‘Until that six months I spent talking with my father,’ said Will Hogg long afterwards, ‘I had never really known him. Now the tired old lion, ex-Governor ‘Jim’ Hogg, sensing perhaps the end of his days, had asked his son, Will Hogg, to leave his work in St. The father was a man mountain, over six feet tall and weighing in his prime nearly three hundred pounds the son was slightly smaller. They were strikingly alike in stature and depth of chest, in the tawny coloring of their hair, in their wide firm mouths, their grayish-blue eyes, ruddy complexions, and deep resonant voices. ONE day in the early part of this century two men, father and son, sat talking together on the long veranda of the historic Varner Plantation manor house, fifty miles southwest of Houston, Texas.
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