Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Revivals

Took advantage of a trip to New York last week to catch two well-reviewed revivals, South Pacific and Finian's Rainbow. The former was the first ever Broadway return for the Rodgers & Hammerstein smash of the late 40s-early 50s; the latter was a six-performance run by Encores, a group that specializes in reviving musicals, at City Center, nee Mecca Temple, on 55th St. We went Saturday night and possibly because of the rave in that morning's Times, the joint was packed to the gills.

Finian's Rainbow remains a total delight, probably because of its inane plot, which goes off in all kinds of directions--Burton Lane hit his high spot with this score, from How Are Things in Glocca Mora, That Old Devil Moon, and If This Isn't Love, and then the leprechaun's two magnificently rhymed turns, Something Sort of Grandish and If I'm Not Near the Girl I Love, in which E. Y. (Yip) Harburg, the lyricist, had a field day. The first of those two benefitted in the original (1949, I think) from Ella Logan and David Wayne, but Harburg's lyrics went over wonderfully in the presentation of a fine cast without stars. Harburg throws in lots of great lefty political references--including the centerpiece, of course, of turning the racist senator black. Philip Bosco--probably the only famous name in this cast--played the senator (it was Keenan Wynn in the movie). But in the end, how can you not love "Every femme that flutters by me/is a flame that must be fought/ when i'm not fondling the face that I'm fond of/I fondle the face at hand/my heart's in a pickle, it's constantly fickle/and not too partickle, I fear..."

This show was staged just enough, as this series only claims to do minimal staging. The plot needs no more encouragement. We sat in the back of the rear mezz, which at City Center is truly hell'n'gone but it still was fine for both sound and view. Even met a couple we know (mostly through another friend) from DC and his uncle was Yip Harburg. Small world is getting smaller.

There's probably some Bway reason why South Pacific hadn't been revived until now. Maybe it was the years it took for people to identify positively with any war, including the war "that had to be fought": WW II. And Hammerstein's mushy and now embarrassing side, exemplified by LT Cable's second-act song, "You've Got to be Carefully Taught." As a lover of Rodgers & Hart, I would argue that no one could come up with melodies like Richard Rodgers but Rodgers & Hammerstein were left on the shelf for decades because of the pretentiousness of Hammerstein's lyrics compared with Hart's snappy ones, so reminiscent of Cole Porter, another closeted gay guy (as was Rodgers, too, as it happens). I recall Hammerstein's widow or daughter contending on some show that without his words, Kern's immortal Old Man River (from Showboat) was just notes. Well, I'd take Kern's tune (especially when performed by the original Joe, Paul Robeson) over Hammerstein's words anytime on that one.

But South Pacific remains a blockbuster because of the hit after hit song--no clinkers. The stage erupts in excitement in the second scene when the sailors and Seabees charge onstage, led by Milo Minderbinder's inspiration, Luther Billis (created by Myron McCormick). I saw what was the second or even the third cast--Kelly O'Hair, the original Nellie, is pregnant--and they were all wonderful. The current lead, Linda Osnes, probably is more convincing in this ingenue role than Mary Martin was in the original. I always think of Martin as Peter Pan, but we should recall that she made herself known by doing Cole Porter's edgy, naughty My Heart Belongs to Daddy. The male lead has the Pinza vocal heft and deep basso tone. But listen: There's Nothing Like a Dame, Wonderful Guy, This Nearly Was Mine (which I've always preferred to the more famed Some Enchanted Evening), and the delightful throwaways like Happy Talk and Honey Bun.

For opera folks, I took in the Met's Cav'n'Pag on my other open night. Roberto Alagna did both tenor roles and looks young and convincing, especially as Turiddu, and has the pipes for Canio as well. Alberto Mastromarino was listed to do Tonio, who does the famed Prologue in Pag, but filled in for an ill younger baritone listed to sing Alfio in Cav--filled is the word because he is huge. But his voice was good, as was everyone's and Nedda was convincing in the Bird Song and love duet--the reason it's so tough to cast even an Alagna in both tenor roles is that Canio seems to be the older husband insanely jealous of his younger wife. In Cav, it's basically the other way round and it's the baritone who's the jealous husband--in both stories, of course, for good reason! One thing happened that I'd never seen before: Mastromarino delivered such a strong note a few bars before the end of the Prologue that the audience burst into applause early. I'd never seen that happen, and the first baritone I saw in this role was the renowned Leonard Warren (in the first regular Met performance I ever saw). Waltraud Meyer was a superb Santuzza in Cav--despite having the stage manager plead for our indulgence before the curtain rose. Interesingly, she moves on to sing in Wagner's Ring now, including a Brunnhilde or two, I believe.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

The Jessup

This week I was a judge during three arguments (rounds) of the Philip C. Jessup International Law Moot Court Competition, which is the largest moot court competition in the world. More than 80 countries participate, with many more law schools and law programs represented. My trusty legal assistant, Dewi Savitri Reni, known as Vitri, from the project I ran in Indonesia for The Asia Foundation, competed in the Jessup when she studied law at the University of Indonesia, that country's premier law school, which is located in a suburb of Jakarta. She continued to stay involved as a team coach and this year as a judge; this brought her to Washington every March, which was a plus in itself, and she urged me to become a judge too.

The Jessup becomes a world unto itself. People compete and then keep returning as judges, bailiffs, general factotums, and coaches. There is a network called FOJ, Friends of Jessup, of which I am now one, because I had to join it to get the info on becoming a judge. Many participants of course become major legal figures in their countries so the networking possibilities are extensive. This Friday--when I will be out of town--there's a 50th anni dinner for the Jessup at the Reagan Building in Federal Triangle, with the U.S. judge on the International Court of Justice (ICJ), Stephen Schwebel, and the court's President, Rosalie Higgins, the guests of honor and principal speakers.

The competition itself turns on how two-person teams manage to argue the same case in each round. Every team has won one round, either a U.S. Super Regional, or a National in each country, to get to the Fairmont Hotel in D.C. I broke in by judging two arguments at the Mid-Atlantic Super Regional in February, held at George Washington University National Law Center. The case is artfully drawn and pits two nations against each other in the ICJ at the Hague. There are all sorts of great issues--can a country send troops into another if ethnic cleansing is feared, must the country that acts make secret intelligence available that ostensibly justifies the act, who is liable for sexual exploitation committed by troops ostensibly under the UN flag, and must an assassin of the president of the country taken over by religious extremists be sent back after he has been tried in absentia and sentenced to death under a death penalty re-enacted a week after the assassination.

At the Super Regional, I heard one good argument and one not-so-good argument, all by students at U.S. law schools, whose schools remain unknown to me, so as to preserve anonymity in judging. At these International Rounds, I heard one not-so-good arument, one fairly good argument, and one superb argument. One of these needed simultaneous translation of one side's argument from Arabic. The superb oralists from U.S. law schools--again, I know their names but not their schools--compared favorably to the great Supreme Court advocates I heard recently. They added the extras that make a presentation really click: presenting a solid and appealing theory of the case (especially when the facts of your issue are slightly weighted against you) or, in one especially clever touch, conceding a point where you feel that defending the client's position weakens the entirety of your argument.

I sat with a wonderful melange of judges from all over: a court lawyer from Accra, Ghana; a law school moot court director from Miami; a legal services agency head from Argentina; a lawyer based in Wasilla, Alaska (not a fan of his town's most famous resident); and a JAG lawyer in the U.S. Coast Guard. There was a lot of electricity in the air and sometimes vapors of something else--the hotel had to shut down the bar early last night when it turned out some underaged folks were being served. A warning email went out to all of us involved in the Jessup.

Who was Jessup? He was an American international law professor and scholar who became a judge on the ICJ in the 60s after a distinguished career that had him working with the legendary Elihu Root in the 30s. I'm afraid that that prejudiced me a bit against him if only because of the notorious prejudice of the white-shoe bar in those days, personified by Root, as it happens, and which persisted well into the 70s when I was in active firm practice only to disappear for the most part when law turned into a business. Take your choice--a profession stratified into firms organized by ethnic groups (well, white-shoe WASP outfits v. three-I-League ones, viz., Jewish, Irish, and Italian concerns) or one that has all the elevation of the market-place, which we have seen disappoint us especially this year. Conjures up William Allen White's "tribute" to the newspaper consolidator of his day, Frank Muncey, who "turned a once noble profession into an 8-percent security." Would that journalism were so profitable today as papers shut their doors daily.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Big Day at the Big Court

This morning I went to an argument at the Supreme Court for the first time in a few years. My appetite was whetted by a story in Monday's Washington Post. Early arrival was vital because this was one of the one or two major cases each year that packs the Supreme Court bar section located right behind where the attorneys make their arguments in the courtroom.

The case was taken from the Supreme Court of West Virginia and arose from a corporate battle between a big coal company and a small one. The big one lost in the trial court, so it went out and spent $3 million to elect a Supreme Court judge who would vote its way on the appeal. He did--they won, 3-2, in West Virginia. On to the Supreme Court of the U.S.

Should this judge have recused (taken himself out of) from the case? That was the issue--or, is there a constitutional standard that requires a fair trial with no probability of bias on the part of the judge(s)?

The biggest attraction of this argument, aside from the general interest of the case and point at issue, were the two advocates at the Supreme Court. Theodore B (Ted) Olson was Solicitor General under Bush I and is a very conservative lawyer at Gibson Dunn in Washington. Andrew L (Andy) Frey, formerly Deputy Solicitor General (in charge of criminal cases) for many years, and now at Mayer Brown, has also been a regular advocate. Ted Olson argued and won Bush v. Gore. Andy Frey managed to get the Supreme Court to adopt a totality of circumstances test in ruling on Miranda appeals and also got them to put a cap on punitive damages, in the interest of corporate defendants.

Uncharacteristically, Olson was arguing the "activist" (dare I say liberal?) side of this case, asking the Supreme Court to require a fair trial that means recusal of a judge who has the appearance or probability of bias. Frey argued the side of the corporation that put up the $3 million and argued that allowing this kind of required recusal would "open the floodgates" to these kinds of claims and that there was no constitutional standard here.

It was fun watching Olson have to deal with hostile questioning from Justice Scalia and Chief Justice Roberts, his usual compadres. Frey was put on the defensive mostly by Justices Ginsburg, Souter, and Stevens. Justice Kennedy tried to get both to answer his questions. Both advocates have the art of gently deflecting a question toward the answer they want to give down to an art.

The lineup of justices sounded familiar, including Justice Kennedy's searching for a viable middle ground to make, in effect, the decision. This did make the result harder to predict but it did seem that Olson had the better day at the lectern. He easily brought up relevant caselaw and seemed more at ease than Frey, who usually handles himself more smoothly.