Parts of it still are. Like Jacksboro Highway on a Saturday night.
Even as a kid I read the daily papers, and in Houston, the excitement and killings and shootings for whites seemed to be concentrated on Airline drive and Hempstead, and I couldn’t wait to go and experience the strangeness and intensity of those strips of bars and clubs, although the drinking age back then was 21, I was lucky enough to join that world at age 17.
The white hot intensity of redneck bars started dying out by the early 1970s, there was still the occasional shootings and stabbings, and beatings, but the violence of the old days that color so much of the old country western songs, disappeared long ago.
I will never forget what it was like to move to Southern California, and see people sign their name on a chalk board to politely wait their turn to challenge the guy holding the pool table, it took a long time for me to realize that it was real. Another sign of civilization in California, was going to the bathroom, and not having to look for position and weapons (like the urinal farthest from the door or the lid on the toilet tank).