Month: April 2012

My bag is sinkin’ low and I do believe it’s time

Ever since I read, a couple of days ago, that Levon Helm of the band The Band was near death, I got in a very reflective mood, fueled in part by others’ reaction to the news. One of my colleagues, who has seen him perform in recent years, was already in mourning. Another, who had seen The Band perform in their heyday, was walking around the office singing “The Weight;” “I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin’ about half past dead; I just need someplace where I can lay my head.” I’ve known this person for nearly two decades, but this was a side of him I had never seen.

He noted that he played his copy of The Band’s eponymous second album, the brown-covered one, so often that his college roommates needed to switch rooms to get away from that music. He had to buy the LP a couple of times because he wore the first copy out.

I have a similar love for that album. I remember that my friend Karen turned me onto it in high school. In fact, she was the editor of the high school yearbook, and she replaced one of the pictures of the school band with a photo of The Band. Those first four albums, including Stage Fright and Cahoots, I played a LOT in college. In fact, the house where Music from Big Pink, the first Band album, was recorded was not that far from my girlfriend’s (the Okie) parents’ home.

Conversely, a couple of our young interns didn’t even know who The Band was, and I felt obliged, nay, compelled, to share this bit of Americana with them, playing some songs on YouTube, such as The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down and Rag, Mama, Rag. I told them that MARTIN SCORSESE filmed their farewell tour as “The Last Waltz.” I noted that they used to back Bob Dylan – they DID know who Dylan was. Elton John named his song Levon after The Band’s drummer, Levon Helm.

Levon, moreover, was the voice behind so many of those Band songs. I remember seeing this clip on CBS Sunday Morning back in 2007 when he was recovering from throat cancer and put out some albums, the first two of which I own, Dirt Farmer and Electric Dirt.

I only regret that I never had a chance to go to one of his Midnight Rambles, a series of fundraisers to help defray the massive cost of his medical procedures. See the unbridled joy expressed only last month as the legendary Band drummer recounts stories from his long career and rambles through two classics.

The Weight – The Band from Woodstock
Up On Cripple Creek – The Band from The Last Waltz
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down – The Band from The Last Waltz
Poor Old Dirt Farmer – Levon Helm
And in the “apple doesn’t fall from the tree” division:
I Am Waiting – Ollabelle, featuring Amy Helm, Levon’s daughter, on this Rolling Stones cover

Levon Helm, Drummer, and Singer of the Band, Dead at 71
Whip to Grave: Levon Helm, the Real Voice of America
The Band cover story on Coverville

The ubiquitous Dick Clark

“And then Dick Clark approached them, said ‘I know a thing or two. I’ll put you on a TV show and make big stars of you.'”

Dick Clark was everywhere, or so it seemed. I remember him from American Bandstand, which I watched almost every week for well over a decade in the 1950s and 1960s, and occasionally after that. That show had a feature called Rate-A-Record, from which the catchphrase “It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it” was made famous. This version of Bandstand Boogie by Les Elgart, which became the American Bandstand Theme, has several shots of Clark. Here is The Time performing The Walk on AB from 1983.

I was an avid viewer of Where The Action Is from the late 1960s, a show which, I distinctly remember, introduced the videos for the Beatles’ Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever. That show featured the group Paul Revere and the Raiders, who namechecked Clark in the song Legend Of Paul Revere: “And then Dick Clark approached them, said ‘I know a thing or two. I’ll put you on a TV show and make big stars of you.'”

Undoubtedly watched him most as the host of the game show Pyramid (initially the $10,000 Pyramid), a show I tried out for and failed to get on in 1977.

When I bought a Time-Life CD collection covering the rock and roll hits of 1955-1961, guess who was listed as the compiler?

But check out his IMDB listings as producer and host of a variety of award shows, and other specials. I did see him, early on, doing the New Year’s Eve show, though not since his first appearance after his stroke a few years back.

The New York Times story.

Here’s his appearance on the TV show This Is Your Life from 1959, where he appears with his first wife Barbara, and his eldest son.

Mark Evanier’s take.

An unflattering portrayal of Clark in the book White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s By Joe Boyd; some of the allegations seem to be contracted by others.

Inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1993.

From ABC News: Dick Clark, Entertainment Icon Nicknamed ‘America’s Oldest Teenager,’ Dies at 82

PLUS:
Lester Bangs on Dick Clark, from nearly 40 years ago.
Reminder: Dick Clark, not Dick Cheney, died Wednesday

Gotcha journalism

What occurred to me is that the notion of “gotcha journalism” has been turned on its head.

The first big story I noticed when I was out of town last week was the death of CBS News’ 60 Minutes correspondent Mike Wallace at the age of 93. He was one of those old-fashioned hard-nosed reporters who irked politicians, the powerful, and occasionally his own network with his investigative television journalism from the show’s debut in 1968 until his retirement in 2006, and even to his 2008 piece on Roger Clemens. Here is the New York Times obit, and his story in The National Memo. His interviews with Ayatollah Khomeini, Dr. Jack Kevorkian, and cigarette company insider Jeffrey Wigand, among many others, were legendary.

One of the trademarks in 60 Minutes reporting, used by him, but not exclusively, was the use of the hidden camera to ambush some person changing the odometer on an automobile or making some unsubstantiated medical claim. One of my favorites and I don’t recall the reporter, involved a black couple in Illinois going to see if a property was available for purchase, and told it was not. Then, a shot later, a white couple would show up, and the property would suddenly be available again. Next, the reporter would come in and expose the duplicity. While effective, CBS tended to shy away from the technique, dubbed as “gotcha journalism.” It was my contention that the hidden camera reporting should only be used when no other way would expose the fraud.

What occurred to me is that the notion of “gotcha journalism” has been turned on its head. When Sarah Palin complained that the “lamestream media” was using “gotcha” questions, it wasn’t a hidden camera trying to entrap her over some wrongdoing. It was an open and aboveboard question over what newspapers she read or why she would be competent to be President if John McCain had been elected, and then later was incapacitated.
***
The next story I read about was the Miami Marlins manager Ozzie Guillen getting in trouble for something he said; not that unusual. But I didn’t really catch what the content was until he apologized for saying it and was suspended five games. What the heck did he remark? The Venezuelan told Time magazine he loves former Cuban leader Fidel Castro and respects the retired Cuban leader for staying in power so long. But he claims his intent was lost in translation: “I was saying I cannot believe somebody who hurt so many people over the years is still alive,” Guillen told folks at the follow-up news conference. My inclination is to believe him, and the calls in the Little Havana community to fire him I find a bit troubling. This may be more of a public relations problem than a substantive issue.

N is for Newport mansions

I doubled back in the Marble House mansion to catch up on items I had passed by quickly while watching The Daughter, which evidently perplexed the staff, as I overheard on their walkie-talkies.

Last week, my wife, one of her brothers, and their respective families were in Newport, Rhode Island, during the school break. Among our activities: visiting the mansions that were built primarily between the end of the US Civil War in 1865 and the beginning of the first World War in 1914. This was dubbed “The Gilded Age” by Mark Twain in 1873, and this was NOT meant as a compliment. By this, he was saying that the period was glittering on the surface but corrupt underneath. But those so dubbed took the term as positive, noting the rapid economic and population growth.

While each of the four mansions warrants its own narrative, there were some characteristics in common. Each was built with money from captains of industry, and most were considered summer homes or even cottages. They were inspired largely by the palaces of Europe and often used Greek gods in the motif.

The families living there had many servants, who were supposed to be all but invisible, as they prepared lavish meals, most of which had several courses which went all but uneaten after a couple of bites. The servants also helped the families change three, four, and in the case of the females, up to seven times a day; wearing a morning dress in the afternoon simply would NOT do!

The end of the Gilded Age, it is generally agreed, came about as a result of the passage of the Sixteenth Amendment to the US Constitution, enacted in 1913, allowing for federal income tax. Suddenly, the unfettered wealth was fettered. These buildings, along with other houses, are maintained by The Preservation Society of Newport County. The four we visited each had an audio component for self-guided tours; it was the same machine in every location, so one could, accidentally or otherwise, catch the details of another building.

The Breakers (pictured above) was built as the Newport summer home of Cornelius Vanderbilt II and is the largest of the properties. It has, among other things, a massive bathtub carved from a single piece of marble.

Rosecliff was built in 1898-1902 by Theresa Fair Oelrichs, a silver heiress from Nevada, whose father James Graham Fair was one of the four partners in the Comstock Lode.

Marble House (right), built between 1888 and 1892 for Mr. and Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, was a summer house, or “cottage”! “Mr. Vanderbilt was the grandson of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt, who established the family’s fortune in steamships and the New York Central Railroad. His older brother was Cornelius II, who built The Breakers. Alva Vanderbilt was a leading hostess in Newport society, and envisioned Marble House as her ‘temple to the arts’ in America…The Vanderbilts divorced in 1895 and Alva married Oliver H.P. Belmont, moving down the street to Belcourt. After his death, she reopened Marble House, and had a Chinese Tea House built on the seaside cliffs, where she hosted rallies for women’s right to vote.” There were even dishes that stated messages supporting suffrage. I doubled back in this building to catch up on items I had passed by quickly while watching The Daughter, which evidently perplexed the staff, as I overheard on their walkie-talkies.

The Elms was designed for the coal baron Edward Julius Berwind and was completed in 1901. Berwind coal-fueled, among other things, Vanderbilt railroads. This circuit was somewhat marred by a hoard of bored high school students who poured in shortly after we had started our tour.

These locations are available for weddings and other private parties; I did NOT inquire as to the pricing.

ABC Wednesday- Round 10

The image of The Breakers was taken by Matt H. Wade (User:UpstateNYer) on 10 August 2009, and used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license. The photograph of the Marble House dining room is from the Carol M. Highsmith Archive at the Library of Congress; Highsmith has released her photographs in the collection into the public domain.

Making peace with Facebook

I realize that if other people are using Facebook, then I need to as well.

I didn’t “get” Facebook for a long time. I joined Facebook on May 7, 2007 – it’s on the timeline it’s forcing on everyone eventually, not that I’d committed the date to memory. In fact, I had forgotten I had an account (or forgot the password) and started ANOTHER profile, allegedly verboten in Zuckerland, and only recently deleted it.

Moreover, if I were required to give my Facebook password to my employer, as certain people think is OK, I’d delete the other one too, even though there is little on my page that isn’t already public.

I don’t become bent out of shape if someone unfriends me; I barely notice if someone unfollows me on Twitter, either. I’m slackjawed over how much some people obsess over it.

But Facebook is useful. Some blogs I visit make it easier to comment via Facebook. Also, I was away this past week. Did you miss me? Probably not. I blogged every day and had the posts appear on Facebook and Twitter automatically.

Moreover, I realize that if other people are using it, then I need to as well. Three examples from a 24-hour period late last month:
One niece: “Had a tooth infection last week, had to have micro-surgery on my gums… Getting the stitches taken out today!”
Another niece: “Why was someone ringing our doorbell at three in the morning and now there are 5 cop cars in the yard.” There was no follow-up, and I had to call her mother in the morning to make sure everyone was OK.
A co-worker: “I am having an allergic reaction to makeup I have worn dozens of times and my face looks like a tomato and feels like a burn. If you happen to see me, please don’t mention it. Thanks. :)” I DIDN’T, but I might have.

So, I guess, while I’m disappointed that a number of bloggers have quit writing on their blogs and have substituted Facebook, an inadequate tradeoff to my mind, I’ll follow along. It’s the only way I know how to reach quite a few people.

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