Notes regarding Heroes and movies.

There are several things I should be doing, so of course I'm going to ignore them and work on a blog post instead. The venomous expression of politics, with its accompanying slithering about, have made Facebook and Twitter a fly over zone for now. You know, I've never been fond of that 'fly over' expression, as it seems to me to be a bit of rhetoric that seeks to be divisive; it has a pejorative built in. I will note that the non 'fly over' portions of the country are those portions of the East and West coasts that are home to those awful liberal 'elites' (i.e. "blue" on a political map). They are almost magical areas where sanity still seems to prevail these days. Those areas fare better in everything from quality of life studies to education, health care, happiness, financial stability, and generate a sizeable portion of the country's income. Which explains why the Trump administration's budget and tax plans seem to target those very areas. I don't want to leave that statement unsupported, but I shall for now.

From 'Black Sheep' (2006)

There are plenty of other statements I'd like to make without posting voluminous notes to support my comments. I could, for instance, point out that two of our governments' agencies which heavily influence the daily life and future of our country are the Office of Management and Budget, and the Environmental Protection Agency. The two men in charge of those agencies were both politically active in their respective states. If one were to take an honest look at the financial health of those states, the status of education in those states, the tax burden, etc. ad infinitum, one of the first things one might notice, if one can look behind the curtain of tourist and relocation PR, is that both states are financially distressed to the point of being referred to economically as "sinkholes". Their people are largely poor. Their educational systems are in disaster mode. These states are the bottom of our country's barrel. These men are regarded by the current administration, and their enablers, as heroes.

Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman. More than a gal with a sword.

A recent discussion with a friend raised the issue of the Hero, and the Hero's place, in our entertainment culture. I had finally caught up with the 'Wonder Woman' movie, which was widely praised and a huge financial success. While it was delightful to have the super hero figure be a woman, there was little else to differentiate it from any other superhero movie, and I pointed out in discussion that the movie simply substituted a female lead for a male. Kind of like the change of sex for the role of Hildy between the stage play and movie of 'The Front Page' to the remake version known as 'His Girl Friday'. The hero role being female was simply a change, it didn't inform or impact the story. 'Wonder Woman' had the same tired tropes as any other superhero movie. I should point out that I'm just making observations; no judgement on the product is intended. It is product, and that statement isn't intended as a judgement either. I found it to be an enjoyable and entertaining movie. I'm not trying to impose my thoughts or vision on it. You know, I hate this. I hate having to qualify every statement; in this case to make it clear that I have no problem with female superheroes, lead roles, or action figures. I'd like to see more of them, and I'm delighted that young girls (or older girls, or women of any age) can have female fantasy figures which might inspire their dreams and persons.

Gal Gadot as Wonder woman,  her sword placed as if it were...
umm, nevermind.

The discussion veered to the first 'Star Wars' movie, which I rushed to see on opening day after reading a review which linked that movie's themes to Joseph Campbell's books, 'The Hero With a Thousand Faces', and 'Myths to Live By'. Such themes reflected some of my interests, and both books had been influences on my thinking. Thoughts of a hero's quest have been rambling around my brain due to the movies I've watched these last three nights.

Sunday afternoon was spent at a younger friend's home attending his monthly 'movie night'. The idea is that there is a stated theme; each person attending should (if so moved) bring a DVD of a movie reflecting that theme, and give a very quick pitch on its behalf. Those in attendance write on slips of paper the name of the movie which most appeals to them. The slips are put into a hat, from which one slip is selected, providing the selection to be viewed. The theme this time was 'really bad movies'. The winner was 'Black Sheep', a New Zealand indy effort in which a flock of sheep become ravenous flesh eating killers of humans. It's got blood, guts, a middling implied criticism of money making science, a zombie or two, and makes particularly good use of sheep flatulence. Science, in this case, was a substitute for magical forces. The male hero is a younger brother with a phobia about sheep, who has returned to the family ranch to sell his interest to his evil and deluded older brother. The boy, in his journey, must confront and overcome his phobia, confront and overcome his brother, and become action oriented enough to overcome his nelly attributes to fight off the marauding sheep for the survival of the main characters and all of mankind. The girl hero arrives to expose animal abuses at the ranch. Her journey moves her from babbling about new age mysticism to becoming an action figure fighting the sheep, helping the younger brother to survive, saving mankind, and, of course falling in love with the younger brother.

Experience (Danielle Mason) and Henry (Nathan Meister) in the midst of a long day fighting sheep. 

The sheep(le) are out to get you , you know. Be warned.

John Wayne as Ringo.

Monday night, a friend unexpectedly had free time and came over to watch one of the movies I wanted to see and delete from my digital video recorder. We settled on the 1939 'Stagecoach'. In it, the male hero escapes from jail in order to extract revenge on three bad guy brothers who killed his family and whose false testimony put him in prison in the first place. His journey includes fighting to save the stagecoach from Indian attack even though a sheriff has him in shackles. The girl hero is less action oriented, instead proving herself as a caring, nurturing goddess despite being thrown out of town by the uplifter ladies league for being of questionable moral character in her choice of employment. The movie took great pains not to use the word prostitute, and greater pains to not state that another female character was pregnant. The hero, named Ringo, was played by a youngish John Wayne. The good-bad girl was Clare Trevor, who had top billing. The rest of the cast was character actor heaven. It's the kind of movie which keeps things moving in an attempt to distract the viewer from questioning some sizeable holes in the story. I could, and should, go on at length about the movie, but that will have to be its own post in that great someday in the sky. I'll just note this about one iconic shot - Ringo is first seen, standing by the side of the road, his shotgun male appendage held akimbo. As he walked towards the stagecoach, I noticed was that he didn't fill out his jeans all that well. Simply put, John Wayne had a saggy female pear shaped ass. Otherwise, he was the slightly nelly butch straight shooter who treated the good-bad girl with the respect that no one else could muster, save perhaps for the drunken doctor who was really Scarlett O'Hara's father.

 

Last night, another friend came over on the spur of the moment. We watched the 1940 'Thief of Bagdad'. (Note to the Turner Classic Movies channel: the print quality was shameful.) Sabu, then 16, played the titular hero. He spends a portion of the movie as a dog, due to a spell by an evil wizard. He also helps a wronged Prince regain his throne, helps the Prince save the woman the Prince loves, copes with an ill tempered genie, fights off a giant spider without falling into an aqueous pit inhabited by octopi, visits magical places, and triumphs over other similar adversities while fulfilling prophecy. For his part, the Prince is cut from the same sort of slightly nelly English male cloth as an Ashley Wilkes or Sebastian Flyte. He must overcome magical blindness, find his Princess, and defeat the usurper of his throne, the very magician whose anti-education, pro-punishment, rule by fear, power mad greedy attitudes starves the population, and provides the evil which engulfs several kingdoms. In this, the oldest of the movies being noted, the hero journey for the Princess involves staying out of the clutches of the evil wizard, and falling instantly in love with the Prince who speaks in poetic phrases.

Two of the movies involved Princesses (Thief of Bagdad, and Wonder Woman whose journey includes learning that she is the daughter of Zeus and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. She is out to kill Ares, the God of War. In classical Greek mythology, Hippolyta was Ares daughter. The movie's comic book mythology avoids the potential complications of that one. In Stagecoach, One might make a case for the woman traveling to meet her husband being a Princess stand-in. She was a Southern Lady, which figures slightly in the Grand Hotel on wagon wheels plot. The girl in Black Sheep starts as a satirical take on new age hippie throwbacks and could thus be said to be a Princess stand in, but was otherwise just a modern gal who proves to have some gumption.



Black Sheep (2006) Experience got a gun.  



In a sense, three of the movies had magical realms;  Black Sheep's was the New Zealand farm in the countryside which left me wondering when the hobbits were going to appear; Wonder Woman's realm was an island protected by Zeus' magic cloud cover, and Thief was set in ancient Iraq's mythical period. If there was a magical place in Stagecoach, it was Ringo's ranch in Mexico where he and the good-bad girl could live in blessed happy ever afterness if only they could reach it. It was only mentioned, never seen, and not integral to the story.

In all four stories, the heroes overcome obstacles, and fight for their happiness, as well as the common good. All of them must deal with the sacrifice of friends or relatives along their journeys' paths. In all but Stagecoach, the heroes save the world.

Of these four movies, the only one which didn't involve magical forces was Stagecoach. Well, unless you count too many bullets, or killing all of your enemies in an impossible situation (the main event occurs off screen). This American myth has a wronged hero, willing to suffer the penalty of 'doing what a man's gotta do'.



The Stagecoach about to depart a rest stop, even though they know Geronimo is out and about.
John Carradine (far left), Andy Devine (holding the reins), George Bancroft (riding shotgun), Chris Pin-Martin as the innkeeper, Louise Platt as the woman traveling to meet her husband, Donald Meek as the milquetoast liquor salesman, Clare Trevor as the good-bad girl, John Wayne as the Ringo Kid, Berton Churchill as the thieving bank manager. 
Thomas Mitchell, who won an Academy Award for his drunken doctor, is not in the picture.

Now, let's go back for a moment to those two erstwhile heroes of the right, the men in charge of the nation's budget, and the nation's environment. They present themselves as John Wayne he-men out to conquer a world gone mad due to the ideals of those annoying liberals who want to feed the hungry, house the homeless, educate the masses, and provide health care in a reasonable manner. Needless to say, these men do not fit the hero myth. Their 'common good' is what is good for the power brokers who pay them, those who steal people's money, food, kingdoms, and who unleash unholy forces in the name of profit.

Conrad Veidt, the evil wizard of Thief of Bagdad, plots how to cover up his orange hair.
No wait, that's not right... Mr. Veidt played Nazi Major Strasser in Casablanca, and
the murderous somnambulist in the silent German expressionist classic 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.'

What we need these days are honest nelly heroes, their butch helpers, angry women, and pissed off teenagers to work together to rid ourselves of the usurpers of power, who prefer their people uneducated, sent off to endless wars, fighting each other at home for scraps of food, so they can't unite to fight the evil taking over the kingdoms. But that would be the old school hero journey, and involve magical help. Even the American West loner hero living by a moral code seems decidedly old fashioned now. Folks are counting on the investigation being held by Mr. Mueller as magical help. In so many ways, it's the same old tropes.

Armistice Day

Today, November 11th, used to be known as Armistice Day.

Many of my generation can recite the phrase... "on the 11th hour, on the 11th day, of the 11th month...". I occasionally wonder how many people know to what event that phrase refers? The thing is, the import and meaning of that day has changed.

An Armistice is defined as an agreement whereby warring parties end their armed engagments. The quote above refers to the end of fighting on the Western Front of The Great War, now known as World War One. November 11th, 1918 was the unofficial end to the war. The paperwork took awhile longer. It always does. Just between the agreement to end the fighting and the arrival of the fabled hour, another 3,000 soldiers were killed in battle. Thousands more were still to succumb to the remains of the conflict.

In both Great Britain and France, a day of remembrance for those who gave their lives in the service of their countries in the war was declared. It became customary to observe 2 minutes of reverent silence in their honor at the 11th hour on Armistice Day.

Part of the celebration in London

the celebration in Paris

 In the United States, something quite remarkable occurred. In 1919, President Woodrow Wilson declared November 11th be a commemoration of the Armistice; "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…"

The key phrase is "sympathy with peace". Armistice Day was a celebration of Peace breaking out. It was intended as a day of reflection on the concept of peace and international co-operation.


Soldiers on the Western Front celebrated

Those who think I am off the mark should look no further than the Congress of the United States, when it issued a resolution on Armistice Day in 1926 with the following words;

"Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and

Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples."

London

In 1938, the U.S. Congress passed an Act which proclaimed the 11th of November a legal holiday: "a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day'."^[

In 1954, not quite 10 years after the end of World War Two, the Congress of the United States changed the meaning of Armistice Day, basically by doing away with it. The President at the time, a member of the conservative Republican Party, was Dwight D. Eisenhower. He had previously been known to most of the world as the General whose careful planning helped defeat the fascists in Italy and Germany, ending the Second World War on the European continent, and freeing the world from the vile machinations of the Nazis. The idea for the change to honor all Veterans of all of the US wars came from a WWII veteran, who led a delegation to the Capitol to express the idea directly to the President, who had been a man of War. This occurred in the greater context of the Red Scare, the early days of the Cold War; the Army-McCarthy hearings were underway. It was around the same month that the words "Under God" were inserted into the Pledge of Allegiance - a recitation required of US school children while saluting the US flag. The Pledge became an official requirement in 1942, after the US was brought into WWII. It had become a contested practice as the clouds of war had gathered over Europe. There were teachers who refused to institute it and quit their profession rather than require the youth of the country to participate in what they regarded as militaristic training. It was originally written by an Admiral who had fought in the Mexican-American war as well as the Civil War. It was then revised by a Baptist minister with socialist leanings.

Americans in London joined the celebration

At any event, while it is fitting that the people who serve their country be honored, a day dedicated to thoughts of peace was turned into a day of commemoration of specifically military service, which in our own day has become, for various reasons, a flag waving celebration of 'warriors' and military service.

Lest we forget, when the bill to allow conscription was passed as we geared up, ummm, prepared for our possible involvement in WWII, there were warnings that we might never get rid of it. Had it not been for conscription, there would have been no standing army to send to Korea, nor to Vietnam. Soldiers of that era were not volunteers. The idea had been promoted that one owed four years of their life and their youth to the government of the geographic bit of space on which they were born.



celebrants in New York City

Now that we have a supposed 'volunteer' army, our military has become a chance for the underclass to get a leg up towards the "better" lifestyle depicted in the movies and on tv. There are many benefits. I have friends and family who served, and whose service was in army camps in Germany, or other non-combat areas. They were able to buy their homes through Federal assistance to veterans. They get healthcare, and a number of other benefits - depending on their geographical location to access them. They are among the first to fly the flag and point out that they "served", even though they never seem to recall the non-combat part. I don't begrudge them their benefits, even though some of them had no choice in the matter.

These days, after our National Guard was sent to war, after the non-traditional battles against Islamic foes, torture (not ours, theirs), beheadings, and other horrors, it seems as though those who served are honored every day, by specially advertised on television sales deals, special insurance rates - business gladly waving the flag for customers - and at sporting events in large Roman style Coliseums, er... sports arenas. As it turned out, these events have been bought and paid for by the government. They aren't about honoring the brave men and women who served, they are propaganda. Our television programs feature action adventures of specialized government units which used to serve those who serve us, but for several years now mostly fight terrorism, often by breaking the rules or fudging the rights of suspects. The excess military equipment from the Iraq war, the Afghanistan war, the Libyan war and etc. has become part of everyday life - given or sold to police departments in my country to preserve the peace - but from whom? A town not far from here, a bit larger than Brattleboro where I live, now has its own tank. Our police, often ex-military people, have a cowboy us versus them mentality. They do not shoot to disarm, they do not shoot to immobilize, they shoot to kill. We've just had the interesting spectacle of a female police officer being exonerated for killing an unarmed civilian. She couldn't see his hands, you see. She demanded that he show her his hands. He was lying face down on the ground. He moved his hands underneath his body. She was certain that he had a gun, so she shot him in the back. A new wrinkle in women warrior rights.

As for our actual warriors, the Republicans in our government (them again!) have cut the budgets which provide for the care of our fighters, then blamed the Democratic government opposition for the lack of care while they wrap themselves in the flag. These Republicans, however, are a world away from anything President Eisenhower would recognize. Once they were a great party, now they are a bowdlerized version of that group, providing lap dog services to the wealthy and corporate elite.

Even though I was a child at the time, I remember President Eisenhower's farewell address. Because I was a child, I didn't understand all of it. But I remember his warning about something he called the "military industrial complex".

The phony cause known as the Iraq war ably served corporate interests, while destroying the minds and bodies of our youth. Those it served well included a company for which the then Vice-President had been Chief Executive Officer. That company earned billions, made more billions vanish into the desert sands of time, and provided services to our soldiers that included such niceties as providing drinking water which wasn't safe. They were but one of many such companies, and their crimes would takes days to list, but since they were making money there have been no trials, no convictions, no investigations, no nothing except their continuing to 'honor' those who serve. Some honor.

So please excuse me for not jumping on the online bandwagon and attempting to wave the flag higher and more ferociously than my friends and neighbors. I won't buy the special coffee that earns money for warriors. I won't buy any of the special products. I don't buy it at all. I'll take time to observe Armistice Day, and think about a time when peace broke out.

pax vobiscum

 

 

 

Emma Smith

April the 3rd was a Tuesday that year. The banks had been closed the day before as part of Easter Holiday. People had a little extra money on them. It was an old neighborhood, the large houses the main remnant of the days when it had been fashionable. The French who had built them had moved out to the country. The Irish had come, and then the Jews. The jobs had gone. The big old houses built by and for wealthy merchants had been carved up into rooms.

In the early hours of the morning, Emma Elizabeth Smith was assaulted and robbed on the corner of Osborn Street and Brick Lane. No one knew much about her. There was something in the way she talked that hinted at a cultured and educated life; she might have once been well off. Someone said that she had two children, a son and a daughter who lived in another part of town. Even though she had been injured, she managed to walk the block to her rooming house at 18 George Street. She told Mary Russell that she had been attacked by three men, one a teenager. With the help of another tenant, Annie Lee, Russell took Smith to hospital where she was treated by surgeon George Haslip. Smith fell into a coma and died the next morning.

Two days went by before the police were notified. At the inquest, Dr. G. H. Hiller found that she had  been brutally raped  with a blunt object which ruptured several internal organs. The police report described her clothing as being comprised of rags so dirty that it was impossible to tell if there had been fresh tears in them. The official cause of death was listed as peritonitis. The police investigation noted that though she was poor and friendless, every effort was taken to find her assailant. Smith and been a prostitute. She was most likely attacked by her pimp or a gang of pimps as intimidation or for refusing to follow orders, they decided.

Several months later detective Walter Dew developed another theory. On the 7th of August, the day after another bank holiday, Martha Tabram was murdered in the same neighborhood. She was a prostitute and had been stabbed many times. At the end of that month, Mary Ann Nichols was murdered. A reporter from the Star may have talked to Walter Dew for the paper soon began to note theories similar to his: all three women had been prostitutes, all in their mid 40's, all from the same area, their murders thought to be the work of gangs of pimps. Perhaps the deaths were the work of the same person.

It was 1888, and in the slums of London, the legend of Jack the Ripper was born.

The April Fool

Most of my morning has been spent working on this post. Everything looked great, lined up the way I wanted, etc. That was in the Chrome browser that Blogger allegedly prefers. When I looked at it in the Internet Explorer Web Browser, it was a bit of a mess. I've spent two hours fighting to get the text and photos to line up properly. And I just can't seem to win this one. Sorry, I have other things to do and I'm leaving it the way it is.

The morning was appropriately groggy. So was I. The very first email I opened contained news that at the last minute the Vermont Views website, which was listing our community radio station (which I run) as "non-profit of the month" had changed its mind. As I sank into a resigned sigh, the words "April Fool!" entered in my consciousness. There was an audible low guttural growl which emerged from somewhere within my being. It's April. The poet called it "the cruelest month". The poet may have been right.

Over the last two weeks, I've started many a post for the blog, only to abandon them all for various reasons. I had a cataract removed and was laid low for three days by reactions to the surgery. One partial post was forsaken when there were problems at the radio station which resulted in the rest of my day, and most of the next, being spent in email correspondence. I no longer feel in control of my time. I wonder if I ever really was.



Unpacking at the new WVEW studio

Yesterday was Easter. I became a bit lost in reverie. I spent most of last Easter working with the radio station's engineer wiring our new studio It had been almost a year since the fire at the Brooks House which had taken us off the air.

Tuesday, April 10th, 2012 - logging into a computer to
turn on the transmitter and return WVEW to the air. 

We lost everything in the fire - our transmitter was in the studio and our antenna was on the roof. When something like that happens, the station is given one year to get back on the air or lose its broadcast license. Before we left the studio that day, I logged onto one of our new computers and used it to turn on our new transmitter which was now located (with our antenna) at a school on a hill on the outskirts of town. For a few brief minutes, we were on the air. I called Laura over at Austanspace and asked her to tune us in. She heard us. It was real, it worked. While we were working in the studio, the Easter Zombie Walk made its way through downtown. It's an annual local tradition. I hope it was held this year, I haven't been able to find anything on it - I had wanted to go out and photograph it. I made my way out to Austanspace's Shire for Easter dinner. That morning, I'd also put up an Easter blog post which addressed my love for those absurd biblical era movie spectaculars. I'd intended to do another one this year. How on earth did I get all that done? And that list of accomplishment is decidedly meager compared to what I used to accomplish on any given day  during my years in New York City. At any rate, two days later, after calling an early halt to the station's Board meeting, I ushered the Board members into our new studio, logged in once more to the transmitter, and returned our station to broadcast mode. This year, I accomplished - nothing much. And I was busy from the moment I got up until the moment I went to bed.


"Jubilee" Jim Fisk

Today is the birthday of James (Jubilee Jim) Fisk. He was one of the Robber Barons of the Gilded Age. Born on the other side of the state, his family moved to Brattleboro when he was a child. His father became the owner and manager of a hotel on the corner of Main and Elliot Streets, known as the Revere House, in the days when Brattleboro was a resort town famous for its "water cure". At the age of 15, he ran away and joined the circus. There are reports that he made a fair amount of money by smuggling cotton during the US Civil War. He became a stockbroker working in the office of Daniel Drew, another famous thief of the financial world. (Drew's money founded a Methodist Seminary which expanded to become Drew University, which I attended in 1968-1969.) Daniel Drew was the kind of guy who used to have his cattle drink water to increase their weight just before their price per pound sale. His shady deals became known for using phony and unauthorized stocks, thereby lowering their value. Such stock were soon called "watered down" in his dubious honor.

At the offices of Daniel Drew, Jim Fiske hooked up with Jay Gould. Together they assisted Drew in manipulating the price of Erie Railroad stock, which they swindled away from Cornelius Vanderbilt. They eventually swindled the Erie away from Drew for good measure. They were openly allied with New York City's notoriously corrupt mayor "Boss" Tweed in the bribing of judges and legislatures. They also caused a financial panic which ruined many investors when they convinced President Grant to purchase and hold on to gold; they had the United States Assistant Treasurer in on the deal while they manipulated the price. For their offices, Gould and Fiske bought the Pike Opera House building at 23rd Street and 8th Avenue in NYC.

Samuel Pike had purchased much of the old Clement Clark Moore estate and built upon it a five story opulent 1,800 seat opera house which cost over a million dollars, unheard of at the time. Although the area quickly became a theater district, Pike was never able to lure patrons away from the Academy of Music on 14th Street. Within a year of its opening, Pike closed it. Fisk and Gould bought it and spent another million renovating the building, renamed it the "Grand Opera House", and became theatrical impresarios as well as financiers.

Pike's Opera House

Josie Mansfield

Now, Fisk had married young, and lived apart from his wife. She stayed in Boston with a close female companion. He also purchased a building close to the Opera House and had a secret tunnel built to connect the two. The apartment was for his mistress, Josie Mansfield, an actress.

Edward Stokes

  Mansfield's affections were soon shared with one of  Fisk's employees, Edward Stokes.  Stokes left his wife and children and moved in with her. Together, they attempted to bribe Fisk through the use of letters which detailed some of his underhanded dealings.  Fisk refused to pay up, and started a public relations battle. Stokes was arrested on charges of embezzlement. (It's a long story.) One year to the day of his arrest later, nearly bankrupt and ruined, Stokes shot and killed Jubilee Jim Fisk on the staircase of the Grand Central Hotel. Fisk was 36 years old.

Fisk's body was brought back to Brattleboro for burial in the Prospect Hill cemetery where a large monument was erected to his memory. The monument's central stone is surrounded by four scandalously underdressed (i.e. bare breasted) women, each of whom holds something connected to Mr. Fisk. One holds pieces of railroad track. One, a money bag. Another holds a steamship (another Fisk story). The last holds an emblem of the Opera House.

Fisk's story became the subject of a 1937 movie, "The Toast of New York", bears a great resemblance to part of the plot for the movie "Citizen Kane", and was the subject of several best selling books. Edward Stokes served four years of his prison term before being paroled. Fisk had given freely to charity and was in held in esteem by many - upon his release, there were numerous threats made against Stokes who spent the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and feeling hunted. Fisk's wife died in poverty in Boston. Josie Mansfield made her way to Paris where she married before returning to the states. The rest of her story is unknown. She was rumored to have lived under assumed names in Boston, and in New Jersey where she allegedly died, as per a report in the New York Times. There is one published report that she found her way back to Paris where she died at the American Hospital. There are also newspaper reports that, paralyzed and in dire poverty, she entered a convent in South Dakota to avoid the poorhouse, passed and was buried in an unmarked grave.

The Grand Opera House puttered on for many years, never very successfully. It was purchased and turned into a movie theatre, the RKO Grand in 1938. It continued operating until 1960 when it was  closed, slated for demolition when the Ladies' Garment Union began  redevelopment of the area into the Penn South residential apartments for union members and their families. Two weeks later, it burned to the ground. It was eventually replaced with a nondescript three story office building, the memories of Robber Barons, the Grand Opera House, Jubilee Jim, his mistress, and the Gilded Age long gone.

A current view of the corner of 23rd Street and 8th Aveue, New York City

The Oscars, Sequestration, and The Age of Snark

Mercury is retrograde again. This is not good; Mercury is my ruling planet. Fleet footed messenger indeed. Harbinger of electronic frustration and disaster is more like it. One of my external hardrives has crashed with a loss of some data. An update to the Chrome browser to make it more secure has rendered it nearly useless. Yup, Mercury is retrograde. It's not that I'm a follower of things astrological. I'm not. I'm much too much of a Virgo for that.

If that comment came off as a little snarky, then I have accomplished at least one goal today. We are, after all, living in the Age of Snark.

The word "snark" is supposed to derive from the combination of "snide" and "remark". In other words, the intent is a sarcastic comment. i.e., one "marked by or given to using irony in order to mock or convey contempt" , "biting", "acrimonious", "snide". The key word is "irony" or "ironic". This implies that there is substance and thought behind the use of a snarky comment. Sadly, in the current practice of snark, there is very little thought or substance to be found. It is cynicism without experience or reason, used in an attempt to be "cool".

This year's Oscars strived to be different.

A perfect example would be last week's Academy Awards. The host was a properly handsome and multi-talented young man whose name already escapes me; I had to look it up. Seth MacFarlane is the man behind a couple of animated tv shows known for wiseacre characters who make pithy comments about modern life, which includes a talking baby genius of snark. And he was the creator of a top grossing movie in which a main character was the adult hero's hilariously potty mouthed teddy bear. I haven't seen the tv shows or the movie, but even without a working familiarity with them it was obvious that this guy wasn't going to be your average Oscar host. This year's show was produced by the guys from Storyline Entertainment. Storyline's mainstay is Craig Zadan who is an openly gay producer of Broadway, film and tv musicals such as the original "Footloose", and the movie musicals of "Chicago", and "Hairspray". With these folks behind the show, it amazes me that people were shocked at the occasionally infantile humor and inclusion of musical numbers. Why did they think these guys were hired?

Seth MacFarlane

In the entertaining, occasionally funny, but too long opening segment, MacFarlane had a song and dance routine tribute to the allure of the movies whose main refrain was "we saw your boobs". The song named names and films. There were reaction shots of many of the women who were named. Anyone paying attention would have noted that the reactions were previously recorded - some weren't even wearing the same clothes as in the live shots. The ladies were in on the joke, lame as it was. The number's finale included the Los Angeles Gay Men's chorus. Paid commentators, and a great host of tweeters, bloggers, and Facebookers went berserk. Negative commentary was literally flying with the speed of light, or at least dsl. The number was instantly denounced as sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, crude and so on and so forth. Excuse me, but what did you folks expect? First off, we're talking the Oscars here - a show famous in modern times for pairing Rob Lowe, just off a major sex scandal, with Snow White for a song and dance. The "boobs" number was as much a commentary on the attitudes of male moviegoers and the selling of an entertainment product by use of nudity as it was an exploitation. It was snark with something behind it. The response was an attempt to be snarky about it all, each writer trying to top the other and so find their fleeting moment of internet fame in what was basically humorless name calling.

The Oscar folks did what they were hired to do. They got the best ratings in years, and MacFarlane's presence brought in a younger demographic for the advertisers.

For anyone who is a reader, the word 'snark' references a nonsense poem by Lewis Carroll, "The Hunting of the Snark" which is told in eight "fits". Varieties of snark are named. Some bite, some scratch. And one, the boojum, can cause someone to vanish away, never to be seen again. It has always been my suspicion that the boojum exists. It is the third named snark. As stated in the poem's preface, "what I tell you three times is true". The boojum does, in fact, make a baker disappear, and drives a banker quite mad. In the poem's original publication as a book in 1876, illustrations by artist Henry Holiday were included. In a moment of prophecy (and modern day snark), the banker bears a stunning resemblance to Republican puppet master Karl Rove. Rove famously engineered the two elections of George W. Bush to the US Presidency by the use of gerrymandering, voter suppression, distortion, misrepresentation, political action committees, and outright lies. In the most recent election, Rove was reduced to the madness of babbling idiocy on Fox News when election returns declared Obama the winner.

Babbling idiocy is very popular just now. It is especially apparent in the reactions to what is being called "sequestration". Technically, sequestration is a legal maneuver in which property is held by a court to prevent it from being disposed of before its proper ownership is resolved. The current use refers to a government policy intended to reduce the government's budget deficit by having the treasury hold back from spending an amount based on a formula set by Congress. We have been told by the commentators, tweeters, Facebookers, and bloggers that there was a political failure engendered by hard-nosed Tea Partiers and Republicans who refuse to budge on the issue of raising taxes, and Democratic ideologues who refuse to budge on issues of entitlement reform and social program spending. They have missed the point. It is all a nonsense poem.

All political sides owe their financial existence to sometimes different, sometimes the same, corporations and their financial aristocrat stockholders. There was no agreement to stave off the latest crisis because there wasn't intended to be one. These folks did the job they were hired to do. The rich are taking what they deem to be theirs. Even the financial publication Bloomberg News has been so appalled by all of this nonsense that they pointed out that the amount of the sequester (i.e. cuts in government programs) is strangely equal to the amount of financial bailouts given this year to the top Wall Street banks. That amount also happens to be the same as the amount of profit those banks are showing. (We're talking roughly $88 Billion here.) Ah, a co-incidence. Like the right horse coming in at the right time on the right track.

Of course, all this is slight of hand. The sequester is a snark. The money, like the 18 Billion cash that got lost from the books during the Iraq invasion, is a snark. "For the snark was a boojum, you see".

Happiness is....

In his essay on the Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus concludes that Sisyphus' eternal struggle pushing that boulder to the top of the mountain only to have it roll backwards and to have to start all over again, is a hopeless task big enough to fill the heart, and that Sisyphus was therefore happy. If Mr. Camus were alive today, I would punch him in the face.

While living without a home internet connection, a friend told me of Fairmuck Communitcations' (not their real name, and I misspelled my real intention to spare any possible finer sensibilities of some of my readers) special offer of $19.99 per month for dsl.
I made the call.
"I want to get your special offer of dsl at 19.99 per month for 12 months as it says in your ad, please."
"To get that price, you must also take our telephoney service..."
"It doesn't say that in your ad."
"Yes, it does, it's in the fine print."
"I saw a part that said 'Save even more by bundling our telephoney service'..."
"Not that part, it was in the fine print. Look at the ad"
"It's an online ad and don't have internet at home."
"It's in the fine print."
"(Sigh) All right, how much will it be with the telephoney service?"
"$39.95 a month, and your dsl will be $19.99".
"So if I pay you more you will charge me less?"

After I asked, it was confirmed that there would be extra charges for local phone calls beyond a stunningly few minutes allotted per month. After I asked, I got the price for just the dsl - $29.95 a month. "That's less than a dollar a day!". I could hear the phoney smile. It would take exactly one week to hook me up, no money upfront. I would not have to be home when they came to install my service connection. I made the deal.

Oopsie - they don't show my apartment number in their records. They will have to add it manually. This will take an extra day. Or two.

The next day I got a call from Fairmuck.
"Sorry, Steven, but due to all the storms in Southern Vermont, we won't be able to install your dsl for two weeks."
"What storms in Southern Vermont? There haven't been anything but thundershowers."
"Oh no, there have been bad storms and flooding, plus very high winds from a hurricane."
"That was a year ago".
"No, there were more recent storms. You wouldn't believe the damage."

A few days went by and the modem (with wi-fi) showed up via Fed Ex. Why it was sent through a premium shipper when my account wouldn't be in service for a week and a half, I don't know. I wasn't billed for it, so I decided not to ask.

On the appointed Friday, I got home to find I'd had a telephone call from Fairmuck. They'd been unable to decide which telephone connector in my apartment building's basement was mine and would need access to my apartment. They would also need access to the locked room in the basement. That room used to house equipment from a once locally owned internet service provider. As I had the following day off, I started placing calls. The phone number for Fairmuck  played a recorded message which informed me that they were closed for the weekend. I called the phone from which the call to me was placed. An individual answered who told me it wasn't a Fairmuck number. When I noted that it was the number from which I'd been called, he told me no one was there and hung up. I called the office again, and found an 800 (free call) number for problems, emergencies, and tech advice. I called it. They couldn't find my account by using my cell phone number. As it turns out, I was assigned an "account phone number" even though I did not sign up for phone service - a number which appeared nowhere on the paperwork that accompanied the modem. I had the next day off from work, could they come back then? They could - if they could get a hold of their local dispatch - but that office was closed until Monday. "Look, I just went through a series of phone calls to make sure I had access to the locked room. Can a supervisor help?" Of course not, but the supervisor did get me a number I could call the next day. I did not complain about the over-modulated endlessly repeating recording of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" 'Summer' movement to which I had been subjected for 20 minutes of hold time.

Next day, rinse and repeat, except that they couldn't find my account with either phone number.

Monday morning, before heading out to work, I called Fairmuck's main number. They couldn't find my account either, but a supervisor finally did. I explained that I had the next day, Tuesday, off. Would they please come back then? The supervisor called the local dispatch office. They could fit me in. Can you tell me approximately what time you might arrive? "They will give you a call around 8am with that information." "Thank You!"

Around 9am Tuesday, I discovered that the hold music had, thankfully, changed.  After a short musicale interlude I got someone who, while obviously American, seemed to have a few difficulties with both technology and any version of the English language that used b-i-g words. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was his first day on the job and that he was nervous. At first, he couldn't find my account. After getting help, he put me on hold to "read the notes". Ten minutes later I was disconnected. After getting someone else on the line, I made them write down my phone number and promise to call me back if we were disconnected. I then had to recount the whole grizzly story even though all I wanted to know was what time I should expect the service person to arrive? It took getting another supervisor on the phone. She called the local dispatch. "They don't have you down for today, they have you behind a technician for Wednesday."   Behind? What? I tried my best to stay calm. Do you know how many people I have to involve to get that room unlocked? My landlord had a stroke, he can't just run right over to unlock it. I took the day off. Your installation person was here on Friday, did some of the work, came back later and found my landlord's rep who got him into the locked room. How much time do you really need? It can be done in a few minutes. Why do I have to fight you to do business with you? Is this why people warned me against Fairmuck? The supervisor talked to dispatch again. They fit me in for that afternoon - as long as there were no "business emergencies". If a business has a problem, Vermont law, I was told, made them go to the business first. About 2:30pm that afternoon, I got a robot call - my appointment for Tuesday was cancelled and rescheduled for Thursday.

This time they found my account pretty quickly. I asked for a supervisor as soon as they answered the phone. No, they had to know why first. I told them. They got me a supervisor. There was no way I would be able to take Thursday off from work or be home at any point during the day. The supervisor called the local dispatch - who was out of the office for lunch and an appointment and there was no one else! I finally got a call about an hour and a half later. Sorry, something had come up, there was no way. I had to go through the story again. I'd had it. I told the supervisor I was tired of all their lies I'd gotten since I placed the first call. I told them that it hadn't taken me long to realize that they had given me a non-existant afternoon appointment just to get me off the phone. I told the next supervisor that if they couldn't get my service connected by the next afternoon after I got home from work, they could come and get their equipment - and would they please mail my letters to my congressmen on their way back to their depot as walking, even with the cane, can be painful some days. The supervisor called dispatch again. An appointment for the next day was easy - that's what they had me down for!

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Just about the same day that I started my Fairmuck adventure, Google sent me an email that they were yanking my July 4th post as I had violated copyrights. They'd been contacted by Sony who claimed ownership of  "Mama, Look Sharp",  and another file in the same post by Jean Shepherd. There was a link where I could see the communication they received.
The link linked me to - the same email.
There was a link where I could fill out a form to protest the action.

I filled out a ton of information, and noted that Sony owned Columbia Pictures (for whom I used to work) which owned the movie version of "1776". The performance video of the song "Mama , Look Sharp" which I had posted was from the 1969 Tony Awards tv performance from that show, and was material not owned by Sony.  I pointed out that the video in my post was a link to a YouTube video, and that YouTube is owned by Google, who owns Blogspot. As the video was still available on YouTube, I suspected that they could easily ascertain that Sony didn't own that particular copyright, and that linking the video was okay. Furthermore, I explained that the Jean Shepherd file used was a public domain 1960's broadcast from radio station WOR and not the country western singer who might have a Sony album. After much work and research, I clicked the "send" button.  My reply went nowhere. I got an error message that the reply address and site didn't exist.

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Meanwhile back at the non-internet ranch, while printing out documents for the radio station, I ran out of paper and ink. I went off to my local Staples office supply store and purchased both, spending well over $60.00. I reloaded. First, my printer refused to align the new print cartridges. It gave me error messages that the print carriage was jammed - it wasn't. Then I discovered the reason the ink had shown as empty was that the previous color ink cartridge had leaked all over the sponges underneath the area where the cartridges load. I spent two days cleaning it all up. Still had the same problem. This was serious - after spending so much on the ink and paper, I wouldn't be able to afford to buy another printer anytime soon. After a couple more days I was able to get the carriage jam comment to go away. Then the printer decided that the new ink cartridges were empty. I spent another day cleaning contact surfaces. It finally saw the ink supplies. But then the printer decided that there was no paper in the paper tray. After two days of fiddling - which included getting out the original printer manual which was no help whatsoever - I gave up and dropped the whole thing onto to the bed. Forcibly, if you get my meaning. It bounced and got me in the shins.

After several days, the swelling is finally starting to go down.
It's alright, though.
According to Camus, I must be happy.

So much for "Private"

Back at the beginning of this year, there was a post on this blog which noted the birthday of an entertainer by the name of Sophie Tucker, who passed away almost 50 years ago. As an illustration of Ms. Tucker's style and song delivery - a style relegated to a time long gone - I created and posted my first You Tube video from materials in my personal files. The video comprised a song clip from a movie released in 1937.  The movie studio involved has been bought and sold several times, and there are hundreds of clips from that studio's movies on You Tube.

The clip was intended solely for use on this blog, and was thus marked "Private".

Today, I received  the following email from You Tube (owned by Google, which also owns Blogger, the host of this site):

help center | e-mail options | report spam

Dear --(I deleted my YouTube account name from this post)---, Your video "SophieTucker.mpg", may have content that is owned or licensed by Quiz Group Pro, but it’s still available on YouTube! In some cases, ads may appear next to it. This claim is not penalizing your account status. Visit your Copyright Notice page for more details on the policy applied to your video. Sincerely, - The YouTube Team

© 2012 YouTube, LLC 901 Cherry Ave, San Bruno, CA 94066 ----------------------- Of course I immediately took a look at my You Tube account. The video was still marked "Private". When played, my video had an advertising banner at the base of the You Tube frame. I worked for many years in the movie business, many of them in the area of repertory and revival titles. I know a lot about copyrights, underlying copyrights (i.e. a song used in a film clip may not be owned by the studio who made the movie), etc. I have never heard of "Quiz Group Pro". I know who owns the copyright to the film clip, and I know who owns the rights to the music. Neither are owned by Quiz Group Pro. Nor are they licensed by Quiz Group Pro. So who is Quiz Group Pro? An internet search turned up a Russian marketing company which claims it is the #1 You Tube partner in Russia. "We run the most profitable revenue sharing programs on YouTube..." Now, my account did not suffer any strikes against it based on their copyright claim - made against a PRIVATE video with a total of 13 views. To have such a claim, they are supposed to have on file with Google/You Tube a copy of the material that the Google/You Tube scearchbot utilizes to see if there are  sufficient similarities to justify their claim. I do not have money. If I did, I would notify Google/You Tube and demand to see the proof of this claim. Such action could open one up to a lawsuit. I did find notice of one person who went to court over such claims (don't know from who) and won, but it is still an expensive proposition. And, if I had money, I would take on Google/YouTube for even allowing such a scan in an area that was supposed to be "Private". Although I was in no way required to do so, I deleted the clip. And the only reason I did so is that I will not provide the vehicle for someone else's free ride advertising revenue.  Caveat emptor and all that.

Earth Day musings and the new normal.

It is one of those days. Move the chair to get closer to the keyboard to type, knock something over. It is Earth Day. The early warmth we had made all the trees on my block leaf out very quickly, and much earlier than normal. Today, though, is cool and gray.

Spring on the Brattleboro Common - about a half a block from my apartment. I took this photo yesterday!

The lilac on the Common (not far from the crab apples in the picture above) as well as one growing in a 2 foot space between two older buildings on the edge of our business district, are both starting to open their blooms a month early. This is the new normal - there isn't any normal. Well, there is, but I find it depressing and try not to let much of it slip into my consciousness. Which is pretty hard to do when it is the major part of one's everyday existence. (And I'm thinking of the "new normal" in politics and economics as well as in the environmental sense.)

How to explain this feeling? Well, let's take Earth Day. Although there were a couple of similar ideas already out there, Earth Day as we know it was founded by US Senator Gaylord Nelson in 1970 as a reaction to the disastrous 1969 oil spill in southern California and the lack of a decent response by the US Government. He based his idea on the anti Vietnam War movement's "teach ins", hoping that education would help raise enough public outcry that something would be done to stem what he saw as an approaching environmental crisis. How have things changed since then? In 2010, this day was celebrated by the sinking to the ocean floor of the drilling platform of the Deepwater Horizon BP Macondo blowout (after an explosion two days previous); an incident otherwise known as the Gulf Oil Spill. Haven't head much about that lately have you? Have you seen or heard of any legislation or regulations passed to protect against shoddy cheap bottom dollar is king construction work to try to help prevent this kind of thing from happening again? Have you heard about the continuing "persistent oil seep" in the Gulf whose chemical analysis identifies it as consistent with the make up of oil from the Macondo 252 well? The phrase in quotes is from an investigative piece published in March 2012. You haven't heard of it because the reporting was done by Al Jazeera. Three days ago, the New York Times reported that BP has, so far, paid out about $ 8 billion to individuals and businesses affected by the spill. (That's out of the $20 billion fund they were forced to set up, which the Times failed to mention.) BP claims to have spent an additional $14 billion in cleanup costs. BP's books show a $37.2 billion charge for their expenses. In case you're curious, the lawyers have so far collected about $600 million. One other thing, aside from the continued deaths of Gulf waters dolphins and whales at twice the normal rate, tar balls still continue to wash up on Gulf shores. According to the National Geographic Society and Ecowatch, the tar balls contain the bacteria Vibrio vulnificus, which can cause fatal blood poisoning and is the causative agent of cholera.

One of these days I'll get around to writing about what I see as the "new normal". In the meantime, I'd explain the phrase by mentioning Monsanto, the giant multinational conglomerate which manufactures rGBH (the bovine growth hormone which leaches into the cows milk and has been identified as an "accelerator" of prostrate, lung and colon cancers), and the toxic weed killer Round Up and much of the genetically modified Round Up resistant seeds (corn, soybeans, etc.) sold in the US. They dealt with the fact that their products are getting the major blame for the destruction of pollinating insects (think bees, among others) by buying the company that does much of the research into bee colony collapse. They made the purchase last September, but the news of it only came to light two days ago. I wonder whatever happened to their anti-trust investigation the US Government started in 2009? I wonder if that was affected by the 2009 appointment of their chief lobbyist ($8.8+ million in 2008) (and a former Deputy Commissioner of the US Food and Drug Administration) to the position of senior adviser to the FDA by President Obama? You know, the FDA. As in Monsanto's should be famous comment, "Monsanto should not have to vouch for the safety of biotech food Our interest is in selling as much of it as possible. Assuring its safety is FDA's job." Oh, by the way,  they are also a former employer of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas (who wrote the Court's majority 2001 opinion that genetically modified seeds were patentable). I won't go into their history of manufacturing DDT, Agent Orange or their worldwide toxic dumping and use of child labor. Happy Earth Day, Monsanto.

Earth Day is also the birthday of J. Robert Oppenheimer, one of the great geniuses of the 20th century. His studies of a range of subjects led directly to Nobel prizes for others. He was nominated three times, but was never given the award. In the early 1940's, he was called upon by the United States government to work on a specific task. He completed his mission, and is now known as the father of the Atomic Bomb. Horrified by the death and destruction his work unleashed, he agitated for organizations to oversee atomic development and for the then new United Nations to oversee and control atomic weapons. For that work, various interests in the US pushed him out of the way of the business of atomic money, and used the anti-communist witch hunts of the 1950's to publicly embarrass and destroy him as they revoked his security clearances. It just wasn't any fun starting a profitably expensive arms race with a Communist liberal loving peacenick running around gumming up the works. Oh, by the way, the atomic arms race isn't over you know. But then again, no arms races are ever over, are they?

Shall we now discuss the new figures on poverty in the United States? Let's not. But if you live in this country, have you noticed a large upswing in crimes such as holdups of convenience stores and banks? We're having quite a few here in Brattleboro these days. Cause and effect and all that.

And as for our hopes for the future being based on education engendered by days like Earth Day, here are a few responses from an article on Facebook this morning about a bank robbery in town yesterday:

Person 1 ...can't see it taken very long to find him one dum ass bank robber

Person 2 - Well lets rember they never caut the guy that robbed to banks on a bike ane one day. So will see how long it takes this time

After a report of an arrest in the case:

Person 3 - Wow they did there job this time.

Person 4 - People really should judge the police when your not the ones putting your life on the line everyday in these situations every day


So much for education. And hope. It is one of those days.