User:Dougprince

name=undefined />HOUSTON: Land of the Big RichAuthor by George Fuerman " published in 1961 by Doubleday & Company, Inc.

People make Houston life interesting like George Douglas Prince. Born in 1906 in a Texas town with the unlikely name of Waxahachie, Doug Prince has very little hair on his head, a conspicuous amount of flesh on his stomach, and a deportment consistent with seeming to be the laziest man in town. This last, after much trial and error, has been achieved by Prince with painstaking, deliberate care. He is considered in some circles to be the most worthy of all Houstonians, Glenn McCarthy notwithstanding, and some of the less ambitious citi¬zens heap on Prince the admiration and envy that is usually withheld for oilmen. It is said that Prince is the only man in town who has reached utopia, that he is the hands-down cham¬pion of easy living. Such distinctions are not easily won. Nobody, except Prince and his bankers, knows how much he is worth, but in 1950 he sold 1,725,415 hamburgers (he used to call them glamburgers), 221,985 barbecue sandwiches, 158,040 hot dogs and 107,076 ham sandwiches, plus about half a million dollars' worth of other fetching items. Same year, and in years gone by, he has spent these glamburgering profits for an eye-flinching assortment of diamonds, which are distributed about his person, for a 100-foot yacht which he speedily removed several miles from water to a four-acre tract on Houston's out¬skirts, for two big Cadillac limousines a year (with the word "Prince's" emblazoned in large metal letters on the sides of each car), and for a $7500 painting of a nude woman that hangs in his Shamrock Hotel suite. This suite, which he maintains year-round, is merely a base for occasional operations—a $3300-a-year base. He also owns a $70,000 home a few blocks south of the Shamrock that is very impressive inside but which for years had the most unkempt front yard in the city. One day the oper¬ator of a Houston sight-seeing service complained bitterly that somewhat his junior in age but is otherw things. At noon one day in 1950, Dorothy '. tioned in passing that it was probably very i time of year. In two hours the Princes were nicipal Airport and winging to Cuba. Prince was one of a group of Houston gen safari, as they called it, into Darkest Mexi the expedition—which included station waj jeeps, electric light plants, electric refriger finements of civilization—was to hunt bear o in the state of Coahuila. The point was, tb from a helicopter, which would seem to hi a singular disadvantage. It is Prince's custom on rainy days to pi pink champagne and ice in the back seat of suade Dorothy to be his chauffeur and ride £ illacquered splendor, sipping the champag drenched city. He does not, however, con recreation when the sun is shining. It is hi O Texan to have a television set in his car, tl had not been fulfilled through the middle one time he owned a three-year-old lion \vh consternation of neighbors, he and Doroth} took for walks. He finally gave the lion tc neighbors complained en masse about the roars. As detailed elsewhere, two of the fifty-fi the Shamrock swimming pool are noticea others. One of them is rented (at $500 th( tacularly rich oilman. The other one, nal Doug Prince. Another of the Prince distinc People by Prince with painstaking, deliberate care. He is considered in some circles to be the most worthy of all Houstonians, Glenn McCarthy notwithstanding, and some of the less ambitious citi¬zens heap on Prince the admiration and envy that is usually withheld for oilmen. It is said that Prince is the only man in town who has reached Utopia, that he is the hands-down cham¬pion of easy living. Such distinctions are not easily won. Nobody, except Prince and his bankers, knows how much he is worth, but in 1950 he sold 1,725,415 hamburgers (he used to call them glamburgers), 221,985 barbecue sandwiches, 158,040 hot dogs and 107,076 ham sandwiches, plus about half a million dollars' worth of other fetching items. Same year, and in years gone by, he has spent these glamburgering profits for an eye-flinching assortment of diamonds, which are distributed about his person, for a 100-foot yacht which he speedily removed several miles from water to a four-acre tract on Houston's out¬skirts, for two big Cadillac limousines a year (with the word "Prince's" emblazoned in large metal letters on the sides of each car), and for a $7500 painting of a nude woman that hangs in his Shamrock Hotel suite. This suite, which he maintains year-round, is merely a base for occasional operations—a $3300-a-year base. He also owns a $270,000 home a few blocks south of the Shamrock that is very impressive inside but which for years had the most unkempt front yard in the city. One day the oper¬ator of a Houston sight-seeing service complained bitterly that the weedy yard was an eyesore on the sight-seeing tour, whereon Prince immediately ordered a $3500 landscaping job. It is held significant that Prince is sufficiently a celebrity that his home-announced as the "home of the Glamburger King"—is a feature of a sight-seeing tour. Prince is married to a beautiful and lively woman who is 132 somewhat his junior in age but is otherwise his equal in all things. At noon one day in 1950, Dorothy Prince merely men¬tioned in passing that it was probably very nice in Cuba at that time of year. In two hours the Princes were packed, at the Mu¬nicipal Airport and winging to Cuba. Prince was one of a group of Houston gentlemen who made a safari, as they called it, into Darkest Mexico. The purpose of the expedition—which included station wagons, special trucks, jeeps, electric light plants, electric refrigerators, and other re¬finements of civilization—was to hunt bear on the Spence Ranch in the state of Coahuila. The point was, the hunting was done from a helicopter, which would seem to have put the bears at a singular disadvantage. It is Prince's custom on rainy days to put a washtub full of pink champagne and ice in the back seat of one of his cars, per¬suade Dorothy to be his chauffeur and ride around town in Cad-illacquered splendor, sipping the champagne and viewing the drenched city. He does not, however, consider this a worthy recreation when the sun is shining. It is his aim to be the first Texan to have a television set in his car, though this ambition had not been fulfilled through the middle portion of 1951. At one tune he owned a three-year-old lion which, to the pop-eyed consternation of neighbors, he and Dorothy put on a leash and took for walks. He finally gave the lion to a circus when the neighbors complained en masse about the animal's nighttime roars. As detailed elsewhere, two of the fifty-five cabanas fringing the Shamrock swimming pool are noticeably larger than the others. One of them is rented (at $500 the season) to a spec¬tacularly rich oilman. The other one, naturally, is rented to Doug Prince. Another of the Prince distinctions was won early 133 People in 1951. At this time he bought the Houston Fat Stock Show's grand champion steer at a charity auction. For this one animal he paid $172,500, a record that not many had any ambition to try to beat. The diamonds he wears at all times are worth $130,000, and they include a twenty-two-carat diamond stickpin, a solid gold, diamond-studded key to his Shamrock suite, and a solid gold toothpick with a diamond on top. Even the numerals on the dial of his wrist watch are set in small diamonds. Such fancy living is not the kind to which Prince was always accustomed. For years he worked sixteen to eighteen hours a day at his several drive-in stands. He was forty-three in 1949, and when the Shamrock opened that year he decided to retire to the hotel until somebody opened a better one. Presumably, he will die there.