2010

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"...to answer to the charge of sending an improper note in a bouquet of roses to Miss Edith Hall..." (Image by Jebulon.)

Either there is more than meets the eye to this story in the July 6, 1897 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, or everyone in the area temporarily lost their minds. The story is about a young dandy who became enamored with a lovely burlesque performer and tried to make her acquaintance. Then everything went haywire. An excerpt:

“Maurice Butler, a well-groomed and stylishly dressed youth 16 years of age was in the Grant street court this morning, accompanied by his father, Dr. William Butler of 507 Clinton avenue, to answer to the charge of sending an improper note in a bouquet of roses to Miss Edith Hall of 428 West Thirty-fifth street, New York, an actress at Bergen Beach, last night. The youth, when taken before Justice Steers to plead, said that he was guilty of the offense charged, but afterward, by advice of his father, withdrew the plea and the case was then adjourned until Thursday next. Dr. Butler signed the bail bond of $500. If young Butler desires to sow his wild oats and lead a gay life he is not likely to repeat his adventure of last night at the popular short resort. He said it was his first attempt to flirt with an actress and it would, he declared, be his last.

Young Butler, who was at one time a student in the Polytechnic Institute, went to the Casino at Bergen Beach last night to see Little Miss Brooklyn, the burlesque show in which Miss Hall appears as Miss Brooklyn. He had visited the place several times before and had become infatuated with Miss Hall, who wears white tights and is graceful and pretty. The young man carried a large bouquet of Jack roses in which, appeared later, was hidden a note requesting her to meet him after the show. Butler watched the performance with much interest and did not fail to applaud loudly when Miss Hall appeared on stage. Before the third act came to a close Mr. Butler sent the flowers to Miss Hall and awaited results. In the note alleged to have been written by him was a request that if the actress would meet him as desired she would wear the flowers when she next appeared on stage.

Not Edith Hall, but a fine representation of the old-timey burleque entertainer. (Image by trialsanderrors.)

When Miss Hall received the roses and discovered the note and the message therein she was quite overcome, but was not long in making her way to Percy G. Williams, the manager of the beach. She showed him the bouquet and the message and asked how to proceed in order to locate the writer. Mr. Williams called his son and asked if he could point out the person who had sent the bouquet, and when he learned that he told Miss Hall to go on with her part and not to fail to wear the flowers, as requested by the sender. She did so.

As soon as Miss Hall left the place she was approached by Mr. Butler, who raised his hat and greeted her pleasantly. The actress asked the youth if he had sent the bouquet and the note attached, and when he replied in the affirmative she invited him to walk toward the swimming pool. The couple had barely reached the swimming pool when Mr. Butler was torn from her side by a crowd of men, which he said this morning, he thought numbered fully one hundred, and was thrown into the pool. He was soused up and down for several minutes until Detective Betts of the Twenty-third Precinct appeared on the scene, and the crowd dispersed. He was assisted to the walk, his clothes soaked. Miss Hall promptly charged him with insulting her and he was treated to a ride to the Flatbush station house where he was locked up. That was at midnight.

Miss Hall was in court this morning to press charges against Mr. Butler. ‘When I left the Casino last night, I did so expecting to horsewhip that boy, but I did not get a chance. I did not know the men expected to give the boy a bath, and my only object in meeting him was to give him a whipping.'”

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Afflictor: Making women in burqas smile broadly since 2009. (Image by Rama.)

If Jane Goodall gets one more stuffed monkey as a gift, she will punch you right in the nose. She's nice, but stop.

Any list of the most significant people alive today would be incomplete without Jane Goodall’s name. Trained as a secretary in a time when women weren’t exactly encouraged to study science, she became one of the most significant anthropologists of her time. National Geographic has a celebration of Goodall’s five decades of work studying the Kasakela chimpanzee community in Gombe Stream National Park, Tanzania, putting its entire photographic collection of the scientist and her work online. (Thanks to boing boing for pointing me to the piece.) An excerpt from David Quammen’s excellent accompanying article:

A carving of David Greybeard, the first chimpanzee to befriend Jane Goodall.

Science history, with the charm of a fairy-tale legend, records some of the high points and iconic details of that saga. Young Miss Goodall had no scientific credentials when she began, not even an undergraduate degree. She was a bright, motivated secretarial school graduate from England who had always loved animals and dreamed of studying them in Africa. She came from a family of strong women, little money, and absent men. During the early weeks at Gombe she struggled, groping for a methodology, losing time to a fever that was probably malaria, hiking many miles in the forested mountains, and glimpsing few chimpanzees, until an elderly male with grizzled chin whiskers extended to her a tentative, startling gesture of trust. She named the old chimp David Greybeard. Thanks partly to him, she made three observations that rattled the comfortable wisdoms of physical anthropology: meat eating by chimps (who had been presumed vegetarian), tool use by chimps (in the form of plant stems probed into termite mounds), and toolmaking (stripping leaves from stems), supposedly a unique trait of human premeditation. Each of those discoveries further narrowed the perceived gap of intelligence and culture between Homo sapiens and Pan troglodytes.

The toolmaking observation was the most epochal of the three, causing a furor within anthropological circles because “man the toolmaker” held sway as an almost canonical definition of our species. Louis Leakey, thrilled by Jane’s news, wrote to her: “Now we must redefine ‘tool,’ redefine ‘man,’ or accept chimpanzees as humans.” It was a memorable line, marking a very important new stage in thinking about human essence. Another interesting point to remember is that, paradigm shifting or not, all three of those most celebrated discoveries were made by Jane (everyone calls her Jane; there is no sensible way not to call her Jane) within her first four months in the field. She got off to a fast start. But the real measure of her work at Gombe can’t be taken with such a short ruler.”

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I hardly ever repost anything, but I doubt most of you were readers in the early days of the site when I published this one. It still amuses me.

My pneumatic tube was destroyed by a tomahawk.

I got my grubby, ink-stained hands on a special supplement from the December 30, 1900 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, which bore the headline: Things Will Be So Different A Hundred Years Hence.” The papers’ editors used that section to predict life on Earth in the year 2000. Some of the prognostications worked out better than others, but the whole fascinating thing reads like an Onion parody. Here are the 12 most interesting headlines:

  • Liquid Air Will Open Up A New World of Wonders
  • New York To Be The World’s Metropolis
  • Interest In Music Will Increase Constantly
  • Mail By Pneumatic Tubes A Possibility For All Houses In Future
  • Women To Have The Ballot
  • Women To Be Homemakers
  • Base Ball, The National Game, Is Steadily Declining
  • Automobiles And Airships The Twentieth Century Vehicles
  • Man To Live Longer And Be Happier Owing To Use Of Plant Foods Only
  • Science May Find Means To Bring Dead To Life
  • International Court To Prevent War
  • Wars To Be Waged As Of Old: We Will Revert To Using Tomahawks And Shotguns

Read other Listeria lists.

Henry Miller: "I may die with a pen in my hands, but I would rather die with my arms folded and a seraphic smile."

Richard Young directed this 30-minute documentary in which infamous author Henry Miller shares a meal and conversation with actress Brenda Venus. The pair discuss taxes, the Nobel Prize, wine, the American worker, writers Blaise Cendrars and Marcel Proust and the beer drinking habits of various ethnic groups. Miller was 88 at the time the film was made and died the following year. The movie looks like crap, but it’s still worth watching. See it here.

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The worst of it lasted for only about five minutes, but a tornado ripped through my Park Slope neighborhood (and other parts of NYC) late this afternoon as the skies suddenly went black. I didn’t see EMTs attending to anyone, but there are already a number of serious injuries and one death reported. There was significant property damage as trees were uprooted and stores and cars had windows shattered. Sorry for the quality of the pictures I took with my cell phone, but it’s the only camera I had with me. If you’re in the area, please be careful while walking. Other trees and posts may be on the verge of falling.
Click on images for larger versions.


Firefighters clear the area around Brooklyn Industries on 7th Avenue and 9th Street. Two huge windows were blown in.

A large tree felled between 7th and 8th Avenues.

Trees that were downed on 6th Avenue, between 9th and 12th Streets.

Ralph Waldo Emerson: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."

The New York Times profiles the young, latter-day hippie couple, Taylor Bemis and Andrea Lieberg, who are currently caretakers of the Ralph Waldo Emerson House in Concord, Massachusetts. They’re 27, very sweet and a little clueless about the celebrated Transcendentalist, even though they seem like the type of people who would embrace his philosophy about individualism.

At any rate, here’s a brief description of the house’s history from Paige Williams’ article:

“Emerson and his second wife, Lidian, moved into the home in 1835. Over the next 47 years, they hosted a stream of distinguished guests at the house, fulfilling Emerson’s hope to ‘crowd so many books and papers and, if possible, wise friends, into it that it shall have as much wit as it can carry.’ Margaret Fuller, a pioneering feminist, spent hours talking with Emerson in his study. Louisa May Alcott practiced painting by copying the pictures that still hang on the Emersons’ walls. Henry David Thoreau lived with the family off and on for years and is believed to have stayed in what is now Ms. Lieberg and Mr. Bemis’s guest bedroom.

‘The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it,’ Emerson wrote.”

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Mining in Montana, 1889.

OLD WEST SILVER BAR – $500 (tx)

i present this wonderfull rare silver ingot/bar this bar is 6 ounces i do not take bank checks no scammers please i only ship with signature confrimation/tracking/insurace and i prefer we talk on the phone to insure trust before we do business togather. please SIRIOUS INQUIREYS ONLY

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New DVD: Afterschool

Ezra Miller has recently been on "Royal Pains."

Auspicious and pretentious, Antonio Campos’ 2008 drama Afterschool is about as impressively unsettling a debut as any filmmaker could hope to make. The writer-director was only 24 when he turned out this assured feature about the seamy underbelly of a prep school in the age of YouTube.

Blank-faced and nearly catatonic, Rob (Ezra Miller) is an unpopular underclassmen at a New York boarding school. He spends as much time as possible in the unhealthy glow of his computer, devouring bite-size samples of stupid pet tricks and degrading porn. Forced to choose an extracurricular activity, Rob opts for the video club and has camera in hand when twin sisters who are seniors at the school die after overdosing on cocaine. He and his classmates seem almost as interested in preserving the moment for posterity with cameras as they do in getting help. The troubled student is subsequently assigned to make a tribute video for the deceased students, which only serves to sink him further into a moral morass.

Afterschool isn’t wholly original; Gus Van Sant’s Elephant is only the most recent influence. But Campos, perhaps because of his young age as well as his abundant talent, is able to use what he’s learned from other directors to tap into the disquieting side of growing up in this voyeuristic age like no other filmmaker thus far has. (Available from Netflix and other outlets.)

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The following are anonymous photos taken in New Orleans during the 1930s by the Works Progress Administration. They’re not just some sad Depression Era pictures but show people with a lot of hope for the present and future. The WPA’s focus on health, art, construction and education often had that effect.

Staying healthy. March 5, 1941.

Studying radio. January 18, 1937.

Parish Prison literacy class. February 16, 1937.

Playing tennis. July 31, 1936.

Pontchartrain Beach. 1940.

If you force soccer players to wear binoculars, it is very difficult for them to see the ball that is right at their feet. But why would you do such a thing? Because you are Japan and you do whatever crazy thing you like. (Thanks to Reddit.)

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Most video stores charge about 50 cents a minute for tanning bed use. (Image by Evil Erin.)

The Hollywood Reporter has an odd and interesting article about the survival strategy of many of the 10,000 video-rental stores that remain in operation. Because of mail-order and streaming options from Netflix and Apple and rentals at cheap kiosks, the big-box rental places are gone or going. But more than a third of the indie stores that hope to survive the onslaught of online competition have added an interesting enticement: a tanning salon. The equipment isn’t cheap, but store owners are hoping it will draw in folks who’ll also buy lotions and rent a video. An excerpt:

At the rate big video-rental chains are closing up their shops, the 10,000 or so independently owned stores are getting creative to ensure they don’t suffer a similar fate. Combining movie rentals with tanning beds is one popular move.

More than 3,500 independently owned video-rental stores have added a tanning salon to their stores, estimated Ted Engen, president of the Video Buyers Group, an industry trade association.

A good tanning bed–one that consumers won’t mind paying about 50 cents a minute to use–can cost up to $15,000. Despite the hefty upfront cost and fattened energy bills, rental time combined with ancillary product sales like suntan lotion translate into a profitable business.”

"Between the acts he would inject cocaine into my nose with the assistance of a rubber tube."

Lillie Langtry, the British actress who died in 1929, may only be a name that sort of, kind of rings a bell today, but she was remarkably famous during her lifetime and for a considerable period thereafter. In the April 11, 1889 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Langtry, then in New York starring in The Lady of Lyons, shared an odd story with a local reporter who visited her dressing room at the Park Theater. Langtry related a tale about her doctor administering cocaine treatments to her between acts of plays. The same exact thing still happens on Broadway today, though there’s no doctor involved. An excerpt:

“‘I am not at all well,’ said Mrs. Langtry, as the reporter took the chair offered by the maid. ‘Still, I am feeling much better than I did a week ago.’

‘How do you account for so many leading stars breaking down this season?’

‘I was thinking of that very thing myself to-day. It is rather strange, isn’t it? I cannot imagine what the cause can be unless it is the mildness of the Winter. It seems quite remarkable and I don’t understand it. I do think, though, that on the whole we actors and actresses keep up wonderfully well when you consider the hardship we go through. We must plan out work six months beforehand and travel over the country in all sorts of weather. The public little know how we suffer sometimes, even in their presence.

When I was playing Lady Macbeth in New York a few weeks ago I could not breathe through my nose for eight days, owing to catarrhal troubles. I had my physician with me constantly, and between the acts he would inject cocaine into my nose with the assistance of a rubber tube. Of course the pain was very severe, but it wouldn’t do to let the audience know I had suffering. On one occasion I was carried from my bedroom to my carriage and managed to get through the evening without the audience suspecting that I was ill.

I should  like to warn ladies against using cocaine unless advised to by a physician. I kept spraying it up my nose to get relief and because the sensation was pleasant. But I soon discovered that it affected my heart and I had a narrow escape from nervous prostration. Now, I know that many of my lady friends are becoming habituated to the use of cocaine, and I wish to warn them before it is too late. It is one of those habits which creep up on people unawares.'”

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Newt Gingrich: Stole his head from an owl. (Image by Pete Souza.)

Newt Gingrich: What if [Obama] is so outside our comprehension, that only if you understand Kenyan, anti-colonial behavior, can you begin to piece together [his actions]? That is the most accurate, predictive model for his behavior.

Decoder: I’m mentioning the word “Kenyan” to feed the paranoia displayed by the Birthers. I’ve also just oddly criticized someone for being anti-colonial. In this day and age, who exactly believes that colonialism is a good thing?

Newt Gingrich: This is a person who is fundamentally out of touch with how the world works, who happened to have played a wonderful con, as a result of which he is now President.

Decoder: My con–the one where I pretended to be an expert on family values despite my many marriages and extramarital affairs–didn’t go quite as well.

Newt Gingrich: I think he worked very hard at being a person who is normal, reasonable, moderate, bipartisan, transparent, accommodating–none of which was true. In the Alinksy tradition, he was being the person he needed to be in order to achieve the position he needed to achieve…He was authentically dishonest.

Decoder: No matter how hard I try to paint Obama as some sort of scary black radical, it will never stick because he is so obviously a very middle-of-the-road guy.

Newt Gingrich: [Obama] is in the great tradition of Edison, Ford, the Wright Brothers, Bill Gates–he saw his opportunity and he took it.

It looked better on me. (Image by Resident Professor.)

Decoder: I’ve just compared Obama to some of the biggest capitalists in American history, which really muddles my argument. Also: What’s wrong with someone seizing an opportunity? That’s sort of the American way.

Newt Gingrich: I think Obama gets up every morning with a worldview that is fundamentally wrong about reality. If you look at the continuous denial of reality, there has got to be a point where someone stands up and says that this is just factually insane.

Decoder: You know what really was factually insane? Prior to Obama, we had eight years of a President who thought that Jesus rode around on a dinosaur. That never seemed to bother me then, so maybe I should shut the fuck up now.

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A Brooklyn building in 1897.

Taken from the 1897 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Rents are monthly.

  • $22: 7 rooms at 24 Grove Street. Good light and ventilation, janitor’s service and heat, in a fine and healthy location.
  • $23: 7 rooms at First Place. Artistically decorated, heated, janitor on premises, exceptionally beautiful neighborhood.
  • $25: 6 rooms at Washington Avenue near Fulton Street. Steam-heated, bath, janitor, convenient to trolley and elevated cars.
  • $25: 7 rooms at Clinton Avenue. Fine order, steam heated, excellent janitor service.
  • $30: 7-room suite at 172 Ralph Avenue. Free rent to December 1. Tiled fireplaces, refrigerators, first class in every respect.
  • $32: 6 rooms at 32 Ormond Place. Bath, open fireplaces, cabinet mantles with gas logs.
  • $32.50: 6 rooms one block from Prospect Park. Bath, steam heated, cabinet trim, open plumbing and all modern conveniences.
  • $40: 7 rooms at 404 Myrtle Avenue. Elegant, beautifully decorated, plumbing, fancy grates, onyx tiling, steam heat.
  • $45: 7 rooms at 90 Decatur Street. Bath, steam-heated, coal is furnished for the range.
  • $55: 8 rooms at 133 Montague Street. Elevator, steam heat, perfect order, near Wall Street ferry.

Glenn Beck: It's Murray Sunshine who threatens our very way of life. (Image by Gage Skidmore.)

He may be controversial, but you have to give that fat-necked scumbag Glenn Beck some credit. While the necrophiliacs in our so-called government are busy spending tax dollars on flag-burning fluid and members of the liberal media are having gay orgies on gunboats, Beck has singlehandedly uncovered one of the most dastardly socialist threats our country has seen in decades. And the most stunning news of all is that menace is present on our own land.

After tireless research on the computer in his office during a coffee break, Beck spent half of a recent episode of his Fox News show outing 92-year-old New York City resident Murray Sunshine as a dangerous radical on par with Osama bin Laden and the Taliban. Sunshine, a retired upholsterer who for decades did volunteer work as a community organizer, is apparently determined to destroy our sacred ideals.

“This Murray guy is a one-man Al-Qaeda, but the liberal elite doesn’t report it.” Beck said. “He’s the kind of dangerous operative leading the Obama Administration around on a leash. He is now infiltrating the government as he has previously infiltrated the education and legal systems. He is a threat to our once-great nation, which already needed to have its honor restored.”

Murray Sunshine: I met Gus Hall once. He wasn't as tall as you might think.

For his part, Sunshine isn’t denying the charges that he’s a card-carrying member of the Socialist Party, even taking out his wallet and showing the card to representatives of the media who gathered outside his Bensonhurst apartment.

“Oh sure, I’m a socialist,” Sunshine said with a smile, an evil socialist smile. “I have been forever. I still like to sit in the diner and read my Weekly Worker. And I have several buttons with slogans about laborers uniting.”

For many years, Sunshine registered voters in poor communities, trying to allow them a representative voice in their government, probably pleasing Castro to no end. He also worked in soup kitchens, gave out free turkeys at Thanksgiving and was active in maintaining a neighborhood public garden. Sometimes he would attempt to converse with recent Dominican immigrants in Spanish Harlem about Karl Marx and they would look at him funny.

It began to rain and as the reporters dispersed, Sunshine offered them an umbrella and bus fare, just the way Stalin taught him to.

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Oakland Mayor Ron Dellums is trying to reclaim some of his city’s history, hoping to gain landmark status for Bruce Lee’s famous Oakland martial arts studio, which has been an auto dealership for the last 25 years. The studio was long ago the site of hand-to-hand combat between a 24-year-old Lee and fellow Bay Area instructor Wong Jack Man, who was enraged that Lee accepted Caucasian students. It was the moment that Lee began to become famous. The following is excerpt from a Bay Citizen article about the encounter. (Thanks to boing boing.)

“It’s a Toyota dealership now. But 45 years ago, 4175 Broadway was the site of a kung fu showdown that changed martial arts forever. Bruce Lee, a 24 year-old dropout from the University of Washington had recently landed in North Oakland, where he opened a martial arts studio not far from Oakland Technical High School. The school quickly attracted students. It also made enemies. The Bay Area’s martial arts establishment vilified Lee for accepting non-Chinese pupils.

The beef came to blows when Wong Jack Man crossed the bay from San Francisco to fight in a pre-arranged match with Lee’s livelihood at stake. If Lee lost the bout, he’d have to close the studio. Depending on whose account you believe, Lee either won the fight, or it ended in a draw. But it was because of his experiences during this duel that Lee later developed the fighting style that would make him a worldwide legend, the style of no style.”

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An 1867 depiction of a Japanese prisoner being transported to his execution.

Only two members in the Group of Eight industrialized nations have the death penalty–the United States and Japan. While the U.S. has a very public and very conflicted relationship with executions, Japan’s process has long been shrouded in secrecy and the cause of very little internal debate. Hiroko Tabuchi of the New York Times has an amazing and horrifying article that peeks behind the protocol and mindset that governs Japan’s system of executions, which allows for no possibility of pardon, and is often administered to convicts who’ve been coerced into confessions. It’s always perplexing when an entire nation goes along with a system that is so deeply flawed and unjust, but it happens all the time. An excerpt:

Japan also has a 99 percent conviction rate, a figure critics attribute to widespread use of forced confessions. A series of false convictions have surfaced in recent months, including one of a 63-year-old man who had served 17 years of a life sentence for the murder of a 4-year-old girl. He was released after prosecutors admitted that his confession was a fabrication made under duress and DNA tests showed he was innocent. Critics say there is a high possibility that some of those on death row are innocent.

Inmates on death row are not told when they will be executed until the last minute–a procedure Japanese officials say prevents panic among inmates–and their family members and lawyers are informed only afterward, as are the news media.

Inmates can remain on death row as long as 40 years, though executions over the past decade have occurred on average after about 5 years and 11 months on death row, according to the public broadcast channel NHK. The Justice Ministry has refused to disclose how it makes decisions to go ahead with executions.

A large majority of Japan’s population supports capital punishment. A recent government survey showed that 86 percent of respondents are in favor of state executions for the worst crimes.

‘Any debate should take into account the lifelong suffering that the victims’ families must bear,’ said Isao Okamura, whose wife was murdered over a work dispute in 1997, in an interview with NHK.

All executions are carried out by hanging.”

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A lot of search engine keyphrases have brought readers to Afflictor during the site’s existence. But a keyphrase I found in the raw data this morning is easily the best one ever. It reads: “witch from sword in the stone looks like snooki.” I don’t really see the resemblance. I think it will be at least two or three years before Snooki looks like that. But you be the judge.

Stoned. (Image by Amy Nicole Waltney.)

"Sword in the Stone." (Image by Disney.)

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Marc Hayashi, far left in baseball cap, later played a doctor on one 1984 episode of Falcon Crest. (Photo by Nancy Wong.)

Wayne Wang’s black-and-white indie comedy is as much a shaggy dog story about the frustrating quest for authentic ethnic identity as it is a mystery that follows two Chinese-American cabbies searching for a man who has mysteriously absconded with their $4000. The title is a play on the name of the Charlie Chan character and the type of stereotypes that are missing from this charming if choppy film.

Jo (Wood Moy) and Steve (Marc Hayashi) are more curious than furious when an elderly man named Chan disappears with their hard-earned cash. They resolve to find him and begin pounding the San Francisco pavement, politely asking questions and following leads. But the pair can’t get anywhere because everyone they talk to has a different take on who the mystery man is: He may be a simpleton who can’t get out of his own way or a genius who invented the Chinese word-processing system. Or maybe he’s something else entirely. As they forge ahead with diminishing hope of seeing their money returned, Chinatown is gradually revealed in its many and surprising complexities.

In one scene, fast-talking Steve jokingly refers to himself as being like both Richard Pryor and Charlie Chan’s Number One Son. He’s come to realize that the missing man isn’t the only one who’s too complicated to easily define. (Available from Netflix and other outlets.)

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I came across this obituary for the pioneering lawyer Margie Ahearn in the September 26 La Jolla Light. The mother of six children, she came into her legal career later in life. An excerpt:

“Marjorie ‘Marge’ Fricke Ahern, a long time resident of La Jolla, passed away peacefully August 15, 2010, after a brief bout with cancer at the age of 86 years. She was preceded in death by her husband Jim on October 15, 2009.

Marge was born and raised in Altadena, California, and spent many happy summers on Catalina Island. It was there she met Roger Morehart whom she married in 1942, and had her first son Fritz Ahern who was born in Hollywood. Following the birth of her first son, she attended UCLA where she earned her bachelor’s degree in English and then taught elementary school in Brawley, CA, for several years.

After WWII, Marge met Jim, her husband of 58 years, on Catalina Island. They were married in Altadena, CA, in 1951, and lived in Long Beach, CA, where their five children were born, before moving to La Jolla in 1960.

In 1964, when the youngest of her six kids went off to first grade, Marge attended Cal Western Law School and became one of the first female attorneys in San Diego. She practiced law in La Jolla for several years and eventually moved her practice to downtown San Diego. She also taught legal aspects of real estate at a local community college. Marge loved her work so much that she was still going to her downtown office at the spry age of 84.

Marge loved to travel with her ‘buddy’ Jim and kept extensive journals of her trips. She was a voracious reader, a practice that she encouraged in her own children. Tending her garden, walking to Mt. Soledad cross, spending time with her family, and a gentle breaststroke in the ocean were her favorite ways to relax.”

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Combining airsickness and emphysema.

I don’t have any interest in miniature aircraft let alone an entire newsletter dedicated to aviation-themed ashtrays, but I’m always interested in the people behind any type of tiny obsession. This 23-page 1998 edition of Miniature Aircraft Quarterly, which displays photos and brief descriptions of more than 80 such ashtrays, is the handiwork of a colorful character named Geoffrey “GR” Webster. He publishes this periodical exclusively for the members of the International Miniature Aircraft Collector’s Society (I.M.A.C.S.). I found this self-penned bio about him online:

Geoffrey R Webster, or ‘GR’ as he is known in the collecting field, has amassed one of the largest collections of toy aircraft in the world. After serving in Vietnam as a combat pilot and double DFC winner commanding the Mustang Gun Ship Platoon of the 68th Assault Helicopter Company, he later graduated from the University of Chicago with a Masters Degree in Business.

He rose from a junior sales position to Chief Executive Officer of Givaudan Fragrances, with offices in Paris, Geneva and New York. In his spare time he founded The Miniature Aircraft Quarterly, a full color magazine and club for toy airplane collectors

In 2000, he was elected to the Fragrance Foundation’s Hall of Fame and retired at 55 to pursue portrait painting, raising a family, and collecting miniature aircraft. For eight years after retiring he owned and flew a Lake Turbo Renegade amphibious flying boat around the entire United States.

GR Webster lives mainly in France.”

More Miscellaneous Media:

  • Howeird Stern 50 Ways to Rank Your Mother LP. (1982)
  • A Knight’s Hard Day. (1964)
  • The Lowbrow Reader remembers Ol’ Dirty Bastard. (2004)
  • LP record about the 1972 Oakland A’s.
  • Madison Square Garden professional wrestling program. (1981)
  • Spy magazine. (1989)
  • Artis Gilmore ABA basketball card. (1973-74)
  • San Francisco cable car ticket stub. (1990s)
  • Bronx high school newspaper. (1947)
  • Mad magazine. (1966)
  • Vancouver Blazers hockey guide. (1974-75)
  • John Hummer NBA card. (1973)
  • Carolina Cougars ABA Yearbook. (1970)
  • The Washington Senators MLB Yearbook. (1968)
  • Ugandan currency with Idi Amin’s picture. (1973)
  • Tom Van Arsdale basketball card. (1970)
  • “Okie from Muskogee” sheet music. (1969)
  • California Golden Seals hockey magazine. (1972)
  • Beatles Film Festival Magazine (1978)
  • ABA Pictorial (1968-69)
  • Tom Seaver’s Baseball Is My Life. (1973)
  • Hockey Digest (1973)
  • World’s Fair Guide (1964)
  • World’s Fair Guide (1939)
  • Buffalo Braves Yearbook (1972-73)
  • New York Nets Yearbook (1976-77)
  • “Tom Dooley” sheet music.
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    The innocent victim of an Englishman.

    An Englishman visits Brooklyn, gets drunk, claims to be a Lord, provokes a fight with a pig and is arrested. Just another day in the borough in the 19th-century. A report from an October 8, 1885 article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

    “Tuesday afternoon, while Sergeant Brophy sat behind the desk in the east New York Police Headquarters, Roundsman Ringheiser conducted a fine specimen of a real, live, Englishman. He was awfully English, awfully drunk, and looked as if he had been trying to absorb all the rain that was falling. His high silk hat had been carefully brushed the wrong way, and his collar was on its way down to meet the yellow tops of his shoes, while his broadcloth coat and lavender trousers would have been very much improved by being passed through a clothes wringer. The roundsman found him on Alabama avenue, disputing with a pig as to which of them were entitled to a choice spot under a leaky hay shed. With all the dignity accessible under such distressing circumstances, the prisoner described himself as Lord Caufield.

    ‘But, my Lord,’ submitted Sergeant Brophy, ‘you are very drunk; you will have to go on the blotter as being drunk and disorderly.’

    ‘I know, your Honor,’ hiccoughed the distinguished prisoner, ‘but what could I do, you know, I was so wet outside that I had to even it up. I’ll pay my fine, you know.’

    At this point his lordship produced a large roll of bills. He was taken downstairs.”

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    "Aric, my scoundrel of a roommate." (Image by Pawyilee.)

    3 Hr Pedicab Tour of Central Park for Lawyer in Small Claims Court (Brooklyn)

    Aric, my scoundrel of a roommate, left without paying his May/June rent. I will be facing him in Small Claims Court in Brooklyn on September 15 at 6pm.

    In exchange for legal representation by a tri-state lawyer, I will do a 3 hour, 6 mile pedicab tour of the entirety of Central Park. I am a licensed tour guide and have been doing this for six years. I can take up to three people. I am usually paid around $300 for doing this full park tour. For more information, please go to Centralparkpedicabtours.com

    I am confident that I will win this case but I am just worried about thinking on my feet when I’m nervous and angry before the arbitrator. My evidence includes:

    • A scanned copy of the May check which was so badly written the bank wouldn’t take it.
    • A recording I made of him saying he wasn’t going to pay his rent and there was nothing I could do about it.
    • The testimony of another roommate who can confirm that ‘Aric’ lived there and payed $750 month. Aric also confessed to this roommate that he knew he was doing the wrong thing but figured he could get away with it.

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    A photo of Didion 30 years after this interview. (Image by David Shankbone.)

    This 1978 Paris Review Q&A with Joan Didion had a sad coda when the interviewer Linda Kuehl died soon after the tapes were transcribed. From what I can gather online, Kuehl, who was writing a book about Billie Holiday at the time, committed suicide by jumping from a hotel window. Didion, who’s written so elegantly on the topic of death before and since, filled in for the late interviewer and wrote the opening paragraphs, crediting Kuehl’s intelligence for making her at ease, not something easily done. A few excerpts from the Q&A.

    __________

    Paris Review: You have said that writing is a hostile act; I have always wanted to ask you why.

    Joan Didion: It’s hostile in that you’re trying to make somebody see something that way you see it, trying to impose your idea, your picture. It’s hostile to try to wrench around someone else’s mind that way. Quite often you want to tell somebody your dream, your nightmare. Well, nobody wants to hear about someone else’s dream, good or bad; nobody wants to walk around with it. The writer is always tricking the reader into listening to the dream.

    __________

    Paris Review: When did you know you wanted to write?

    Joan Didion: I wrote stories from the time I was a little girl, but I didn’t want to be a writer. I wanted to be an actress. I didn’t realize then that it’s the same impulse. It’s make-believe. It’s performance. The only difference being that a writer can do it all alone. I was struck a few years ago when a friend of ours–an actress–was having dinner here with us and a couple of other writers. It suddenly occurred to me that she was the only person in the room who couldn’t plan what she was going to do. She had to wait  for someone to ask her, which is a strange way to live.

    ___________

    Paris Review: What are the disadvantages, if any, of being a woman writer?

    Joan Didion: When I was starting to write–in the late fifties, early sixties–there was a kind of social tradition in which male novelists could operate. Hard drinkers, bad livers. Wives, wars, big fish, Africa, Paris, no second acts. A man who wrote novels had a role in the world, and he could play that role and do whatever he wanted behind it. A woman who wrote novels had no particular role. Women who wrote novels were quite often perceived as invalids. Carson McCullers, Jane Bowles, Flannery O’ Connor, of course. Novels by women tended to be described, even by their publishers, as sensitive. I’m not sure this is true anymore, but it certainly was at the time, and I didn’t much like it. I dealt with it the same way I deal with everything. I just tended my own garden, didn’t pay much attention, behaved–I suppose–deviously. I mean I didn’t actually let too many people know what I was doing.


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