrown out.

Yet few things stood in Jones’ way, including the husbands who left her. Using a cultured Southern accent — we know this because Quadlander reproduces her dialect, perhaps too often — she simply flirted, bossed and willed her way into people’s lives and pocketbooks.

No doubt, she was a fascinating woman who also aided Central Texas charities with benefit fashion shows. Yet how, exactly, she convinced women who could drop several thousands dollars on an outfit to drop by sleepy Salado is still something of a mystery by the end of this biography.

One wishes that Quadlander had more room to give justice to the scores of black-and-white images reproduced in this narrow book. Also, she could have used a much stronger editing hand.

Still, her story, witnessed up close and through numerous interviews, is well worth retelling.

Jones, who died in 2008, was one of those Texans, beloved by Hollywood, who lived large enough to fill the biggest screen.

Michael Feinstein is obsessed.

At least the cabaret singer’s paired manias — composer George Gershwin and lyricist Ira Gershwin — are worthwhile.

This compulsion to collect comes in handy for Feinstein’s “The Gershwins and Me.”His personal history, built around 12 classic Gershwin songs, is adoringly decorated with copious visual material, much of it from Feinstein’s personal cache.

In fact, one could argue that the superabundance of Gershwin images doesn’t always enlarge the story he tries to tell. A few of those pictures — especially those of the author with random musical celebrities — could have been replaced by a useful index.

Feinstein’s special tie to the subject matter comes from the six years he spent as a young man working for and befriending Ira Gershwin and his emotionally erratic wife, Lee.

Footloose in Los Angeles, he was hired in 1977 to organize and catalogue the Gershwins’ record collection. He eventually charmed the couple with his knowledge and devotion. During his six-year stay, he also befriended their next-door neighbor, singer Rosemary Clooney. Feinstein and Clooney later sang together frequently.

Taking up one song per chapter — he recorded them for the inevitable CD that comes with the book — Feinstein recounts the history of the Broadway shows that spawned them, surveys various interpretations over the years and delves into the biographical contexts, not only of the brothers at the time of composition, but also of Feinstein’s later experiences with the music.

The “Me” of the title is not beside the point. In fact, a photo illustration of the Gershwin brothers and Feinstein reproduced on the book jacket places the author at the center of a sunburst, as if the book’s other two subjects were looking on as a boyish Feinstein tickles the ivories.

You see, Feinstein views himself as a preservationist — or perhaps revivalist — for the Great American Songbook. That might strike the casual reader as odd, since that canon of popular songs composed from the 1920s through the 1960s is never far from our ears these days.

Feinstien, however, takes his role very seriously. He carefully scans all versions of the songs for minor variations. He argues strongly for the original tempos, for instance, of selections like “I’ve Got a Crush on You” and “Embraceable You.” Yet, as he admits and the CD attests, the ballad versions work just fine for him.

He’s no purist. Rather, Feinstein wants the reader to take these ubiquitous lyrics and melodies as crucial cultural artifacts, worthy of intense research and even speculative analysis.

The 12 songs he highlights — including “Strike Up the Band,” “The Man I Love,” “S’Wonderful,” “They All Laughed,” “Love Is Here to Stay,” “I Got Rhythm” and “Someone to Watch Over Me — are aready deeply woven into our culture. They continue to appear in movies, over the radio and on the concert stage through countless renditions.

His one rescued gem here is the breezy “Who Cares” from the 1931 Pulitzer Prize-winning political musical “Of Thee I Sing.”

“It represents the heralding of a new style in music and lyric that is reflective of the era,” he writes, “as well as exhibiting a clear-eyed distillation of a beautiful economy of expression, perhaps mirroring the austerity of the times.”

His near-scholarly obsession is most compelling as he recounts the workings and reworkings of “Rhapsody in Blue,” the jazzy piece that secured George Gershwin a permanent place in the classical repertoire, and “Porgy and Bess,” the folk opera that continues to undergo radical reinterpretations, as recently as the past Broadway season.

A certain amount of celebrity gossip is expected from a book like this. Feinstein chimes in on Oscar Levant’s depression, George Gershwin’s sexuality, Lee Gershwin’s serial cruelty and Ira Gershwin’s vulnerability. His pen, however, is not dipped in poison. He forgives even if he does not forget.

In the end, Feinstein makes a reasoned case for the Gershwins’ legacy, placing particular emphasis on the composer he never personally knew.

“George’s influence was not only musical but cultural,” he writes. “He helped shape what people thought of when they thought of America.”