The Star-Crossed Life and Times of Michael “Max” Nofziger:  Part 1

By Brenda Smith

          FEBRUARY 15, 2003.  This is the first in a series of biographical vignettes as told to the author and set to appear on these web pages through April, leading up to the May 3^rd mayoral and city council elections.  Stay tuned for future weekly installments.

          “All my life, even when I was unaware of it, has been preparation for serving Austin as its mayor.”   

                                                            – Max Nofziger, January 2003 

          Unlike the traditional Texan movie hero who rides off into the west-setting sun, Michael “Max” Nofziger first rode west into Austin, Texas during a kaleidoscopic sunset on July 5, 1973.  Little did the Austin community know that Max would someday become its champion.  On that evening, Max had no inkling of it himself.

          As Max tells it, destiny was at work that day with its characteristic flair for irony.  July 5, 1973 was a day for young Max’s education in the fierce ways of greater Texas versus the relative sanctuary afforded by its almost obverse capitol city.

          After spending a couple of years traveling the country following his 1970 graduation with a degree in political science and a teaching certificate from Adrian College, a 1200-student Methodist teaching college in Adrian, Michigan, Max had just spent several months living in Houston’s Montrose area (where, interestingly, he met his still closest friend A.J. Montrose, who claims no relation to the district’s namesake).  That morning, A.J. had dropped Max off on Interstate-10 at the western edge of Houston, leaving him to hitchhike with a cardboard “L.A.” sign, and his long hair, short pants, backpack, and no hat – I say again No Hat – to protect him against the unrelenting Texas sun. Clearly, he had never spent a summer day outdoors in Texas. Today, Max shakes his head and laughs at his 1973 naiveté.

          By late that afternoon, Max had traveled a grand total of 80 miles to Columbus, Texas, a seemingly unlucky hitchhiking experience – “the worst” – in which he succeeded only at accumulating a blistering sunburn and a rash of unsettling encounters with curse-shouting, bird-flipping Texans of the crimson-necked persuasion who apparently didn’t like the look of this Midwestern 25-year-old and were eager for him to know it.  Max was eager to get the heck out of Texas.

          Near the junction of I-10 and U.S. Highway 71, no one extended Max a ride to L.A. or even to anywhere farther west on that interstate highway.  Four different drivers, however, offered him a ride to Austin.  Max was losing patience with these well-meaning, friendly folks who didn’t seem to understand that a trip through Austin was not an efficient route to Los Angeles.  Finally in the early evening, someone dropped off another hitcher at the same Columbus crossroads.  This fellow traveler, a dude named Larry, took pity on the beet-red Nofziger and convinced him to come to Austin to crash and to soothe his sun-scorched wounds by enjoying a little Austin-style R & R.

          Now thirty years later, Max recalls with trademark enthusiasm the invitation of the other hitcher as a moment when Fate took Max by the hand. The fortune-reversing moment changed the course of Nofziger’s life by delivering him to a future hometown that, though unbeknownst to Max, not only awaited him but also needed him to help steer its collective direction and protect its considerable resources.

          In 1973, Hwy. 71 entered Austin via Riverside Drive, at the time a two-lane country road which had not yet been developed as an apartment complex alley for UT students and other young adults.

          Max’s first full view of Austin from the Montopolis neighborhood hillside was that of a green oasis.  The spectacular peach and turquoise sunset was interrupted only by the State Capitol, the UT tower, rolling hills, and the tops of countless native trees.  This pristine image of Austin, Texas from a time long lost now seems to be permanently imprinted at the forefront of Max Nofziger’s brain. 

And it is the memory of this unspoiled landscape, as well as the cool evening breeze against his sun-fried skin, plus the comforting camaraderie of his new traveling companion and the other Austinites he was soon to meet, that guides Max’s endeavors and viewpoints to this day.  Hokey, one might say, but hold on a minute

          Max earnestly wants to revitalize Austin’s magic, not in a hippie-dippy, pie-in-the-sky, get-back-to-the-Sixties, take-me-home-to-the-Armadillo sort of way, but in the manner of a seasoned fifty-five-year-old practical and experienced City leader.

          We Austinites generally consider ourselves too sophisticated to allow a public servant to rest on his laurels.  But supporting those who lay their necks on the line for Austin’s people and resources time and again certainly befits our style.  As a City Councilman for nine years, Max Nofziger helped to enact legal protection for Barton Springs through the SOS ordinance, while simultaneously working to stimulate economic growth and pull Austin out of its late-80s recession.  He pushed for establishing more hike and bike trails, building the Austin Convention Center, moving the airport, boosting the Austin music scene, and much more that Austin holds dear.  In Max’s opinion, his is a track record worthy not only of Austin’s respect but also its ongoing commitment.

          Max is no dummy, nor is he a throw-back to a more genteel or drug-crazed day.  He considers himself a forward-thinking leader who bets his behind on democratic consensus-building and grassroots governance on a daily basis and has effectively done so for many, many years.  He refuses to be relegated to the venerated but forgotten past and instead asks for the chance to use his considerable knowledge and experience for the benefit of Austin’s people.

          Perhaps if those who would turn Austin into a gridlocked, smog-choked, commuter megalopolis could have seen Austin as it once was, could have ridden with Max into a thriving, green and clean, affordable city which boasted some of the country’s most tolerant, well-educated, and fun-loving citizenry, they too would understand that such a vision as a guiding force in the City’s top-elected official could only be good for Austin, especially when that vision is tempered with realism, hard work, and a proven history of making that vision tangible.

          Here in early 2003, Barton Springs may be toxically contaminated and the live music industry is floundering.  What remains of the City’s magic can be in great part attributed to Max Nofziger and others like him who have fought for its preservation for decades.  Max will not go gently into the good night but prefers instead to work toward a bright future spurring the City to do the right thing.  Austin needs him now more than ever.

          Next week, log in to read about Max’s first few days in Austin . . .

 Brenda Smith is a novelist, business writer, and bookkeeper living in South Austin with her husband Doug Goebel.  Brenda is seeking a publisher for her first novel, Something Radiates, while writing its sequel.  She’s been an Austinite since 1980, was a co-founder of both the Austin Peace and Justice Coalition and Soy Foods of Texas, and also served as General Manager of the Inter-Cooperative Council student co-ops for 14 years.  You can contact Brenda at brendasg@ev1.net.