I COME HAT IN HAND, and dripping with sincerity (I never thought I'd have the temerity) to dash off a column composed of names that almost rhyme. "It's already been done," rings in the back of my mind. ... If imitation is flattery, then I'll pour it on thick. Even if bad to verse, this is no easy trick. I console myself in a hapless sort of way: Perhaps few might be reading on this glorious day (I might not get away unpunished, still I jump into the fray). ...
Merry Christmas to the Newsoms -- Gavin & Kimberly, The City's First Twosomes ... and Gavin's sister, Hil, and their dad, Bill -- the proudest of jurists, and the latest attraction for the Balboa's tourists;
And all of the Guilfoyles and all of the Callans ... for Pat Kelley ... Joe Peck ... Marty Lindstrom & Marty Balin;
For Al Guthertz the Great ... on-the-Mark's Michelle Heston ... for Tom Wolfe at the Fairmont ... Marsha Monro at the Westin (St. Francis, of course) ... to the stentorian Norm Howard and the sound Brian Morse;
I raise a cup of cheer for Chanticleer ... and the Gay Men's Chorus ... and dear Carole Vernier (which is really pronounced "VAIR-knee-ay" so, from now on, let's keep it that way) ... Yma Sumac ... Lori Glumac -- she's such a Boulevardier;
Here's to Jeanne Baccarat and her crystalline wit ... sociable Stu Smith ... the sharp-tongued Gracie Slick ... Addison DeWitt;
Warren the Hink ... Donat (the Hank) ... friendly John Finck ... and Farley's Phil Frank;
A salute, mano-a-mano, for Ferragamo's Luigi Votano ... Brian Boitano ... David Brancaccio and Tony Soprano. ...
I offer a nip to Eugene, Dr. Hip ... for Chet Helms and Ed Guelld, a bite of my knish -- and a Hanukkah wish to Country Joe & the Fish;
Say, Rod McKuen, let's hear some Palestrina for Chuck Ashman ...
Al Hart ... the folks at the Big 4 ... and Carly Fiorina;
For Vernon Alley and Boutros Boutros Ghali -- by gosh, by gum, by golly -- Here come Sal & Mary Salma ... with Strange de Jim ... and Salvador Dali;
A farewell to Willie Brown, a mayor who's most outgoing ... Say, Dr. Harvey Caplan, your Freudian slip is showing;
To Mike & Wesla ... savvy Michele Caprario ... Tom Walton ... Dawne the Dazzler ... and Bill Lanese, one smooth impresario;
A glass of sauterne (or maybe a Tang) for good Dave O'Byrne & Mrs. Florence Fang. ... the Apostles Bellingham (Paul, James, and John) ... Father William Myers ... and Meagan Levitan;
Better make it tall for the stalwart Maggie McCall ... and Lee, Keeper of the House ... and one for Craig Newmark, mighty man with a mouse;
A cidre bouch? for Jean-Claude Persais ... Laurent Manrique ... Gary Danko ... Gerald Hirigoyen & Jean-Pierre Dubray;
A day with Melissa Perello could make even the Wiebe Twins mellow -- the Fleur's Chantal & Hubert Keller -- make for the most happy feller ... and let's not forget Nob Hill's darling doyenne, Bella;
No nabob's more natty than our own Stanlee Gatti ... and no party glows without Pamela Rose;
So let's make merry with Guy & Rose Ferri ... Joan and Michael McCourt ... the generous Fred & Terry ... and who gives more than Michael Tucker & Jill Eickenberry? Or Maurice Kanbar? Or Chuck & Donna Huggins? Or, one of a kind, Original Joe's Marie Duggan?
Hoist a coffee ice cream cone at the North Beach Cold Mine, and toast the ding-dong daddies on the Cal Street cable car line. Here's to Le Beau ... La Presse ... Le Central ... and La Folie, which is terribly nice;
May the Spirit of San Francisco always be free -- or come down in price;
For all of the names of those I hold dear, I really mean it: I wish you were here.
So, Edward the Moose, pour a little Chartreuse, for lovely Lisa Baney, my favorite chanteuse;
And here's to Herb Caen, who started this paean back when, I mean this, too, Herb: I won't do it again.
Happy Christmas and Best Wishes,
Bellingham, Bruce
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Sunday, December 21, 2003
LIVE at Grace Cathedral: The Christmas Curmudgeon
Recorded Live: At Grace Cathedral, San Francisco
Sunday, December 21, 2003, 9:30 am PST
Guest : Bruce Bellingham San Francisco Examiner columnist
Moderated by : The Very Rev. Alan Jones
Listen now in RealAudio need help?
About the Program:
Has the spirit of Christmas been lost to our consumeristic culture? Only days before Christmas, the conversation at The Forum will focus on giving the audience the unique gift of humor and wonderful tales of Christmas. Popular San Francisco Examiner columnist Bruce Bellingham and Alan Jones will talk candidly about tradition, faith, family and culture in relation to the holiday season and why it's not about the presents, but the presence of spirit.
Sunday, December 21, 2003, 9:30 am PST
Guest : Bruce Bellingham San Francisco Examiner columnist
Moderated by : The Very Rev. Alan Jones
Listen now in RealAudio need help?
About the Program:
Has the spirit of Christmas been lost to our consumeristic culture? Only days before Christmas, the conversation at The Forum will focus on giving the audience the unique gift of humor and wonderful tales of Christmas. Popular San Francisco Examiner columnist Bruce Bellingham and Alan Jones will talk candidly about tradition, faith, family and culture in relation to the holiday season and why it's not about the presents, but the presence of spirit.
Monday, August 25, 2003
Mars over Maui
MAUI, Hawaii, Aug. 25 -- The intense, flickering brilliance of Mars, the Red Planet, that careens so closely by the Earth this week makes Maui, the Hawaiian Island of Valleys, even more mystical than it usually is. "Maui is amazingly spiritual," says Rod McKuen, the poet/ troubadour of the San Francisco '60s. Rod is here to perform in a musical called "Soulmates," written by the popular local composer and performer, Patricia Watson. I came here to see the show, which played this weekend at the Maui Arts & Cultural Center. ... "I went up to the mountains here for a few days to do a little writing on my book," Rod explains. "The words were just pouring out of me. There is something about this place that reaches directly to the soul." He reminds me of the Irish singer who would gather his poetic notions by walking barefoot on the ancient ground of the Old Sod. He'd feel the Muse come up through his toes. ...
It's clear to understand why Maui evokes transcendental dreams. With the magnificent clouds wrapped low around the mountains, the heavens seem to come down to visit the mortals. ... There are churches everywhere in Maui. This has everything to do with Hawaii's missionary past. "I even saw a large group of Mennonites at McDonald's," McKuen remarks, clearly amused. Ah, yes. So many Mennonites, so little time. And time moves slowly on an island so far from any main land mass. History holds fast. "Maui has a whole lot of gods that were here long before the Christians," says 16-year-old Lisa Garcia, born in Texas and raised on Maui. Lisa likes to talk about the sites where Island warriors battled and died. "All these places are sacred -- and they are haunted." Jasmine Lowcher, a striking, raven-haired 18-year-old actress who appeared in "Soulmates," also knows the ghosts of Maui. "I have heard the Night Marchers," she says, with a little pride. "Their footsteps thunder down the trail at certain nights. They are the warriors who were slaughtered in the battle in Iao (rhymes with "meow") Valley a long, long time ago." ... Black Beach is where a princess, who betrayed her king for the love of another warrior, was put to death for her faithlessness. "You can sometimes see her blood on the wall of the cave where she died," says Lisa. "We swim there to honor her." Even Maui has its own Tristan and Isolde legend. ...
Lisa and her mom, Mona Garcia, attended the performance of "Soulmates." They applauded its zeal for the Roman Catholic Church. Indeed, McKuen appeared on stage briefly, as a priest. He sang one song, a "homily," Rod says. Yes, he wrote it last week in the mountains. It stopped the show. It's called "September Comes Around (All Too Soon)." It's an instant McKuen classic. The show is performed entirely in song -- with few spoken words -- in a bouncy pop style. Sort of "Godspell" meets "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg." Broadway star Mary Jo Catlett was a big hit. It was directed by David Galligan, known to S.F. audiences for his work on the Richmond Ermet AIDS Foundation benefit galas. "Soulmates" was a big event on Maui. McKuen chuckled about how his name appeared on the marquee on the highway above Steely Dan, who are appearing at the Maui Arts & Cultural Center on Oct. 10. ...
Rod McKuen's name will inextricably be linked to San Francisco, though he's lived in Beverly Hills since 1969. "I saw Rod read his poems in Sausalito," says Kris Hinsvark, who stood at the stage door after "Soulmates" with her husband, Richard. "That was in 1965 and I still recall it well." Diane Kopperman traveled from Las Vegas to see McKuen. "I tell people I am a stalker," Diane deadpans. "Then they just get quiet." His worldwide fans embrace a religious fervor of their own. ... The Maui Weekly's Joseph W. Bean is fron San Francisco. "I kept coming back to Maui. I finally decided it was cheaper to move over here." ...
Several people murmured to me, "You'll be back here, too." No one here seems to talk about where you're going. They only ask when you are coming back. Maybe that's why "Aloha" means neither "Hello" nor "Goodbye." Coming back? To this beautifully dissolute island bordello in the middle of the Pacific? I wonder. I was skeptical about Maui's magnetism. But, after a day or two, I feel a little sweet forgetfulness about the madding world seeping in slightly. That's easy to do while typing on a Mac in the Tradewinds Poolside Cafe at the Maui Coast Hotel, the languid music drifting over me in the perfumed breezy afternoon. "We'll be together again," the pedal steel guitar seductively promises, "here in this paradise." But I need a purpose, even in this paradise. So it's time to collect Rod McKuen and our young handler, the bright and capable Ben McMillan. We're off to Kahalui to look at ukes. ... I have to squeeze in another marveling look at Mars and the constellations that hold court across the Maui sky. "Too many stars to squander," Rod gently warns in his new song, which was penned on spindrift pages in the still night on Maui soil. And then there is the topic of when I might be coming back -- back to Maui, that is. ... Aloha. ...
It's clear to understand why Maui evokes transcendental dreams. With the magnificent clouds wrapped low around the mountains, the heavens seem to come down to visit the mortals. ... There are churches everywhere in Maui. This has everything to do with Hawaii's missionary past. "I even saw a large group of Mennonites at McDonald's," McKuen remarks, clearly amused. Ah, yes. So many Mennonites, so little time. And time moves slowly on an island so far from any main land mass. History holds fast. "Maui has a whole lot of gods that were here long before the Christians," says 16-year-old Lisa Garcia, born in Texas and raised on Maui. Lisa likes to talk about the sites where Island warriors battled and died. "All these places are sacred -- and they are haunted." Jasmine Lowcher, a striking, raven-haired 18-year-old actress who appeared in "Soulmates," also knows the ghosts of Maui. "I have heard the Night Marchers," she says, with a little pride. "Their footsteps thunder down the trail at certain nights. They are the warriors who were slaughtered in the battle in Iao (rhymes with "meow") Valley a long, long time ago." ... Black Beach is where a princess, who betrayed her king for the love of another warrior, was put to death for her faithlessness. "You can sometimes see her blood on the wall of the cave where she died," says Lisa. "We swim there to honor her." Even Maui has its own Tristan and Isolde legend. ...
Lisa and her mom, Mona Garcia, attended the performance of "Soulmates." They applauded its zeal for the Roman Catholic Church. Indeed, McKuen appeared on stage briefly, as a priest. He sang one song, a "homily," Rod says. Yes, he wrote it last week in the mountains. It stopped the show. It's called "September Comes Around (All Too Soon)." It's an instant McKuen classic. The show is performed entirely in song -- with few spoken words -- in a bouncy pop style. Sort of "Godspell" meets "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg." Broadway star Mary Jo Catlett was a big hit. It was directed by David Galligan, known to S.F. audiences for his work on the Richmond Ermet AIDS Foundation benefit galas. "Soulmates" was a big event on Maui. McKuen chuckled about how his name appeared on the marquee on the highway above Steely Dan, who are appearing at the Maui Arts & Cultural Center on Oct. 10. ...
Rod McKuen's name will inextricably be linked to San Francisco, though he's lived in Beverly Hills since 1969. "I saw Rod read his poems in Sausalito," says Kris Hinsvark, who stood at the stage door after "Soulmates" with her husband, Richard. "That was in 1965 and I still recall it well." Diane Kopperman traveled from Las Vegas to see McKuen. "I tell people I am a stalker," Diane deadpans. "Then they just get quiet." His worldwide fans embrace a religious fervor of their own. ... The Maui Weekly's Joseph W. Bean is fron San Francisco. "I kept coming back to Maui. I finally decided it was cheaper to move over here." ...
Several people murmured to me, "You'll be back here, too." No one here seems to talk about where you're going. They only ask when you are coming back. Maybe that's why "Aloha" means neither "Hello" nor "Goodbye." Coming back? To this beautifully dissolute island bordello in the middle of the Pacific? I wonder. I was skeptical about Maui's magnetism. But, after a day or two, I feel a little sweet forgetfulness about the madding world seeping in slightly. That's easy to do while typing on a Mac in the Tradewinds Poolside Cafe at the Maui Coast Hotel, the languid music drifting over me in the perfumed breezy afternoon. "We'll be together again," the pedal steel guitar seductively promises, "here in this paradise." But I need a purpose, even in this paradise. So it's time to collect Rod McKuen and our young handler, the bright and capable Ben McMillan. We're off to Kahalui to look at ukes. ... I have to squeeze in another marveling look at Mars and the constellations that hold court across the Maui sky. "Too many stars to squander," Rod gently warns in his new song, which was penned on spindrift pages in the still night on Maui soil. And then there is the topic of when I might be coming back -- back to Maui, that is. ... Aloha. ...
Monday, August 11, 2003
A Glittering City
August 11, 2003, The Examiner
RITA MORENO could not conceal her pride Thursday night at the Eleonore Austerer Gallery opening for Fernanda Fisher's jewelry design show. Fernanda is Rita's daughter. ... Mayor Willie Brown arrived at the Sutter St. gallery, proclaiming it "Fernanda Fisher Day" in San Francisco. ... Assemblyman Mark Leno offered encouraging words for the artist. Channel 7's Jessica Aguirre looked at home among beautiful things. Herv? Ernest, of the S.F. Conservation Corps, was earnestly charmed. Lovely young people wandered about wearing a few of Fernanda's dazzling pieces. Fernanda likes to combine textures and colors, such as, semi-precious stones with silver and antique beads ... "This is such a great night," said gallery owner Wendell Simmons. "We even made a few sales." That's a swell endorsement these days. ... "Swell -- that's a great word," sighed Rita. "That's the word that comes to mind when I look at my daughter." ...
Sergio & Marcia Giusti hosted a dinner for Fernanda and her husband, Daniel Fisher, after the show at the Giusti's friendly Firenze by Night restaurant on Stockton in North Beach. ... Rita Moreno ... her husband, the very funny Dr. Lenny Gordon ... KGO's Brian Copeland and his wife, Suzie. ... Wendell Simmons and his wife, Deborah. ... Judy's restaurant owner Charles Bain ... and the virtuous virtuoso of PR, Stefano Cassolato, were there. ... Rita's gig on HBO's "Oz" has ended but she remains very busy and supremely vivacious. I'm still amazed that she danced with Gene Kelly in "Singin in the Rain." ... "I had the greatest time at the opening of the new Napa Valley Opera House," she said. "Lenny and I are so glad we moved from L.A. to the Bay Area." They live in the Berkeley Hills. ... Rita opens her new show at The Plush Room, Oct. 21 through Nov. 15. "I have recently turned down Feinstein's and the Algonquin in New York. But I love the Plush Room. It's the best cabaret room in America." ... And she should know: She made "America" famous. ...
That was U.S. Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy having dinner at Florio on Fillmore Friday night. He kept company with a couple of U.S. Marshals. Justice Kennedy was in town for the convention of the American Bar Association. ... At the Matrix/Fillmore Thursday, 150 supporters of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation held a kick-off party for the 13th annual "Race for the Cure" on Sept. 7. ... The party was thrown by Julie Down ... Sari Swig ... M.K. Fippinger ... Gavin and Kimberly Newsom ... Michael Macdonald ... Maria Quiros ... Andrea Schnitzer ... the recently married and still all-a-blush Lori Puccinneli. ... Also in attendance, the ever-alert writer, Michele Caprario. ... Nancy Brinker, former U.S. Ambassador to Hungary, was there with Richard Goldman. The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is named for Nancy's sister. ...
It is startling to walk down Polk Street near California and notice how the block has changed -- now that the marquee at the old Royal Theater is suddenly gone. As a matter of fact, the venerable house itself has been razed. Behind a plywood facade lies a pit that was once a repository for millions of matinee memories. ... 30 years ago, my brother, Paul, managed the Royal. In a unlikely scenario from a dime store novel turned into a treacly movie, Paul married Bonnie, the girl behind the candy counter. ... Bernardo Bertolucci's "Last Tango In Paris," played there for months in 1972. The bridge-and-tunnel crowd flocked to the Royal, in leisure suits and hip huggers. That's because "Last Tango ..." was the first big budget movie, "an art film," that featured fairly graphic sex scenes. It drew mainstream audiences from the 'burbs who didn't have to skulk to tawdry porn houses to take a peek at smut. This was acceptable smut. This was filmed in Paris. This was Art. ...
In those days, Polk Street or "Polkstrasse" had preceded the Castro District as a center of gay life. "Last Tango ..." was a cause celebre on the street for its notorious scene with Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider and a stick of butter. ... Across the street from the Royal was the Gramophone record shop -- now a video store. Locals would stop and chuckle at the suggestive window display that remained there for weeks: copies of the great Gato Barbieri "Last Tango ..." soundtrack amid empty boxes of Challenge butter. ...If you want to say "Only in San Francisco," now is the time to say it.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay." His e-mail is bruce@brucebellingham.com
RITA MORENO could not conceal her pride Thursday night at the Eleonore Austerer Gallery opening for Fernanda Fisher's jewelry design show. Fernanda is Rita's daughter. ... Mayor Willie Brown arrived at the Sutter St. gallery, proclaiming it "Fernanda Fisher Day" in San Francisco. ... Assemblyman Mark Leno offered encouraging words for the artist. Channel 7's Jessica Aguirre looked at home among beautiful things. Herv? Ernest, of the S.F. Conservation Corps, was earnestly charmed. Lovely young people wandered about wearing a few of Fernanda's dazzling pieces. Fernanda likes to combine textures and colors, such as, semi-precious stones with silver and antique beads ... "This is such a great night," said gallery owner Wendell Simmons. "We even made a few sales." That's a swell endorsement these days. ... "Swell -- that's a great word," sighed Rita. "That's the word that comes to mind when I look at my daughter." ...
Sergio & Marcia Giusti hosted a dinner for Fernanda and her husband, Daniel Fisher, after the show at the Giusti's friendly Firenze by Night restaurant on Stockton in North Beach. ... Rita Moreno ... her husband, the very funny Dr. Lenny Gordon ... KGO's Brian Copeland and his wife, Suzie. ... Wendell Simmons and his wife, Deborah. ... Judy's restaurant owner Charles Bain ... and the virtuous virtuoso of PR, Stefano Cassolato, were there. ... Rita's gig on HBO's "Oz" has ended but she remains very busy and supremely vivacious. I'm still amazed that she danced with Gene Kelly in "Singin in the Rain." ... "I had the greatest time at the opening of the new Napa Valley Opera House," she said. "Lenny and I are so glad we moved from L.A. to the Bay Area." They live in the Berkeley Hills. ... Rita opens her new show at The Plush Room, Oct. 21 through Nov. 15. "I have recently turned down Feinstein's and the Algonquin in New York. But I love the Plush Room. It's the best cabaret room in America." ... And she should know: She made "America" famous. ...
That was U.S. Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy having dinner at Florio on Fillmore Friday night. He kept company with a couple of U.S. Marshals. Justice Kennedy was in town for the convention of the American Bar Association. ... At the Matrix/Fillmore Thursday, 150 supporters of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation held a kick-off party for the 13th annual "Race for the Cure" on Sept. 7. ... The party was thrown by Julie Down ... Sari Swig ... M.K. Fippinger ... Gavin and Kimberly Newsom ... Michael Macdonald ... Maria Quiros ... Andrea Schnitzer ... the recently married and still all-a-blush Lori Puccinneli. ... Also in attendance, the ever-alert writer, Michele Caprario. ... Nancy Brinker, former U.S. Ambassador to Hungary, was there with Richard Goldman. The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is named for Nancy's sister. ...
It is startling to walk down Polk Street near California and notice how the block has changed -- now that the marquee at the old Royal Theater is suddenly gone. As a matter of fact, the venerable house itself has been razed. Behind a plywood facade lies a pit that was once a repository for millions of matinee memories. ... 30 years ago, my brother, Paul, managed the Royal. In a unlikely scenario from a dime store novel turned into a treacly movie, Paul married Bonnie, the girl behind the candy counter. ... Bernardo Bertolucci's "Last Tango In Paris," played there for months in 1972. The bridge-and-tunnel crowd flocked to the Royal, in leisure suits and hip huggers. That's because "Last Tango ..." was the first big budget movie, "an art film," that featured fairly graphic sex scenes. It drew mainstream audiences from the 'burbs who didn't have to skulk to tawdry porn houses to take a peek at smut. This was acceptable smut. This was filmed in Paris. This was Art. ...
In those days, Polk Street or "Polkstrasse" had preceded the Castro District as a center of gay life. "Last Tango ..." was a cause celebre on the street for its notorious scene with Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider and a stick of butter. ... Across the street from the Royal was the Gramophone record shop -- now a video store. Locals would stop and chuckle at the suggestive window display that remained there for weeks: copies of the great Gato Barbieri "Last Tango ..." soundtrack amid empty boxes of Challenge butter. ...If you want to say "Only in San Francisco," now is the time to say it.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay." His e-mail is bruce@brucebellingham.com
Friday, June 13, 2003
Good, bad & ridiculous
That was Mayor Willie Brown Thursday morning at Broadway & Columbus cutting up with the organizers of this weekend's North Beach Festival. The event's host, Precious Cheese (not a drag queen -- a company), commissioned a bust of Da Mayor, made from a 40-pound block of cheddar. As commuters slowed at the intersection, Willie's yellow formaggio face, topped with a sulfur-colored fedora, was unveiled to a TV audience on Channel 2. It brightened an otherwise chilly, late spring day. ... The bust was created by Sarah Nep, one of only four cheese sculptors in the U.S. "This work takes me all over the country," says the tall, blonde lass from Lafayette. "I am grateful to be of service to American farmers." The gigs are hard to come by these days. It's a kitsch-as-kitsch-can sort of life. ...
All this cheesy fun was occurring in front of Alfred Schilling's restaurant on Columbus & Broadway. Chef Alfred came out to greet the Mayor and inform him the restaurant will be going out of business today, putting 30 more people in S.F. out of work. "I've been paying $15,000 a month in rent," says chef Schilling, who has been a renowned S.F. chocolatier. He also ran the kitchens at Trader Vic's and Maxwell's Plum. "The landlord would not budge on this -- I don't think he cares if it stays vacant for the next 10 years," Alfred said. "I might sell cars now." Mayor Brown assured him, "We'll find you another place." Consoling, yes, but hardly likely to happen these days. ... This block of Broadway is now devoid of dining spots. The Garden of Eden stands alone. That's a strip club. Those pasties are not edible. ...
There was a full-blown street party in Half Moon Bay this week to raise money to rebuild the 100-year-old Cunha Country Store, which was destroyed by fire May 21. The calamity has stunned the town. Bob Sarlatte hosted the benefit. It included -- get this -- The Tubes, with Fee Waybill. They performed "White Punks On Dope." and their big hit from the '80s, "She's A Beauty." Sizzling Sarlatte dazzled the crowd with a version of Elvis' "Burning Love." ... Singles looking for burning love and other plentiful wastes of time might want to check out the Urban Diversion Open House at 1329 Columbus Ave., Sunday from 8 to 10 p.m. One of the silly things the zany, fun-seeking city slickers do is put on the Urban Iditarod. Unlike the Alaskan dog race, it's with people sniffing about the streets of S.F., wearing dog masks. ...
Craigslist is the hallmark of our culture, particularly for singles. For that, it embraces odd elements of our culture, such as the woman looking to date "a man who looks like Scott Peterson -- you know, kinda cute." I saw it. I wouldn't have believed it. ... The Examiner's Adriel Hampton noticed panhandling has emerged on CL. One fellow in Pacific Heights is asking donations be mailed to him because "none of my roommates have work either." Next, we'll see Scott Peterson asking for money for legal expenses. ... My favorite online story of the week is about the married U.S. Army colonel in Afghanistan who got engaged to 50 women by e-mail. "He was more romantic than Shakespeare, more romantic than even W.B. Yeats," sighed a saddened 43-year-old N.Y. woman who'd been wronged by Colonel Casanova. "He'd write things such as 'Oh, baby, I want to tell you how much I miss you' and 'I can't wait to get home to you.'" ... Which line is Shakespeare and which is Yeats is unclear. ...
Yeats and other writers, specifically Joyce, will be extolled at the Celebration of Bloomsday on Monday at O'Reilly's Irish Pub & Restaurant, 622 Green St. at 8 p.m. The day marks the 24 hours in which Joyce's "Ulysses" takes place. ... Celtic greats performing include Gránia Flanagan ... RenÈe Gibbons ... Oonagah Kavanagh ... and Esther Mulligan. ...
David Brinkley died on Wednesday at 82. He never suffered fools and he detested the dumbing-down of broadcast news. Years ago, when writing a radio documentary for KCBS, I called Brinkley at ABC out of the blue. He came on the phone with that famous clipped style of speaking. "Yes," he said impatiently. "What/do/you/want?" ... "Mr. Brinkley, I bet I can tell you what you were doing exactly 40 years ago tomorrow." ... "Oh?/Why/don't/you/tell/me?" he snapped. ... "You were a 22-year-old desk assistant at WRC Radio in Washington when you saw the Flash on the wire that read, 'President Roosevelt Dead in Warm Springs, Ga.' You ran to the booth so the announcer could break in with the news." ... Brinkley said, "Just/a/minute ... (pause) ... Yes/You're/right/What/can/I/do/for/you?" ... And he relaxed and chatted with me for a half hour. I remembered the WRC story from William Manchester's "Glory and the Dream." I wasn't there in 1945. ... Honest. ... I didn't have to be. Witnesses like Brinkley made history come alive.
All this cheesy fun was occurring in front of Alfred Schilling's restaurant on Columbus & Broadway. Chef Alfred came out to greet the Mayor and inform him the restaurant will be going out of business today, putting 30 more people in S.F. out of work. "I've been paying $15,000 a month in rent," says chef Schilling, who has been a renowned S.F. chocolatier. He also ran the kitchens at Trader Vic's and Maxwell's Plum. "The landlord would not budge on this -- I don't think he cares if it stays vacant for the next 10 years," Alfred said. "I might sell cars now." Mayor Brown assured him, "We'll find you another place." Consoling, yes, but hardly likely to happen these days. ... This block of Broadway is now devoid of dining spots. The Garden of Eden stands alone. That's a strip club. Those pasties are not edible. ...
There was a full-blown street party in Half Moon Bay this week to raise money to rebuild the 100-year-old Cunha Country Store, which was destroyed by fire May 21. The calamity has stunned the town. Bob Sarlatte hosted the benefit. It included -- get this -- The Tubes, with Fee Waybill. They performed "White Punks On Dope." and their big hit from the '80s, "She's A Beauty." Sizzling Sarlatte dazzled the crowd with a version of Elvis' "Burning Love." ... Singles looking for burning love and other plentiful wastes of time might want to check out the Urban Diversion Open House at 1329 Columbus Ave., Sunday from 8 to 10 p.m. One of the silly things the zany, fun-seeking city slickers do is put on the Urban Iditarod. Unlike the Alaskan dog race, it's with people sniffing about the streets of S.F., wearing dog masks. ...
Craigslist is the hallmark of our culture, particularly for singles. For that, it embraces odd elements of our culture, such as the woman looking to date "a man who looks like Scott Peterson -- you know, kinda cute." I saw it. I wouldn't have believed it. ... The Examiner's Adriel Hampton noticed panhandling has emerged on CL. One fellow in Pacific Heights is asking donations be mailed to him because "none of my roommates have work either." Next, we'll see Scott Peterson asking for money for legal expenses. ... My favorite online story of the week is about the married U.S. Army colonel in Afghanistan who got engaged to 50 women by e-mail. "He was more romantic than Shakespeare, more romantic than even W.B. Yeats," sighed a saddened 43-year-old N.Y. woman who'd been wronged by Colonel Casanova. "He'd write things such as 'Oh, baby, I want to tell you how much I miss you' and 'I can't wait to get home to you.'" ... Which line is Shakespeare and which is Yeats is unclear. ...
Yeats and other writers, specifically Joyce, will be extolled at the Celebration of Bloomsday on Monday at O'Reilly's Irish Pub & Restaurant, 622 Green St. at 8 p.m. The day marks the 24 hours in which Joyce's "Ulysses" takes place. ... Celtic greats performing include Gránia Flanagan ... RenÈe Gibbons ... Oonagah Kavanagh ... and Esther Mulligan. ...
David Brinkley died on Wednesday at 82. He never suffered fools and he detested the dumbing-down of broadcast news. Years ago, when writing a radio documentary for KCBS, I called Brinkley at ABC out of the blue. He came on the phone with that famous clipped style of speaking. "Yes," he said impatiently. "What/do/you/want?" ... "Mr. Brinkley, I bet I can tell you what you were doing exactly 40 years ago tomorrow." ... "Oh?/Why/don't/you/tell/me?" he snapped. ... "You were a 22-year-old desk assistant at WRC Radio in Washington when you saw the Flash on the wire that read, 'President Roosevelt Dead in Warm Springs, Ga.' You ran to the booth so the announcer could break in with the news." ... Brinkley said, "Just/a/minute ... (pause) ... Yes/You're/right/What/can/I/do/for/you?" ... And he relaxed and chatted with me for a half hour. I remembered the WRC story from William Manchester's "Glory and the Dream." I wasn't there in 1945. ... Honest. ... I didn't have to be. Witnesses like Brinkley made history come alive.
Monday, June 02, 2003
Bruce Bellingham's Commencement Address
Marina Times, June 2003
As I find myself swept up in this season of graduations, I am all atingle about pomp and circumvention, ivy-covered professors and bewilderingly specious but bittersweet farewells. While basking in this nostalgia for the academic years I never had, it occurs to me that I will likely never be invited to deliver a commencement address. So I will do it now.
Thank you, trustees, even the lesser-trusted trustees; President Schteppenschmutz; Chancellor Chauncey, other officers of the university and campus; my fellow honorees; distinguished faculty, alumni, graduates and their family and -- most importantly -- Uma Thurman, wherever you are.
As I traverse the grassy meadow that carpets this beautiful home to higher knowledge -- a platform for dreams of my youth -- it occurs to me, I have never been here before. Didn't go to college. Not on this grassy knoll. A good thing. I get terrible hay fever. Not only was I not enrolled here, I would never get into the parking lot. Wouldn't even be allowed to cut the lawn. But life is funny. You might want to hold on to that thought. It wasn't through the traditional academic channels did I come to speak to you today. I did not find myself safe in the arms of this lofty institution. Instead, of in loco parentis, I came to be here just by being loco. And your parents must be loco to send you here. Under the patina of pride that your mothers and fathers display today, I can almost hear a plaintive cry from inside them: "When do we get our money back?"
I'd like to remind you about a few things before you take your place in our society.
First, don't leave. Find an excuse for staying. If you do leave, don't worry about finding a job. There aren't any. I know that sounds a little negative, but consider this: You don't want to sacrifice your vibrant years to an unrewarding and mediocre gig. Your parents did that. Why? Because someone told them it was a good idea. Probably their parents. Stay somewhere where you can learn something just for the joy of learning it. Preferably something useless. No practical value whatsoever. See how the useless idea takes root in an insensible world. Watch how it becomes part of you. That is the only way you will own something that can't be taken from you. Cultivate an ability to remain open to new things. Be more concerned about giving things, rather than collecting things. Don't be afraid to be generous.
You must travel. Notice that most of the criticisms that Americans have about foreigners come from people who haven't gone anywhere. Don't listen to them. Find out for yourself. If you can't travel for some ridiculous reason, then go to the movies. A lot of movies. Especially foreign movies. Read movie reviews but don't take them seriously. Don't follow someone else's perceptions. Create your own perceptions. Just read the reviews so you review the critic. What do you go to college for. Oh, that's right. They skip over the thinking part sometimes. Independence is invaluable but avoiding arrogance is essential. Hubris. Good with pita bread, Or self-pita bread. One thing remains true: the gods were right and will remain right whether you did or did not read the classics. It's better to read them. Then you can make inside jokes with a splashy group of people who really think they're important. And they could be. Who knows? Remember: you don't. How could you? You only went to college.
You can tell much about people by the way they treat others. But you could probably find out more by going through their hamper. If you want to be a journalist -- that's what they call a reporter who doesn't drink -- then you might have to go through a few hampers. Better that than studying journalism in graduate school. Study anything else. Study semaphore or macrame or scrimshaw. Then at least you'll know something. Above all, study people. They are the creatures who are going to break your heart -- and make you happy that you have one. That usually happens on different days. Keep in mind the days are different. The most important one is the next one. I have never heard anyone say they were sorry they did not end it all the day before.
Remember that you are a part of history. It is not a subject, an abstraction. It is a way to mark human experience. We each mark our own. You have terrific technology. Use its speed to get to the right things sooner. That way, you'll know how wrong you were all the faster. Wrong is not bad. What's bad is not caring or neglecting to care to rectify the wrongs. You are in an amazing place in your personal histories. You have a little more time to fix things -- the things that I and my generation have left in pieces. Always keep music in your life. Only villains recoil from its sound. You might want to keep some Kaopectate handy as well.
You have every reason to feel very good today. There are people in your life who cared deeply enough to bring you along to this moment. Someone will buy you lunch. You can thank them by showing that sort of compassion and that sort of decency to others. Know it's not selfish to forgive yourself. It is also a very healthy thing to ask for help. The faster you tell the truth about anything, the better. It gives you protection. Conventional wisdom is a silly expression. When you believe in something, trust that feeling. Don't hold back. And always give yourself a little credit. Look at yourselves. You made it. It's Graduation Day. It's an odd occasion: most of us feel younger today because of you. Who knew? You don't. How could you? You only went to college. One more thing, please. Go have fun.
As I find myself swept up in this season of graduations, I am all atingle about pomp and circumvention, ivy-covered professors and bewilderingly specious but bittersweet farewells. While basking in this nostalgia for the academic years I never had, it occurs to me that I will likely never be invited to deliver a commencement address. So I will do it now.
Thank you, trustees, even the lesser-trusted trustees; President Schteppenschmutz; Chancellor Chauncey, other officers of the university and campus; my fellow honorees; distinguished faculty, alumni, graduates and their family and -- most importantly -- Uma Thurman, wherever you are.
As I traverse the grassy meadow that carpets this beautiful home to higher knowledge -- a platform for dreams of my youth -- it occurs to me, I have never been here before. Didn't go to college. Not on this grassy knoll. A good thing. I get terrible hay fever. Not only was I not enrolled here, I would never get into the parking lot. Wouldn't even be allowed to cut the lawn. But life is funny. You might want to hold on to that thought. It wasn't through the traditional academic channels did I come to speak to you today. I did not find myself safe in the arms of this lofty institution. Instead, of in loco parentis, I came to be here just by being loco. And your parents must be loco to send you here. Under the patina of pride that your mothers and fathers display today, I can almost hear a plaintive cry from inside them: "When do we get our money back?"
I'd like to remind you about a few things before you take your place in our society.
First, don't leave. Find an excuse for staying. If you do leave, don't worry about finding a job. There aren't any. I know that sounds a little negative, but consider this: You don't want to sacrifice your vibrant years to an unrewarding and mediocre gig. Your parents did that. Why? Because someone told them it was a good idea. Probably their parents. Stay somewhere where you can learn something just for the joy of learning it. Preferably something useless. No practical value whatsoever. See how the useless idea takes root in an insensible world. Watch how it becomes part of you. That is the only way you will own something that can't be taken from you. Cultivate an ability to remain open to new things. Be more concerned about giving things, rather than collecting things. Don't be afraid to be generous.
You must travel. Notice that most of the criticisms that Americans have about foreigners come from people who haven't gone anywhere. Don't listen to them. Find out for yourself. If you can't travel for some ridiculous reason, then go to the movies. A lot of movies. Especially foreign movies. Read movie reviews but don't take them seriously. Don't follow someone else's perceptions. Create your own perceptions. Just read the reviews so you review the critic. What do you go to college for. Oh, that's right. They skip over the thinking part sometimes. Independence is invaluable but avoiding arrogance is essential. Hubris. Good with pita bread, Or self-pita bread. One thing remains true: the gods were right and will remain right whether you did or did not read the classics. It's better to read them. Then you can make inside jokes with a splashy group of people who really think they're important. And they could be. Who knows? Remember: you don't. How could you? You only went to college.
You can tell much about people by the way they treat others. But you could probably find out more by going through their hamper. If you want to be a journalist -- that's what they call a reporter who doesn't drink -- then you might have to go through a few hampers. Better that than studying journalism in graduate school. Study anything else. Study semaphore or macrame or scrimshaw. Then at least you'll know something. Above all, study people. They are the creatures who are going to break your heart -- and make you happy that you have one. That usually happens on different days. Keep in mind the days are different. The most important one is the next one. I have never heard anyone say they were sorry they did not end it all the day before.
Remember that you are a part of history. It is not a subject, an abstraction. It is a way to mark human experience. We each mark our own. You have terrific technology. Use its speed to get to the right things sooner. That way, you'll know how wrong you were all the faster. Wrong is not bad. What's bad is not caring or neglecting to care to rectify the wrongs. You are in an amazing place in your personal histories. You have a little more time to fix things -- the things that I and my generation have left in pieces. Always keep music in your life. Only villains recoil from its sound. You might want to keep some Kaopectate handy as well.
You have every reason to feel very good today. There are people in your life who cared deeply enough to bring you along to this moment. Someone will buy you lunch. You can thank them by showing that sort of compassion and that sort of decency to others. Know it's not selfish to forgive yourself. It is also a very healthy thing to ask for help. The faster you tell the truth about anything, the better. It gives you protection. Conventional wisdom is a silly expression. When you believe in something, trust that feeling. Don't hold back. And always give yourself a little credit. Look at yourselves. You made it. It's Graduation Day. It's an odd occasion: most of us feel younger today because of you. Who knew? You don't. How could you? You only went to college. One more thing, please. Go have fun.
Baby's in black
My friend said he'd meet me here at Civic Center," murmured a bewildered Ginny Grant at the Black & White Ball Saturday night. "He said he'd be dressed in black." That was a cruel joke. Ginny was lost on a restless black ocean of formal wear with plenty of white caps amid the waves. It was a successful night for the S.F. Symphony's world-famous gala which occurs every two years. 11,000 people, dressed to the nines, sauntered from concert stage to buffet table to bar and back again. The Civic Center area was sealed off to car traffic for the night. Wouldn't it be nice to keep it that way all the time? ... If people are either charming or tedious, as Oscar Wilde said, then the charming were out in full force. ...
"It is a lot less crowded than the last time, said Mike Antonini, the dentist from the GOP. "It was unpleasantly jammed two years ago." But it was a different world two years ago. 9/11 was yet to happen and there was still some leftover money from dot com that hadn't quite done gone. There were jobs, too. ... But Saturday there was plenty of good food, plenty of strong drink, which was consumed prodigiously. Of course, there was plenty of music. The S.F. Symphony, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas, played at City Hall. After passing through some pretty scrupulous security (quite impressive, according to San Jose police lieutenant Steve Ronco), I heard the Ball chairman Yurie Pascarella, in an eye-catching Oscar de la Renta B&W gown, tell her husband, Carl Pascarella, CEO of Visa Int'l., "I want to see the Emotions." I followed. Her instincts for music are good. The Emotions, a sister act, were big R&B stars in the 70s. Wanda, Sheila and Jeanette Hutchinson, with a tight backup band, tore up Davies. There are seats in Symphony Hall but who needs them for dancing? ...
John G.Conaghan says he danced with his wife at the B&W for the first time since their wedding. No, they are not newlyweds. "It is a night for amplitude and pulchritude," mused John. Not for politics or gloom or worry. That's for later. In a sea of cleavage and natty gents, it was all about food, drink, music and sex. In short, everything that is good. A young lady asked if I were rich. I have credit with my friends and I am bursting with sanguinity, I told her. She moved away. No, it was not a night to meet the next Mrs. Bellingham. More likely the ex-Mrs. Bellingham. But I'll leave it at that. ...
Not all wore black and white to the Black & White. Letitia Todd drew attention with her rose-red gown. "It's magenta," she said firmly. "Men never know what that is." Sure. It's the color we turn when we are told we are stupid. The Peninsula's Yanting Zhang was a knockout in a splendid, satin, peacock-blue gown. Was the renowned physician/acupuncturist needling convention? "No," said the doc, "I wanted to look beautiful." She did. ... Linda Carey Kunnath complained she had trouble finding long, elegant gloves, which she finally ordered online from Florida. Jan Wahl recalled how Rita Hayworth caused a on-screen sensation in "Gilda" just by the lascivious way she removed her gloves. Always a movie reference with Jan. ... Jia Jung, the arts editor at the Daily Cal, was also a sensation in her black bodice and homemade white bloomers. ...
At the War Memorial, the legendary Buck Owens, a little testy and a little toasted, delighted his fans with "A Tiger by the Tail" and other old tunes. You have to be a wee bit drunk to play country music. You have to be very drunk to appreciate it. Buck's vocalist, Kim McAbee, said later, "Buck is always picky about the sound. I'm just glad we can stay at a hotel in San Francisco tonight. We usually get on the Lear jet and head right back to Bakersfield." ... Deborah Harry and the Jazz Messengers (a tribute to Art Blakey) might have been a little too stylized for the party crowd. No Blondie tunes. Just melancholic, quirky, quasi-beatnik verses on hipster riffs. Well-done but the crowd was more in the mood for Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, who have produced a polished, nostalgia punk band. They were coifed, clean and ready for Orlando. All those punk tunes sound so, well, nice. ... What will rap nostalgia sound like in 20 years? "Gee, I haven't heard the M-F word in years! How quaint. I wish the kids would use nice dirty words like we used to." ... On a flatbed truck, twisting the night away with Chubby Checker were Nancy Bechtle, Yurie Pascarella and Nancy Pelosi, who got to use her skill as House Minority Leader to twist from left to right. ... 500 hula-hoops were tossed to a giddy crowd. ...
"It is amazing how fast the night went," mused Paul James, who owns Fog City Leather on Union St. with his wife, Susanne James. It was soon 2 a.m. The Black & White Ball refugees went looking for cabs. Having tired feet was the biggest complaint. The more chivalrous of the sturdy swains carried their dates, shoes in hand. Some wandered aimlessly into the Tenderloin. But the creatures of the street seemed oblivious. Oblivion is what takes over during these hours before the dawn. For the brave revelers, it was a grand party to keep the tedious at bay -- at least for a little while.
"It is a lot less crowded than the last time, said Mike Antonini, the dentist from the GOP. "It was unpleasantly jammed two years ago." But it was a different world two years ago. 9/11 was yet to happen and there was still some leftover money from dot com that hadn't quite done gone. There were jobs, too. ... But Saturday there was plenty of good food, plenty of strong drink, which was consumed prodigiously. Of course, there was plenty of music. The S.F. Symphony, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas, played at City Hall. After passing through some pretty scrupulous security (quite impressive, according to San Jose police lieutenant Steve Ronco), I heard the Ball chairman Yurie Pascarella, in an eye-catching Oscar de la Renta B&W gown, tell her husband, Carl Pascarella, CEO of Visa Int'l., "I want to see the Emotions." I followed. Her instincts for music are good. The Emotions, a sister act, were big R&B stars in the 70s. Wanda, Sheila and Jeanette Hutchinson, with a tight backup band, tore up Davies. There are seats in Symphony Hall but who needs them for dancing? ...
John G.Conaghan says he danced with his wife at the B&W for the first time since their wedding. No, they are not newlyweds. "It is a night for amplitude and pulchritude," mused John. Not for politics or gloom or worry. That's for later. In a sea of cleavage and natty gents, it was all about food, drink, music and sex. In short, everything that is good. A young lady asked if I were rich. I have credit with my friends and I am bursting with sanguinity, I told her. She moved away. No, it was not a night to meet the next Mrs. Bellingham. More likely the ex-Mrs. Bellingham. But I'll leave it at that. ...
Not all wore black and white to the Black & White. Letitia Todd drew attention with her rose-red gown. "It's magenta," she said firmly. "Men never know what that is." Sure. It's the color we turn when we are told we are stupid. The Peninsula's Yanting Zhang was a knockout in a splendid, satin, peacock-blue gown. Was the renowned physician/acupuncturist needling convention? "No," said the doc, "I wanted to look beautiful." She did. ... Linda Carey Kunnath complained she had trouble finding long, elegant gloves, which she finally ordered online from Florida. Jan Wahl recalled how Rita Hayworth caused a on-screen sensation in "Gilda" just by the lascivious way she removed her gloves. Always a movie reference with Jan. ... Jia Jung, the arts editor at the Daily Cal, was also a sensation in her black bodice and homemade white bloomers. ...
At the War Memorial, the legendary Buck Owens, a little testy and a little toasted, delighted his fans with "A Tiger by the Tail" and other old tunes. You have to be a wee bit drunk to play country music. You have to be very drunk to appreciate it. Buck's vocalist, Kim McAbee, said later, "Buck is always picky about the sound. I'm just glad we can stay at a hotel in San Francisco tonight. We usually get on the Lear jet and head right back to Bakersfield." ... Deborah Harry and the Jazz Messengers (a tribute to Art Blakey) might have been a little too stylized for the party crowd. No Blondie tunes. Just melancholic, quirky, quasi-beatnik verses on hipster riffs. Well-done but the crowd was more in the mood for Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, who have produced a polished, nostalgia punk band. They were coifed, clean and ready for Orlando. All those punk tunes sound so, well, nice. ... What will rap nostalgia sound like in 20 years? "Gee, I haven't heard the M-F word in years! How quaint. I wish the kids would use nice dirty words like we used to." ... On a flatbed truck, twisting the night away with Chubby Checker were Nancy Bechtle, Yurie Pascarella and Nancy Pelosi, who got to use her skill as House Minority Leader to twist from left to right. ... 500 hula-hoops were tossed to a giddy crowd. ...
"It is amazing how fast the night went," mused Paul James, who owns Fog City Leather on Union St. with his wife, Susanne James. It was soon 2 a.m. The Black & White Ball refugees went looking for cabs. Having tired feet was the biggest complaint. The more chivalrous of the sturdy swains carried their dates, shoes in hand. Some wandered aimlessly into the Tenderloin. But the creatures of the street seemed oblivious. Oblivion is what takes over during these hours before the dawn. For the brave revelers, it was a grand party to keep the tedious at bay -- at least for a little while.
Monday, May 26, 2003
A Serious Dad
SF Examiner, May 26, 2003
Memorial Day isn't so much a day of remembrance but an occasion to remind us to remember. It seems strange these days to stop and be quiet for a while -- let alone to be pensive and allow ourselves to drift from the business at hand. "Memorial Day is such a weird holiday," someone said yesterday. "I'm not sure what to do. Are we supposed to have a good time or what?" I know that I am allowed to write in a newspaper about who is and who isn't having a good time because someone gave up his good times for my right to do so. Memorial Day is a day of gratitude. I am grateful.
It's also a day to recall that our struggles as a nation never end. This country is in about as much trouble today as it has ever been in my lifetime. I am worried this country has lost its way because it seems to have lost its ability to stop -- on this Memorial Day and every other day -- to ponder what we are really doing in the world. We have lost any sense of critical thinking. We have risen, quickly, to become the most powerful nation in the world. This is not like winning the World Cup. It doesn't call for a victory party. It only means we have to be careful, responsible, compassionate and generous. Or we will lose it all just as quickly as we gained it. My brother used to say to me when I was a kid, "We Americans are the most generous people in the world." For most of my life, I believed it. I'm sorry to say it is not true. Most of the world lives in horrific poverty and misery. In terms of the size of our economy, we rank last in the amount of foreign assistance, compared to the wealthier nations. We spend and spend on the military. We treat our veterans abysmally. Our leaders lack vision, we race into Iraq without having a plan to deal with the post-war mishegoss there. But who knows about it? The TV networks have gone home. The Laci Petersen case looms. ...
An inexplicable thing happened in the months before the war in Iraq. Americans were whispering about how the war would be good for the economy. The perversity of such a thing is stunning. It's -- dare I say?-- un-American. Where is the America that stood on a moral ground? Lives for petro-dollars? I know. I know. I'm naive. ...
The economy is the elephant in middle of the living room. Its deterioration seems like a threat to national security to me. The government sits at the head of the table in an enormous dysfunctional family. When I hear about Homeland Security and "heightened alerts," I think the alarm should be rung for the Oakland City Schools -- and for the rest of our schools. To let our schools collapse is suicide. Let's not argue about prayer in the classroom. Let's make sure we have classrooms. The Founding Fathers were fond of the term, "posterity." We don't know posterity from our posteriors. ...
We might want to teach our children that war is not noble. A Viet Nam War vet on Market St,. said, "Nobody wants to ask me about war -- I might tell them the truth." I wonder sometimes if there are any governments at all. In Paddy Chayevsky's "Network," Arthur Jensen, the TV mogul played by Ned Beatty, blusters,"There is no America, There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T ..." And maybe Bechtel ... That would be an awkward Pledge of Allegiance, no? Does a young soldier really want to die for the stockholders?
Love of country is too important to be left to the politicians. The other night Greg Jarrett, the KGO Radio reporter captivated a group of pals at Lefty O'Doul's with stories of his experiences with the Marines' "Purple Foxes" in Iraq. Greg said, "I have never seen such decency in my life. These enlisted men and women were so dedicated, so selfless. They spoke so movingly of their families, of their hometowns, of their friends, of their dreams. I came away so impressed. It gives me a faith in the goodness of people."
I'd like to think about that on Memorial Day. Harry Miles Muheim, who worked in Naval Intelligence in World War II and was a speech writer for Jimmy Carter, said to me recently, "In the end we have to remember that we all have an effect on others -- much more than we possibly know." It is how we will be remembered. As people and as a nation. If you go out to the Presidio National Cemetery today and not get a lump in your throat during the ceremonies, you have no heart. Yes, it is a weird holiday. A day to be grateful. There are rows and rows of unquiet graves there. You'd think with the passing of generations, there would be fewer and fewer reasons to have Memorial Days. But there is the relentless return of war, of sacrifice, of sorrow. With all this remembering, why do we keep forgetting?
Memorial Day isn't so much a day of remembrance but an occasion to remind us to remember. It seems strange these days to stop and be quiet for a while -- let alone to be pensive and allow ourselves to drift from the business at hand. "Memorial Day is such a weird holiday," someone said yesterday. "I'm not sure what to do. Are we supposed to have a good time or what?" I know that I am allowed to write in a newspaper about who is and who isn't having a good time because someone gave up his good times for my right to do so. Memorial Day is a day of gratitude. I am grateful.
It's also a day to recall that our struggles as a nation never end. This country is in about as much trouble today as it has ever been in my lifetime. I am worried this country has lost its way because it seems to have lost its ability to stop -- on this Memorial Day and every other day -- to ponder what we are really doing in the world. We have lost any sense of critical thinking. We have risen, quickly, to become the most powerful nation in the world. This is not like winning the World Cup. It doesn't call for a victory party. It only means we have to be careful, responsible, compassionate and generous. Or we will lose it all just as quickly as we gained it. My brother used to say to me when I was a kid, "We Americans are the most generous people in the world." For most of my life, I believed it. I'm sorry to say it is not true. Most of the world lives in horrific poverty and misery. In terms of the size of our economy, we rank last in the amount of foreign assistance, compared to the wealthier nations. We spend and spend on the military. We treat our veterans abysmally. Our leaders lack vision, we race into Iraq without having a plan to deal with the post-war mishegoss there. But who knows about it? The TV networks have gone home. The Laci Petersen case looms. ...
An inexplicable thing happened in the months before the war in Iraq. Americans were whispering about how the war would be good for the economy. The perversity of such a thing is stunning. It's -- dare I say?-- un-American. Where is the America that stood on a moral ground? Lives for petro-dollars? I know. I know. I'm naive. ...
The economy is the elephant in middle of the living room. Its deterioration seems like a threat to national security to me. The government sits at the head of the table in an enormous dysfunctional family. When I hear about Homeland Security and "heightened alerts," I think the alarm should be rung for the Oakland City Schools -- and for the rest of our schools. To let our schools collapse is suicide. Let's not argue about prayer in the classroom. Let's make sure we have classrooms. The Founding Fathers were fond of the term, "posterity." We don't know posterity from our posteriors. ...
We might want to teach our children that war is not noble. A Viet Nam War vet on Market St,. said, "Nobody wants to ask me about war -- I might tell them the truth." I wonder sometimes if there are any governments at all. In Paddy Chayevsky's "Network," Arthur Jensen, the TV mogul played by Ned Beatty, blusters,"There is no America, There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T ..." And maybe Bechtel ... That would be an awkward Pledge of Allegiance, no? Does a young soldier really want to die for the stockholders?
Love of country is too important to be left to the politicians. The other night Greg Jarrett, the KGO Radio reporter captivated a group of pals at Lefty O'Doul's with stories of his experiences with the Marines' "Purple Foxes" in Iraq. Greg said, "I have never seen such decency in my life. These enlisted men and women were so dedicated, so selfless. They spoke so movingly of their families, of their hometowns, of their friends, of their dreams. I came away so impressed. It gives me a faith in the goodness of people."
I'd like to think about that on Memorial Day. Harry Miles Muheim, who worked in Naval Intelligence in World War II and was a speech writer for Jimmy Carter, said to me recently, "In the end we have to remember that we all have an effect on others -- much more than we possibly know." It is how we will be remembered. As people and as a nation. If you go out to the Presidio National Cemetery today and not get a lump in your throat during the ceremonies, you have no heart. Yes, it is a weird holiday. A day to be grateful. There are rows and rows of unquiet graves there. You'd think with the passing of generations, there would be fewer and fewer reasons to have Memorial Days. But there is the relentless return of war, of sacrifice, of sorrow. With all this remembering, why do we keep forgetting?
Friday, May 02, 2003
A Man Alone
Bellingham column, San Francisco Examiner, May 2, 2003.
TIMES SQUARE, N.Y. -- FRIDAY, MAY 2 -- Time and space got a little distorted for me here in New York City on Wednesday night. At Carnegie Hall, Oakland-born Rod McKuen, the troubadour of San Francisco's 1960s Summer of Love, was on stage, in trademark white sweater, still bearded and still prophetic. But his admonitions about keeping the faith and following the heart weren't only directed at the young. "I'm not so much a senior citizen," he said in his unmistakable foggy voice. "I'm a seasoned citizen. And here is my advice: never give up." Backed by a small orchestra, Rod was celebrating his 70th birthday with a concert for a few friends. 2,600 of them. ... Among the celebrants, many famed divas: Bernadette Peters ... Roberta Peters ... Marilyn Horne ... Beverly Sills ... the expatriated Australian songstress, Lana Cantrell ... Keely Smith ... and perhaps most amazing, Licia Albanese, the opera star famous for her haunting portrayals of Violetta in "La Traviata." She will be 90 in July. ... Comedian Bill Maher, who has a one-man show running on Broadway, also dropped by to say hello. ...
Why does Rod McKuen draw so many singing legends to him? "I tend to gravitate toward talented people and they seem to respond," he says, almost obsequiously. "It amazes me," said Charles Ashman, McKuen's longtime friend and producer. "Half of the people who bought tickets are under 50. Rod has this incredible ability to reach across generations." ... Beth Anne Cox came to N.Y. from McBaine, Mich., to see Rod McKuen sing -- or recite. "It is the lovely quality of his lyrics that has transformed my life," she said on the sidewalk on a cool, pleasant evening outside Shelly's New York Restaurant on W. 57th Street. This is where the after-show gathering was held. "Tonight is my birthday, as well," Beth Anne smiled. "I think I made it to 43, in some ways, due to the message Rod sends. I suffered betrayal and a bitter Divorce but I will press on on my own, relying on myself. I've gone back to school. I'm getting a Ph.D. in English." ...
There were fans from China ... Japan ... Australia ... Israel. ... Carolanne Hough, from Savannah, is doing her best to get Rod McKuen to come to her town for the Johnny Mercer festivities. Ann Martin got a sitter for her poodle back in Lubbock, Texas, so she could make the New York trip. "I get a sitter for the poodle and the poodle sits the cat," she drawled. ... The talented and exuberant singer/composer Patricia Watson winged in from Maui. David Galligan, the director who has worked on many McKuen projects, will direct Patricia's rock opera, "Soulmates," in Honolulu. Rod McKuen takes the role of a priest. "The true poet for me," said Flaubert," is the priest." ...
Perhaps the greatest homage offered by priestly poet McKuen was the paean to San Francisco. He broke away from the songs to recite, "In a little room on Stanyan Street." There was a deep hush in the house. "It was Rod's poetry that lured me to San Francisco," said Teri Sherrow, an international real estate agent. Rod McKuen may talk of the soul as an island. Teri actually sells them. Islands, not souls. "You have to understand what it was like for a young girl filled with imagination, living in Pueblo, Colorado," she recalled. "Planes would fly overhead and I would dream about S.F. It was all from Rod McKuen's records and his poems. The place sounded so magical. He is the reason I moved to Sausalito and stayed for 15 years. He would talk about Sausalito ... and Stanyan Street." ... It must have been all those airliners flying over the house. Teri became a flight attendant and saw a world beyond Pueblo. McKuen's Web site is called "Flight Plan." ...
"Carnegie Hall means a lot to me," McKuen said, explaining his choice of venue. "It was after a Carnegie Hall show that I was introduced to Sinatra. He asked me to write an album for him -- 'A Man Alone.' Sinatra had never asked anyone to write a whole album for him. My life was changed forever that night." ... "A Man Alone" is the perfect Sinatra vehicle but it likely reveals more about the poet's psyche. McKuen, A Man Alone, speaks more openly these days about the chronic depression that disabled him. "I was in a bit of funk," he says ruefully. "A funk that lasted 10 years." ...
McKuen is working with Hewlett-Packard on a concert tour, to engage older people and encourage them not to be afraid of computer technology. Or anything else. "If your kids are being a real pain," McKuen advises, "then just overlook them when you e-mail your grandchildren." After the show, a cheerful mob poured into Shelly's to nosh on sweets and have champagne. I think he invited everyone. Hundreds lined up for hours to say hello and wish him a good birthday. It was 1 o'clock in the morning before McKuen had signed the last autograph and posed for the last picture. No one went away unhappy. The memories were galvanized. The sweet, tormented voice of Rod McKuen was restored. Stanyan Street was beatified. On Wednesday, in New York City, The Man Alone certainly was not alone. ..."
TIMES SQUARE, N.Y. -- FRIDAY, MAY 2 -- Time and space got a little distorted for me here in New York City on Wednesday night. At Carnegie Hall, Oakland-born Rod McKuen, the troubadour of San Francisco's 1960s Summer of Love, was on stage, in trademark white sweater, still bearded and still prophetic. But his admonitions about keeping the faith and following the heart weren't only directed at the young. "I'm not so much a senior citizen," he said in his unmistakable foggy voice. "I'm a seasoned citizen. And here is my advice: never give up." Backed by a small orchestra, Rod was celebrating his 70th birthday with a concert for a few friends. 2,600 of them. ... Among the celebrants, many famed divas: Bernadette Peters ... Roberta Peters ... Marilyn Horne ... Beverly Sills ... the expatriated Australian songstress, Lana Cantrell ... Keely Smith ... and perhaps most amazing, Licia Albanese, the opera star famous for her haunting portrayals of Violetta in "La Traviata." She will be 90 in July. ... Comedian Bill Maher, who has a one-man show running on Broadway, also dropped by to say hello. ...
Why does Rod McKuen draw so many singing legends to him? "I tend to gravitate toward talented people and they seem to respond," he says, almost obsequiously. "It amazes me," said Charles Ashman, McKuen's longtime friend and producer. "Half of the people who bought tickets are under 50. Rod has this incredible ability to reach across generations." ... Beth Anne Cox came to N.Y. from McBaine, Mich., to see Rod McKuen sing -- or recite. "It is the lovely quality of his lyrics that has transformed my life," she said on the sidewalk on a cool, pleasant evening outside Shelly's New York Restaurant on W. 57th Street. This is where the after-show gathering was held. "Tonight is my birthday, as well," Beth Anne smiled. "I think I made it to 43, in some ways, due to the message Rod sends. I suffered betrayal and a bitter Divorce but I will press on on my own, relying on myself. I've gone back to school. I'm getting a Ph.D. in English." ...
There were fans from China ... Japan ... Australia ... Israel. ... Carolanne Hough, from Savannah, is doing her best to get Rod McKuen to come to her town for the Johnny Mercer festivities. Ann Martin got a sitter for her poodle back in Lubbock, Texas, so she could make the New York trip. "I get a sitter for the poodle and the poodle sits the cat," she drawled. ... The talented and exuberant singer/composer Patricia Watson winged in from Maui. David Galligan, the director who has worked on many McKuen projects, will direct Patricia's rock opera, "Soulmates," in Honolulu. Rod McKuen takes the role of a priest. "The true poet for me," said Flaubert," is the priest." ...
Perhaps the greatest homage offered by priestly poet McKuen was the paean to San Francisco. He broke away from the songs to recite, "In a little room on Stanyan Street." There was a deep hush in the house. "It was Rod's poetry that lured me to San Francisco," said Teri Sherrow, an international real estate agent. Rod McKuen may talk of the soul as an island. Teri actually sells them. Islands, not souls. "You have to understand what it was like for a young girl filled with imagination, living in Pueblo, Colorado," she recalled. "Planes would fly overhead and I would dream about S.F. It was all from Rod McKuen's records and his poems. The place sounded so magical. He is the reason I moved to Sausalito and stayed for 15 years. He would talk about Sausalito ... and Stanyan Street." ... It must have been all those airliners flying over the house. Teri became a flight attendant and saw a world beyond Pueblo. McKuen's Web site is called "Flight Plan." ...
"Carnegie Hall means a lot to me," McKuen said, explaining his choice of venue. "It was after a Carnegie Hall show that I was introduced to Sinatra. He asked me to write an album for him -- 'A Man Alone.' Sinatra had never asked anyone to write a whole album for him. My life was changed forever that night." ... "A Man Alone" is the perfect Sinatra vehicle but it likely reveals more about the poet's psyche. McKuen, A Man Alone, speaks more openly these days about the chronic depression that disabled him. "I was in a bit of funk," he says ruefully. "A funk that lasted 10 years." ...
McKuen is working with Hewlett-Packard on a concert tour, to engage older people and encourage them not to be afraid of computer technology. Or anything else. "If your kids are being a real pain," McKuen advises, "then just overlook them when you e-mail your grandchildren." After the show, a cheerful mob poured into Shelly's to nosh on sweets and have champagne. I think he invited everyone. Hundreds lined up for hours to say hello and wish him a good birthday. It was 1 o'clock in the morning before McKuen had signed the last autograph and posed for the last picture. No one went away unhappy. The memories were galvanized. The sweet, tormented voice of Rod McKuen was restored. Stanyan Street was beatified. On Wednesday, in New York City, The Man Alone certainly was not alone. ..."
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