Happy Birthdays

Today happens to be my birthday but it's also a day of coincidence. If I had to choose two personal favorites among American artists, I would choose Walter Inglis Anderson and George Gershwin. I discovered Anderson on my own in the 1970s during the dedication of a National Park Service visitor center in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. The award-winning center featured architectural elements incorporating his motifs as well as interior displays of his nature paintings. Unfortunately, the center was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. In regard to George Gershwin, I had an ear for him very early in life as my mom and dad enjoyed listening to his work on the radio, records, and television.

Today, September 29, marks the birthday of Anderson and Gershwin. Both were filled with creative genius. Both lives featured tragic loss. Anderson died (1965) in his early sixties recognized as a local artist and obscure introvert wracked by schizophrenia. National appreciation of his contribution to American art would come slowly and long after his death. Even today he's not well known among general populations beyond the South. On the other hand, Gershwin would die of a brain tumor at the age of 38 at the height of his career and known throughout the world.

Walter "Bob" Anderson self-portrait, 1941

Walter Inglis Anderson, was born on September 29, 1903 in New Orleans. After training at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in the mid-1920s, he spent most of his career associated with Shearwater Pottery, a family enterprise founded in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Though deeply troubled with mental illness for much of his life, he produced thousands of vivid works of art - often called "abstract realism" - seeking to celebrate the unity of human existence with nature. I often describe his work as decorated illustrations that play freely with figure and ground and the positives and negatives of visual perception. His realizations of nature explode in the mind's eye. Observing Anderson is a meditative experience. Visit the Walter Inglis Anderson Museum of Art site to learn more about the life and work of this regional artist who only recently has taken on national significance.

Frogs, Bugs, Flowers        Walter Anderson, ca. 1945

George Gershwin was born in New York in 1898. He went on to become perhaps the most beloved American composer of the last century through his many compositions for the musical stage, the concert hall, and what has become known as the Great American Songbook. Gershwin's appeal comes in part from his colorful and lively incorporation of jazz motifs in all his music. He died in 1937 with what could only be called a spectacular career ahead of him. I often imagine what he could have brought to American music had he lived another forty years.

Gershwin in 1937

Studying these artists came much later in my life. In the last five years, that study led to a startling revelation: George, Walter and I were born on September 29. It's a coincidence from somewhere in the stars beyond time. I don't want to attempt an explanation. And there's no delusion here, my friends, I will never approach their genius. Not sure I'd want to. I'll simply leave it at that and enjoy their greatness knowing that we share a quiet and inconsequential commonality.

In closing, here is one of Gershwin's most beloved songs - with lyrics by his brother, Ira -  performed by jazz great, Ella Fitzgerald. The 1959 recording is one of 57 Gershwin brothers songs she recorded as part of her songbook series. The series of studio albums has been an annual best-seller among jazz recording for over fifty years.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Walter "Bob" Anderson, Self-portrait, 1941. Walter Anderson Museum of Art, Ocean Springs, Mississippi;

Frogs, Bugs, and Flowers, Walter Anderson, ca 1945. Repository: Roger H. Ogden Collection. Copyright: Roger H. Ogden;

George Gershwin 1937. Carl Van Vechten Collection, Library of Congress

William Faulkner: "Ninety-Nine Percent Talent...Ninety-Nine Percent Discipline...Ninety-Nine Percent Work."

Today is the birthday (1897) of William Faulkner, the celebrated world-famous writer and favorite son of Oxford, Mississippi. He explored the character of the South in a string of novels and stories predominately over a twenty year period beginning around 1920. This work earned him the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1949. Later work was recognized with two Pulitzer Prizes.

Faulkner has never been an easy read for this writer. His complexity and detail, along with the run on sentences and page long paragraphs, makes the experience as challenging as the analysis of his characters. Having lived four decades in the Deep South, I can appreciate in my own small way the 20th century Southern personality Faulkner captured. Folks here were different then. Now that regional character continues to change with a changing South. It is an interesting overlay.

In 1956, Faulkner sat for a Paris Review interview by Jean Stein. It became a seminal piece on the art of fiction as well as an insightful exchange on the writer himself. Readers can access the interview here. 

And here is the the author reading from The Sound and the Fury, the novel ignored by reader when first published in 1929, but would later bring him fame after the publication of Sanctuary in 1931.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Faulkner photo, Carl Van Vecten Collection, United States Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

Text:
title quote, from the Paris Review interview, 1956.
Wikipedia.org

John Rutter: Owning The Music Of Christmas

The British composer, John Rutter, celebrates his 73rd birthday today.  He is deeply appreciated in the U.S. and Britain for his many choral and other compositions, for his work as a conductor and arranger. and as the founder of The Cambridge Singers. Some classical music critics, mostly in Great Britain, find his compositions to be a bit simple, repetitive, and stylistically confused. Others place him at the top among 20th century composers. I have to side with the latter appraisals. The melodies are generally simple, the harmonies beautiful, and the style affords a perfect balance of music and message. Furthermore, choirs of all sizes and skill levels perform his work to appreciative audiences everywhere. If popularity is any indicator, John Rutter's music will be enjoyed for a long, long time.

Rutter at Clare College, Cambridge, England

Last December The New York Times published a fine article describing the him appropriately as the composer who own Christmas.  The list of compositions at his Wikipedia entry provides plenty of evidence for this attribute. 

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Clare College Alumni

Tonight's Harvest Moon

The moon, like a flower in heaven's bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

                                                                   from William Blake's poem, Night

Georgia Sea Island moon rise over McQueens Island east of Savannah, ca. 1950 

This bright harvest moon

keeps me walking all night long

around the little pond

                                                                          Basho


The full Harvest Moon casts its shadow across the planet tonight. As the orb emerges from the sea, coastal residents experience the sublime event precisely as it has been viewed by humans for thousands of years. There at land's end under a star-filled dome the timeless sound of surf captures and commands our consciousness and wraps us in mystery and wonder. Add a moon rise and all reason flees.

The moon, like a flower in heaven's bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

                                                                           William Blake

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes 

And roofs of villages, on woodland crests 

And their aerial neighborhoods of nests 

Deserted, on the curtained window-panes

Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes 

And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!

Gone are the birds that were our summer guests, 

With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!

All things are symbols: the external shows 

Of Nature have their image in the mind, 

As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;

The song-birds leave us at the summer’s close, 

Only the empty nests are left behind, 

And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

                                                                            Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Lowcountry moonrise, Fort Pulaski National Monument Handbook, 1954

Text:

William Blake quotation, from Songs of Innocence and Experience, 1789
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Harvest Moon, public domain, www.poets.org
Basho haiku, gist.github.com, originally from wed.archives.org

Autumn Walks The Land

In a little more than an hour Autumn begins at out house on a ridge in Piedmont woods southeast of Atlanta. In spite of the heat I know the season is about to change. The evenings cool comparatively quickly and the humidity rises after midnight instead of steaming us as on most summer days. In addition the hummingbirds are more aggressive than usual around the feeder as they migrate to the Florida coast and the great passage over the Gulf of Mexico to their winter home. In contrast the several pairs of cardinals we know don't thrash among the tropicals around our porch. In part, I suppose they're no longer as territorial now that their broods have fledged. Perhaps the biggest change in the season is its sound. For one the tree frogs are quiet now that summer showers have ended and we're in the midst of the driest eight weeks of the year. In addition we no longer have the sunset symphony of cicadas, katydids, and other insects at our door. In late September they are confined to the deeper woods at the top of the ridge and their sounds drift down to the porch. I'll soon miss their sound but at least our conversations with friends on the porch will no longer be drowned out by the accompaniment.

So today may be the first day of autumn but our high temperature reached 90 degrees and the humidity was more like a measure reserved for the Rockies and the central Continental Divide rather than the rolling Appalachian Piedmont. In other words it was a stunningly beautiful summer day unless you looked at the calendar. Our drought may have yellowed the tulip poplar leaves in late August but they're hanging on for the first windy cool front to bring them down. Looking in our woods today you'd see nothing but a rich green. Though summer may linger lovingly here in the Lower South we know Autumn brings its own pleasures. 

To Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

'The narrow bud opens her beauties to

The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;

Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and

Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,

Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,

And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

'The spirits of the air live in the smells

Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round

The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'

Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,

Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak

Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

                                                                                    William Blake (1757-1827)

Here is music, George Winston's Autumn (1982), to set the mood this evening as Autumn drifts into our lives.  Winston has been very generous with his musical talent over many years. If you enjoy this album please consider buying it and the others in his seasonal series. 

Eighty-One Years Of Bilbo Baggins In Print

Today marks the 81st anniversary of the publication of The Hobbit. For all Tolkien fans who have come to love the book and stories to follow, Corey Olsen wrote a history of The Hobbit for its 75 anniversary in 2012. Here is a post he wrote about the book and the evolution of its main character, Bilbo Baggins, for The Daily Beast. 

Olsen included seven illustrations Tolkien drew for the book, one of them being the dust jacket, proving he was not only a superb writer, but also an accomplished artist.

I first read The Hobbit over fifty years ago. It was an instant favorite, and like all of Tolkien's fantasy, an armchair adventure to be enjoyed over and over again. 

The Fire Still Burns At Cap Rock

Forty five years ago tonight, park rangers at Joshua Tree National Monument - now a national park- noticed a huge fireball on the ridge at Cap Rock. Upon investigation, they found a flaming coffin and the partially burned remains of Gram Parsons, a 26 year old musician who would become a music legend. In his fast and loose life Parsons would blend rock, country, R&B, and gospel into a new sound as he pursued what he called "cosmic American music." If you listen to The International Submarine Band, The Byrds, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and his work with Emmylou Harris, you can hear that sound emerging. 

Parsons in 1973

In a few hours, the pilgrims will make their trek to Cap Rock to pay their respects to Parsons as they have for decades. Rangers may close the area, but that won't make a difference. The faithful will be there.

For more on the Gram Parsons story and the bizarre attempt at his cremation in the desert he loved, read the comprehensive Wikipedia entry with many links to his discography as well as a direct link the the entry on his death.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

publicity portrait of Gram Parsons for Reprise Records, public domain
Full Moon at Cap Rock, Nikhil's Domain

Antietam: Loss, Freedom, and Remembrance

Today marks the 156th anniversary of the Battle of Antietam, a one-day Civil War clash in the Great Valley of Maryland near the town of Sharpsburg. It was a marginal victory at best for the Union, but it marked an end to Confederate success on the battlefield in the first year of the war. Furthermore, it provided President Abraham Lincoln an opportunity to issue his Emancipation Proclamation freeing slaves in all the states that had seceded from the Union. The outcome and opportunity at Antietam came at a huge cost as it remains the bloodiest one-day battle in American history. In little more than twelve hours the conflict almost 23,000 participants were dead, wounded or missing.

Bloody Lane, Antietam National Battlefield in 2005

Bloody Lane following the battle in 1862

There is much to be remembered at this sacred place. Some call the battle a turning point leading to Union victory in the war. Obviously, it is a monumental step in the evolution of human rights in the United States. Sometimes the memories are far more personal. For me, Antietam remains very close to my heart and soul. I was at most six years old when my mother and father took me there to walk among the fields and forests, along the old Sharpsburg Pike and Bloody Lane, and over Burnside Bridge. The old monuments loomed large and in time a childhood full of memories at other Civil War sites and historical parks began to call out to me. It's no wonder I accepted that call and spent a career preserving those sites and helping visitors remember, understand and appreciate the American experience. And I wouldn't hesitate given a chance to do it all again. 

Photo Credits:

Walking Tour photo: National Park Service

Historic photo: Alexander Gardner, in The Photographic History of the Civil War in Ten Volumes: Volume Two, Two Years of Grim War, The Review of Reviews Co., New York. 1911. p. 74.

H.L. Mencken: The Baltimore Debunker

Today, September 12, marks the birthday of Henry Louis Mencken (1880-1956), the "Sage of Baltimore." He was a leading journalist and author on the American scene in the first half of the 20th century, and a student of the American language whose multi-volume work, The American Language; An Inquiry into the Development of English in the United States, (1919) remains an important contribution to the field of linguistics.  Mencken's stature seems to be on the rise over the last few decades. I'd guess it's because we experienced a concurrent rise in many nation-wide opportunities to watch logic, practicality, and skepticism destroy a multitude of political pretenders and their policies regardless of political persuasion. P. J. O'Rourke seems to have picked up the Sage's role as iconoclast and debunker during this period.

As much as I enjoy reading all of Mencken's work, the autobiographical books remain my favorites. His three-part "Days" series, Happy Days (1940), Newspaper Days (19441), and Heathen Days (1943) should be essential reading. They cover life and times from birth through 1936, the most productive and positive time in his life. After the mid-30's, Mencken fell a bit out of fashion as his curmudgeonly persistence began to grind on the American psyche. His perceived sympathy with German nationalism helped undermine his reputation into the 40's.

Mencken (r.) celebrates the end of Prohibition at the Rennert Hotel, Baltimore, 1933

Those who want Mencken's full story should read Terry Teachout's, The Skeptic: A Life of H.L. Mencken (2003). Teachout is a superb writer who treats his subject with objectivity and warmth. I also enjoyed the biography by Marion Elizabeth Rodgers but did not find it as readable.

If reading isn't to your liking but you still want some immersion into the man and his times, C-SPAN's American Writers Project produced a fine two-hour program on Mencken that should not be missed. It is a thorough multimedia exploration.

Mencken at his home in Baltimore, September 1955

I'm the third generation in my family to consider Mencken a favorite writer. Though the author as skeptic likely played a role in his popularity over the years, I think the humor sold him to the family - certainly has in my case. But there is a sad note to this story. In 1959 - I was 13 that year - two family members who were among the first generation to appreciate Mencken passed away just one day part. My dad was the executor of this challenging estate. The late relatives had shared a large home with other brothers and accumulated seventy years of cultural history within its walls. It seemed the only thing that left the house was weekly trash. Included in that history collection were thousands of magazines. No institution or person wanted them as they had not yet achieved a patina of age, worth or "significance." I was given the responsibility of burning them and in doing so I watched a near complete, mint collection of The Smart Set and The American Mercury magazines rise up in smoke on a cold winter day. Both magazines were under the editorship of H.L. Mencken early in his career and featured many new writers who were to become famous in the decades to follow. Today, the collection would bring a nice sum at any literary auction. If the Sage of Baltimore were alive today, he would not be happy at this outcome, nor would he be surprised:

No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people.

Sources

Text:

No one ever....  paraphrase of the "Democracy" quote as noted in The Yale Book of Quotations (2006)

Photos and Illustrations:

prohibition, baltimoreorless.com/2012/05/the-rise-and-fall-of-prohibition-in-baltimore-maryland-1918-1933/

Patsy Cline: After All These Years

Today we commemorate the birth of a music legend discovered and nurtured by radio and television great, Arthur Godfrey, at the height of his career. You may recognize her name: Patsy Cline (1932-1963).  She was born on September 8, 1932 in Winchester, Virginia. In her early teens, she began singing locally on the radio, in clubs and at special events. By the mid-1950s, she was singing with a young Jimmy Dean on a popular country music show broadcast from Washington. A year after her network television appearance on The Grand Ole Opry she auditioned for the nationally popular show, Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts.

The public loved her. Godfrey loved her. He made Patsy Cline a star. By 1961, she was at the top still rising in popularity on the country music charts and transitioning to popular music. Her career came to a tragic end in a small plane crash near Nashville, Tennessee in 1963.

I grew up with her music often hearing it over the radio all day at our family's summer haunt in Burlington, West Virginia. The village was on U.S. 50, just a dozen ridges and thirty-five miles west of her first home in Winchester. That's a bit far to claim her as a neighbor, but still close enough to make one proud of a country kid who made it big. More than fifty years after her passing music fans still appreciate her marvelous voice. After all these years that's just crazy!

Labor Day Memories Of A Mill Town Boy

What a beautiful holiday weekend we've had in most of Georgia. Refreshing easterly winds  bathed the state in moderate temperatures and filled the sky with puffy cumulus clouds one usually sees rolling in off the Atlantic. We had the pleasure of hosting our children for most of that time.  Much of our conversation this weekend focused not on work but on past holidays and recent world travel, on our large and diverse population of relatives, and on future plans. 

For about thirty of the 55 years of our dual career my wife and I were accustomed to working on weekends and most holidays. We worked so that others could enjoy their day experiencing some of the most significant natural and cultural resources in the nation.  We consider it an honor to have do so but at the same time have come to appreciate the opportunity to share and celebrate these special days with others. In sharing them with my children, in the quiet of the evening  I'm often left with memories of Labor Day picnics.

Those picnics were day-long affairs held by the West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company to honor their employees and families on the workers' holiday.  The company had been the major employer in my hometown for three generations.  By 1960, the community and company were indeed a family and this day was their reunion.  With four to five thousand people in attendance it was a big event featuring plenty of food and beverages in addition to carnival rides, dancing, bingo and board games, swimming, model train rides, pony rides, softball, foot races and similar activities, real airplane rides at $2 a ride, and a playground filled with wonderfully dangerous equipment including the greasy pig, flying boats, two merry-go-rounds - one a center-pivot - and a very tall and fast sliding board. None of that equipment could approach today's safety standards. The big day ended with a free movie under the stars at the drive-in theater next door.

Although many of the kids I played with those days ended up working at the mill many of them went on to college, military service or other opportunities and adventures that took them away from small town life. In the long run I think those who left made the right decision. Today, the mill exists under another name, employs only a shadow of its former workforce, and no longer holds a Labor Day picnic.  It is a reflection of a community in decline, one left with vivid memories of better times. 

One item that does remain is the union wage and it's exceptionally good. Unfortunately the jobs are few and the quality of life in the entire region is wanting and now into its seventh decade of decline. Regardless, throughout my life, I've always made a point to family, friends, and colleagues that all work is honorable. Every employee, from minimum wage to executive salary, contributes to achieving organizational success. That college diploma still largely determines where one will fall on the earnings scale; however, that formula is changing rapidly. In fact, opportunities to develop skills beyond the academic campus have never been greater. Simply put, the American Dream may be closer to more employees now than ever. That should make many people very happy. If we could just find a way to resurrect an honest liberal arts curriculum in high school, I would be very pleased. It would anchor tomorrow's happy workers in the principles, ethics, and precedents necessary to understand, appreciate and perpetuate the best of the American experience as we have come to know it. Labor Days as I both remember and enjoy them today remain fine expressions of that experience. I hope you and your family enjoyed the holiday as well.