Southern Bookman

Journalists stepping up to sound climate change warnings

Alarms are clanging that the world's losing the battle against climate change.

United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres warned this week after a closed door meeting with global leaders that the Glasgow climate change conference in November will fail if countries don't strengthen pledges to reduce carbon emissions.

Gutterres said that the world must cut emissions by 45 percent by 2030 to control rising temperatures. Instead, humanity's on pace to increase emissions by 16 percent by decade's end.

That would mean a catastrophic 2.7-degree celsius increase in temperatures over pre-industrial averages, instead of the 1.5 degree threshold set in the 2015 Paris agreement.

As the United Nations holds its annual climate change week in New York City, New Yorker magazine columnist and environmental activist Bill McKibben sounded the alarm that immediate action is needed to stop the worst ravages of climate change. Immediate shifts to renewable energy will be less expensive than delaying the transformation, he said.

Along with New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, McKibben targeted West Virginia Democratic  Sen. Joe Manchin, who seeks to slow down climate change action proposed in President Joe Biden's spending plans.

McKibben pointed to Manchin crony Nick Akins, head of West Virginia's American Electric Power, which relies on coal to generate clectricity. Manchin, whose family owns a coal brokerage company and who receives millions in donations from fossil fuel companies, is being solicited by Akins to delay shifts to renewable energy.

Like McKibben, Krugman condemned Manchin holding so much power over decisions upon which the world's fate rests. Krugman reported that West Virginia's coal industry has suffered major losses, and is no longer the state's major employer. Manchin's nostalgic support for coal hurts the state's citizens, Krugman concluded.

The Washington Post's Eugene Robinson echoed Gutterres' warnings, but his climate change villain was Chinese Premier Xi Jingping, not Manchin. Although China seeks to develop solar power, it is also developing a number of coal-powered plants, Robinson said.

Xi is also moving to take control of Chinese companies that had achieved independence under the country's hybrid economic model, the Wall Street Journal reported.

As the globe suicidally increases emissions, and extreme weather worsens, columnists are speaking out. The world's hopes depend on their voices being heard to counter political intransigence and the power of fossil-fuel companies.

Ronald Brownstein's Los Angeles stories

Ronald Brownstein's "Rock Me on the Water: 1974 - The Year Los Angeles Transformed Movies, Music, Television and Politics" gives a more complex analysis of Los Angeles-centered pop culture in the 1970s than implied by the book's misleading subtitle.

While Brownstein cites the release of breakthrough albums by singers Jackson Browne and Linda Ronstadt, the release of "Chinatown" and "The Godfather Part 2," and Jerry Brown's winning the California governorship, the book makes a case for other landmark years beyond the arbitrary selection of 1974. He probes cultural changes from the 1960s through the end of the 1970s, not limiting his narrative to that year.

A senior editor at the Atlantic and a CNN political correspondent, Brownstein champions Los Angeles as the center of American culture in the 1960s and 1970s, citing the city's movie, television and music industries. Although Brownstein covers a lot of familiar ground, he gives a fresh perspective in placing the creative endeavors together. He gives detailed biographies of lesser known screenwriters, producers and musicians.

In television, he cites CBS' ground-breaking “All in the Family," "MASH” and "Mary Tyler Moore Show," all of which appeared before 1974 and already at their peak popularity.

While the shows were produced in Los Angeles, the decisions to place them on the air were made at CBS' headquarters in New York City. And executives at "Black Rock" decided what was permissible in the show's scripts.

CBS' hit shows appeared together in a dynamite Saturday night lineup that drew millions of viewers, long before the rise of cable TV and streaming. Network TV's dominance and massive Saturday night ratings are hard to imagine now that the night is a TV graveyard except for college football. 

Along with the innovative and controversial "All in the Family," "MASH"  and "Mary Tyler Moore," the network's Saturday night closed with the middle-American comedies "The Bob Newhart Show" and "Carol Burnett Show."

While "All in the Family" still appears revolutionary, the book points out that lead actor Carroll O'Connor made bigot Archie Bunker appealing and that many in the audience probably agreed with his views. In an interesting diversion, Brownstein examines O'Connor's bitter dispute with series creator Norman Lear. O'Connor wanted more money and control over the series, which Lear refused to give.

After moving to Monday night, "MASH" continued to receive huge ratings, its comic appeal overriding its anti-war attitudes. Its finale in 1983 was at the time the most highly rated show ever. But as Brownstein relates, American tastes turned to the All-American wholesomeness of ABC's "Happy Days."

Later shows like NBC's "Hill Street Blues" and "NYPD Blue" in retrospect had more long-term revolutionary significance for the rise of shows like HBO's "The Wire" and "The Sopranos." Brownstein doesn't delve into whether "All in the Family" and its spinoffs had any long-term influence.

"Chinatown," "Godfather Part 2" and Robert Altman's "Nashville" represented the end of the revolutionary era of independent films begun by "Easy Rider," "Five Easy Pieces" and "The Graduate," as Brownstein points out. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, members of a younger generation, ended the era of social commentary in films. Spielberg's "Jaws" and Lucas' "American Graffitti" and "Star Wars" brought the era of mass-entertainment blockbusters.

In music, Brownstein looks at how mogul David Geffen boosted the careers of Browne, Ronstadt and the Eagles. He also touches upon the influential careers of Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Geffen's management led to developments like stadium tours, as Brownstein relates.

Yet Geffen's Los Angeles dominance didn't last. He failed in efforts to sign Bob Dylan to a long-term record deal. And New York and London's punk rock scene countered the rock-star excesses of Geffen's groups. While Browne, Ronstadt and the Eagles reached mainstream popularity, their careers were overwhelmed by a truly transformational talent, Bruce Springsteen, whom Brownstein briefly mentions.

Brownstein's weakest argument is that Brown was a major influence in national politics. He looks at Brown's fitful efforts to gain the Democratic presidential nomination without establishing the long-term relevance of his ideas. Little mention is made of Jimmy Carter's presidency or Ronald Reagan's.

While Brownstein's premise is overstated, he presents a valuable comprehensive survey of Los Angeles' culture during the transition from the socially conscious 1960s to the materialistic 1970s. A sense of loss prevails rather than triumph.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Biographies of Stephen Crane, Oscar Wilde highlight new fall books

The biographies of two writers who died in 1900 drew my interest more than any other books in The New York Times' fall roundup Friday.

While several of the new novels and non-fiction books appeared mildly appealing, I was intrigued by new biographies of the major 19th century writers Stephen Crane and Oscar Wilde.

Crane, a groundbreaking journalist and author of "The Red Badge of Courage," and Wilde, the noted wit and author of "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and "The Importance of Being Earnest," both were ahead of their time as writers and pioneers of social freedom.

I was particularly drawn by longtime literary novelist Paul Auster's major biography of Crane, one of my first literary heroes.

Auster in "Burning Boy: The Life and Work of Stephen Crane," to be published Oct. 26, calls the author of "The Red Badge of Courage" and "The Open Boat" America's first modernist, although he never used a telephone or heard a radio.

The author of "The Moon Palace," "The Book of Illusions" and other novels in a distinguished career, Auster seems the perfect guide to Crane, who led a short but adventuresome life before dying of tuberculosis at age 28. 

Along with writing the impressionistic masterpiece "Red Badge of Courage," an account of a young soldier's experience during a Civil War battle believed to be Chancellorsville, Crane as a journalist exposed municipal corruption and covered the Spanish-American War.  He also was a champion for sexual freedom, exiled from New York City after a feud with city police for defending a prostitute he believed unfairly prosecuted.

Matthew Sturgis's "Oscar Wilde: A Life," earlier published in Europe but arriving in the United States Oct. 12, is the first major biography of the Irish writer in 30 years. Sturgis examined a wealth of new documents, including a full transcript of Wilde's ill-considered libel suit against the Marquis de Queensbury, which led to Wilde's imprisonment for homosexuality.

Crane and Wilde were both 19th century trailblazers. I'm looking forward to rediscovering their luminous lives through Auster and Sturgis' books.

New York City looks ahead with return of Broadway, Village Vanguard

Broadway's back, and so is the Village Vanguard.

New York City this week welcomed the return of its famous theater district and vintage jazz club after an unprecedented 18-month shutdown.

One of my favorite New York City landmarks, the TKTS discount ticket booth in Times Square at Broadway and 47th Street, reopened Tuesday as a line of theater lovers waited. A couple from South Carolina bought the first discounted tickets, according to a New York Times roundup of Broadway's reopening.

Long-running favorites "Wicked," "The Lion King," "Chicago," and "Hamilton" again filled Broadway stages. "Waitress" had been running for a couple of weeks, and Bruce Springsteen gave solo performances of his musical beginning in midsummer.

The theater district will get into full swing this autumn with the return of Jeff Daniels in "To Kill a Mockingbird" and Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster starring in a revival of "The Music Man."

Meredith Wilson's ballad "Till There Was You" will sound sweeter than ever when "The Music Man" opens at the Winter Garden Theater in December.

The Village Vanguard reopened Tuesday, beginning a six-day engagement by trumpeter Ron Miles, who's performing with pianist Jason Moran, bass player Thomas Morgan, guitarist Bill Frissell and drummer Brian Blake. 

Wall Street Journal jazz writer Larry Blumenfeld reported Thursday that the vintage Greenwich Village club installed a new mahogany bar and Steinway grand piano during the shutdown. In recent months, the club's been streaming concerts.

Pianist Fred Hersch, who attended Miles' show Tuesday, donated the piano to the club. Hersch, who boosted spirits during the first days of the pandemic with Facebook concerts from his home, will appear at the club with his trio in October.

Blumenfeld reported that music is pulsing again at Birdland, the Blue Note and Jazz at Lincoln Center's Dizzy's Club in New York City. Clubs are also returning in San Francisco. After closing because of Hurricane Ida, Preservation Hall in New Orleans is coming back.

Hamilton writer and star Lin Manuel Miranda appeared on the Richard Rodgers Theater sidewalk to greet the returning audience. He proclaimed "live theater's back" and led a sing-along of "New York, New York."

Broadway had returned after its longest period of darkness.

 

 

At 700th anniversary of Dante's death, world still yearns for love

Dante died 700 years ago Tuesday in a far different world.

Yet, so much of our time appears similar to his: political turmoil and posturing, epidemics, scientific ignorance, religious zealotry, tribal hatreds, war.

Our mega cities, airplanes, superhighways, movies, TVs, medicine, hygiene, and politics would astound Dante. Yet the human personality has not achieved the illumination he envisioned. Like Shakespeare, he's continually discovered by new generations of readers. In our age of climate change, epidemics, mass migrations and fraying democracy, Dante offers consolation.

As our awareness of life's fragility rises, Dante's "Purgatory" is receiving heightened attention from translators, as the New Yorker's Judith Thurman examines in a detailed biographical study of the great Italian poet.

For years, the epic poem's first volume, "Inferno,"  has been the most popular. ""Inferno's" gallery of sinful personalities and their lurid stories captivate readers.

Along with maliciously described villains, "Inferno" offers the heart-rending adulterous lovers Palo and Francesca and the heroic Ulysses. Dante expresses affection for friends and mentors he encounters, mired in ingenious and strange punishments. Disturbing tales like that of Ugolino, who ate his own children, raises shudders along with a strange sympathy.

"Purgatory" gives greater hope of redemption and love's healing power. In Dante's conception, purgatory is a giant mountain that rises from the ocean in the world's southern hemisphere. Unlike hell, it's illuminated by the sun's daily progression. As they cleanse themselves from their sins, penitents climb up the mountain level by level toward heaven.

Dante died in exile, like many today a refugee. His ancient poem forever gives solace to the wounded human heart.

Ann Patchett, Jane Brody in New York Times essays reflect on aging gracefully

Ann Patchett and Jane Brody consider themselves lucky.

The two writers in pieces in The New York Times' Science section Tuesday displayed the pleasures of the classic newspaper essay. Patchett and Brody reflected upon the joys and setbacks of aging.

The 80-year-old Brody, who has written the Science section health column since 1976, discussed activities she's giving up and those she'll continue. She says she was inspired to "take stock of my life" by Steven Petrow's book, "Stupid Things I Won't Do When I Grow Old."

Brody says she's cut back on strenuous exercise but still rides bikes, although long rides are out. She also keeps walking her rambunctious dog in the woods, despite the rough terrain's risk of falling.

Conjuring a fetching image, Brody says she hasn't given up her summertime attire of short-shorts and halter tops.

Patchett, whose essay collection "These Precious Days" comes out in November, expressed her gratitude at only suffering a foot and ankle injury after a recent fall. She says she might have hit her head and received a serious brain injury.

The co-owner of Parnassus Books in Nashville, Patchett in the essay recalls the concern of her husband, a physician, after she tumbled while working out on a step device. Her husband pointed out that she might have struck her head on a bookcase, which would have been ironic for a writer, as Patchett points out.

Harper's magazine has recently published two of the esteemed novelist's essays, one about her unusual friendship with a woman who was Tom Hanks' publicist and the other about Patchett meeting John Updike at an event for the American Academy of Arts and Letters. In the latter, Patchett reflects upon the shifting tides of literary fame and how her joining the academy heightened her sense of mortality.

Patchett and Brody's Times pieces share the light-handed urbanity of classic essays. They look at the travails of aging with an amused spirit of adventure and wisdom.

"Sixty Minutes" honors New York City firefighters' heroism on Sept. 11, 2001

The heroism of New York City firefighters on Sept. 11, 2001, showed the best of humanity amid the devastation and darkness.

"Sixty Minutes" on Sunday night honored the firefighters' extraordinary courage with a poignant report that should always be shown to new generations.

Correspondent Scott Pelley interviewed Fire Department leaders who witnessed and survived the attacks on the World Trade Center, and descendants of firefighters killed seeking to rescue people trapped in the burning buildings before they collapsed. The heroes' sons and daughters, just children on that tragic day, are now firefighters.

The show also rebroadcast incredible video from Sept. 11.  The first plane travels low across the sky and hits the North Tower as firefighters investigating a routine gas leak watch it pass overhead. A production crew that happened to be filming a documentary on the fire department captured the surrealistic scene.

Pelley's report opened the 54th season of "Sixty Minutes," affirming its prominence in American journalism. While the networks' evening news no longer receives the huge audience commanded by anchorman Walter Cronkite, "Sixty Minutes" is still an essential news voice for millions.

In his closing Sept. 11 tribute, Pelley reached the network's news-writing tradition set by Edward R. Murrow, Morley Safer, Eric Sevareid, Cronkite and others.

"We cannot do justice, in this hour, or any number of hours to the sacrifices of the FDNY, the New York City Police Department, the Port Authority Police, and to those who fought to save lives at the Pentagon, and on Flight 93 in Pennsylvania.

At the Trade Center, 2,753 people perished. But there were more than 17,000 in the towers and 99% of those below the fires survived.

That morning, a witness watched firefighters rush to the stairwells and wondered how they found the courage.

After 20 years of reflection, it's clear.

They climbed to rise.

To rise to the cries 1000 feet above them.

To rise to the defense of the firefighter beside them.

To rise beyond duty to a place of selfless devotion."

 

 

Maureen Corrigan upholds literature's importance in review of Sally Rooney's "Beautiful World Where Are You"

"Fresh Air" book reviewer Maureen Corrigan can sound like a "Saturday Night Live" parody of an NPR elitist.

Yet, I've come to treasure the Georgetown professor's reviews on Terry Gross' famous interview show from Philadelphia.

Driving down Roswell Road Thursday afternoon in bright sunshine and a stir of autumn in the air, I was uplifted by Corrigan’s review of Sally Rooney's new novel "Beautiful World Where Are You."

Corrigan's urbane praise of the novel and her understanding of Rooney's writing gave me the warm sense of an international literary community, what was once called "The Republic of Letters."

I was amused when Corrigan said that Rooney's main character, Alice, had suffered a "nervous breakdown" - such an old-fashioned word. Corrigan's cultured voice and sophisticated language were like a conversation from an earlier, more refined era.

Like Rooney a bestselling young novelist, Alice - named for the Lewis Carroll character? - expresses reservations about literary fame, and whether books matter anymore. Corrigan's review affirmed literature's value.

The learned Professor Corrigan revealed that the novel's somewhat puzzling title comes from an 18th century poem by Schiller. Schiller? I never thought I’d hear that name traveling from Sandy Springs to Buckhead.

In Corrigan’s review, the beautiful world shimmered for a moment.

"Call My Agent" awakens longing for Paris

I've got a raging case of Paris fever, thanks to the French series "Call My Agent."

After recently discovering the comedy streaming on Netflix with English subtitles, I'm half-way through the second of four seasons. The misadventures of film agents vying against each other at the claustrophobic firm A.S.K. has me wanting to take the next plane to the beautiful city on the Seine.

Most of the show takes place in the agency's hothouse offices, but it gives tantalizing glimpses of Paris restaurants, streets, apartments and vistas.

The show reminds me of "Emily in Paris," criticized for its superficial and cliched portrait of French society. "Call My Agent" also explores familiar French themes, but deeply examines the country's personality behind the stereotypes.

French film stars appear as themselves in each episode, dealing with movie industry disputes and conflicts that may or may not be based on real life. Stars like Juliette Binoche, Nathalie Baye and Isabelle Adjani are presented as regular people.

The agents' petty schemes, jealousies, egoism and self-indulgence contrast with moments of love and tenderness. Branded as a comedy, "Call My Agent" treats eternal themes of the human condition with depth and resonance.

Watching the series gives me a strange homesickness for Paris, the beloved City of Light.

 

 

Farewell Sam Cunningham, USC star who dazzled Bear Bryant's Crimson Tide

Sam "Bam" Cunningham gained football immortality on Sept. 12, 1970, leading the USC Trojans to a 43-21 blowout over the Alabama Crimson Tide at Birmingham's steamy Legion Field.

Cunningham scored two touchdowns and rushed for 135 yards, forcing Southern football fans to acknowledge the excellence of black players, who came to dominate college sports in the region.

One of USC's all-time great running backs, along with Frank Gifford, O.J. Simpson, Marcus Allen and Reggie Bush, Cunningham died Monday at age 72 at his home in Inglewood, Calif.

Contrary to myth, Cunningham's performance against Alabama in the blazing afternoon sun didn't push Crimson Tide Coach Bear Bryant to recruit black players to his alma mater.

Bryant had already signed black halfback Wilbur Jackson, who watched the USC game from the stands because freshmen were then ineligible, as al.com reporter Greg Stephenson noted in an excellent obituary on Cunningham. Black defensive end John Mitchell, a junior college transfer, also played for Alabama in 1971 when the Crimson Tide defeated USC at Memorial Stadium in Los Angeles.

In 1970, black players had already arrived in the South. Alabama played a game in 1969 against Tennessee, which had one black player. Kentucky in 1965 signed black football player Nate Northington, the SEC's first black athlete. Tennessee and Kentucky signed the conference's first black basketball players, and Bryant as Alabama's athletics director had encouraged basketball coach C.M. Newton to do the same.

Although Bryant was already recruiting black players, the 1970 USC game attained major significance in the South’s acceptance of integration, as Los Angeles Times sportswriter David Wharton detailed in a tribute to Cunningham.

USC with 12 black players and an all-black backfield including Cunningham was the first fully integrated team to play in Alabama, a landmark for the South.

Cunningham and his black teammates later recalled their concerns over traveling to a city that had violently resisted the civil rights movement. USC Coach John McKay's scheduling of the game and the team's dominant performance in a hostile environment showed courage.

USC was college football's most glamorous team, and the Trojans' traveling to Birmingham from glitzy Los Angeles reflected the South's emerging urban sophistication.

No. 3 USC's convincing win over No. 16 Alabama was one of several Southern civil rights advances connected to sports.

The Braves' move to Atlanta in 1966 with black stars Henry Aaron, Felipe Alou and Rico Carty fostered tolerance, belied by hatred spewed at Aaron for breaking Babe Ruth’s career home run record.

In the NCAA national basketball championship game in 1966, Texas Western's all-black lineup upset Adolph Rupp's all-white Kentucky team. 

Syracuse’s black running backs Jim Nance and Floyd Little drew national attention and controversy when they played against all-white LSU in the 1965 Sugar Bowl. 

After the legendary game in Birmingham, Cunningham continued his stellar college career, earning All-American honors. He scored four touchdowns in USC's 17-10 victory over Ohio State in the 1973 Rose Bowl, which gave the Trojans the national championship.

Advancing to the NFL, Cunningham played nine years for the New England Patriots and remains the team's leading all-time rusher. His younger brother, Randall Cunningham, starred for the Philadelphia Eagles.

In 1970, Sam Cunningham ran for glory in Birmingham, blazing a new path for Southern sports. Sadly, the larger society has not yet followed.