In "And Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest," the essay which opens this compelling collection, Jerry Flemmons displays an uncommon sense of both history and fun. When it was announced that angels would adorn the facade of the magnificent hall to be built in Fort Worth for the performing arts, the columnist, intrigued by the incongruity of angels in Cowtown, demanded, "Where in the hell did those angels come from?" He finally solved the dilemma by deciding they were the fallen angels of Hell's Half Acre, "Irish Kate. . . on the right, and Big Birdie . . . on the left."
With strong...