Thank you, Squanto

Ah, yes. The day that all America gives thanks to the Lord (or for the atheists and agnostics gathering at their tables to thank themselves) for the many blessings we enjoy. The end of this year has been pretty tough on all of us but, despite the economic downturn, we still have much to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to in the future. As to the past, the one person that should be thanked above all, though, is Squanto. Squanto? You mean you don't recall the story of the Native American member of the Wampanoag tribe, who saved the original Pilgrims from what would have been their first and last winter had he not been, more or less, where they landed. The incredible story of Squanto is filled with good fortune, bad luck and redemption. Credit English explorer John Weymouth with getting Squanto to England, having him learn English and learn about "civilization." Squanto, captured by the Spanish some years later, had his freedom secured by the very same John Weymouth. He returned to his homeland with another captured Native American --Samoset -- only a few months prior to the Mayflower's arrival at Plymouth Rock. Because he knew of English society and spoke English, Squanto was an essential liaison to the native tribe there. It was Squanto who taught the Pilgrims how and what to farm, provided them pelts of beaver to keep warm, and gave them deer meat for sustenance. Squanto showed the Pilgrims, already decimated by disease and bitter weather, how to build round-roofed wigwams made of poles and flat sheets of wood. It was Captain Miles Standish who invited Squanto and Samoset along with their chief, Massasoit, to a feast that became known as the precursor to the first real Thanksgiving meal. There is so much I could tell you, but if you're interested in learning more, read this link.

Not just another crime statistic

There has always been crime in New Orleans. The term "Big Easy" was supposedly coined by criminals to describe how sweet the environment was for them to ply their trade. Much of the pre-Katrina crime had been linked to drug activity, although statistically many of the crimes reported by police were perpetrated as black on black crime. Occasionally, when white citizens were robbed or shot by black criminals, the news media invariably bordered on the verge of being inflammatory in the coverage of these opprobrious acts. We have always tolerated crime in a way that very few outsiders understand. It may be that it goes back to when Louisiana was first settled by those hapless criminals whose jails were emptied and those French women who had worked in the brothels. Many of them were exiled here to live a hard life beyond the protection of French society. Years later, buccaneers like Jean Lafitte operated in the open in nearby Barataria, unchecked by any police force. Lafitte, as many of you will recall, was so powerful that General Andrew Jackson enlisted him and his men in order to protect the city at the Battle of New Orleans. Years after the Civil War, the Louisiana Lottery proved to be as corrupt as any endeavor ever imagined by petty crooks, only on a grander scale. Perhaps, because of our history, successful criminals have garnered undeserved admiration for their plots and scheming. Following the exodus from Hurricane Katrina, when the city was emptied of all but non-essential personnel, there was virtually no crime. For weeks there wasn't even one person killed in a city known in the past as the Murder Capital of the U.S. As residents returned, however, the crime statistics began to inch up. Today I can tell you that the crime wave in New Orleans has now become more personal. My son called me to tell me that he had been held up at knifepoint on Friday evening at dusk. His wallet and cell phone had been demanded and he gave them up without incident. When the police responded, he gave them a detailed description of the offender -- a white male in his 40s wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey -- and assumed that it was the last time he would see his cell phone or his wallet again. Surprisingly, he got a call from the police Sunday. Apparently, the same perpetrator had attempted to try the same thing on Saturday night. This time his would-be victim got the upper hand and through sheer force or knowledge of martial arts stripped him of his weapon and proceeded to inflict serious harm to his body. When police were summoned to the scene, my son's description (he was still wearing the Dallas Cowboys jersey) came up. Not only did they have his weapon, but also a plastic bag found on his person contained my son's wallet (sans cash of course) and cell phone. The officers returned my son's wallet and cell phone and had him sign papers preferring charges against the perpetrator for aggravated assault. I have urged my son to take whatever measures are necessary to see that this lowlife is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. He is lucky and I am relieved (even though he didn't tell me about the incident until after the police had returned his possessions). As if to reinforce what I already knew, a new report by Congressional Quarterly says New Orleans is America's most crime-ridden city. Believe me, brother, I know. I know.

The Kennedy Assassination Mystique

Two score and five years ago, our country went through the worst kind of gut wrenching and soul searching that could be thrust upon any nation. I was just nine years old, but it was easy to comprehend the gravity of the mood of the people on that horrible weekend. Our president was dead and the person who police said did it was from New Orleans. Oh my goodness. I recall the time in my family was somewhat uneasy. My parents had enrolled me in public school for the first time earlier that summer. Coming from a military academy, Rugby Academy, I was finding the experience a bit trying for me, but I was showing good academic prowess in an environment which no longer emphasized uniforms or marching (yeah!). Then, on that fateful day I recall my teacher being very solemn after lunch. It was then that our principal announced over the loudspeaker that President Kennedy was dead and that we were all dismissed from class for the remainder of the day. Immediately I was concerned about how I was going to be going home with my sister, because my housekeeper Victoria was supposed to pick us up and walk us home at 3:00 o'clock. That was at least an hour and a half away. Unlike today, when time seems to breeze by, an hour and a half back them seemed like an interminable period of time. I seem to recall that we did meet up with Victoria, but I can't say for sure at what time. The next few days were a blur of historical figures and events. A Time-Life book I had in my library, "Four Days" documented it all. Unfortunately, like most of my library, it was lost in the flooding that followed Hurricane Katrina. I do vividly recall watching the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald over a live CBS feed on Sunday, November 24. The black and white imagery of the RCA television set is engrained upon my mind. Jack Ruby's attack on Oswald seemed to happen in slow motion, even though it was over with in less than three seconds. How ironic that Oswald died at the very same hospital as Kennedy within one or two rooms of one another. While the conspiratorial theorists may never be satisified, the evidence of Oswald's role as a lone assassin seems to bear more and more validity as the years drag on. Whether it will be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt also seems unlikely. Former New Orleans D.A. Jim Garrison was sure he had the evidence to link Oswald to others who had better motives, but as we know, he was never able to prove his suspicions in a court of law. Whether we think that it was Castro, the Cosa Nostra, or agents of the military industrial complex, the fact is nobody can ever state categorically they know the answer to this question. The main thing for all of us Americans to remember is that it should never happen again. It almost did in 1981 with Ronald Reagan. Thanks to Providence and a staff of "Republican" doctors, as Reagan joked in the ER, his life was spared, but it could just as easily have been a tragedy had the bullet trajectory moved just a little to either side. Two times before that it was Gerald Ford who surivived two different attacks within weeks of one another in September of 1975; the first by Manson desciple Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and 17 days later the second by Sara Jane Moore, who I am reluctant to admit was born Sara Jane Kahn, a Jewish housewife married five times with four children. In case you didn't hear, she was paroled last December, a year and a few days after Gerald Ford passed away from natural causes. Another Jew, Samuel Byck, also attempted to kill a sitting president in 1974, I am sorry to report. The half-hearted attempt involved hijacking a bus and crashing it into the White House in an effort to kill Richard Milhous Nixon, the 37th President of the United States. While I was never a fan of Nixon's politics, I would never condone such a lame-brained scheme (as were all of these latter-day attempts). Yet, the one defining moment for me, when the country lost its innocence was when J.F.K. died. The later assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy also had pronounced effects on me, but they were defined best as auxillary to the assassination of our youngest elected president. There was a numbness that overcame the nation on November 22, 1963 and I am not certain it has ever fully lifted, now 45 years later.

Justice the Judge Judy way

Some afternoons while I am repairing computers, scanning files or doing something else that requires infinite patience, I have been flipping on the TV to pass the time. Usually, there's not much on to see other than Maury Povich exclaiming "You ARE the father!" or "You ARE NOT the father!" It would seem, though, that I am becoming more enamored with the short shrift Judge Judy Sheindlin has been giving plaintiffs and defendants in her TV courtroom. "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining," was one of her favorite taunts that I recall several years back. Some of her other more snappy rejoinders have been "Want to know how you can tell when teenagers are lying?" followed by "Their lips are moving!" She is the epitome of the know-it-all Jewish mother, who knows what's right and won't stand for any foolishness on the part of witnesses or litigants in her court. Although I wouldn't want to settle any of my legal battles in front of her bench, I find it incredible to think that there are hundreds of others who think that they will get a measure of justice on a TV program, especially with someone who is so opinionated and intolerant. But that's what endears her to me, I guess, and makes for fun TV entertainment. Catching witnesses in lies is one of her best talents and I offer a word of caution to anyone who thinks they can pull one over on her. The operative catchphrase would be: forget it! She's way too crafty and, as she will remind those who enter her court, way too smart to let that happen. Sometimes, I must admit, I find her lack of tolerance a bit unnerving, especially given that a judge is supposed to be neutral before rendering a decision. It would seem that in most cases she has predetermined what her judgment will be. The dance that is seen in her court seems to be for her pleasure as litigants each try to get a word in edgewise, usually not quite as effectively as they would have expected prior to their appearance. I like her nasty demeanor in some ways, but I am repulsed by it in others. Oh, well, I guess it does pass the time and, after all, that's the only reason I am really watching it. Oh, yeah, I'm also looking for some snappy retorts like "Uh...is not an answer!"

The Big Three and Thee

Are there any people out there who still believe that what's good for General Motors is good for America? Those are the people who will no doubt support the $25 billion bailout package being sought by GM, Ford and Chrysler. Others, like me (and some members of Congress) have to question whether this is a wise move or more likely throwing money at a problem and hoping it will go away. The Big Three may become the Big Two or the Only One after this financial crisis resolves itself, but the industry has been in trouble for some time, hemorraging losses year after year as foreign car companies steadily captured more and more of the U.S. market. American consumers are not buying American cars as they once did. Credit Japanese and German carmakers with building a better, more fuel efficient series of vehicles that have left American car buyers clammoring for more of the same from their domestic carmakers. When gas prices were hovering around the $4.00 mark, those in fuel efficient gas-powered foreign autos or hybrids weren't exactly smiling, but they weren't wincing in pain like those driving American guzzlers. With the exception of a used Datsun that I drove back for a short time in the 70s following an accident and an ill-fated day that I bought a used Porshe only to have it fail, I have only owned one foreign car for more than a year, a Volvo. I don't believe there are quite as many American consumers who can claim that track record. Nevertheless, I can understand the need to move to a better, more efficient product. The American people have cast their votes with their wallets and pocketbooks. I believe that a handout is not necessary, but a hand up is. I am concerned about the possibility of American workers losing as many as two million jobs and the residual fallout from that. I'm also concerned about what those lost jobs could mean to local communities as car dealerships reel in economic disaster. The Big Three need to realize that the federal government doesn't want them to fizzle, but it's not willing to prop up failing businesses with wads of cash that will quickly evaporate. There's no doubt they would be back for another handout in short order. At $154 million per day in losses, it's time for the Big Three to start figuring out how they can work with the United Auto Workers, rein in these staggering losses, and come up with options on how they can maintain what little part of the marketplace they still cling to. These hard decisions will have to be made soon whether a bailout is possible or not. Perhaps the CEOs of the Big Three had this to mull over as they flew back to Detroit aboard their private jets, winging their way back to their boardrooms.

Fringe benefits and no bonuses

The New Orleans Fringe Festival closed out its inaugural run last night and with few exceptions, I found it to be an incredibly successful four days of theatre, dance and innovative experimental multimedia. I was blown away with the caliber of performances and by the numbers of attendees who gleefully paid their $7.00 per ticket to attend the shows at six different main venues and seven alternative venues organized by the artists themselves. For the first year, it proved to be a well-run venture that brought in many dollars to participating venues. Although I was only able to see three shows on Sunday in addition to the four on Saturday I had written previously (see "Scurry with the Fringe on Top"), I found the shows to be worthy and with sufficient production values to make the presentations enjoyable. Shows that I saw ran the gamut from dark comedies to experimental theatre. Le Chat Noir's "...in other words, New Orleans," started off the Fringe shows that I saw Sunday. The ten short one act plays focused on New Orleans and its recovery efforts. The cast was composed of ten talented local players, some of whom were writers like Vernel Bagneris ("One 'Mo Time") and Jamie Wax ("Goin' To Jackson"). Following that show I rushed off to see other Fringe projects in the French Quarter and Faubourg Marigny. "Danny the Diver and Luna" at St. Mark's Community Center was an incredible ballet of light, color and music produced by three overhead projector operators playing to a pre-recorded soundtrack. The three projectors would turn on and off in synchronicity providing brilliantly crafted concordance telling the two stories in seamless fashion on the large screen. I watched in amazement as they told their tales with the two file boxes of prepared transparencies, shifting them ever so carefully or rolling them across the face of the projector in concert with one another. Ponder one aspect of their artistic achievement, which is that everything they do is upside down. So, if a fish has to swim from top to bottom on the screen, it would be moved from the bottom of the face of the projector towards the top. Puppetry was the focus for the final show of the night. "The Tragical Ballet of Black Bonnet" was produced by a local troupe and was based on the true story of a Scottish kitchen maid born with...er...an extra set of plumbing.

Goldman-Sachs top seven executives decided today they would not accept bonuses this year. How benevolent of them. After all, they each make a base salary of $600,000, which would seem pretty high for most executives. Last year's bonuses ran $19 billion and was split between them, so their decision will cost them over $2 billion each. With the current financial crisis and recession (yes, we can say that word) in place, I am glad that somebody out there is admitting that this is probably not the time to accept payment for what might be considered disastrous fiduciary stewardship. Hard times demand sacrifices. Now if we can only get the top hedge fund managers to take a similar posture and give some of their bonuses back to their companies.

Scurry with the Fringe on top

The inaugural New Orleans Fringe Festival kicked off this past Thursday and already, before it's even closed down, it is a runaway success. With dozens of shows in nearly a dozen venues, the areas of Faubourg Marigny and Bywater have been blessed with fair weather and huge crowds at small houses that have been packed with eager theatregoers and aficionados of dance. The success of the New Orleans Fringe Festival in only its first year has got to be due to the diligence of its creators Kristen Evans and Dennis Monn. Monn is the artistic director, while Evans is the executive director. The two have assembled a Cracker Jack staff of mostly volunteers and patterned it after other successful Fringe festivals, the granddaddy of all located in Edinburgh, Scotland, where Fringe began in 1947. The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is known for dozens of street venues with performers putting on well-done original pieces or street performers doing their own eclectic thing. In any event the concept of a Fringe festival has spread like wildfire across the country. The New York Fringe Festival, for example, has garnered for itself quite a reputation for engaging and sometimes experimental theatre and there are several past entries at the New York Fringe that appear at this year's New Orleans Fringe Festival. This first festival has provided quite a number of quite reputable productions, each running about an hour in length. The price of pre-purchased tickets from the festival tent is only $5.00 each, but everyone has to purchase a $3.00 Fringe pin with any ticket purchase, so the cost is really $8.00. Tickets purchased at each venue cost $7.00, but the cost of a Fringe pin puts that up to $10.00. I must confess that I had not expected the large number of interested and attentive crowds that have attended all the shows. Some of the shows I caught on Saturday were "Galveston," a story about an old curmudgeon who considers himself "the greatest lover on the island" and his erstwhile 15-year-old "son" and best friend, whom he sends off to drown his girlfriend at her request so that she can be resuscitated and thus reborn. "Baby Boom" was a dark comedy that depicted a couple who find a machine gun in a baby basket left at their doorstop and who decide to raise it as their very own child. "The Last Castrato" was another dark comedy about a man born without genitals who loses it. The last show on my card Saturday was "Stripped," directed by Francine Segal and starring herself and Diana Shortes as Baroness Pontalba and Jennifer Pagan as an unnamed Latino who has come to the United States to better herself. It was a packed house for a show that started at 10:00 p.m., which is absolutely incredible when one thinks about it. It's great to see audiences enjoying themselves, but even better to see the talented ensemble that is New Orleans theatre showcased in so many different venues. Good luck to the Fringe and I can't wait to see what goodies they bring tomorrow and on into next year.