Where is Alan?

Well, Carnival activities have been fast and furious and I apologize to my faithful readers (all two of you) that I haven't had much of a presence lately. Between regular (or irregular as it were) work responsiblities and taking care of Carnival balls and tableau manuscripts, I have been a busy camper. It doesn't get less busy in the next two weeks. If anything can be said, it really gets ramped up and more frenetic until the big day, February 24. Mardi Gras is only one day, but we have a side economy built around it down here. The $1 billion it generates is nothing to sneeze at and, besides, it's so much more fun that one can ever have doing anything else. So, if you are on the street, look for me at Gallier Hall where I will be announcing several parades. If you happen not to reside in or around New Orleans or weren't planning on joining the festivities, my only question to you you is what's keeping you? A happy little phrase says it all: "laissez les bon temps rouler!" (which means "let the good times roll!").

Rubashkin is released and Best's is bested

A while back I expressed discomfort with a court ruling that kept Sholom Rubashkin in jail while awaiting trial. While there is no doubt that Rubashkin faces serious charges and is a considerable flight risk, the former manager of the Agriprocessors kosher meat plant in Postville, Idaho was used as a pawn in a game whereby his mere religious affiliation as a Jew was used to deny him bail. The prosecutors alleged and a judge agreed that Rubashkin would automatically use Israel's "right to return" and flee the jurisdiction of the court. That meant that every Jew, no matter how guilty or innocent, could be denied bail because of the policy of an outside nation. Somehow this strikes me as inherently wrong and another judge agreed with me because Rubashkin was granted release on $500,000 bail at the end of January. The Rubashkin crisis in the kosher meat industry has caused many an observant shopper to mutter aloud "oy vey" as some grocers and distributors switched affiliation from Agriprocessors products in reaction to the allegations leveled against them. A number of products literally disappeared from grocer's refrigerators and freezers. Chalk up another loss in this ongoing crisis. Sara Lee, the parent company of Best's Kosher meat label has decided to kill the company it acquired not so very long ago. This means that one of the best kosher salamis and hot dogs around will no longer be purchased nationwide. It seems so sad for those of us who were faithful consumers, but such is the way of this economy. I am certain we will see more fallout in the future when one day we may echo a famous TV commercial: "Where's the beef?"

Super Weekend

This weekend has been fairly exciting, but not for the reason that might jump to mind for most people occupied with the big game in Tampa. There is Super Bowl fever across the country, but it is mitigated here in New Orleans. The reason? Two words. Mardi Gras. No, don't check your calendar. I haven't lost it all completely. The date for Fat Tuesday is still February 24; that hasn't changed. But the hoopla leading up to the big day has taken off this week with the first of several weeks of Carnival balls I will be narrating. The first one occurred Friday with the Krewe of Iris, the oldest woman's krewe in Carnival founded in 1917. Celebrating a 92nd birthday at the Pontchartrain Center in Kenner, the krewe members, royal court consisting of maids, dukes, king and queen took part in a tableau titled "On the Road Again." The event ended at 10:30 p.m., but the night was still young. The krewe sponsored a "supper dance" that began at 12 midnight across town at the New Orleans Hilton Riverfront Hotel. After the royal court was introduced (shortly after 12:30 a.m.), the dancing and music provided by local legend Bobby Cure and the Summertime Blues -- the guys who played at my wedding back in 1984 -- continued until the meal was served. That was sometime around 1:30 a.m. Dessert was served around 3:00 a.m. Anyone who doesn't live in New Orleans will never fully comprehend what this whole thing is about, but trust me, once you're sucked into it, you never fully recover.

Rabbit At Peace

John Updike, the erudite novelist and poet who garnered admirations and envy among his peers and pleasure from his multitudes of adoring fans, passed away yesterday. He was, to be sure, a writer among writers and his most well-known novels ("Rabbit Is Rich" and "Rabbit At Rest" won Pulitzer Prizes 30 years apart from the other) guaranteed his star to be firmly placed in the firmament of literary giants. A tireless author, Updike churned out at least one successful novel year after year. He did so with so little apparent effort that he created enmity among his equals. But don't blame Updike. He clearly couldn't help himself. A chronicler of American adultery, Updike once admitted that if he hadn't exhausted the topic, "it clearly has exhausted me." Many of you will recall his "Witches of Eastwick" was converted into a successful movie, although the follow-up "Widows of Eastwick" didn't capture lightning in a bottle again. I was amazed at the length and breadth of Updike's prolific output. He was an inveterate reviewer of other authors and the arts and on several occasions released volumes of short stories in addition to his lesser known poetry. Unfortunately, all of my Updike collection (like nearly all of my library) was lost during the flooding that followed Hurricane Katrina. Yet, I still remember them and Updike's highly stylized writing. I will treasure their memory as well as the writer responsible for them. Updike, a victim of lung cancer, was 76.
Thank you, Congress. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. After alerting everyone about the impending changeover to all digital broadcasting the other day, the wise men and women of Congress decided to push back the switch until the summer, making my scribblings seem somewhat unnecessary. While our rabbit ears are safe for now, I wouldn't get too complacent. Time marches on and digital will be here soon enough.
And now a personal word to my mother, Annette, who today celebrates her 77th birthday. Have a happy birthday. I know that if her birthday is here, Mardi Gras can't be very far off. Indeed, it is less than a month away and the Carnival ball season is into full swing this weekend.

Bye-bye rabbit ears (not you, Bugs!)

With the impending demise of broadcast TV, I am thanking my lucky stars that I am the owner of a satellite system. (If you wonder which one, it rhymes with "wish TV.") In a little over three weeks the era of analog broadcasting will cease and the beginning of exclusive digital broadcasting will begin. What that means is that all of those rooftop antennas that were formerly perched on rooftops in the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties are now about as pertinent as fins on the backs of automobiles. It also means the effective end of the interior TV antenna, better known as rabbit ears. About a year ago, I purchased a small black and white TV set at a drugs store for less than $20. I intended to keep it in my kitchen in order to keep me engaged while I was preparing breakfast or dinner. It would appear that its days are numbered because the only way it would receive broadcasts after the switch to digital would require the hookup of a digital receiver. In case some of you haven't been checking, the cost of those darlings is quite high. The federal government has promised discount certificates for those who will be hard hit by the switch, but the program that ensures the availability of funds has run out of money. That translates into huge costs to the consumers who have not made plans prior to the switch to continue receiving TV broadcasts in digital. I'm not spending $100 or more to continue to receive broadcasts over a $19 unit. Besides, there aren't nearly enough electric wall receptors in my kitchen. Are there ever really enough in any kitchen? But for those of us who are presently receiving cable or satellite TV broadcasts in our homes, we are spared the problem. We will notice not one scintilla difference after February 17 than what we have now. Of course, we'll also have those fairly high bills that come with those services. At a time in our nation's economy when we should be conserving money, we're still spending it with abandon when it comes to TV reception. As a child, I remember growing up with only four TV channels to view, one of them a PBS affiliate. Later, there were two more UHF channels added to the mix and I thought I was in TV heaven. Today I have 100 channels to view, but several of the ones I viewed with my pre-Hurricane Katrina cable service are not included in the satellite TV package I chose. So, Turner Classic Movies, Bravo and American Movie Classics are not available unless I want to upgrade to a more expensive package. For the package I receive today I spend almost $500 a year. That seems a lot higher than my comfort level, considering the broadcast TV signals I received growing up cost me nothing. I no longer receive cable broadcasts (in case you're wondering, it rhymes with "pox cable") because the monthly bills, which used to be less than $20 per month including HBO, climbed to almost $50 per month with no premium channel. But think about the incredible progress we've made. Aside from the now six local channels from which I can choose, I also have huge numbers of home shopping selections and hundreds of channels that I can see on my guide. Unfortunately, most of them require an upgrade in service in order for me to see them. As it turns out, I am usually only viewing only a few more than the local TV channels under my present contract. It seems that most of the time I am consoled watching "Law and Order" in its various iterations, "Monk," "Psych" and "Burn Notice," the last three of which are USA Network programs. Despite their popularity, I haven't been much of a "24," "Desperate Housewives," "Gray's Anatomy," or "American Idol" fan, probably because my schedule is such that I can't devote that much time to watching programs on a regular basis. When all is said and done, I'm so lucky I don't have to worry about receiving that pesky "free" broadcast TV anymore. Besides, look how much more beautiful my interior is without those horrible rabbit ears. It's a giant leap for mankind, don't you think?

WTUL alumni unite!

Talk about reunions. I'm not sure how this developed, but apparently there is a movement afoot to invite alumni from my college radio station -- WTUL -- to visit the present station's campus location in order to commemorate 50 years of broadcasting. There's even a new Facebook page that was created to help facilitate this. It's shaping up to be a most promising opportunity to visit with many of my old broadcasting compadres, but I'm not sure how well we all have weathered the 30 or 40 years that have intervened. Back when I attended as a freshman, the radio station broadcast over AM carrier current at 550 Kilocycles. The way the station worked was via telephone lines from the studio connected to small transmitters that would "broadcast" through the wiring in each building. Several of the dormitories had transmitters, which allowed any radio receivers plugged into the electrical service to receive the station at 660 AM. It was also possible to receive broadcasts while driving through the campus, but reception was poor at best. Then, the station made the leap from AM to FM and broadcast over a small 10-watt FM exciter. It was a giant leap for our tiny alternative radio station, which in its early days only broadcast folk music or other acceptable musical forms. Later, as an FM facility with higher power, it became a favorite of the city's younger listeners who shied away from commercial broadcasting. WTUL-FM eventually achieved over 3,000 watts of power in its early days of citywide broadcasting at 91.5 MHz over an antenna array perched above Monroe Hall, some 120 feet high on the uptown campus. The day of the conversion from low to high power took place in 1976, some two years after my administration as General Manager ended. It was my job to pick up U.S. Representative Lindy Boggs to come to the studio and flip the switch that initiated the higher power broadcasts. I remember picking her up from her Bourbon Street apartment in the heart of the French Quarter and driving her to the uptown studio in my brand new silver Ford Granada. I note that Lindy enjoyed a great career in Congress for many years beyond that event, eventually becoming Ambassador to the Vatican. In terms of her years of service, it is doubtful her ceremonial work with a campus radio station on that day registered very high. But, who knows? Perhaps it did make an impression. There were other great events at WTUL. Who can forget the Rock On Survival Marathon that was held during the height of the streaking craze? I recall a very well known attorney who, as a student, happily stripped and streaked across campus during the outdoor event on the University Quadrangle adjacent to the University Center. There was also the event I organized in 1973, the Raise the Bastille Radiothon, a benefit for Parish Prison's Inmate Welfare Fund that was held at Orleans Parish Prison. Some of the guest performers for that 24-hour event included Dr. John, the Meters, Professor Longhair, Chris Kenner, Robert Parker and Jesse Hill. How I wish I had a copy of that tape! And who can forget the times we interviewed celebrities in the studio like a very impaired Dr. John, two members of the Firesign Theatre, Rob Krieger of the Doors or remotely recorded rock personages like Ronnie van Zandt from Lynrd Skynyrd? Then, again, I remember meeting actors Vincent Price, Leonard Nimoy, Deforrest Kelly and William Windom among others, who all were encouraged to record promotional spots for the small campus radio station. Our logo was a little guy chipping away at a large rock (some said "chipping away at the rock of New Orleans," a reference to a large commercial FM outlet). Today, thanks to Hurricane Katrina, that commercial station isn't even broadcasting rock music and much of what WTUL-FM broadcast as "alternative" is now considered "classic rock." I must admit that much of what is broadcast today over WTUL-FM bears little semblance to what we broadcast back in the Seventies and Eighties. But, then again, we broadcast music that might have offended our earlier predecessors over the AM carrier current station. My "Oldies Show" was one of the most popular shows, held each Saturday night. Back then my only stipulation was that in order to be an "oldie," the song had to be a minimum of three years old. Such is the nature of broadcasting, especially as it relates to students, whose musical tastes are mercurial at best. Interestingly enough, my son is a senior at Tulane and his iPod is filled with songs I used to broadcast over the campus radio station. I wonder if the popularity of many of these songs wasn't helped along in some way by enthusiastic broadcasters like me and others so very long ago.

The day after opening

Long into the wee hours of the night as the First Couple celebrated the first day of the Obama administration, there was a growing realization by those of us whose eyes were glued to their TV sets that history was about to give way to hard work. And then there were those Constitutional scholars who were shouting "Hold on! He's not President!" The controversy sprang up when Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts flubbed his one line in dyslexic fashion and caused everyone to scratch their heads over whether or not it would be necessary to re-do. Some of you may be surprised to learn that it does not take a Chief Justice or any Justice for that matter to administer the oath of office to the President. It can be any federal judge or magistrate and we should all know that because of the famous picture taken aboard Air Force One when Lyndon Johnson was administered the oath by a sitting Texas federal judge following the assasination of John F. Kennedy. Oh, well, it seems like it's only a matter of time before the President and the Chief Justice will have another go at it...just to make sure.