Chasing the Blues

August, the Dog Days, or is that old man wolf howling at the door?

Another long assumed certainty crumbles: the U.S. no longer has a AAA credit rating. Chatterers on CNN say don't worry, it really means nothing. The Wizard of Oz scenario once more; pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

Nothing better to do while waiting for the Apocalypse and or the start of college football season than to deeply engage with the Braves. Now they are playing at the Mets' Citi field. Although the Mets are severely diminished, another victim of the financial crash except for the splendid Reyes, the Braves playing there always seems more like real baseball than when they're playing against a team like the Arizona Diamondbacks, which could disappear tomorrow and I wouldn't care. New York among other things means baseball to me. 

Of course, watching the Braves on TV pushes my tolerance for the cornball announcer Chip Caray, who shows little of the talent for low-rent humor of his dad, Skip, or his grandad, Harry. Recently, I escaped Chip by listening to the Braves on the radio with Don Sutton and whoever his partner is. Sutton and pal give more insightful analysis and a more pointed, adult humor. But, I like to watch on TV. Perhaps I'll turn down the sound and listen to the radio.

Last night, the Braves at last bested the Mets behind Dan Uggla's amazing revival. The Braves broke through when the Mets removed their young knuckleballer R.A. Dickey, one of the traditionalists who wears his uniform trousers above his stockings. Watching Dickey's knuckleballs, I wanted the pitch to be banned, like the spitball. Although I loved Phil Niekro, and even Hoyt Wilhelm, the knuckleball seems bogus, based on trickery more than skill. Dickey appears to be an OK guy, a bit nervous, but I say throw the slider, the fastball, the curve or get out of the game. Ban the knuckleball!

Even my TV viewing's lost, after the end of "Treme." I watched the three episodes of a strange little show on PBS, "Zen," which starred Rufus Sewell as a detective in Rome. I liked the depiction of the ancient, corrupt Italian city, and a luscious Italian actress who after making it as a Bond girl to Daniel Craig now does three-episode Masterpiece series shows. I'm unable to get back to "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Entourage," both of which I've already buried. 

So, after long days of eyeball-searing work, I ruin the old orbs even further with reading. Faulkner's "The Hamlet," a long tome on World War I, books on Huey Long, Jonathan Yardley, the New Yorker, Commonweal, the Kenyon Review, the New York Review of Books, The New York Times. At times, I'll sit down and play the piano, lately I've been practicing on "Rally Round the Flag Boys."

 

"Treme" Explores Relationships

"Treme" gets stronger, with the backbone of the show our relationships: Father and son, mother and daughter, husband and wife. It's also getting a surer handle on New Orleans, especially the Indian culture. The shows last year on the subject were strained, but this year the Indian tradition is explored naturally, without forced insistence on how "vital" and "interesting" and "authentic" it all is.

...When I was in Baton Rouge recently, I bought "Earl Long in Purgatory," a play by Jason Berry. It's a one-man show about Huey Long's younger brother and just as much a political legend. "Uncle Earl" stories are part of the education of Louisiana political junkies. The play's language is stilted and artificial on the page; not all like Uncle Earl's,, but his truly unique verbal genius would be difficult to match. Perhaps it plays better on stage; the plot is also difficult to accept. Berry's introductory essay, "The Madness of Earl Long," is well-done though, and the cover painting by George Rodrique is wonderful.

...Watching the U.S. Open at Congressional on HD TV, with its vivid colors and every slope finely delineated, leads me to compare the first tournament I remember watching; Ken Venturi's victory at Congressional in 1964. I recall seeing Vernturi's win in black-and-white, he wearing gray pants, white shirt and Ben Hogan cap, staggering home across a gray landscape. And, back then, they probably only showed about four holes. Actually, I remember watching an earlier Open, when Jack Nicklaus won his first tournament, beating my hero Arnold Palmer in a playoff at Oakmont. The then beefy Jack was probably about the same age as Rory Mcllroy is today. I hope the Irish lad can hang on, but I still will be pulling for an unlikely charge from Phil Michelson. 

...I still love the New Yorker under David Remnick, but I miss the old in-depth golf pieces by Herbert Warren Wind. We still have the baseball pieces by Roger Angell from time to time, but the New Yorker has never tried to replace Wind, or even cover golf, or many other sports for that matter. Yet the magazine pays homage to its sports tradition by putting out an anthology of its classic sports pieces. Perhaps there's too much sports coverage elsewhere for the New Yorker to bother with it, but well-considered, well-written sports pieces would stand out against the ESPN and sports-talk radio bombast.

 

Farewell to Bobby Thomson

Bobby Thomson's death comes in late summer, when the anticipation of autumn grows keen. I associate Thomson's famous home run, overly hyped as "the shot heard round the world," with fall, the end of a season, shadows across a green field in the dying afternoon.

The opening chapter of Don DeLillo's novel "Underworld"  explores the significance of Bobby Thomson's home run, which won the 1951 National Leage pennant for the New York Giants and crushed the Brooklyn Dodgers in sudden, shocking defeat. On a crisp autumn morning, I first heard of DeLillo, and Thomson for that matter, while driving to the Lenox MARTA station. Bob Edwards, who  if I remember correctly  was still working at NPR at the time, marked the anniversary of Thomson's home run by interviewing DeLillo, or perhaps just reading his short story "Pafko at the Wall," appearing in that month's Esquire magazine.

The short story, the basis for the opening chapter of "Underworld," talked about the deciding playoffs game for the National League pennant, the fans rushing to the stadium, the New York Giants announcer Russ Hodges in the booth, the Brooklyn Dodgers' two-run lead in the ninth inning, the bringing in of the Dodgers' ace Ralph Branca with two Giants on base, Thomson's swing, Hodges' famous call, "The Giants Win the Pennant," and Dodgers left fielder Andy Pafko's disconsolate sag against the short fence in the old Polo Grounds. That day after work, for the first time in years I bought Esquire to read the story, and later purchased "Underworld" on the very day it was published. Even 13 years ago, when the book came out, the publication of a major novel generated great immediacy and excitement, which I rarely if ever feel today. Reading the book, which had as a central motif a search to discover the lost ball hit by Thomson, awoke within me a fascination for the game and Thomson's blast. Later, I searched the Internet and found a photo of Pafko at the wall (above left), which I printed out and kept taped to my desk at work.

The home run capped a Giants run to the pennant after being at one point 13 games behind the Dodgers. When asked about the Giants' chances, Brooklyn manager Charlie Dressen said about Leo Duroucher's club, "Are the Giants still in the league?" The Giants, with their brilliant rookie Willie Mays, steadily gained ground on the Dodgers. Later, a Wall Street Journal writer, with apparently no need to keep up with the stock market, uncovered evidence of an ingenious Giants system to steal opponents' signs. The article even hinted that Thomson knew what pitch was coming from Branca -- a fastball -- although Thomson steadfastly denied being tipped off.

The event continues to shine in the imagination of baseball lovers, although many other dramatic home runs have been hit since, several of them winning the World Series, not just the pennant. It was the dawn of the television era, but only a few people had TVs in the home as yet, especially outside of New York and other big cities. I have the impression of most TV viewers witnessing the home run on sets in neighborhood bars.  Radio and newspapers were still the dominant media for sports and news. Baseball was still the undisputed sports king; avidly followed throughout the land, although one wonders if Thomson's home run was that earth-shattering outside of the metropolis. It seems a very New York-centric moment.  The home run was an epochal moment in the ancient Dodgers-Giant rivalry, but proved anticlimatic; the Giants were on to lose to the New York Yankees in the World Series in five games.

After Thomson's home run, TV would rise in in importance, bringing with it the primacy of pro football over baseball in the sports world. The 1958 NFL championship game between the Baltimore Colts and New York Giants would mark the new dominance of both pro football and TV.

Following Thomson's death at 86 on Tuesday, ESPN's "Baseball Tonight" had the good sense to interview Branca, forever linked with Thomson. The two had made a career of recalling the home run, appearing together at autograph shows and other events. Branca's strong New York accent sounded vibrant as he gracefully said farewell to his old nemesis. Once again, a grainy black and white film showed him as a young man, standing on the mound and throwing the ball, and Thomson swinging.

On deadline, Red Smith wrote an account of Thomson's shot for the old Herald-Tribune. Red Smith and Don DeLillo; two masters who recorded the event for different purposes and for different audiences. TV and film recorded the event, but Thomson and Branca's immortality is captured best in Red Smith and Don DeLillo's language.

 

Farewell, Tony Judt

The Sunday New York Times reported the death of Tony Judt, New York University professor and noted "public intellectual" who stirred the anger of America's pro-Israeli community with his essays aruging Israel should be a secular state, part Arab and Palestinian. In recent years, Judt had been battling Lou Gehrig's disease, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

Over recent months, I've enjoyed Judt's autobiographical essays in The New York Review of Books, some of the most pleasurable writing I've found in a while. His accounts of growing up in Britain, coming to the United States and immersing himself in the free-wheeling American culture (as a young man, he made a cross country automibile trip that he details), and his academic background were vivid and imaginative, capturing a certain time, place and culture with the immediacy of a fine novel or movie. His last piece I read, in the July 16 NYR, gave an impassioned defense of the necessity of the precise use of worlds, although I found it a bit off-base, since he directs his criticism at today's Internet-oriented students, when the abuse of language has been going on for decades.

Before discovering these memoirs, I'd been reading for years his pieces on European culture and history, world and national politics, and Israel and the Mideast, although I'd found these much tougher going. After making the effort to go through one of his pieces, I felt as if I'd consumed my intellectual fiber.

His views on Israel, which according to The Times led to the cancellation of a lecture at New York University and his banishment from the pages of Marty Peretz's New Republic, I felt I lacked the knowledge to judge, although they made a convincing case. His views don't seem that far away from those of The New York Times' Tom Friedman (see Friedman's Aug. 8 column).

Judt also brought his battle with ALS to the public, including an interview I heard on Terry Gross's "Fresh Air." He poignantly conveyed the paradox of his illness, that such a verbal and articulate witness to the world was losing his ability to communicate orally and losing his command over his own body. He also expressed sorrow that he wouldn't live to see his sons grow into maturity.

At his death, I can only hope that the NYR has a few more autogtraphical pieces by him to keep publishing. If not, I'll miss the reading pleasure of his urbane, funny (especially when looking back upon his own foibles) and  intelligent voice.

Rolling Stone Shows Validity of Old-Time Reporting

Bill O'Reilly dismissively said how shocking it was that "a magazine like Rolliing Stone" could bring down Gen. Stanley McChrystal. O'Reilly is apparently unaware of Rolling Stone's history of strong political reporting, although it is best known for covering music. Yet from Matt Taibbi's recent eviseraction of Goldman-Sachs, stretching back to the days of Timothy Crouse and Hunter S. Thompson, Rolling Stone has made its presence known in political and social journalism. 

Apparently McChrystal didn't realize either the magazine's political power. Why else would he give such asscess to freelance writer Michael Hastings, who himself expressed shock at how open McChrysal and his staff were. Hastings was also surprised at the level of pessimism expressed over the U.S. situation in Afghanistan. McChrystal never resorted to the old "my comments were taken out of context" dodfw,

How quickly the article's brushfire exploded, showing the power of the Internet. The article hasn't even appeared on the newstands yet, and already the general is gone. Still, the magazine should be a hot seller when it appears on Friday.

Kudos to MSNBC's Rachel Maddow for getting a first-night interview with Hastings, now in Afgrhanistan writing for Men's Journal. While the Internet intensified the speed of the article's influence by a factor of 100 or more, the article  shows the power of old-fashioned reporting.

With the Obama administration's problems in Afghanistan, it's worth looking back at the late New York Times writer R.W. Apple's piece on Oct. 31, 2001, calling the U.S. military action against the Taliban in Afghanistan the beginning of a quagmire. Apple was roundly criticized at the time, especially after the U.S. military quicklly quelled the Taliban and dispersed Al Queda. Now, in retrospect, Apple's piece looks prescient.

 

Ray Bradbury's Philosophy

Ray Bradbury gave some good advice in a recent Paris Review interview: "I have three rules to live by. One, get your work done. If that doesn't work, shut up and drink your gin. And when all else fails, run like hell!"

The interview, paired with one of the nonfiction writer John McPhee, contains a wealth of thoughts on writing, craft, education, science and ideas. The self-taught Bradbury is one of those American originals who grew fully formed and unique out of the country's dynamic native culture. I've read some of Bradbury's work over the years, and the interview made we want to immerse myself more deeply into it.

His thoughts made an interesting contrast with McPhee's. Unlike the meticulous, Princeton-educated McPhee, who relentlessly creates outlines and diagrams for his work, Bradbury says "when you plot books, you take all the energy and vitality out." This shows the difference between a writer who works from real life reporting and one who creates his characters and stories from the imagination. What connects McPhee and Bradbury is their great love of libraries, and the traditional book. McPhee talks of working in Princeton's Firestone library, and Bradbury of educating himself in the public libraries of California.

In closing, here's some more Bradbury philosophy from the spring 2010 Paris Review interview: "I don't believe in optimism. I believe in optimal behavior. That's a different thing. If you behave every day of your life at the top of your genetics, what can you do? Test it. Find out. You don't know -- you haven't done it yet. You must live life at the top of your voice! At the top of your lungs shout and listen to the echoes." 

An Evening With American Masters

While reading the Paris Review, I listened to pianist Hank Jones and saxophonist Joe Lovano's "Kids, Live at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola." Jones had died a couple of days before at age 91, which I'd discovered by listening to Terry Gross' "Fresh Air." Terry replayed an interview with Jones from a few years before, when he was enjoying success late in life as a solo performer after years as a relatively unknown sideman and session player.

The duo album with Lovano was part of that remarkable late flowering. The album is wonderful, a display of refined bebop (Jones didn't care for that word, he told Terry) modernism, a well-wrought balance between discordance and melodic harmony. While Lovano is at the forefront on many of the numbers, Jones emerges on a lovely rendering of "Oh What a Beautiful Morning," from Rogers and Hammerstein's "Oklahoma." Jones' life is a testament to perserverance and artistic dedication.

The Paris Review also highlighted enduring American masters, with interviews of nonfiction writer John McPhee and science fiction novelist Ray Bradbury, along with new poems by Charles Simic. I'd picked up the Paris Review, which I've been reading for years, because I was curious if  new editor Lorin Stein had made any changes. However, I discovered upon bringing the journal home that the issue had still been produced by the old editor, Philip Gourevitch, who had replaced the eminent George Plimpton after Plimpton's death. I and other Paris Review watchers will have to wait and see how the new kid does.

McPhee in his interview goes fairly deep into his writing techniques, echoing the course he teaches at Princeton. Simic's poems generally felt self-imitative, with one or two I found striking. To come is the Bradbury interview: as the last notes of Lovano and Jones faded away, I bid Jones farewell and headed off to bed.

From One Master to Another: John Lahr Profiles Neil Simon

One of my favorite New Yorker writers, John Lahr, contributed a fond profile of Neil Simon in the May 3 issue of the magazine. Lahr delved into the discussion about whether Simon is really a "serious" artist, since his plays have been so popular and have always been comedies rather than serious drama. Lahr convincingly makes the case that the criticism of Simon is dubious, especially since he is such a serious craftsman, conscientiously revising his work. Any writer who creates memorable characters that audiences find mirrors their experience is an important artist.

Lahr relates an interesting anecdote: that a character in Simon's "Sunshine Boys" was modeled after his father, Bert Lahr, the great vaudevillian who so memorably played the Cowardly Lion in the movie "The Wizard of Oz." The droopy-eyed and baleful looking Bert also performed in the first American production of Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot." Again, as he did in his fine book "Notes on a Cowardly Lion," Lahr notes his father's tortured feelings toward his craft. If Lahr were meant to enjoy it, he said, he would be among those buying tickets.  Funny for such a great performener, the bit about Bert Lahr that Simon echoes in "The Sunshine Boys" concerns a potato chip commercial in which Lahr performed.

The piece is full of theater, and writing, lore. Lahr talks a bit about Simon, and his brother Danny, writing for Sid Caesar on "The Show of Shows." Caesar's hit show had some of the best comic writers, including Mel Brooks, Larry Gelbert and the young Woody Allen. Allen eventually wrote comic material with Danny, also was even more of an exhaustive rewriter than his brother. One observation from Allen. He says that he learned from Danny that the most important part of a joke is not the punch line, but the straight line.

With vivid portrayals of Neil Simon and his brother, along with Bert Lahr, Allen and actors like Jack Klugman and Walter Matthau, the piece evokes the magic of Amercian performance, whether in the theater, movies or television. The Lahrs, the Simonses, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks: New York's Jewish culture incubated legends who drew upon their often painful childhoods to make us laugh, if only to keep from crying.   

New York Times Extols New Yorker's Remnick

The New York Times is showing the love to New Yorker editor David Reminick. On Monday, the Times ran an admiring profile on Remnick, emphasizing his prodidgious multitasking ability in editing the New Yorker, while writing articles and books. Then, top reviewer Michiko Kakutani swooned in an arts front review of Reminick's "The Bridge," a biography of President Obama.

The Times praise of Remnick is unusual; The New York Times and The New Yorker have mostly ignored each other from their exalted realms. Some of the great New Yorker writers had newspaper backgrounds, but not from The Times. Joseph Mitchell came from the Journal-American, and A.J. Liebling the Herald Tribune. The Herald-Tribune also turned its guns ont the New Yorer when it published Tom Wolfe' wrote his celebrated "Little Mummies" devastation of William Shawn's solipistic magazine..

Remnick is a remarkable story. Taking over soon after the Tina Brown era, he has returned the New Yorker to the Harold Ross and William Shawn traditions of producing quality journalism without bombast. Brown, taking over a moribound magazine, sought to keep the magazine in the spinning lights of media attention. With her publicity-hungry strategy, she probably kept the magazine alive. Now Remnick keeps the magazine's profile low, while his fine staff writes some of the best stories around. He combines the best of the Brown and Shawn philosophies. While he encourages his writers to produce fairly lengthy stories (nothing like the Shawn era, however) about somewhat recondite subjects, he has kept Brown's innovations such as the use of photography.

The New York Times profile made a big deal out of Remnick's cost-cutting ability. He has actually kept the magazine profitable, unique among the Conde Naste stable. Financially,and journalisically, the New Yorker appears to be in its best condition since the heyday of Shawn. While keeping tabs on expenses, and editing a high quality magazine, he has also found time to write books like the 650-page biography of Obama, now seen as the first major work on the president outside of Obama's own memoirs.

As a longtime subscriber of the New Yorker, I feel like a member of a vanishing tribe. I admire Remnick for keeping the New Yorker viable, for giving me and my fellow tribal members strong journalism, outstanding criticism, and compelling short stories and poems. I doubt, however, whether such anachronistic virtures will survive.

The New York Times Hits Hard on Everglades Deal

Just when you believe The New York Times is in decline, the newspaper comes up with a great piece of journalism that shows that its glory days may not yet be over. Such was the case with Monday's mega piece on how the deal between the state of Florida and United Sugar Co. to save the Everglades has fallen apart, and how United Sugar is now dominating negotiations to its benefit.

The story traces how an original ambitious plan to buy all of the Everglades land from United Sugar and restore the famed "river of grass" has been cut back, with United Sugar planning to hold on to extensive properties and receive higher-than-market-value payments for the rest. The piece by Don Van Natta Jr. and Damien Cave, which stretches over two full pages, shows the continued strength of "long-form" journalism. Alas, it's the kind of major investigative work that used to be carried out regularly by the Miami Herald, which is unlikely to have the kind of resources to do such stories now. The New York Times, even with its declining economic prospects, often steps in now to do local and regional stories that local dailies no longer provide. I regularly find interesting local stories in the NYT not found in the local paper.

...The Sunday New York Times magazine, which often goes awry, also hit the target with two pieces last week: Jody Rosen's profile of folk harp player/singer/songwriter Joanna Newsom and Elizabeth Green's look at how to improve teachers. Apparently, the best teachers are those who are able to carry out simple steps to get their children to follow directions and stay on course.

...Speaking of education reform, school expert Diane Ravitch's turn against charter schools and standardized testing is the talk of the education community. Ravitch, a high-ranking education official in the George H.W. Bush administration, was known as the leading proponent of charter schools and standardized testing. Now, she sees yesteryear's solutions as today's problems.

The Wall Street Journal editorial page, to its credit, ran an interesting op-ed article by Ravitch on March 9: "Why I Changed My Mind About School Reform." The WSJ, a staunch proponent of school choice and charter schools, surprised me by offering a strongly stated contrary view.

In reading about education reform, I grow somewhat mystified at all of the talk about how difficult it is to turn around public schools. Schools in affluent suburbs do well, and students excel whose parents insist on devotion to study and who help their children with their lessons. Asian students continue to achieve, especially in math and science. Back when our public schools were the envy of the nation, most parents across America inculcated those regular study habits and proper classroom behavior.

Of course, the country has gone through wrenching cultural and social changes, and weakened parental commitment has led to eroding student discipline and diligence. The experts in The Sunday New York Times magazine story carry out extensive research into how to get teachers to give clear instructions and the like, which sounds simplistic but apparently isnt. But all of the research in the world won't lead to school improvement unless students are prepared to learn. Undoubtedly, it will be difficult to instill such discpline across different ethnic groups and socio-econmic levels from birth through kindergarten to elementary school to high school. President Obama and his education secretary, Arne Duncan, appear to have some good ideas. But so did George H.W. Bush, President Clinton and President George W. Bush. Many schools continue to fail.