The plant rooms at the Victorian Conservatory, and a brief note on the 1932 Tarzan.

Perhaps I should wait a few minutes before posting the pictures to which I referred yesterday. The problem won't be the pictures, but could easily be a typing tantrum from me. I have just gotten off the phone with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal-etc. and I'm madder than a hive of hornets in a Warner Bros. or Disney cartoon. The miserable corporate entity with which I was dealing could easily be depicted as a cartoon villain, but that would only serve to humanize it. Then again, depicting it as Simon Legree would only serve to humanize it.

A few of the angry dancing dwarfs, pictured while
in the act of menacing the white folks in the pit.
 

Last night, a friend came over to watch a movie. After looking at the options available on the DVR, I asked to take a quick look at the Turner Classic Movies on demand section, as titles appearing there are only available for a few days. I had noticed a listing for a Popeye cartoon, with an allotted time of two hours. I wanted to see what the listing comprised - if it was cartoon after cartoon, etc. Imagine our surprise when after the first cartoon, it turned out that the entire 1932 'Tarzan, the Ape Man' was there. Feeling the hand of divine cinema providence, we watched it. It had been quite some time since I'd seen it, and I had forgotten a number of things. Unbelievably, I had forgotten about the tribe of nasty dwarfs. After being captured, the white folks are lassoed into a pit to fight a large ape creature. The dwarfs hurl darts at them for extra fun while performing an odd, gleeful jumping up and down while waving darts menacingly in the air dance. My instinctual reaction is to identify with the white folks in the pit, feeling as though I've been lassoed into it, forced to battle a large creature while deadly darts whizz by - which is how it feels to deal with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal.

But I digress.
I'll try to write about Tarzan tomorrow.
Today I wanted to post a few pictures of plants in the other rooms of the Smith college horticultural department's 120+ year old conservatory, the rooms not dedicated to the spring bulb show.

While the bulb show always provides that first overwhelming fragrance of Spring, providing a lift to winter weary spirits (not that I am personally weary of winter), the other 'rooms' of the conservatory provide a green and happy relief from the gray world outside. Sadly, this year what has lately been called the 'cool temperate room' was not its usual self. The waterfall was shut off and under repair, many of the plants had been removed, or relocated, or cut back. Things change from year to year, but the waterfall and pool were missed. Herewith, a few pictures of the offerings from the various environments the rooms emulate.

Someone, perhaps with a sense of humor, threw one of the daffodil flowers in with the water lilies.

Sadly, I must get ready for the bus to the grocery store, so this will be it for today.
I hope the various photos are found to be enjoyable.

                     

Easter Sunday

I've probably mentioned this before, but I miss the local tradition of a downtown Easter Sunday zombie walk. I think the last time I saw it was on Easter Sunday 2012. That was on April the 8th, and the main reason I remember is that I spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon assisting our engineer with setting up and wiring the new WVEW-lp studio. You know, it would explain a lot about these last few years if I were to assume that the zombies got me.

---------------------------------------

 

Curses! Sidetracked again!

 

 

On to other tasks. I shall have to miss today's chance to be brilliantly witty, charming, and possessed of... well, maybe just leave it as possessed.

 

And now (drumroll please) last night radio show. (Applause, cheers) (moves hands up and down, "Thank You, Thank You, that's enough now, thank you".)

 

As you may have guessed, it's a themed show chock full of secular Easter time stuff from ye olde days of radio, and commercially released sound recordings made on black shellac.

 

 As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.



 

Onion rings for breakfast

Do you know what happens when you get too busy for the daily chores of life? You get onion rings for breakfast. My schedule got messed up again thanks to stuff at the radio station (all volunteer, including humble self) and I never got to the supermarket for groceries. As I don't have a car these days, I have to rely on the bus. I missed my planned excursion on Friday morning, with the result that while I have plenty of leftovers for dinner, I'm out of cereal, eggs, and well, just about everything. I could make rice and veggie dishes for dinner for a couple more days without a shopping trip, but I've been trying to be better about actually eating breakfast. Balance and all that. Last night I wasn't all that hungry after doing my radio show, so this morning I was primed for some nice scrambled eggs with veggies, French toast, cereal - something. But the cupboard for the necessary ingredients is bare. (Studio apartments don't have much in the way of cupboards.) All that's in the freezer is some turkey stock, and the onion rings. They made a good brunch.

Logging in to the blog made me realize that I never posted last week's radio show, which was the 16th anniversary edition. The show has gone through a few evolutions, but lately I haven't been able to spend the time to do the shows the way I want to do them. Between running the station, and being President of the station's non-profit, there is just too much to keep me busy. ("If only I were paid rather than a volunteer", he thought to himself for the 1,474th time.) Over the last few years the show has concentrated on the mid 1940's. This has been mostly due to the number of music oriented shows from that period which have become available. Those episodes, when the entire broadcast was spent in a certain week or two with various excerpts from radio shows of the weeks involved - including the news - are the shows of which I'm proudest. But I've been feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. There's no time to listen to the radio shows of the period, no time to make new clips from the shows, I've just been re-using the clips I made in the year and a half I wasn't running the station. I was thinking of calling it a day last August with the show that marked the 70th anniversary of the end of WWII. At the time I didn't think that I'd accomplished what I had wanted with that show, so I figured I would just keep at it for awhile. Since then, I've had an increase in the odd verbal mistakes I've been making ('senior moments'), and an increase in the feeling that I'm not putting together the quality of shows that I want to accomplish. And I feel like I'm done with the WWII story for awhile. Over the last few weeks, I gave a lot of thought to calling it a day. Just before the anniversary show, I decided that while I'm done with the WWII shows for awhile, I'm not done with the show itself. That decision had a lot to do with my thoughts about Delores deleting her blog. I wrote to her, by the way - she's fine. She didn't say why she deleted it, and I didn't ask. At any rate, here's the 16th Anniversary edition of Recycled Radio:



Another thing that got away from me this week - I'd intended to start writing a bit about the movies I've been seeing. When I first started collecting 16mm movies, I began a practice of noting the movies I showed - mostly as a way of tracking bulb life. When I worked in film distribution, I took home a lot of movies from the company's non-theatrical library. Now I wish I had made notes about the films as well. I remember my assistant asking me to show him Mario Bava's 'Four Flies on Gray Velvet', but I'll be darned if I remember much about it 40 years later. I actually went out to the movies at a movie theatre last week to see - oh, great - I can't remember the name. It's a Marvel anti-superhero superhero movie. Ah, "Deadpool". (Bless the ability to instantly look things up on the internet.) It was in its last week at the local theatre, a late era smaller town movie palace, built in 1938. I've posted about the Latchis before. For its last week the movie went back to the main auditorium which is mostly intact and still has an old fashioned big screen. (The only change of consequence to the main auditorium was turning the "crying room" into a separate screen.)

I've not really seen much of the wave of superhero movies of the last decade. While the special effects made possible by computers have opened up a whole new world of possibilities, I can't say that using them for ever bigger explosions and more intense battle scenes has any kind of innate appeal for me. Plus, I was never a Marvel kind of guy. My era was DC comics with the likes of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Justice League of America, et. al. Over the years I've known a number of people who have toiled in the comics industry - when I used to manage that big bookstore in NYC in the 1970's, the guys from Marvel were regular customers. At that same store, I gave several autograph parties for various illustrators. So I've been aware of many of the problems of the artists, especially the shameful way Jack Kirby's heirs were treated, and etc. So a part of my boycott of superhero movies was due to my feelings about Marvel specifically. At any rate, 'Deadpool' makes fun of its own genre without really making it to the levels of camp. It's a movie for the teenage boy still hiding inside of adults no matter what chromosome set they have. It's got the best opening and end title sequences in recent memory, and is highly entertaining. But even though it was very enjoyable, it was kind of like popcorn without butter on it - something was missing, it was satisfying in an empty calories sort of way. Now I have no problem with sheer silly entertainment for entertainment's sake, after all, one of my favorite movies is "Cobra Woman" with Maria Monetz as twin sisters. The problem I have with this kind of big budget film making may come down to the budget itself. When one is spending over a hundred million dollars to make one two hour movie, problems with protecting the investment arise. The necessity of having every single thing planned out leads to a certain lifelessness. This kind of filmmaking used to be the B picture, inventiveness due to budget constraints was required; there was a kind of 'make it up as you go along' giddiness to many of them. Now, it's a very studied affair, a linked group of set pieces told in broad strokes and broadswords. Even the cheeky vulgarity seemed too planned. When I see things like this, I keep wondering what if Kurosawa had been able to use this technology while making 'Dreams', or if Orson Welles or Dali had been able to use it.... etc.

I keep thinking that I must have seen a movie at home this week, but I can't recall having watched one. I did watch a few pieces of movies on the Blue-Ray player a friend lent me to test the format. And one day was spent at the Smith College annual bulb show. Tuesday night a friend without tv came over to watch the primary election returns, and to bitch about the current state of politics.

Spring arrived at 12:30am this morning. We've had a temperature drop, and at one point snow was predicted. No matter, it's Spring. My radio show had its annual 'Swing Into Spring', on last night's program, which also played a few for Stephen Sondheim's birthday on March 22nd. 'Senior moments' intruded when I noted Ted Lewis as Al Lewis; and totally forgot to credit a lovely piano solo on "Meditation" to Marian MacPartland, whose birthday is today, March 20th. These kinds of mistakes have been increasing in frequency. My memory doesn't work as well as it once did - or as quickly. This morning I read that statins, which I take for high levels of bad cholesterol, can cause this kind of thing as a side effect. I once went on a specialized diet for many months without any change to the cholesterol reading. My doctor smiled as she said, "this is genetics laughing in your face". When compared to the size of my father, his brothers, and my brothers from both my father and my mother's later family, I may be taller than my Dad and his brothers, but otherwise as far as bulk is concerned, I'm the runt of the litter. Also possibly contributing to these little lapses in memory are the antidepressants I used to take. Ditto the anti-anxietals I used to take. Luckily I got off of those years ago. Next time I see my doctor, I hope I remember to discuss the statin. At any rate, here's the annual "Swing Into Spring". As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.


.

It is Spring again...

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems...”

                                                                                       - Rainer Maria Rilke

 

 

Spring has been lurking about. It always starts slowly, generally arriving here about a month or so after the vernal equinox. It used to unfold like a flower filmed in slow motion. When I wrote a garden column many years ago, I remember musing that Spring in New England was so spectacular I suspected God vacationed here in May and June. Now-a-days most Springs seem to last for a few minutes. Perhaps that perception is colored by my advancing years. When I was young life was a summer of exuberance. In my 40's, autumnal changes revealing true colors assumed the status of favorite season. Now I seem to have a distinct preference for the impatient headlong rush of Spring; renewal and stunning beauty too briefly expressed, a seasonal touch of the poet.

 

These last few years, Spring has arrived and passed into early summer with undue haste. Last year Spring seemed more like her old self, allowing one time to luxuriate in blossoms and scents wafting upon the breeze. This year we are back to the 21st century Spring explosion and action extravaganza.  Just as the magnolias blossomed, a wave of early heat wiped them out before cooling down again. Just as the apple trees turned the landscape into billow white clouds, the heat returned and the blossoms faded and fell.

 

It is in Spring that I miss living in Boston. The residential area known as the Back Bay is comprised of Victorian era row house mini mansions built on landfill. The Boston Horticulture Society was involved in selecting the plantings. Frederick Law Olmstead planned the park system, known as the Emerald Necklace. Walking down Marlborough Street on a sunny day when the magnolias are in bloom is a heady experience. I dare say to the Victorian upper crust the overwhelming fragrance and visuals were as close to decadence as could be reasonably handled.

 

I've been scanning a few of my old photos - I'm fairly sure this is one side of Commonwealth Avenue.

Ah, now this is one corner of Marlborough Street.

A 'cup and saucer' magnolia. This one was in front of my landlord Ralph's home in the South End.
I'd never seen them before, and later showed this very picture to family. My aunt, born and raised in Georgia, sternly rebuked me, "That is not a magnolia, it's a tulip tree". Now, my landlord was a scientist, one of his degrees was in horticulture, and I had no reason to doubt him on the matter. As a member of the Horticultural Society, I used their library to do more research and it is indeed a magnolia, "Magnolia × soulangeana" to be exact. I knew better than to say anything to my aunt. Over 25 years later, living in Brattleboro, I became friends with a Ralph from the radio station who had lived for many years in Boston. I mentioned missing Spring in Boston with all the magnolia trees. "Tulip Trees", he corrected.

The Public Garden, which borders the Common.

Tulips in the Public Garden.

There is a lagoon and suspension bridge in the Public Garden. An entrepreneur, back in the day, was entranced by a scene in Wagner's Lohengrin in which the hero was transported in a boat pulled by a swan. The swan boats have been a seasonal fixture of the Public Garden ever since.

(One year, I was passing through the Public Garden just as the Swan Boats were being returned from their winter storage... )

On the Esplanade, a strip of greenway which separates the Back Bay and the Charles River.

Of course, before Spring arrived here this year, as I was reminiscing about missing Spring in Boston, two different friends announced they were going to Boston and asked what to see. A third friend, who lives in Boston, called.  Luckily, just at that time, Spring arrived here in Brattleboro.

 

Two weeks ago, early heat provided an explosion of bud and color just as prom goers wandered through the Common.

 

Last Saturday the temperatures soared into the 80's. Another riot of color appeared in a day's time.

Up by my garden at Solar Hill, the sweet violets bloomed in Elaine's mandala.

In my garden, the 'back 40' was originally shaded by trees no longer with us. I worked to create a 20 foot long woodland walk. Now that one portion gets lots of sun, the Solomon's Seal has spread like crazy. The bloodroot has gone wandering, popping up here and there. The Jacobs Ladder is currently a wave of blue, the Virginia Bluebells are gone, as is the native columbine. But the English bluebells will bloom soon, and all will be right with the woodland walk.  

With the high heat, the crab apples bloomed and faded within three days...

but the walk home from the garden was still pretty nice

 

The lilacs have been blooming all week. This picture of the Common was taken two weeks to the day from the 'prom night' picture above. Spring passes so quickly now. But then again, at my age, it would.

 

This week's radio program took note of the birthdays of Irving Berlin, Bobby Darin, and Woody Herman. Like Spring, I must rush through to other things. I hope listeners enjoy the show.

   

Best Wishes.

Welcome Hill and just another day.

It's been another busy week full of sturm und drang, various vicissitudes of life, and a few blessed moments of pleasure. The pleasure part involved not one, but two trips to Welcome Hill. And this year, I got to talk to the son of the man who started it.

A short jaunt across the river into New Hampshire brings one to a small cemetery started in the late 1770's. It is on the corner of a highway and Welcome Hill Road. The area is hilly and was home to hard scrabble farms going back into the colonial days. Occasionally, the farms would change hands. One family finally gave up and decided to sell; their land was bought by Leslie Hadlock not long before he went off to the war, the "big one'. He was stationed somewhere around the Netherlands.

As the story has it, as Mr. Hadlock returned after the war, the family in whose home he had been billeted gave him a gift - daffodil bulbs. Mr. Hadlock and his wife Marjorie began a garden. Every year they added more daffodils. On one side of the road there is a hill. On the other there is an outcropping with two benches, and a small path leading down into a dell. The woodland floor is covered in daffodils. Forsythia appears around the glade, as do a few varieties of magnolia. It is a magical place.

Mr. Hadlock passed some years ago. His wife passed a couple of years back, at the age of 102. (The obituaries had her age as 101, but her son said she was 102.) The son is now in his 70's, and has difficulty maintaining the garden; with the rest of the family farm and land there is too much to do. His children have moved away. If I had a car, I'd volunteer to help. He still has the hand painted sign that welcomed visitors, requesting they not pick the flowers - but it doesn't get put out anymore. Also gone is the tradition of putting out guest books for visitors to sign. I recall that one year the table they always used for the guest book was stolen. The younger Mr. Hadlock mentioned that his father used to greet visitors who came from around the world, and would talk with them for hours. During the war he'd seen enough of the world; after returning home, he and the Mrs. never left the farm again.

When I was a kid, May the 8th was marked in red on the calendar. Underneath the date, text used to read "VE Day". Over the years, as I grew up, the date stopped being marked and May the 8th became just another day. Once, it celebrated what was arguably the world's greatest accomplishment. On May the 7th, 1945 what was left of the German government surrendered unconditionally. Most of the nations of the world had banded together to put an end to the madness that had engulfed Europe for six years of total war. They formed the United Nations, and drew up a Declaration of Human Rights. This week's radio show took note of that day 70 years ago, still within the lifetime of people who lived it. Listen in - after a couple of songs du jour, to the music and news of a remarkable week, and a day that used to be marked in red on the calendar.

Bing Crosby's birthday and...

By the time  Bing Crosby was three years of age, his family had moved from Tacoma to Spokane, Washington. Whether the family misplaced his birth records in the move, or if they simply didn't record the date, I don't know. I have read that his family sat down to figure it out, and the agreed upon date emerged as May the 2nd, 1904. During his lifetime, Bing's birthday was always celebrated on the 2nd. Several years after he passed in 1977, his baptismal record turned up, which prodded a biographer to do a bit of checking in a Tacoma's newspaper's archive. It turned out that Crosby's actual birthdate was May 3rd, 1903.

Before so many  1940's radio shows became available, one of my personal favorites of all the shows I'd done was a show I called "Bing and...", which featured duets with other performers. I think that show may have started my birthday tributes. At any rate, for several years now I've usually done an all Bing show for his birthday, but this year, since I'd just done an all Ella Fitzgerald birthday tribute, I decided not to devote the whole show to Mr. Crosby. If I did, it would mean ignoring a favorite chant-hussy Blossom Dearie, whose birthday was April 28th, and lyricist Larry Hart, whose birthday is May 2nd.

Blossom Dearie (and yes, that's her real name)
 

Composer Richard Rodgers (left) and lyricist Larry Hart (right)

This week's featured broadcast was a Kraft Music Hall, originally heard on May 3rd, 1945. The Music Hall started in 1933 with Paul Whiteman, 'the king of jazz', as host. Crosby had started performing in 1925 as part of a duo which favored 'hot' jazz. Mr. Whiteman had hired them, and was responsible for expanding them into a trio known as 'The Rhythm Boys'. By the time the Kraft shows started, Crosby had gone solo and had his own radio show. In 1936, Crosby replaced his former boss as the host of the Music Hall.
He continued in that role (while adding 'Academy Award winning movie star' to his list of accomplishments) until 1946. Back then, the big networks (NBC Red, NBC Blue, and CBS) required their programs to be broadcast live, as the sound was of higher quality than the transcriptions independent stations and the Mutual Broadcasting stations used. This meant that shows had to be performed twice for each broadcast - once for each coast to overcome the three hour time difference. The first to rebel was Jack Benny, who simply did his show once. Crosby wanted to prerecord, but the network and sponsors refused. He'd taken note of a captured German technology, and became a principal financer of the Ampex tape recorder company. When the government forced NBC to give up one of its networks, the Blue was spun off and became ABC. They agreed to let Crosby prerecord and edit his shows for broadcast; Philco signed on as the sponsor. Oh, by the way, Crosby introduced his friend Les Paul to the magnetic recording device. It was Les Paul who started multi-track recording.

During the week of the Kraft broadcast, there was incredible wonderful news. There wasn't time to include any news broadcasts in this week's show, so I've already started work on a way to present them next week. After all, May the 8th (a Friday this year) is the 75th anniversary of VE Day. If anyone would like a preview, check out the newspaper stories, advertisements & etc. posted on my show's Facebook page for the news of the week I didn't get to use. Here's a link which should give access to anyone without a Facebook account: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Recycled-Radio/621059471269529

As always, I hope any listeners like the show.

Four-twenty and so on and so forth...

Back in the 1970's, there was a group of teenage high school friends who were known as The Waldos. And it came to pass that they heard tell of a secret abandoned field of marijuana. It was determined that a search for this pot of gold might provide an efficacious result, so they determined to set out upon such task by congregating by a local statue at 4:20 in the PM. The meeting time became a slang term which eventually found its way into the general population. For many years now, April the 20th has been the date of "smoke ins", celebrations of stoner age culture, and protest marches seeking legalization of cannabis sativa and various things hemp.

Smoking pot used to be one of those things that was just there somewhere in the background of the culture, often found in the circles of hot jazz and swing musicians. Hemp had many uses and was an excellent (and renewable) source for making everything from paper to rope and clothing.

In 1917, a young man by the name of Harry Anslinger married the niece of Andrew Mellon. His connections helped him acquire employment from military and police organizations, traveling the world with a mission of shaping international drug polices. In 1929, he became an assistant commissioner in the US Bureau of Prohibition.  In 1930, he became the first commissioner of the U.S. Treasury Department's Federal Bureau of Narcotics, a position he held for 32 years, until 1962. He immediately began a campaign to destroy hemp as a feasible crop. Publisher William Randolph Hearst had invested heavily in the timber industry to support his newspaper chain. Hearst lost 800,000 acres of timberland to the Mexican Revolution, and needed to protect the rest of his investment. Hearst pushed the anti-hemp crusade. Both men hated Mexicans and African Americans; they began spreading the worst kind of lies and distortions to create negative stereotypes of our neighbors. They were soon joined by the Dupont company, which was about to release synthetics such as nylon. Pharmaceutical companies joined the fight. Hemp production had to go. Marijuana was portrayed as an evil, connected to the dastardly poor Mexican rabble. In 1937, a tax act was used to effectively prohibit hemp/pot. To pass it, Anslinger and Co. distorted and lied about the position of the American Medical Association. Their friends in Hollywood were pressed to join the crusade, and the "Reefer Madness" era began.

 

 

By July 1939, the local paper here in Vermont carried a few stories like this one:

 

 

From the late 1920's through to about 1939, jazz musicians created quite a few songs about the joys of pot smoking, the 'reefer man' and etc. Soon such recordings were outlawed, as was their use in the movies. For my radio show of April 18th, I played some of my collection of such songs.

Also in this week's radio show was a too short nod to the events which started late in the evening of... well, as a poet once put it, " 'Twas the 18th of April in '75, hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year." It's part of a poem we once knew as kids. It starts, "Listen my children and you shall hear, of the midnight ride of Paul Revere...."  The poet, Mr. Longfellow, writing close to 100 years after the fact got a lot of it wrong. An earlier poem by Mr. Emerson started:

 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

 

One of these days I should really get back to regular posting and tell that story. There's parts of it elsewhere in the blog, but suffice it to say that on April the 19th the colonists fought back and really did change the world.

 

It was another fight that was the underpinning of the rest of the radio show. It was April, 1945. President Roosevelt had died (see last week's show post). The Allies were descending on Berlin. Here in Brattleboro, it was time to start the yearly Victory Garden. On the radio the night of April 21st, the Victory Parade of Spotlight Bands featured Johnny Long and His Orchestra....

 

The organization which registers and tracks the breeding of Holsteins is located in Brattleboro.

  

 

 

 

  

As always, I hope anyone who listens enjoys the show.