Prizing Great Journalism with the Sidney Hillman Foundation May 1

I look forward to attending the 2012 Sidney Hillman Foundation Prize reception at the New York Times Center on May 1, and am pleased that friend and fellow blogger Tom Watson of causewired.com has invited me and other bloggers as a special contingent for the evening. Among the honorees that night will be the amazing Ta-Nehisi Coates who writes and publishes great blog essays at the Atlantic, ColorLines: News for Action who will be recognized for their report, Thousands of Kids Lost From Parents In U.S. Deportation System, and Frank Bardacke, author of  of the current book Trampling Out the Vintage: Cesar Chavez and the Two Souls of the United Farm Workers from Verso Books.

The Sidney Hillman Foundation “honors excellence in journalism in service of the common good.” Their “awards and programs honor the legacy and vision of union pioneer and New Deal architect Sidney Hillman.” It should be an inspiring occasion.

 

 

A Spring Sailing Around Manhattan

My wife and son and I had been wanting to see New York’s five boroughs from the water, so last Friday we took the Circle Line cruise around Manhattan, which does offer views of each borough. Unfortunately, it was a disappointment. We arrived 45 minutes early for the 11:30 AM sailing, only to find that all outdoor seats on our boat had already been taken. Worse, the guide on our boat was a pompous jerk who droned on ceaselessly during our 3-hour circumnavigation of the island. He had no feel for the history of the city; scolded passengers like a control-obsessed school teacher (“Don’t stand there!”) and was fascinated only with money. (“An apartment in that building sold for $20 million last year.”) Fortunately, about halfway through the cruise, I found us three seats on the open deck, and Kyle, Ewan, and I escaped the guide’s physical presence, if not his amplified voice. From this perspective, we were able to view Upper Manhattan, Sputen Duyvil, the waterway that connects the Harlem River to the Hudson, and the little red lighthouse as we sailed beneath the George Washington Bridge, aka the Great Gray Bridge. We also were able to ID our own apartment building from the river, a neat trick.

The best part of the afternoon came when we got home and downloaded the photos each of us took turns snapping during the cruise. Even if the boat ride regrettably didn’t feature much of the timeless magic we identify with New York’s waterways, harbor, and shoreline, such as that seen in the 1920s short film “Manhatta,” it was a grand day and we took away some great images, many of which are included here. // many pictures following . . .

D.C. Launch Party for Peter Beinart’s “The Crisis of Zionism”

First version of this post was written after I’d eagerly RSVP’d to the New American Foundation that I’d be attending the launch party next Monday for Peter Beinart’s brave new book The Crisis of Zionism. I’ve been to several recent events at their NYC loft, and was glad I’d be able to make this one too. Turns out, however, the reception will actually be at the NAF offices in D.C. Still, with Peter under assault for reasonable and progressive positions he’s taken that are correctly critical of the American-Jewish establishment and Israeli policy, in the book, in a NY Times Op-Ed, and on his new blog Zion Square, I’m going to keep this post up, to accompany two others I’ve written recently, Netanyahu & the Right Wing vs. President Obama and Iran and Iraq–Deja Vu All Over Again? and send it out via social media as I would for any other post. With Israel perhaps on the verge of an ill-considered attack on Iran, the times are just too charged with peril to do anything less.

My Love of Live Music in NYC–It All Began w/The Drongos in 1983


Now well past my twenty-fifth year of living in New York City, I’m still a fan of going out to hear live music in Gotham. Last week, for instance, I attended two great shows, blogging about them here and here. Tonight, finding the video I’m coupling with this post I was reminded that I was keen on hearing live music here even before I thought about moving to the metropolis.

In 1983, then living in Cleveland and running Undercover Books and Records with my sister Pamela and brother Joel and our parents Earl and Sylvia, Joel and I drove to NYC one summer weekend for a record release party. The band with the new album was The Drongos, an ebullient New Zealand quartet. We were already fans of the outfit, and making it even better was that they were managed by book biz friends Mike Shatzkin and Martha Moran. Their debut album was feted, I think, somewhere around Irving Place, though I could be mistaken about the location. I do remember it was a great night, because the album was not only on hand to be celebrated, but of course the band too. The friendly foursome–Jean McAllister, guitar and keyboards; Stanley John Mitchell, drums; Richard Kennedy, guitar; and Tony McMaster, bass–wrote their own songs and played several of the ten tunes from their self-titled LP during the evening. Looking at the album sleeve today, I recall such great songs as “Eye of the Hurricane” and “Life of Crime.” “Non Citizen,” written by Mitchell, typified the uneasy world of a visitor living in a country’s shadows:

Living life as a non-citizen
Living under the table, keep your profile low.
Leaving friends landed in another time,
Came looking hoping to find the stages set.

Stony faces sleeping in the subway
And in the nights hiding in the clubs, they let it show.
Swim or sink, winning or losing,
No one said the city had to play a good clean game,
I say:
 Deep down, where we live
 Life seems so absurd
 But we keep on making the best of the western world.

Today those lyrics read like an 80s rock ‘n roll version of Tom McCarthy’s splendid 2008 movie “The Visitor.” Even while singing sensitive lyrics like those, The Drongos were a damn fine rock band, superbly professional musicians, entertaining, and tons of fun to hear live.

That whole trip with my brother, and that summer night in particular, was a great time. I remember it all fondly, not least because Joel died suddenly in 2008. Soon after moving to NYC in ’85 I looked up Jean McAlister and Tony McMaster, who were married and by then had a young daughter, Carmen. I remember a golden day I shared with them and baby Carmen in Riverside Park. As is wont to happen with so many bands, circumstances spun them out of their collective orbit, which doesn’t diminish the great band they were for a good stretch of time.

I was reminded of all this tonight when I saw that Richard Kennedy is still playing music, living in the UK–has a terrific new video on Facebook of him playing guitar, pasted in above. H/t to Ira Nonkin who posted it on Facebook, and to Martha Moran, who brought it to my attention. So glad I still have my LP, so I could shoot the sleeve for this blog essay. The original album pictures were shot by photographer Leslie Fratkin, another old friend of Mike and Martha. For his part, Mike has also blogged about working with The Drongos. // more …. [Click ‘Continue Reading’ to see detail of album photo]

Comic NY Symposium March 24-25

I’m really looking forward to attending the upcoming two-day program at Columbia this weekend, Comic NY, which I’ll be covering for Calvin Reid, editor of PW Comics World from Publishers Weekly. This will be a sort of reprise of the PEN World Voices Comics event, “Getting Real with Super Heroes” that I also covered for PW Comics World last year. If you love comics, or New York, and you’re around Saturday or Sunday, I suggest you drop by the Low Library for this free event (though seating is limited). Worth noting this event is being “held in association with” Will Eisner Week, in memory of the great comic artist. If you don’t live in NYC, or won’t be around this weekend, watch this online space where I’ll cross-post my Comics World contributions. The Twitter hashtag will be #ComicNY. Meantime, I hope you enjoy the brief video from the program planners.

C-Span’s Brian Lamb–Good for TV, Good for the USA, Good for Books

I read with interest last night the news that C-Span founder Brian Lamb’s decided to step aside as active CEO of the network, leaving the leadership to a two-person combo, Susan Swain and Rob Kennedy. I’ve worked with Brian and Susan and I’m very happy for them both–for Brian, who can step back a bit after close to three decades in day-to-day leadership of the innovative network, and for Susan, who like Brian has always been a pleasant presence on-screen and great to deal with on any matters relating to their prodigious coverage of nonfiction books. In fact, if publishers and authors have not given C-Span an award for its coverage of current affairs and issues books, it’s hight time we as an industry did so.

I got to know Brian, and Susan, when as an editor with Times Books of Random House I edited a book with him in 1998-99. It was Booknotes–Life Stories: Notable Biographers on the People Who Shaped America, drawn from Brian’s on-air conversations with the more than 500 biographers he’d interviewed on “Booknotes,” the program that preceded his current showcase, “Q&A.” Imagine a book filled with the insights of Robert Caro (on LBJ), Ron Chernow (on John D. Rockefeller), and Blanche Wiesen Cook (on Eleanor Roosevelt), and multiply it times a couple hundred. One of the great evenings of my career was the night we launched the book at Barnes & Noble’s Union Square store, with Brian moderating a discussion among Caro, Chernow, and Cook. After the signing, as we all headed across the Square  to a restaurant I had the chance to introduce myself to Caro, whose indomitable book on Robert Moses, The Power Broker, had crystallized in me a dream to live in New York long before it was a practical possibility.  As we were crossing 17th Street, I said to Caro, “Your book made me nostalgic for the city and a time I never lived in.” Caro stopped in the street, turned to me and in his broad Bronx accent marveled, “No one’s ever said that to me.” I was some kind of glad that night, especially when Caro later told me that he long admired my late author Edward Robb Ellis and his books, The Epic of New York City and A Diary of the Century.

Working on the manuscript with Brian, he was always self-effacing and eager to hear my take on the material. Despite what I’ve seen expressed by a few commenters below the TPM story on this development, C-Span has no partisan agenda, and neither does its founder. And the neutral ‘C-Span look’ that hosts have when callers phone in and make their aggressively partisan points? It’s no accident; rather, it’s a product of Brian’s studious refusal to choose sides in Washington. By now, if a D.C. backbench politician isn’t being heard, it’s not for lack of opportunity via C-Span and other cable networks. I’d argue that C-Span has made hearing from politicians almost routine, and while we may feel we get too much of them nowadays, I believe that’s an improvement over the era when few members of congress not in leadership positions were even heard from.

Detractors might say that Speakers of the House still control the camera, and that’s true, but not for lack of C-Span trying to expand the number of lenses positioned in the chamber. Now, if the Supreme Court would finally accede to Lamb’s request that they allow cameras in their Court–something he’s asked for repeatedly over the past several years–we’d also have a somewhat more open third branch of government.

Men in Trees

Riding my bicycle uptown on Riverside Drive in Manhattan on Wednesday, parallel to the Hudson River at around 119th Street, I was surprised to see a convoy of vans all parked on the sidewalk adjacent to the road, where one usually sees dog walkers and strollers. I pulled over to ascertain why this posse of vehicles might be there, and then heard voices and shouts from overhead. I looked up and saw men in hard hats with ropes tied around their waists way up in the high limbs of the trees. There must have been ten of these guys, all a good 40 to 50 feet above the ground. They were wielding handsaws and trimming limbs which then fell to the earth below. Over the past couple years, New York City has suffered some tragic incidents where tree limbs have fallen on pedestrians and killed them, so I figured I was witnessing the trimming of dead limbs for public safety. The amazing thing was there was no cherry picker at hand, or FDNY vehicle that had helped them attain those heights–these guys all looked as if they had rappelled up in to the trees, or somehow hauled themselves up to where they could stand on those distant limbs. I took out my IPod Touch and against the backdrop of the late afternoon sky, took a couple pictures, hoping I would be able to view them later and assure myself that I had not just seen a New York apparition. After taking those shots, I got back on my bike, marveling that the New York City I love is always capable of presenting me with another unexpected sight. I never know where the next one might come from, right in front of my eyes, or up above me in the trees.

Alan Lomax, Song Collector

On the Upper West Side of Manhattan where I’ve lived for 20 years I used to see this big man with a scratchy looking goatee. He seemed somehow familiar, and interesting, like if each of us hadn’t been hurrying we could’ve had a good conversation at a neighborhood diner. Eventually, a neighbor pointed to me who he was–“That’s Alan Lomax, the song collector.” Of course, that’s why I recognized him.

Before I moved to New York, I ran Undercover Books, a Cleveland, Ohio bookstore that also sold recorded music. We used to handle albums from such venerable labels as Folkways, Nonesuch, and Rounder. I had seen Lomax’s picture on the liner notes, as he had for decades been recording field hands, convicts, laborers, and other bearers and keepers of musical traditions. Leadbelly was only one of his great discoveries. I admired Lomax, just as I admired the Englishman Ralph Vaughan Williams, who earlier in the 20th century, even before he would become a brilliant composer of orchestral music, had ventured into the fields, docks, and sheep-shearing paddocks with early recording equipment to hear and record the tunes of local folk.

I never did get to have that sit-down with Alan Lomax, who died in 2002. But I was delighted to read tonight, via this article in the New York Times, that the vast archive he left behind is soon going to be accessible in a digital storehouse that will be widely accessible to scholars, musicians, and the public. Hooray for Alan Lomax, and the Association for Cultural Equity, the project under the hands of his daughter Anna Lomax Wood that is making these treasures available. When you read the Times article, don’t miss the interactive feature with recordings of Mississippi Fred McDowell, Bessie Jones, and other greats.