Thursday, February 27, 2014

Lee Daniels’ The Butler – A Necessary and Compelling Film for Black History Month

First appeared on Blogcritics.

As Black History Month draws to a close, I have heard some of the usual suspects on talk radio and on TV still complaining about it. I am not sure why after all these years, but the annual celebration of Black History Month always comes into question. People say, “Well, we don’t have a Native American History Month or an Irish History Month” and so on. While these people are rehashing old arguments, they do not diminish the fact that there are many powerful reasons to celebrate Black History Month. I invite you to sit down and watch Lee Daniels’ The Butler, and once you have experienced the film, I doubt you will ever question why we have a month devoted to black history.


butler 3Director Daniels and writer Danny Strong have crafted an epic story covering many turbulent decades in the 20th century. By having our hero Cecil Gaines bear witness to some vivid atrocities, to see the horror of racism, the sometimes sordid behind the scenes political machinations, and to get to know some of the men who sat on the Oval Office, we are given a bold but unique view of America at its best and worst. The always brilliant Forest Whitaker, one of our finest actors and surely also one of the most unappreciated, plays Gaines with a combination of dignity and compassion. He experiences the trauma early in his life of seeing his father murdered by a white owner of the farm where they work. His father’s only crime was to stand up to the wealthy man who had raped his wife, and for that he is shot in the head. From that point on a young Cecil knows he has to get out of that area, make his way north, and change his life.


butler 1Along the way Cecil meets a cast of characters portrayed by some of the finest actors of our times. The list is too long for our purposes here, but imagine a cast that includes such notable thespians as Vanessa Redgrave, Jane Fonda (as Nancy Reagan), Cuba Gooding Jr., Oprah Winfrey (as his wife Gloria), Clarence Williams III, Liev Schrieber (in an amazing portrayal of LBJ), and Robin Williams (as President Eisenhower), and you can understand that Mr. Daniels has used every resource to make this film shine brightly.

The thing is that we can briefly get caught up in all this window dressing, enjoying the good fun of spotting each celebrity. It took me a while to realize that it was Alan Rickman portraying Ronald Reagan, until he gave himself away with a slightly Snape-like piece of business (won’t mention exactly what here). Alongside Fonda (in a killer Nancy impersonation) the two almost seem like figures at Madame Tussaud’s museum rather than real people (which I think is Daniels’ whole point).

butler 4Still, despite some fine performances and delightful cameos, the core of this film is Cecil Gaines – a man of decency, integrity, and some ambition – and his reaction to each president. As his status as a “butler” enhances his life (and that of his family) Gaines feels confidence and security that his parents never knew; however, as his eldest son Louis (a powerful David Oyelowo) attends Fisk University and becomes increasingly militant, Gaines is at first conflicted but  eventually rejects Louis and his world by throwing him out of the house when he comes home for a visit.



The story is Cecil’s journey to recognition of realities that he may have not understood or even wanted to see. Even though his work as a butler has provided for his family, he also comes to an awareness of the profound injustices that black people still experience (such as black workers at the White House getting paid less than white ones). As Cecil’s standing and reputation increase, Cecil speaks up for his fellow workers and himself in an effort to change the policy.


Along the way the his wife Gloria supports him but also appreciates that his work as the White House butler has provided a life she could never have known otherwise. She too is angered by Louis, who ends up joining the Black Panthers, and then their younger son Charlie (Elijah Kelley) enlists and goes to Vietnam. Both Gloria and Cecil are shaken by these developments and begin questioning what is going on in the world in more realistic ways. The story takes Cecil from his beginning days in Dwight D. Eisenhower’s White House through to his retirement under Ronald Reagan.
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These were some of the most troubled times in our country, and the unparalleled vantage point of Cecil’s position gives the viewer a window into a world the public rarely sees. Through it all Whitaker’s Gaines stands as an admirable figure who endures abuse and earns respect, and the tale of his life becomes a story that unfolds against a stark reminder of some of the most repugnant elements of American history. These are things that warrant telling, and the film is an excellent opportunity during Black History Month (or any other month for that matter) to allow people to consider the truth of the American black experience from a necessary and compelling perspective.


Lee Daniels has given us a powerful, honest, and bittersweet portrayal of one man’s story that mirrors decades of struggle, of violence, and hard-won victories for all Americans. The loss of men such as John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, and Dr. Martin Luther King are noted as part of the sad fabric of difficult times, but there is also the awakening of awareness and freedom that culminates for a long retired Cecil when Barack Obama is elected.

The Butler needs to be seen, but the PG-13 rating does merit a warning for younger children. My daughter (in junior high) saw it with me and got a little upset with some scenes, but she also learned so much, and I think that she wouldn’t have been any less shaken by something like The Hunger Games.

You should see The Butler whenever you can to enjoy powerful performances – incredulously Whitaker and Winfrey were not nominated for Oscars – and a rich story that is not just for blacks but for all Americans and citizens of the world. The truth shown here is one we all need to witness and understand because, even with Mr. Obama in the White House, in matters of race in America it’s obvious we have miles to go before we can sleep.

  Photo credits: imdb.com, insidemovies.ew.com, salon.com, dailymail.co.uk.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Presidents’ Day - Should We Honor All Presidents On This Day?

First appeared on Blogcritics.

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These are the same faces that were on the
 posters in my classrooms when I was a boy.
 
When I was a boy in school, we celebrated George Washington and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays individually. My recall of those snowy February school days long ago is increasingly less clear now, but I remember vividly the big posters of George and Abe that the teachers would tack up on the bulletin boards. Looking back at it now, it seems every teacher in every grade had the same two posters. As I think of them, I can remember the expressions on both presidents’ faces staring at me through the gauzy years with those eyes seemingly focused just on me.


Of course, this was before the thing we now call Presidents’ Day. While the federal government still recognizes this third Monday in February as Washington’s Birthday (which is actually February 22), it has been a long time since it was known as that to the public. Since the 1980s when I was first teaching, we called it “Presidents’ Day,” but I followed the teachers I once had and tacked up pictures of Abe and George in my classroom (oddly enough, the same exact posters from my youth that I had found on a shelf in my classroom closet).



I have heard all sorts of arguments for and against honoring all presidents on this day. There are the purists (usually history teachers or grumpy old fellows who fondly remember inkwells) who will argue that inclusion of any other president waters down the significance of George and Abe, whose individual birthdays are no longer holidays. Should we not honor only them both on this day since their birthdays are now overlooked?


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Mount Rushmore
However, there are many among us who think all presidents should be celebrated. Of course, there are those presidents who stand out as more formidable figures in history. Obviously, some will point to the four faces on Mount Rushmore as evidence of those we should note, but I would mention that different men would no doubt be considered if that monument were being erected today. Franklin would probably replace his distant relation Theodore, and there would be those who would push for Ronald Reagan or Bill Clinton or maybe even Harry Truman. I am sure each person would have his or her own ideas for a new Mount Rushmore.


There are presidents who are like old generals and just fade away. Whether their presidential timber was questionable or their time in office unremarkable, you don’t hear much about them. Can any of you right off the top of your head talk about the accomplishments of Grover Cleveland, Rutherford B. Hayes, or William Howard Taft? What about Millard Fillmore, Chester Arthur, or Warren G. Harding?


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The 44
Of course, many of us are familiar with recent presidents whom we recognize and remember. I only remember JFK from his assassination, Lyndon Johnson because his wife was named Lady Bird, and then Richard Nixon becomes fully recalled for going to China (I had to keep a journal in school about the trip) and Watergate. My memories of President Ford are mostly that Chevy Chase made fun of him on Saturday Night Live, and then that Jimmy Carter had a wacky family, a TV show vaguely connected to him called Carter Country, and a problem with hostages in Iran.


All of us could go on about presidents we remember (or wish we didn’t). The truth is, good or bad, these men have served their country in the highest office in the land. If we do a little exploration, we could probably find something interesting and noteworthy about each one of the 44 who have served their country. Perhaps just the fact that they became president should be enough to include them in the celebration of the day.


Now there will be those of you who see this as a day to just enjoy a long winter’s nap. Others will rush out to the department store sales, and some are away on a long weekend either skiing or in a warm water location enjoying surf and sand. How many of you will actually be honoring the presidents today or not really matters less than the fact that the day stands as a way to formally acknowledge their service.


As I was working on this article and looking for images, my son (whose in Kindergarten) pointed to the image of Lincoln and said, “I’m learning about him in school.” I showed him a picture of Washington and asked him if he knew who that was, and he said, “No.” Perhaps his teacher was waiting for Washington’s birthday to talk about old George, but that is another story. Obviously she doesn’t have those old posters up in her room, and maybe that’s a good thing.


Whatever you do today the fact is that it is Presidents’ Day. There are four living former presidents: Carter, Bush I, Clinton, and Bush II, and our current Commander in Chief, Barack Obama. It’s their day as much as it is Lincoln’s or Washington’s. However you feel about any of them is up to you, but I lean toward tipping my cap to them and saying, “Thank you.”


 Photo credits: sfsu.com; viral heat.com; donaldswebblog

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Discovering Shovel Talk - Old Fashioned Social Networking

First appeared on Blogcritics.

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Raising the white flag - winter has won but "shovel talk"
provides some comfort to the weary
 
As yet another snowstorm is heading into the New York City area, I have faced the grim reality of this winter 2013-2014. We have not seen a winter like this one in many years, and our prognosticators of doom (our local weather forecasters who are savoring every moment of this unending winter misery for those of you not living in the tri-state area) are telling us that this is the “new normal.” I shiver in me timbers at the thought of this, of NYC becoming similar to Minneapolis or Oslo or even Santa’s Arctic home.


As I finished shoveling after the last storm yesterday, I capitulated. I tied the white flag on the shovel and said, “I surrender to you!” I gave up, I allowed Jack Frost his due, and Mommy Nature her reign over all things I once deemed mine. They had won this battle because I felt all spent, my back and arms and spirit weakened by storm upon storm.


But then I saw my neighbor Matt who joked with me. Matt is that kind of guy, someone who never seems negative. During a nice conversation, he told me that he keeps thinking “spring.” And then I realized something - the unusually heavy snowfalls this year have been actually good for something I had not thought about before: communication.


In the New York City area, we sadly go about our days in a self-inflicted but oblivious fog. We may say "Hello" to a neighbor in passing, but there seems little time to stop and chat. This probably is a symptom of city life that we have allowed to fester and spread, but the advent of technology has had much to do with our insular attitudes and behaviors as well.


Now, get on a bus or subway train or into a car, and everyone whips out their phones or tablets. People are always looking down at their hand-held devices, with an eerie reflection on their faces. So even if you want to shoot the breeze, there are basically no takers. Going out to your car in the morning to go to work or school you can see people checking their phones as they walk. It's a wonder that more people do not trip over things and have serious accidents (although recently there have been a number of stories of people texting and falling onto subway tracks).


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Shoveling the driveway yet again provides another opportunity for conversation. 
The heavy snowfalls and harsh winter weather in New York have changed the playing field because we are suddenly thrown into a situation that requires both of our hands. You cannot shovel with your cell phone in one hand. That is impossible. You can, however, hold a conversation with your neighbor as you both hit the pile of snow and ice that the plows have deposited in your driveways.


The multiple storms this winter have thrust all of us outside again and again. Instead of sitting inside glued to our PC, TV, or tablet screens, we are venturing forth to tackle the hefty detritus of Frost and Nature’s fury. We shovel and talk and in essence are shooting the breeze as our breath clouds fill the air. Call it a misery loves company scenario if you will, but the unbearable heaviness of wielding a snow shovel seems somehow lightened by engaging in banter with someone.


Because of these storms I have discussed things I would never usually have had the opportunity to talk about with my neighbors. One storm right after the Super Bowl provided a forum for talking about halftime act Bruno Mars (we all generally gave him thumbs up) and the game itself (mostly thumbs down). We talked of the tasty snacks we had made for the game, the TV commercials (seems the Radio Shack one with 80s icons was the favorite), and the general feeling that we wished the game were held on Saturdays.


Other snow storms this year have provided similar opportunities for conversations that never would have taken place without them. I realized that shoveling snow had provided us something lost in modern life - we were all engaging in good, old fashioned social networking.


Long ago my grandfather told of the lost art of neighborly interaction. He told of times before air conditioners, when everyone in sweltering apartments hung out windows in hopes of feeling cooler and found time to shoot the breeze while doing so. Stoops (what we call steps in NYC) were not just meant for gaining access to buildings but rather a social meeting place, vibrant venues of sometimes highly animated conversation. Everyone sat outside in those days during hot weather, talking to anyone who passed by. In the back of the apartments, sometimes in a thing called the airshaft, clotheslines crisscrossed over a common area that was covered by a skylight. Here women talked as they clipped the dripping clothing from their wash sinks to the lines, getting to know one another in ways that clothes dryers never allow today.


My grandfather used to describe what he called “an old fashioned winter.” In my lifetime I have only caught glimpses of this - usually one big blizzard to remember to mark an otherwise mild or snow-free winter. But Pop remembered winters like this one, when “snow fell almost everyday,” and when the rivers around the city froze over. He told of walking across the frozen East River to visit his grandmother in Brooklyn, and I used to think that was a “tall tale” but I understand after this winter. I am a believer now.


This has not only been the winter of our discontent but one of great inconvenience; however, there is a bright side to it all. Because of the excesses of snow and ice, we have had an opportunity for conversation, for a discourse of warmth that helps us until we can get the job done and go back inside and warm ourselves by (if not the hearth) the radiator. This old fashioned social networking is a benefit of all this snow, and the forecast for the weeks ahead seems to indicate more “shovel talk” is on the agenda.


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Our usual means of "social" networking 
Months from now when we are walking about in shorts and T-shirts glued to our cell phones, all of this will seem a distant memory. Sadly, we will be back in our insular modes again, waving and saying, “Hi” and moving on with our frenzied lives. I for one will think back and hopefully appreciate the chance this winter afforded me to slow down, to engage with others on a basic and intrinsically more human level.


So, despite all the many inches of snow and the overall inconvenience, I am giving a “thumbs up” to winter this year. If you think about it, damn technology to hell; it does feel good to be able to “like” something that is not found on Facebook.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Common Core Wars - The Empire State Strikes Back

First appeared on Blogcritics.

There has been so much said about the Common Core State Standards that one could assume at this point that everyone knows about them. For those who do not know, these standards were meant to strengthen education across the U.S.A. by ostensibly building on what individual states had in place as standards.

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Standardized tests are linked to the CCSS in New York State. 

Unfortunately, here in New York State the initiation of the CCSS for most parents, teachers, and students was mishandled; thus, what the standards meant to accomplish (according to the CCSS web site) - It should be clear to every student, parent, and teacher what the standards of success are in every school - was never realized. The salient reason for this here in New York was to utilize the CCSS for purposes other than educating our children. The goal was to jump on the standards, implement them quickly, and then use results of standardized test scores based on those standards to achieve the nefarious goals of tying the scores to teacher evaluations and student achievement.


The plan seemed to be something right out of Star Wars villain Darth Vader's playbook. After the “rebel alliance” of teachers, principals, and parents dared to challenge the empire, the media picked up on the situation and started reporting the details of this debacle. How could any state test its children based on standards that they had not been properly taught because the state had not made certain its teachers were properly prepared to teach them?


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Comissioner King speaking to the Board of Regents
As this story became the 800-pound gorilla that the New York State Education Department did not want to see in the room, there were growing calls for the CCSS to be stopped and for State Commissioner of Education John B. King to be removed from office. At several town halls on Long Island, Dr. King was nearly run out of town on a rail by enraged parents who refused to accept his policies about the CCSS. 


Now we get word that State Board of Regents voted to give the schools five years to put the standards “fully into place.” They also indicated that teachers would be given the next two years as a “grace period,” meaning that during this time teachers wouldn’t have poor results on their students’ standardized tests affect the all important teacher evaluations.


This may seem like a sufficient compromise to some, but the reality is that this decision does not face the necessary and compelling reason why parents, teachers, and principals were complaining - the problem still exists as long as the CCSS are not examined more closely. This issue affects all the states that have implemented CCSS, but New York can be the battleground where people take a stand and strike back at what seems to be a classic case of putting the cart before the horse, only to find that said cart is filled with damaged goods.


All along I have said that the intention of the CCSS was a good one - to improve instruction; however, that does not mean that there is not something inherently wrong with the new standards. The truth is that the standards were never truly explained and investigated, with parents, teachers, and principals getting an opportunity for input, for there to be possible revisions, and perhaps some reworking appropriate for individual states. It seems incomprehensible that in 2014 that a one-size fits all education model would be proper for these very diverse United States.


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Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver
Happily, here in New York, things are looking brighter thanks to politicians in Albany (I don’t think I would have ever believed I could have written that sentence). In a rare bipartisan effort, New York State’s Senate and Assembly are making a concerted effort to delay CCSS in New York. Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver has helped lead the way to get this done. He noted, “You can’t propose an entirely new curriculum, an entirely new set of standards and say: ‘Here it is, teach to it.’” Unfortunately, that is exactly what has happened in New York State.


Governor Andrew Cuomo is reticent about immediate action and wants to create a panel to examine the CCSS and their implementation, but legislators noted that the yet to be created panel would not convene until after standardized tests are administered in April 2014. Unfortunately, this sounds like more of the same from Mr. Cuomo (who along with former NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg once lauded the teacher evaluation component as a way to rid themselves of tenured, higher paid teachers) and fails to recognize the valid concerns of his constituents.

For now it seems that the coalition of parents, teachers, principals, and politicians are moving in the right direction. Hopefully, the CCSS will become something that they should have been in the first place - an education initiative that is up for review, examination, and revision. This would be much more acceptable than what has thus far been rammed down everyone’s throats.

Now we must await to see what happens in the legislature, but all signs are that something soon will be placed on Governor Cuomo's desk for his signature, and then it will be up to him to make a decision that is best for our students and teachers. Will he hear the reasoning of the “rebel alliance” or continue to advance the cause of the evil empire? The answer will not only determine the future for all the states’ teachers and students but also perhaps his ability to remain in office.


  Photo credits: Silver-nydaily news; king - AP; a bubble test.com

Sunday, February 9, 2014

50 Years Ago Today – Remembering The Beatles' First Appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show

First appeared on Blogcritics.

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The Beatles during their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show 
Memory is a tricky thing, but there are key, resilient things in my mind that stay stored there. I recall my grandmother screaming, “They shot the president!” up the stairs as my mother gave me a bath. I also remember watching JFK’s funeral a few days after that because of two specific images – his little son saluting on the steps and the horse with no rider. I don’t remember anything else besides those things, but they are vivid in my mind now.


A few months later another visceral moment is etched in my brain – the first appearance of The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. I was only four years old, but I had heard my parents and grandparents talking about this “Beatle thing” as they referred to it over Sunday dinner. As was the tradition, my grandparent’s watched good old Ed every Sunday night, and the conversation got me wanting to watch too. Now, I had seen plenty of old Ed before, mostly being intrigued by the mouse puppet Topo Gigio (just the way Ed said that name is seared into my memory) and Señor Wences the ventriloquist.


I particularly thought this was a children’s show because of that silly mouse, but there were always other great acts and Nana and Pop loved seeing the acrobats, the plate spinners, the dancers, and singers that appeared every week. I thought they all were famous and, coupled with sitting through The Lawrence Welk Show with them as well on Saturday nights, I am not sure what kind of influence this all had on me except to think everyone on these shows seemed to be having fun.


The night we watched The Beatles is like a static film clip in my mind. My little sister had already been put to bed, and I recall wearing my cowboy pajamas (of which I must have had ten different pairs) and a cowboy hat as I sat on the rough carpet in front of the sofa, where my grandparents sat. My parents sat in chairs on opposite sides of the sofa. I recall Sullivan announcing the group, hearing the audience squeal, and then something of them bowing when it was all over. The rest of the time I may not have been looking at the black and white images on the old Zenith as much as dozing off and dreaming of Rawhide and The Virginian (my favorite cowboy shows at the time according to my father).


What I do know is that this had a profound effect on me because after that I started noticing all songs my mother listened to on the radio. Before that I had no clue as to who was singing what, though I had some clue as to who Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra were (two of my parents’ favorite singers). I also knew who Bing Crosby and Perry Como were because my mother had played their Christmas albums only a few months before again and again as she decorated, wrapped presents, and wrote out Christmas cards.


Now I started to discern in a very subtle way that there were vast differences between what I had seen on TV in those Beatles guys and the rest of the stuff I had been digesting. When the Beatles came on the radio even Mom sang along with the songs, but she stopped if Nana came in. I guess she wasn’t sure about them or Nana's perception of them (more likely), but now I was convinced that The Beatles were something I needed to hear again (and again and again).


Depending on how old you were when The Beatles first came to America, there was a period of growth and then one of rejection followed by recognition and deep appreciation (at least that was my path). Much of this had to do with my parents, who were fine with mop-top Beatles but started to question things when they changed (again and again) and "became weird." Looking back on it now, I am sure that they could not have stayed “mop-tops” forever, just as apparently today people like Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Justin Bieber, and company could not retain their former teeny bopper images to please their fans.


Unfortunately, as The Beatles became themselves rather than their former and more palatable (for some) corporate creation, fans were shaken up. I was too young not to follow my parents lead, but then I came to my senses and appreciated that change was a necessary and compelling thing for the group, just as it inevitably would be for me. What happened to The Beatles is nothing short of extraordinary. They went from those first fledling moments on a cold Sunday night in February 1964 to a juggernaut that literally rocked the world.


There is no reason to go into the story here; it is well known, but how it affected everyone is very personal. For me it was an awakening, although very small at the time. I went on to carry a Beatles lunchbox to school. In fact, I had several of them finishing with a Yellow Submarine one that I only wish I had retained. I recall giving it away as a teenager to a friend's little brother along with baseball cards and a James Bond attaché case. Oh, the pain, the pain!


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The Beatles where it all began - The Cavern Club, Liverpool, England 

Yet once I became older and the group had already broken up, The Beatles' influence made me want to write, to travel, to act, and to experience the world. One of my first trips involved going to London with the goal to get to Liverpool. Just as The Beatles had their defining initial career moments in my city, I had some epiphanies in their hometown. I went to all the obligatory sites, drank a pint in The Grapes (their favorite pub), saw a show in The Cavern Club (the exhumed version of the place that launched their careers but had once had been filled in to make a parking lot), and hit Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields if not forever at least for time enough to understand the impact of these places on their lives and music. I sat on the bench with the Eleanor Rigby statue, stood in the doorway with the John Lennon effigy, and noted the plaque that rightly touted "Four Lads Who Shook the World."

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John Lennon statue across from The Cavern Club in Liverpool 
Over the years since I have visited every continent except Antarctica, and all of my journeys were no doubt inspired by the Fab Four (if they could do it, why not I?). I tried to follow their careers after the band dissolved, but must admit I own just one post break up album by Ringo, a few by George (including the amazing All Things Must Pass), many more from Paul and his bands on the run, and even more of John's (culminating in his last Double Fantasy). Sadly, I don’t have anything recent by Paul or Ringo; and that doesn't mean I don’t still like them, but more that the newer songs are farther removed from Beatles and thus infinitely more depressing. I tend to like to imagine them as young, healthy, and together, not as Paul and Ringo - the "surviving" Beatles.


We all spent the years of wanting and hoping The Beatles would come together as it were, and I recall watching Saturday Night Live when the offer was made for them to reunite (even Ringo would get a little share). Little did I know that John and Paul were together in New York City that night watching the show. Many years later I learned that John and Paul debated about heading over to the studio to have a little fun with Lorne Michaels (perhaps on the air of a live show?), but that never came to pass. Imagine, just imagine, if it had.


Of course, 1980 changed the course of every Beatles fan's life. I know the tears I cried when John died, and it was less my mourning the now total impossibility of a reunion (by 1980 most of us mostly knew that it would never happen anyway) than weeping for John's death and loss of my own innocence, my expiring youth that had just had a cruel and sadistic slap to the face. All things seemed possible in 1964, but now just 16 years later John was dead and there was nothing left to say about The Beatles or anything else for that matter (at least that was how I felt at the time). It has taken people a long, long time to get over John's death, and every time December comes around I get emotional again.


I have thought about The Beatles in one way or another every day for some reason since 1980. There are always reminders in New York. We can recall those innocent pictures of them frolicking in Central Park before their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, or many years later the images of John and Yoko strolling peacefully through the same park. We can think of the frenzy around the theater on Broadway or the barricades holding back the frenzied crowds of girls outside The Plaza Hotel. There is Madison Square Garden, where I went to see Elton John and Lennon came out and brought down the house, and I recall seeing John walking down Central Park West and forcing myself to not even look his way, fighting every instinct inside of me to be a freaking out looney fan.



Now, all these years later that February night long ago still remains. I remember the carpet burns on my butt from sitting there on the floor, the rabbit ears on top of the Zenith that had aluminum foil taped around the top, and the smell of Nana's furniture polish on the coffee table next to me. I am still thinking of that night, of the grainy images in my brain, and the vague happiness of songs that seemed if not sung by angels at least by some beings that were not of this planet.

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Beatles on Let It Be album cover. 
50 years ago today the legend began and helped us to see the world in a different, wonderful new way. Thank you, John, Paul, George, and Ringo for everything, especially for teaching me that we all can take a sad song and make it better, that we can imagine a world where all we need is love, and that it is all up to us to give peace a chance.


Despite everything that has happened in these past 50 years, Beatles fans, their music lives forever, and you know for that you should be glad. Yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah!


Photo credits: ny daily news, fanshare.com, knoxnews.com, liverpool.fluxtime.com

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Ralph Kiner Dies - New York City Mourns an Empty Korner

First appeared on Blogcritics.

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Ralph interviews first Met skipper Casey Stengel


There are the great voices of baseball - Vin Scully, Harry Carey, Phil Rizzuto, and Tim McCarver to name a few - who rise above being connected to a specific team and seem to resonate for all baseball fans. Ralph Kiner was indeed one of those voices, and it was not just the fans who loved and appreciated his talents, but the baseball players were the ones who loved him most of all. When I heard that Ralph passed away, I turned yet another page in my life, but remembered fondly all the years that Ralph had been a part of it.



Ralph Kiner played ten years in Major League Baseball (smashing 369 homers and driving in 1,015 runs) and retired at the ripe old age of 32 because of physical problems, including a bad back. If we do the math and think about it (that's an average of 36 homers and 101 RBI a season!), we can only imagine what would have been if Ralph had been able to play five or more years. We’re talking at least 500 or more homers, but Kiner’s legacy had been sealed as the premier slugger of his time (seven National League home run titles in a row) and he earned his spot in Baseball’s Hall of Fame. That might have been enough for some, but Ralph’s second career would prove to be where he became even more famous.



Before serial celebrity dater Derek Jeter, Kiner rivaled Joe DiMaggio in his ability to date Hollywood royalty (Elizabeth Taylor and Janet Leigh). He also knew how to play the public relations game unlike some guys who alienate baseball reporters. Everyone seemed to like Ralph because there was no bad press, and there was none because Ralph was a genuine “nice guy” who endeared himself to fans, fellow players, and just about everyone else.


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Dream Broadcast Team - Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson, and Ralph
Growing up watching NY Mets broadcasts, I joined many other Mets fans being treated to the Three Musketeers of the broadcast booth - Ralph Kiner, Lindsey Nelson, and Bob Murphy. Each one brought a different aspect of insight, intelligence, and talent to the games we watched. Nelson, in his flamboyant sports jackets, seemed to be the straight man, a sort of Zeppo Marx to his two more humorous “brothers” in the booth. Murphy could always be counted on for a flubbed name or less than insightful comment (such as for Dave Kingman - “You can just call him ‘Sky’”- since Kingman always hit sky-high balls for outs), but it was Ralph who added heft of reputation (he was the only one who actually played the game) and displayed wonderful humor as well. 


Many people have noted the “Ralphisms” that we all waited to hear anxiously during each game. Kiner was well known for mixing up sentences to our delight. One of my favorites was in a game when the opposing player had hit a home run and Ralph noted it as soon as it was hit, “A homer - no bout a-dout it!” There were many others including noting what he thought was a homer, “Going, going, gone….” (long silence as the outfielder caught the ball and then not missing a beat) “and into the mitt of centerfielder!” That was classic Ralphism at its best.


But whether he was calling Gary Carter “Gary Cooper” or noting that there would be a commercial for “Manufacturer’s Hangover,” Ralph was universally loved because it all came down to the essence of this - Kiner loved baseball as much and probably more than the fans and the game loved him, and we all knew it and appreciated him even more because of it. Despite all the malaprops and the laughs, Ralph brought genuine insight into each game. He also related so many stories, that to this day I feel like I know everything about all these legendary baseball guys like “Wee” Willie Keeler, Hank Greenberg, and the like whom I never saw play but felt like I did because of Ralph.


They say you can judge a man by the friends he keeps (and also how others speak of him), and there has never been an ill word about Ralph Kiner. Players on other teams couldn’t wait to appear on his after game TV show Kiner’s Korner, and not because they wanted to get on TV ( or the $50 they got for an appearance) but because they wanted to meet Ralph. I have seen big names - legends like Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Steve Carlton, Johnny Bench, and many more - gushing when in Ralph’s presence. They were genuinely awed by a guy who not only played the game but one who had mastered it.


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Ralph upon election to NY Mets Hall of Fame
Former broadcast partner and Met great Rusty Staub put it best about Kiner, “He was a player’s guy.” So many other former players, current players, teammates, and fans have chimed in since they heard of Ralph’s passing. Not one bad word is said because Ralph lived his life appreciative of everything. He enjoyed baseball, his career as an announcer, and never uttered a bad word about others. They say you get back what you give, and this avalanche of accolades from so many people clearly indicates he gave well.



I only saw Kiner once in person, and it is a weird story. I must have been nine or ten and my father had taken me to a game. I wanted a hotdog and soda, and Dad gave me five dollars and sent me to the concession stand to get the same for him too (five bucks went a long way in those days). It was during an inning and Tom Seaver was pitching, and my father wasn’t going to miss a pitch.


I ran up to the counter but was behind a very tall man who had all the workers laughing. It seemed he was holding court for a long time, and as he turned around with his tray filled with two hotdogs and big cup of soda, I saw that it was Ralph Kiner. I was kind of in shock and he looked down at me and said, “Sorry I took so long, son.” I must have stared at Kiner with my mouth open and staggered to follow him a bit, and after that I was in a kind of trance.


Somehow I made it back to my seat and my Dad noticed I still had the money clutched in my hand. “What happened?” he asked. I finally said, “I just saw him.” My father asked who and I honestly couldn’t think of his name so I said, “I don’t know but I saw him.” We talked about that over the years and always had a good laugh over that.


Now Ralph Kiner is gone, and we have lost another great one. Though he made his mark as a player as a Pittsburgh Pirate, he became the quintessential Met broadcaster and ultimately a fan. He represented not only everything great about baseball but also how a player and announcer could conduct himself with dignity, class, and respect for himself and others. Surely, and I know this has been said before but never applied more than to Ralph Kiner, we shall not see the likes of him again.


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Ralph in the broadcast booth at Shea Stadium
There is a sad, empty “Korner” in New York City now, one christened with tears and memories of those who loved Ralph Kiner. As Mike Piazza noted, Ralph was “a true gentleman.” He joins Lindsey Nelson and Bob Murphy in that broadcast booth on the other side now. I guarantee that heaven is a brighter place with Ralph Kiner there - no bout a-dout it!


 Photo credits: ny daily news, AP, ABC news

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Woody Allen - Should We Judge Art by the Artist’s Personal Life?

First appeared on Blogcritics.

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Dylan & Mia Farrow
I want to start by saying that I am a father and have a daughter; I find the accusations against legendary film director Woody Allen by his adopted daughter Dylan Farrow quite disturbing. In Ms. Farrow’s letter published in The New York Times, the young woman goes into gruesome details about the alleged abuse. Most everyone will find the letter’s contents upsetting; however, we must also state that Mr. Allen has long denied the claims of this abuse, and he has never been charged in regards to this situation.


You can read a good deal more about the case’s details and why the prosecutors in Connecticut did not bring charges against Mr. Allen, but there remains the element of doubt, yet we also must recognize that we need to use “alleged” here because nothing has been proven. Which gets us to the matter of art and the artist.


As long as I can remember, there has been a debate about whether we should judge a work of art by the artist who created it. For example, if William Shakespeare had been a convicted murderer, would that detract from his body of work? Should it matter to us at all what happens in an artist’s personal life? Does not the work in and of itself exist and therefore should please or displease us based on its own merits?


This reminds me of the movie star Rock Hudson. My mother loved Rock and was a great fan. She enjoyed all his movies, and when he started appearing on the TV series Dynasty she was thrilled, though she noted he looked “very thin and like he is not well.” We know now that Mr. Hudson had the AIDS virus, which he died from in 1985. When stories were published afterwards, it was claimed that he was gay and the star machine that operated in Hollywood conspired to keep that information from the public. I will never forget that Mom said, “I don’t care what they say; I still love his movies.”


I bring up this case because Mom was not judging Rock by anything he did behind closed doors. All that was important to her was the work Rock did, and that endured for her even after she learned the truth about him. In her mind the “work” mattered much more than the real life the actor lived when not on screen.


In Mr. Allen's case, what has caused all this to surface again since the event of alleged molestation occurred over 20 years ago? The answer is Mr. Allen’s lifetime achievement honor at this year’s Golden Globes, and there is also the matter of Cate Blanchett and Sally Hawkins, two actresses in his latest film Blue Jasmine, being nominated for an Academy Awards in the Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress categories and Mr. Allen for Best Screenplay. Since Mr. Allen is in the news once again, does that make him fair game for renewed accusations, and you may ask why hasn’t this happened sooner?


Mr. Allen has worked steadily since he and Mia Farrow broke up in 1992 due to her discovery of a romantic relationship with her adopted daughter Soon Yi Previn, who was 19 at the time. Shortly after this the accusations about Allen’s abuse of Dylan surfaced. We could question why Ms. Farrow has waited until now or why her mother did not press the issue continuously over the years. Of course, child abuse is such a horrendous matter, and also something a family may choose to keep private in respect to the child. We could imagine that Ms. Farrow (now 27 and married) found the courage to speak out when she saw Mr. Allen receiving accolades, and I respect her right to express herself and her outrage.


Still, I recently saw Blue Jasmine and it is an amazing film, mostly because of the performances by its nominated stars. Blanchett is so transparent, so totally believable in the role of a lifetime. Playing the disgraced wife of a former big Wall Street Bernie Madoff type (Alec Baldwin), Ms. Blanchett allows every emotion to register on screen as she slowly comes to grips with her dismantled former life of wealth and privilege. Moving in with her down and out sister (the equally amazing Hawkins) in San Francisco, she tries to reconstruct her life with less than satisfactory results.


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Allen directing Blanchett & Baldwin
The point is that Mr. Allen has created a fine work of art in Blue Jasmine. I enjoyed every moment of the film, and I marvel at his ability to cull such rich and resonant performances from his female (and male) stars. It is worth noting that when former muse Diane Keaton accepted his award at the Golden Globes, she mentioned how well Woody motivated and inspired the actresses in his films. Looking back on his movies we can remember many memorable female performances and know the truth of that statement (including Mia Farrow in Hannah and Her Sisters), but it could also have been the motivation for Dylan Farrow to speak out - to let the world know what they are seeing on screen has nothing to do with what happened to her so long ago.


So we do get back to the art and the artist. Roman Polanski, Ezra Pound, and Ernest Hemingway all come to mind here. Of course, there are many other artists and writers we could discuss, but think about these three men and their body of work. Do Mr. Polanski’s films not stand out as some of the finest made? Does not Pound’s poetry resound even now, so long after his death? And does not Hemingway‘s work as arguably the finest short story writer ever stand far above the disaster of the personal life he lived?


Polanski was accused of statutory rape, Pound of being a Nazi sympathizer, and Hemingway of being a misogynist and bully, but I have always tried to read or view a work of art in a vacuum. I suppose as human beings we are inevitably drawn into the nature of the person who created the thing we respect and admire. We look for hidden clues, meanings within meanings, to get at the person who crafted such fine work. We don’t just want to see the portrait; we want to see the hand of the person who held the paintbrush, warts and all.


We as modern Internet people are so addicted and affected by ready access to information. We want to know everything, sort of a 24-7 TMZ mentality, and it seems to be a social desire to take a fiction and make it reality TV. With so many TV series about celebrity lives, it is not all our fault. Imagine if Hemingway lived today - his reality TV series with four wives, three sons, assorted mistresses, carousing friends, and angry associates could make for something more juicy and infinitely more entertaining than Keeping Up with the Kardashians. I could just picture a grizzled Hemingway staring at the camera and telling the tale of his submarine and skirt chasing, those days in Paris with Fitzgerald, and how he ran with the bulls in Spain. I have to say that’s a show I would watch, but how would such a series affect the way we think about the work Hemingway created and left behind for generations to come?


Despite all the things that happen to writers, actors, directors, and other artists, we always have to come back to the work. Woody Allen didn’t become famous because he was just any guy from Brooklyn and had some stories to tell; his fame is based on his body of work. He had to create something larger than life, something that would be more than some conversation he once had in Brighton Beach. Allen was able to successfully and memorably translate real life experiences into reel life ones. To do this he had to have talent, pluck, and luck. Let’s not forget the talent part, and he also had to find people to believe in him and his vision. The rest, as they often say, is history - in this case cinematic history.


Woody Allen’s cinematic body of work is simply amazing. While there are some clunkers to be sure, what artist or writer doesn’t have those? Overall, Allen has left behind an impressive film legacy as a director that is right up there with Scorcese, Coppolla, Chaplin, Ford, and DeMille. Maybe there are people who do not like that, but they cannot erase all his films, just as they cannot delete all of Alex Rodriguez’s homers. We may not like the alleged way A-Rod came to hit all those dingers, but we cannot deny that they happened.

I want to share a story of a good friend who had extensive masonary work done on his patio, back porch, and pathway into the backyard. When I came to see it, I was astounded by the intricacies of the stonework, the beautiful design in the pathway, and the mosaics spreading out in designs across the porch. When I inquired about getting the mason to do work on my house, my friend sadly related that the man was arrested and charged with all sorts of crimes. He put his hands on his hips, stared at the yard, and said, “It’s such a shame, he did such good work.”


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Allen with young Dylan
I never forgot that story and never will. My friend still has those things in his yard and uses them daily while the man who crafted them languishes in jail. When I recently asked about how the mason is doing, my friend said, “I don’t know; I never think about it.” Of course, my friend was not a little girl whose life was changed forever by a man she thought she could trust. Maybe she never thought about Allen all those years either, and when she saw the Golden Globes she started thinking again and we end up getting that letter.


I know the situations are different, but in the end the mason’s stonework and Allen’s movies are enduring works of art. It is up to each person to decide whether to appreciate them or not. 


 Photo credits: Allen and Dylan Farrow-Wire Images; Daily News