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My ambivance about Ed Koch

Ed Koch also didn’t endear himself to upstate voters when he ran for the Democratic nomination for governor of New York State in 1982, again against Mario Cuomo.

 

Edward I. Koch died recently. He was the brash, outspoken mayor of New York City from 1978 to 1989. You should watch this interview conducted in 2007, where he “reflected on his life and political career, and talked of how he would like to be remembered.” I would agree that he brought some fiscal stability to a city on the brink of bankruptcy, “turning a $1 billion budget deficit into a $500 million surplus in five years. He restored the city’s credit, doubled the annual budget to $26 billion and oversaw $19 billion in capital improvements.”

The year 1977 was tough for both NYCNY and me. The city had a blackout that led to widespread looting. A guy dubbed Son of Sam was going around shooting people. I had graduated from college the year before and was underemployed in my college town in the autumn of 1976. In desperation, I lived with my parents in Charlotte, NC for the first four months of 1977; not my favorite place at the time. Then, after a brief trip to Binghamton, NY, I ended up living in the apartment of my sister and her husband at the time. Much of the time, they were in Boston, though they were present some of the time, and he and I did not get along that well.

I had a 30 hour per week telephone job from 6 pm until midnight. I spent most of my time hanging out in Greenwich Village with a co-worker named Michael, who pursued an ill-fated romance with a young woman. I’ve long since lost track of him, but have remained friends with the woman to this day.

So I wasn’t all that engaged with the politics that was going on. It seemed that there were a half dozen folks running for mayor. Ed Koch had been a reform-minded member of Congress, but his pro-death penalty position troubled me greatly. I ended up rooting for Mario Cuomo, who was the state’s Secretary of State.

Despite living there, I was totally unaware of signs that were apparently all over the city saying “Vote for Cuomo, not the homo.” Mario Cuomo has continually denied being behind these signs, and though Cuomo and Koch appeared together from time to time subsequently, Koch never forgave either Mario, or his son Andrew, the current New York State governor. (I tend to believe Mario, but wouldn’t be surprised if Andrew were involved; he was a very nasty guy.)

He also didn’t endear himself to upstate voters when he ran for the Democratic nomination for governor of New York State in 1982, again against Mario Cuomo. Koch described his run as hubris. He was hurt by an interview with Playboy magazine, where he was insulting to upstaters, describing rural life as “a joke,” for instance.

Amid his accomplishments, and they were many, it was thought by many that he was lousy on race relations with blacks, and extremely slow in responding to the HIV/AIDS crisis.

After his time as mayor, he worked as a partner in a law firm, did radio commentary, wrote newspaper columns, and even movie reviews. talk-show guest. his support of the war in Iraq peeved me, especially since he had opposed the Vietnam war as a Congressman. More recently, he tried, unsuccessfully, to get nonpartisan reapportionment done, which I support.

The writer Pete Hamill said in 2005 that he was “some mad combination of a Lindy’s waiter, Coney Island barker, Catskills comedian, irritated school principal and eccentric uncle.” This was meant as a compliment, and it’s pretty accurate. The praise he received was no doubt warranted, but somehow, I was not his biggest fan.
***
Artists Against Fracking is a video postcard from Yoko Ono to Andrew Cuomo

From the 1977 Sacred Songs album, NYCNY by Daryl Hall, which rather sounds like NYC, NY of 1977

Book Review: THE ME GENERATION…BY ME (Growing Up In The ’60s)

Ken Levine’s early life had a lot to do with growing up Jewish, not particularly coordinated or popular – perhaps one could say nerdy – in Southern California.

 

Ken Levine is a blogger I’ve been following for about five years, and whose observations about the entertainment industry I enjoy a lot. He is “an Emmy winning writer/director/producer/major league baseball announcer.” So I was interested in a book by a guy who both wrote shows I’ve watched, such as MASH, Cheers, and Frasier AND has done play-by-play for Seattle Mariners and other baseball teams.

I put his new book on my Amazon wish list and received it for Christmas. The premise of the book he dedicated a blog post to is that:

“They say if you can remember the’60s you didn’t live through them. But that’s not true. 99.9999% of the largest generation the world has ever known grew up in the ’60s and were not so drugged out that the decade became a mere purple haze. 99.999999% of them didn’t attend Woodstock, move to Haight-Ashbury, protest the war by burning their bras or banks, or form a band that played Woodstock. Most of us went to school, had summer jobs, wrestled with adolescence, and enjoyed being catered to by the media and Madison Avenue because of our sheer size.

“And the world changed dramatically while all of this was going on. But in the background.”

Levine’s early life had a lot to do with growing up Jewish, not particularly coordinated or popular – perhaps one could say nerdy – in Southern California. He didn’t have a rebellion against his parents, though.

Like many boys of his vintage, he was competing with the Beatles for the attention of girls. He writes a lot about his success, or more correctly, lack of same in the area of romance. Levine knew actress Ann Jillian and had an unrequited crush on her.

Levine had some interest in politics; he actually watched political conventions. World and national events both surprised and impacted him, from the assassinations of JFK, MLK, Jr., and RFK, to the 1965 riots in the Watts section of Los Angeles.

What I really liked was how music was a marker for much of that decade for him, as it was for me. He managed to be invited to the first episode of Shindig, an ABC-TV music show, but somehow didn’t quite make it.

I was distracted by some chronological errors. The musical Hair was popular in 1968, but Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In by the Fifth Dimension wasn’t a hit until 1969. George Wallace was a serious contender for President in 1968, not 1964.

Still, it’s enjoyable enough, although if coarse language bothers you, this book will annoy you. Non-essential; I suspect that his next volume when his writing career begins in earnest, will be more to my liking.

Another reason why the English language is hard to learn

“A pair (or group) of heteronyms are words that have the same spelling (they are homographs) but different pronunciation (they are heterophones) and also different meanings.”

Having a daughter who is in third grade, I can attest that learning English can be rather tricky, because the rules seem so arbitrary, no doubt a function of its multifaceted roots.

Here’s a list someone sent me of heteronyms. What’s that?

“A pair (or group) of heteronyms are words that have the same spelling (they are homographs) but different pronunciation (they are heterophones) and also different meanings.” And the linked page has even more examples, with some contextual understanding.

The bandage was wound around the wound.

The farm was used to produce produce.

The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

We must polish the Polish furniture.

He could lead if he would get the lead out.

The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

I did not object to the object.

The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

They were too close to the door to close it.

The buck does funny things when the does are present.

A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

After a number of injections, my jaw got number.

Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
***
Also see HERE.

(From The Bad Chemicals; used by permission)

Let’s get physical music

If the digitization of music has rendered the perception of the album as defunct, I would still argue that vision of at least some artists are broader than the hit single.

 

I’m listening to the pre-show of the only musical podcast I listen to regularly, that being Coverville. Brian is setting up the show, realizes that some song is “protected,” so that we wouldn’t hear it if he played it, and decides to download a replacement song. He’s in Amazon when he discovers he can download the album but only if he also gets the physical album.

Getting the actual CD may have been a hassle for him; he goes through a couple of dozen songs a week, after all. Having moved a few times, I know that owning the tangible LP or CD is some work. Yet I still do.

I was at work, and we were talking about the death of the album in music. A pundit I read had suggested that the album, as a piece of musical expression, only existed for about a decade, from 1967 and Sgt. Pepper to the beginning of the punk era. I SO disagree; there were plenty of albums before ’67, and not just in soundtracks and jazz.

I know Frank Sinatra was creating something other than a group of tunes to support the single back in the 1950s. British bands such as The Beatles and Rolling Stones didn’t even put singles on the albums; that was an American affectation to put the single on the album and pad it with a bunch of presumably throwaway tunes.

In any case, the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, the Butterfield Blues Band’s East-West, and the Beatles’ Revolver, all from 1966, all feel like albums, as opposed to a bunch of songs thrown together, to me.

If the digitization of music has rendered the perception of the album defunct, I would still argue that the vision of at least some artists is broader than the hit single. I suggested to my colleagues that the album may have died with Green Day’s 2004 American Idiot, but I was being too glib. Paul Simon put out an album, So Beautiful or so what, in 2011. Springsteen puts out albums. I’m sure there are others.

While talking at work, a couple of us are remembering a Linda Ronstadt collection. Neither of us could remember the album title – it turned out to be Simple Dreams – but we remember the album cover; our favorite song was I Never Will Marry, with Dolly Parton, BTW. The physical recollection of the artwork helped us to remember the music better, something often lost these days; one CAN download the art, but it seems that it doesn’t happen that often, percentage-wise.

My colleague’s daughter had gotten into the group the Shins. I went home and put away the physical music I had played over the last couple of months, and while refiling in the S section came across the Shins myself. I had forgotten that I had owned it! For me, it was a rediscovery, like randomly looking at the shelves in the library and picking a book to read. Could I have found it electronically? Of course. But the overwhelming number of songs on my iTunes makes me oddly less adventurous; maybe it’s just my affectation.

In any case, I’m also rather suspicious of all the music on the cloud or in iTunes, for reasons Dustbury touches on.

Film and race: Song of the South, Holiday Inn, Django Unchained

I had, in a bad way, a jaw-dropping reaction to the Lincoln’s Birthday segment of the 1942 movie Holiday Inn.

I had heard for a long time how awful and offensively racist D.W. Griffith’s landmark 1915 film, The Birth of a Nation, was. It’s good that I saw it, but I’m glad it was as an adult so that I could appreciate it in the historic context in which it was made. I’m not much on banning movies, but there is something to be said about seeing it at the right point.

A couple of blog posts I’ve seen recently reminded me of this point. Ann from Tin and Sparkle used Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah for her ABC Wednesday post. I have never actually seen the 1946 Disney film Song of the South, and it has been quite difficult, at least for me, to get a chance to view it. The website dedicated to the movie describes the controversy. I think I’d be interested in seeing it. Incidentally, the very first version of Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah I ever owned, or maybe it was my sister’s album, was by the Jackson Five [LISTEN] from their 1969 debut, a swipe of a Phil Spector arrangement for Bob B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans in 1963.

Conversely, about 15 years ago, I got to see the 1942 film Holiday Inn for the first time, which stars Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire. I had, in a bad way, a jaw-dropping reaction to the Lincoln’s Birthday segment. SamuraiFrog had seen it recently and described the song “Abraham” as “the most bizarre outpouring of disturbing blackface [by Crosby, Marjorie Reynolds, and others] I’ve ever seen. Surprised to see that. I mean, I know it’s of the time and all that, but I just found it deeply, deeply unsettling.” Yeah, that was MY reaction, too, plus historically inaccurate portrayal of the 16th President, to boot. I’m just not ready to let my daughter see it. But if YOU want to see it, click HERE, and go to the 44:50 mark; better still, go to the 42:30 mark to get a little context.

Roger Ebert wrote about the recent death of Jeni le Gon: The first black woman signed by Hollywood was livin’ and dancin’ in a great big way. I have seen her work but never knew her name. A telling anecdote about Ronald Reagan is included.

ColorOfChange notes Sundance winner “Fruitvale” examines the last days of Oscar Grant.

I was contemplating whether to go see the controversial current movie Django Unchained. It’s gotten some pretty good reviews, and Oscar-nominated for best picture, among other categories. I’m thinking that I probably won’t, at least for a while. It’s not that it’s too long. It’s not the apparently frequent use of the N-word. It’s my, and my wife’s, aversion to lots of cinematic violence. We saw both Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown by Quentin Tarantino, but this sounds like a new level, and we are just not ready for it.

From Roger Ebert’s review: (This is a spoiler, I suppose, so you can use your cursor to highlight the text if you want) …we visit a Southern Plantation run by a genteel monster named Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), who for his after-dinner entertainment is having two slaves fight each other to the death. It’s a brutal fight, covered with the blood that flows unusually copiously in the film. The losing slave screams without stopping, and I reflected that throughout the film there is much more screaming in a violent scene than you usually hear. Finally, the fight is over, and there’s a shot of the defeated slave’s head as a hammer is dropped on the floor next to it by Mr. Candie. The hammer, (off-screen but barely) is used by the fight’s winner to finish off his opponent.

That’s the kind of scene after which I might want to get up from the screen for a while and take a time out.

Incidentally, the movie is mentioned in this article about the Second Amendment, the right to bear arms, being ratified to preserve slavery.

 

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