A Deranged Shooter, a Blues-loving Author, and Reflections on Aesop–3 Great Reads in Sunday’s NY Times

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After reading three terrific and interesting pieces in the NY Times this morning, I tweeted about them and so as night falls now want to share them here too. I’ll add a bit more about each story below the original tweets.


The ballplayer Waitkus was a member of the 1948 Philadelphia Phillies; he recovered, though spent several months in a wheelchair after the deranged shooter wounded him. Steinhagen had never met him till that day, and had become weirdly fixated on him. She was institutionalized for some years afterward, but never went to prison, and was then released. She outlived all her relatives, and just died in Chicago last December. The Times obit by Bruce Weber explains her death would have gone unreported had not it been discovered in the course of unrelated reporting. Weber suggests that Bernard Malamud was aware of the incident when he published his novel The Natural in 1952, in which protagonist Roy Hobbs (Robert Redford in the 1984 movie) is shot by a female fan.


Hamid, author of the new novel How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia, is very worldly, and his responses in the Times’ weekly feature, ‘Download’ about what he’s currently reading, listening to, following, watching, and appreciating, are very interesting, with good recommendations. I had not heard of online cultural aggregator 3quarksdaily, and it looks cool. I was delighted to see he’s a big fan of the blues and had not thought about denizens of river cities being especially susceptible to the charms of the American music.


Hoagland’s essay is not only important, in a planetary sense, it also has some of the most surprising and interesting linguistic invention and wordplay I’ve encountered in a long time. There’s a lightness to the way it’s written that reminded me of E.B. White. Hoagland lives in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom, also home to writer Howard Frank Mosher, author of the great novel of the region, Disappearances, and while it’s not White’s Maine, Hoagland and Mosher are also writers steeped in a powerful sense of New England place.

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NYC Pet Owner Grooms Dog in Park, Lets Fur Fly

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Walking from the #5 bus stop at the Fireman’s Memorial opposite Riverside Park in my Manhattan neighborhood on a recent morning I saw a woman combing her dog on one of the site’s marble benches and letting the white fluff fall where it might. Walking past the bench, I picked a tuft of the furry detritus off my wool coat and asked her why she was making no effort at containing the mess. She said, “Oh, don’t you know, the birds use it in their nests.” Having in the past encountered this form of urban littering–and the same birds’ nest rationalization, a seeming urban legend subscribed to by some dog owners–I once asked a NYC park ranger about pet grooming in the parks. He answered that regardless of whether or not animal fur is used in birds’ nests, the stuff stays around forever and that they do ticket pet owners for such carelessness. On Thursday, I told the woman that actually she was littering and could be ticketed for it, and asked that she make the effort to clean it up. She ignored me and went on combing her dog, with white hair flying around like so many dandelion puffs. I walked away stiff-jawed, gobsmacked at how willing to break the urban social contract some city dwellers are.

I have heard some New Yorkers say they believe that commuters who clip their fingernails on public transit, a startling act, if you’ve never observed it, or heard it, may be the most anti-social conduct engaged in by our fellow urbanites. On the other hand, this pet-grooming–rationalized with the self-serving assertion that they’re somehow helping birds thrive–is, outside of violent crime, in the running for the most selfish and outrageous of all urban behaviors.

I think it’s fair for readers here to wonder why I’ve bothered chronicling such behavior. I’m not sure, except for the fact that I kind of still can’t believe a fellow NYer would do something like this, and then bat away responsibility with such an airy rationalization. By sharing it and calling attention to it, I’m hopeful it may lead to more social opprobrium. Sadly, though, this woman was incapable of embarrassment or shame, always a problem when anti-social behavior is afoot.

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#FridayReads, March 22–“Things Fall Apart,” Chinua Achebe

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#FridayReads, March 22–Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, who died Thursday at age 82. I read the book in college, the very copy shown here. It’s a classic, richly deserving of its status. Things Fall Apart backThings Fall Apart front cover

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NYC Sandhog Trapped in Quicksand Rescued from Treacherous 2nd Avenue Subway Tunnel

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MTA photoFirefighters and emergency workers went to extraordinary lengths to rescue the construction worker I tweeted about earlier, mired as he was in a veritable pool of quicksand 100 feet under Second Avenue and 95th Street in Manhattan. In addition to the NY Times article by reporters Matt Flegenheimer and Marc Santora, the latter also appears in a video at the Times site discussing the incident, and there’s a graphic (below) that shows the unusual configuration below ground that led to the peril for the worker. From the article:

[Joseph Barone] became trapped midway between two entrance points used by construction workers, a distance of about 150 feet.
The situation was complicated by the fact that Mr. Barone was pinned at an awkward angle beneath plywood that had sunk into the mud with him. While some stretches of tunnel south of 96th Street have been poured over with concrete, according to the authority, the area where the worker lost his footing remains muck-filled.
Above him were two heavy bars used to brace the walls of the tunnel.
“The first units who got there were concerned about him slipping down more, so they got him roped up,” Chief Hayde said.
With the ropes slung over the struts, initial attempts to simply pull Mr. Barone out of the muck failed.
“There was a tremendous amount of suction pulling him down,” Chief Hayde said. . . .
Rescue workers considered using a cofferdam—essentially a plywood box, which would be constructed around Mr. Barone—but decided that in order to do so, they would have to detach him from the ropes, which they feared could result in his sinking entirely.
So firefighters also dug by hand, trying to scoop out two handfuls of muck for each one that seeped back in.
All the while, Lieutenant Goyenechea tried to keep Mr. Barone talking. He asked about his family, his favorite sports team and how he had come to be stuck.
Mr. Barone said he had simply lost his footing, and once his leg was trapped, there was little he could do.
The Rev. Stephen Harding, a chaplain with the Fire Department, said he was summoned to the scene to provide support to the emergency workers. But after spending over three hours above ground, he said, he asked to be escorted into the tunnel.
There were scores of emergency personnel, he said, covered in grime as they struggled to free Mr. Barone in the dim light. Mr. Harding approached, carefully, and extended his hand to grasp Mr. Barone’s. He could barely make out the worker’s face, which was caked in mud, he said. But a voice emerged.
“He said, ‘I’m hanging in,’ ” Mr. Harding recalled. “And I just held his hand.”
Subway graphic

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Joel Plaskett–A True Troubador–Unplugged & Loving It

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Plaskett 2On one of the snowiest nights of the winter, I took in one of the year’s best rock shows. It was a mostly acoustic set by Joel Plaskett, who began rocking out as a teenager twenty years ago in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Eight albums later, under such band names as Thrush Hermit and the Joel Plaskett Emergency, plus a near-score of notable albums he’s produced for other artists, Plaskett is a highly developed songwriter who flashes great rhyming instincts and an instantly likable and charismatic performing style. Following a great warm-up set by young band, The Great American Novel, a denim-clad, lanky Plasket stepped on stage in the Studio at Webster Hall by himself, playing a bright-sounding Gibson four-string tenor guitar. This weathered instrument, which to my ear shared tones and sonic qualities with  hammered dulcimer and autoharp, jibed beautifully with Plaskett’s bright pop melodies and voice, resting as it does somewhere in the upper register. After a bit, he was joined on stage by Peter Elkas, who played a Gibson acoustic fitted out with de luxe pickups patched in to a Fender amp with plenty of fuzz and reverb, providing a sonic counterweight to Plaskett’s treble tones. Peter is a hot lead guitar player, so though this performance had no full band, it had more than full enjoyment of chops, and a real rock feel. The duo worked comfortably through a full sampling of Plaskett material, “Through & Through & Through,” “Let Me Down Easy,” “North Star” (my personal fave of the whole evening), “Love this Town,” and “Deny, Deny, Deny.” At one point during these offerings Plaskett invited to the stage female artist Ana Egge, whom I had heard sing back-up with Rose Cousins last year. Now a trio, the harmonies became more enveloping and the tunes even sweeter.

Plaskett had an easy familiarity with the boisterous Monday night crowd, bantering back at folks after their many song requests. This was an audience that knew much of his repertoire. He was funny about it, and diplomatic, as he’d say something like, “Now that’s a very interesting request, and maybe I’ll play it later, but right now I had this one in mind.”  He explained how he comes to play a 4-string tenor guitar this way (lightly paraphrased): “One time in a store I saw this tenor guitar, first one I ever saw, but I didn’t have the money to buy it (150 bucks). So I said to my dad, ‘Hey, Dad, there’s this really nice guitar downtown.’ So he bought it and I got to play it.” After what by my count was the 16th song of this generous set, the musicians all left the stage, though a round of lusty clapping soon brought Joel back to the mic for what became a quite funny interlude before his encore. He took an IPhone out of his Cowichan vest and proceeded to sample some of his music library for us through the house sound system, with him miming the romantic vocal stylings of R&B artist Bobby Womack. Then, he played a version of his own “Fashionable People,” which has been widely seen because of a video he made of him dancing with leggy models, only in this new version the lyrics had been rewritten with goofy kids’ lyrics, making it into a suitable nursery school song. Joel acted out all the parts–funny, clever stuff. With that, his bandmates Peter and Ana returned to their places and he launched into the true encore, a love song to Canadian geography of the land and heart, “On the Rail,” with evocations of the scenic Cabot Trail, trans-continental train rides, sailing ships, and the stars in the sky.

As the musicians packed up, opportunities for conversation and mingling arose. Joel was just as personable off-stage as on, meeting and greeting many fans, including or two drunk ones. Earlier in the day the two of us had exchanged a tweet about set times, so he recognized me and we shook hands as I thanked him for the great show. I bought his CD, “Three,” and then wandered over to where Peter Elkas was winding up some cables. He’s a really nice-looking guy, and he was just as nice to meet. I told him how much I’d enjoyed his guitar tone and he explained how lucky he had been to find a scarce pick-up–mounted in the center hole of his instrument in the pics below–that allowed him to get those sounds from what is after all still just a Gibson acoustic.  It sounded more like Neil Young’s Old Black than a simple acoustic. I added that I enjoy the R&B sound he gets in his own recordings, and joked that I think of him as the “Boz Skaggs of Canadian R&B,” and we had a laugh about that. Seriously then, I recommended to Peter my favorite Boz Skaggs album, “Moments,” a classic record from 1971. Getting ready to go back into the sleeting night, I spotted the guys from opening act, Great American Novel, and introduced myself to them and handed out a few of my cards. They’re a fun bunch, and really replete with bookish associations, from their band name to their songs. I appreciated that and told them of my own book background. I learned that one of them, drummer Aidan, is the son of notable American fiction writer Jim Shephard, author of You Think That’s Bad. I’m going to keep an eye out for gigs of theirs and hope to hear them again. I said good night to friend Ontarian Nick Wynja, of Hack/Make whom I’d run in to here, a fellow member of the #R3NYNJ, a hashtag that signifies the CBC Radio 3 fan group of New York and New Jersey.

I had a great time at this show, a veritable “Joel Plaskett–Unplugged,” with him singing about 18 songs and playing almost 90 minutes. My first time seeing him–what a fun, passionate performer, full of banter and creative juice. He’s also a really great writer. Below are pictures I took last night.Please click here to see pictures I took last night.

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102-Year Old Desiline Victor Has a Beef with Antonin Scalia

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Desiline VictorDesiline Victor is the woman who President Obama saluted during his State of the Union address last month. 102 years old, the Haitian-born Florida voter had waited in lines for more than six hours to vote last November. A couple weeks ago she heard news reports that in criticising the 1965 Voting Rights Act, which the Supreme Court may strike down, Justice Scalia had called the Act’s special provisions–which target states and locales with a history of discrimination–a “racial entitlement.” Outraged at this remark, she sent Scalia a letter that Ryan J. Reilly of Huffington Post shares with his readers today. According to Reilly,

“Victor said she was ‘shocked’ when she heard what Scalia said about the Voting Rights Act during the Supreme Court’s oral arguments on a key provision of the law last month. ‘I thought you must not know what’s happening in this country,’ Victor wrote. ‘After learning more this year from the civil rights group, Advancement Project, I know that just as there were for me, there are barriers to voting for many people – especially people who are black or brown.’ Obama pointed to Victor, who waited in line for hours to vote at a polling place in Miami, as an example of why it was important to fix the nation’s broken election system.

‘I was born at a time when women were not allowed to vote in Haiti, nor the United States,” she continued. “After becoming a U.S. citizen, I was so proud to have a voice in this country. That is what inspired me to fight last year. But voting should never require such a fight. We need more make sure that all Americans can have their voices heard – we need the Voting Rights Act. Justice Scalia, the Voting Rights Act is not a racial entitlement. It is an important protection that helps all Americans exercise their right to vote. It was put in place because, sadly, there are people in this country who don’t want everyone to have an equal voice at the ballot box.'”

Victor’s full letter is pasted in below:

March 12, 2013
Dear Justice Scalia,
My name is Desiline Victor. I was born in Haiti in 1910, and I am 102 years old. After coming to the United States for a better life, today I am an American citizen and live with my family in North Miami. You might remember me from the State of the Union address last month, where President Obama told my story about how hard it was for me to vote.
When I heard what you said about the Voting Rights Act being a “racial entitlement,” I was shocked. I thought you must not know what’s happening in this country. After learning more this year from the civil rights group, Advancement Project, I know that just as there were for me, there are barriers to voting for many people – especially people who are black or brown. I also know that the Voting Rights Act is a way to protect the votes of communities that still face these problems. I would like to tell you about the struggles I faced in the last election.
During the early voting period in Florida last October, I went to my polling place early in the morning. The line was already very long, and wait times were as high as six hours. I stood for three hours before I started to get shaky on my feet, but no one could assist me unless I made it to the front of the line. In addition, there were no poll workers available who could help me in my native Kreyòl language, despite North Miami’s large Haitian community. I was told to come back later. I left. But I was determined to vote, so I tried again. On my second visit that night, I was happy when I finally cast my ballot. But I was also upset. In this great nation why should anybody have to stand in line for hours, and make two trips, to vote?
Not everybody persevered as I did. I learned later that hundreds of thousands of voters in Florida gave up and went home without voting, and that Black and Latino voters were more likely to face those shamefully long lines and wait times. One reason was a new law that cut the early voting period. Around the country, other new laws were passed that made voting harder in 2012 – but Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act blocked many of them before the election. Section 5 also helps voters in other ways. In the five counties in Florida that are covered, voting help in Spanish and Kreyòl is required because of their large Latino and Haitian populations.
I was born at a time when women were not allowed to vote in Haiti, nor the United States. After becoming a U.S. citizen, I was so proud to have a voice in this country. That is what inspired me to fight last year. But voting should never require such a fight. We need more make sure that all Americans can have their voices heard – we need the Voting Rights Act. Justice Scalia, the Voting Rights Act is not a racial entitlement. It is an important protection that helps all Americans exercise their right to vote. It was put in place because, sadly, there are people in this country who don’t want everyone to have an equal voice at the ballot box.
Equality and the right to vote are the shining lights of American democracy that drew me to these shores, and that right should not be taken away. In fact, it should be made stronger to help more voters who faced obstacles like I did.
Sincerely,
Desiline Victor

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Open Culture–Great Site for Free Film Noir

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One of my favorite films is “Out of the Past,” the 1947 classic with Robert Mitchum, Jane Greer, Kirk Douglas, and Rhonda Fleming. I’ve watched it many times, and enjoy it so much that when I re-view it now the scenes seem to unfold like movements in a symphony. Because I love it do much, I’m always on the lookout for other noir-ish standouts. If you don’t know “Out of the Past,” please see the visuals below, the box on my old VHS copy of the movie, and the jacket of the pseudonymous Geoffrey Homes’ book, Build My Gallows High, which he adapted in to the screenplay, under his real name Daniel Mainwaring. Given my fondness for film noir, and crime and detective fiction, I was recently delighted to discover that OpenCulture.com, which describes itself as “The best free cultural and educational media on the web,” has assembled a site with access and links to 475 movies, many noir flicks, all free of charge to watch.

As indicated in the tweet above, Kyle and I saw a good one last night, chosen almost at random from among Open Culture’s offerings. Set in San Francisco, Brian Donlevy plays a husband who survives a murderous attack on him by his adulterous wife’s lover. Minutes later, the attacker is himself killed, and Donlevy, who had first been assumed dead, later surfaces alive, only to be accused of murder. It’s filled with surprises and twists, and excellent performances–from the avuncular Charles Coburn as a police detective with an Irish brogue and Ella Raines, a beauty we had never seen on screen before, as Donlevy’s love interest, counterpoint to his vindictive wife. The sound and picture quality were excellent. It’s clear we’re going to be working our way through Open Culture’s vast collection.
* If, like me, you’re big fan of Robert Mitchum, I must also recommend Lee Server’s galvanic biography, Robert Mitchum: “Baby, I Don’t Care” (the subtitle is a line from “Out of the Past”).
Out of the PastOut of the Past back coverBuild My Gallows High

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#FridayReads, March 15–“The Big Book of Daring Swashbucklers” edited by Lawrence Ellsworth

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#FridayReads, March 15–The Big Book of Daring Swashbucklers an anthology assembled by writer Lawrence Ellsworth. Delightedly making my way through this terrific manuscript which I’m going to soon be presenting to publishers. It’s a spirited anthology of historical and adventure fiction that features generous selections from the work of such writers as Rafael Sabatini (best known for Scaramouche), Anthony Hope (of Prisoner of Zenda renown, Johnston McCulley (creator of Zorro), Conan Doyle (he favored his adventure yarns more than Sherlock Holmes), Pierce Egan (known for Robin Hood), Alexandre Dumas (there’s so much more than the Three Musketeers), and Baroness Orczy (creator of the Scarlet Pimpernel)–in all a total of 20 writers from what could be fairly be called the golden age of adventure fiction.

Evidence of continuing interest in the genre? Tom Reiss’s recent book Black Count: Glory, Reovlution, Betrayal and the Real Count of Monte Cristo, on Alexandre Dumas’ father, which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle annual award in biography. Here’s Reiss’s website, where you can learn more about his book. He read brilliantly at the NBCC awards a few weeks ago. His rediscovery of the elder Dumas affirmed for me my inclination toward this exciting new anthology. Delighted to be representing the supremely well-read Mr. Ellsworth.

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