In a continuation of the series that went from 1 through 10 (I -X) I'm now posting the consolidated ramblings 11 through 20 (XI - XX)
Random Ramblings from the great lockdown of 2020 Part XI – Gone but Not Forgotten.
Random Ramblings from the great lockdown of 2020 Part XI – Gone but Not Forgotten.
In reminiscing about pizza I managed to elicit a few comments
from people longing for the taste of other foods – not just a pizza from a
favorite restaurant but a product – in this case the late, lamented Fudgetown
cookies. Fudgetowns were good – very good, but they are but one of many snack
foods that have gone away, living only in the memories of now middle aged
people who try to explain in vain why a pre-made turnover type concoction, or a
particular type of processed cheese ball were important. They were- take my
word for it so tonight’s ramble I will start with the top five snack foods that
I just can’t find anymore – and not just because I’m on a different continent,
but because even when I go back to the States they have been discontinued
(shock and horror) or, even worse, replaced like a pod person with something
that purports to be the same thing but is not. People are welcome to pile on
with their own memories. (Truthfully, while some of these brands may have
expired – the actual products, if they are kept in a bomb shelter or forgotten
trunk somewhere – probably have not. One can only hope that, like the Dead Sea
scrolls, you stumble across them someday).
No. 5 – Hostess Fruit Pies – Oh, you’ll tell me that these are
still made but the ones on the shelves now are more like Hostess Fruit LIES.
The original Hostess company went bankrupt in 2012, and the brand name was
bought in order to produce the blatant counterfeit variety that now is sold to
unsuspecting buyers. But those of us who grew up on the glazed goodness of the
true Hostess pie know that these are mere shadows of the former product. I used
to skip lunch just to buy an apple, blueberry or cherry concoction (never was
crazy about the lemon and there were other flavors but I don’t remember seeing
them). When Waterford Crystal closed there were people who were determined to
keep the kiln there lit because, it was said, if it cooled it would never be
able to be re-lit in a way to produce the same product. I assume this is what
happened with the Hostess ovens – I’m afraid the original product is lost
forever…
No. 4 – Planters Cheese Balls – I know Planters was known for
peanuts but these were really good and it seems that they are no longer made.
Planter’s has done some weird shit recently. They were going to kill Mr. Peanut
during a Super Bowl commercial. Only one of the most famous brands in the
world. It’s as if McDonalds were to say “Golden arches are so passe’ – let’s go
with a mauve ziggurat”. Keep Mr. Peanut alive and bring back cheese balls.
What’s that you say? You are bringing them back. For the love of God – send some
to Ireland.
No. 3 – Fudgetown cookies - These were good – but meant more to
others than to me, though as you will see from my top ranked lost tooth
destroyer I feel the loss of a beloved cookie (biscuit) as deeply as anyone. I
link you to the video to “Funkytown” and invite all the Goldman’s to change the
words to “Fudgytown” as a remembrance. (Gotta move on).
No. 2 - Some foods still exist but seem like they don’t. They’re
hard to find or maybe just not as relevant as they used to be. For example,
when we were regularly going to the moon, Tang orange drink was all the rage,
because astronauts allegedly drank it. I liked Tang but I loved the last sip
when you got to lap up the bit of the powder that hadn’t dissolved. Like the
space program it seems Tang is still around but not really noticed that much.
Another, similar fate has befallen two other drinks that were once everywhere –
Hi-C and Hawaiian Punch. Both were non-fizzy fruit punches that because they
were non-carbonated and had an association with fruit were assumed to be good
for you. I am going to go out on a limb and venture that their nutritional
value might have been overstated – but they tasted good. Then there is the once
ubiquitous “Lifesaver” (essentially a polo mint in many, many flavors). It used
to be that each store that sold candy would have an entire rack of Lifesavers,
with about 40 different varieties. One of my favorites was Butter Rum, but I
liked the tropical fruits as well. Ostensibly these are still produced – but
I’ll be damned if I can find them, and the number of flavors must have been cut
way down.
There is one lost food of the ‘70’s that I fear I might be in
the minority in mourning. That is a peanut butter spread (reminiscent of Nutella)
called “Koogle”. Koogle was made in chocolate, banana and cinnamon flavors –
and I thought it was actually pretty good. The cinnamon was a favorite as it
seemed to go really well with raspberry jam on a sandwich. Koogle is long gone
but I remember it fondly. But not as fondly as this next entry.
No. 1 – Brown Edge Wafers – Oh Nabisco. How can you claim to be
the biscuit company for the entire nation yet discontinue making these thin
discs of pure enjoyment? Baked to perfection, great to have after you got home
from school, classy enough to serve when people came over to the house – the
Brown Edged Wafer was the epitome of simple, cookie goodness. It needed no
chips of chocolate. It required no filling that forced you to pry two of them
apart. It cried out for no figs, or jams or frosting. It was what it said it
was. A wafer. With brown edges. And you took it away. What I would give for a
box right now.
Damn you to hell National Biscuit Company.
Damn you to hell.
Random Ramblings from the great lockdown of 2020 Part XII - The
games people play.
Today's ramble is simply reflective of how much fun it will be
when we finally get a chance to get back out in the world. You know - the world
with other people and social interaction (as opposed to distancing). One of
those interactions for me is softball, not the biggest sport in Ireland, but
one with a devoted following. To assist in training new players I've started a
manual of softball basics - part of which I attach below, since the New York
Yankees have seen fit to deploy a virus which threatens to shut down all bat
and ball games throughout the world.
Seriously.
Okay - so maybe it wasn't the Yankees, but it still looks like
there may be a problem with the season this year. I'm gonna roll out the guide
in stages anyway.
Damn Yankees.
GETTING STARTED - EQUIPMENT
One of the great advantages of softball is that, unlike some
sports, the outlay required for equipment is relatively small. All you really
need is a decent glove and a pair of shoes with a relatively good tread. The
glove we’ll speak about later, but the footwear that is used for softball is
worth considering first. You’ll need to be able to take some fairly sharp turns
without having your feet go out from under you so grip is important. Football
boots or turf shoes are perfectly acceptable and will suffice.
Now that you can stand on your own two feet the next thing to
consider is the glove that you will use on your hand. A glove is a very
personal item – it should become nearly a part of your body. As a part of your
body it needs to be conditioned, exercised and fed. Gloves eat line drives, fly
balls, grounders and throws. Feed it well.
The hand on which to wear the glove is the first thing to
consider. Remember – for a beginner the initial instinct is to wear the glove
on your dominant hand – in fact the opposite is true – the glove goes on the
weaker hand – leaving you to throw with your stronger hand. So – righthanders
wear the glove on their left hand, left handers on their right.
The other instinct to be fought is to go for the largest glove
you can find. In fact, particularly for beginners, a larger glove can be harder
to control. My recommendation is to go for a mid-size glove that is well broken
in. “Breaking in” a glove means loosening the leather so that it is pliable and
closes easily around the ball. There are a number of ways to get this done – I
recommend using special glove oil or WD40 and rubbing it in to the pocket
(palm) of the glove and along the back and front of the webbing. Then flex the
glove back and forth for about five minutes before putting a softball into it
and tying it closed. Repeat that process for about a week before taking the
glove out to play – it should be well loosened up.
There are, of course, other bits of equipment that are needed. Bats, bases, pitcher’s rubbers, line markers and such. But these items are usually shared amongst the players on a team. Still – the choice of a bat is an important decision to be taken by a player and is always an individual choice. That said, I think people obsess too much over the selection of a bat. This really isn’t something to worry about to the degree that some people do. If you make a good swing and solid contact you could be hitting with a shovel handle still be successful. That said – there are a few basic things to keep in mind when choosing the right bat. Here are few things to think of:
Weight: The weight of a bat is the most important aspect for
players to consider. An ugly bat that is the weight is ten times more effective
than a shiny new one that is too heavy. This is because controlling the bat is
the key to hitting effectively. A heavy bat feels formidable but cuts down on
two key elements of hitting – timing and bat speed. For female players, particularly
those just starting out – use a 26 Oz. bat and only go up to a heavier weight
if you feel completely comfortable in doing so. For male players – there is no
great benefit in using a heavy bat unless you feel you have the timing needed
to hit the ball down cold. The lighter bat allows you to wait on the ball until
you have a chance to determine exactly where it is in the hitting zone and then
get the bat on the ball by being quick. With experience you can increase bat
weight – but only do so to the extent that it doesn’t cut down on that all important
bat speed.
Length: All slow pitch bats should be 34 inches in length. If
you have a shorter bat than this it is probably a juvenile model – a longer bat
will be ruled illegal.
Balance: This comes down to a choice between “balanced” and
“end-loaded” models. Balanced bats allow for maximum control and bat speed and
have a larger “sweet spot”. End-loaded bats require a player who can generate
additional bat speed through greater strength and timing, but with the power
concentrated towards the end of the bat connection in the smaller sweet spot
will drive the ball further.
Here is the only thing you have to remember – for anyone below a
premier league talent level a balanced bat should be your only choice. This
does not mean that someone playing below prem shouldn’t be using an end loaded
bat (there a good few lower division players who could make the leap) – but if
they don’t think they could survive at the top level of player – don’t use an
end loaded bat. You’re just kidding yourself. Even if you are a premier player
– unless you can consistently contact the ball on the sweet spot and drive it
over fielders heads you should still go with the balanced bat.
Grip: Players will often pick up a bat, weigh it, swing it,
analyse the way it looks and sounds – but not pay any attention to how easy it
is to hold on to or let go. The grip is the crucial connection between you and
the bat – it is what determines how easily you translate the instructions your
brain is giving to you arms and hands to the instrument you are using to hit
the ball. You need to be sure that the tape on the grip is assisting you in
making that connection. Too loose (or slippery) and you’ll end up with a
stinging sensation in your hands and (more than likely) a weak ground ball or
pop up. Too sticky or bulky and you’ll likely not get the proper “whip” you
need to drive the ball. I’d recommend using a pair of batting gloves to help
you get the right grip – but, if you don’t have those make sure the bat is well
taped but doesn’t have a “sticky” feel to it. We’ll get in to where you should
grip the bat later.
Sound: Sound? What the hell could the sound a bat makes have to
do with anything? In softball it can actually mean quite a lot. Softball bats
are calibrated according to a certain level of compression – which is designed
specifically to regulate the speed at which the ball will come off the bat. If
that compression is compromised, by a leak or just old age, misuse or
temperature – then you can be assured that you will not be holding a tool in
your hand that is able to do the job you want it to. One of the best ways to
tell if you have a functioning bat is to listen to the sound that it gives off
when it hits a ball. Anything that sounds too “tinny” is probably compromised.
The same goes for a bat that sounds hollow or “clunky”. Look for one that makes
a sharp “crack” or sounds solid when meeting the ball. Listen for that sound –
when you start to hear it consistently, you’ll know that you are using the tool
in your hand the way it was meant to be used.
IN THE FIELD
The softball pitch is typically referred to as the “field” or
“diamond”, due to the diamond shape of the bases. There are two sections of the
field, the infield, consisting of the area inside the four bases, which
includes the positions of pitcher and catcher and the “infielders” – being the
first, second and third basemen and the shortstop.
The dimensions of the infield are set and cannot be changed (not
so for the outfield, which can vary depending on where you play). The distance
between the pitcher and catcher in a standard slow-pitch softball game is 65
feet, the distance from the pitcher to home plate is 50 feet and the batters’
box, which marks the area where the batter must stand while hitting, is as
marked. Infielders may station themselves inside or outside the diamond formed
by the baselines, but must not interfere with a runner’s progress around the
basepaths unless you are in the act of fielding a ball. When setting up a coed
team the general rule in the infield is that the “battery” (the pitcher and
catcher) can be of any sex, but for the remaining 4 infield positions you must
have two male and two female players. They can take any combination of
positions – but there must be two of each. The places you will wish to place
yourself when fielding will vary from position to position and situation to
situation, but here are some general rules for infielders that should be
considered before we dive into the specifics of each position.
Understand that the situation will often dictate where you play.
You may like playing shortstop at a certain depth, or distance from the base.
You may like guarding the line at first or third. But to be truly effective you
need to position yourself not just where you like to be but where you need to
be in order to address the situation. With a left-handed batter up it probably
doesn’t make much sense for the third baseman to be hugging the line. With a
power hitter at the plate the shortstop shouldn’t be close to the baseline. In
order to position yourself effectively you need to be aware of the situation
(how many outs, what’s the score, who is on base and where) and – most
importantly – you need to communicate with your fellow infielders. Talk back
and forth constantly to keep each other aware of what the situation is, who
will be covering what base, the count on the batter, the number of outs, where
this batter hit the last time they were up – everything.
Infielders often think that the most important thing to consider
when setting their fielding position is the strength or weakness of the hitter.
That’s not true. The most important factor that determines fielding strategy is
the location of the baserunners that will have to be dealt with. If there is no
one on base then the batter, as the only possible baserunner, is the primary
consideration. But if there are people on base then you have to first consider
what they might do when setting fielding positions. For example – let’s say
there is a strong righthanded batter at the plate – in that case the shortstop,
with no one on base, might want to play very deep in order to give himself the
best chance to field a hard hit ball. But with a runner on first that is not as
easy to do, since they may have to get to second base in order to take a throw
to get the force there. With a runner on third in a close game it might be wise
to play even closer to cut the run off at the plate. Because they must adjust
to the game situation a fielder first has to understand some basic concepts
concerning rules before taking the field. First up – let’s talk about the
concept of the “force play”.
A runner is said to be “forced” when they must advance to the to
the next base as the result of a batted ball in play. For example – when there
is a runner on second, and a ground ball is hit to the shortstop – that runner
on second base is not forced to do anything. There is a vacant base behind him
or her that must be occupied before that runner is “forced” to move. But let’s
say the batter gets to first and decides to make a dash to second and stretch
the hit into a double. Is the runner on second then forced to go to third?
No – they are not. The runner who rounded first and went for second is doing that on their own volition and not as “the result of a batted ball”. The runner already on second can simply stay put and ask his teammate “What the hell you doin’ here? – get your skinny little ass back to first.” (Or words to that effect).
But let’s change things up now. Let’s say that runner is on
first. Same ground ball to short – now there is no choice – the batter has to
run to first – so the runner on first must run to second. The runner is now
said to be “forced”. Being forced on the basepaths is like a chain reaction –
the obligation to run goes back through the chain. If there were runners on
first and second – both are forced because the batter must run to first, the
first base runner must run to second, so the second base runner has to go to
third. The same logic applies when the bases are loaded.
For a fielder this creates a major difference in strategy since
to put a forced runner out requires only that the ball reach the base before
the runner and the fielder who holds it need only tag the base – not the
runner- to record the out. It is also possible to record a “double play” by
getting the ball to the base ahead of multiple forced runners – so, runner on
first, grounder to short, flips the ball to the second baseman who tags the
base, whirls and throws to first ahead of the batter - bang – two outs on one
hit. So you will often hear someone telling a fielder to “keep the force on”
when a ball is hit where making a certain type of play just isn’t worth it. So
this leads us to the discussion about when (and why) it is sometimes better to
just hold on to the ball.
Knowing when there is a force on, (and when there isn’t), is a
key consideration for the infielder. However, it is by no stretch of the
imagination the only baserunner information they need to know. I’ve many times
seen a fielder try to make a spectacular cross field throw when there is
absolutely no chance to get the runner in question. This is especially foolish
when there are already runners on base – why would a third baseman make a
desperation throw to first with a runner on second? Really – realistically only
bad things can happen. The runner on second can advance to third, and often
even try to score if the throw gets away. The runner heading to first can
likewise move on to second – and you’re right back in the same position.
Truthfully – knowing when not to try something is often better than trying the
impossible. Sure – it may be frustrating to watch the runner make it to first
base – but think about it. By not throwing the ball you have frozen a runner at
second who is now subject to a force play at third. If the next batter hits a
ball your way – you won’t even have to worry about making that long throw to
first – you can just step on third and you’ve got yourself an out. There are a
few other quirks when it comes to forced outs that we’ll go over later – but
this gives you a basic awareness.
So now you know how to be aware of the baserunners and what they
can and can’t do – but all of that depends on being able to catch, secure and
throw a ball – the key aspects of “fielding”. What do you need to know about
how to effectively field a ball?
You will get a great deal of advice on how to best scoop up a
ground ball (we’ll discuss throwing later), but there are really only three
primary things to remember:
1. Get
to the ball as early as you comfortably can.
2. Look the ball in to your glove.
3. Secure the ball before beginning to transfer to your throwing hand.
That’s it – keep those three things in mind and you will be on
the road to success. Here’s a warning – you are going to hear people saying
things to you like: “Square up to the ball” or “take a crow hop” or “use two
hands” or “eat your vegetables” – all of which may be good advice in a given
circumstance, but won’t always apply to the fielding situation. Especially the
vegetables thing.
For example – let’s talk about the “square up to the ball” statement.
What they are trying to tell you is that when a ground ball is hit to you the
best way to field it is to get directly in front of the ball, put your hands
out and try to “centre” it in to your glove. I attach the ideal image:
That’s Luis Aparicio, a baseball hall of fame shortstop,
demonstrating the perfect way to field a ground ball. Of course, as fate would
have it, it’s not always possible to get in to this position. For example, if
you are playing third base, and a hard smash is hit to your left, the ball will
be 100 feet behind you before you square up like this. If you get the chance –
sure, this is how to field the ball – near perfect triangle on the front, back
and side, butt low to the ground, throwing hand in perfect position – great
fundamentals. This is how I would teach people to field when they can. But
knowing that the world is an imperfect place leads me back to the three basic
rules of fielding a ground ball. Here is what they mean even if you can’t
replicate Aparicio.
1. Get
to the ball as early as you comfortably can (Phase 1).
This rule is designed to give you the best chance to gather the ball. Some people try to “time” their arrival so they get to the ball just as it reaches the point they are going to field it. Bad choice. Luis is able to get in to the perfect position above because he got to the spot he wants to field the ball early. Even if you can’t get set up in this manner it is still best to give yourself as much time as possible to react to the ball – bad hops, slight stumbles, different choices on where to throw the ball – these all become easier to deal with if you get to your spot early, get your glove in position and balance your body as best you can.
2. Look
the ball in to your glove (Phase 2).
The biggest cause of errors is taking your eye off the ball
before you catch it. It throws your timing off, makes it impossible to react to
even slight changes in trajectory and leads to bobbles, drops, kicks and throwaways.
The one main thing you can glean from the Aparicio picture is where his hands
are located – slightly in front of his chin (also – look where his eyes are
focussed – straight on the ball). Even if you are fielding the ball from the
side this should always be the case. There are two main reasons for this. The
first is best demonstrated this way. Stand up and put your hands straight down
between your legs. Now look at a spot three feet in front of you. Can you see
your hands? Probably not. If you can’t see your hands – how are you ever going
to be able to watch a ball going in to them? Now, with your fingers brushing
the floor, move your hands just in front of your chin. See ‘em now? You should
– and that’s how you’ll be able to watch yourself gobble up grounders. Watch
the ball right to the completion of the play – when you start to learn you
should pretty much ask yourself a question as the ball goes in to your glove
“have I got it?” and you shouldn’t consider this phase of the play done until
you hear yourself say “yes I do”. Then you can go on to the next stage.
3. Secure
the ball before beginning to transfer to your throwing hand (Phase 3).
Everyone always focusses on the poor outfielder who drops a fly
ball because he or she tries to think about the throw before they make the
catch. Infield errors result even more frequently from such mistakes – it’s
just that they happen quicker so the cause isn’t as apparent. There are many
times where the infielder is so worked up about where they are going to throw
the ball that they forget that they have to catch the damn thing first. Look
the ball into your glove and then secure it before beginning any transfer
process. Get that answer we talked about in number 2 above – then start to
complete the play by making a decision with regards to a throw. This not only
allows you the best chance of making a successful throw – it allows you a
better opportunity to determine if you even should even attempt one. Sometimes
the best thing is to field the ball and then hold it – maybe the runner is too
fast, or the person covering the base isn’t ready yet – you’ll only really know
that if you complete phase two of the play before beginning phase three.
Throwing the Ball
This is not going to be a tutorial in the ergonomics and
physiology of throwing a softball. Everyone throws differently, learns how to
throw differently and is capable of throwing to a differing degree. Nothing
that can be written on a page can change that much. Instead what we’re going to
talk about here is when and why to make a given throw. In order to effectively
make that choice (and a throw is a choice, unlike catching a grounder or line
drive, which is a task) you need to follow a few standard rules/suggestions.
Those are:
1. Review
your most likely options prior to the ball even being pitched. In fact, very
often you should do this out loud, letting your fellow fielders know what the
situation is and what you plan to do. Sometimes this can seem annoying – why
always say – “infield – one out, no one on, go to first on a grounder”? Of
course that’s what you’re going to do. Believe me – it’s not being done to
annoy anyone, it’s just being done to incorporate good habits. These reminders
are as much for the benefit of the person saying them as for you. But even if
you hear them – you should still, in your mind, run through the situation in
your head before each pitch. Is the hitter a lefty or righty? How many outs?
Who is on what base? Where are there force outs? Should I look the runner back
before I throw to first?
Then there is the other responsibility that you have – helping
your fellow fielders should they have to make a throw. This is best covered by
reminding them of what you’ll be doing. So with a left handed batter (more
likely to hit to right field) at the plate, and a runner on first, the
shortstop might say to the second baseman “I’ll cover second on a grounder to
you or the pitcher”. It’s pretty obvious why the shortstop would cover on a
ball to the second baseman – but why to the pitcher? It’s because the next throw
(to first base) is easier for someone moving towards first (which would be the
case for a shortstop) than someone whose momentum is going the other way (like
a second baseman). Just a good way to keep communication and thinking sharp
before the throw.
2. Make
sure of the transfer before taking your eye off the ball. Again – this takes
place before you even attempt to throw the ball – when transferring the ball
from your glove to your throwing hand you should keep your eye on the ball
(remember - “watch the ball in to your glove”) until you know it is cleanly
into the grip of your throwing hand. One of the most common causes of errors is
that the fielder has his eyes looking around the field before this transfer
takes place. Make sure the transfer has taken place before moving your eyes
towards your next step.
3. Listen
to what your teammates are saying. This is where organisation is very important
– if there are nine other people shouting at you – sometimes different things,
it will be impossible to process the information. Teams should designate a
single player to shout out directions. This should typically be the shortstop
for instances where he or she is NOT the party making the throw and the pitcher
in other cases. It can also be the second baseman. The catcher might sometimes
be the best option, but realistically there are times when they might be too
far away from the action and in slow pitch the catcher can often be one of the
least experienced players. But pick one, and then listen to what they are saying.
4. Make
sure there is someone ready to receive the throw that you intend to make.
Remember – you may be throwing to exactly the right base, at just the right
time and you’ve followed all the above guidance – but DO NOT assume that everyone
is on the same page. Maybe the third baseman forgot there was a force on. May
be the pitcher didn’t cover first. Maybe the catcher is out of position.
Nothing makes everyone feel worse than having a throw sail away because people
weren’t ready to receive it. It only takes a fraction of a second to check that
you have someone waiting at the other end. Use that fraction of a second
wisely.
5. Once you have decided to throw, commit
to it fully. If you only half decide to throw, or you start to throw and then
second guess yourself – chances are you are going to screw it up. If you know
you are going to throw to a given place – then make the throw like you mean it.
It may turn out later that the choice was wrong – but when you are making the
throw you need to believe it is exactly what needs to be done. That means step
towards your target, release without letting go too early or holding on too
long and follow through after letting go. It doesn’t mean throwing as hard as
you can in every instance – you have to have the right amount of touch. Too
often I’ve seen pitchers who have fielded a groundball back to them fire the
ball to the first baseman who is only about fifteen feet away like they’re
trying to throw it through them, not too them.
More to come as I work through the other phases of the game...
Random Ramblings from the Great Lockdown of 2020 -Part Bakers’
Dozen, Oh, to be Jung again.
Today’s ramble takes its theme from Karl Jung who once said that
“the word “happy” would lose all its meaning if it were not balanced by
sadness”. Something to keep in mind these days, I suppose, as the frustrations
build up and we remain confined to the house, the street, the block, the “two
square kilometer” radius. How would we ever know how great it is to be able to
freely move around if we had never been locked down?
Oh – we would know it was better to be able to say “it’s too
nice to be stuck here all day – let’s go to the beach” and just do it. But
think how much more appreciative we will be when – well, when we can actually
“just do it”.
The same concept applies to much of what we’ve already
experienced. I grew up in New England, and I didn’t know what cold water was
until I had gone to Florida. Then, while walking along Clearwater Beach I felt
something get hung up on my foot, around my ankle. I looked down expecting to
see a piece of plastic wrap or one of those “police line” bits of tape. Instead,
to my amazement, I saw that I was walking in water – the ocean. It was so warm
I didn’t even know I’d gone in. This was unprecedented for someone who grew up
going to the New Hampshire coast every year. Going in to the sea there was
roughly the equivalent of applying a defibrillator. You knew the minute you
went in because even when the bottoms of your feet hit the water you stopped
breathing. The water temperature was deemed to be not bad if only the tips of
your fingers turned blue, and not down to your wrist. But I didn’t consider
that “cold” (I just assumed it was “normal”) until I went ankle deep in to the
Gulf of Mexico and didn’t even realize it. Your appreciation of one extreme is
heightened through your experience of the other.
There is perhaps no area (putting aside global pandemics) where
this effect more often becomes apparent than that of sports. Hell – ABC
reinforced this every time they showed you that poor son of a bitch wiping out
on the ski jump while expounding on “the thrill of victory and the agony of
defeat”.
There is something about sports that makes the juxtaposition of
the positive and the negative more stark – probably because there is a winner
and a loser crowned in most competitions so there is more opportunity. Here are
a few of the many occasions where I felt that yin/yang opposition most keenly.
In no particular order:
1. STONEHILL DEFEATS BENTLEY – 1995
This one was personal (well, they’re all personal, but this even moreso). I’m a Stonehill alum and was on the football team my senior year of 1984 when we went to Bentley and beat them on their home field. It was a hell of a game, in a real rivalry which was made even sweeter by the fact that Bentley had an incredible football program. They continued to have the same for years afterwards, to the extent that they went about three full years without losing in the mid-‘90’s. I knew the Stonehill coaches during that time (really well – one was my best man) and went every year to watch the game. The Stonehill players always put 100% in to the effort – but there was no getting around the fact that Bentley was good, really good, and so for a long stretch Stonehill came out on the short end.
No game hurt worse than 1993 when, after holding a 12 point lead
with 4 minutes left – and then having a five point lead and about 30 yards
between the Bentley quarterback (who was desperately scrambling to avoid a sack
as time ran out) and the goal line – a prayer of a pass ended up in a Bentley
receiver’s hands leading to an agonizing one-point loss. Everything that could
have gone wrong in those last few minutes did – onside kick recoveries, tackles
missed by fractions of inches, tipped passes ending up as receptions – if any
one thing had gone right the game would have been won – but nothing did, and in
the end you were left with what Bill Simmons has dubbed a “gut punch loss”.
1993 – was, without any doubt, the gut punchiest of losses. I still remember
the stricken look on those kids faces – as well as the coaches and I’m certain
mine as well. “How the hell did that just happen”?
Bentley went on to record another two straight years of
victories – 30 in a row, before Stonehill found itself back in Waltham as the
visitors in a battle of undefeated conference teams playing for a championship.
Things started poorly, as on the first play from scrimmage a Bentley player
rambled about 50 yards for a touchdown.
But then a crazy thing happened – Stonehill simply made every
play, got every break, pushed all the right buttons – for about three and a
half quarters. Then, with a 17 point lead well in to the 4th quarter – history
started to repeat itself – and I mean repeat itself exactly. In a comeback that
was almost play for play a repeat of what had happened two years before Bentley
scored two touchdowns in short order to pull within three points and then
marched down the field to within yards of the end-zone as time wound down. Then,
in what again seemed a virtual replay of the events from two years before a
pass was made into the end-zone to complete the comeback victory.
Oh wait.
A pass WAS made in to the end zone, and it WAS on the verge of
tearing the heart out of the visitors once again – but this time a game saving
interception was made to end the Bentley winning streak and prevent the cruel
repeat of yet another punch to the guts. Along with myself and one of the
largest crowds you would ever see at a non-division 1 football game, Bob Ryan,
one of the finest sports writers in the country was in attendance. The article
he wrote about the game – and its redemptive powers for even someone who hadn’t
the kind of vested interest that others might have – remains a classic. For me,
although I certainly have witnessed more powerful and (for the lack of a better
term) “bigger” reversals of fortune in the sporting realm – I can honestly say
I’ve never seen one where the events were so closely mirrored. The first game
was devastating – and the second game was so perfectly matched with what
happened the first time it was impossible not to feel that it was fated for a
repeat. The fact it didn’t happen – that there was someone there who was able
to halt the inexorable march of events – was like falling off a cliff only to
have someone just, coincidentally, by pure chance - happening to be moving a
trampoline along the road at the bottom of the drop. I will tell you this – the
fact that the first game had been lost the way it had – definitely influenced
how much the second one was appreciated. The loss sweetened the victory.
2. THE BRUINS WIN IN 1972
Look – I’ve written all about how redemptive the 2004 Red Sox
were – you can see it here:
and the fact that there had been so many close calls in the years
before that incredible season (especially the one just the year before) – make
that an incomparable event. It’s probably the best example of how the history
of a tortured past full of negative experiences makes the positive oh so much
better.
The same is true of the victories of the New England Patriots
over the past couple of decades. For a Patriots fan (meaning one from way back,
like myself) the fact that the team was for many years a laughingstock has made
the growth of the franchise into the epitome of excellence all that much
sweeter. Plus – it has inoculated (might I say “vaccinated”) us from the impact
of any criticism. I put it this way on a fan forum site in the past:
The best part about being a Patriots fan is that you can just
not give a shit about what other fan bases think. Dallas wants to be
"America's Team"? Good for you. Pittsburgh wants to revel in their
"legacy"? Knock yourself out. The Bills want to treat each game with
us like a war? Wonderful - go piss in Niagra Falls. The Jets fans want to
replay Joe Namath raising a finger as he exits Super Bowl III on an endless
loop? I raise a finger to you my friends, albeit a somewhat different digit.
All of 'em can just feck off. All I know is that I sat on those
goddamn freezing bleachers for years seriously contemplating things like
whether Hugh Millen was the answer or if we were better off going 2-14 or 1-15.
I don't care if anyone north of Caribou, south of Tiverton or west of
Pittsfield root for, worship, despise, respect, attack, like or even tolerate
this team. They are ours. The Sox are the team with the extended nation - and
I'm fine with that. The Celtics are the Celtics, the Bruins are "original
6" material - but the Pats are ours.
The biggest mistake the media has made about the era since
"Spygate" is to mistake the Patriot's fan's response to the alleged
"scandals" like “Deflategate”, “Tapegate”, “Antonio BrownGate” and
whatever else you’ve got as defensiveness. In truth it is incredulity. I mean –
if you are a long time Patriots fan you used to literally have to wade through
oceans of urine to watch the team play. Do you honestly think I care if you're
worried about how much air might be in the football?
Yes, the best thing about being a Pat's fan is that we are
untouchable, that all this outrage on the part of other fan bases is in truth
amusing and ultimately theoretical. We are not arrogant, we are immune. We
earned that immunity through years of disease. Remember when our coach
negotiated his exit on the eve of a crucial playoff game? Remember when our
coach negotiated his exit on the eve of a crucial playoff game? Wait - did I
say that twice? You bet your ass I did – because that exact thing happened to
this team TWICE (Fairbanks and Parcells). Remember how going through the parking
lot at the old Schaeffer/Sullivan/Foxboro stadium forced you to encounter more
craters than the astronauts in the lunar rover? Remember when the team was
nearly bankrupted because the owner’s son lost a fortune backing a “Jackson’s”
tour? (The “Victory” tour no less). Go through that and then tell me how I
should be ashamed because the current coach uses a strange (but legal)
formation and people whine that doing so is "not in the spirit of the
game". Awwww… – cry me a river.
I don't want the Pats to be America's team. I don't want to be
the gritty Steelers or the nasty Raiders. I don’t want to be the wholesome
Packers or the historic Bears. What I want is more rings because some of my
fingers are lonely.
So, while these teams definitely provide examples of times where
all the losing made the winning much sweeter what I want to talk about is
another team – one that often gets overlooked. That would be the 1971-’72
Boston Bruins. The one that won the Stanley Cup without Bobby Orr flying
through the air after scoring the winning goal.
The reason that victory is important to me stems from the fact
that the Bruins’ team from the year before was so much better.
Seriously.
The 1970-’71 Boston Bruins, which did not win the Stanley Cup
(in fact didn’t get out of the first round of the playoffs), was the best
Boston team of my lifetime. Not the greatest – but the best. The Bruins as a
team that year broke records for points, wins, goals, number of 20 goal scorers
– everything. They had the top 4 scorers in the league and 7 of the top 10.
Scoring over fifty goals was extremely rare – the all-time record was 58. Phil
Esposito didn’t just break the 60 goal barrier – he broke the 70 goal barrier
as well. 76 goals – 152 points – both records. Bobby Orr had 102 assists as a
defenseman. If you scored more than five goals a game as a team it was a big
deal. The Bruins routinely did that. There was one game where they scored 11
goals. I’d read the paper every morning just to see what records they broke. To
a seven year old kid it seemed like a given that they would repeat as Stanley
Cup champions.
And then they didn’t.
The Bruins ran in to their own limitations and a hot goaltender
named Ken Dryden and lost the first playoff series in seven games. I still
can’t believe it. I remember staring at the TV screen after the game seven loss
wondering if there could be a do-over.
So did everyone else I knew. Understand something about the
Bruins back then – they actually changed the landscape of Massachusetts –
probably New England. Every kid wanted to play hockey because of the Bruins. My
birthday is in July – I asked for ice skates. Every park or public space where
one could fit ended up with a rink being built in it. For Springfield I know
one named Cyr Arena was built in Forest Park – a few more popped up in other
places - and they went up FAST. Most of them were just corrugated tin or
Quonset hut style buildings – but they were everywhere. You can still see them
dotted throughout the Boston area (called “MDC rinks” for “Metropolitan
District Commission”) – some have been upgraded – but they had their roots in
those Bruins teams. And the best one of all of them – the ’70-’71 team – had
somehow lost.
The next year the Bruins came back determined to make up for the
loss – and while they didn’t set as many records, or create as many headlines –
they did manage to get back to the finals against the New York Rangers. I
remember being at my grandmother’s house for the sixth game – I was terrified
that it might end up going to a seventh, given how badly things had gone the
year before. For good reason Bobby Orr is best remembered for the goal he
scored to win the Bruin’s the Cup in 1970. The picture snapped as he soared
through the air is perhaps the greatest sports photo ever taken. But, for me,
the goal he scored to put the Bruin’s ahead in this final (which also ended up
being the winning goal) is just as memorable – he spun away from a defender and
snapped a shot into the goal in a way only he could – and I somehow knew
everything was going to be all right. The Bruins were going to win. The world
was going to be set right – and it meant that much more because everything
about the ending the year before had seemed so wrong.
 |
| Two years later he'd do it again |
3. IRELAND DEFEATS ENGLAND 43-13 AT CROKE PARK.
In 2003 Ireland hosted England at Landsdowne Road in a Six
Nations Rugby match. Landsdowne was scheduled for destruction, to be replaced
with a new stadium in the next few years, so this would be one of the final
times England would appear in the old grounds. It was a highly meaningful game
as both sides came in undefeated and the winner would leave with a
championship.
Ireland had started to come in to its own over the past few
years as its rugby team entered in to what would become known as its “golden
age” – England was still the dominant side but the gap was narrowing. Now they
were facing each other for the Six Nations championship and the magnitude of
the event seems to have gotten to the England captain, one Martin Johnson.
Johnson looked like a cross between a Neanderthal and something
much further back in the evolutionary chain. He brought his side out on to the
pitch and promptly headed for the wrong end of the field. Apparently unwilling
to put this down to error since it might undermine the concept of English
exceptionalism Johnson proceeded to line his team up on the wrong side of the midfield
stripe for the pre-game ceremonies. When politely asked to move he told the
officials to lay off, or words to that effect. As a result the President of
Ireland, Mary McAleese, was forced to walk across the turf in high heels all
because the English captain decided that the best way to motivate his team was
to be a complete gobshite.
The gobshite strategy evidently worked, because England won
handily that day. This allowed the side to gather the elusive “Grand Slam” that
they had failed to collect in years past, and all they had to do to accomplish
that was allow their captain to make a complete ass of himself, make the story
all about him and his oversized ego and humiliate their team to the extent that
the English Rugby Federation had to issue a formal apology. I guess that’s not
too high a price to secure a win that might, just might, have been won without
the appearance of being a complete bunch of yobo’s. But we’ll never know,
thanks to Mr. Martin Johnson.
The spectacle that was on display during the pre-game moved many
in Ireland to near apoplexy, but I was inspired musically. I remembered an old
tune that had been used on the Flintstone’s once – it was called “Happy
Anniversary” and was a centrepiece of that episode – perhaps you remember it:
With that tune in my head I swiftly composed an ode
commemorating the events of that day. Here are the complex lyrics, to be sung
to the “Happy Anniversary” refrain:
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Maaaaaaar – tin Johnson is a dick.
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Maaaaaaar – tin Johnson is a dick.
Martin, Martin, Martin, Martin,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin, Martin, Martin, Martin
Martin Johnson is a dick,
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin, Martin, Martin, Martin
Martin Johnson is a dick,
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Maaaaaaar – tin Johnson is a dick.
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Martin Johnson is a dick,
Maaaaaaar – tin Johnson is a dick.
(REPEAT)
Look, it’s not Cole Porter, but it’s catchy. The only thing I
have trouble with is coming up with a title. So far I just call it “Fugue in
D-Minor” but if anyone has any suggestions, I’m open to renaming.
A few years passed, and, as planned Landsdowne Road was torn
down. This required Ireland to find a new place to host the 2007 Six Nations
match against England. The Gaelic Athletic Association, Ireland’s oldest and
most venerable sporting association, offered the rugby team the use of its
magnificent 80,000 seat stadium, Croke Park.
The only difficulty – Croke Park is the site of a brutal
massacre of Irish civilians by a British armoured vehicle – the original
“Bloody Sunday” – and it is considered near holy ground, typically not open to
“foreign” sports. Before each Six Nation’s match the anthems of the competing
countries are played – everyone worried what would happen when the English
anthem “God Save The Queen” was played at Croke Park – would it be booed?
Shouted down? Would a riot break out? There was serious concern about an
international incident arising – especially in light of the behaviour of Martin
Johnson only a couple of years before. Would the Irish crowd remember the
disrespect shown on that day and return it in kind?
There was therefore a palpable nervous tension as the time for
the anthems approached. When the opening strains of the British anthem began
the Irish fans remained silent and respectfully waited through the song, while
the English team and fans sang along, leading the English TV announcer to ask
“What was the fuss about?” when the song ended.
Then the Irish anthem was played.
Oh.
My.
God.
Eighty thousand voices combined to belt out “Amhrán na bhFiann”
(A Soldier’s Song). The anthem reached a crescendo at its conclusion, leaving
many of the Irish players visibly in tears and a good many of the viewers as
well. This included the same English announcer who blurted “I’ll tell ya – I
gotta lump in me throat from that…”.
Listen, and watch, and see if you don’t suffer the same fate.
When the game began the English side found themselves with a few
lumps in other places as well. The Irish team ran around, through and over
them, administering the worst ever beating handed out to the English in the
century plus history of the rivalry. When the dust cleared the final score was
43-13, and to be honest it wasn’t really that close.
Was the lop-sided Irish win made even sweeter because of the
disgusting behaviour of Martin Johnson and his band of merry men a few years
previous? Given the grandeur of the anthems, the historic nature of the site,
the completeness of the victory – did the fact that it answered Johnson’s past
misdeeds truly enhance the level of enjoyment? Did it really make any
difference?
Well, yes actually, it did.
Because winning while exhibiting great sportsmanship trumped the
prior “mental tactics” that had none of those attributes. Because it showed
resolve where the prior behaviour just showed fear. Because it showed
confidence where not moving to the correct spot showed trepidation.
Because Martin Johnson is a dick.
Side note – a bit later in the year a group of us from the
neighbourhood were at a pub called the “Strawberry Hall” down by the banks of
the Liffey when a fella came in with a guitar and set up for a session. He was
really good and we got to chatting and the subject of rugby came up. Naturally
the thumping Ireland had put on the English was mentioned and the guy said –
“hold on a second – I got something you might like in the next set”. After much
soul searching and contemplation we all allowed as how we would make the
sacrifice and stick around for another pint or two (or three) and listen to the
next set.
After a suitable introduction the singer, whose name was Pat
Goode, broke in to a tune he had composed about the game, entitled simply
“43-13”. There are numerous great lines in the song (“…swing low, the wheels
have fallen off the chariot – it’s 43-13”) and we made him sing it again before
we all purchased copies of his CD (“Music is a Tonic For the Soul”). I can’t
find a link anywhere and I don’t know how to post from I-Tunes, but that is a
great song about a great win. If anyone does have a link – feel free to post
it.
POSTSCRIPT: I think I've found a way to post this - hope it works:
So why this theme? As we all
begin to feel the strain of staying in the house, not having our daily
interactions, not being able to go out for a bite or a pint, just generally
feeling like we’re losing it (whether “it” be our routines, our edge or our
minds) – just remember these examples of how losing makes the eventual victory
that much more enjoyable. We’ll get there - “80 minutes of pleasure, 800 years
of pain, 80,000 voices singin’ in the rain…”.
Random Ramblings from
the Great Lockdown of 2020 – Part XIV – Springboards
One of the strange side effects of the recent quarantine has
been the explosion of “shared” viewing experiences. This has mainly come about
as the result of millions of people essentially becoming a captive audience –
with nothing to do except trade suggestions about what to watch it is very easy
to see a “snowball effect” develop for certain shows. One of the first subjects
of these rambles was “Tiger King”, for which I thought I was a bit ahead of the
curve. Turns out – not that much – I thought the show was unique, compelling
viewing – like a multi-episode train wreck from which you cannot avert your
eyes. I guess I was right – it is now seemingly the most viewed documentary
series in history. Sorry Ken Burns and “The Civil War” or “Making of a
Murderer” – there is a new king, with stripes (in more ways than one).
Now “Tiger King” is a phenomenon – but I simply don’t see it
being as popular, and going quite this viral, unless it had been for a certain
– virus. The same may be true for a few other shows – for instance, I love
“Ozark” – but the last Byrds to have this big a hit were singing “Mr.
Tambourine Man”.
(By the way – I love that clip. The group is obviously lip-synching
and David Crosby, who just might be under the influence of more than just Bob
Dylan’s lyrics, stumbles around like he’s on another planet).
Of course – this is sort of the way television used to be. Back
in the day (he says in his best old fogey voice) there were only a few channels
– so chances are that most people would tune in to the really big events at the
same time and everyone would talk about the previous night’s shows at the
watercooler, or over coffee, or in homeroom, or in the car pool the next day.
When someone found a show that was good it had a chance to break out due to
word of mouth. That’s what happened to “The Waltons”, which was a replacement
show and went on to become a huge hit based on a steadily growing audience
spurred by word of mouth.
There were certain shows that became “springboards” – huge
numbers of the people who guest starred on episodes went on to become stars –
either in movies or other TV shows. “The Waltons” was one of those springboard
shows – at one time or another Ron Howard, Sissy Spacek, John Ritter, Jennifer
Jason Leigh and Ned Beatty appeared in the show – all of whom went on to win or
be nominated for an Oscar or Emmy. Beyond that – “The Waltons” was the first
show on which both Ron Howard and Erin Moran appeared (different episodes)
before later becoming Cunningham’s. Other guests included Jackie Earle Haley
(“Bad News Bears”), Todd Bridges (“Different Strokes” -
“whatchootalkinboutWillis?”), Dick Sargent (one of the Darrin’s on
“Bewitched”), Willie Aames (“Eight is Enough”), Michael O’Keefe (“Caddyshack”)
and Merle Haggard, who never won an Oscar or Emmy but grabbed a few Grammys.
Here’s Merle on the Walton’s:
But I gotta be honest – this is my favorite of Merle’s clips:
There were other shows that were springboards for multiple stars
(and we’ll get to the biggest of them all in time), but multiple stars weren’t
always the result of a springboard show. Sometimes it was one particular actor
who got a boost. For instance, if I was to tell you that there was a show that
launched a multiple best actress winner, best supporting actress nominee, Emmy
winner – who also appeared in one of the box office champion pictures in the
70’s and 90’s while winning those Oscar nominations 5 decades apart – you’d
probably say “Meryl Streep was never on a TV show”.
Well – she never starred in a series – but I’m not talking about
Meryl Streep. I’m referring to Sally Fields. After the short lived “Gidget”
Fields starred for three years as “The Flying Nun” – on which she played a nun
– who – well, she flew. Somehow, a show in which an underweight nun who wore an
aerodynamic habit and was able to soar around Puerto Rico nabbing bad guys
managed to get greenlit.
The fact that Sally Fields was able to overcome this casting
debacle to win two Oscars, ride across the South with the Bandit, play Forrest
Gump’s mom and get another Oscar nomination for portraying Mary Todd Lincoln
may be the greatest single Hollywood story line of all time.
She was an anorexic nun.
Who flew.
Look – “The Flying Nun” was a show with an absurd premise that
wasn’t that good and still managed to launch a great career. There were other
shows with a ridiculous premise that managed to launch astounding careers that
were – actually surprisingly good.
Perhaps the best example of this is a show called “Bosom Buddies”
which ran for a couple of years in the early ‘80’s. Based on the premise of two
males masquerading in drag so they could live in an all-female hotel it starred
Peter Scolari (who went on to co-star on “Newhart”), Donna Dixon (who went on
to be Mrs. Dan Aykroyd) and a guy by the name of Tom Hanks, who went on to be
Tom Hanks. “Bosom Buddies” is primarily known for the ridiculousness of its
underlying plot and the fact that just about everyone who saw it now says “that
show was actually pretty good”.
Much of that is down to Hanks who is a good enough actor to make
reading the Denny’s menu by turns funny, dramatic, and emotionally devastating.
Hanks starred in this particular show but he is also in the running for the
all-time “surprising guest star” title. Hanks appeared as a guest on “Happy
Days”, where he fights the Fonz, “Taxi” where he leads Reverend Jim down the
road to ruin, and perhaps most memorably opposite Michael J. Fox on “Family
Ties” where, on an alleged sitcom, he completes probably one of the least
comedic scenes in history as the alcoholic Uncle Ned. It really has to be seen
to be believed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOQSQfTsMzo
Such a “very special episode”.
By the way, Tom and his wife Rita Wilson, who were both
diagnosed with the Corona virus in one of the earliest episodes of that
particular show, are seemingly doing fine and are back home, which is great
because they seem like nice people and there’s no way you’d want anything bad
to happen to them. They met, strangely enough, when Wilson was a guest star on
“Bosom Buddies”, although Hanks claims to have first checked her out when she
was a guest star on “The Brady Bunch” in 1972. Here’s the scene where Rita
roots on “the Bears”.
This episode was shot when Hanks was 16 years old. That means he
picked up a cheerleader off a film clip by manipulating himself in to a
starring role on a sit-com and getting that same cheerleader/actress cast as a
guest star on his show.
Well done Mr. Hanks.
Of course – Rita Wilson had managed to secure a number of other
guest roles in the intervening years. That included one on the greatest of all
springboard shows, the sitcom that had more notable guest stars than any other.
The King of Spring, the Leader of Launch, the Colossus of Cameo – I’m speaking
of M*A*S*H. It seems like every episode of M*A*S*H has a scene where you go
"Hey! - I know him/her!" M*A*S*H has so many notable guest stars that
one of them, Harry Morgan, managed to come back later on as a regular cast
member playing a completely different role.
In no particular order the following people made guest
appearances on M*A*S*H (I’ve included a short reminder of some of their other
key roles):
Jack Soo (Yamana from “Barney Miller”)
Loudon Wainwright III (singer of “Dead Skunk in the Middle of
the Road”)
Ned Beatty (“Deliverance”)
Brian Dennehy (RIP)
Ed Begley, Jr. (“St. Elsewhere” and just about every other TV
show or film ever made – seriously, look at this guy’s IMDB page sometime)
Andrew Dice Clay (“A Star is Born”)
Laurence Fishbourne (“The Matrix”)
Blythe Danner (Mother of Gwyneth)
Teri Garr (“Tootsie”)
Mariette Hartley (Not Mrs. James Garner)
Shelley Long (Once co-starred in a movie with Tom Hanks)
Rita Wilson (Once co-starred in a movie with Tom Hanks)
Bruno Kirby (“Godfather II”, “When Harry Met Sally”, evidently
died trying to keep up with Ed Begley, Jr.)
William Katz (“The Greatest American Hero”)
John Matuszak (American Football Player)
Alex Karras (“Blazing Saddles”, “Webster” – also a football
player. When combined with Matuszak M*A*S*H probably had more Pro-Bowls and
Super Bowls than the New England Patriots during the show’s run. Also, a much
better defensive front four even if Shelly Long and Rita Wilson lined up
alongside them.)
Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi)
Leslie Nielsen (“Airplane”)
Joe Pantoliano (Coincidentally, the winner of the “Joey Pants
Award” for this show)
John Ritter (“Three’s Company”)
Mary Kay Place (“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman”)
Marcia Strassman (“Hello, Mrs. Kaht - tear)
Susan St. James (“Kate & Allie”)
Patrick Swayze (“Saturday Night Live”, dancing opposite Chris
Farley) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stqG2ihMvP0
Jeffrey Tambor (“Arrested Development”)
Ron Howard (Narrator in “Arrested Development”)
Joan Van Ark (“Knots Landing” also, along with Susan St. James
one of the few people who have a three word name who isn’t a serial killer or
assassin. David Ogden Stiers also qualifies. John Wayne Gacy, Lee Harvey Oswald
and John Wilkes Booth do not).
George Plimpton (Ha! Just kidding. But you never would have got
it unless I told you. Actually Alan Alda, star of M*A*S*H, played Plimpton in
the movie “Paper Lion”)
George Wendt (“Cheers” – think of the pub quiz fun you could
have with “On what show did Shelly Long and George Wendt both first appear?)
Burt Young (Paulie from “Rocky”)
George Lindsey (Goober. On what show did Ron Howard and George
Lindsey both appear after the “Andy Griffith Show”? – answer: “Mayberry R.F.D.”)
James Cromwell (“Babe”, “L.A. Confidential”)
Michael O’Keefe (“Caddyshack” – and we come full circle)
I’m sure I missed some. M*A*S*H was basically a decade (plus)
long casting call for Hollywood. Granted, if “Star Trek” hadn’t been cancelled
it might have challenged for the title (Ricardo Montalban and Joan Collins say
“hi”), but M*A*S*H is the place to go if you want to spot someone notable in
the background. Oddly enough, Merle Haggard did not guest star in M*A*S*H, but
when I googled “Merle Haggard” and “MASH”, I got the attached picture, which
was kind of cool.
It also gives me a chance to link to the Grateful Dead singing a
Merle Haggard tune, because, well, it’s the Dead singing a Merle Haggard tune:
So, due to the necessary interval of COVID-19
quarantine we are all reverting back to the era of “shared TV experiences”.
It’s already led to the phenomenon of “Tiger King” but are there any other
careers that will explode because of the springboards that such shared
experiences will give? Someone off “Ozark” perhaps? To be honest – I hope it
ends up being Rhea Seehorn from “Better Call Saul” because she’s been great in
that role for years now. Whoever it is – I predict that some actor is going to
be able to look back fondly (at least from a career standpoint) on the time
when we all had to hole up in our houses and watch lots and lots (and lots) of
TV.
Random ramblings from
the great lockdown of 2020 – Part XV – worth tracking down.
One of the ways in which this lockdown is not, (in terms ONLY
related to how difficult it is to tolerate as a shut in), all that tough is
that the range of entertainment available to us shut-ins is far in excess of
what may have been the case in the past. If you were shut down in the 1918
Spanish flu epidemic you probably had books and board games, like chess.
Monopoly wasn’t yet available and jigsaws weren’t that prevalent as well. If
you were sheltering during the blackouts of WWII – you had radio, books if the
light wasn’t visible from the street or Monopoly and other boardgames which were
becoming widely available. In the 1960’s – if the threat of nuclear war kept
people inside during a crisis -you had TV (with about 3 channels) all of which
would have been informing you of how long you might expect to live in the event
the Russians launched from Cuba. (About 30 minutes, on average).
What fun.
Actually – my parents were on their honeymoon in October of 1962
(in Washington D.C.) when the Cuban missile crisis hit. All government
buildings shut down (for tourists) leaving them locked down. I was born in July
of 1963 – so it’s reasonable to assume that people found something to pass the
time (thank you Fidel Castro).
These days we are blessed with so many more options (more, not
necessarily better). There are still books, Monopoly, jigsaw puzzles, the radio
and TV still provides the frustration of daily briefings that increasingly
resemble the following:
But there is also the miracle of the internet, which allows you
access to such fonts of knowledge as this humble post, sites like YouTube which
allow you to view such fabled athletic events as Gabe Kaplan defeating Robert
Conrad in the ferocious 1976 final of Battle of the Network Stars (perhaps one
of the great moments in 1970’s)
athletics:
and the film libraries of streaming
services such as NetFlix, Disney+ and Amazon Prime (amongst others).
In my opinion the problem with those services is that you are
still constricted to the titles included in their current catalogue. Those are,
admittedly, large – but unless you subscribe to all of them, and they don’t skew
towards the modern titles, there is a whole range of films that you can’t see.
Now, truth be told I am a movie buff from way back, and I have a
fairly large collection of DVDs. (Remember DVD’s – they were all the rage back
in the olden days, like 2015). I rely on them to provide me with options that
NetFlix will not – and I can access some of the extras if I really want to.
So here, in no particular order, are a few recommendations for
films that you might want to track down (if you get a chance) and have around
to get you through another day of lockdown:
1. IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT
This is one of Frank Capra’s earliest and most notable films.
Perhaps not as iconic as “It’s A Wonderful Life” it was certainly better received
upon release. It Happened One Night swept the Oscars in 1934 – it represents a
time when Hollywood was still a bit more daring than the conventional
mainstream but was just about to be subjected to the “Code of Decency” that
would make the star of this film (Clark Gable) have to go through a wall of
opposition before being allowed to utter the word “damn” in his later, most
famous, role. It Happened One Night was ostensibly pre-Code but the beginnings
of Code inspired conventions (the “walls of Jericho”, etc.) are still
delightful to see. The manipulations of the studios (they traded rights to
stars like football players, optioned rights to stories, influenced the press and
the way the film was received) – all tell a great story about how the business
of movie-making was developing. Finally – as this was a Columbia film starring
an MGM leading man and one of the first female stars with the ability to
negotiate her own contracts – “It Happened One Night” presents a great
opportunity to explore the inner working of the system that would dominate
films for approximately four decades. Plus – it’s really funny.
The plot of the film is relatively straightforward (implausible,
but not as farfetched as what would typically come to be considered “screwball”
comedies). The daughter of a millionaire wishes to elope, her father objects.
She goes on the run and the story of her flight goes national. She happens upon
a down-on-his-luck reporter, who realizes that this is the chance of a lifetime
– the exclusive on the “heiress on the lam” story that will get his job back –
as long as he can deliver the daughter safely to the arms of her waiting
betrothed.
Thus, the story becomes a “road picture” as the couple makes
their way towards New York from Florida via bus, car and foot. The complication
is, of course, that they begin to fall for each other as they make their way
cross country – but neither wants to admit this fact, and, when they do,
signals get crossed. The way the film addresses such complications as unmarried
couples checking in to (and sharing) motel rooms provides great comedic fodder.
The film’s anachronisms (the motel court, the “autogyro” helicopter, the slang)
don’t hurt the film but enhance it – which is not always an easy feat to pull
off (Easy Rider, for instance, hasn’t aged as well) – and so it makes it easy
to talk about how this sort of entertainment built the Hollywood that would
come to be.
2. THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR
I can’t 100% tell you why I like this movie, but I do. Part of
it has to do with the star – one of the reasons that I put together a
collection of old movies is because you can pick them up for pennies right now
– and you can focus on particular themes or ideas. For example – there was a
movie star back in the day by the name of Gene Tierney. For a long while I
couldn’t have told you if Gene Tierney was male or female. It turns out –
female – and generally regarded as one of the most beautiful leading ladies of
her time. She appeared in a number of classic films – but never achieved the
legendary status of a Katherine Hepburn or Grace Kelly. She was nominated for a
best actress Oscar, starred in films for John Ford and Otto Preminger (“Laura”
– one of the all-time great film noirs) – why didn’t you hear more about her? I
knew I could get hold of a bunch of her films for next to nothing – so I
thought I’d try and see why some stars are talked of forever, while others seem
to fade.
In The Ghost and Mrs. Muir Tierney plays a turn of the century
widow who, in order to establish her independence following her husband’s death,
retreats to an old house by the sea, where she meets up with the spirit of its
former owner. He is an old salt played by Rex Harrison – and their weird
“relationship”, which encompasses her betrayal by a living scumbag of a suitor,
is unfulfilling in a way that ends up leaving you admiring of the way in which
the film does not strictly adhere to the standard Hollywood ending. A strange
gem – and, no, I still don’t understand why Gene Tierney isn’t better known.
3. ANYTHING BY PRESTON STURGES
Here is something I wrote about Sturges a while ago:
I’ve been a movie buff since I was a kid – I remember going over to my Grandparents house – they were the first in the family to have a color television – just to watch the old movies that Channel 22 would show on Saturdays. The movies were in black and white but the key thing about the set was that it was huge. It was one of those cabinet models that had about a 22” screen. Nowadays a screen that size is basically a computer monitor – back then it was the nearest thing to a theater outside the actual thing. But I’d sit there with a ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of ginger ale and watch W.C. Fields, the Marx Brothers, “The Thin Man” series – whatever was on. I remember that was where I first saw “The Great McGinty”, a Preston Sturges’ classic. After that I never grew tired of watching movies on a TV set. I know that seeing them in a theater is better, but I grew up a long way from movie theaters, in the middle of Blandford, Massachusetts - population of about 1,000 when I was a kid. You couldn’t walk to the local cinema there, and by the time you could drive anywhere there were other things on your mind when you had the car. I’d see plenty of films in theaters but never lost the taste for hanging out in a nice chair in front of the TV and watching a movie straight through.
As a result, and along with the fact that I’ve always been a
collector, I like to keep copies of DVDs around, for just such an opportunity.
With a little spare time on a rainy day I’ll pop something in the DVD player
and watch one of my old favorites, something that I haven’t seen from a
director or actor I like - or just take a chance on something I’ve read about
or am intrigued by. Comedies, drama, foreign, documentary, action – whatever
happens to be the flavor of the moment can end up on the screen.
To start things off I’m going to focus on the aforementioned
Preston Sturges – the “lowly” screenwriter who managed to break through and
have the studios allow him to direct – the guy who was the brains behind some
of the most entertaining films you’d ever want to see, fitting in to (but also
transcending) the “madcap” comedies of the 30’s and 40’s. Sturges blazed the
trail for the Tarantinos, Coen Brothers and Woody Allens’ of the world – and
he’s never totally received his due. This article is going to try to tell you
why he should.
Even if Sturges had never made a movie he would have lived an
interesting life. His mother was the best friend of Isadora Duncan and was
present when the dancer was killed as her long, flowing silk scarf got wrapped
around a drive shaft on the car in which she was being driven, breaking her
neck. Sturges’ mother, who to that point had been a bit of a globetrotter (a
jet setter before jets) and had left her husband back in the States, never
really recovered from the shock. The wealthy man she was married to, not
Sturges’ father, nonetheless took a strong liking to his stepson and financed
his education and start in life.
Sturges was a good writer who managed to make a killing on a
play he wrote and brought to Broadway. With some money in his pocket he
followed his muse to Hollywood where he excelled at turning out fast paced
interesting scripts, sort of Aaron Sorkin-like dialogue driven stuff. His first
cut at screenwriting remains one of the most extraordinary and influential
first scripts ever written. The Power and the Glory is a story about the rise
of a business mogul, played by Spencer Tracy. But this only scratches the
surface of what made the writing so unique. Sturges actually told the entire
story through a series of out of sequence flashbacks, starting from the main
character’s funeral. Using a number of vignettes to get at the essence of
Tracy’s character, oftentimes telling the tale from the point of view of different
narrators, Sturges virtually invented a new way of relating a story on film.
While the movie did only a limited box office it bowled over critics and other
screenwriters alike. Its style is often cited as one of the major influences on
Citizen Kane, which was co-written by Herman Mankiewicz, a friend of Sturges.
On the strength of this and a series of strong follow up scripts
Sturges was able to go to Paramount and cut a deal that other writers in
Hollywood could never have pulled off. Sturges wrote a script that he knew was
of the highest quality – no producer would be able to read it and not want to
make the picture – one on which he could have made a small fortune by selling
the rights. But he took a different route, instead of being paid for his
screenplay he traded it for $10.00 and the opportunity to direct the picture
himself. This was unprecedented for a mere writer in Hollywood. Writers were
(and to a certain extent continue to be) the lowest rung on the Hollywood
ladder. While this is by its very nature absurd it nonetheless represented the
way the studio system worked – writers were legendarily described by Sam
Goldwyn as “schmucks with a typewriter”. Writers didn’t get percentage deals,
didn’t get control over their screenplay, didn’t get a studio expense account –
didn’t get any of the perks associated with the movie business. (Typical joke –
“Did you hear the one about the dumb starlet? – She tried to get ahead by
sleeping with the screenwriter”.) They certainly never got to direct. Sturges
broke that barrier down – which is the primary reason why the Woody Allen’s and
Coen Brothers of the world should be grateful to him.
The movie Sturges got to write and direct was “The Great
McGinty”. This story of how a down on his luck nobody turned into a huge
political powerhouse (and what happened to him) is one of the great political
films in movie history. The scene where McGinty manages to solicit a bribe
without ever asking for money is a masterpiece (“See that picture I have of a
ballgame there – how many people do you think were at that game?”). Sturges won
the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay and, more importantly, his success made
it possible for him to continue to write and direct a number of other films all
while gaining increased independence from the studios.
That independence was put to good use as Sturges built up a
coterie of stock actors who would appear in his films time after time. These
included people like William DeMarest (who I would first come to know as the
cantankerous Uncle Charlie number 2 on My Three Sons), Robert Greig and Joel
McRae. These were strong character actors who got to know their director and
thus got in tune to deliver ever more solid repertory performances with each go
round. This resulted in a string of films that were immensely influential, way
ahead of their time in theme, structure and dialogue and incredibly
entertaining. They are still eminently watchable and, in addition to McGinty, I
have the following Sturges films in my collection, all of which I would
recommend:
Hail the Conquering Hero:
A would be Marine finds out that he is being shipped home due to a medical condition. Convinced he is a failure he is adopted by a troop of sympathetic fellow Marines who determine that he will be treated as a hero when he gets home – and create a back story to make that happen. Hilarity ensues as the reluctant hero deals with the consequences of fame.
A would be Marine finds out that he is being shipped home due to a medical condition. Convinced he is a failure he is adopted by a troop of sympathetic fellow Marines who determine that he will be treated as a hero when he gets home – and create a back story to make that happen. Hilarity ensues as the reluctant hero deals with the consequences of fame.
The Lady Eve:
Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda star in another madcap comedy about a grifter (Stanwyck) and a featherbrained millionaire (Fonda) who court each other on the high seas and rural Connecticut. Considered one of the “500 Must See Movies” by Empire magazine The Lady Eve is probably one of the two or three best examples of the “screwball” comedy genre, and may really be the best of all of them.
Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda star in another madcap comedy about a grifter (Stanwyck) and a featherbrained millionaire (Fonda) who court each other on the high seas and rural Connecticut. Considered one of the “500 Must See Movies” by Empire magazine The Lady Eve is probably one of the two or three best examples of the “screwball” comedy genre, and may really be the best of all of them.
Sullivan’s Travels:
Many consider this Sturges’ best film – a tale about a film director (the “Sullivan” of the title, played by Joel McRae) who feels making lowbrow comedies is beneath him – and yearns to make films about the true downtrodden masses of American life. When it is pointed out to him that he hasn’t got the slightest idea of what life in the underbelly was like he hits the road with ten cents in his pocket (and less sense in his head). There he meets various misadventures – as well as Veronica Lake. For those of you who don’t know who Veronica Lake is it’s hard to explain how good she looked on film. When the creators of L.A. Confidential wanted to make Kim Basinger a doppelganger of the sexiest film star there was – they made her look like Veronica Lake. When the creators of Who Framed Roger Rabbit wanted Jessica Rabbit to look like the sexiest cartoon ever drawn – they drew her like Veronica Lake.
Many consider this Sturges’ best film – a tale about a film director (the “Sullivan” of the title, played by Joel McRae) who feels making lowbrow comedies is beneath him – and yearns to make films about the true downtrodden masses of American life. When it is pointed out to him that he hasn’t got the slightest idea of what life in the underbelly was like he hits the road with ten cents in his pocket (and less sense in his head). There he meets various misadventures – as well as Veronica Lake. For those of you who don’t know who Veronica Lake is it’s hard to explain how good she looked on film. When the creators of L.A. Confidential wanted to make Kim Basinger a doppelganger of the sexiest film star there was – they made her look like Veronica Lake. When the creators of Who Framed Roger Rabbit wanted Jessica Rabbit to look like the sexiest cartoon ever drawn – they drew her like Veronica Lake.
The attached picture is of Veronica Lake.
She is why God created movie stars.
Any hoo – Sullivan eventually ends up in jail on a road gang.
There he finds life’s true underbelly – and realizes a truth that brings him
full circle. By the way – the name of the film that Sullivan longs to make
about the downtrodden everyman? - it’s “Oh Brother Where Art Thou”. It seems
like the Coen brothers do appreciate their cinematic forebears.
Christmas in July:
Imagine Mad Men as a screwball comedy.
Imagine Mad Men as a screwball comedy.
The Palm Beach Story:
How the hell do I describe the plot of The Palm Beach Story? It’s like trying to summarize A Midsummer Night’s Dream, All’s Well That Ends Well or Much Ado About Nothing – suffice to say that Sturges, like Shakespeare, manages to weave a story around a set of circumstances that pushes the limits of believability, but in a good way. Sometimes convoluted storylines kill the story – but when crafted correctly the complexity can actually add to the enjoyment – and it does here. Claudette Colbert and (again) Joel McRae star, along with Rudy Vallee.
How the hell do I describe the plot of The Palm Beach Story? It’s like trying to summarize A Midsummer Night’s Dream, All’s Well That Ends Well or Much Ado About Nothing – suffice to say that Sturges, like Shakespeare, manages to weave a story around a set of circumstances that pushes the limits of believability, but in a good way. Sometimes convoluted storylines kill the story – but when crafted correctly the complexity can actually add to the enjoyment – and it does here. Claudette Colbert and (again) Joel McRae star, along with Rudy Vallee.
The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek:
In a moment of patriotic fervor Betty Hutton’s character (named, unforgettably, Trudy Kokenlocker) marries a serviceman due to ship overseas the next day - and proceeds to celebrate at full throttle (as you will). When she wakes in the morning she can’t quite remember her new husband’s name – but he has left her a little present, not to be opened for nine months. The local 4-F boy, who has loved Trudy for years is willing to step up to the plate – but – well, that would be too easy. Instead the convoluted plot tormented the censors with the themes it addressed and called upon some old friends to resolve itself. Sturges may have worried the studios a bit too much with this one as they came to fear what he might do with his vaunted independence.
In a moment of patriotic fervor Betty Hutton’s character (named, unforgettably, Trudy Kokenlocker) marries a serviceman due to ship overseas the next day - and proceeds to celebrate at full throttle (as you will). When she wakes in the morning she can’t quite remember her new husband’s name – but he has left her a little present, not to be opened for nine months. The local 4-F boy, who has loved Trudy for years is willing to step up to the plate – but – well, that would be too easy. Instead the convoluted plot tormented the censors with the themes it addressed and called upon some old friends to resolve itself. Sturges may have worried the studios a bit too much with this one as they came to fear what he might do with his vaunted independence.
The Great Moment:
And here we come to a Sturges mis-step. The Great Moment is a biopic about the inventor of anethesia, and Sturges intended it to be a serious commentary on how the benefits of science conflict with the system of patents that can tie remedies up in the hands of profit seekers. Talk about ahead of its time – this pre-dates one of the most contentious of our current medical debates. But Sturges left Paramount before the film’s release – and the studio gained control of the movie after he left. When they sent it out for pre-screening some of the comments alarmed the studio hacks – who decided to re-cut a pointed medical social commentary film into, get this, what they thought would end up looking like a typical Preston Sturges screwball comedy. Where Sturges wanted the audience to sympathize with the agony of pre-anesthetic surgery - where patients had to be physically restrained because of the incredible pain involved – Paramount went for laughs. Sturges begged them not to do it - but that’s how the film went out – and forever tarnished Sturges' legacy. There is now a director’s cut that sets the record straight, but at the time all anyone knew was that Sturges had directed a bomb – and, unfairly, it became harder for him to exercise control over his own films. His career faltered.
And here we come to a Sturges mis-step. The Great Moment is a biopic about the inventor of anethesia, and Sturges intended it to be a serious commentary on how the benefits of science conflict with the system of patents that can tie remedies up in the hands of profit seekers. Talk about ahead of its time – this pre-dates one of the most contentious of our current medical debates. But Sturges left Paramount before the film’s release – and the studio gained control of the movie after he left. When they sent it out for pre-screening some of the comments alarmed the studio hacks – who decided to re-cut a pointed medical social commentary film into, get this, what they thought would end up looking like a typical Preston Sturges screwball comedy. Where Sturges wanted the audience to sympathize with the agony of pre-anesthetic surgery - where patients had to be physically restrained because of the incredible pain involved – Paramount went for laughs. Sturges begged them not to do it - but that’s how the film went out – and forever tarnished Sturges' legacy. There is now a director’s cut that sets the record straight, but at the time all anyone knew was that Sturges had directed a bomb – and, unfairly, it became harder for him to exercise control over his own films. His career faltered.
In the end Sturges didn’t enjoy the type of run where he made
whatever films he liked for decades to come. That just doesn’t happen – not
every ending is happy. Sturges was reined in by the studios, fell to drinking
too heavily, made a couple of unsuccessful films – and died at the Algonquin
Hotel in 1959. He’s remembered by true movie fans for the ground he broke, for
the paths he blazed and, above all, for the amazing series of films he managed
to turn out in the 30’s and 40’s – all of which I’d recommend you see if the
opportunity arises. I’d also recommend the book Madcap – The Life of Preston
Sturges by Donald Spoto which does a good job of placing Sturges in the context
of the times he managed to be so relentlessly ahead of.
4. THE GODS MUST BE CRAZY
I must be the crazy one for recommending this South African
movie. It has choppy editing, a dodgy story line, poor sound, antiquated
effects and includes an actor who speaks in a dialect that includes “clicks”,
which are expressed in written form like this “!”. Doesn’t matter – for the
times we are in, when outside forces sometimes seem utterly incomprehensible,
this is the perfect film. What’s the plot? Yeah – let’s just say it involves
throwing an empty Coke bottle off the edge of the world, rhino’s stomping out
brush fires and having to start a jeep by popping the clutch.
5. DEAD OF NIGHT
Ealing Studios is a British film company best known for its
comedies, like “The Lavender Hill Mob”, “The Man in the White Suit” and “The
Ladykillers”. These would often star Alec Guinness and have held up fairly
well. But I’m not going to focus on that part of Ealing – because this is an
off beat offering from the studio that stands up as the quintessential British
horror film. It’s actually a series of films, with different directors -an
anthology of ghost stories that are tied together (at both ends). Some are
farcical, some classic, some remain disturbing – but it’s a unique blend of
stories and approaches. There have been a number of “multiple director”
anthology efforts over the years (“New York Stories” and “Four Rooms” come to
mind) – but this one might just be the best.
So – when you are sick of the choices you are being given by
your streaming service – and you think about searching for something off the
beaten path – you might consider these offerings. Of course, you may think I’m
a complete lunatic for even suggesting them. If that be the case I can only
say:
“I know you are but what am I?”
Random Ramblings from
the Great Lock Down of 2020 – Part XVI – Hey Old Timer
I set out to make this rambling about a college paper I did on
the towns that made up my old school district. But I couldn’t find it. Then I
decided to do a review of the effective exercise of political power – or maybe
a serious chronicle of the mis-categorisation of the response to the COVID-19
pandemic… I also toyed with an article about a baseball game I had been to.
That seemed a bit too insubstantial.
Then, this morning, I awoke to the news that the President of
the United States had apparently contemplated having people directly ingest
disinfectant as a means of defeating the Corona virus.
Oh good God.
Please – nobody drink the bleach.
To hell with it - I’m doing the baseball article.
Specifically, I’m doing an article about the 1986 Old Timers
Game at Fenway Park. It comes to mind because, while going through and cleaning
out my desk at home (aren’t we all “going through and cleaning out our desks at
home” at the moment?) I happened across the program from that game. I was lucky
enough to be in attendance that day, and I’ve even written about certain
aspects of it before. Here is what I wrote on the occasion of the passing of
former Dodger great Ralph Branca:
Echoes of the Shot
In April of 1986 I moved to Boston and the Red Sox began a magic
season that saw them capture the American League pennant and then go on to the
World Series where I believe something happened - but I can’t quite recall what
it was. This was an ideal time to be a Sox fan in the Auld Towne as Fenway Park
was just as much a baseball shrine but wasn’t yet the tourist destination it
has become – in other words you could still get relatively cheap and good seats
for a game, especially if you knew someone at the ticket window. I did – and
during that year I managed to see the pennant clinching 7th game of the
championship series, the division clinching game where Roger Clemens ended up
riding a horse around the field (remember when we all still liked Roger?) and a
contest against the White Sox where I sat next to Jack Nicholson. (Me to my
mother “Ma – I’m sitting next to Jack Nicholson at Fenway…” Mom: “That’s great
Mike – make sure you get some golf tips”. Me (after a pause): “Ma, that’s Jack
Nicklaus…”). Anyway – all of those games were great but from a pure baseball
history standpoint nothing can top the game I saw on the 17th of May. That was
“Old Timers Day” at Fenway and I got to see Ted Williams come to bat (I don’t
care if it was an exhibition – that was something to see). I was also witness
to the last time the three baseball playing DiMaggio brothers appeared on a
ball field, Dom, Joe and lesser known Vince all were there. I also got a chance
to see a bunch of sixty year old women act like teenagers at a Justin Bieber
concert when a guy by the name of Tommy Holmes wandered past. It turns out
Holmes had been one of the Boston Braves’ most popular players back in the forties
and the ladies still remembered, even though the Braves hadn’t been in Boston
since the early ‘50’s. They love their baseball in Boston.
One of the day's other highlights came when two men stopped
right by my seat to pose for pictures together. There were a few people around
who realised what they were seeing, but for the most part I think the crowd
just thought these were another couple of old ballplayers who were there to
fill out the rosters. I knew better, for few players were more closely linked
in American literary, broadcasting, sporting and just general history than the
two men who were chatting in front of me. Dom DeLillo’s classic book
“Underworld” concerned their fateful meeting. The most played moment in sports
broadcasting revolved around them. The most iconic event in baseball history,
the “Shot heard ‘round the world” took place in 1951 as the result of their
interaction. They were Bobby Thomson and Ralph Branca, forever linked by fate,
standing a few feet away by the Fenway dugout.
Thomson was the batter who hit the famous home run that won the
pennant for the Giants that year, in the final inning of the final game of a
special playoff series that resulted from the fact the Giants had stormed back
to catch the Dodgers in the standings in the last month of the season, tying
them on the final day and bringing the battle down to this one, climactic, epic
moment. Here it is as described by Russ Hodges:
Thomson got the glory that afternoon, but Branca, as the pitcher
who threw the ball, is a story to be equally admired. He was terribly affected
by the event on the day. George Plimpton, in Ken Burns documentary “Baseball”
describes him as being stretched out “like cordwood”, prostrate with grief on
the clubhouse steps, a fact borne out by a famous photograph taken just after
the game. There was so much concern for Branca that a priest was called to
counsel him in the parking lot next to the stadium. “Why me, father, why me?”
Branca asked. The priest could only say that God must have chosen him because
he knew that he was strong enough to bear the burden of having thrown the
pitch.
I don’t know whether God chose him or not, but Branca certainly
bore the stigma with incredible grace. He and Thomson became friendly in the
years after the events of 1951 (as evidenced by their joint appearance in
Boston, 35 years later) and he never shied away from talking about what
happened that day. Branca went on to be a beloved figure, establishing himself
as a business leader, an ambassador for the game and one of the founders of a
charity that helps players who have fallen on hard times.
There is another story that is perhaps even more telling. In
1947 Branca had his best year with the Dodgers, winning 21 games. He also befriended
Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier that year and faced constant abuse
in doing so. Branca lived near Robinson and the two would drive together to and
from the games, a sign to all that Robinson was accepted by his teammates. On
opening day, with Robinson having faced death threats and amidst fears of his
being shot when he took the field, Ralph Branca made sure to stand, with his
enveloping 6’4” frame, next to Jackie Robinson on the first base line when the
teams were introduced. His brother asked “Ralph, what would have happened if
someone took a shot at Jackie and you got in the way?”
“I would have died a hero” he replied.
Yesterday, at age 90, Branca did exactly that.
Rest in Peace, Ralph Branca.
So I have a history with this game.
I wrote that Branca piece without the benefit of the program in
front of me, remembering the moments that it would be impossible to forget –
the DiMaggios, Teddy Ballgame, Branca and Thompson – and those ladies’ reaction
to Tommy Holmes.
But in looking back at the pages of the short commemorative
tribute that the Red Sox gave away to everyone who attended – I sure am glad I
kept it. The list of players that were there that day just blows me away – and
makes me wonder if it would be possible to replicate something like that these
days. Here is a cross section of just a few of the highlights not touched on
above:
Johnny Pesky, Bobby Doerr, Dom DiMaggio and Ted Williams:
Williams and DiMaggio have been talked about in other contexts
already, but in retrospect the addition of Pesky and Doerr, both of whom were
also members of the 1946 pennant winning squad that was being commemorated on
this day, is even more memorable than the DiMaggio brothers reunion. This is
because these four were to go on to be immortalised in David Halberstams’s
classic tale of friendship “The Teammates”.
Halberstam (Pulitzer Prize winning author of such classic
histories as “The Best and the Brightest” and “The Powers That Be”) was known
for taking time off from his “serious” books to pen sports centric works that
often ended up being nearly as well regarded. (Check out, “The Breaks of the
Game”, “October, 1964” or “The Education of a Coach” sometime). For “The
Teammates” Halberstam used the journey of Doerr, Pesky and Dimaggio to visit an
ailing Williams (for what they knew would be the last time they would all be
together) as a tableau for contemplating friendship, shared experiences and the
passage of time. It’s an extraordinary work, about men who would tell you they
were NOT extraordinary, but who clearly were.
Today the quartet have all passed on, with Bobby Doerr as the
last survivor. But they were all at Fenway that day in 1986, though not yet
linked as closely in the public eye as they would be following the 2003
publication of Halberstam’s classic tome. In a way they are still at Fenway – a
statue was erected following the book’s publication that greets visitors to the
ballpark (when there are visitors …).
Aside from these teammates the late ‘40’s and early ‘50’s were
well represented on the day, with such notables as Vic Raschi (named the
“Springfield Rifle” since he came from my birthplace of Springfield,
Massachusetts), Walt Dropo (a former Red Sox and winner of the 1950 Rookie of
the Year award), Warren Spahn, (along with Holmes an ex Boston Brave and a
Hall-of-Famer). I knew how great these guys had been – but I’d certainly never
seen them play. Watching them was a bit like viewing a living museum – but that
was OK, for there was another group of players to which I had a more direct
connection.
That’s because it was an old-timers GAME – not just an
old-timers day and that meant that the 1946 team wouldn’t be spending a lot of
time on the actual field of play. It was great to see Ted Williams, late into
his 60’s, at the plate and actually run down a fly ball in left field – but the
bulk of the play on that day would be left to a younger group of players. These
mostly hailed from the 1960’s and ‘70’s – and I HAD seen them play. I had very
distant memories of 1967 – and vivid memories of 1975 – at the time the last
two years for Red Sox pennant victories. Carl Yastrzemski had only retired
three years previously (and had played on both teams), and was supposed to be
there but didn’t make it. (Yaz isn’t that big on old-timers days even now – he
must’ve hated them when he could still remember facing the starting pitchers
for the actual game). Nonetheless there were plenty of notables from those
teams present – here are a few of my key memories of them on the day and as
players.
JIM LONBORG – “Gentleman” Jim was the ace of the 1967 team,
winning the Cy Young award that year and throwing a one-hitter and three-hitter
in the World Series before running out of gas in the seventh game. I remember
Lonborg as a player mainly through the endless repeats of the chaos that
surrounded him after he won the final game of the 1967 regular season. He was
nearly dismembered by the crowd as they literally tore his uniform to shreds.
We’ve been through bigger triumphs as Red Sox fans in the years since – 2004
was unbelievable in its story and scope – but I’m not sure that there has ever
been a more exuberant explosion of surprise, excitement and pure joy in Boston
than that which swept up Lonborg on that day. It was celebration without the
burden of the bogus “curse”, and it is worth those endless viewings. (Watch for
the shot at the end as the shirtless Lonborg is borne aloft in the sea of
fans):
The other way I knew Lonborg is that he ended up as the dentist
for a number of the people I went to school with. After his career was over he
relocated to Scituate and opened a practice in Hanover. The number of ex-Sox
who ended up staying in the area is amazing – Lynnfield, North Easton, Peabody,
Needham… these are guys who came from all over the country, but stuck around New
England, winters and all. At least a part of that has to be the fact that the
area does not discard its former players, but embraces them, makes them part of
their lives – and that matters. Ireland is a bit like that as well – if you
played for the 1965 inter-county team that made the provincial final – someone
will buy you a beer and have a chat about those days even now. That’s Boston
too – and the entire region – which kind of leads to the next player who was
there that day and who it was a thrill to see.
GEORGE SCOTT – Before we talk about the Boomer let’s talk a
little bit about Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Stuck out in the middle of the
Berkshires Pittsfield was, for years, the home of one of General Electric’s
largest manufacturing facilities and one of minor league baseball’s most unique
venues. Wahconah Park was situated in such a way that as evening fell games
would have to be interrupted for “sun delays” as the setting orb made it
impossible for the players to see. When the angle changed enough – play would
resume. The park was also located by a sort of swampy area, which for some
reason attracted local wildlife. Most notably one particular type of wildlife –
skunks. Skunks were known to wander on to the field of play mid-game, giving
rise to “skunk delays”. You just are not gonna move a skunk. Tell me all about
your honey-badgers, the all-time mammalian champion for not giving a f*ck is
the skunk. A skunk one time followed our dog in to our kitchen (after having
already sprayed said dog). My father simply held the door open for it to come
in and go out – there wasn’t much else to do. Skunks don’t worry about much
other than “station wagon cars” (and even for those they should probably worry
a bit more). Here is a video of a skunk going up against a bear:
Just like in baseball, the cubbies tend to lose a good bit.
But I’m getting off topic, which, as you’ll recall, is baseball.
Pittsfield loves baseball. Some even say (with LOTS more evidence than
Cooperstown can even imagine) that baseball was invented there.
The first inter-collegiate game was played in Pittsfield
(Amherst v. Williams, 1859) and numerous major leaguers hail from the region,
including Mark Belanger, Turk Wendell and Jeff Reardon (nearby Dalton). One of
them was even at the old-timers game – Tom Grieve. So, what player on the field
for this old-timers game do you think would have been the most popular in
Pittsfield?
I’ll tell you right now, Tom Grieve or no Tom Grieve, it was a
man from Greenville, Mississippi who, (up to that point in time) had spent
about six months in Pittsfield. George Scott, known as “the Boomer” (“Boomah”
in Bostonese) had won a minor league pennant and triple crown when playing in
Pittsfield in 1965 – and I don’t think any player ever had more of a hold on a
town’s heart than Scott did over Pittsfield.
I know this because I have a number of relatives from the greater
Pittsfield area, all of whom claim to have personally met George Scott, seen
Scott play or know first hand of someone who saw George Scott do the thing he
that he is second most famous for.
Eating.
You see, along with her husband one of my great aunts owned and
ran a diner in Pittsfield. The number of people I know who would tell me that
they saw George Scott eat a cheeseburger or six at Jimmy Frank’s Diner is
incalculable. Entire herds of cattle must have been sacrificed to satisfy the
Boomer’s ferocious appetite. Now, mind you, George Scott was a great eater, and
Frank’s Diner served great food (really great food – it was a classic) – so the
stories may be true. I do know that Scott eventually ended up back in
Pittsfield managing an independent minor league team, and that when he passed away
in 2013 no place mourned more than Pittsfield, Mass.
RICO PETROCELLI – When I was a kid I thought Rico Petrocelli was
a cinch for the Hall of Fame. This was not because of anything other than the
fact that he was Rico Petrocelli. Everyone liked Rico, Rico had once set a
record for home runs by a shortstop, Rico played third base for the Sox all
through the early to mid-‘70’s, Rico hit two home runs in Game 6 of the 1967
World Series, Rico had played in multiple All-Star games, Rico had been in a
fight at Yankee Stadium where his brother, a New York cop, had come on to the
field to help him out, Rico hit .308 in the 1975 World Series. Rico was
freakin’ RICO PETROCELLI.
Now, in today’s era of “Moneyball”, where stats are king, Rico’s
career breaks down like this:
WAR 39.1 AB 5390 H 1352 HR 210 BA .251 R 653 RBI 773 SB 10 OBP
.332 SLG .420 OPS .752 OPS+ 108
That means an average to good player, had some power, nothing
special, probably didn’t walk enough.
Stick your statistics up yer arse – we’re talkin’ about RICO
PETROCELLI.
LUIS TIANT – Let me tell you something. If Luis Tiant isn’t a
Hall of Famer, but Harold Baines is, then swallowing a bottle of Clorox just
might cure the COVID-19 bug.
I can’t say much about Luis that isn’t better said by just watching
him pitch – watch the motion on the last out of his classic 1975 World Series
game one shut-out win. They say that if you had a seat in Fenway, at one point
in time during a game Luis would look you right in the eye. On that last out I
think he winked at everyone. Here’s a link to his unique style.
Luis’ pitching speaks for itself, as do his statistics. However,
I can tell you the non-statistical argument for Luis’ greatness:
• Luis Tiant’s father was one of the great pitchers of his era –
but he never got a chance to play in the big leagues because of the color
barrier.
• His son and namesake strove to right this wrong and worked his
way through the minor leagues in an effort to get to where his father never
could.
• While on the verge of making it to the big show Luis placed a
call to his father in Cuba – during that call in September of 1961 Luis’ father
had to tell him not to return to Cuba – he would not be allowed back out and
there was nothing for him there.
• Some of Luis’ best friends from childhood were executed by a
Castro firing squad.
• He did not see his mother or father for 14 years and they did
not get a chance to see him or meet their grandchildren.
• Tiant’s career was very successful, winning an ERA title in
“The Year of the Pitcher” (1968), winning over 20 games for a not very good
Cleveland Indian team, but then he blew his arm out and was sent back to the
minors.
• He struggled for a couple of years and finally caught on with
the Red Sox, who brought him back full-time in 1972.
• Determined to keep playing on the chance his parents might finally
see him play – Tiant nearly pitched the Sox to the 1972 division title, had a
couple more great years, and then caught fire in the second half of 1975,
bringing the Sox a pennant.
• With the help of the U.S. government and Senator Ted Kennedy
Tiant’s father and mother were allowed out of Cuba in time to see their son
play in the World Series, where he won two of the gutsiest games ever thrown.
Luis’ father, who had been kept from playing due to discrimination, threw out
the ceremonial first pitch in that World Series. It was a strike.
• Watching Luis pitch at Fenway in those years was like going to
some weird combination of a Grateful Dead concert (especially in the
bleachers), the ballet and a baseball driven Hare Krishna chant-a-thon. It was
awesome.
Right now I hold the rather meaningless title of owning the most
extensive baseball related library in all of Ireland. One of the highlights is
Luis Tiant’s autobiography. Re-reading it and viewing the movie “The Lost Son
of Havana” only reinforce one indisputable fact:
Luis Tiant belongs in the Hall of Fame.
All these people were at that game and it remains one of the
unique events of my life as a baseball fan, and I am a VERY devoted baseball
fan. Those types of days depend upon shared experiences, collective events – crowds
and competitors. Here’s hoping they’re back safely - and soon.
There are no shortcuts to that – God knows I
wish there were. But the obligation we have to each other is to make sure that
we get as many people back to that state as we can. Some are saying we can get
there easily – that sacrifice and caution aren’t necessary. Don’t drink that
Kool-Aid. Or that Lysol.
Random Ramblings from the great lockdown of 2020 – Part XVII –
10 Albums
People are passing the time many different ways in these
strangest of days. Facebook is one of those way, and it is where I am first
posting these ramblings because I know I have a substantial captive audience
here. Just to make things clear, until everyone in my circle of friends has
read and “liked” all of these posts, the lockdown will continue. So we’re gonna
be here a while. Keep buying that toilet paper.
Just kidding.
Of course, posting these ridiculously long and often pointless
rambles is just one way of me exercising my mind that is barely a step ahead of
learning how to light my own farts and significantly behind painting the
downstairs bathroom. (This is my way of checking whether Margaret is actually
reading these). Reminiscing about the lost enjoyment of a Hostess pie, or
finding a video of a skunk taking on a bear helps pass the time. Other people
have other ways of doing the same sort of thing. I respect that.
Some of them are a little silly. Like trying to find out “What
‘80’s film star you would be”. Let’s just say there are a hell of a lot more
“Maverick’s from Top Gun” than I would have expected. Where are all the
Beetlejuices? (Or is it “Beetljii”)?
I particularly like the “challenges” that make their way around
the house. Seeing some of my friends posting 15 consecutive days of pictures
about what image best represents “being a mom” is kind of cool. Since I knew a
good many of these people before “being a mom” was on the radar the images
chosen are interesting – but almost always tend to positively reinforce my good
impressions of them.
That’s nice to see.
Here’s to the moms.
Another one that is along the same lines is the challenge to
post 10 consecutive days of album covers that have influenced you. This is
always without commentary – which is hardly in the nature of these posts. So -
I’m going to accept that challenge and post some album covers, links to songs
and commentary. Some of these will be based on an article that is in progress
on various members of the rock n’ roll hall of fame, others I’m just wingin’
it. Here goes (order is alphabetical):
The Draw the Line album cover is really underrated – drawn by Al
Hirschfeld, a master of line drawings who was known for embedding his daughter
Nina’s name in all of his works, it captures the band's perceived personalities
really well. Musically the title track is a favorite – but it was Aerosmith
itself that creates the impetus for this choice.
Sometimes it seems like there were two Aerosmiths, the ones that
existed in the 1970’s when “Walk This Way” and “Sweet Emotion” came out, and
the one that arose in the 80’s when they started putting out videos featuring
Alicia Silverstone. The thing is – while the band’s image was certainly
different between those two times (degenerate party animals versus reformed
sober rock icons), when you get right down to it the music wasn’t really that
different. You can listen to “Draw the Line” and see that the band that sings
it also sings “Shut Up and Dance”.
That is what makes Aerosmith admirable – despite the fact that
they were always very interested in commercial success (early in their career
they decided not to play clubs, preferring to be the backup act in arenas) they
didn’t hide that fact. This is, despite the middle class sneering at those who
“are in it for the money, not the art”, something that has always been at the
core of rock ‘n roll. Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis
didn’t primarily see rock ‘n roll as a means to express their inner artistic
being (although it was). They saw it as a way to get rich and famous. Elvis
wasn’t buying pink Cadillacs and outfitting jungle rooms to make a sort of
surrealistic Daliesque life for himself. He did it because he was a poor white
kid from Tupelo Mississippi who saw this as what rich people did. There is a
great story about some early rocker (it might have been Screamin’ Jay Hawkins)
passing Little Richard’s car pulled over to the side of the highway after a
gig. They stopped to see what the trouble was only to find Richard standing
over the trunk of his car burying his face in the fistfuls of cash he'd
received as a fee.
Don’t tell me those guys weren’t in it for the money – they sure
as hell were, and if you’d grown up poor, black (and, in Richard’s case, gay)
in the South you’d be in it for the money too. As long as that desire comes
from the kind of desperation associated with poverty rather than a more crass
sort of greed then it’s very hard to criticise. For instance, The Beatles were,
for the most part, distinctly poorer than the guys who made up the Rolling
Stones. The Stones have always been hailed (and deservedly so) for their
willingness to adhere to the traditions of American Blues. The Beatles,
meanwhile, were sometimes criticised for their willingness to stray into
poppier, more commercial, sorts of releases. The Stones would cover “Little Red
Rooster” while The Beatles would cover “’Til There Was You”. But look – the Beatles
were like Little Richard standing over the trunk of that car – they were poor
(and three were single parent) kids from the backwater of Liverpool – hell yeah
they wanted to be commercially successful and anybody who didn’t like that
could piss off. When you’re poor the annoyance of being critically poo-pooed
for song choice didn’t override the spectre of what actual poverty meant. So,
while the Stones music might indeed be more authentic, The Beatles music is
probably more honest. All of which is a roundabout way to say that I think
Aerosmith is an “honest” band as well.
Big Joe Turner – Shake, Rattle & Roll
Off “40 Years of Atlantic Rhythm and Blues”
I found this compilation album (one of a series of 8) when I
first moved to Boston. Atlantic would issue a new one every couple of weeks –
and I was hooked right away. Everything from Ray Charles, to the Drifters,
through to Aretha and even gems from Barbara Lewis and a (disguised) James
Brown could be found. It was on here that I first ran in to the incomparable
Big Joe Turner.
The minor league hockey team in Springfield Massachusetts was
known, variously, as the Indians, Kings, Indians again and Falcons when I was
growing up. Whatever their name the one thing they seemed to have in common was
that during warm ups they would play “Shake, Rattle and Roll”. It was a great
song to skate to, since it has kind of a rolling beat that makes you feel like
skating. The thing was – the version they played was the Bill Haley one, which,
until I heard this one, was what I thought of as the only version of this song.
Boy was I wrong.
Big Joe Turner is one of the best of the “big band” influences
on rock and roll, he had a voice that was dynamic enough to stand up to an
entire array of backing instruments – sort of like Louis Jordan or Louis Prima.
But the reason I chose this song to represent him over any of his other great
ones is because the lyrics, to me, seem to represent the difference between
“white” rock and roll and “black” rock ‘n roll. And, unlike the differences
between some of the more egregious cover versions (hello Pat Boone) this has
nothing to do with the differences between the artists. Bill Haley – obviously,
could play a great rock ‘n roll song and had a decent voice. But just compare
the words they sang.
Big Joe: “When you wear those dresses the sun come shinin’
through. When you wear those dresses, the sun come shinin’ through. Can’t
believe my eyes all that mess belong to you”.
Bill Haley: “You wear those dresses, your hair done up so nice,
you wear those dresses, your hair done up so nice, you look so warm but your
heart is cold as ice”.
Bit of a difference there – and that’s only one of the examples.
The “black” version is obviously more sexually suggestive and the context makes
a hell of a lot more sense (who talks about “hair done up so nice” in a song
like this. Especially when, in the Turner version, the first line is “get out
of that bed”). The Haley version is musically great but lyrically tame.
Milt Gabler produced the Haley version, just as he produced
“Rock Around the Clock”. The difference was – with “Shake” he knew he could
have a hit – when he produced “Rock Around the Clock” he thought it was a
simple B side that no one would listen to. Because he knew he had a hit on his
hands with “Shake” he tried to be careful to get things by the censors. The
result weakened the song lyrically but probably got it heard by more people.
Haley and Turner liked each other – they later played together –
so this just shows how even among those who had no axes to grind or bad
intentions the politics of race injected itself everywhere into the early story
of this music.
Bob Seger – Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man
Off “Live Bullet”
Of all the members of the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Bob Seger might
have the most compelling story. He was, for a number of years, a huge star – in
Detroit. Don’t sell that short – Detroit was the home of Motown and a number of
other stars got their start there. Some even got their start with Seger – Glen
Frey of the Eagles, for instance, played in Seger’s band. But it didn’t seem
like things would ever happen outside of Detroit for Seger – even though every
time he had a concert there he would sell the damn thing out, the people who
showed up would have the time of their lives and the atmosphere was incredible.
As a sort of historical obligation (“someone should really
capture what this is like”), sort of last gasp “well we’ve tried everything
else” and sort of trend jumping business move (live albums were the rage following
“Frampton Comes Alive”) Seger and his label decided to record one of his shows
and put out a double live album in 1976. The Detroit Cobo Arena dutifully sold
out in September of 1975 and Seger put on a typically great show – playing
songs that Detroit knew by heart and could sing along with but which had barely
registered anywhere else – and, damned if it didn’t work. The album became a
multi-platinum phenomenon and there wasn’t a house party held in white America
where you couldn’t hear “Turn the Page”, “Get Out of Denver” “Beautiful Loser”
or this song (believe me – I was at ‘em).
Thereafter Seger became a huge star, hit album after hit album,
one iconic anthem after another. Any time you were tempted to hold his stardom
against him, when a commercial using one of his songs would come on or Tom
Cruise would slide by in his underwear, you’d have to check yourself and
realize – “Hey – the guy earned it”.
Fleetwood Mac – Monday Morning
Off “Fleetwood Mac”
Which day of the week has had the most songs written about it?
Before doing any research (and now I will, at some point), I’d have to say
Monday is right up there with Saturday when it comes to vying for this title.
There is Monday, Monday by the Mamas and the Papas (which may
actually count twice), “Blue Monday” by Fats Domino, “Stormy Monday Blues” done
by Count Basie and others, Come Monday by Jimmy Buffet (who should get
consideration for the RRHOF), The Carpenters’ “Rainy Days and Mondays”, “Manic
Monday” by the Bangles, and, to put it bluntly “I Don’t Like Mondays” by the
Boomtown Rats.
There are other Monday songs, enough so that I can only see
Saturday as providing substantive competition for Monday in terms of sheer
volume. Sunday’s up there too, and Friday’s in with a shout, but I’d think
Monday, for its sheer number of “tough to get up for work on a Monday after the
weekend” songs and Saturday for its “I don’t have to get up in the morning so
let’s party” songs are going to win this race.
If there was a weekday hall of fame I’d vote as follows: “Sunday
Bloody Sunday” U2; “Monday Morning”, Fleetwood Mac; “Tuesday Afternoon”, Moody
Blues; “Wednesday Morning, 3 AM”, Simon & Garfunkle; (Thursday) Here’s Why
I Did Not Go To Work Today, Harry Nilsson; “Friday I’m In Love”, The Cure;
“Saturday Night”, The Bay City Rollers (no apologies) and then “Sunday Morning
Comin’ Down”, Kris Kristofferson, just to get the week started again.
Green Day – When I Come Around
Off “Dookie”
In 1994 I went on a vacation with a few other guys which
consisted of something that I’d never even be able to consider now. We loaded
up our backpacks and headed out for upstate New York where we hiked the
mountains in the Adirondacks and, at some point, ended up at the “Woodstock 25”
concert which was a huge event where we were able to see an enormous number of
bands while camping out in a field with 200,000 other people. Santana, Bob
Dylan, Aerosmith, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Cranberries, Sheryl Crow,
Peter Gabriel, a bunch of others and, as you’ve already figured out, since I’m writing
this particular entry, Green Day played on one stage or another through the
weekend. It wasn’t a defining moment for a generation (thank God) but it was
fun and one of the highlights was the Green Day concert. It had started to get
a bit muddy in front of the stage, mainly because of the sprinklers that had
been set up to keep the crowd cool (the really bad rain would come later,
turning the vast crowd into “mud people”) and it was easy to tear up the turf
and toss it up towards the stage. Green Day became the main focus of this, and
grass missiles flew towards the stage as they played. It was mostly in good fun
and looked a lot wilder on TV (when I saw it later) than it did if you were
there.
Unfortunately for those watching on MTV it created an image of
chaos that wasn’t really that conducive to replication. A week or so after I
got back Green Day attempted to give a free concert at the Hatch Shell in
Boston down on the esplanade. Since I thought they’d done a great job at
Woodstock I decided to go see the band again. So, evidently, did about eighty
thousand others. In an effort to top what they had seen on TV at Woodstock the
attendees decided to shower the stage with whatever they could put their hands
on – and, here’s a hint, it’s a lot easier to find something to throw in the
middle of a city than it is in the middle of a field in upstate New York.
Bottles, full cans of beer (why waste the beer?), chairs, Frisbees, rocks,
fruit, babies (OK maybe not babies) – everything within reach started flying at
the band on stage. Many of the objects fell well short, crashing into the crowd
at the front of the stage, who would throw it back again. Bad scene. Just shows
that maybe it’s silly to chase that amazing concert experience too hard – just
let it happen and it might come to you – but you can’t re-create the unique.
That’s why it’s called "unique".
OK – gonna break this one up
in to two parts…
And we’re back.
Random ramblings from the great lock down of 2020 Part XVII 2.0.
I’m just
running through a list of ten albums that have influenced me by completely
disregarding the requirements of the Facebook challenge – which is to post them
over 10 days, without commentary, while choosing a friend to take up the
challenge each day, while eating a bagel, while hanging upside down inside a
closet. HA! I’m commenting, doing it in two days, not choosing anyone else to
do it, I already ate a bagel and OK, I’m hanging upside down but from a tree in
my back garden. So there. I consider this non-conformity a victory over Mark
Zuckerberg.
Let’s continue
with our march down the hit parade.
I
Saw Her Again
From the
Album: The Mamas and Papas
The
thing about The Mamas & the Papas was that the songs sounded so cheery but
were about such bleak or mean spirited topics. “California Dreamin’” is about a
guy walking around a dead landscape in a near suicidal fugue state (“all the
leaves are brown, and the sky is gray…”), “12:30 (Young Girls Are Coming to the
Canyon)” is supposed to be about the young runaways that stumble home after
being passed from rock star to rock star, “Go Where You Wanna Go” is a bitter
break up song and “Monday, Monday” “finds me cryin’, all of the time”.
The only
other band I know of that is so uniquely downbeat while sounding upbeat are The
Police, who manage to sing about suicide on “Can’t Stand Losing You”,
unrequited love for a prostitute in “Roxanne”, utter despair in “Bring On the
Night”, statutory rape on “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” -and all the while
keeping everyone dancing.
Woo-hoo!
Let’s have a party. (You hear about people making “Every Step You Take” their
wedding song without realizing it’s the chronicle of an obsessed stalker).
This
Mama’s and Papa’s tune might be the most bizarre of all. It’s the story of how
one band member, Denny Doherty, had a short but torrid affair with fellow
bandmate Michelle Phillips (who just happened to be the wife of band leader
John Phillips at the time). It was (get this) CO-WRITTEN by that same John
Phillips and Doherty who both seemed OK with things. (If you look at a picture
of what Michelle Phillips looked like back then you’d know how Doherty could be
OK with it).
One
thing to note – the strange, stuttering false start to the final “I saw her… I
saw her again last night…” verse was an actual mistake in editing. When the
producer, Lou Adler, heard it he thought it sounded good – so he just kept it
in the record.
The
thing is – the incredible harmonies meant that this group, at its best, could
probably sing the phone book and make it a hit. The strange juxtaposition of
the music and lyrics is an interesting thing to note – but the sound is really
the thing here.
Hangin’
on the Telephone -Blondie
Off
“Parallel Lines”
OK – so
we talked about Michelle Phillips, who might just have been the best-looking
female star of the 1960’s. There are few other contenders and I’m actually even
happier that Phillips shared the stage with Cass Elliot, who, while not winning
any beauty titles was able to make it on pure talent. Sometimes I worry that
that consideration might be slipping.
I think
in the seventies there was still the need to have talent before being accepted
as a “star”. This doesn’t mean that somehow the sex appeal of the performer has
no relevance to the performance. This is rock ‘n roll, after all. It’s just
that having talent should be enough and having both should be a bonus.
So – in
the ‘70’s who, on the female side, provided the biggest bonus? Linda Ronstadt
is underrated, Pat Benatar was more 1980’s, Carly Simon was in the Hilary Swank
category of splitting people into the “she’s incredibly hot – she’s incredibly
not” corners. But Debbie Harry was the real deal. The image of her posed behind
a microphone at CBGB’s validated New Wave cool and the fact that the band’s
music was great just made the iconic status even clearer. Loved the New York
accent as well…”Hawl, Whawl, Cawl” indeed.
This
next song is personal. When I moved to Boston in 1986 I had no idea if I was
going to know how to survive in a big city. I had lived with family, in a dorm
or, on camping trips, a tent my entire life. I now had to find a job, an
apartment, a way to feed myself, a means of travel – and, not without some consideration,
an identity. I had friends but honestly – coming from as small a town, school
and college as I did - I had no clue as to whether I’d sink or swim in a bigger
pool.
I got
the job, found a (shitty) apartment, managed to get back and forth to work and
also managed to feed myself. That identity thing – that took a while. I didn’t
really know where to hang out, what to do on the weekends, what constituted a
“cool” place. I watched a lot of baseball games and went to a lot of movies for
a while.
At work
I spent a good bit of time hanging around the mail room – because, as a lowly
paralegal at a large firm I couldn’t really throw my feet up on a partner’s
desk and say “How’s the old lady Bob?” and the mail room people were frankly –
more interesting. They were funny, creative, seemed to know things and wouldn’t
tell me to get my feet off the desk and never call their wife “the old lady”
ever again.
One day
word went out that a few of the guys in the mailroom had a band, and they would
be playing a club called “Titty De Barra’s” on Friday night. Thinking this
might be some kind of strange Boston Irish strip club I asked where the “Titty
Bar” was and, after some translation, was told that it was called “T.T. the
Bear’s” and it was in Cambridge.
Of
course it was.
On the
day I took the Red Line to Cambridge, proceeded in to the club, greeting the
people I knew and waiting for the music to start. My expectations were low – I
mean – what are the chances that the guys from the mailroom would be involved
in anything that was all that notable?
Then the
music started.
At some
point during that set – and it wasn’t like the hand of God descended or
anything like that – but at some point – I knew these guys were good. Really
good, and that I was fully confident that I was right in that conclusion. In a
strange way – being that confident, that I had been able to go out, meet up
with some random people at work, make my way to a tiny little club and find a
band that I knew was really talented – meant I was going to be OK in the city.
I’d like
to report that the band went on to superstardom, that when you turn the radio
on you are very likely to hear their monster hit from 1987, that their tour
last year was cancelled when two of the band members came down with the gout
but that they are hoping to get back out there when the world opens up – but
no. The music business is fickle, and random label failures, changes in A&R
personnel and general fate meant there was never that HUGE breakthrough.
They
were signed to a major recording contract however – and released two highly
regarded albums that spawned songs that continue to get covered. The core of
fans that followed them still do so to this day – there’s even a Facebook
group. That’s because, like me, they knew, THEY KNEW, that The Cavedogs were
the best fucking band in Boston and, despite the way history unravelled,
Seattle as well, thank you very much.
The
Cavedogs - Tayter Country (From “Joy Rides For Shut-Ins”)
Screw
it, I’m posting two songs – here’s “Leave Me Alone”
Little
side note about that mail room. That was probably the single most talented mail
room in all recorded history. In addition to the Cavedogs there were several
other accomplished musicians, a guy named Joe who went on to be a writer for
various T.V. shows, and there was a comedian who worked there for a while as
well. I remember going through Harvard Square a while after he’d left the
mailroom trade and glimpsing him through the open door of one of the area's
many clubs. He’d started his own troupe – and they were rehearsing – so I
stopped, said hello and watched the rehearsal. I think they were doing
something that was a spoof of the freeze-frames from “To Sir With Love” and
just the banter was enough to make me realize that this guy was really talented
as well. That was only reinforced when I went back to watch a few performances.
Today you know David Cross from “Mr. Show” and as Tobias Funke (please
pronounce that correctly) from “Arrested Development”.
It just
goes to show you young’uns starting out – you might be better off hanging by
the mailroom door than popping your feet up on the partner’s desk. Things might
just be a bit more interesting down there.
(And
now, because I feel guilty not having a clip with Mark Rivers on lead vocal,
one more video which includes a bit of an interview with the band.)
The next
two songs/albums are kind of tied together. To get the full flavor let’s touch
on a couple of topics beforehand. First – a little bit about the concept of
“answer songs”.
“Answer
songs”, or “Answer records” first became prominent amongst R&B artists in
the ‘50’s – for instance, after Big Mama Thornton recorded “Hound Dog” (which
was later covered by some white guy with a funny name) Rufus Thomas responded
with “Bear Cat”
Even
earlier Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land” was a response to Irving
Berlin’s “God Bless America”. Some artists even responded to their own songs –
for example, “Judy’s Turn to Cry” was Lesley Gore answering her own “It’s My
Party”. Things got kind of nasty when John Lennon answered Paul McCartney’s
“Too Many People” with the vicious “How Do You Sleep?” (They both later
regretted it). One of the angriest, and most famous, “answer songs” that
directly references the prior artist is Lynyrd Skynrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama”
which called out Neil Young for “Southern Man”. There are scores of other
examples – but keep that one in mind.
Next,
let’s consider an annual event of great global importance. I’m speaking, of
course, of The Blandford Fair, held every year on Labor Day Weekend in,
coincidentally enough, Blandford, Massachusetts.
Now, for
my non-American followers Labor Day is the final big holiday of the summer,
always held on the first weekend of September. It used to be that after Labor
Day all the kids would go back to school (some of them sneak in a bit earlier
now) and the summer holidays would end. Typically, in most parts of the
country, the Labor Day holiday is used for a final big outing to the beach, or
a neighborhood barbeque – but if you were lucky enough to grow up in the
Hilltowns of Massachusetts, in particular the burgeoning metropolis of
Blandford (population around 1000) – Labor Day weekend meant (and means) the
fair – a three day extravaganza involving carnival rides, a midway, music acts,
tractor, horse and oxen pulls, horse shows and booths selling exotic foods like
hamburgers, hot dogs, American chop suey, cotton candy (candy floss),
sno-cones, candy apples and other things guaranteed to make you sick and then
run back for more.
When you
were a kid you spent the weekend at the fair, working at places like “the Boy
Scout booth” – later parking cars, or just hanging with friends, watching the
bands, admiring the way some of the girls wore those riding breeches for the
horse show – there was always something to do.
One of
the things I remember best about the fair was how it would end. On Monday night
– the evening of the Labor Day holiday – the midway would begin to be
disassembled as the operators of the games and rides prepared to move on to the
next location. The hawker of the candy apples and candy floss would call the
kids who had worked some of the other booths over to hand them the leftovers
for free. The country band would finish up their final set and begin to break
down and pack up. All weekend it would have been a summertime affair. You would
go to the fair in shorts and tee-shirts -even on the rainy days it would be a
SUMMER rain. But on Monday night – as if someone flipped a switch – it would
get colder as the sun went down. Your mom would show up with a sweat-shirt and
say “It seems a bit cool tonight” – and you’d put it on – because it did,
indeed, seem colder. You’d realize that it was getting dark – and it wasn’t
that late. There was school in the next day or two. Someone, somewhere, had,
indeed, flipped a switch – and another summer was over.
That was
the fair. It seems hard to imagine now that I only went to about ten of them –
they were such a big deal at the time. But, as you got older and college, and
then life, pulled you away - those days became a memory.
You like
to think that such memories are unique – who else could have had that sort of
experience?
Well,
with these next couple of songs I think there is some degree of definitive
proof that there are quite a few who would have, if not Blandford Fairs in
their past – at least the equivalent. Based solely upon the artists it seems
safe to say they have such things in Canada anyway.
The
first, “Sugar Mountain” is a song by Neil Young that appears on his collection
“Decade” but was actually begun by him back in 1964, when he was 19 years old,
and recorded when he was about 21. It’s a rather bleak remembrance of a
childhood spent going to something very much like the Blandford Fair, with “the
barkers and the coloured balloons”, where there were friends, and candy floss
and it was a bit magical.
At least
until you’re 20 years old – because “you can’t be 20, on Sugar Mountain”. Neil,
through a series of events and triggers seems to be pining for his lost youth
at the advanced age of 21. Look – that may sound ridiculous when said in
isolation – but for Neil Young to be able to grasp at such an early age that
“Hey – something is slipping away here” is actually quite prescient and
knowing. You had to be pretty tuned in to pick up on that at a time when, let’s
face it, we are all usually more aware of things that are opening up to us
rather than doors that are closing. So - this is a great song and to me
captures the feeling of certain Monday evenings at the beginning of September better
than any other.
Still –
it is a bit of a Debbie Downer, and one of Neil Young’s friends thought so as
well. Remember “answer songs”?
His
fellow Canadian Joni Mitchell says this about how she reacted when she first
heard the song:
"In
1965 I was up in Canada, and there was a friend of mine up there who had just
left a rock'n'roll band (...) he had just newly turned 21, and that meant he
was no longer allowed into his favourite haunt, which was kind of a
teeny-bopper club and once you're over 21 you couldn't get back in there
anymore; so he was really feeling terrible because his girlfriends and
everybody that he wanted to hang out with, his band could still go there, you
know, but it's one of the things that drove him to become a folk singer was
that he couldn't play in this club anymore. 'Cause he was over the hill. (...)
So he wrote this song that was called "Oh to live on sugar mountain"
which was a lament for his lost youth. (...) And I thought, God, you know, if
we get to 21 and there's nothing after that, that's a pretty bleak future, so I
wrote a song for him, and for myself just to give me some hope. It's called The
Circle Game."
So
that’s my final song, “The Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell off “Ladies of the
Canyon”. To give us some hope. It’s about fairs, and rides (a carousel) and how
the seasons go “’round and ‘round”, how everything old will be new again and that,
perhaps, you can go back to Sugar Mountain. There’s gonna be another Blandford
Fair and some kid is going to get that free candy apple on Monday night. Good
job, Joni.
Hope to
see you all at the fair when we get let out.
Random Ramblings from
the great lock down of 2020 – Part XVIII – A Sap’s Fables
What did I pull down from the bookshelves today but a copy of
Aesop’s Fables, those bits of wisdom that have come down to us from a (perhaps)
mythological figure who lived in or about 600 B.C. Aesop imparted his learnings
by way of short little stories that often contained morals or epigrams at the
end.
This got me to wondering – if the current occupant of the White
House were to be told these stories what message would he take away from the
tales? Would this approach to messaging, which while short often extends to
over 140 characters, perhaps serve to clarify what DJT was trying to say? Would
it help to convey the sarcasm that so often seems lost on the clamoring media?
Just wonderin’ - so I conducted a little thought experiment…
THE BELLING OF THE CAT:
The Mice once called a meeting to decide on a plan to free themselves of their enemy, the Cat. At least they wished to find some way of knowing when she was coming, so they might have time to run away. Indeed, something had to be done, for they lived in such constant fear of her claws that they hardly dared stir from their dens by night or day.
The Mice once called a meeting to decide on a plan to free themselves of their enemy, the Cat. At least they wished to find some way of knowing when she was coming, so they might have time to run away. Indeed, something had to be done, for they lived in such constant fear of her claws that they hardly dared stir from their dens by night or day.
Many plans were discussed, but none of them was thought good
enough. At last a very young Mouse got up and said:
"I have a plan that seems very simple, but I know it will
be successful.
All we have to do is to hang a bell about the Cat's neck. When
we hear the bell ringing we will know immediately that our enemy is
coming."
All the Mice were much surprised that they had not thought of
such a plan before. But in the midst of the rejoicing over their good fortune,
an old Mouse arose and said:
"I will say that the plan of the young Mouse is very good.
But let me ask one question: Who will bell the Cat?"
DJT – “OH THIS IS EASY – THE MEXICANS WILL BELL THE CAT – AND
THEY WILL PAY FOR IT…”
THE TOWN MOUSE & THE COUNTRY MOUSE
A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. For lunch the Country Mouse served wheat stalks, roots, and acorns, with a dash of cold water for drink. The Town Mouse ate very sparingly, nibbling a little of this and a little of that, and by her manner making it very plain that she ate the simple food only to be polite.
A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. For lunch the Country Mouse served wheat stalks, roots, and acorns, with a dash of cold water for drink. The Town Mouse ate very sparingly, nibbling a little of this and a little of that, and by her manner making it very plain that she ate the simple food only to be polite.
After the meal the friends had a long talk, or rather the Town
Mouse talked about her life in the city while the Country Mouse listened. They
then went to bed in a cozy nest in the hedgerow and slept in quiet and comfort
until morning. In her sleep the Country Mouse dreamed she was a Town Mouse with
all the luxuries and delights of city life that her friend had described for
her. So the next day when the Town Mouse asked the Country Mouse to go home
with her to the city, she gladly said yes.
When they reached the mansion in which the Town Mouse lived, they found on the table in the dining room the leavings of a very fine banquet. There were sweetmeats and jellies, pastries, delicious cheeses, indeed, the most tempting foods that a Mouse can imagine. But just as the Country Mouse was about to nibble a dainty bit of pastry, she heard a Cat mew loudly and scratch at the door. In great fear the Mice scurried to a hiding place, where they lay quite still for a long time, hardly daring to breathe. When at last they ventured back to the feast, the door opened suddenly and in came the servants to clear the table, followed by the House Dog.
The Country Mouse stopped in the Town Mouse's den only long enough to pick up her carpet bag and umbrella.
"You may have luxuries and dainties that I have not," she said as she hurried away, "but I prefer my plain food and simple life in the country with the peace and security that go with it."
DJT – “OK THEN - GO BACK TO YOUR SHITHOLE COUNTRY, COUNTRY
MOUSE”.
THE FOX & THE GRAPES
A Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox's mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them.
A Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox's mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them.
The bunch hung from a high branch, and the Fox had to jump for
it. The first time he jumped he missed it by a long way. So he walked off a
short distance and took a running leap at it, only to fall short once more.
Again and again he tried, but in vain.
Now he sat down and looked at the grapes in disgust.
"What a fool I am," he said. "Here I am wearing
myself out to get a bunch of sour grapes that are not worth gaping for."
And off he walked very, very scornfully.
DJT “AGAIN EASY – TREMENDOUSLY EASY – YOU GET THE MEXICAN’S TO
PICK THE GRAPES, DON’T PAY THEM, AND THEN DEPORT THEM BACK TO MEXICO.”
THE WOLF & THE CRANE
A Wolf had been feasting too greedily, and a bone had stuck crosswise in his throat. He could get it neither up nor down, and of course he could not eat a thing. Naturally that was an awful state of affairs for a greedy Wolf.
A Wolf had been feasting too greedily, and a bone had stuck crosswise in his throat. He could get it neither up nor down, and of course he could not eat a thing. Naturally that was an awful state of affairs for a greedy Wolf.
So away he hurried to the Crane. He was sure that she, with her
long neck and bill, would easily be able to reach the bone and pull it out.
"I will reward you very handsomely," said the Wolf,
"if you pull that bone out for me."
The Crane, as you can imagine, was very uneasy about putting her
head in a Wolf's throat. But she was grasping in nature, so she did what the
Wolf asked her to do.
When the Wolf felt that the bone was gone, he started to walk
away.
"But what about my reward!" called the Crane
anxiously.
"What!" snarled the Wolf, whirling around.
"Haven't you got it? Isn't it enough that I let you take your head out of
my mouth without snapping it off?"
DJT - “GO WOLFIE – JUST LIKE CANADA – THEY SHOULD BE HAPPY WE
HAVEN’T INVADED – SO WEAK, INCREDIBLY WEAK, NOW GIVE ME THOSE RESPIRATORS”.
THE OWL & THE GRASSHOPPER
The Owl always takes her sleep during the day. Then after sundown, when the rosy light fades from the sky and the shadows rise slowly through the wood, out she comes ruffling and blinking from the old hollow tree. Now her weird "hoo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo" echoes through the quiet wood, and she begins her hunt for the bugs and beetles, frogs and mice she likes so well to eat.
The Owl always takes her sleep during the day. Then after sundown, when the rosy light fades from the sky and the shadows rise slowly through the wood, out she comes ruffling and blinking from the old hollow tree. Now her weird "hoo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo" echoes through the quiet wood, and she begins her hunt for the bugs and beetles, frogs and mice she likes so well to eat.
Now there was a certain old Owl who had become very cross and
hard to please as she grew older, especially if anything disturbed her daily
slumbers. One warm summer afternoon as she dozed away in her den in the old oak
tree, a Grasshopper nearby began a joyous but very raspy song. Out popped the
old Owl's head from the opening in the tree that served her both for door and
for window.
"Get away from here, sir," she said to the Grasshopper.
"Have you no manners? You should at least respect my age and leave me to
sleep in quiet!"
But the Grasshopper answered saucily that he had as much right
to his place in the sun as the Owl had to her place in the old oak. Then he
struck up a louder and still more rasping tune.
The wise old Owl knew quite well that it would do no good to
argue with the Grasshopper, nor with anybody else for that matter. Besides, her
eyes were not sharp enough by day to permit her to punish the Grasshopper as he
deserved. So she laid aside all hard words and spoke very kindly to him.
"Well sir," she said, "if I must stay awake, I am
going to settle right down to enjoy your singing. Now that I think of it, I
have a wonderful wine here, sent me from Olympus, of which I am told Apollo
drinks before he sings to the high gods. Please come up and taste this
delicious drink with me. I know it will make you sing like Apollo
himself."
The foolish Grasshopper was taken in by the Owl's flattering
words. Up he jumped to the Owl's den, but as soon as he was near enough so the
old Owl could see him clearly, she pounced upon him and ate him up.
DJT – “OBVIOUSLY, THIS MEANS THAT YOU SHOULD NOT DRINK ALCOHOL –
I NEVER HAVE. IN FACT, MY FRIEND VLADIMIR PUTIN WAS TELLING ME HOW MUCH HE
ADMIRED ME FOR THAT - AND HE ASKED ME TO COME OVER TO HIS PLACE FOR DINNER AS SOON
AS WE CAN TRAVEL. CAN’T WAIT…”
THE OAK & THE REEDS
A Giant Oak stood near a brook in which grew some slender Reeds. When the wind blew, the great Oak stood proudly upright with its hundred arms uplifted to the sky. But the Reeds bowed low in the wind and sang a sad and mournful song.
A Giant Oak stood near a brook in which grew some slender Reeds. When the wind blew, the great Oak stood proudly upright with its hundred arms uplifted to the sky. But the Reeds bowed low in the wind and sang a sad and mournful song.
"You have reason to complain," said the Oak. "The
slightest breeze that ruffles the surface of the water makes you bow your
heads, while I, the mighty Oak, stand upright and firm before the howling
tempest."
"Do not worry about us," replied the Reeds. "The
winds do not harm us. We bow before them and so we do not break. You, in all
your pride and strength, have so far resisted their blows. But the end is coming."
As the Reeds spoke a great hurricane rushed out of the north. The
Oak stood proudly and fought against the storm, while the yielding Reeds bowed
low. The wind redoubled in fury, and all at once the great tree fell, torn up
by the roots, and lay among the pitying Reeds.
DJT - “OF COURSE YOU ALL REMEMBER THE TREMENDOUS ALABAMA
HURRICANE, IN WHICH I STOOD LIKE A TREE, ONLY STRONGER, AND HOW I GAVE PAPER
TOWELS TO THE HURRICANE VICTIMS IN THE FOREIGN COUNTRY OF PUERTO RICO – JUST
HAVE TO STAND TALL, LIKE THAT TREE, EXCEPT TALLER, JUST AMAZINGLY TALL…”
THE CROW & THE PITCHER
In a spell of dry weather, when the Birds could find very little to drink, a thirsty Crow found a pitcher with a little water in it. But the pitcher was high and had a narrow neck, and no matter how he tried, the Crow could not reach the water. The poor thing felt as if he must die of thirst.
In a spell of dry weather, when the Birds could find very little to drink, a thirsty Crow found a pitcher with a little water in it. But the pitcher was high and had a narrow neck, and no matter how he tried, the Crow could not reach the water. The poor thing felt as if he must die of thirst.
Then an idea came to him. Picking up some small pebbles, he
dropped them into the pitcher one by one. With each pebble the water rose a
little higher until at last it was near enough so he could drink.
DJT – “I DON’T GET IT”.
THE TWO GOATS
Two Goats, frisking gayly on the rocky steeps of a mountain valley, chanced to meet, one on each side of a deep chasm through which poured a mighty mountain torrent. The trunk of a fallen tree formed the only means of crossing the chasm, and on this not even two squirrels could have passed each other in safety. The narrow path would have made the bravest tremble. Not so our Goats. Their pride would not permit either to stand aside for the other.
Two Goats, frisking gayly on the rocky steeps of a mountain valley, chanced to meet, one on each side of a deep chasm through which poured a mighty mountain torrent. The trunk of a fallen tree formed the only means of crossing the chasm, and on this not even two squirrels could have passed each other in safety. The narrow path would have made the bravest tremble. Not so our Goats. Their pride would not permit either to stand aside for the other.
One set her foot on the log. The other did likewise. In the
middle they met horn to horn. Neither would give way, and so they both fell, to
be swept away by the roaring torrent below.
DJT – “GOOD FOR THOSE GOATS – NEVER ADMIT YOU’RE WRONG”.
And now one from Aesop himself, who was actually pretty sharp…
THE GNAT & THE BULL
A Gnat flew over the meadow with much buzzing for so small a creature and settled on the tip of one of the horns of a Bull. After he had rested a short time, he made ready to fly away. But before he left he begged the Bull's pardon for having used his horn for a resting place.
A Gnat flew over the meadow with much buzzing for so small a creature and settled on the tip of one of the horns of a Bull. After he had rested a short time, he made ready to fly away. But before he left he begged the Bull's pardon for having used his horn for a resting place.
"You must be very glad to have me go now," he said.
"It's all the same to me," replied the Bull. "I
did not even know you were there."
AESOP: WE ARE OFTEN OF GREATER IMPORTANCE IN OUR OWN EYES THAN
IN THE EYES OF OUR NEIGHBOR. THE SMALLER THE MIND THE GREATER THE CONCEIT.
Random Ramblings from the great lockdown of 2020 Part XIX – Keep
Robert Caro Healthy.
We’re in the middle of a bit of a shitstorm, if you hadn’t
noticed. Things are not so good – which brings to mind a bit of a counterbalance
– we know we’re stuck in a bad place – but are we in the middle of anything
that seems particularly great? I’m leaving the seasons of the Leinster Rugby
team (undefeated in all competitions so far this year) and Liverpool’s soccer
team (poised to finally win the Premiership) out of this equation, because
while they may have been on the way to greatness even their fans would have to
admit (with a huge amount of frustration) that their odysseys are more
“incomplete” than “great”.
No – what I’m talking about is something that is already acknowledged
as being great – but is still underway – a sort of opposite of the situation we
find ourselves in at the moment. Right now we are going through something we
all agree is awful but the worst part is that it’s not even complete. Instead
I’m looking at whether there are any ongoing events that are uniquely good – and
not yet finished. Sort of like someone on the 28th game of what would end up
being Joe DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak looking at the paper and saying “Wow
– this is really something, - and it’s not even over yet”. (I hate to say it
but for my Irish readers it would be a Dub’s fan saying – “We’ve completed the
drive for five, now we’re in the mix for six”).
It was tough to come up with an answer until I looked around at
some of the books that surround me in my home office (one of the near future
ramblings is going to be a virtual tour of that room – it’s rapidly becoming
known as “the universe”). I have a good few books – and a not insubstantial
number of them relate to history in some way, shape or form.
Those books take a variety of approaches to the topic – some are
very clearly in line with the “Great Man” (and, yes, its adherents are usually
talking about men) theory of history. This theory holds that the times tend to
meander along until someone strong willed enough to change its course and mold
it to his (or her) ideas comes along and does exactly that. Carl Sandburg’s
“Lincoln” seems to rather obviously subscribe to this view of the world –
Lincoln is seen as an architect of the times, not as a person who reacts to and
adapts to the world around him but one who forces it to change to accommodate
his vision.
As you might suspect not everyone subscribes to this view of the
world. The contrary view is held by those who espouse the “People’s History”
approach – this is “history from below” and seeks out what is happening to the
ordinary person rather than the “stars” to describe what the world is going
through during given periods. You might remember Matt Damon telling Robin
Williams to seek out Howard Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States” in
“Good Will Hunting”. That is one of the core texts of this approach to history
– it has predecessors but spawned even more historians who follow this approach
- leading to “People’s Histories” on topics ranging from Christianity to World
War II.
Then there is the “Big History” approach – in some ways this
seeks to encompass “everything” when considering history – “great men”, “common
folk”, cosmology, the weather, access to water, medicine (or lack thereof) – it
says you have to take EVERYTHING in to account if you want to really know
ANYTHING.
These types of books often try to either tell “everything” (Ian
Crofton and Jeremy Black wrote a book called “The Little Book of Big History,
The Story of Life the Universe and Everything”, which might be the most ambitious
title in history, challenged only by Bill Bryson’s “A Short History of Nearly
Everything”), or tell something by looking at one certain thing in isolation
and showing how it had a much larger impact than you might expect (Mark
Kurlansky’s “Cod”, which shows the impact the fish, without chips, had on
history is a good example).
Perhaps the ultimate example of this is Jared Diamond’s “Guns,
Germs and Steel” which shows how dealing with these items assisted Europe to
rise to a position of power despite being well behind in the “civilisation”
game for much of history.
I admire this last approach to history – and the way it connects
one event to another is one of the inspirations for this ongoing series of
posts (I’ll talk further about that at some point). But when it comes to a true
insight into history there is one approach that I think takes all these schools
in to account and most rationally analyses them. There also happens to be one
particular writer who performs this synthesis better than anyone before or
since. When I asked the question – “what great thing are we in the middle of?”
– the answer I came up with is what this guy is (I hope) doing right now.
Here’s the thing – every one of the above approaches to history
presupposes one particular element – that of “power”. “Great men” are only
great if they exercise power. “Mass movements” are only important if they seize
power, and only fail if they cannot do that. Meanwhile “guns, germs, and steel”
all either direct, require or sap power in some way. So a great historic
analysis shouldn’t focus on any one of those things – but on the abstract idea
of “power”, and how it works. This might be understood by examining an empire,
a resource, a way of life, an institution – or, yes, a person. In the latter instance
it would not be because they were “a great man” – but because they somehow
could direct power – the study wouldn’t necessarily be about the man himself
(although that would be important), but about the study of power. That study
exists, it is great, and we are in the middle of it.
I’m speaking about the books of Robert Caro, specifically his
ongoing study of “The Years of Lyndon Johnson”, which I am convinced is the
greatest biographical/historic work in American history, perhaps anywhere. Caro
has so far completed four volumes of this work. In terms of Johnson’s life this
has brought him from his birth in 1908 to early 1964, just months in to his
presidency. The first of these volumes was published in 1982, the most recent
appeared in 2012. By Caro’s account there is one more book to come.
Don’t be fooled by the span of 38 years when considering how
long this has taken. It is actually much longer. Caro began seriously working
on the first Johnson book following the publication of his prize winning work
entitled “The Power Broker”. This book concerned the activities of Robert
Moses, the civil servant who, despite having never been elected to office or
holding anything other than an appointed position, somehow managed to
essentially build what we today know as New York City.
That sounds like hyperbole – but it’s really not. Moses was THE
driving force behind most of what we now consider to be New York’s essential
layout. If you drive in to or through New York it is on, through or across one
of Moses’ parkways, tunnels or bridges. Want to go to Jones Beach to relax?
It’s in Robert Moses State Park, since he set the beach up as a recreation spot
(and assigned himself a nice lot for a getaway cottage). The U.N. is in
Manhattan because of Moses, there are dams, golf courses (including Bethpage),
numerous parks, government complexes and swimming pools due to him. Moses was
also responsible for the construction of Shea Stadium – after he forced the
issue and caused the Dodgers and Giants to move out of the city (so in a way
he’s responsible for the Mets, which may just be his least admirable legacy).
All of this without getting a single vote, having little to no publicity and
having the rather obscure title of being “Parks Commissioner”.
Caro, who was a reporter for the Long Island paper Newsday was
determined to figure out how one man could end up with so much power. He
eventually resigned from his job and devoted himself full time to the writing
of the book. This was a job that he thought would take 9 months, but which
started in 1966 and extended into 1974, when “The Power Broker” was published
to tremendous acclaim (other than from Moses and his acolytes). Caro won a
Pulitzer Prize (and numerous other awards) and was left with a decision to make
– what next?
The answer was the Johnson project – beginning in ’74 and
continuing to this day, Caro has spent the past 47 years putting together the
volumes of books that make up what has to be the single greatest biographical
project in history. Beginning with “The Path to Power” (1982), then with “Means
of Ascent” (1990) on to “Master of the Senate” (2002) and through to the latest
published book - “Passage to Power” (2012) Caro has written more than just a
biography – he has set down the single best dissection of the manipulation of
power since Machiavelli – and “The Prince” was fiction.
I found the books by lucky accident. My grandfather always kept
a well-stocked bookshelf and, once when home from college for Christmas I went
down to my grandparents’ house to spend the night. I was used to staying up late
– my grandparents were not. I had a great time visiting – but around 9:30 they
were set to call it a night and I had to find something (quiet) to do. So I
grabbed a book out of the shelf and randomly picked one about Lyndon Johnson –
who wasn’t dead even ten years at that point. It was “The Path to Power” and to
be honest I didn’t find much about Johnson himself in it when I started
reading. Oh – he was there all right – the book revolved around him and the
descriptions of his interactions were incredibly insightful – still, Johnson
was the foundation upon which the book was built, but was not necessarily the
structure the book sought to fashion. There was a reason it was subtitled “The
Years of Lyndon Johnson” rather than “The Life of Lyndon Johnson”.
Instead of just discussions about what Johnson may have done
there were things like an entire, lengthy and involved passage about doing
laundry in early 20th century rural Texas.
Laundry.
And it was fascinating. Caro somehow made the story of how
difficult it was to live in the frontier come to life just by telling about the
ordeal of “washday”. The agony of carrying water to the house by hand, the way
that the lye soap blistered the hands, the work being done outside, in the
torrid Texas heat while standing over an open fire and boiling pots of water,
the wringing, the rinsing, the repetition of this for load after load and the
strain of it on the backs and arms of the women forced to do it were made
manifest.
Then, the next day, the ironing. I never thought of ironing as a
form of torture until I read Caro’s account. When you read about the
application of a scalding hot piece of metal to clothing through the entire
day, with hands already rubbed raw from the wash, with salt used to clean the
iron being ground in to the wounds – you begin to realise that the West may not
have been won by men with a six gun, but by women with an ironing board.
The point of the story was the need for rural electrification –
but the STORY of the story was how Caro had gained such a deep understanding of
those struggles. Finding he was not able to grasp what the Texas Hill Country
where Johnson was raised was really like – Caro picked up and moved to the area
FOR THREE YEARS to research his book. (Actually – Caro and his wife Ina, a hero
of this effort herself). He threw himself in to the research completely –
interviewing everyone about everything – a technique he has maintained
throughout all the volumes.
Example: Caro doesn’t just accept an answer like “He got up from
his desk and walked around the room” – instead he will ask “What did he LOOK
like when he walked around the room?”, “What did he DO when he walked around
the room?”, “How did he make you FEEL when he walked around the room?” Which seems
like overkill until someone (in this case Joseph Califano, a key Johnson
advisor) would remember something like “He would walk around and check the news
ticker, and grab the paper with both hands in a vice grip as it came out, just
wanting to read the news BEFORE it was even printed and you could feel his
intensity”.
That’s an answer.
Of course, when I was first reading the book I didn’t know this
was how Caro had written it – but I did know I was reading something
extraordinarily good. This was only reinforced when the next volume, “Means of
Ascent” came out about 6 years later. The first book, even though it was longer
than most complete biographies, had only brought Johnson up to his early
thirties, just after he lost his first bid for the Senate in 1941. If this
seemed like just a small portion of his life “Means of Ascent” would be an even
more intense microscope, dealing with a mere seven years, and really only
focussing on a single election – Johnson’s second Senate run in 1948. That was
the race in which Johnson somehow managed to come up with the votes needed to
squeak by with an 87 vote margin (really ONE vote in a committee hearing) –
giving him the nickname “Landslide Lyndon”.
In that book the detailed look at Texas politics rivalled the
work on the day to day life written about in “The Path to Power”. Equal levels
of fascinating writing are to be found in the following volumes. In “Master of
the Senate” Caro doesn’t even begin to write about Johnson and his eventual
growth into his position as the most powerful Senate Majority Leader ever until
about 150 pages in to the book. Instead – Caro details the entire history of
the Senate, from its constitutional beginnings, its role leading up to the
Civil War and through reconstruction, how its committees work, its most famous
figures, the role of seniority, why certain Southern senators were able to
accumulate power – all of this BEFORE Lyndon Johnson even makes an appearance.
By doing this you understand all that much better how Johnson, a one term Senator,
was able to take the entire institution of the Senate by the scruff of the neck
and make it work how he wanted it to.
Then, in “The Passage to Power” the depth of Johnson’s despair
at having chosen to take on the Vice Presidency, how it demeaned him (and how
others joined in that diminution) and made the once strongest man in Washington
grovel, is made abundantly clear. Caro shows Johnson being broken down, and in
doing this the events beginning in Dallas and extending through the first 60
days of his Presidency – as Johnson immediately begins to manipulate the levers
of power like a caged bird takes to the air – become both more comprehensible
and, in a sense, more --- I want to say “impressive” but also tend to lean
towards the use of the word “frightening”. We know how Johnson ended up – so
how could someone who seemed so in control end up being so vilified and
defeated within four years?
We’re supposed to find that out in this next volume – remember,
this is the greatest piece of written history ever – but we’re in the middle of
it. There is more to come. The problem (if it is a problem) is that there is
one consequence of working nearly 50 years on a single project.
You get nearly 50 years older.
Robert Caro is now 84 years old and still very sharp. Just last
year he published a short book called “Working” which describes his methods of
research. But 84 is 84 – and Caro is now working in a world where, if the same
circumstances had arisen when he was in his 30’s and looking to move to Texas –
he might have been told he couldn’t travel. An 84 year-old has to be careful
these days, and while Caro’s research has always been meticulous, he probably
has never been “careful” in that sense. I hope he is now – selfishly because I
want to read that next book, and unselfishly because, with the way power is
being exercised these days, I think we need it.
We need it so that maybe we can make sure that political power
is properly controlled in the future, so that it can be tempered, and
channelled and put to good use. We need it because we’re in the middle of too
many bad things right now, and it’s important to see that we are still capable
of experiencing much that is great. We need it because it shows that there are
still people producing that greatness.
So stay well, Robert Caro (and Ina), and while your work may not
support the “Great Man” theory of history, they sure as hell support the “Great
Books” theory.
AWARDS WON BY ROBERT CARO (Taken from Wikipedia)
1964 – The Society of Silurians Award for outstanding
achievement in the field of Public Service History for a series entitled
"Misery Acres", exposing fraudulent real estate sales by mail
1964 – The Deadline Club for outstanding newspaper reporting
1965 – The Deadline Club for outstanding newspaper reporting
1965–1966 – Nieman W. Lucius Nieman Fellowship from Harvard
University Nieman Foundation
1975 — Washington Monthly American Political Book Award (The
Power Broker)
1975 – The Francis Parkman Prize awarded by the Society of
American Historians to the book that best "exemplifies the union of the
historian and the artist"[citation needed] (The Power Broker)
1975 – The Pulitzer Prize for Biography (The Power Broker)
1975 – AIA Special Citation
1982 – The National Book Critics Circle Award for Best
Nonfiction Book of the Year (The Path to Power)
1983 – The Blue Pencil Award from the Columbia Daily Spectator
1983 — American Academy of Arts and Letters Award
1983 – The Carr P. Collins Award from the Texas Institute of
Arts and Letters (The Path to Power)
1983 – The Mencken Award for the best book of 1982 (The Path to
Power)
1986 – The Gold Medal in Biography from the American Academy of
Art and Letters
1990 – The National Book Critics Circle Award for Best
Nonfiction Book of the Year (Means of Ascent)
1991 — Washington Monthly American Political Book Award (Means
of Ascent)
2002 — The Power Broker was chosen by the Modern Library as one
of the hundred greatest non-fiction books of the twentieth century.
2002 – The National Book Award (Master of the Senate)
2003 – The Los Angeles Times Book Award in Non-Fiction (Master
of the Senate)
2003 – The Carl Sandburg Award in Literature (Master of the
Senate)
2003 – The John Steinbeck Award in literature (Master of the
Senate)
2003 – The Pulitzer Prize for Biography (Master of the Senate)
2008 - Elected into the American Academy of Arts and Letters
2010 – Inducted into the New York Writers Hall of Fame
2010 – The National Humanities Medal
2011 – The BIO Award from Biographers International Organization
for advancing the art and craft of biography
2012 – National Book Award (Nonfiction), finalist, The Passage
of Power: The Years of Lyndon Johnson
2012 – National Book Critics Circle Award (Biography), finalist,
The Passage of Power: The Years of Lyndon Johnson
2012 – The Los Angeles Times Book Award in Non-Fiction (The
Passage of Power)
2012 – The New York Historical Society American History Book Prize
(The Passage of Power)
2012 – The Mark Lynton History Prize (The Passage of Power)
2012 – Norman Mailer Prize, Biography
2016 – The National Book
Award (Lifetime Achievement)
Random Ramblings
from the great lockdown of 2020 – Part XX – What the Hell Are You Doing?
So – is
there a Guinness Book of World Records entry for the longest series of Facebook
posts? I think I’m in the running anyway. The obvious question is “why are you
doing this”? The obvious answer – there’s not a hell of a lot else to do. I
find I can get the vast amount of my work done fairly quickly, and even if
things take longer – I’m home all day. The trip back and forth to my office
always took at least two hours total from the day, and sometimes I’d be on the
road for up to three hours. Now I’m able to devote that to getting things done.
There are, of course, things that I would like to be able to do at the office,
meetings I’d like to go to, facilities that are unavailable, interactions that
take longer because they’re remote. But it’s not like I have a choice – so I
can either learn to knit or write.
I don’t
have any yarn.
There
is, of course, more to it than that. I like to write, and I don’t think I’d
like to knit. I also want to have something to remember this whole experience
by (and I have enough scarves). Finally – I had always thought there were ways
to write that I hadn’t tried that might be interesting. I’d never kept a
journal, and this is kind of a journal; I’d thought about incorporating other
media into what I write (and I’ve had a chance to try to do that as well).
Then –
there’s the whole idea of “randomness”. Not in the sense of rolling dice – but
a deliberate attempt to start down a path (a “ramble”) and see where you end
up. That’s where the title comes from. That’s what I’ve tried to do.
To
explain a bit. When I was a teenager, a few years back, a show came on PBS
called “Connections”. It was hosted by a guy named James Burke and it was kind
of a “science history” program. It was premised (as the title indicates) on the
way in which seemingly random events connect together to lead to a conclusion
that no one could have imagined when it started out. In one episode Burke began
with the invention of the touchstone, which allowed you to tell the purity of a
bit of gold, which led to increased trade, which led to the use of star charts
for sailors plying that trade, which led to the use of the triangular sail,
which led to stern post rudders, and then, out of nowhere, Ben Franklin flying
kites comes in, leading to weather stations - and somehow you get the atomic
bomb. It doesn’t seem to fit together when viewed individually – but when laid
out and explained you begin to see how it all makes some degree of sense. If
you get a chance you should watch some of the episodes, I believe they are all
on line (skip the first one – it really is only an explanation of the premise,
which you just got). Here’s a good example of a typical episode:
So – how
does a science show from back in the ‘70’s get us to a series of seemingly unconnected
blog posts written during an epidemic and lock down here in the second decade
of the 21st century?
Funny
you should ask.
The same
fellow who hosted that show went on to create a couple more; a second
“Connections”, another called “The Day The Universe Changed” and wrote a book
called “The Knowledge Web”, all of which dealt with the manner in which outside
forces like the weather, technology and history tie together in a web of
interlocking threads. The latter book was published in 1999, just as the internet
was kicking off, and Burke very much anticipated the way that research or
reading on the internet can lead to “investigations” travelling down unexpected
avenues. He even wrote the book with internal notes that show how you can tie
events in one chapter back to previously mentioned events in another. I’ve
included a picture of one of his pages as an example. The little numbers on the
side of the page show other pages where related topics can be found (the page I
chose discusses the “discovery” of vaccinations, which may be of some current
interest).
Basically,
what Burke’s work through all of these series shows is that there is often a
great deal of value in NOT having any pre-conceived notion of what is or is not
important about a given event. If, instead, you keep an open mind, simply let
the experience happen, and prepare yourself for adapting to whatever the
consequence might end up being, you have a much better chance of getting some
value out of it.
So –
that’s the point of the random ramble. I (along with most of the people in
lockdown) are currently faced with a somewhat limited view – all of our
horizons are restricted. But, just as Thoreau “travelled extensively in
Concord”, given the amount of resources at our disposal (books, dvd’s, Netflix,
the internet, Zoom, etc., etc, etc,) there is no reason to feel all that constrained.
So, in my case, I look at a book of Aesop’s fables, and get something to write,
watch an old movie, and get something to write, see a new meme arise on
Facebook, and get something to write. I just try and let the topic take me
wherever it wants to go.
Let’s
try it. I’ve just looked down at my bookshelf and seen a book called “Golf for
Dummies”. Written expressly for me, I assume. But golf requires a few
implements – clubs, tees, money for pints afterwards, a mobile phone so you can
call someone to come collect you after pints afterwards…oh yes, and golf balls.
You need balls to play golf (especially the way I play it).
So,
let’s pop “golf balls” into the old google machine. Lots of ads for cheap golf
balls, so let’s try “golf balls history”. Now we’re cookin’. The first entry I
found is about golf balls and not hitting someone with a baseball bat, but
instead using a golf club, because it is much easier to grip.
Well,
this is promising.
From
here I could go in a number of directions, follow up on the baseball bat
analysis, explore the use of various kinds of tree sap in rubber production,
figure out whether anyone is still making golf balls by stuffing goose feathers
into a leather pouch (that must’ve been some job), but, instead, I think I’ll
explore the name of one person who comes up in the history of golf balls, Mr.
B.F. Goodrich. It was at the rubber plant started by Goodrich that someone came
up with a rubber core golf ball. Back into Google he goes.
Holy
crap. B.F. Goodrich is named after Benjamin Franklin, and I’ve already mentioned
Ben Franklin once in this post before even starting this part. Talk about
connections. Anyhoo, B.F. Goodrich seems to have bought his original rubber
company from Charles Goodyear, which is a bit of a coincidence and means that
maybe the next thing I could check in to is blimps, since that is what Goodyear
is famous for. Nope. Instead I see that Goodrich set up his rubber company in
Akron, Ohio where it struggled until he started making “pneumatic” tires which
were useful for the new auto industry but which were also very useful for
another vehicle that was then popular, the bicycle. So just out of the blue I
decided to check and see about another Ohio based business of the time, which
made bicycles out of Dayton, a town not that far from Akron.
That
bicycle business was owned by a couple of brothers named Wright, Wilbur and
Orville by name. They had a hobby in building kites, gliders, and, beginning in
1903, heavier than air flying machines. After a few more clicks it turns out
the Wrights probably did use Goodrich tires and that one of the earliest
aviators to try one of the Wrights’ inventions was the research head at the
B.F. Goodrich company, a fellow named John Rudolph Gammeter. Turns out,
Gammeter was almost as interesting as the Wrights.
He was
known as the “Thomas Edison of the rubber industry” and invented or improved
over 300 items – including inner tubes for bicycles, rubber bands and, coming
right back to where we started, he’s the guy at Goodrich who invented that
improved golf ball that sent us down this path to begin with. So, we’ve kind of
gone the full circle – except we are by no means done with Mr. Gammeter yet.
For,
while airplanes, bicycle tubes, rubber bands, golf balls, bottle stoppers and
the first packed parachute are all important inventions it turns out that Mr.
Gammeter, in one of civilization's great advances, happens to be the guy who
perfected the latex condom (no doubt after putting in a trojan effort). Here’s
to you Mr. Gammeter, a true real man of genius, and isn’t it lucky that we’ve
managed to run across you in the course of conducting this random ramble?
Of
course, we’re STILL not completely done yet. Mr. Gammeter’s crowning
achievement is known by a number of nicknames, including the English “French
letter”, the Australian “dinger”, the Christmas themed “Santa sock”, the all
purpose, no doubt Gammeter inspired “rubber” and the somewhat inexplicable “jimmy
cap”. The latter reminds me that I have a cousin named James, who we always
called Jimmy. So we’ve gone from a random exploration of golf balls, to
checking out Benjamin Franklin Goodrich, which leads us to Akron, Ohio, which
points us towards the Wright brothers, who used tires from B.F. Goodrich, which
employed the amazing J. R. Gammeter, who invented the modern parachute and was
known as “the Thomas Edison of the rubber industry”, which no doubt made him a
babe magnet, leading to the perfection of the “jimmy cap”, which leads to my
cousin, James “Jimmy” Martino. So, Jenna, if you’re reading this one could you
please wake your husband and tell him he’s now famous.
Anyway –
that’s the idea of these posts – start with something and find where it leads you.
That has meant that I’ve had pages and pages of posts about snack foods that no
longer exist, a horse that did the impossible, an imagined Seinfeld script, a
skunk that kicked the absolute shite out of a bear, an encounter with the
summertime police force of Newport, Rhode Island – these posts can, and have,
gone anywhere. I believe it’s of even greater importance to go anywhere when,
in truth, you can’t go more than two kilometers outside your front door.
I’ve
also tried to do this in a way that makes use of all the tools at my disposal.
I have linked to videos, embedded songs, included pictures, old advertisements,
news reports, listed books that people might want to check out, included
references for restaurants, shit – I’m going to start posting recipes soon –
the whole idea is to be more than just the typical internet rant. Although my
politics have probably been made apparent from time to time – I’ve attempted to
not make it the focal point of what I’m doing, because, honestly, aren’t you a
bit sick of that anyway?
So, the
rambles will end up being a record of what is happening now, something I (and I
hope you) can look back on at some point and say – “It must have been a crazy
time, because look what that eejit was up to”. You can read all, none or, more
likely part, of the post – in fact I kind of hope that when reading these
people get side tracked, start to watch the “Connections” video and get hooked,
or get intrigued and end up googling the history of the Goodyear blimp - or go
back and re-check that video of the skunk kicking the bear’s ass (it really is
amazing). Writing these helps me get through the day after day tedium –
hopefully they help those who read them as well.
Now, as
a bonus, two video links. One is a compilation of the “Real Men of Genius” beer
commercials, in honor of Mr. Gammeter, who truly is a real man of genius.
The
other, given the “Day After Day” line above, is a link to one of the most
underrated bands of the ‘70’s, Badfinger (which, as a bit of trivia, also
provided the final soundtrack song to which acclaimed television series?).
Enjoy.
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