An award-winning and acclaimed writer and author, Crain was also a former music editor at the Dallas Observer and a one-time Dallas mayoral candidate.
DALLAS — Zac Crain, whose sardonic wit and acute powers of observation made him one of the great Dallas chroniclers of recent memory, was found dead in his home this week after a short bout with an undetermined illness.
He was 50 years old.
Crain spent the last two-plus decades chronicling the artists and figures who have made up the fabric of the Dallas he chose to celebrate – first as a staff writer and music editor at the Dallas Observer, then as an associate editor at American Airlines in-flight magazine American Way, and for the last 17 years as an editor at D Magazine.
An award-winning writer who was once dubbed by a judge in the annual City and Regional Magazine Association awards as a “profile master,” Crain will perhaps be best remembered for his in-depth portraits of regional giants and layfolk alike. But those who followed his work and knew him best will remember him just as much for his biting sense of humor.
Impressive as his proverbial pen was in his thoughtful profiles of celebrities such as Erykah Badu, Charley Pride and Troy Aikman, just as remarkable were his humorous back-page columns for D, in which he was given the creative freedom to “interview” a mosquito about West Nile virus, and his short blog posts for the magazine’s Frontburner blog, where (among other, more serious entries) he maintained a shockingly long-running bit in which he roasted the name of former Dallas Morning News editor Mike Wilson’s dog .
Throughout his writing career – launched after a short stint spent working as a janitor at an elementary school in his hometown of West, Texas – Crain authored three books that, combined, serve as a solid summary of his interests: 2009’s “Black Tooth Grin: The High Life, Good Times, and Tragic End of “Dimebag” Darrell Abbott” in which he charted the life of the legendary Arlington-raised Pantera guitarist; the 2020 photobook “A Pedestrian’s Recent History of Dallas” that compiled iPhone architecture photos taken during his famous walks around downtown; and 2021’s heartfelt “I See You Big German,” which found the diehard Dallas Mavericks fan reflecting on Dirk Nowitzki’s iconic career and its meaning to the city.
As an editor, he had a gentle, subtle and supportive touch – never one to impose his own aesthetic, but rather one who worked to help others cultivate theirs. He relished in using his earned experience to usher younger writers along on their own creative paths.
He could also – it has to be said – be at times impossibly curmudgeonly. But even that he developed into a skill. He turned written mockery into an art form, and his skill for it was peerless. In-person, though, he didn’t need words to make his disdain understood. Crain could elicit a laugh and paint a picture clear as day with just a simple smirk.
At the same time, however, he was also truly kind, considerate and, ultimately, optimistic – hence the mayoral run, perhaps.
In 2007, at 33 years old, he ran for mayor of Dallas – and was dubbed “The Myspace Candidate” in the national media for outwardly stating his intention to use the onetime social network giant as a means to embolden and inspire the youth vote. That plan didn’t quite work out; Crain didn’t win the office. But, as a campaign fundraiser, he curated a local music compilation album that still holds up as a pretty good listen even to this day. That he could convince so many talented area musicians to willingly donate their art to his cause after having made a name for himself at the Observer for unrelentingly lambasting area bands in a column called “Sack of Kittens” says a lot about the charming dualities of Crain.
In D Magazine’s compilation obituaries penned by Crain’s former colleagues, D editor Tim Rogers called his longtime friend “a wildly gifted writer with impeccable taste in music and movies, a history of romantic involvements as colorful as his sneaker collection, and shockingly troublesome teeth for a man who looked as good as he did in a tight t-shirt.”
He is survived by a son, Isaac, of whom he was boundlessly proud, and a generation of Dallas journalists whose own careers were shaped by the hope of emulating his even just a little bit.
Details regarding a celebration of Crain’s life are expected to be announced in the coming days.