Notes on a popcorn movie, Hollywood Boulevard.

Opening lines can be tough.

They have to hook you in, make you want to continue the journey, and imply that the time spent won't be a waste. That's a lot of value judgment riding on a few words. Then there's a philosophical question regarding what is, or isn't, of "value". Further complicating matters is that the concept of what is of 'value' shifts. A divertissement on a mildly stressful day may have enormous value, but try one's patience at other times.

This week's shared motion picture experience was 'Hollywood Boulevard'. It had been my entry in a friend's 'bad movie night' competition. It wasn't the movie chosen to be screened that evening, but it did intrigue my friend enough that he asked to come over to see it. Perhaps my description of its content as relying heavily on 'guns and naked female breasts' had something to do with it. That very description reflects upon my age. When I was a callow youth (as opposed to being a callow adult)(ba-dum-dum), gentlemen didn't use certain words in mixed company. There is a much better description of the movie within the movie itself. The premise is the old standby of 'young girl goes to Hollywood to become a star', but that's just the opening line. Most of the movie is a send up of the low budget bottom of the triple bill drive in passion pit school of filmmaking, made by a company which specialized in low budget bottom of the bill drive in passion pit movies. In one scene, the star of such a movie (Mary Woronov) tries to convince the director (Paul Bartel) to increase the size of her part by changing the script to eliminate the other female characters. Killing them off, she reasons, will further audience sympathy for her character, whose suffering will then illuminate the human condition. The director replies, "This is not a film about the human condition, this is a film about tits and ass!"

Once upon a time in Hollywood, there was a low budget studio known as American International Pictures (A.I.P.). It was created in 1954 to make inexpensive movies which would be sold as double bills. Enter a new film producer named Roger Corman, who had a picture called "The Fast and the Furious', filmed on a $50,000 budget in 10 days. Distribution rights went to AIP after they promised Corman enough money to make two more movies. 'The Fast and the Furious' became AIP's first release. AIP turned out a series of schlock sci-fi atomic bomb monster movies, teenage hot rod rock and roll movies, beach party movies, and a series based on Edgar Allen Poe stories. It was also a training ground for folks who would later become major industry talent. In 1970, Corman started his own company, New World Pictures. New World continued the AIP style, made schlock, and did it on the cheap. In the process, they provided a training ground for more folks who would become major industry talent (the late Jonathan Demme, Ron Howard, Joe Dante, etc.), and added a pick up distribution arm for films by European directors like Fellini and Bergman.

'Hollywood Boulevard' was made on a bet. In 1976, producer Jon Davison bet Roger Corman that he could still turn out a movie as cheaply, and in as little time, as anything Corman had done. Corman took the bet, and gave Davison 10 days and $50,000. Twenty years had passed since 'Fast and Furious', and that amount wasn't going to go as far. Davison knew he would need to reuse footage from other New World movies. He'd made the bet in cahoots with the two guys who had been editing New World's trailers: Joe Dante (Gremlins), and Alan Arkush (Rock and Roll High School). It became the first directing job for both. The movie was shot on what used to be known as 'short ends', film left over after a scene was shot. Such pieces were saved and sold to low budget filmmakers. They didn't just purloin footage from other movies by the way, they also made good use of costumes and props from low budget classics like 'Death Race 2000', 'Battle Beyond the Sun', 'Big Bad Mama' (a personal favorite), 'Night Call Nurses', and etc.

Miracle Pictures. If it's a good picture, it's a Miracle.

The film opens with a hand drawn logo for 'Miracle Pictures', which turns out to be on the side of a van at a movie shoot. Director Eric von Leppe is busy filming a sky diving scene. He is staring at a plane overhead. His star, Mary McQueen, wanders by while stating, "Things are looking up." The back of the van opens, and a movie producer, whose name is only given as 'PG', steps out, adjusting his zipper. He is followed by a half naked starlet. PG wanders over to the director, complains that the scene being filmed is costing him a fortune and could have been done cheaper if they had used miniatures. He follows that up with one of my favorite movie lines, "Listen, remind me, I wanna pump up some more laughs in that crucifixion scene. More sex." Which prompts von Leppe to ask, "Well, which is it going to be"? PG replies, "More sex. It's cheaper."

The director, played by low-budget director Paul Bartel ('Death Race 2000', 'Eating Raoul', 'Scenes From the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills', and the wonderful but rarely seen 'Secret Cinema') just happens to have the name of Boris Karloff's character from a 1963 Corman cheapie, 'The Terror'. That movie, by the way, was filmed on sets left over from a previous AIP production. During the credits sequence, the name of Jeffrey Kramer, the actor playing Miracle Pictures' writer, is seen as our heroine walks past a poster advertising the movie, 'Jaws'. Mr. Kramer's first movie role was as a deputy in that picture. He plays Patrick Hobby, which is the name of a hack writer in a series of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories. The script for 'Hollywood Boulevard', by the way, is credited to 'Patrick Hobby'. The actual author of the script was Dan Opatoshu, a member of the writer's guild who could not be credited for his work on a non-union movie. He was given credit as 'Assistant to Mr. Hobby'. It's that kind of movie.

The bad jokes, the funny jokes, and the 'in jokes' fly fast and furious. There are cameos tucked in here and there; at one party, Forrest J. Ackerman could be spotted off to one side. Mr. Ackerman was the editor of 'Famous Monsters of Filmland', a magazine to which many of my generation, including myself, were devoted. I have heard that in one particular scene, in which a familiar looking creature is seen reading the script for 'Atomic War Brides' before throwing it into a toilet, future director Jonathan Demme played 'Godzina'. By the way, in an interview segment, Bartel's director discusses his upcoming project, 'Atomic War Brides' and notes, “What we’re trying to do here is combine the legend of Romeo and Juliet with high speed car action and a sincere plea for international atomic controls in our time.”

In the film there a production assistant named 'Scotty', a blond guy with an easy smile. The part was played by Jonathan Kaplan, who had already directed a few exploitation titles for Corman, and who would soon get serious attention with one of my favorite independent titles of that era, 'Over the Edge'. He would go on to direct 'Heart Like a Wheel', and 'The Accused'. Just as a by the by, one of the jobs in the movie he seems to enjoy is turning a firehouse on a bevy of starlets in a wet t-shirt contest.

Paul Bartel as Director Eric von Leppe, and Jonathan Kaplan as Scotty.

There's also a musical performance from Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen, performing a somewhat indecent song. Playing the saxophone is Weird Al Yankovic. The group disbanded after filming their scene.  

 

Perhaps my favorite moment takes place at a drive-in theatre where our heroine has gone with her agent, and her script writing boyfriend, to see their finished movie, "The Machete Maidens of Mora Tau".

 

                        

The agent, played by Dick Miller, is named Walter Paisley, which was the name of Mr. Miller's character in Corman's 1958 beatnik artist opus, 'Bucket of Blood'. As the trio waits for their movie's debut, a scene from 'The Terror' plays onscreen. In it, a young Dick Miller talks with Boris Karloff. Seeing Dick Miller 1976, watching Dick Miller 1963, is worth the price of the DVD in my book. If you can get one - it's out of print. There was a very limited edition BluRay made form the master negative. Copies can occasionally be found on eBay.

(Blogger is acting up - above is Dick Miller as the agent Walter Paisley. Below is our heroine from   Hollywood Boulevard, Candice Rialson as up and coming starlet Candy Wednesday.)

 

There are too many jokes, and too many connections to mention here. As a movie, the film is the equivalent of popcorn. Not terribly nutritious, but a hell of a lot of fun.
 





'The Last Waltz' and old friends.

A bit over a month or so ago, I discovered that buried deep in the "free movies" section of my cable company's streaming options was one for Turner Classic Movies. I'd often wished they would have one, and suddenly it appeared as though the Cinema Gods had smiled upon the retired movie lover. Titles available at first seemed to be those which had just shown on TCM proper. That has changed a bit, with other titles not on the recent schedules popping in. Most of the titles are only there for 5 or 6 days at a time. As my cable box's digital video recorder is almost always full, I was over joyed to get a second chance to watch titles I had missed, or old friends which I wanted to see again. last night, for instance, I watched a 1942 MGM potboiler about an unfortunate event befalling a gold digging Broadway starlet:

I'll comment on that movie another time, but just as a 'circle of life' kind of thing, I'll note that I used to work in Grand Central Station a long time ago. I will add that it made for a rather interesting almost a double bill, as the late afternoon/early evening had been spent with a friend who came over to see the restored pre-code 'Baby Face', which had been on my DVR for two years waiting for the perfect time to watch it. Notes on that one later, as well.

At any rate, last Saturday night I turned on the video projector, intending to go to the streaming TCM option to see what might be expiring that I'd like to see. I had left the cable box on a Vermont PBS channel; 'The Last Waltz' had just started. My immediate reaction was to email a friend to come over - he had been invited to go to see the live concert but chose not to go. I also figured that it would be constantly interrupted and was being used as pledge bait. That turned out to be correct, but I watched the whole thing (slightly over 3 hours) anyway. It had been a long time since I'd seen it. The concert was the Band's farewell performance, held on Thanksgiving in 1976. Adding to the frustration of the breaks was a pledge promotion for a Blu-ray (only available as part of a set of CDs) which had been restored and approved by the filmmaker (Martin Scorsese), with it's soundtrack remixed by Robbie Robertson (member of The Band who produced the movie) for Dolby 5.1. This was frustrating for a few reasons. 1. I couldn't afford it. 2. I didn't have the room on the DVR to record it. 3. The version they were showing had a standard stereo mix. It was still a delight to see it again. Of course, I looked online to see if this new edition was available. It might be a repackaging of previously available material, or not - information was scarce. Now, I can't go to any website without being confronted with ads for 'The Last Waltz 40th Anniversary' special set.

I've mentioned elsewhere in this blog that in the late 1960's and early 1970's, I used to help run a counter-culture coffee house in Ocean City, NJ, called the Purple Dragon. Ocean City had originally been a Methodist camp meeting. When land was sold, a clause was put in the deeds that should the sale of alcohol ever be legalized on the island, the land would revert to the possession of the Methodist Church. Now, when I say that Ocean City was an island, I do mean that literally, not figuratively. The main bridge was at 9th Street. Across that bridge, on the mainland, was a town called Somers Point. And, on one side of a traffic circle, there was a very large liquor store said to have the highest volume of sales in the entire United States. (Across it's access road was a popular club, 'Your Father's Moustache'.) On the other side of the circle was an even more popular club called Tony Mart's. Just next to it was an old fish market. The Methodist church, which funded the Purple Dragon, got that building and opened another coffeehouse, called The Fish Market. (I think that was supposed to be a display of ecumenical humor.) Now, I spent many an evening at the Fish Market. I only mention this as it is my tenuous connection to Tony Mart's. The Band used to play there under the name of 'Levon and The Hawks', a leftover form the days when they played with Ronnie Hawkins. They were, in fact, playing there when Bob Dylan made them an offer to become his back up band.

Needless to say, I was a fan of both The Band and Mr. Dylan. When Dylan ended a multi-year retirement (after the motorcycle accident), he did so by going on tour backed by The Band. When they played Madison Square Garden as the tour's last stop, I was there - with my friends Richie and Keith. That's the same Richard, by the way, with whom I go on camping and canoe expeditions into wilderness areas of the Adirondacks. (Trips which I credit with maintaining my sanity.) At any rate, I went to see 'The Last Waltz' when it played in the theatres. When another friend, John, bought a building in Brooklyn (in partnership with his brother) to rehab, they threw a party. The idea was that they would have something different going on in each room for guests to enjoy while wandering around. At the time, I was working for a film company which had the rights to 'The Last Waltz', and managed to get my hands on one of the brand new 16mm prints to show in one of the rooms. That's the same John, by the way, who was instrumental in my moving from NYC to Boston, and who took me on my first car culture excursions, as well as my first trips to Vermont. He was also one of the kind folks who helped me move here. I've lost contact with him over the years, much to my regret. So John Chiafalo, if you stumble on this, please get in touch.

Now, I'm not going to go into the whys and wherefores of what is probably the best rock and roll concert film ever made, or some of the problems it had. Or the sadness of the years and realizing that Richard Manuel, Rick Danko, and Levon Helm are no longer with us. What I will say is that if you've never seen it, you owe it to yourself to do so. Here's the concert's, and the movie's, finale (an encore was used as the film's opening). Joining the Band are Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond (Huh? - don't worry about it), Paul Butterfield, Dr. John, Van Morrison, and Ronnie Hawkins. Oh, yeah, when you start the clip use the full screen option if it's available to you. And, as the filmmaker requests, turn up your volume.

A little extra and the Bishop's wife

I pay a little extra to the cable company to have a cable box with DVR, digital video recording.

I could write more than a few posts deriving from that one sentence. The cable company's rate structure and business model makes me think of modern day pirates. The quality of digital recording is excellent, and it records in high definition if one has that service - I pay a little extra for that, too. Why I should have to pony up more money for high def in a world in which high def became the broadcast standard some years ago has not been explained. Did I use the word 'pirates' yet? There is a problem, of course. (Isn't there always?) The box fills up with recordings, at which point programs and movies have to be deleted to make way for new items of interest.

I record a lot of movies, mostly from the classic movie channel. You know, the one that I was fortunate to get when it was part of a special deal? Otherwise, I'd have had to pay a lot extra for an entire service level of sports channels which I would never watch in order to get the one non-sports channel in that package, i.e. the classic movies channel. Did I use the word 'pirates' yet?

Well, anyway, since I gave myself that relatively inexpensive video projector for Christmas, I've been watching a couple of movies just about every week. The way I currently have things set up, the old Hollywood style projected picture is about 5 feet wide, and a little under 4 feet in height. Widescreen, well at least the tv version of it, is over 6 feet in length. In my small-ish space, I could reorient things and get a much larger picture, but my current method allows for a guest or two without totally rearranging the furniture.

Last night, I finally caught up with "The Bishop's Wife". For some reason or other, I'd never seen it. It's another of those movies with a somewhat messy history. Produced by Samuel Goldwyn using facilities at MGM, it was distributed by RKO, and somehow ended up looking like it might have been filmed at Paramount. The story told of a somewhat fastidious Bishop who had become so focused on the task of raising money for a cathedral that he was ignoring his wife and daughter, as well as the needs of parishioners. Heavenly intervention arrives in the form of a rather rakish angel. Goldwyn became so dissatisfied with the dailies he called a halt to production, replaced the director, had changes made to the sets as well as the script, and changed one important bit of the casting. The role of the Bishop was played by Cary Grant, the Angel was played by David Niven. During the hiatus, the director and Goldwyn decided that the roles should be reversed. Grant was allegedly not very happy with this turn of events. The story has changed over the years, however, so that now it is said that the change in roles was Grant's idea and it was Niven who was unhappy. (Niven was at a low point during the filming. His wife was injured in a fall and died from ensuing complications leaving him with two young sons to raise.) However the change happened, both men gave excellent performances in their new roles. Loretta Young does a decent job as the Bishop's wife, suffering neglect with admirable restraint, but was not quite as inspired in her performance as her co-stars.


One of the stories from the set told of a day the director had trouble with both Mr. Grant and Ms. Young. They each insisted that for one particular scene, they be photographed from their "good side". The only problem was that they both favored the same side. The director filmed the scene with the two stars standing side by side looking out a window. Mr. Goldwyn was not happy. The next day he confronted the director and the stars on the set. After having the situation explained to him, he is said to have remarked that if he was only going to get a shot with a half of the stars faces, then they would only get half of their salaries. There were no further such demands.

The rest of the cast was rounded out with instantly recognizable character actors. Well, instantly recognizable for anyone of my age, or for inveterate moviegoers. I especially liked Monty Woolley in the role of a history professor, and Gladys Cooper as the rich widow funding the cathedral. Elsa Lancaster had been cast in a maid's role, but had to withdraw due to other commitments. During the production delay, she finished up her other role and ended up replacing her replacement who had to exit due to commitments of her own. Two of the young players in the previous year's holiday picture, "It's a Wonderful Like" are in the cast - the fellow who played the young George Bailey, and the young lady who played ZuZu of the petals.

Although the film got glowing reviews, it didn't do a lot of business at the box office. Under the theory that the title made people think it was a religious story, the advertising was changed (and in some markets the name of the picture as well) to read "Cary and the Bishop's Wife!" In those markets, the box-office increased 25%.



It's easy to see why it became a Holiday classic back in the days when movies were regularly shown on broadcast tv. A charming sort of romantic comedy, there's Christmas shopping, snow scenes, and a tad of religion. In once scene, Cary Grant plays a harp in the home of the rich widow. The melody became popular, acquired a set of lyrics, and became a minor hit for Nat King Cole as "Lost April".

Most of the movies currently on my DVR are old favorites which I haven't seen in many years. I'm running out of movies I've recorded that I haven't seen. Soon I'll be watching a number of old favorites which I haven't seen in a long, long time. I'm still surprised I spent the money for the projector (it cost about the same as my 16mm print of Casablanca, purchased in 1975 or so). All the little extras I've spent which used to make me feel slightly guilty over the expense incurred have made this possible; it has turned out to be more rewarding than I ever imagined.

Red Cup mania

Rembrandt tulips
 

Back when I ran bookstores for a living, there was a very successful paperback reprint of Charles Mackay's 1841 opus, "Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds". One of the chapters examined the tulip mania of the 1640's. Basically, a plant virus struck the Netherlands and caused breaks in the colors of tulips. The desire to possess the affected bulbs built into a frenzy. Fortunes were quickly amassed, and spent, investing in their acquisition. Prices for just one bulb reached to such heights that a well off merchant's lifetime earnings could not afford the purchase of one single bulb. Although the term would not come into use for a number of years, the "economic bubble" burst, destroying both fortunes and lives. The descendants of these tulips still exist: they are usually sold under the name "Rembrandt".



Just one portion of the Solar Hill gardens last June. The entire space,
including my garden, would comprise about eight squares of this size,
including all of the area around the tree center left.

When I last posted, I had just finished planting the tulips. I'm in the process of shutting the gardens down for the winter.  It is a large task (I've also been tending Solar Hill's gardens.) As plants go into their dormancy,  it's a good time for many of them to be transplanted. Several peonies, asters, a daylily, etc. were either being overgrown by their neighbors, or were getting less sunlight due to tree growth, etc. For good garden culture, plants should be cut back, leaves cut off and disposed of to prevent overwintering of diseases, and so on and so forth. I've accomplished most of it, but am still in the final stages of getting it all done.

Generally, I've been in the garden four to five days a week recently. Today was going to be a long garden day, as there weren't a lot of other things which couldn't be put off - I want to finish putting the garden to bed this week. Now, last night there was a meeting of our all volunteer community radio station's Board. This was our first meeting after our annual bash, so yearly Board elections had to be held. I've been returned to the position of Board President/Station Manager. This morning, about 7am or so, I sat down to fire off a few emails based on discussions from last night. Then the phone rang with a DJ's questions. The man calling is learning disabled, and calls several times a week, often asking the same question he asked the day before. He hasn't finished his training, but wants to fill in time slots which other DJs have posted that they won't be able to make. He has a case of radio fever, which often affects new DJs. I've repeatedly told him he has to finish his training, and must have the person who helps him present when he does a show. But he still calls and tries to get me to say something different. There is a DJ doing her last show today, so there needed to be posts to the station's email list, the station's Facebook page, etc. The upshot is that I finally stopped working on station business at 3pm. (By the way, an 8 year old, who has been doing a show with her mother since she was old enough to talk, just did her first 'by herself' show at 2pm. She put many of our adult DJs to shame. There were almost no children's songs that would have been heard on the show she does with her mother. Nope, this kid is into Spearhead, and jam bands.)
The station is another sort of garden.

I did spend about a half an hour of personal time on Facebook, checking responses to posts for my radio show, what a few of my friends and family were up to, etc. There were several Facebook sessions, sending messages to people about station business and etc. It was therefore impossible to escape the issue/outrage of the moment: the Red Cup. It would seem that all of Facebookland is obsessed with the red cup. Folks are posting impassioned diatribes about the issue. Memes, images with a slogan which are easy to repost allowing the poster to avoid having to think through what one might say, are spreading like soft butter on a hot skillet. There is a veritable red cup mania.

What happened is this: some church (or church official) that no one ever heard of called for a boycott of the Starbucks coffee chain. The problem started when Starbucks began using their holiday themed coffee cup. It is red, with a Starbucks logo in green and white. The church was offended, nay, outraged, that there was no "Merry Christmas!" scrawled across the cup. No "Season's Greetings" (which would have caused more of a "War on Christmas" fervor). No pictures of Santa Claus, the Christ child in the manger, nothing. Why, it is another example of the persecution of Christians! This little bit of idiocy has become a target for everyone who wants to outdo their friends by posting an ever more incisive meme (which I still unintentionally read as 'me me') in a frenzy of self righteousness equaled only by the original call for the boycott.

Warning: this being the year 2015, and social media being what it is, one of the examples of the red cup memes contains expressions of common vulgarity.

" ...whole communities suddenly fix their minds upon one object, and go mad in its pursuit; that millions of people become simultaneously impressed with one delusion, and run after it, till their attention is caught by some new folly more captivating than the first."
                                                                       - Charles Mackay, "Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds"

Of course, my own cynicism leads me to wonder if the church and its representative actually exist. The large coffee corporation could have hired someone to start all of this just to get themselves a lot of free publicity.
                                                        
Another object of mass intoxication is the once wonderful holiday of Halloween, which has been built into a merchandising bonanza. The madness now begins in August when "pumpkin spice" English muffins hit the shelves of the supermarkets. Of course, there are no pumpkin spice muffins to be had anywhere near Halloween itself. This past September, in a Halloween products commercial I saw on television, the Halloween goods were displayed in front of a group of fir trees, which were decorated with colored lights. Holiday creep is upon us. At any rate, I never got my radio show of October 31st, Halloween,  posted - so here's that show, mostly big band Halloween songs. I know it seems odd to be posting it over a week late, but I'd like all my shows to be here for friends and family from away who might have some crazy interest in just what I've been up to these last few years.



Well, I thought I might go on about nothing in particular (there a whole 'nother mess o' memes being posted about a Republican Presidential candidate who has been playing fast and loose with the truth, and expressing somewhat surprising opinions such as his belief that the pyramids were built by the Jewish patriarch Joseph to store grain. He is the current Republican frontrunner in the reality show contest for the Presidency of the United States. Instead of continuing in this vein (by the way, I swear I'm not making this stuff up), I think I'll go sample the pumpkin bread I baked while composing this missive.

Herewith, my radio show from this past Saturday, November the 7th, in which we listen to excerpts from the radio, as well as a few of the songs on the jukebox, around early November, 1944. The featured broadcast at the end of the show is one of the Eddie Condon Jazz Concerts, with guest stars Lee Wiley and Red McKenzie.



As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show(s).

The Unexpected Sunlight

Today was supposed to be one of those 'rain all day and night' days, thanks to the remnants of a hurricane. It rained a good bit of yesterday, and it rained for a couple of hours this morning. For the last half hour or so, the sun has been shining. The temperature has reached the low 60 degree Fahrenheit range; what we used to call "Indian Summer" is upon us.

Now there's a song cue if I ever heard one. Herewith: 'Indian Summer' as performed by Sidney Bechet and His New Orleans Feetwarmers:

Now that we have a little background music appropriate to the day.... the weather is tempting me to go off to the garden, but I woke this morning with the start of a cold and should stay home to nurse it. The frosts of last weekend wiped out most of what remained of my garden.

After some success with their winter survival and bloom this past spring, I've taken a great leap of faith and decided to plant tulips again. I used two beds which were once problematic for such adventures, being composed of soil which grows only rock and slate with ease; and which retains water to some potentially troublesome degree.

The 'double' tulips planted last autumn survived and bloomed.

The bed which provided success this past Spring isn't much different from the two beds planted the other day. Maybe the years of growing various soil improving plants overrun by copious weeds have finally paid off. But then again, it could have been the voles all along, which was my original suspicion. I hope the warm weather doesn't encourage them to go exploring.

Getting the beds for the tulips cleaned up and the bulbs planted was one victory. Now it's onto planting new daffodils. I was thinking that they would look really nice around the old apple tree. Over the 20 years I've gardened at Solar Hill, it has never produced very many apples. Last year that changed a little bit. This year was a good year for apples throughout the area, and the old apple tree produced hundreds of them. I've taken many for cooking, but there are still so many left to remove. The animals have helped themselves, neighbors who wander through have been encouraged to take some. Every time I think progress has been made, I arrive to find a fresh layer covering the ground. Next year I must get a cider press. As for the moment, my concern is that someone seems to have wandered off with the rake.

 

Meanwhile, around town the show continues, with sometimes notable changes everyday. The Common has gained color, lost it in the killing frosts, only to recover with the remaining trees seeking their turn in the spotlight. Even the oaks have been seeking attention by turning yellow red orange green instead of their usual brown. I live just a few steps away from the Common and either go by it, or pass through it, daily. Just looking down the street has been breathtaking.

The photo above (looking south towards downtown) was taken two weeks ago.

This, and the photos after it, were taken two days ago.
It's always kind of sad when the tourist information booth closes for the season. (But only 'kind of'.)

 

Every town in Vermont has a memorial to the men it lost in the Civil War. The list of names on each is quite long.

Well. A couple of the above pictures were volunteers (I've decided to leave them since they themselves jumped into the fray). I've been sitting at the computer for a few hours now, and quite frankly, I need a rest. This is highly unusual; I hope this isn't going to be a bad cold. I would prefer it be just a passing fancy.

 

Which means it's time to post last Saturday's radio show, which played a few for the extended glorious autumn before visiting October the 26th, 1944, when a different war preoccupied the general populace. The week in question saw the dedication on the Common of the Honor Roll, the list of those off to fight the war. 18 names appeared in gold in the center panel. At the dedication, a single flower was placed for each name. As there would be a permanent memorial for those who gave their lives in the war, a few folks thought it a shame that there wasn't some sort of permanent honor planned for those who went off to fight the war, or those who went to nurse the wounded back to health. They came up with the idea of a memorial to the living. People in town donated their war bonds to the as yet unspecified project. In the early 1950's, Living Memorial Park opened on the edge of town. It included the ski run and tow which had drawn tourists on special trains all the way from New York City in the late 1930's. It's still there, run and maintained now by volunteers. That says something about the kind of town Brattleboro is, and why I'm happy I chose it as a place to live.

 

 

The parade for young children, mentioned in the article above, still exists.
It's now known as the 'Horribles Parade'.
20 years ago, they used to close off half of Main Street for the walk to the old armory where a party was held.
The bands have faded away, and Main Street is no longer closed. The kids parade up the sidewalk without fanfare.
It's too bad, I really liked the Horribles, and I miss the town that did something special for young kids.

 

 

 

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

p.s. As I was finishing the above, the sunlight was blocked by forming clouds, and the rains began anew. Gusts of wind provided a veritable blizzard so thick with yellow leaves that driving through them must have been difficult. It was beautiful; and the force of nature was humbling. As suddenly as it started, the storm has passed - for the moment at least. The sun one again tries to peek though.

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.