Surf's Up: on the Flight Deck with Brian Wilson

The one and only, the great Brian Wilson.

In 1994, I was being recruited for a CEO job with Luna Imaging, an L.A.-based start-up with Getty funding.  Before my visit to meet the entrepreneur, when I would stay at Shutters on the Beach and get the pitch, I first snuck out to the coast for a screening meeting during a half-day stop-over in LAX with Gary Hromadko, the VC backing the venture.

We met in the American Airlines Ambassador Lounge and sat in the big lounge chairs.  There, sunk comfortably into a huge chair ten feet away with a confidante?  Brian Wilson!

Although I'd resisted my band-mate Dave's proselytizing in college about the Beach Boys, I eventually could admit I admired Brian - much more for his ballads than for the Beach Boy surf rave-ups.  Especially because he was secure enough, whole enough (or crazy enough?) to write and sing with great emotional vulnerability about fear, and alone-ness, and crying, and doubt, and hurt - in songs like "In My Room,"  "Girl Don't Tell Me,"  "Caroline, No" and " 'Til I Die."

Brian Wilson at the Bridge - on Sunset

Flash forward to 1994 and by this point in my life, I was a confirmed fan, but had not yet developed a complete appreciation for Brian's production genius that would be fulfilled when I came late to Pet Sounds, and - finally - when SMiLE finally had its 38-years-late release.  Still I felt I had a kindred spirit in that he was the only other person I knew of who admired and openly praised the Four Freshmen - to others they were Squaresville, 'though not to me, and Brian has always honored them as his harmonic inspiration.

Perfect Pitch

Gary and I spent a little over two hours talking.  Sometime before we wrapped up, Brian and his friend stood up, shook hands and parted.  As he walked away from us, I thought of the anonymous silhouettes, receding against the day-glo horizon, in the classic key-art poster from the Bruce Brown film "Endless Summer."

I was too awe-struck, and too much captive of the interview moment, to get up and introduce myself.  But I felt the warmth of his sun* ... and knew I'd now truly been in California!

Precision Genius

 . . . "Lately, I'd been depressed and preoccupied with death...Looking out toward the ocean, my mind, as it did almost every hour of every day, worked to explain the inconsistencies that dominated my life; the pain, torment, and confusion and the beautiful music I was able to make. Was there an answer? Did I have no control? Had I ever? Feeling shipwrecked on an existential island, I lost myself in the balance of darkness that stretched beyond the breaking waves to the other side of the earth. The ocean was so incredibly vast, the universe was so large, and suddenly I saw myself in proportion to that, a little pebble of sand, a jellyfish floating on top of the water; traveling with the current I felt dwarfed, temporary. The next day I began writing "'Til I Die", perhaps the most personal song I ever wrote for The Beach Boys...In doing so, I wanted to re-create the swell of emotions that I'd felt at the beach the previous night."

'Til I Die - Surf's Up, 1971

* Something interesting here.

Julius Lester - Cupid and an Early Valentine

"We are only human. We make mistakes. We oft times do not know what we are 
doing, or why. We hurt each other out of the depths of hurts whose pain we have 
not felt. This is what it means to be human - to love each other in our 
mistakes, our hurting each other, and in the darkness that is always present."

Journal,  1978 

Remarkable Julius Lester

In Amherst, MA we have a marvelous, unique and incredibly creative man, a  man who has sought to understand human struggle - political, social, private and emotional - and documented it with force, feeling, and amazing tenderness.  He is Julius Lester.

New School professor, distinguished UMass faculty icon; folksinger, board member 1965 Newport Folk Festival; photo documentarian of the US civil rights movement (here's a great interview), Viet Nam war, and Castro/Cuba.  Pioneer in Afro-American Studies, Judaic and Near Eastern Studies.  But I admire Julius most for three things:

    
1. He wrote "Look Out, Whitey!  Black Power's Gon' Get Your Mama!" about his days (through early '68, though he must have turned the manuscript in just before April 4), as a field coordinator on the ramparts at the SNCC,
2. He wrote "Cupid," and when I heard his heart-melting reading at the Jones Library he left tears on many of our faces,
3. He occasionally reads, sings, or lay-leads at services in our lively local synagogue, the Jewish Community of Amherst.

When in Amherst, come to the back room at A. J. Hastings Newsdealer's, and search among the greeting cards for his hand-printed and signed masterpieces, including this one below ("Black American Gothic") which I presented to my wife one year on Valentine's Day.  Then walk across the street to Amherst Books and purchase a copy of "Cupid," as I did for my eldest daughter as a Valentine's Day gift when she was coming of age.

Black American Gothic  (1966)  -  (c) Julius Lester

I was lucky enough to speak with Julius recently when his photographs were on display at the JCA. Introduced myself as a reader and as the son of an old English department colleague.  We shared a few words, and I met his lovely wife.  I took a chance and complemented her that she was no doubt the blessing in his life who enables him to write so warmly about human love and vulnerability.  Then I [coarsely] quoted him this passage from "Cupid," and thanked him for the dialog his book had opened between me and my then 13 year old daughter:

"There come moments in each of our journeys when we can no longer continue our lives as they are.  But neither can we see what we will become.  We either go forward, with no idea of where we are going or what we are doing, or we remain as we are - and begin to die, though we do not realize that is the choice we have made.  This is why love is such a fearful undertaking...."

Cupid: A Tale of Love & Desire, 2007
 

Shabbat Shalom

A man who understands struggle and love, and can enlighten us on each, is someone who understands much of what life is about.


Gratefully Yours.

Fellow Breast Man Roger Ebert

Poolside: an Urgent call . . .

Roger Ebert is one of the best ever - perhaps the finest -  movie/film critics in the world over the past 50 years (Take that, Paulene Kael!).  He and partner Gene Siskel (R.I.P.) created the "thumbs up/down" rating shorthand and had true chemistry as a reviewing team. 

Roger is a fanatic, on par with Peter Bogdonovich; he's also always honest and thoughtful - and I think quite fair - in his reviewing.  I appreciated this review of Roger's.  I still disagree with RE about Ryan's Daughter, though....

Thumbs Up !

Usually treated as an amusing footnote to his bio, the young Ebert of 1970 dabbled in debauchery with my hero Russ Meyer as screenplay collaborator on Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

Ebert Surrounded - the Gang's All Here

In the spring of 2005 I finally got to meet Roger when he was honored with a CINE Lifetime Achievement Award on M street NW in Washington DC.  A friend had invited me to the event at National Geographic TV, and after seeing the Raymonds (Patient Zero progenitors with their high-quality PBS innovation "American Family" that indirectly begat today's 'reality' sewage) honored, I caught up with Roger.

First stop (establishing shot): Men's Room.

"Porter Hall," I introduced myself.  Ebert brightened, quizzically. "We have a good, mutual friend - RM" I continued.  "How do you know Russ?" asked Roger, and we were off.

Initial exposition and plot-set-up.  Backstory.  All that rot.  Choice private anecdotes for validation (see below).  Confirmation.  Camaraderie.  Continuity.  Drama, pathos and everything else, in ten minutes chat and a stroll from the Sumner School building down to the street, round the corner and a sidewalk parting at the cab on 17th street, NW.

Ebert instantly connected the dots - he had heard Russ talk of his Washington 'insider' buddy, referring always to a "Porter Hall," whose original namesake is a shady character whom Ebert/Meyer contrived in the BVD script, played to a villainous T by Duncan McLeod.  Well, that insider is yours truly.

Two Gentlemen without Equal

Roger and I lamented RM's passing the previous September.  By his words about Rus,s it was instantly, abundantly and cantilevered-ly clear that Roger had been as genuine and devoted a friend as any man could ever have.

Now, Russ was without doubt the best raconteur I ever met, with a genius for tale-telling, a vocabulary that he could have copyrighted, and a bottomless well of incredible stories ("Hemingway rousted us out of our fartsacks and paid our way into the best whorehouse in Paris"... "I screwed Uschi all that summer on the carpet of my office at Fox!"... "Ebert got blown by the pool!" ... etc.).

On and On . . .

The bond between Roger and Russ was borne out by the hours of tales RM had spun with me about his exploits with the youthful Ebert, which are more fully chronicled and liberally sprinkled throughout RM's 19-lb., three-volume "Breast of Russ Meyer."  And RM loved to recount these hi-jinks when we were out on the town.  Once, over huge portions of liver and onions at the Daily Grill in Palm Desert, Russ referred to Ebert (with obvious gleeful affection) a "that Moravian bastard!"  Russ was a demanding friend - he had no distractions in his own life other than self-selected obsessions, and he offered little and grudging latitude to those of us whose attention he craved; yet, although he no doubt vied competitively with her for RE's attention, RM always spoke with highest regard for RE's wife Chaz.

When we met, Roger was already struggling with the cancer that would eventually ravage his larynx, shoulder, jawbone, and facial structure.  Head held high, he soldiers on un-deterred, and un-abashed, just like his best friend.

News: Roger Ebert passed away April 4, 2013.

Rest In Peace, and See You At The Movies. 

Rockin' the Vote with Martha Quinn - My MTV All-Nighter

As an unsullied early-career kid, circa 1982-83, I had but one dream: to move to NYC and work in business development for MTV.  I got my shot in 1985, but before then something even more magical happened: I met and of course fell in love with Martha Quinn.

My Martha: Ah, the Eighties ...

Well, we all were in love with Martha, once she and her confreres hit the airwaves in August '81. But of course I was sure that I loved her more than anyone else possibly could.

California My Way - 5th Dimension, later Main Ingredient

So it's late 1983, and I'm an east coast boy on his first visit to California. Had already hit the beach in Malibu with Dick "Laugh-In" Martin, then rented a car and drove in a SoCal freeway Lot-49-and-L.A.-Woman revery down "the 5" and then east and west on Ball Road, bulked at Spaghetti Station, before checking in to the Anaheim Hyatt on the Disneyland perimeter for two days of the Western Cable Show.

I quickly found out where the night's action would be: upstairs at the WASEC reception.

Deep Purple: Place in Line

Bob Pittman was there, I schmoozed him a bit, hung with the marketing guys for a while, and then I spotted her, perched on a stool at the countertop, and lighting up the hospitality suite with her smile and laughter.  Martha Quinn - tiny as a mouse, and bubbly like new champagne. Chortling along: uplink site techie Paul Beeman, a jolly middle-aged guy from the Smithtown TOC.

Diamond Dave - Always On

What developed next was a boisterous, high-pitched music trivia game between the three of us, and it went on for over three hours.  Her handler got cranky because Martha was engrossed with us instead of working the crowd, but finally gave up and left us alone.  Forward we rolled like Def Leppard - On Through The Night.

I'll Join You In That Time Capsule

Martha really knew her 60's stuff, 80's Thompson-Twin techno/poppy-pop, and folk music, and she of course had the inside track on all the acts of the moment including the L.A. hair-metalers.  Beeman was an encyclopedia - acts, songs, dates, labels and chart position.  I held my own on heavy metal/NWOBHM, 70's soul/R&B, San Francisco sound - and early 50's vocal groups.  It is safe to say that we all showed each other up, and blew each other away.  Over and over and over.  I could hear music....

*  *  *  *  *

We stayed up nearly 'til sunrise.  Paul disappeared.  Great breathtaking fun, lots and lots of jazzy, twinkly eye contact.  Where would it end?  Well, it would end back in New York....

All Within Reach ... If You Know What To Do.

Naturally - what a rube! - I imagined/hoped that this night was just the beginning.  We exchanged numbers in the Hyatt lobby, agreed to each think about a trivia question that was really just a conversation continu-er concerning Van Halen and the high number and interesting selection of cover songs they had produced and might next produce, and we made vague plans to see each other in New York.

Martha in Malibu - I Want My ...

I had to call through the MTV switchboard many, many fruitless times for her (it was obvious there was a never-ending queue of clowns calling and panting for her, and I guess I was one, albeit ultimately with an edge of slight legitimacy), and we did indeed re-connect later that winter, for coffee on Astor Place, and separately, briefly and awkwardly, at the Cherry Lane Theater, but the magic was gone.  She was in her world, and I a visiting nobody from Nowheresville.

I later had opportunities to cross paths at the end-of-'84 MTV New Year's Eve Party, and at the 1985 MTV Music Awards, but by then fate had cruelly decided that nothing would materialize.

Still, ....

Keep Counting, Florida !!

My shining moment with Madame Secretary, here.

Cheers, all!

Katherine Harris, at the Orchid Ball
"Those Who Do Not Learn From Their History Are Doomed To Repeat It ! "

Winston Churchill,   paraphrasing George Santayana 

Presidents and Near-Presidents I've Met, or Nearly Met

You've Spoken, and We've Listened: with the Presidential Election imminently upon us, I can't resist re-stunting these posts for you, the well-informed electorate.

Like an erstaz Forrest Gump?  Zelig?  Joe Garagiola?  I have blundered across the paths of more than one person who occupied or lusted to occupy the Oval office... or the U.S. Naval Observatory... and a couple who helped determine the outcome of a Presidential campaign or election.

Meet a few of them here:

• Alan Cranston (D, 1984)
• John Edwards (D, 2004, 2008)
• Tony Goldwyn (R, 2012)
• John Glenn (D, 1984)
• Katherine Harris (R, 2000)
• Donna Rice [Gary Hart (D, 1984, 1988)]
• Fritz Hollings (D, 1984)
• John F. Kennedy (D, 1960)
• Teddy Kennedy (D, 1980)
• John Kerry (D, 2004)
• Hadassah Lieberman [Joe (D, 2000)]
• George McGovern (D, 1972)
• George Stephanopoulos [Bill Clinton (D, 1992)]
• Mo Udall (D, 1976)

To come:

• Tipper Gore [Al Gore (D, 1992, 1996, 2000)]
• H. Ross Perot (I, 1992)

Mo Udall, Sweetheart of Theta Delta Chi

Well, it was a snowy, snowy winter's Saturday night, of which we had many, on the Hill.  Morris Udall (D, AZ) who had tried to capture the 1976 Democratic presidential nomination by running to the left of Jimmy Carter, visited the campus to speak in the Hamilton College Chapel.

Have a Drink on Me, Mr. President

My politico friends attended, I didn't.  I was at the Pub.  But some of the leftest-leaning students on the Program Board, who'd brought ol' Mo to Clinton, were upperclass members of Theta Delta Chi where I had friends, and where a second-shift party was to occur as the Pub was closing.

In the inexorable political movement of the moment, I followed in the hip-deep, snowy peloton of the happy throng ... to the promise of more beer.

Never Fail

Inside, it was elbow to elbow, cheek-by-jowl, and I found myself braced in a huddle of Psi U varsity basketball players just outside TDX's dimly-lit "library." Into the scene came Mo, himself a former pro hoopster with the [original] Denver Nuggets.  Lots of back-slapping and Q&A about the Continentals' prospects ('77-'78: ECAC finalists, 23-3) - "Go Conts!" we loved to shout.  So yours truly, head and shoulders shorter than the gaggle, was suddenly face to face - or chin to chest - with the Senator.

"What's your name, son?" he boomed.

"Tom.  And I loved your speech!"

But for 7,500 votes to Carter in the Wisconsin primary two years before, Big Mo might have been in the White House that night in January, 1978.  Instead, he was holding forth in Clinton, NY with clowns like my friends and me, leaning on a broken-down frat-house piano in the Great Hall of TDX.

I know that we were all right where we belonged.

R.I.P. George McGovern - My Co-Pilot

He led thirty seven missions as a B-24 pilot in World War II, but my thrill was to sit across the aisle from George McGovern when we flew our joint mission as passengers on the Eastern Shuttle, from Washington DC to New York City, one autumn morning in 1986.

We found ourselves seated in aisle seats opposite each other.  Aloft, I allowed the Senator a few moments to enjoy the New York Times before catching his eye.  "Senator McGovern, what an honor - I worked for you in 1972!" I blurted out.  He smiled, closed his paper, and said graciously "Really? You can't possibly be old enough to have worked on my Presidential campaign!"

What I Wouldn't Give for a Little Un-Interrupted Newspaper Time!

"But it's true," I said:  "I was 13, and I passed out McGovern-Shriver leaflets all over my neighborhood in Massachusetts!"

"Ah, Massachusetts," he winked, and then said "Whatever you did there... it worked!"

Then he asked me what part of Massachusetts I came from.  "Well, Amherst."  I shared with him the interesting fact that, when the entire US save for Massachusetts and Washington DC had voted to re-elect Nixon, our perky little burg had gone all-in for McGovern - with 93% of the popular vote!  Nixon collected 5%, and Wallace 2%.  Yes, we in Amherst were a bit out of the mainstream, even then.

Here is a nice clip of George signing books in Amherst a little earlier this year.

 
At all this he laughed, adding "What a great, great town.  Academic town.  Had a lot of good support there!  Probably thanks to all of your hard work!"

I wasn't sure I'd changed anyone's mind on West Street or Mill Lane, but said lots of people including my parents had worked very hard for him, and were proud of what he hoped to accomplish for the country.  We made a bit more conversation, landed, grabbed our respective overcoats from the overhead bins, and bid one another adieu. 

Rest In Peace, Good Man
July 19, 1922 - October 21, 2012

On-Air with Diane Rehm

Diane Rehm at the mic. and kicking it

I took communion - or ate glazed donuts - as a member of St. Columba's Episcopal Church in Washington, DC, with a variety of notables - Ray Suarez, Mort Kondracke, Judy Woodruff, and occasionally (C&E) James Baker.  Also in the lifeboat with us?  NPR's wonderful Diane Rehm.

Tea & Simit by the Bosphorus: and NPR on the radio!

Diane and husband John were among the faithful, and among the very involved.  I enjoyed meeting and getting to know Diane, and especially hearing her distinctive voice.  Mesmerizing!

We two exotics spoke once or twice about our shared roots in Turkey - she from Mersin and I, Istanbul - and in fact it was Diane who recommended the new Cafe Divan on Wisconsin Avenue, NW when it opened, as the place I must go for döner kabap.  She knew her stuff.

Today, at 11:00 a.m., Diane is presenting a fantastic program on Claude Debussy and I wouldn't miss it for all the world. Neither should you!

Joan Garry Is Alright

Advocacy can be a blood sport, but there are some who lead with great class and one of these is Joan Garry, whom I knew before she was running GLAAD. 

Joan and Eileen

Joan is civilly-united to a good old friend of mine, Eileen Opatut, and when we first met in 1985, Joan had the coolest job on earth (well, I thought so): business development at WASEC, the holding company that was building Nickelodeon and MTV rapidly into the megaliths they have become.

Eileen had many cool jobs herself picking programs for National Geographic, next 'programmes' for the BBC, and later suffering as EVP of Programming for the Food Network - yumm, and with a title like that you never have trouble getting a table at a good restaurant.

Speaking of TV, does it seem lately as though the number of LGBT characters on TV is increasing?  I think so too.  GLAAD has worked on this front as well as on many others.

I haven't seen Joan in years - too many - but I like her a lot.  She writes for HuffPost sometimes and here's a really nice article sharing her frank assessment of The Kids Are Alright.

Will TV shows and movies move the meter and get us to a day of peaceable coexistence?  That's putting a lot of responsibility on the the TV and film folk, more than they probably can shoulder alone.  There is still a ways to go: see Joan's honest and personal article here about separate but equal.

But in my own lifetime we are already now miles down the road from the benighted past.    :-)

On Safari to Stay: Key-Hammering with Peter Serkin

A High Culture Treat in the Hinterlands

Two rules of this blog - rarely, but in extraordinary cases, broken - are:

1. Don't post about people whom you nearly, but don't actually, meet - and
2. Don't post about people whom you line up to meet at a performance (as in, standing in line to get Whitey Ford's autograph at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Cooperstown, lining up outside the stage door to meet Jeff Goldblum or Patti Smith, or buying a plate at a fundraiser where your hangdog Congressman is going to appear)

I may or may not be walking the line here, but what the heck:

Elegance, Understatement... Malaise

Last evening, my wife and I were lucky guests of one of the major sponsors at the season Opening Night of the Springfield Symphony, featuring a performance by renowned pianist Peter Serkin.  Our gracious host had an appointment to meet with Peter following the performance and champagne reception, and invited us to join him.

Serkin dazzled at the piano seat with three movements of the Bartok Piano Concerto & Orchestra #3.  From our third row seats 3/4 to the left, I had a great, close-up view of the underside of Pete's right sleeve, palm and fingertips, as he tickled the ivories - particularly on the very tender and striking 2nd movement, Adagio religioso.

The prospect of meeting piano scion Serkin was interesting to me for a more personal reason: my brother, also a pianist of international high acclaim, had done a residency at Tanglewood three summers ago and, at the time, performed a Brahms sonata with cello - originally for violin - for Peter in the Serkin home.  Not a bad ice-breaker, thought yours truly.

Well, Mr. Serkin exited stage left following the Bartok and preceding the intermission.  Finished with his own part of the program, the pianist alerted the stage manager he was feeling ill, and he retired before 'we-the-highbrows' could finish hearing the rest of the program and move to the room where Junior Leaguers were pouring the champagne.

Where's Pete? Never saw him again.

At Symphony Hall - L: Virtuoso Serkin (dov'e?)   R: Vagabundo Porter

Tell the teacher we're Serkin' - Serkin' U.S.A. !

Mor-ton!! Backing up Mr. Kondracke in the Pew

Kondracke: One of the Last True Journalists

I became familiar with Morton Kondracke as many did in the 1980's, by watching The McLaughlin Group - in its time a jarring "pundit / shouter" show that seemed boisterous, but maintained a higher level of discourse et decorum than almost any of its 21st century cable news descendants.  By today's standards it is quaint, even dignified.  How we've devolved!

When I joined St. Columba's Church congregation, I eventually settled into a regular seat in the second pew, right of the aisle.  Mor-ton! was the regular in the first pew, with his dear wife Milly.

Over nearly ten years, we exchanged the peace hundreds of times.

Milly passed away in 2004.  R.I.P.

We also got to know each other just a bit.  For instance, I very much enjoyed a half-day enrichment session that he led at the church, organized by our rector Jim Donald, called "Working for the Common Good."  Mort led our small group in a series of explorations on finding soulful meaning in one's daily work.  Tom Chappell of Tom's (of Maine) Toothpaste also shared the couch with Morton for this nice and uplifting Saturday's exercise.

Mort has served as Executive Editor of both New Republic and Roll Call, written for the Wall Street Journal and appeared on numerous TV news outlets.  He got his start as President of The Dartmouth newspaper and incidentally, as a class of '60 grad, he overlapped there with Chris Miller in the Animal House era.  To-ga!

When I mentioned once that I knew him, my mother, a Morton fan, instructed me to ask him "What kind of a name is 'Kondracke,' anyway - Assyrian?"

Morton is a genuinely nice, committed, caring guy who works his tail off and thinks clearly about what he has to say before spouting off.

I admire Mort Kondracke!

Citizen Kelley: Standing with Local Hero Larry Kelley

Sound and Fury

(Amherst, MA. September 11): 
We in scholarly Amherst like to think we're the center of wisdom.

Nevertheless, often, we can be as closed-minded as many an academic 'burg - and in our most grandiose overreaches we achieve a pettiness, didacticism and tragedy worthy of Horton Foote's Orphans' Home Cycle characters of Harrison, East Texas.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...! 

Kevin Joy and Larry Kelley unfurl the Big One on the Town Common, 2011

Counterpoint: Each year on September 11, Larry Kelley and many other local citizens, police and firefighters help bring attention to this momentous day in the history and life of our nation.  Believe it or not, this upsets some in the town.

Viewed from within the Amherst bubble, Fox News appears downright alien

Larry was called to Boston last week to appear on Fox News, to explain to the rest of Planet Earth just how we in Amherst make sense of things, such as debating whether and how we ought to raise the flag on 9/11.   Predictably, we have a Professor here in town who attested before the Town Select Board on September 10, 2001 - the evening before the attacks - that Amherst should not fly the American flag because "[The U.S.] flag is a symbol of terrorism and death and fear and destruction and oppression."  This was eleven years ago, and got us plenty of attention in the aftermath as you would imagine.

What's rich is that so many fellow travelers here used to believe (circa 2000-2008) that dissent was the highest form of patriotism; now, in our current 'flap' over whether to raise the flag on 9/11 we simultaneously prove, and truly get to re-test, this maxim.

Tell It, Brother

Fast forward to 2012: There's more to the story, but in a nutshell one third of the town electors like to see the flag, so citizens get to see it once every fifth year.  What ???  Essentially, many in Amherst have "mixed feelings" about being part of the United States, the balance know that the town should observe 9/11, and so the Select Board put the flag-flying to a vote of the unruly 200+ Town Meeting congregation some years ago and - like Mayor Villaraigosa last week - made the determination that the vote had gone 2:1 against flying the flags.  The ingenious solution? Fly the flags every third year, to reflect public sentiment!  Then, at ten years, the Select Board voted to make it every fifth year because - I suppose - 5 years is an easier rhythm to remember than 3.

You're Wearing That, Larry ??

As town gadfly, Larry Kelley's daily local impact - and his occasional national prominence - are notorious, and thus frequently rankle the populace and the powers that be.

Flag-raising is only one front for soldier Kelley, and this week's national media attention not the first time he's figured in Amherst's questionable notoriety.

Loyal local patriot Stanley Dornakowski

In large part through Larry's civic-minded agitation, the melodramas of Amherst's high school drama department - (1999: first school or town ever to ban West Side Story, which has been performed in over 3,000 communities, over imaginary "racism"; 2004: righteous acting-out by staging the Vagina Monologues) -  have brought Amherst under Good Morning America's lens and drawn international O'Reilly Factor scrutiny for the healthy dose of opprobrium that some think we so richly deserve.

Fanfare for the Common Man (photo - C. Jones)

Larry is also an entrepreneur (and married to an entrepreneurship professor - they know what-of they speak in that household) who has operated a successful local fitness and instruction business, and had a hand in establishing a superior Chinese Immersion Charter School in the area, naturally a threat to the local public school hegemony.

Now he energetically publishes the fine "hyper-local" news blog Only In Amherst.

Larry holds everyone's feet to the fire, including mine.  He forces the town government to be more transparent, the school committee more accountable, the university - administration, students, and the larger eco-system such as party-house landlords - to be more responsible.

He raises the standards of local journalism through competition and innovation.

We need more Larry Kelleys.

Cinda and Larry frame the real issue

As a sixth generation Amherst native, Larry also contributes much to the community in his role of ersatz local history curator.  The current speculation on the existence of a second photographic image of our Emily Dickinson is something Larry reported on 3 weeks ahead of the local press, and he has the bloodline to pursue the facts.  Larry is a Local Hero.

Remember Our Heroes today

And meet two of mine: Ann Judge and Jerry Della Salla

Mudhoney Soundgarden Sub-Pop Eating Crew

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner...

What a pair of fortunate sons: had seen Soundgarden with Bowled Geoffe ("Hunted Down!") when they appeared at the New Music Seminar summer '88 Sub-Pop showcase at CBGB's, and we were itching for more of the stompin' Cornell/Thayil blend of drone-riff-wailing.  This night in March 1989, the Soundgardeners would support headline act Mudhoney, and we were also keen to experience first-hand Arm/Turner/Peters/Lukin's raw power energy.

Hangin' at raucous Maxwell's in Hoboken, and we went in early for dinner before the show.

As our rollicking crew that included John Keim and Jim Bresson sat in the front room for dinner, we could hear the sound check winding up in the back, and then in walked the Seattle grunge crew... who sat right down at the two tables next to ours.  So this is the evening we "ate dinner with Soundgarden and Mudhoney."

Thayil: Brother Injoys

We had just been served.  When Soundgarden's turn came to order, Kim Thayil asked the waiter about the pasta with sausage and the waiter pointed at my plate.  "How is that, man?" Kim asked me.  "Pretty good, man!" I responded.

He ordered "what that guy's having," we gave each other the knowing nod, and went right on with our lives.

The show was incredible - high energy and crazed audience participation, in a very close space.

Cornell and crew blasted off, propelled by the walnut-grinder riffs of pasta fan Thayil and the rhythm & beat of Dave Cameron/Hiro Yamamoto.  They ended with a medley of Working Man/18/Communication Breakdown that sent the place up in flames.

I'm A Boy And I'm A Man

I was partial to Soundgarden already, so I thought they ought to have been the headliners.  But once the Mudhoney "Superfuzz Bigmuff" rocket-ride tore the roof off, we were sent into orbit and at one point found ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder with Thayil, oscillating in frenzy at the lip of the stage. 

Here is a decent account of the Mudhoney set and the general vibe:

3/11/89 Maxwell's. Hoboken, NJ (55 min) [ Thanks "Tourbook" ]

He doesn't mention it but at one point in "Mud-ride," Mark Arm surfed over the crowd on his back, holding onto the wired mike, made a few mid-song oscillations, and then used the mike cord to reel himself hand-over-hand back to stage, as the stack into which his mike was plugged teetered and lurched precariously.  Amp, Arm and crowd on the very knife edge.

But an hour and a half earlier, we were knifing into our grungy grub together like hungry workingmen, ready for anything - ready to screeeeeeeeeam!

* * * * * * *

Q: Why a Mudhoney beer?  [ Thanks for the account below, Sunbreak ]

Timing Dispute: "I know whatcherthinkinpunk: was it 1989 or only 1988? Well to tell you the truth, in all this confusion, I'm not too sure myself:"

BURN IT CLEAN

In 1988, I saw Mudhoney at Maxwell’s in Hoboken (editor's note: Likelier, it was the Pyramid Club in Manhattan). About 30 seconds into the second song, they went into overdrive. It was Blue Cheer meets Black Flag. To top it off, they finished the set with the Dicks’ “Hate The Police.” I was hooked. (I kinda felt bad for Live Skull, the headlining act, having to follow that.) So if I had any band to make a beer for, why not them? I contacted Steve Turner and got his thumbs-up.

As with our “higher gravities” theme, it’s 8.5% ABV. I dropped a bottle off at the local record store and heard back that it was “too sweet.” I told them that it’s a mega honey ale. I knew they really didn’t drink it because they were able to type afterwards.