Tuesday, December 31, 2019

On The Eve Of The New Year 2020


Welcome to the seventh day of Christmas 2019, the last day of the year. That means it's also New Year's Eve. We bookend our post tonight with two fine examples of the work of the superb illustrators and graphic artists who were part of the Wiener Werkstatte, a remarkably creative Vienna Succession movement in the early 20th century in Europe.

Postkarte no. 305 Hans Kalmsteiner. ART & ARTISTS: Wiener Werkstätte postcards – part 1:
"Good health, 1911"                                                            Heines Kalmsteiner

In much of Christian Europe this day is also known as Silvester or the Feast of Sylvester. Some of the more interesting iterations of celebrating the arrival of the new year occur in the Celtic nations of Wales and Scotland. In Wales "New Year's Eve" translates to "Nos Galan," a day to pay off all debts, visit from house to house (first-footing) to sing carols, exchange gifts, drink a refreshing beverage or two, and enjoy mincemeat pie and rice pudding. The day is known as Hogmanay in Scotland. It's a nice blend of old and new elements including fireworks, bonfires, torchlight processions, partying, and the driving out of trolls. The many features of Hogmanay will be repeated throughout this day as the new year sweeps across the face of the planet. Virtually all the these activities will involve the gathering of family and friends. Whether they celebrate among millions or simply with immediate family there will come a time to end the celebration and look forward to the sun rising on the first new day of the new year. In the western world, perhaps any place touched by British traditions, that gathering will end with the singing of Robert Burns's poem, Auld Lang Syne, set to an ancient Scottish folk melody. At least three centuries before Burns's lyric became popular, there was another song shared among departing English, Irish, and Scots friends on the eve of the new year. We offer The Parting Glass to you tonight as we ring out 2019 and ring in 2020 as a year of hope overflowing with blessing and goodwill for all.




Happy New Year 2020!



"Happy New Year" Postcard 149                                  Karl Dellavilla, about 1908





Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
theviennasuccession.com

Text:
bbc.co.uk



Monday, December 30, 2019

Kipling: A Wise Realist Speaks From The Past


Born on this day in 1865, the British writer, Rudyard Kipling, was a product of England and India. He infused his writing with the essence of Victorian times and the adventure of empire. Eighty years after his death he remains a popular writer, a beacon of reason and rhetoric, among political centrists and conservatives. His works for children, including the Jungle Books and Just So Stories, have never lost their popularity among young readers. It is so unfortunate that cultural relativism over the last forty years has sadly pushed Kipling into literary obscurity in most of academia. Although he may be out of fashion he still reaches across a century into an age of moral relativism and leftist ideological fantasy to remind us that ancient virtues and wisdom will hold us accountable in the end.

Kipling and his wife spent about five years living at Bliss Cottage near Brattleboro, Vermont, just prior to the height of his career. In was in this setting that he produced some of his most memorable work, including the Jungle Books, a short story collection entitled The Day's Work, his novel Captain's Courageous, and a volume of poetry, The Seven Seas.



Our political and cultural slide to the left in the last few decades has brought Kipling's appreciation of realism to the fore. One of his most quoted poems that speaks to the necessity for reason and the folly of cultural relativism is "The Gods of the Copybook Headings." Many readers have inquired about the poem since it appeared in this blog a few years ago. It's become a tradition of sorts to commemorate Kipling's birthday by reposting it each year. It is a power statement for our time.


The Gods of the Copybook Headings


AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshiped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!



Friday, December 27, 2019

Oscar Levant: A Wit Like No Other


Today we remember the American entertainer, Oscar Levant (1906-1972), who was born on this day in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  It's been almost sixty years since his last appearances on stage and film. He's likely unknown to a generation of Americans now, but that doesn't mean his endearing role as a comedy genius is ready for history's dustbin. 



Although Levant's presence on the entertainment spectrum is broad, his greatest impact was as a concert pianist, comedian, and author. He was trained in classical music in Pittsburgh and New York and divided his musical time between Hollywood and Broadway as a young performer and composer. He became a close friend and associate of George Gershwin and his extended family of stars and admirers. With Gershwin's early death in 1937, Levant would become known as the finest interpreter of his work for almost two decades until the end of his own career as a performer. Levant's Hollywood association not only led to his role as a composer but also as an actor. Although his filmography is short it contains a host of memorable, mostly comedic scenes involving song, dance and wit. Here are two clips of Levant at his best:


From the 1951 film, An American in Paris,


/


and from the 1953 film, The Band Wagon.




Finally, there is Levant, the writer. He wrote three memoirs, two of them best-sellers. His Memoirs of An Amnesiac (1965) is a recollection of his often weird and tattered life as well as a tour de force of wit and wisdom aimed at Hollywood's famous and infamous personalities beginning in the 1930's. His The Unimportance of Being Oscar appeared in 1968. Although both books are a bit dated, readers with some knowledge of popular culture and politics from the Golden Age of Hollywood in the 1930's to the entertainment world of the 1960's would certainly find both books entertaining reads.

Levant's bitter humor in his later career came with the high cost of mental illness.  It was a thread that moved throughout his life and a condition that eventually became the core of his stage persona. Odd as it may seem, Levant saw it as therapeutic and his self deprecating appearances brought laughter to millions.




By the late 1960's Levant's mental and physical condition deteriorated significantly, his drug dependency increased, and he withdrew from public life.

There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.
                                                                                                    Oscar Levant, 1959


Indeed there will never be another like him.




Sources

ClassicalNet biography, Oscar Levant
wikipedia.org, Oscar Levant



              

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Piloted, Powered, Controlled, Sustained, Heavier-Than-Air: A First Flight


The 27-mph wind speed was higher than they would have liked - their predicted cruising speed was only 30-35 mph. The headwind would slow their ground speed to a crawl but they proceeded anyway. With the wave of a bed sheet they signaled the volunteers from the nearby lifesaving station that they were about to try again.

It was Orville's turn. Remembering Wilbur's experience he positioned himself in the pilot cradle and tested the controls. The stick that moved the horizontal elevator controlled climb and descent. The cradle that he swung with his hips warped the wings and swung the vertical tails which in combination turned the machine. A lever controlled the gas flow and airspeed recorder. The controls were simple and few but Orville knew it would take all his finesse to handle the new and heavier aircraft. At 10:35 AM he released the restraining wire. The flyer moved down the rail as Wilbur steadied the wings. Just as the craft left the ground John Daniels, an amateur photographer and member of the lifesaving station, snapped the shutter on a preset camera In doing so he captured the historic image of the Wright Brothers flight that we know so well.



The Wright Flyer lifts off, December 17, 1903

As usual the flyer was unruly, pitching up and down as Orville overcompensated with the controls. But he kept it aloft until it hit the sand about 120 feet from the rail. Into that 27-mph wind the ground speed had been 6.8 mph. The total airspeed was 34 mph. The 12 second event was the real thing: controlled, sustained flight by a man in a heavier-than-air vehicle. It fulfilled an ageless dream and brought countless changes to the human experience in the years to follow.

The brothers took turns flying three more times that day getting a feel for the controls and increasing their distance with each flight. Wilbur's second flight - the fourth and last of the day – was an impressive 852 feet in 59 seconds.

For comprehensive information on this historic event visit the National Park Service's Wright Brothers National Memorial web page.






Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
unrestored version, 1903 photograph, John T. Daniels, Library of Congress

Text:
National Park Service, Wright Brothers National Memorial
Couch, Tom D. (1989). The Bishop's Boys. New York and London: W.W. Norton and Co.

Erskine Caldwell: Southern Impressions


The peculiarity, poverty, and injustice in the Depression-era South was embedded in Erskine Caldwell's memory. His observations had little to do with remnants of "the late unpleasantness" - the polite Southern term for the Civil War. They had everything to do with being a "PK," a preacher's kid who moved with his family to a number of churches throughout the South before settling in Wrens, Georgia when he was fifteen. Still, his father preached on long circuits and was happy to have his son accompany him. Caldwell later wrote that his father traveled so regularly that he could determine the destinations by the odor of coal smoke on his suit.

On these travels Caldwell observed the raw realities of the human condition in the South. After he left the South in the late 1920's, his vivid observations would be recorded in both fiction and non-fiction in an attempt to raise public awareness and appeal for reform. He is best known for his novels, Tobacco Road (1932) and God's Little Acre (1933). An adaptation of Tobacco Road played on Broadway for eight years - a record at the time - beginning in 1933. God's Little Acre remains one of the most popular novels in the U.S. with over ten million copies in print. A 1958 film version is considered the best presentation of Caldwell themes on film.

A very loose 1941 film adaptation of Tobacco Road directed by John Ford contributed to the stereotyping and ridicule of poor white Southerners. Furthermore, his "in absentia" crusade for improving conditions did not sit well with many Southerners. They were also uncomfortable with his depiction of sex and violence that frequently placed him in conflict with censors across the country.




Caldwell was born in Moreland, Georgia on this day in 1903 and died in Arizona in 1987. He remains an interesting blend of 20th century authors. He is Sherwood Anderson, William Faulkner, D.H. Lawrence, Christopher Isherwood, Joseph Mitchell, and a reflection of other modernists. Readers who enjoy Southern history and seek more than discourse on the happy veneer of its early 20th century human condition will enjoy Caldwell's interpretations.




Read more about Georgia's Erskine Caldwell in this article from the New Georgia Encyclopedia. The volume is also the information source for this post.






Monday, December 9, 2019

Joel Chandler Harris: Stories From The South


Today is the birthday of the beloved Georgia journalist and writer, Joel Chandler Harris. He was born in Eatonton in 1845 and raised by his single mother and other benefactors to love reading, writing, and humor. At sixteen he was employed at the nearby Turnwold Plantation as a print setter for what was likely the nation's only plantation newspaper, The Countryman. Under the guidance of owner Joseph Addison Turner, Harris read from the plantation's large library over the a period of four years. He also observed life on the plantation including its rich culture of oral traditions among the African slaves.




After a decade of employment with several papers in central Georgia and Savannah, Harris joined the staff of the Atlanta Constitution in 1876. It was here that he linked a Lippincott's article on black folklore to his Turnwold Plantation experience and the Uncle Remus character he had created for his feature writing. The rest was history, described here in R. Bruce Bickley's Georgia Encyclopedia article on Harris:

For the next quarter-century, Harris lived a double life professionally. He was one of two associate editors of the premier newspaper in the Southeast, helping readers interpret the complex New South movement. He was also the creative writer, the "other fellow," as he termed himself: a prolific, committed, and ambitious re-creator of folk stories, a literary comedian, fiction writer, and author of children's books. Harris published thirty-five books in his lifetime, in addition to writing thousands of articles for the Constitution over a twenty-four-year period. Along with his first book, Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings, the most ambitious of the Uncle Remus volumes is Nights with Uncle Remus: Myths and Legends of the Old Plantation (1883). This book comprises seventy-one tales that feature stories told by four different black narrators, including Uncle Remus

.  .  . 
  
Harris also left his impact on major literary figures to come. Rudyard Kipling, Zora Neale Hurston, William Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, Ralph Ellison, and Toni Morrison all responded to the legacy of Brer Rabbit and the tar baby that Harris had helped popularize. Fellow Eatonton writer Alice Walker protested, however, that Harris had stolen her African American folklore heritage and had made it a white man's publishing commodity.

.  .  . 


Harris died on July 3, 1908, of acute nephritis and was buried in Westview Cemetery, West End, Atlanta. Obituary writers were not exaggerating when they eulogized this celebrated middle Georgia writer as "the most beloved man in America." Only Harris's friend and admirer, Mark Twain, who died two years later, surpassed Harris in popular reputation at the beginning of the twentieth century. Harris's retelling of the story of Brer Rabbit and the tar baby remains one of the world's best-known folktales, and his complex legacy as a literary comedian, New South journalist, folklorist, fiction writer, and children's author continues to influence modern culture in a surprising number of ways.


As noted in the quotation, Harris's place in the history of folklore is not without its controversy. Historically there has always been a struggle in the sphere of anthropological studies with cultural preservation and destruction as well as ownership. In Harris we have a written legacy from black oral tradition as viewed though the author's personal lens. It isn't perfect but it does preserve universal themes and lessons in their cultural context. Furthermore his work in part inspired a resurgence of interest in storytelling and performance in a number of cultural niches. If anything, that interest is far stronger today than it was a century ago and much of it under black ownership. I can certainly encourage and appreciate that as well as Harris's contribution.






Sources

Text:
R. Bruce Bickley, Joel Chandler Harris, Georgia Encyclopedia, georgiaencyclopedia,org




Sunday, December 8, 2019

The Day After Pearl Harbor: Word Power And War Power


In early evening, he called in his secretary, Grace Tully. "Sit down, Grace," he said. "I'm going before Congress tomorrow, and I'd like to dictate my message. It will be short."

With that remark Franklin Delano Roosevelt began the process of writing a response to the Japanese attack on the United States the day before. The six-minute speech would become one of the most significant and well-known of the 20th century. Roosevelt wrote and revised the document almost unaided as his lead speech writers, Samuel Rosenman and Robert Sherwood, were in New York City on the day of the attack.



There were three formal drafts each with a number of revisions. Just 24 hours after being notified of the attack Roosevelt stood before a joint session of Congress and a national radio audience to deliver the final version of his call to arms.




These words were meant to be heard.




The words that we know as the "Day of Infamy Speech" are a superb example of the power of brevity, vocabulary, and organization. They remind us of an earlier legendary speech delivered by another president on a crown of a hill in Evergreen Cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on November 19, 1863. For more information on the Roosevelt speech visit this National Archives and Records Administration link.





Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC

Text:
Opening quotation, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library and Museum
National Archives and Records Administration
Infamy Speech, wikipedia.org



   

Friday, December 6, 2019

A Gershwin As Wordsmith


If you mention the name "Gershwin" today just about everyone will think you have "George" on your mind. Granted he wrote some spectacular music between 1917 and 1937, much of it as fresh today as the day it was written. But George and his melodies were only half of the story. His brother, Ira, born on December 6, 1896, added the poetry. Together they formed one of the most successful collaborations in American music history. While George's music has lived on, Ira's words survive primarily in the world of jazz and in the Great American Songbook niche among popular singers.


George and Ira Gershwin
George (i) and Ira (r) at Newark Airport in 1936


This excerpt from the Ira Gershwin bio at the Song Writers Hall of Fame website will give readers an idea of the scope of their collaboration and bring to mind some of Ira's lyrics:

Their first collaborations were for Broadway: Lady, Be Good! (1924, including "Fascinating Rhythm" and, although it was cut from the show, "The Man I Love"), Tip Toes (1925, including "Sweet and Low Down"), Oh Kay! (1926, including "Clap Yo' Hands", "Do-Do-Do", "Maybe", and "Someone To Watch Over Me"), Funny Face (1927, including '"S Wonderful"), Rosalie (1928, including "How Long Has This Been Going On"), Show Girl (1929, including "Liza"), Strike Up the Band (1930, including "I've Got A Crush On You" and "Soon"), Girl Crazy (1930, including "But Not For Me", "Embraceable You", "Bidin' My Time", and "I Got Rhythm"), Delicious (1931, including "Blah Blah Blah. "), Of Thee I Sing (1931, the first musical to win the Pulitzer Prize and which included "Of Thee I Sing", "Love Is Sweeping The Country", and "Who Cares").

The complete picture includes their work in Hollywood, the Broadway opera Porgy and Bess, and Ira's collaboration with a host of songwriters following his brother's death in 1937. Forty years before his own passing in 1983 Ira Gershwin began a long collaboration with the Library of Congress to collect and preserve their legacy. Today the George and Ira Gershwin Collection is the leading archive for the study of the Gershwin brothers and their impact on cultural history around the world. Read more about the collection here.




Sources

Text:
Songwriters Hall of Fame, songwritershalloffame.org
Library of Congress, loc.gov

Photos:
Library of Congress, loc.gov

Thursday, December 5, 2019

A Toast For Repeal Day


From 1920 to 1925, he worked for members of Congress out of an office in the Cannon House Office Building until he was arrested. After a brief hiatus, he returned to serving his loyal customers from 1925 to 1930 out of an office only this time it was in the Russell Senate Office Building. His name was George Cassiday. He was known as "the man in the green hat" and his business was supplying Congress with booze during Prohibition.

Reason TV has a brief article and five-minute history about Mr. Cassiday and his most interesting job. I'm left to conclude that the period 1920-30 had to be one of the happiest decades in history for our esteemed statesmen on Capital Hill.

And why are we discussing this story today? This is Repeal Day, celebrating the 86th anniversary of the end of Prohibition. This thirteen-year (1920-1933) attempt to end alcohol consumption in the United States was a disaster at every level and an object lesson in the futility of legislating morality.



H.L. Mencken (r) celebrates the end of Prohibition, Rennert Hotel, Baltimore

And it so happens that one of my favorite musical composition addresses this alcohol theme. Those unfamiliar with the piece will enjoy the translation below the link. It's a wonderful lesson from the 10th century illustrating why the control of alcohol consumption is a rather frustrating endeavor. This is a fine performance conducted by the composer. I suggest you pour your favorite beverage, find your best earphones and comfortable chair and enjoy the meaning of the day in moderation, of course.  Cheers!







Carmina Burana (Carl Orff, 1935-36)

II. In the Tavern
Part 14: When we are in the tavern



When we are in the tavern,
we do not think how we will go to dust,
but we hurry to gamble,
which always makes us sweat.
What happens in the tavern,
where money is host,
you may well ask,
and hear what I say.
Some gamble, some drink,
some behave loosely.
But of those who gamble,
some are stripped bare,
some win their clothes here,
some are dressed in sacks.
Here no-one fears death,
but they throw the dice in the name of Bacchus.
First of all is to the wine-merchant
the libertines drink,
one for the prisoners,
three for the living,
four for all Christians,
five to faithful dead,
six for the loose sisters,
seven for the footpads in the wood,
Eight for the errant brethren,
nine for the dispersed monks,
ten for the seamen,
eleven for the squabblers,
twelve for the penitent,
thirteen for the wayfarers.
To the Pope as to the king
they all drink without restraint.
the mistress drinks, the master drinks
the soldier drinks, the priest drinks,
the man drinks, the woman drinks,
the servant drinks with the maid,
the swift man drinks, the lazy man drinks,
the settled man drinks, the wanderer drinks,
the stupid man drinks, the wise man drinks,
The poor man drinks, the sick man drinks,
the exile drinks, and the stranger,
the boy drinks, the old man drinks,
the bishop drinks, and the deacon,
the sister drinks, the brother drinks,
the old lady drinks, the mother drinks,
this man drinks, that man drinks,
a hundred drink, a thousand drink.
Six hundred pennies would hardly
if everyone drinks
immoderately and immeasurably.
However much they cheerfully drink
we are the ones whom everyone scolds,
and thus we are destitute.
May those who slander us be cursed,
and may their names not be written in the book of the righteous.


You can enjoy the Latin poem and this English version together at the You Tube link.




Sources

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



Naughty Or Nice? Krampas Knows


I suppose kids still hear about receiving a lump of coal in their Christmas stocking as payment for a year of bad behavior. So much for gifts as a sign of grace at Christmastide. On the other hand, given the state of behavior of too many children these days perhaps we are a bit overdue on restoring some form of payment - punishment if you will - for the erosion of good conduct.

We don't have to create something new for this plan. Some years ago I stumbled on an Old World solution that's been around for centuries in many central and eastern European cultures. To boot, for the last thousand years or so he has been associated with the most benevolent and generous of figures, Sinterklaas or as we know him today Saint Nicholas or Santa. So who is this Bad Santa, the other half of the holiday team? His name is Krampus. Unfortunately, he is extreme to the point of terrifying for children. In fact, an unexpected visit from this visage in the dead of night would insure obedience from most rational adults.


St. Nicholas and Krampas   Arnold Nechansky, Wiener Werkstatte, 1912

I first discovered Krampus through post cards on the Internet. When I began looking at cards from central Europe, especially those printed by the magnificent Wiener Werkstatte in the early decades of the 20th century, I noticed that two figures often appeared on the Christmas cards depicting a visit to a welcoming family. One was a traditional Saint Nicholas character dressed in ornate flowing robes and carrying a bag of gifts. The other was a shabbily dressed rather grotesque if not devil-like creature carrying a bundle of switches and a bag. The intention of the visit was to leave a nice gift for the good children or a lump of coal for the "behaviorally challenged." While good children enjoyed their presents, moderately bad boys and girls could expect a swat or two from the switches. The worst cases went into the bag and carried off to who know where or what.




Please, I'm not advocating whipping, kidnapping, and cooking as a corrective for youth beyond the bounds of civilized coexistence. Rather, I'd just like a little balance for all the feet jabbed into my Economy Class back between Atlanta and anywhere, the screaming tantrums endured at finer restaurants, and the toxic aerosol clouds projected my way by sneezing toddlers. Yes, it is time to modernize the deliveryman and bring on the coal acknowledging of course that the traditional Krampus needs plenty of modification to work as a disciplinarian in the 21st century!




Tonight, the eve of Saint Nicholas Day, is the Night of the Krampus. Although this night for European adults has taken on an almost Halloween-like character often fueled by alcohol, it remains a fascinating ancient story of the dual nature of our existence. Those who understand that good does not stand without evil, just as there are no mountains without valleys, can learn more about the Krampus tradition here.





Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
https://www.theviennasecession.com/a-history/

Text:





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