With San Antonio’s continued growth, it’s easy to focus on a #CityOnTheRise. But before the tech moment and the recent culinary boom, others had to lay the foundation for the River City’s upward trajectory. As such, we’re looking at uncompromising, relentless pioneers new and old who’ve made (and continue to make) San Anto great. From solar explorers to our first and second female mayors, we celebrate these San Antonio badasses.

June 13, 2015, was a proud day for Lila Cockrell.

It wasn’t for anything that she had personally accomplished, necessarily. Like the rest of us, Cockrell, 94, sat on the sidelines that day, watching Mayor Ivy Taylor and former State Sen. Leticia Van de Putte vie for the top political spot in San Antonio. But as the city’s first female mayor, she couldn’t help but be pleased by seeing two women in the final sprint for the office she formerly held.

“I remember a little book I had as a young girl that someone gave me. It was a book about what people could do — young boys and girls. It showed boys could be police officers or firefighters or doctors or lawyers or all kinds of things. And girls could be teachers and nurses and brides. So the doors of opportunity have gradually been opened,” Cockrell said.

But they didn’t come ajar on their own — and to assume so belies Cockrell’s badass role in shoving them wide open for women like Taylor, Van de Putte and so many others.

Cockrell moved to San Antonio in 1956 with her husband, Sid, after living in Dallas. She was elected mayor in 1975 and served until 1981. She ran again in 1989 after the death of her husband and won another term.

She said that the contributions she’s proudest of include the restoration of the city’s parks, such as the capital campaign for the Japanese Tea Garden she helped lead. She later served as president of the SA Parks Foundation and co-chair of the River Improvement Project. Preserving the river, she recalled, was always her passion.

“I remember just being entranced with the San Antonio River. I remember saying, ‘If it’s possible to fall in love with a river, I fell in love with a river,’” she said. “So many things I love about San Antonio tie into the river. … My life has been attuned to the river.” — Michael Marks

One of the people who helped shape San Antonio more than any other did so with a smile, a bow tie and an unabashed love for the city on his sleeve.

Bill Sinkin, a banker, activist, organizer, philanthropist and, of course, badass, died in 2014 at age 100.

He grew up in San Antonio, the son of Russian immigrants. He was driven by a sense of social justice and moral rectitude that his son Lanny said was fostered in him through being bullied at a young age.

“As a young boy coming from an Old World Jewish family … other young men would beat him up and call him names. He saw that as sort of a life-shaping experience, experiencing prejudice directly. I think that always made him into a champion for anybody who was facing that oppression.”

Sinkin’s San Antonio legacy — and perhaps even the briefest list of his achievements — cannot be contained within a single article. But Lanny said three in particular stood out: spearheading Hemisfair ’68, his work with Solar San Antonio and helping to found Goodwill of San Antonio.

Hemisfair ’68, that year’s World’s Fair, is often credited with catalyzing the city’s growth. Sinkin led the charge to bring the fair to San Antonio, lobbying anyone who’d listen. That it actually happened was a “miracle,” his son said. It took hundreds of millions of dollars and the seizure of dozens of acres through eminent domain. Hemisfair Park and the Tower of the Americas serve as the most visible legacies of the fair.

Fast forward roughly 30 years, and Sinkin was knee deep in another effort that would transform the city: Solar San Antonio. The nonprofit advocacy group helped launch San Antonio’s investment in solar, and pushed CPS Energy to clean up its energy portfolio.

But beyond the big ticket items were also smaller, typically unseen and undocumented acts of grace and kindness: creating microloans for small and minority-owned businesses, sitting with a black friend at a segregated lunch counter.

“One of the qualities of San Antonio that he most appreciated was that you could bring the people together with very distinct and different viewpoints and politics and still get something done,” Sinkin said. “It was the fundamental unity in the community that was able to transcend the divisions.”

When Sinkin died, Lanny said many of the calls and letters he received praised these seemingly small deeds, and his willingness to stand on principle regardless of consequence.

“He loved people. He would just get involved in everybody’s life, in his way. He helped a ton of people,” Lanny said. “He was someone who was always willing to say what needed to be said, and usually did so in a way that people could hear. Which is sort of a remarkable talent.” — Michael Marks

“She’s still quite the social butterfly,” opined Pat Mozersky.

Mozersky is past president of Les Dames d’Escoffier International, an organization of women in the culinary arts, of which catering queen Rosemary Kowalski is a founding member and recently was proclaimed Grande Dame. Some might consider her rise to international fame from the beer and barbecue joint she and her husband opened on North Zarzamora in 1946 to be nothing short of astonishing.

But for Kowalski it seems that serving the likes of Queen Elizabeth II and Pope John Paul II has all been just part of a day’s work. Given that the RK Group she founded now comprises 28 separate businesses run by her son, Greg — in cities from San Antonio to Phoenix, nobody would ever guess that there was a time when she didn’t even know what the term catering meant.

Everybody, however, seems to have a kind or origin story, a tale that evokes that first meeting with a woman who, even in an alleged retirement that involves longer hours than many younger workers, still functions as the city’s unofficial (but widely revered) culinary queen.

Blanca Aldaco, current president of Les Dames, recalls a time early in the days of her Sunset Station operation, Aldaco’s.

“We were located close to the RK Group’s headquarters, and I always felt like a kid looking in a window to see how they did business. One time,” she says, “we were doing a big debutante party at Sunset Station, not really knowing what we had gotten ourselves into, and without telling me she sent me her best man at Illusions [the equipment rental arm of the RK Group]. He was like an angel at my side, making all the decisions. I have never forgotten that.”

Di-Anna Arias, who has worked with Don Strange, San Antonio’s other legacy caterer, for 30 years, recalls the days when she used to bid against Kowalski for events in a kind of friendly rivalry.

“But when I became a Dame, we began to work on charity functions together. We had so much in common, we would travel [even to Hawaii] together, we would talk for hours.”

Through Les Dames, they have collaborated eight years on a recurring event for Roy Maas Youth Alternatives. “We [along with Earl Abel’s] do the food, she does all the dishes, glassware …” And she says, “I learned one important thing from her that I do to this day: always write thank you notes.”

Dear Rosemary: For all you have done and will continue to do, consider this a long-overdue thank you note. — Ron Bechtol

I met Arthur “Happy” Veltman in 1971 while I was a waiter at the Kangaroo Court restaurant. We became friends and I started to understand things about the gay world that I was not getting as an art student at Trinity University. In 1973, Hap asked me to be the owner and manager of a gay disco he wanted to open. That is the beginning of how Hap and I, and many Texans who frequented the San Antonio Country, started our path to gay liberation.

But being gay was not what made Hap well-liked with those in the San Antonio business community, the art community, with Downtown development, the Conservation Society, or as a successful restaurant owner and partner in real estate ventures. Nope, everyone will tell you that Hap played well with others. And more important, he brought these concerns together with the people he enjoyed and showed how they could work together for a better and profitable future. And he did this before others understood its importance.

Hap still lives in the minds and hearts of those who knew him and this is why Hap was a very, very proud gay man. Hap had genuine concern for the mistreatment of others, and it’s why he wanted to have a really swell place for the gay and lesbian community to hang out. The San Antonio Country was the hottest and best gay club in Texas until 1981 when he sold it to start the Bonham Exchange. The Bonham is now owned by Hap’s longtime partner Kenneth Garrett. Hap died from AIDS in 1988. 

Hap’s name is associated with buildings on the River Walk that he, along with his various partners – straight business partners – purchased, developed and managed. And, of course, with Bernard Lifshutz, Hap purchased the Blue Star property, which helped turn that part of the river and surrounding area into the popular area we now see.

But let me talk about the HAPPY Foundation here, since I am the Archives Director. It began in 1988 and was a request by Happy in his will. The HAPPY Foundation is a GayBLT history archives and came about as we realized that our history was not being saved.

Hap became the lighthouse for those who lived in the closet or had few resources. In their own words, here’s how others remember him:

“Hap Veltman was on the Board of Directors — and was one of the most active and involved members of the SAGA Board. … He helped guide the evolution of the city’s gay community in achieving visibility and respectability. His guidance, and his connections, were helpful in the early days of AIDS.” — Toby Johnson, co-chair of the San Antonio Gay Alliance

“Hap had a vision to revitalize our beautiful Downtown. … I loved his ideas and was totally enamored with his vision and his upbeat attitude. I truly believe he had the insight and the vision way before any city planners really understood what he foresaw.” — Debra Maltz, who started Centro Properties with Hap

 

“Hap was a visionary. … He was respected in business circles even though he was out at a time when being gay was a mark against you. The Bonham Exchange … was not only the new benchmark for any other club in town, gay or straight, it was an example of clever re-use and restoration of one of the finest buildings in town. It was an honor to know him.” — Chris Hill

“Hap was important in the recognition of San Antonio artists. … He invited the dance companies I brought to San Antonio to enjoy the fun at the Bonham after the performance and this made their visit memorable.” — Margaret King Stanley, director for the San Antonio Performing Arts Association

“Hap and I bonded over historic buildings. The San Antonio Country was in full swing … when Hap asked me to help with its historic designation. The rambling stone structure was indeed historic, but Hap sold it and never looked back, moving on to the venerable Turnverein that he re-visioned as the Bonham Exchange. … His preservation legacy lives on in historic buildings he helped save.”
— Maria Pfieffer

Each generation in San Antonio produces creative, forward-thinking visionaries. Hap was one of them.

He took his artist friends to dinner because they taught him how to think creatively and how to be a creative businessman. Those who knew Happy know this about him, but those of you who did not know Happy, this would be the lesson and his message for us: to be creative businessmen and women. Happy would also want you to know that he was an out and proud member of our gay community and he openly and joyfully joined any causes against social injustices.

Thank you for remembering Happy. He most certainly remembers all of us. — Gene Elder

It was a hard-fought battle for San Antonio mayor when retired appellate judge Phil Hardberger won the seat in June 2005 during a runoff election with rising political star Julián Castro. Hardberger, who was 70 at the time, was an outsider looking in. But when he did, he knew something had to change.

“I didn’t know anything about running a city,” Hardberger, 81, told the San Antonio Current during an interview earlier this month at his Monte Vista home. “But I felt the city needed help.”
Only about a year prior to being elected, Hardberger and his wife Linda were enjoying his retirement. He remembers sailing on the Hudson River when he received one of many phone calls from friends urging him to run for mayor.

“Being mayor was not something I had even thought about, so I resisted,” Hardberger said. “But enough people called me that it felt like I was being drafted. I also thought I could do a better job.”

Once he took his seat on the City Council, Hardberger’s first order of business was to hire a city manager who could take San Antonio to the Promised Land. He found that in Sheryl Sculley.
“I felt we really needed professional leadership in the city,” Hardberger said. “Linda said I courted Sheryl more than I did her. It was like winning a girlfriend over.”

Two months into his tenure as mayor, Hardberger’s own leadership abilities were quickly tested when Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. Although there was some pushback about welcoming tens of thousands of displaced citizens into San Antonio, Hardberger stood strong.

“They were our fellow Americans, so I really wanted to help them,” Hardberger said. “People were afraid crime was going to rise, but none of that happened. If I’m in a boat and somebody is drowning, I’m going to pull them in.”

It was during that time when Hardberger saw how much heart San Antonio possessed. During a trip to a South Side H-E-B where food donations were being made for hurricane victims, he was touched to see the number of people sacrificing for strangers.

“It wasn’t the richest part of town by a long shot and you just knew those people were taking food off their own shelves,” Hardberger said. “Seeing that gave me a lot of confidence. I was certain I could be the city’s leader.”

Over the next four years, Hardberger proved just that. From his focus on creating more public gathering spaces like new parks, the development of Main Plaza, the expansion of the River Walk and events like the Houston Street Festival, which morphed into Luminaria, Hardberger dedicated his time to serving the citizens.

No other example could better define the work Hardberger has done for the city than Haven for Hope, an organization that helps the homeless transform their lives.

“Other cities are coming to San Antonio to study how we’ve done what we’ve done with [Haven for Hope],” Hardberger said. “Yes, we wanted to give people a place to stay for the night and give them a meal, but we wanted to do a lot more than that. We wanted to give them a chance to make a better life.”

Currently, Hardberger, who left the mayor’s office in 2009 with an 86 percent approval rating, is senior counsel at Dykema, a national law firm, and the president of the Phil Hardberger Park Conservancy, which maintains his namesake space. Over the next three years, he hopes to see the final phase of the park come to fruition: A natural bridge that will link both sides of the park, which is currently split by Wurzbach Parkway.

“I want to complete that vision,” Hardberger said. “The nice thing about the park is that it appeals to everybody and it will last forever.”

Speaking on the legacy he’d like to leave behind, Hardberger wants everyone to know he didn’t accomplish anything on his own.

“I’m proud of the things we did when I was mayor,” he said. “The one thing I really learned was that a lot of people who share your dreams will help you accomplish them. I did get a lot done, but I got a lot done with the people of San Antonio.” — Kiko Martinez

Ivy Taylor surprised San Antonio.

She swore she wouldn’t run for mayor. Then she did, unapologetically. And she beat all the odds, too.

No one expected the city planner who represented the East Side District 2, who was chosen interim mayor after President Barack Obama appointed former Alamo City mayor Julián Castro to serve as the United States Secretary of Housing and Urban Development based on her promise not to seek his position, to best former State Representative Mike Villarreal during the mayoral race. No one expected her to beat out former Texas Senator and one-time candidate for Lt. Governor Leticia Van de Putte, either.

But she did, solidifying her legacy as the first African-American mayor of San Antonio, the second woman to hold the position and the only African-American female mayor of a large U.S. city.
And when she did it, there was little fanfare from Taylor. She was ready to get the work.

Looking back to comments from a June 2015 interview with Taylor about her vision going forward is telling, nearly a year later.

“It’s kind of interesting because I’m coming in, and I’ve already been here for 10 months. We already have some things we started that are underway,” she said at the time. “I’m not a typical politician who will have some signature thing that’s going to have my name on it and go down in history.”

That’s because she takes the non-partisan nature of San Antonio’s mayoral office seriously. And during her tenure, there’s been controversy, but there’s also been success. There’s been one driving factor, a genuine desire to better the city for all residents.

During her second State of the City address, Taylor had many more accomplishments to list and to further develop her vision for San Antonio, but one thing was evident: The same driving force behind her attitude after winning such a historic election had not changed.

“One of my staff recently shared the story of her late grandfather, a laborer and immigrant named Jose Aleman who worked hard to create opportunities for his children,” Taylor said during the address. “His mantra to his family was simple and powerful. ‘Hay que trabajar,’ there’s work to do, her father would say. Rain or shine, cold or heat, near or far, ‘hay que trabajar’ became the family cry. This statement truly embodies the spirit of San Antonio.”

It also sums up the spirit of San Antonio’s first African-American mayor, a badass city planner with a personal story reflected through hard work. — Mark Reagan

Down on South Alamo, in the heart of San Antonio arts culture, Mike Casey’s house — built in 1895 — stubbornly pays tribute to the past, near and distant.

Like Casey himself, the house is impeccably appointed in an easy-going and natural way, part secret garden, part art gallery, part whimsical living space — all effects of a life lived in wonder, compassion and joy.

Like one of his trademark seersucker suits (the man is a style icon), Casey’s house is handsome and impressive in a comfortable, magical and nostalgic kind of way.

When I met him there a few weeks back, the house proved the perfect place in which to reflect upon the man’s seriously important and singularly quirky contributions to SA and his lighthearted legacy of embracing art and life.

The truth is, a list of facts, though perhaps impressive, would hardly capture the mystical truth of Casey’s value as a maker of SA. Casey was a practicing attorney for many years, an experience that he described as “not unpleasant,” before bringing the conversation back to things dearer to him.

He’s served on boards with Blue Star and King William Fair, just to name a couple, and been witness to, and driver of, King William’s boom, ever since he moved into the area in 1972, “before it was cool to do so.”

He was a founding member of the King William Yacht Club, which hosts a regatta on the San Antonio River every year on the Fourth of July.

He owns the Compound, a set of duplexes on the corner of St. Mary’s and Stieren, that contain Sala Diaz Gallery, Casa Chuck Residence and Issac Maxwell Metal. It is the site of a thriving art community and has been for many years.

As a lover of and patron to the arts, Casey’s contributions and enthusiasm are unparalleled.

In speaking about the artistic presence at the Compound, Casey chuckled and said, “I guess in the hands of a better capitalist than myself … ” and trailed off, staring into the distance with a sly look.

A true San Anto original, Casey is the kind of person who seems to live his life as if it’s a work of art in itself. Taking pleasure in gardening, chicken and turkey keeping, bike riding, music, art, literature and the powerful sense of community he has lovingly created around himself, Casey is the kind of man who, full of friendly bluster and gentlemanly mischief, doesn’t back down from a dare (that’s actually how he ended up with chickens).

When I asked him how the hell he maintained such a zest for life, such avid involvements and such a convivial glow, he chuckled that he’d “never really thought about it before” and seemed almost puzzled that anyone wouldn’t be this way. After a few moments though, he offered some wisdom:

“People feel too entitled to certain conditions and expectations, that’s usually what makes them upset or bitter. You are the source of your own discontent.”

Quoting Bruce Springsteen’s 1978 song “Badlands,” he seemed to sum up his lifestyle in a kind of mantra: “It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.” — James Courtney

Is it the decades of political activism – as an abolitionist of the death penalty and one of the most vocal pro-choice country artists – that has made Military City, U.S.A. remain indifferent to one of its most acclaimed artists, Steve Earle? Perhaps it’s the years of running against the wind, railing against fascists in his marbled Southern drawl, attempting rockabilly revivals and writing off-Broadway plays and novels named after Hank Williams songs rather than settling down with a wife (or six) just outside of the city limits – maybe his former home of Schertz – that has kept us, arms folded, from embracing a son of San Antone.

Whatever the reason, one of our own is out there in the world, raking the muck, collar turned up against blistering existence, digging, scraping down into the guts of poetry and song and coming up, often, with a handful of gems. Yet, there is no mural, no official Steve Earle Day, no Plata de Esteban at Mi Tierra for the man who never skips a visit to the historic cafe whenever he plays SA, the songwriter who penned “San Antonio Girl.”

Earle, though born in Virginia, contends that as his due date approached a family member was sent to Texas with an empty can of Prince Albert tobacco to fetch some Texas soil, so that his first steps could be in the Lone Star State. The Grammy Award-winning country scribe, the Springsteen of red dirt, who attended O.G. Weiderstein Elementary, O. Henry Junior High and Holmes High School, has since sworn he will never live here again. “I need to walk out my front door and see a mixed-race, same-sex couple holding hands and not being afraid to do it to feel safe at this point in my life.” 

Although we could claim him for just a little while – Earle’s teenage years of wild troubadourism sent him to Nashville, chasing that neon rainbow, before his 20th birthday – it’d be, perhaps, a sweeter homecoming if we could draw him back into the kind of culture he has fought to achieve through his art, his work and his life. — Travis Buffkin

Even before she set one foot in San Antonio, Becky Hammon was already a badass. Standing at 5-foot-6, the woman dubbed White Chocolate by her WNBA teammates proved she belonged in the league every time she stepped on the court. Rarely regarded as the quickest guard, Hammon succeeded through her fluid game, stellar court vision and a boundless tenacity cultivated on a concrete slab in South Dakota.

Growing up in Rapid City, Hammon was introduced to hoops at a young age by her father Marty, a basketball coach. She could dribble with both hands by the age of five and started playing organized ball at around 8 years old. By the time she reached high school, Hammon’s skills allowed her to claim the team’s starting point guard spot as a sophomore.

Although the seclusion of South Dakota kept her off the radar for most college recruiters, Hammon’s game landed her a spot on the Colorado State roster. She eventually led her team to the Sweet 16 and ended her college career as the top scorer in Western Athletic Conference history.

After somehow going undrafted, Hammon joined the WNBA’s New York Liberty, soon becoming one of the faces for the growing league. Hammon steadily improved in the Big Apple, which seemed tailored to her kinetic style on the court. In New York City terms, think Kenny Anderson with a ponytail.

In 2007, Hammon arrived in San Antonio via trade where her game flourished, elevating to All-Star levels. Despite finishing second in league MVP voting that season, she was not invited to try out for 2008 U.S Olympic team. For someone who visualized Olympic glory as a child, because the NBA was unattainable, the snub stung.

Undeterred, and already playing professionally in Russia during the off-season, Hammon joined the Russian national team. She led them to a bronze medal in Beijing, fulfilling one of her hoop dreams. On a flight back from the 2012 Olympics in London, where she again represented Russia, Hammon connected with Spurs coach Gregg Popovich, another basketball lifer with an appreciation for Russian culture.

Since officially joining the Spurs in 2014, Hammon continues to make history. At All-Star Weekend in Toronto, she fittingly became the first woman to coach in an All-Star Game. As part of the NBA’s recent Lean In campaign promoting gender equality, Hammon summed up her motivation succinctly.

“Traditionally, we’ve been taught to believe that leaders are only men,” said Coach Hammon. “I think that’s why it’s important that little boys and little girls see women as strong and capable.” — M. Solis

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This article appears in Mar 30 – Apr 5, 2016.