Father's Day Memories

Even on Father's Day--last Sunday--I don't find myself thinking that much about my dad. He did love being the center of attention, which he usually was. It wasn't just that he had jobs--with the performers' unions--that in those days were regarded as "glamor jobs". He had an outgoing personality, enjoyed life and his friends, even his family. He stayed in touch with many of his relatives--and like me, he had many--and he managed to see them because he traveled so much.

I thought of him today because someone was writing in Facebook about Liz Taylor's third husband--the one she didn't divorce: she couldn't because he died in a plane crash. Harold was one of about 15,000 invited to Mike Todd's incredible party at the old Madison Square Garden. This was an evening to celebrate Mike Todd, produced by the great producer and honoree himself. The last event on the evening's program was "Liz Cuts the Cake". 

It was the kind of spectacle that doesn't seem to happen these days, not that there's any reason it should. It was pure ego trip, but in a way, it now stands out as a never-to-be-repeated occasion and sort of charming in retrospect. They gave away all kinds of gifts to attendees but my dad reported that a few "guests" or non-guests helped themselves away from the spotlights. Down near the darker 9th Ave. end of the arena, he said, guys with moving men's straps were hoisting washing machines that were there, I assume, as prizes, and hauling them off with no one taking the trouble to check their credentials as likely would happen today.

I was along for another such night at the old Garden. It was the opening night of the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey circus, also now defunct. The evening was filled with special features not included on the three-times-a-day regular performances. Marilyn Monroe emerged riding an elephant dusted with some kind of pink substance now probably banned. Marlene Dietrich satisfied the dreams of many present when she appeared in red jacket and black leather pants and boots, carrying a large whip as the "ringmistress".

I was introduced to her daughter, Maria Riva, whose  bio of her mom I read when she published it years later. In those days the circus began with the animal acts--usually three huge caged rings featuring lions and tigers and bears--guess they got that idea from The Wizard of Oz. In those days, before the circus performance began, you could wander through the menagerie and side shows down in the Garden basement. If you went down the wrong staircase trying to exit the Garden, you might end up down there and could find yourself facing lions, tigers, and bears--all of whom looked hungry.

We went to benefits together--some in the Garden--where all kinds of performers worked gratis for the charity of the evening. I recall seeing the likes of Nina Simone and Joel Grey (well pre-Cabaret). Harold's work when he ran part of the performers' unions that handled benefits was to make sure that while the stars worked free of charge, non-headline performers were paid regular scale. While his tickets were always Annie Oakleys, his main purpose in attending was to make sure the charity heads or promoters knew that someone was keeping an eye on their management.

Exclusion--A New Play

Exclusion, by Kenneth Lin, has been playing here in D.C. at the Arena, where we saw it Friday night. The promos said it was about the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, by which all Chinese in the U.S. were told to depart and there was no immigration quota for Chinese people until 1943. That, by itself, didn't necessarily portend a great theatrical experience, if the theme was merely that the U.S. for many years was definitely employing a racist immigration policy against Asians.

However, although the theme as it turned out did fit a pattern of previous dramas--David Mamet's Speed the Plow is one example, it made for a good evening of dramatic theater. An actress who goes by the one-name identity of Karoline plays a writer, Katie, who has published a book about and against the Chinese Exclusion Act. It has been optioned by Hollywood.

The opening scene finds her in the office of a Hollywood deal man--a producer--who is seeking to get it produced as a streaming series. He has the slippery feel of so many of his kind who have been portrayed on screen, stage, tv, and streaming. Gradually, Katie senses that her screenplay she adapted from her book is going to be massively rewritten and reshaped in the highly anticipated manner that so often is the way this process pans out.

The way this impacts on Katie and her partner, Malcolm, however, proves to be the most interesting part of the play, because it's less predictable. In fact, although the deal man, Harry, is well played by Josh Stamberg, but after a while, one only expects him to move further in the direction described by one critic: "But when a Hollywood bigwig named Harry (Josh Stamberg) and his associates strip the series of historical accuracy and fill it with racist stereotypes, Katie reassesses her Faustian bargain." 

The play is a problem play in the best Shavian tradition, although Arena has labelled it as one of the Power Plays it is presenting, which appears to mean that it explores how power affects the lives and careers of marginalized groups as it "delves into how Hollywood misrepresents, suppresses and distorts Asian American history."

I thought the play was generally successful in what it set out to do and provided a good dramatic experience. It would be excellent if it received more productions so its presentation of history and how it is received today can be transmitted to a wider public.

'Reviewing the Situation'

Most of us prefer to put off fretting about funerals.  This often unhappy topic arises now because I attended two such events this week--one a Catholic funeral mass for a man who was a memorable character and the other a memorial service conducted under secular auspices for a wonderful woman, stepdaughter of a close friend, who passed away far too early at 45.

I realized how the person leading the proceedings--religious or otherwise--makes all the difference in how you feel after the occasion. There was nothing exceptional about the content of the religious ceremony itself for my friend in his 60's, who died overseas on a bike trip of a sudden heart attack, except for the unusually perceptive eulogy delivered by one of his daughters, who happens to be a veterinarian, and who noted that he father had encouraged her interest and love of animals.

The deceased had a powerful personality, often expressed by slapping me (and others) on the back when he entered a room where I was present. I thought of the character played by Jackie Gleason on his television show: Charlie Bratton, "the Loudmouth." He would loudly enter a lunch counter eatery and seeing Art Carney eating lunch at the counter, playing a completely meek colleague, would slap him on the back and ask at high volume: "What's that slop you're eating?" 

Nevertheless, my friend was a good-hearted guy, who worked for many years in addiction counseling and management. Only a few years before his sudden death, he had set out to earn his Ph.D. and managed to do just that quite speedily. He was someone who was more than helpful in threshing out a problem I or others might have.

Most significantly, this service benefited from the all-around encouraging and pleasant attitude and bearing displayed by the priest presiding over the mass. He is a Monsignor and he made everyone--including those like myself who are not Catholic--welcome and included. It happened to be a day where in the Baltimore-Washington metro area, the air quality reached Code Maroon, the highest level of bad air quality which had not been reached within living memory. The Monsignor twice referred to the air situation outside when he observed that this was not a day for an outdoor service and that in view of the air, he would forego ending the mass with the traditional incense. He then announced he would substitute a "Jewish Kaddish prayer".

That did take me by surprise as I mused to myself whether he was about to burst into the Hebrew text that is recited near the end of most Jewish services by mourners. In lieu of the now-vanished Latin in the church, Hebrew? As it happened, it was a prayer in English that speaks in the voice of the departed and asks those present to remember the departed one in all seasons. 

The service for my friend's stepdaughter was held at the private school which she attended and was where she made many life-long friends. (My daughter attended the same school seven years later.) The school clearly meant a great deal to her because of all those strong and lasting friendships. Two of her closest college friends spoke about how much they enjoyed living and playing on teams with her, and a high school friend told of how much she had gained from the relationship. The women did keep noting that there were limits on their public recollections because of "appropriateness." Husband and brother spoke, and her brother by adoption spoke with quiet eloquence but briefly about how she had welcomed to him to the family. 

She had spent her career in special needs education, dealing with autism, in particular. Seeing how she had brought so much pleasure, humor, and good feeling to everyone she had known, I found the testimony of her colleagues at the school where she taught and helped administer very believable and moving. 

It brought to mind another post-funeral colloquy. This occurred outside St. Patrick's in New York between two teammates of the late Babe Ruth, whose funeral it was. One player said it was so hot outside the cathedral on this Manhattan summer day that he would really like a cold beer right then.

"So would the Babe," responded his teammate.

 

'You Hurt My Feelings'

You Hurt My Feelings is one of those pictures that is worth seeing despite its having enough shortcomings to keep it from being excellent. Julia Louis-Dreyfus rarely disappoints me. She was the one of the Seinfeld crew who made you feel good. I haven't seen everything else she's done but she carries this pic. In my view, the theme of the movie was not the title but instead might have been better expressed as "everyone's lying to everyone else." 

There's also a heavy dose of reality in the theme, which alternatively could be "none of you are as good at what you're doing as you think you are." Tobias Menzies, as Don, Louis-Dreyfus's husband to her Beth, keeps telling her that her new book is superb. Her sister Sarah tell her actor husband Mark that he's coming across wonderfully in his rehearshals for the new play he's in. Beth tells her son that he's great at everything he does in school and out. 

Don, a therapist, tells his subjects that they have to fix their own problems. It's not entirely clear what his role is. Soon enough, they all find their false images crashing down in disaster. Only Sarah seems to have a level head of sorts and she is surprised when something turns out right for her. Jeannie Berlin plays the mother of the two sisters and has a fun time in a clichéd role in which she offhandedly aims to undermine their aspirations. (I recall her as Charles Grodin's new bride in The Heartbreak Kid,where she was memorable, particularly in making a mess of consuming an egg salad sandwich. I believe she's Elaine May's daughter.)

Things turn around a bit too patly, à la Hollywood. Nicole Holofcener, the director, writer, and producer, does almost make this seem like one of those introspective French films, but this isn't quite an Eric Rohmer episode. Maybe something like a Wes Anderson pic. There's some dragging moments, but in 93 minutes, not that many.

Doing Detroit

I've been to Detroit before. I visited some friends from collestadiage who now were pursuing graduate degrees at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and recall my one and only trip with them to Tiger Stadium, which I remember as a classic old ballpark. It had its own peculiar design features and had the nice flavor of an old stadium--it had previously been known as Briggs Stadium and Navin Field. On a later trip when we were showing my daughter campuses all over, we also took in the new ballpark. Comerica Park, which I remember as one of the better-designed new stadia. 

This time, the Tigers left on a road trip the day before we arrived, so no ball today. But I did see for the first time the Detroit Institute of Art, which is one of the fine museums in the U.S. The collection is solid, and I only took in the large American art section and the significant early European (Renaissance and Medieval) as well as the Dutch Golden Age. There also are good modern and contemporary galleries. The museum also has strong Egyptian and Greek and Roman divisions. 

As with other older Midwestern cities who boasted well-heeled captains of industry in their day but now have often fallen on more challenging times--St. Louis is another--the late 19th and earlier 20th century movers and shakers, used their wealth to endow the arts. So Detroit's art museum holds both superb examples of various great artistic periods and enough of an endowment to acquire newer masterpieces--or paintings they hope will become such.

The DIA can also claim to have the finest set of Diego Rivera murals installed on the four walls of a huge hall. Unlike New York, where some of Rivera's finest murals, in the newly-built Rockefeller Center, were destroyed by the supposed art aficionado Nelson Rockefeller because he wouldn't tolerate Rivera's clearly left-wing political flavor imparted to his murals, the Detroit aristocracy recognized or decided to live with Rivera's magnificent modern-day frescoes.

There's also a room of Rembrandts, usefully sharing the gallery with works attributed to his workshop or his school. The real Rembrandts are wonderful,  but in this display, it was fascinating to see how he influenced his closest followers. The representation of other Dutch artists like Frans Hals and the great landscape painters, such as Van Ruisdel and several others, is also strong. Later great painters such as Van Gogh, Gauguin, and especially Cezanne, are present with truly superb examples of their work. The curators assembled a very comprehensive gallery of Picassos, from the Rose and Blue periods,all the way through the next several decades. 

We also went through the Motown Museum, chronicling the origins and triumphs of that marvelous musical enterprise, from Smokey Robinson and Martha Reeves and the Vandellas through the Supremes, Stevie Wonder, the Temptations, the Four Tops, and so many others. Music fills the air as you see where Berry Gordy started the operation and brought it to its peak. I found it wonderful that not only did the late Michael Jackson donate his famous black fedora and jeweled glove, but accompanies them with a $125,000 contribution to the museum. It also was illuminating to learn about all the supremely talented behind-the-scenes talent that made the continuing Motown production of a seeemingly endless procession of hit songs and stage shows as well as films happen.

We dined at a magnificent old mansion restaurant, the Whitney, which offered a nice seafood boil served out in its garden. I did consume a "Coney Island"--Detroit's version of a hot dog, loaded with kethup, onions, mustard, and chili. Overdone in the view of this original Coney Island chauvinist: having a dog with strong deli mustard and hot sauerkraut at the first Nathan's on Surf Avenue remains for me the sine qua non of hot doggery.

FDR--Another Depiction

A good friend recommended that I watch the docudrama on FDR on the History Channel. I’d seen the one they’d done a while back on Grant, which was good. The one on FDR, however, left me feeling that while it likely illuminated FDR’s amazing career for many who had not really known much about him, it added little new to what we generally are aware about his life. 

That he was one of the very best presidents—I’d rank him with Lincoln and Washington—is clear. Those who didn’t like him were political and economic opponents he rightly labeled “economic royalists” (in a marvelous speech where he “welcomed their hate.” He saved the nation economically and probably politically as well. He also did more than anyone for the now truly benighted middle class. 

And he was aware of what was happening worldwide during the 1930’s and also that eventually the isolationist-focused USA would have to take the lead in demolishing the Axis powers. He knew, too, that the US was not yet ready to follow him in supporting the last holdout in Europe—Britain. During World War II, he also knew that he didn’t have the political backing to open the immigration gates to refugees who met their deaths when they were unable to get to the US. 

The History Channel program suffered from mixing historic photos with acting by performers who did not at all resemble, for example, either Franklin or Eleanor Roosevelt. It lent an air of strangeness to the docudrama because one of FDR’s strongest attributes was his distinctive voice and how he used it. This was also true of Eleanor: often today, her voice sounds wildly high-pitched and more aristocratic than even FDR’s, but that added to her amazing ability to win over audiences and represent the often-unrepresented. 

The program, however, did discuss FDR’s ability to work around obstacles even by subterfuge. I’ve just spent a few days in Detroit and happened to find a reference in the list of tourist sites to the National Shrine of the Little Flower Basilica in Royal Oak, Michigan. Some may recall that this was the pulpit of the more than notorious priest, Charles Coughlin, who is remembered today as one of the major demagogues of the 1930’s. 

Coughlin changed his political views a number of times, moving from being pro-FDR to being an America Firster. He was opposed to communism, socialism, and, yes, capitalism, because he claimed to speak to and for the working class. He never changed his rampantly antisemitic views and acquired a radio audience that amounted to many millions. 

 

When his demagoguery became both more extreme and seemingly popular, FDR took steps against him. He sent Joseph P. Kennedy to see what could be done to get the Catholic Church hierarchy to deal with Coughlin. The Bishop of Detroit had been a Coughlin supporter but when a new bishop (later Cardinal) Mooney was installed, he was inclined to limit Coughlin’s activities other than his serving as a parish priest. 

But FDR didn’t rely solely on Kennedy. He also drew in Bishop (later Cardinal) Spellman of New York and Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli, soon to be Pope Pius XII. These were all, including Kennedy, extremely conservative men, but they responded to FDR’s efforts, and Coughlin was off the air by the late 30’s. All of this was done quietly but apparently most effectively. 

Many of his maneuvers were mentioned on the program—such as FDR’s inviting King George VI and Queen Elizabeth to an American-style picnic at Hyde Park when they visited in 1939. It noted that the King was not a fan of hot dogs but went along with saying how much he liked them. And most significantly, it propounded FDR’s genius for using language and images that the public could grasp and accept. A great example was his likening Lend-Lease supplying Britain with desperately needed planes and tanks to one’s coming a neighbor’s aid when his house was on fire by providing a garden hose. 

We will never have a president like FDR again, because today, the media would depict him as too physically-challenged for the job. He was the man who rose to the occasions—both the Depression and World War ii. It is tragic that we have not seen his like since his passing in 1945.