Thursday, August 27, 2009

Perry's Nut House


A local news story this evening brought me back in time; a time of youth and innocence.

Well, maybe not a time of innocence...

It was in the summer of 1970 that I discovered one of the most unique establishments on the coast of Maine. According to their website, “Perry's Nut House has been referred to as a Maine Institution since 1927 when I.L. Perry first opened his doors to sell pecans and other assorted nuts.”

I was part of a motley crew of campers and counselors from a small boys’ camp in Friendship, Maine off for a day trip to Fort Knox where we had searched – in vain – for hidden treasures. Although I, and presumably the rest of my crew, knew full well that the massive edifice built at the mouth of the Penobscot River to protect the City of Bangor from British attack after the War of 1812 was not the place with all the gold, my fellow staff and I attempted to confuse the young lads by insisting that we search every inch of the fort including a trip down into the bowels of the site in search of the precious mineral.

In those days I was learning the art form of how to keep little boys busy, content and tired. Busy boys stay out of trouble and content boys would not write unflattering letters to parents. The "tired" part paid off for the staff when we could call lights out at 9:00 pm and have a few hours of rest and recovery from the “little darlings” before crashing ourselves.

There was only so much Fort Knox to go around that day and by 2:30 we had pretty much seen everything there was to see. The boat back to camp would not be ready until five o’clock so several hours still had to be occupied.

Leading the excursion was Old Man John, the feisty and coarse former camp director who recently had turned over the reigns of the camp to his 28 year old son and taken the role as chief sage and bus driver. But the Old Man still had quite few tricks up his sleeve for killing time; he could write a book. Wherever I traveled with that man in the years that followed he never ceased to amaze me by finding the most unique and “off the beaten track” places that would make any all American boy drool.

That year we were introduced to Perry’s Nut House. Located along busy US Route 1 just north of the port city of Belfast, Perry’s complex of brightly painted yellow building surrounded by a menagerie of strange and exotic “curiosities” can’t be missed. Seemingly from a time long ago, the Perry’s of 1970 sported a larger-than-life bear, elephant, and wooden Indian. And that was just on the outside of the building. Once inside, Perry’s was the kind a place every kid would love and contained the kind of stuff every camp counselor dreaded. That was probably why Old Man John made a lengthy speech warning campers and staff that no one was to buy any contraband. Before we exited the camp bus, the Old Man pulled me aside and told me to keep my eyes on a few of the seniors who would no doubt defy the warning and try to fill their pockets with itchy powder, rubber turds and black soap.

I watched the more recalcitrant members of the brood with extra-sharp, hawk-eyes but Perry’s was a very distracting venue. Apart from the racks and racks of every Maine-related souvenir one could imagine, stacks of candy and goodies that would make a dentist smile, Perry’s was filled with a collection of odd and amazing collectibles including a 10 foot long snake skin, stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes, including alligators and giraffes, a large, menacing gorilla, and yes, even a “man-eating clam!”. Add to this an unlimited supply of comic books and games, fun house stuff like mirrors that made you look two feet tall and quickly all time was lost.

An hour later, and many dollars lighter, the camp boys and staff were back on the bus heading down US 1 satiated and content. Filled with candy and ice cream, more than a few youngsters didn’t finish their supper that night.

And despite the staff’s best efforts, the next morning we all recoiled in disgust when a realistic-looking puddle of rubber vomit was discovered on one of the dining room tables.

The camp director never did find out who put it there, but it would be a couple of years before we would visit Perry’s Nut House again.

See the news story about Perry's Nut House

Perry's Nut House website

~j

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Old TV Shows


A friend circulated an e-mail chain letter asking people to add their name and the name of their favorite TV show from their youth. Kinda of an interesting list actually. While I was doing the laundry today I decided to use IMDB to find out info about the ones on the list. I know, this definitely qualifies as something done by "somebody who has too much time on his hands."

What can I say... other than I am not responsible for spelling...

OWEN--.The Rifleman

Martha--Dinah Shore Show

Billy--.Six Million Dollar Man

Kay--Friday night fights!! (Sorry not a TV series per se, no record found)

Dutch--Dynasty

Carol--Streets of San Francisco

Cheryl--St. Elsewhere

Lisa--Here Comes the Brides

Sheila--China Beach

Twyla--I Remember Mama Note: there was a movie of this same name - 1949 TV show was called "Mama"

Ruth--.The Red Skelton Show

Chriss-- Lassie - aka - "Timmy and Lassie," "Jeff's Collie"

Kitty--Gunsmoke

Barb--That Girl

Barb--The Walton's

Beth--Burns and Allen aka - "The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show"

Lynda-- What's My Line Note: multiple versions - first 1950

Marg--The Lone Ranger

Lynn -- The Ed Sullivan Show aka "The Toast of the Town"

Betty -- You Are There (1953)

Deborah -- Marcus Welby,M.D.

Becky -- WKRP in Cincinnati

Beth -- The Flying Nun

Kristy -- Welcome Back Kotter

Thaise -- The Facts of Life

Tam -- HR Pufnstuf Note: Not to be confused with H.R. Pufnstuff which is a new movie

Jill -- Emergency aka "Emergency One"

Valerie-- Wonder Woman

Debbie-- Knots Landing

Lynn --Soap

Bonnie -- 30 Something aka "Thirtysomething"

Toney -- Surf Side Six

Carolyn -- Name that Tune Note multiple versions - first 1953

Gena -- Dallas

Doris -- Falcon Crest

Michelle -- Romper Room aka "Romper Room and Friends" - Mulitple versions, first 1953

Kathy -- Ray Rayner Note: wow, rare, could you mean "Ray Rayner and His Friends?"

Candy -- Benji FAIL: not a TV show

Dana -- Laugh In aka "Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In"

Ann -- I Dream of Jeanie - This was a movie, the TV show was "I Dream of Jeannie"

Lisa -- Sanford and Son

Jill --Brisco County Jr. - Wow, Jill, you must be a kid still! This show from 1993

Lois -- Bewitched

Gayle -- M.A.S.H.

Juanita -- Flipper Note: multiple versions and movies

Donna -- Rin Tin Tin aka "The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin"

Janet D -- Fury Note: mulitple movies of the same name

Chris -- Howdy Doody Note: also a predecesor - "Puppet Playhouse" plus multiple sequels: It's Howdy Doody Time (1987) (TV); The New Howdy Doody Show" (1976) (TV series); Howdy Doody and His Magic Hat (1954)


Carl -- Bat Masterson

Gloria -- The Addams Family Note: multiple versions and movies of the same name - first 1964

Rich -- Hill Street Blues

Fannie -- Cagney and Lacey Note: multiple sequels

Katie -- The Jeffersons

Cathy R -- The Andy Griffith Show Note: multiple sequels plus reunions

Kim F -- The Monsters ( did you mean The Munsters?) - a British TV show from 1962

Yvonne -- The Carol Burnette Show Note: multiple versions - first 1967

Michele -- The Lawrence Welk Show (wanerful, wanerful!)

Sharon -- The Rookies

Angela -- The Courtship of Eddie's Father Note: Based on a movie and also sequels

Julie P -- MOD Squad Note: sequel and movies - first 1964

Michelle C -- Get Christy Love (I never heard of this before)

Gaynell D -- Leave It To Beaver

Norman -- Amos & Andy

Sherry -- Little House on the Prairie

Barbara -- Wagon Train

Madeline -- Perry Mason

Patsy -- The Golden Girls

Gina -- The Brady Bunch

Fay -- Nash Bridges - another babe!

Alice -- .Charlie's Angels

Donna -- The Wonderful World of Disney aka "Disneyland"

Bonnie -- The Sonny and Cher Show . (Note: I didn't know Steve Martin was the writer, did you?)

Victor -- Maude

Valerie -- 77 Sunset Strip Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb!

Phyllis -- American Bandstand aka "Bandstand"

Stephanie -- Fantasy Island De Plane, de plane!

Beth -- The Midnight Special (Another one I had never heard of)

Jude -- Queen For A Day Many sequels - first 1951

Sylvia -- Zorro Many sequels, many movies, - first TV 1957

Denise -- Miami Vice

Richard -- The Cisco Kid several sequels - first 1950

John -- The Man from UNCLE

TY -- The Untouchables several sequels and movies - first 1959

Henry -- Star Trek several sequels and movies - first 1966

Vera -- Mickey Mouse Club several sequels - first 1955

Linda -- The Monkeys - presume you mean "The Monkees"

Dawn -- Family Affair - one sequel and multiple movies of the same name - first TV 1966

Kip -- Car 54 Where Are You?

George -- Maverick

Michael -- Sugarfoot

Thomas L -- Captain Video - there were two "Captain Video and His Video Rangers" (1949) and "Captain Video and His Cartoon Rangers" (1956)

MaryAnn -- Ozzie and Harriet aka "The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet" (1952)

Sue -- 90210 again there were at least two series "Beverly Hills, 90210" (1990) and "90210" (2008), in any case you are also a babe.

Mary -- Father Knows Best

Jill -- Gidget

Rhonda -- McCloud

Tammy -- Twilight Zone

Judy -- ZOOM - first 1972, many sequels

LAMOINE -- HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN

Leigh -- Ultra Man could you mean Ultraman (Japanese) 1972?

Sandi -- My Three Sons

Jason -- All in the Family

Randi -- Dark Shadows

Tanya -- Dawson's Creek

Ahlai -- Good Times

Theresa -- Mr. ED first 1961

Dana -- The Partridge Family

Millie -- Password first 1961

Zenna -- Mary Tyler Moore

Bob -- Superman aka "Adventures of Superman" (1952)

Floyd -- Kukla Fran and Ollie

Sherry -- Laverne and Shirley

Janet -- Studio One aka "Westinghouse Studio One"

Wendy-- I love Lucy

Lee-- Flash Gorden many sequels and movies

Delores-- Night Gallery

Tonja-- PettiCoat Junction

Shari -- The Dean Martin Show

Marjory-- MAGNUM PI

Jackie -- The Cosby’s - do you mean "The Cosby Show" (1984)?

Stef ---.Full House

Julia -- Boy Meets World

Kate -- Pee Wee Herman aka Pee-wee's Big Adventure (1985)

Brittni -- Fraggle Rock!

Kara -- 7th Heaven

Katherine -- Saved by the Bell

Brianne -- Pound Puppies

Emily -- Sesame Street (Dah!)

JOSH-- the fall guy

Clark -- Combat

Wayne -- Adam 12

Elouise -- Gilligan’s Island

ELLEN-- PUNKY BREWSTER!!!!

RUBY-- HAPPY DAYS!

Ted -- Lost in Space

Diana P -- Green Acres

Sherri J -- Beverly Hillbillies

Gail -- Fury!

Betty Lu -- McMillan & Wife (Rock Hudson)

Sharron -- Mannix

Lori -- Quantum Leap

Mary-- Sky King (my favorite: "From out of the clear blue of the western sky comes Sky King" )

Barbara -- Dick Van Dyke Show

Val -- Silver Spoons

Fran -- Three’s Company

Sann-- Land of the Lost Note: mulitple sequels - first 1974

Cordero -- Mork & Mindy - "naanu naanu!"

Renetta -- What's Happening..

Corrine -- Hawaii 50 - - - Aloha (actually Hawaii Five-O)

Janelle -- The LOVE boat!

Mary -- Get Smart

Matilda -- Hart to Hart

Leslie -- Webster

Regina -- Mr. Belvedere

Prexie --The Lorretta Young Show aka "The New Loretta Young Show" (1962) (Note there was an earlier show (1953) called "Letter to Loretta"

Hilda -- The Dating Game multiple sequels - first 1965

Susan S -- My Little Margie

John (Me)-- Fireball XL-5 (only cause the good ones were all taken

My Life is Unappealing

screen capture from My Life e-mail
I have received the same e-mail about two dozen times over the past two years. It is always the same message. Can anyone guess why I have not responded positively to the request to join My Life...apart from the fact that you have to pay for it and Facebook is free?

~j

Follow me on Twitter

Thursday, July 23, 2009

What is Twitter?


It seems every time I go to a social gathering these days someone makes a point of asking me to explain Twitter. Granted, I am of that certain age when nearly all of my family and colleagues are, well, more mature. Most seem amazed that I use Twitter and even more amazed when I tell them I can explain it.

So this is what I tell them...

Remember when you were in junior high school or freshman/sophomore year in high school? Remember the school cafeteria at lunchtime? This is Twitter.

Then I explain: So you are sitting at a long table with you immediate friends. Maybe your best friend is sitting opposite you, and around you are your general circle of friends. And at the end of the table are other classmates, but kids you don't socialize with all that much, except maybe in class, or the locker room or here in the caf.

Now at the tables around you are other classmates, kids in your same grade, but with whom you rarely socialize. And as you span out in increasingly larger circles from your table you eventually cover all of the kids in your school, well maybe a big chunk of them, sitting in the cafeteria.

Now, if your school was like my school, there are teachers in the room and there will be the occasional announcement over the very scratchy PA system. Most of these announcements are of no interest to you, but occasionally everyone shuts up and listens.

Got the picture? The scene is rather animated and there is a LOT of talking going on. So much so that it is almost impossible to hear your best friend right in front of you; so everyone talks a little louder. To an outside observer, it is utter din, nonsense. But to those engaged in conversation, it is intense, sometimes personal, and very addictive.

Because you are 12, 13, 14 or 15 years old, you still have great hearing and even better powers of concentration. You follow the conversation with your best friend, but you also monitor the conversations of the kids around you; sometimes engaging in several conversations at once. Every once and a while, there will be an outburst from someone at the end of the table, or the neighboring table and you'll shout down, "Wad-i-dy say? Wad-i-she say?" And the comment is repeated and this is followed by uproarious laughter all along table. Occasionally that will result in kids from other tables, further away from the source leaning in to find out what was said.

This is Twitter. The conversations are ofter between or among a pair or a small circle of friends, but occasionally the conversation is expanded to the surrounding tables.

And then you have a day like we had when Michael Jackson died, or better yet, the day that jetliner landed in the Hudson River. I say that because I was on Twitter that afternoon and remember seeing the innocent tweet, "...a jet has just landed in the Hudson River."

Sometimes these events comes through one of the many news feeds that are broadcast on Twitter similar to the teacher announcement on the PA. But most times these conversations start as something one person says to another and then gets repeated and repeated (retweeted) until literally everyone in the cafeteria is talking about it. They may talk about it for minutes or hours, or even days.

So, what is the content of these conversations on Twitter? Just the same as you would hear in any group of people: he-said-she-said, the latest gossip, what did you watch on TV, what movies did you/do you want to see, the latest ball scores...and on and on. Occasionally, there are serious conversations, "what ya get on your social studies test?" "You going to the dance?" And often times they are rhetorical and frivolous, "Harry Potter rocks!" "55 ways to make a million dollars..."

This is Twitter.

Just like in the cafeteria there are the people who say very little and closely monitor what others are saying. Then there are the motor-mouths who never shut up; the kids who have clever and witty things to say, and those you repeat the same story or joke over and over again and again.

And you find yourself listening more to some, and less to others. And some folks are so obnoxious, you just stop listening to altogether.

This is Twitter.

About then my audience says, why the hell would anyone want to participate in that?

Good question....

The answer? You'll have to try Twitter to find out.

And be sure to follow me!

~jeb

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Meeting Walter Cronkite


As we mourn the loss of the venerable newscaster, Walter Cronkite, ironically just days before the 40th anniversary of one of his most famous broadcasts, the web has been full of remembrances and tributes. Mine is far from unique or noteworthy, but I thought I would share it just the same.

For the last four years I lived in New York City, I had a part time job driving a taxicab. It was the real thing; a licensed medallion cab driven through the five boroughs. And, I lived to tell about it. Well, it wasn’t all that scary, but it was a heady time in the NYC cab industry, just before the fleets disappeared and at a time you could still make a living wage ferrying around New York’s elite.

At that time, many college students drove cabs in NY. We mostly worked on weekends when the regular drivers took some time off. And in the last few years on that job I was making more per hour than I would make in my real first job working for a mental health agency in northern Maine. Go figure.

It was a bright Sunday afternoon in early fall with the sun just setting. I was cruising in the upper East Side looking for a fare to take me out to the airport (the NYC airports could be gold mines on Sundays) or a long fare back downtown. I was on York Ave heading south and I think it was around 84th St when I spotted a young man on the corner. Instincts kicked in and I almost willed the kid to raise his hand to flag me down. As we made eye-contact he signaled me to make the turn east on to 84th. This was a good sign because it meant we were going to pick up someone on the block and they might have luggage, and they might be going to Kennedy, and…anyway, you get the point.

The handsome young man, maybe in his early 20s, jumped in and directed me to the middle of the block of handsome townhouses and brownstones. He explained that I would be picking up their housekeeper and taking her home to her apartment on 96th and East End.

My enthusiasm faded instantaneously as I recognized that this was not a long haul. This was a short hop and one that would take me further way from my desired goal. I groaned to myself and was contemplating my next move when I saw him. He was instantly recognizable and I was immediately drawn to his bright eyes and silver hair attenuated by the piercing late afternoon sun gracing him like a long follow-spot. I want to say he had blue eyes, but I can’t be sure, the golden light washed out any actual color. But the silver hair and the trademark mustache were unmistakable…this was Walter Cronkite.

As directed by the young man in the back, I pulled the cab as far to the left side of the one-way 84th as I could right in front of the man who I had been watching on TV since I was in diapers. The most trusted man in television. The man who had interviewed presidents and kings, who was there on the night men walked on the moon and who told us over and over again on countless replays “…President Kennedy died at 1:00 pm Central Standard Time, 2:00 o’clock Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago…”

This was a lighter moment. Walter reached for the cab’s door handle just as the young man opened the door from the inside. There were others in the small entourage that surrounded a small Asian woman, obviously my fare, who was being escorted into my cab. But I didn’t really see any of them; Walter held my fascination and my attention his eyes squinting in the sun.

The meeting was but an instant. The only words exchanged were between Walter and the woman now in my cab. He closed the door and through the opened window thanked her in that trademark mid-western speech style. She thanked him back and I knew that my brief moment with stardom was over. I pulled the cab back into traffic and picked up my trip sheet, instinctively entering the address, time and destination. The Asian lady in the back explained that that was “Mr. Walter Cronkite” and that she was his housekeeper. And yes, she said this with a thick Asian accent that include a mispronunciation of his last name. “That was, Mr. Chip…” she added. “He’s very nice, he’s Mr. Cronkite’s son, he’s very nice.”

The trip was indeed a short one, nary ten blocks, but during the fare she explained that Mr. Cronkite had been away on vacation and had just returned. She had been staying at this house for the duration, watching over things. It seemed she had been in his household staff for some time and that she really enjoyed her job.

I made an asterisk on my trip sheet with the abbreviation "WC" so I would be able to find the address again if need be. And after dropping off the lady on 96th St, I turned my cab back south into obscurity.

“And that’s the way it was….”

~j

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Farewell to Shifty

Shifty Powers
I think every boy growing up in the US in the 50's and 60's was a big fan of World War II. For most of us, our fathers and uncles fought in that war and it was always described as a noble event, the so-called "moral war."

Of course all that changed in the late 60's when the Vietnam war took away our taste for killing and dying. But for those years of my boyhood I loved to "play war," shooting invisible Nazis and Japs, falling and rolling on the ground and then getting back up to do it all again. If you saw the movie Born on the 4th of July, you'll understand.

As I have gotten older, and patriotism has come back in vogue, I admit that I am still a bit of a WWII nut. I have my own private collection of WWII movies and even gave a donation to the WWII Memorial in Washington a few years back. I think the whole experience made me feel closer to my father who died before the memorial was built. He would have loved it.

So when the movie Saving Private Ryan (SPR) was made I jumped at the opportunity to purchase it immediately when it came out on DVD. I've watched this movie over a dozen times and still find there are parts I can't look at or cringe when I view them. It gives me a visceral reaction.

Perhaps because the movie was a big hit and because interest in WWII was clearly increasing at that time, Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, the talents behind SPR, produced and directed a 705 minute TV miniseries on HBO called Band of Brothers. This incredible re-enactment of the lives of a few handfuls of young GIs during WWII has brought me to tears many, many time as I've watched episode after episode over and over again.

When you first watch it, you can be easily confused because the cast of characters are monumental. There are so many names, some you meet only once, and others who stay with you the entire story. Then the producers slowly introduce us to some of the actual vets - now all old men - who tell the back story. And it is then that you really realize, really understand, what war is all about.

As you start to link the young actors to the old gentlemen, you see and feel the experience of World War II and the men of Easy Company. In some magical way, the casting directors found young actors who often looked like the real men. Eventually you find yourself simply astonished how any of these guys made it through those hellish experiences.

And yet the evidence is right there...they were still alive and talking about.

Talking about it is perhaps not an accurate description, for it was clear that for each of these great and noble men, the experiences of battle had left painful, lasting scars. It was in the remembrance of their fallen comrades that they talked; each man played down the role they had taken in the war.

Each time I watch the film I am so impressed that these were all just everyday, average guys. Most of them volunteered to be in the service and chose paratroopers because it paid a few more bucks per month.

At the very end of the film, the narrator tells about what happens to many of the members of Easy Company in the years that followed the War. Some died in accidents, others from poor choices, and others would go on to live on long full, relatively uneventful lives - not as war heroes - but as everyday Americans. Just like my Dad and uncles.

Well last night on the evening news there was a short and sweet tribute to one of those men from Easy Company. Shifty Powers who was known as a marksman and and all-around nice guy passed from us last month to join his band of brothers in the great beyond. It brought a tear to my eye again and a feeling of loss that is usually associated with the death of a close friend or family member. I think after watching Band of Brothers an innumerable amount of times, each of these men have become, in some ways, like family members and close friends.

I salute you Shifty and all of the others who went before you and who are waiting their time to join you.

In closing, perhaps Maj. Dick Winters, Shifty's CO said it best:
During the interview segment of the miniseries Band of Brothers, Winters quoted a passage from a letter he received from Sergeant Mike Ranney, "'I cherish the memories of a question my grandson asked me the other day when he said, Grandpa, were you a hero in the war?' Grandpa said 'No… but I served in a company of heroes…'"
Here are some background links on Shifty and Band of Brothers

Shifty Powers of ‘Band of Brothers’ fame dies

Band Of Brothers Hero, Darrell ‘Shifty’ Powers Dies

War Hero E-mail Goes Worldwide -- But Who Really Wrote It?

Wikipedia on Darrell "Shifty" Powers

D-Day Normandy site - in his own words (Note: you may have to use the search to find this link)

Band of Brothers - IMDB and about Shifty's character played by Peter Youngblood Hills

~jeb

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

More Wyeth Lore


I’ve already posted My Andrew Wyeth Story in this blog twice; once two summers ago and again last winter when Andy died. And since this Sunday, July 12 is Andy's birthday, and proclaimed A Day for Andrew Wyeth by Governor Baldacci, I thought it was appropriate to share this latest yarn.

Several weeks ago I had the opportunity to drive to New York for the wedding of one of my nieces. I stayed at my sister’s house in north Jersey for the whole weekend. As Saturday turned into another one of our all too common rainy days, she suggested we drive down to Montclair, NJ and visit the Montclair Museum of American and Native Art. The sister explained that they were currently exhibiting The Wyeths: Three Generations and that she had been there a few weeks earlier with her kindergarten class. She was knowledgeable about My Wyeth Story although I reminded her of some of the highlights and the post script involving Andy’s granddaughter Vic. The sister howled.

We arrived at the Montclair in the early afternoon and learned that there would be a gallery walk and talk starting in a few minutes. It turned out that the docent that was giving the walk was one of my sister’s colleagues and I was introduced as being the brother from Maine who had had some personal experience with the Wyeth family.

As we had viewed the collection shortly before the gallery walk began, I told the sister a few more recent Wyeth stories that I had heard Jamie tell on the local TV station a few weeks earlier. But I made her relieved/proud when I indicated that I would be keeping my mouth shut once the gallery walk began.

The young woman giving the presentation did a beautiful job and clearly had done her homework. Although I know a lot about the family and the history of many of the paintings, this woman had a few tales that even I had not heard before and it was all very interesting.

A crowd of about 30 people following the walk as we strolled through the large gallery and there were only a few questions asked, all of which the docent securely and authoritatively answered. The exhibit sponsored by the Bank of America is traveling around the country and would be in NJ until mid July.

We were almost through the end of the walk and coming to the last few painting by Jamie Wyeth when the docent stopped in front of one of larger pieces. Called (I believe*) “Harbor, Monhegan,” this is a very colorful painting of a young boy, standing in front of a large oil tank that has been converted into a furnace riding on spoke wheels and spewing large orange flames and thick black smoke. I remembered seeing the painting on the television and hearing Jamie telling a little about the background of the painting. It seems that because of the limited ability to landfill trash on Monhegan Island, that summer, the locals hired this young boy, Cat Bates, to burn the trash in this makeshift furnace which he dragged up and down the beach each day. As the smell of garbage attracted the sea birds, the air and ground in the image, and in the real scene, was full of sea gulls flying and clamoring around the boy.

As the docent was finishing her presentation one woman in the crowd asked about the meaning behind the image of the boy and the fire. I think she may have half expected to hear some wild tale evoking images of Satan and Hell. The docent looked furtively through her notes and then admitted the she didn’t know the origin of the painting. I looked over at my sister who gave me a knowing glance and non-verbal permission to finally open my mouth. So, never being a shy individual, I piped up and detailed the story about Cat and the reason for the conflagration.

I immediately noticed that the flock started to gather around me as I detail more of the specifics. There was soon a dialog. “Is the boy still there? What happened to him? Is his name really Cat?”

I answered to the best of my knowledge that Cat was all grown up now and that Jamie had included him in several other paintings. And, no, I don’t know why his mother named him Cat, but that was indeed his name. (More info about Cat on this website)

We talked for some time about the Maine ecology, sanitation and the independent thinking individuals who inhabit Monhegan Island, Maine.

I was on a roll; I had a captive audience.

Next, I moved to another series of two paintings of sea gulls and told story that I recalled from the television interview with Jamie Wyeth. In this, I explained that Jamie indicated that while painting the gulls one day one bird came very close to his canvas. “I always wondered how much a sea gull weighs,” the junior Wyeth explained. “So, I just reached out and grabbed the bird.”

It seems sea gulls, like most wild creatures, don’t take too kindly to being handled by humans and put up quite a fuss. “The bird started pecking at me and took a nip out of my eyelid,” the artist pointing to some wrinkles above his eyelid to show the scar made by the bird. “They don’t weigh very much at all,” he added.

The small, thinning crowd went wild with enthusiasm.

I decided that I had probably said too much and deferred back to our leader to continue with the tour. But I could see that I had impressed even her.

Soon the walk was over and sister and I joined to thank the docent for her presentation and apologize for perhaps speaking out of turn. She warmly indicated that my contribution has clearly added to the presentation and that she would be using this new-found material in her future gallery walks.

We talked for several more minutes about my experiences and where in Maine I lived. Several others from the tour gathered around and wanted to know if I was a relative. Demurely, I explained I was a mere mortal and that I had was just a big fan of Andrew Wyeth and had seen a number of their exhibits in Maine. I didn’t waste any time and put in a good plug for our wonderful state and invited them to all come and visit us this summer. The Maine Tourism Bureau would be proud.

But before we ended our little Wyeth Love-fest, my sister encouraged me to tell The Story. Coyly, I set the mood and told a much abbreviated version of the tale. My new fan club glowed in approval and absolutely loved the story. They of course wanted to know if I ever took Vic up on the offer for coffee. I told them no, but that may be some day I would.

Perhaps I’ll head down to the Farnsworth this weekend and look for Andy’s granddaughter.

~jeb

* In listening to the WCSH6 interview with Jamie Wyeth, I learned that there are five paintings of this same theme. Not sure which one is in the Montclair exhibit

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Bing


You know you're an old geezer when you hear news about something called Bing and you think of this guy.


~j

________
Image licensed from Creative Commons

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Spock, I need you…


For old Trekies like me, there has been an evolution of interest and discernment about what we might affectionately call "The Franchise."

As a kid, I loved Capt. Kirk and Mr. Spock. I was mesmerized by the then-high-tech nature of the TV show, wanting to believe that the balsa wood cut out USS Enterprise was real despite the fact that it looked nothing like the real space ships NASA was shooting off from Cape Kennedy. Star Trek was like nothing else on television and made shows like Lost in Space look like child's play.

The plots of those original shows, scurrilously described by the TV critics of the time as "cowboys in space" and “swashbuckling astronauts,” were perfect for my 13 year old boy sensibilities. There on the backlot of some Paramount studio, the bold and brash young Kirk persevered in a to-the-death, hand-to-hand battle with some slimy, scaly Styrofoam-laden creature from the Black Lagoon. It was comic book drama at its best.

And as quickly as it started, it disappeared. Well, not exactly. Through the miracle of television reruns, you could continue to relive the Star Trek phenomena in syndication.

By the time the Star Trek story moved to the silver screen in the late 70's, I had matured, as had the characters. The plots in this next iteration of The Franchise were slightly more involved, perhaps overly melodramatic, but the special effects were all the more realistic and believable. With some super movie hocus pocus, the shots of the Enterprise traveling at Warp Factor 5 started to look – real.

We had all aged along with Spock and Kirk and grown comfortable with their enduring relationship. We enjoyed their fraternity which now allowed Spock to call his captain by his first name – something unheard of in the original series. And we reveled in the fact that the once romantic and sexy young Kirk had been replaced with a self-deprecating scoundrel whose libido – and ego - had somehow managed to be diluted with age.

Then, in the 90s ST: The Next Generation brought a whole new dimension - and a whole new “generation” of followers to The Franchise. The swashbuckling antics of old were gone, replaced by intelligence and craftiness. Battles were won with brilliance and cunning, not brawn and fisticuffs. The basic formula remained the same and to us old Trekies, who had grown wise with age, the refocus on the morality play side of Star Trek had a fresh new appeal. New favorite characters emerged and new 23rd century technologies provided more opportunities for more complicated plot twists and turns.

Though through this period, the memories of Kirk and Spock were not lost. Reaching perhaps a new zenith, The Franchise exploited both the large screen and small as more movies rolled out and the TV series broke new ground with a nine season run.

But eventually the two casts seemed to cross into a time warp that left almost all of them stranded beyond the Neutral Zone. Whether it was poor writing or a lack of imagination, the old friends were getting a bit long in the tooth and more and more unbelievable. Attempts at moving TNG to the big screen never really produced the excitement that was expected and Kirk and Spock had simply become old men.

The Franchise experienced a few more furtive twists and turns in the years that followed. ST: Voyager which started off slow and stiff eventually won me over. But perhaps because of the mere nature of the plot, Voyager had to have an ending that would be anticlimactic. Deep Space Nine and Enterprise never really resonating with me and apparently neither did it with mainstream audiences. Both of these later iterations did not last very long and it was beginning to look like The Franchise was relegated to thrusters only.

And then there was The Void.

With Gene Roddenberry long gone and several of the actors from the original series having returned to Sto-Vo-Kor, some of us thought that perhaps our fantastic romp in outer space had gone out of phase permanently. Perhaps too, many of the high tech gizmos that had fascinated us in1965 had simply become pedestrian. As we communicate with our smart phones and track our locations on our handheld GPS units, we are now living out the Star Trek fantasies in our daily life.

So what could possibly make this new installment of The Franchise a success?

I admit I was pretty skeptical. It would take a lot to get me interested and excited about a new cast and crew.

So I must admit I have been surprised and pleased with Star Trek – the new movie.

Kudos to the director, writers and production staff who have managed to reach back into that box of magic and pull out a winner.

By returning to the original formula – cowboys in space – and adding a troupe of good young actors along with some of the best computer graphics money can buy, The Franchise appears to have brought itself back to life.

While I cannot give it a full five stars, I will confirm that the new movie is a nice entertaining experience that Trekies old and young have to go see.

In closing, you know what Spock would say…

Saturday, May 02, 2009

Springtime

spring growth
We seem to be about a week early in the growing cycle. That's alright by me.

~j

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Free range kids



Just got finished reading an article in Edutopia called "A Conversation with Lenore Skenazy on Free-Range Kids." You may have heard about Skenazy. She's the mother who became an unwitting international celebrity when she allowed her nine-year-old son to take the New York City Subway home from Bloomingdales in an effort to allow him to experience some independence. As I recalled the story that took place some time ago, I found myself remembering my own childhood growing up in Brooklyn and the freedom we had then.

Growing up in Clinton Hill in the late 50s and early 60s was an ideal experience. Kids at that time were allowed to travel away from the womb in increasing expanding concentric circles until the umbilicus was snapped from stretching. This was quite a feat for me considering my mother was not one to let her little darling steer too far too fast. Still, by the time I was 10, I was regularly hopping onto the Vanderbilt Ave. bus and traveling with my (slightly) older sister up to the Brooklyn Public Library at Grand Army Plaza.

By my mid-teen age years I had free reign of the "City that Never Sleeps" and eventually could be found taking the subways in the wee hours of the night.

My greatest feat of early-adolescent independence took place when I was about 12 or 13. At the time, my concentric circle of freedom and independence had expanded to about 3-4 blocks in all directions. Whether on foot, bicycle or roller skate, the opportunities and adventures continued to expand.

That summer, like most boys growing up in NYC, I was transfixed with everything baseball. The daily activity from March until September involved copious amounts of stickball played on Waverly Avenue, in traffic, with a stickball bat made out of an old broom handle an either a Pensy Pinky or the, quite-preferred Spalding (correctly pronounced Spaul-deen) ball. And yes, a homer was usually the result of a shot hit two sewers (aka, soo-ahs) distance; a feat that I was known to frequently accomplish. I was good.

That summer - it must have been 1965 or 66 - we had tired of stickball and longed for the real thing. You know, grass, a hardball, real bat. But alas, our little neighborhood had no such location for this kind of activity. The nearest bonafide baseball field was located at the Parade Grounds, a newly developed park just south of Prospect Park. The Parade Grounds contained a number of regulation baseball diamonds and was where the local little league teams (or school leagues like CYO) played. The distance from our neighborhood was a good three miles and required traversing through some "interesting" neighborhoods.

One day, quite spontaneously, my fellow scallywags and I decided that we should walk the distance armed with our bats, ball and gloves. I'm not sure why we chose not to take the bus which would have been a lot faster, safer and a lot less strenuous, but the likely reason was that we were all a little low on dough, and walking was free.

So off we went without a care. None of us had even bothered to tell our mothers where we were going. We just went. Ah, youth!

I seem to recall that I chose to be the the navigator and directed our posse up Vanderbilt to Grand Army Plaza. This was the way the bus would have taken us, and it was the route my father took when he drove us to The Park. Much like the scene in the movie Stand By Me, my troops and I talked up a storm and didn't seem to mind the long walk which was mostly uphill.

When we got to Grand Army Plaza we headed right into Prospect Park. I figured this was the most direct way to the Parade Grounds and I think secretly I was thinking we might find a suitable place to play much closer than the Parade Grounds which were still quite a distance away.

And indeed we did. Soon out into the middle of the meadow we caught up with another group of boys who were already playing a pick-up game of ball. Within minutes we had the Clinton Hill boys in hot pursuit of the Park Slope boys and a grand time was had by all.

I don't remember much of the game but mostly I remember walking home and how tired we all were. Despite the fact that it was all down hill, I think the extent of our exertion had taken its toll.

We got back to Clinton Hill just before supper time and most of us just peeled off and when into our respective apartment buildings.

I don't recall much of what happened after that except that I knew better than to tell my mother where I had been that day. She heard about it some time later and yelled a bit, but it was all part of the game.

I can't say that I would let my nine-year-old solo the NYC subways these days, but Ms Skenazy does have some good points to make. And perhaps the kids of today would be just a little better off if they had a chance to get out and about more often.

~j

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Portland Maine - Let's Celebrate!


I just read a story in the Friday Portland Press Herald that I would have thought should have been the headlines. "Forbes.com ranks Portland Maine the most livable in the U.S."

While I would not dispute the "livable" aspect of this - I was a bit surprised by the acknowledgment that the Portland "metropolitan area" is over 500,000 people; 513,102 to be exact. That seemed like a bit much. In fact, I found it hard to believe that almost half of the entire state's population lives in the Portland "metro."

As you have heard me rant in other blogs, having grown up in "the greatest city in the world" I find all references to Maine having a "metro" anything a big laugh.

But indeed, according to the US Census Bureau there are that many people in the Maine counties of Cumberland, York and Sagadahoc. In fact, Sagadahoc only accounts for a mere 36,000 of the total. Southern Maine is getting to be a big place.

Even though I have never lived in the City of Portland, I guess the years that I lived in York county makes me at least a former "metro" resident. Sanford, where I lived for about ten years, I am sure did nothing to add to the credit of this honor.

In any case, Portland, Maine clearly deserves the honor and should get more than a small article on page three of the PPH. C'mon guys!

According to the article on Forbes.com
, Portland beat out Bethesda, Md., and Des Moines, Iowa., Bridgeport/Stamford, Conn., and Tulsa, Okla. Of these, I have only been to Bridgeport/Stamford and I can attest we are much better than there. Sorry.

So, let's strike up the band, get out the confetti and have a party. At this dismal time of the year, in this dismal economic climate, we need something to celebrate.

WooHoo Portland Metro!

~j

Image from MainePuzzles.com

Monday, March 23, 2009

Just How Effective are On-Line Schools?


I am sure it was a simple coincidence that these two stories appeared next to each other on the ASCD Smart Brief.

You be the judge about the efficacy of "on-line schools" as these are the links to the two stories:

Online school aims to keep at-risk students from dropping out

Online school says too many students slacking off

~j

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Chinese Proverb



My sister just sent me this e-mail:

ABOUT MONEY
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY A HOUSE, BUT NOT A HOME.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY A CLOCK, BUT NOT TIME.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY A BED, BUT NOT SLEEP.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY A BOOK, BUT NOT KNOWLEDGE.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T SEE A DOCTOR, BUT NOT GOOD HEALTH.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY A POSITION, BUT NOT RESPECT.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY BLOOD, BUT NOT LIFE.
WITH MONEY YOU CAN'T BUY SEX, BUT NOT LOVE.
THIS CHINESE PROVERB BRINGS LUCK. IT ORIGINATED FROM THE NETHERLANDS.
THIS PROVERB HAS GONE AROUND THE WORLD 8 TIMES.NOW IT IS YOUR TURN TO HAVE GOOD LUCK ONCE YOU HAVE RECEIVED IT.
THIS IS NOT A JOKE YOUR LUCK WILL ARRIVE BY MAIL OR VIA THE INTERNET
SEND A COPY TO THE PEOPLE WHO REALLY NEED LUCK. DO NOT SEND MONEY, BECAUSE YOU CANNOT BUY LUCK, AND DO NOT KEEP IT FOR MORE THAN 4 DAYS.
ONE MAN, GOT HIS FIRST COPY OF THE PROVERB IN 1953 AND ASKED HIS SECRETARY TO MAKE HIM 20 COPIES.NINE HOURS LATER HE WON $99 MILLION IN THE LOTTERY IN HIS COUNTRY.
AN EMPLOYEE OF HIS RECEIVED THE SAME CARD, BUT DID NOT FORWARD IT. A FEW DAYS LATER HE LOST HIS JOB.AFTER THAT, HE CHANGED HIS MIND, SENT IT, AND BECAME RICH.
IN 1967, ANOTHER MAN GOT THE PROVERB; HE LAUGHED ABOUT IT AND DISCARDED IT. A FEW DAYS LATER HIS SON GOT SICK. THE MAN LOOKED FOR THE NOTE, MADE 20 COPIES, AND SENT THEM. NINE DAYS LATER, HE GOT GOOD NEWS: HIS SON WAS SAFE AND SOUND.
THIS CARD HAS BEEN SENT BY ANTHONY DE CROUD, A MISSIONARY IN SOUTH AFRICA.
BEFORE 96 HOURS PASS YOU BY, YOU SHOULD FORWARD THIS MESSAGE TO 20 OTHER PEOPLE.
YOUR LUCK WILL COME WITHIN 4 DAYS FROM THE MOMENT YOU RECEIVED THE MESSAGE.
WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO LOSE? THIS CARD HAS JUST BEEN SENT TO YOU FOR GOOD LUCK. NOW LUCK IS FINALLY AT YOUR DOOR.
SEND 20 COPIES TO ACQUAINTANCES, FRIENDS, AND FAMILY. ONE DAY LATER YOU WILL GET GOOD NEWS OR A NICE SURPRISE.
I SENT THIS CARD EXPECTING IT TO GO AROUND THE WORLD.
SEND ONLY 20 COPIES AND EXPECT GOOD TIDINGS TO ARRIVE IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS.
IMPORTANT: DO NOT MODIFY THE TEXT THAT I SENT YOU. FORWARD IT EXACTLY THE WAY YOU GOT IT.
GOOD LUCK!

Here is what (some - not all) people are saying about it on the web:

There is no Anthony de Croud. The e-mail is SPAM.

Is it too good to be true?


pet peeve of the week: chain letters

Blogs about: Chain Letters

Το άτιμο το χρήμα

MIT GELD

Note I don't know what the last two have to say, but I get a sense that "hoax" is an international concept.

Sorry, sis.

~j

PS: If I win that $99 mill, you'll all the the first to know.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Suspicious Letter


So this e-mail (see image above) appears in my mail client this morning "LETTER FOR BRANDT."

Yeah?

In recent weeks I have reported in my other blog about a serious and under-reported security breech in Adobe Acrobat's Reader and Professional application. While there has reportedly been no actual viruses released this way, I have, as per the recommendations posted in the various articles I've read, turned off some of the features of both applications until Adobe gets around and comes up with a patch. I was able to update to Acrobat Reader this past weekend, but the patch for Acrobat Professional (v 8) was not out yet. See security info on Adobe site

The other thing the articles recommended was to be very cautious of unsolicited PDFs showing up in your mailbox.

So my "threat level" flag just went up and I ain't opening this critter. I re-scanned my computer with Norton and have deleted the e-mail and flushed it down the can (emptied the trash).

Beware the Ides of March? Or, a little green man (with a strange name) on St. Paddy's Day.

~jeb

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Back to Brooklyn

A couple of dozen years ago one of my old campers wrote a song and made a video about going back to Brooklyn. It is an experience all ex-patriot-brooklynites have to do from time to time. Sorta like "returning the to scene of the crime."

The purpose this time was a college reunion which will be blogged separately. Here are the warm-up photos of the Old Hood - Clinton Hill. Enjoy.

~j

We begin with some landmarks...
Grand Army Plaza, looking north from PPW and Carroll St.
The Giant Phalus of Brooklyn
This needs no explanation to any Brooklynite.
The Corner. There used to be mailboxes on this corner that we sat on to "discuss philopsophy."
My block.
My building...looks pretty ratty now, don't it

This was my dentist's office....he, The Butcher of Brooklyn has long since departed, but there is still a dentist in that location...a good one I'm sure.







Monday, February 16, 2009

Twittering Thoughts




As you can see from the Twitter Updates block to the right, I have become a bit of a Twit-head lately. It seems that in the past week I have had a least three conversations with friends and family about Twitter and everyone want to know the skinny.

So I told them that one of the things about Twitter which appeals to me is the diversity of its Tweeple. Not only can you see and follow comments from people from all around the world, you can follow people who don't necessarily think the way you do. These are people who you might otherwise consider as "enemies" in the real world, but in the Twitterverse you can follow them, "listen" to their comments, respond if you care to, or simply ignore. I have likened the Twitter experience to that of a junior high school lunchroom - hundreds of conversations going on around you; some you listen to and some you ignore. And all the time you are focused on listening to your closest friends.

Recently I have found myself "following" a number of self-proclaimed "conservatives" including some who denote themselves to be "Christian conservatives." Sometimes one or more of them rant about something in the Congress that they are upset with, and I have taken the time to listen and try to understand. What I am sensing from this very small number of tweets is a sense of desperation with the recent US elections and some flailing about to express their angst. But I AM trying to understand them. Sadly, I am not sure the attempt at understanding is mutual.

One of the interesting things that has emerged from this experience has been my learning some of their "codes." Indeed there has been the use of "hashtags" (these are the words and abbreviations that being with a "hash" mark - #) that seem to follow along with conservative rhetoric. The most popular hashmark is #TCOT which stands for "Top Conservatives on Twitter." A number of these folks appear to wear it like a badge of allegiance. And that's the interesting part.

I wonder, why would anyone want to code their "tweets" with something that aligns them with a political group/movement? Is this a way of communicating with others of the same ilk? Is this a way of warning the rest of the world that the sentiments expressed are based upon a specific political bias or mindset? Is this a intentional means for drawing attention? Or, is this some form of allegiance to a cause?

The last idea scares me, but I think it might be closest to the truth.

But I am continuing to listen.

At the same time, I am considering a new hashtag for Twitter: #TPOT - "Top Patriots on Twitter." What do you think?

I am reminded of the Little Steven song "I am a patriot"

And I ain't no communist
But I ain't no capitalist
And I ain't no socialist
But I ain't no imperialist
And I ain't no Democrat
But I ain't no Republican
I only know one party
And it is freedom

I am, I am, I am
I am a patriot
And I love my country
Because my country is all I know

And the river opens for the righteous

~jeb

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Weird News Update

It must have been a slow day in the newsroom at the Kennebec Journal – Augusta’s home newspaper. I think that might be an understatement. Wonder if it is ever busy. You know, a headline like this really gets your interest up: “Police: At 6:41 p.m., there was a disturbance on Middle Street.”

Anyway, two articles from yesterday’s paper are my choice for Weird News Update. Unfortunately, I can't get them from the newspaper's website, but here there are from the web:


NJ police: Woman's ex-friends used cold as weapon

NORTH BERGEN, N.J. – A 19-year-old woman who thought she was going to a party was instead driven to a rural wooded area and abandoned in 8-degree weather in a long-planned attack by three friends angry with her over an insurance claim, police said Thursday.

Maria Contreras-Luciano, 22, of Dumont, and Amber Crespo, 20, and Dyanne Velasquez, 21, both of North Bergen, face kidnapping, assault and conspiracy charges and are free on $200,000 bail. Crespo is also charged with making terroristic threats.

The women planned the attack for more than a month, Cannella said. The suspects wanted revenge after the 19-year-old sued Crespo's auto insurance carrier after a car accident, he said, adding that he didn't have details about the accident or claim.

Here is the whole story from Yahoo News



In Utah, funeral for toilet that died in line of "doody"

Have a funeral, of course.

On Friday morning, a hamburger joint in Centerville, Utah will have a "moment of silence" for the potty that was destroyed last week when a patron's handgun fell out of the holster and fired as he was hitching up his pants.

The bullet shattered the toilet in the Carl's Jr. restaurant and sent sharp shards into the man's arm. The 26-year-old shooter, who had a concealed-weapons permit, was treated at the scene for minor injuries.

Here is the whole story from Scripps News

That's the news!

~jeb

The Best Wedding Announcement Ever

wedding rings

I kinda of enjoy the shtick Jay Leno does when he reads the headlines every Monday on the Tonight Show. One of the particular treats is when he rattles off the names in the wedding announcements. You know names like, “the Purple-Sage wedding,” “The Bush-Pylot wedding,” “the Hardy – Soule wedding,” and so on. So I have taken to reading the wedding announcements in the local Portland Press Herald to see if I can spot any of those weird names. Occasionally, I even read the actual announcements.

Several weeks ago this one appears and it has my vote for the best wedding announcement ever. I am not making this up!

Baker – DeLorme

FREEPORT – Chelsea “Look At My Diploma” Holden Baker and Noah “Hometown Hero” DeLorme have decided to stop pretending they’re even mildly interested in other people and mate for life.

Ms. Baker has received seals of approval from Cornell and Columbia universities and has an impressive resume that include “talking a lot” and “attending parties” for some of San Francisco’s hippest companies. The groom-to-be dropped out of high school, three colleges, and is currently an “underemployed” out-of-season farmer with no grammatical understanding of quotation marks. Their children will be talented and ridiculously good-looking, outshined only by their parents.

The couple would like to thank friends and family for countless hours of therapy induced by each other. In lieu of gifts, please send whiskey, aged 10 years, in commemoration of their decade of on-again-off-again dating.

Cannon report in Casco Bay will announce the nuptials on Peaks Island during Labor Day weekend 2010.

I hope I get an invitation to that party!

~jeb

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Pete Seeger, a true American




Seeing Pete Seeger singing at the Lincoln Memorial the other day reminded me of my own history with the man.

Reading today of a concerted effort to get Pete Seeger nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize made it more urgent to record this story of my own history with the man.

The easy part of the story – and the one that usually gets people’s attention is when I say, “Pete Seeger taught me to play the banjo.” After some oohs and ahs, I have to fess up and explain that in 1970-something after purchasing a used 5-string banjo, I purchased a copy of “How to play the 5-string banjo” by the man himself. I read the book, learned a few chords and some various techniques (most of which I incorporated into my guitar playing style), but never really did learn to play the banjo all that well. Well enough to fake a few songs and entertain the family, but never more than 3-4 chords.

But the purchase of the book, and my newly acquired affection toward Mr. Seeger prompted my father to tell me an interesting story; one I will share with you here.

Dad was a special agent for the FBI from the late 40s into the early 70s when he retired. So he was at the end of his career or in early retirement when he told the story.

As I remember, Dad began by telling me how much he admired Mr. Seeger noting that he was a “true American.” What I did not realize at the time was that for most of Pete’s professional life he was viewed as a Communist and very “un-American.”

It seems that some time during the 1950s Dad was apparently assigned the duty to “watch” Mr. Seeger. In his description, he told me the location where this took place and even noted the exact address where Mr. Seeger lived at the time. The surveillance work was really nothing more than what all FBI agents did or do; they watch and document what people do. It is usually all done somewhat surreptitiously, but as Pete has publicly confirmed for many years, he knew he was “being followed.” So this was not a big revelation.

The intriguing part of the story was my father’s strenuous and passionate assertion that Mr. Seeger had been wrongly miscast as anti-American.

It was the early 70s and I was at the peak of my own subversive period. It was the time of Nixon and Watergate and Viet Nam. I was a bit of a long-hair-hippy-freak at the time, but very mellow on the political spectrum. When I pressed Dad for more details about the surveillance he was mute. He simply kept repeating that the frequent public assertions of Mr. Seeger’s lack of patriotism were, in his mind, clearly wrong. He said this all with a knowing look on his face, and I believed him.

Perhaps what is most interesting about the story was not that it happened at all, but the fact that when I brought the story back up many years later my father denied the whole thing. No, he had never followed Seeger, and no, he had never said anything about Seeger’s patriotism.

This was extremely surprising and completely unconvincing.

As is common with many ex-agents and others from the quiet side of law enforcement – and I know a bunch of these folks – they frequently only talk about their work in cryptic and minimalistic ways. The limited revelations of details always come within coded terms that intrigue me. I usually am forced to do some homework to figure out the true meaning of the message. But Dad’s vintage message about Pete Seeger’s patriotism was very clear and unambiguous. He liked the guy.

His later assertions that it was not true really confused me. But I think I now understand.

I think it was part of that “old man’s disease” of becoming more conservative as you get older. Dad had been a Kennedy Democrat and adored Bobby Kennedy in the 60s. But by the 1980s he was a Reagan devotee and thought Lee Iacocca was God. He was proud to vote Republican and had autographed photos of George H.W. Bush hanging in the house. Ultimately, Dad never said he disliked Mr. Seeger, but would he would never re-assert the comments about his being “true American.”

In the 70s I had become a member of the Seeger “fan club” and would often play a few of his better known songs at folk festivals and social gatherings. Although I have never seen him perform live, I never miss an opportunity to watch him on TV. So, as Mr. Seeger began to perform at the Inaugural Concert in Washington, accompanied by his grandson and Bruce Springsteen, my eyes filled with tears. Like so many Americans who never thought they would live to see the day when a Black man was sworn in as the leader of the greatest country in the world, I am sure Mr. Seeger felt a strong sense of pride and vindication.

The choice to end the concert with the voice of Pete Seeger and words of Woody Guthrie renews my spirit and stirs my soul. This is truly a land made for you and me.

If you missed it, here is is on YouTube:



~jeb