Food, glorious food

We all remember the classic scene at the beginning of the Academy Award-winning musical "Oliver!" by Lionel Bart. The film based on Charles Dickens' "Oliver Twist" depicts the children in the orphanage having been carefully fed a regimen of gruel - basically watered down oatmeal - and kept away from a diet which involved meat of any sort. This is to demoralize them and keep their spirits down. It is young Oliver Twist who implores Mr. Bumble for "more" and the tale goes off from there. In many countries the ability to ask for more doesn't even exist. Hundreds of children and adults in East Africa are experiencing hunger on a level few of us can fathom. Yet, here in America we take for granted the fact that food is in abundance and for the most part safely distributed from farm to market to table in an efficient system that assures quality and quantity of products. To be sure there are hungry people in the United States and many of them right under our veritable noses. But here we lack from the politics of food, where food is used as a weapon to keep the downtrodden in check and to prevent any possibility of a backlash against the powers that be. It's much like that in Somalia. The difference is that we have savage, bloodthirsty warlords there who withhold food intended to alleviate suffering because they intend to starve out their enemies. Not one of them is as innoxious a fellow as Mr. Bumble, I am afraid to point out. Nevertheless, we should consider that food is a necessary part of all of our lives. The sooner we remove its inaccessibility from those who need it, the better the human condition will be. Proper food and diets mean less disease and better general health. Think about that today - Blog Action Day - as we reach for the chips and dip, hot dogs or burgers just before we enjoy our regimen of football.

Justice delayed or justice denied

Death chamber for lethal injection

For the family of slain Georgia police officer Mark MacPhail the last two decades have moved slowly and steadily with no closure in sight. His accused killer Troy Davis was charged with the cold-blooded crime despite not a speck of physical evidence. The prosecution proved their case. Nine men had testified that he had done the deed. A Georgia police officer, husband, father, brother and son had been slain. The jury found him guilty and because this was a capital offense involving the killing of a police officer, Davis received the ultimate punishment during the punishment phase of the trial. He was to be executed by the state. In plain and simple terms Davis waited for his date with the executioner for nearly two decades. Over that time he exhausted appeal after appeal. They were denied, but at each turn he was spared and his team of attorneys continued to press their case. Curiously, the longer the conviction stood, the fewer of his accusers were certain Davis was the responsible party. At first, one then two recanted their testimony. Three became five and that soon led to seven out of the nine who changed their minds. Davis never admitted he was guilty. Indeed, he was defiant. It was someone else that had killed MacPhail, he maintained. He was innocent. He pressed his case for a new trial. Another person confessed to the crime, but the courts did not overturn the verdict. Davis' attorneys hoped that some august body of judges would hear his case and grant that a new trial was in order or else find some opportunity to commute the sentence to life in prison while they continued to demand justice. The MacPhail family needing closure for their loss pressed just as hard. What kind of world would allow a public servant who was killed in the line of duty to be forgotten and his killer to remain free? At every appeal there was the MacPhail family demanding justice and there was the Davis family vigorously campaigning for a new trial decrying no semblance of justice. Recently, Davis had gotten closer to the executioner's needle, but last minute reprieves kept his chances and himself alive. But the clock kept ticking. The MacPhail family became jaded. They wanted to know their son had not lived and died in vain. The Davises labored long and hard, reminding the public and officials it was better to let ten murderers go free than to put one innocent man to death. And on it went. When his latest appeal was turned down and the governor refused to act, Davis prepared to meet his maker. Outside the prison and elsewhere there were protests of considerable size. People carried placards and shouted out, while Davis contemplated the meaning of it all. To the end he maintained his innocence even as the IV was attached to his arm and the drugs were sent coursing in his veins. Was this justice? The MacPhails say so. Those that hoped Davis would live say no. In the end it's just one man's life and with the wanton fashion in which lives are snuffed out in an instant these days one may question why the ruckus. In 16 states and the District of Columbia there is no death penalty. These include New York, Illinois, Michigan and Massachusetts - some of the most populous states - and North Dakota, Vermont and Alaska - some with the least populations. Elsewhere in the world countries like the United Kingdom proscribe a death penalty. Is a lifetime behind bars a proper punishment for someone who has deprived another human being of their ultimate right - the right to life? Some of Davis' last words are haunting: "I am not the one who took your son, father or brother!" Only the Allmighty knows if he was telling the truth and if the State of Georgia railroaded a verdict against an innocent man. Fully 65% of Americans believe in the death penalty as a deterrent to crime. If this execution proves nothing else, it proves that Americans are still sharply divided over the right for any state to take a life. In the end there are two families suffering from loss and neither has been fully served by this execution. No one is truly happy. Yes, the MacPhail family has settled for closure. It is simply not possible to bring back Officer MacPhail. Likewise, the Davis family can no longer visit their loved one and they mourn his execution. One thing is certain: the suffering will continue as will the contentious debate over the death penalty.

Gamers defeat HIV mystery

HIV - Could scientists and gamers be on to a cure?

Interesting news today from the computing world. It seems that online gamers have done what scientists have been unable to do by themselves, that is, decrypt the structure of an enzyme in a family of retroviruses that includes the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). The monomeric protease enzyme is described as a cutting agent used to tailor retroviruses on a molecular level. Scientists have known about the enzyme for a while, but they could only observe it under an electron microscope which yielded a flat, two-dimensional image. Thanks to a partnership with the gamers, who utilized a special gaming program called Foldit, the scientists were able to understand the complex three-dimensional structure of the enzyme. Understanding the structure could eventually lead to further insight as to how certain diseases like HIV spread and how to design specific blockers to halt them. Foldit was developed as a game by the University of Washington in 2008 in which teams of gamers were enlisted to unfold chains of amino acids, considered the building blocks of proteins. In just three weeks time the gamers were able to unlock the mystery of the enzyme and delivered an accurate three-dimensional model of its structure. Scientists who credited the gamers for the discovery along with themselves say this is the first time that computer gamers have contributed to such a discovery. It shows that the gamers' human spatial reasoning can rise above the skills sets enployed by computers alone. Scientists failed because they could not develop a way to interpret the data from the computers without this extra level of spatial reasoning honed in Foldit. It shows that computers need humans in order to advance to a higher level and dashes much of the doom and gloom forecasts of the downfall of human intellect attributed to the computer. The entire story is presented in the journal Nature Structural & Molecular Biology. (You may want to take my word because the cost of reading the article is $32.) This may be just the first step in many new ones to come which could lead to the understanding of the behavior of retroviruses like HIV and could help bring about a cure for the devastating disease of AIDS.

The Dust (revisited 9 years later)

The Dust

The field of honor that was once

A testament of steel

Has now been cleared of all debris

Except that which we feel.

In the ruins of sorrow

Families cry for those that won’t return.

Children wail and lovers weep

For those of whom they yearn.

The uniforms of blue and white --

Reminders to us all --

Are fused with red, which is the blood

Of those who heard the call.

And brave men out on foreign soil

Now wage the battle proud.

They rattle sabers gleaming bright

Their caissons ring out loud.

The sinister force from far off lands

Sent assassins from the skies

They thought that killing innocents

Would reinforce their lies.

But what beheld them following

This cowardly attack

Was a steely-eyed America

That was ready to fight back.

The dust that fell from towers tall

Still lingers to this day.

It flows throughout our beating hearts --

It shows up when we pray.

And while we fight these craven foes,

We know we’ve just begun

To honor those that passed away

The date of Nine-One-One.

©2002 Alan Smason

Becoming a YES man

Late last week I received an invitation by e-mail I had never thought would ever be extended to the likes of moi. The simply worded explanation told me that David Cuthbert, the retired theatre critic for the Times-Picayune had elected to retire from "Steppin' Out," the weekly arts review show seen for most of the last two decades over PBS affiliate WYES-TV. The note asked me to join them as the local theatre reviewer and to add my picks for best bets on the scene. I've known WYES for years before they became known as the home of "Sesame Street." It is one of the oldest PBS stations in the country and I remember it changed its original call number from Channel 8 to its present Channel 12 sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s. That switch was made to accommodate the then-ABC affiliate to occupy the more coveted VHS position in the market. With cable and satellite television today such swaps are hardly necessary. WYES-TV is a member-supported PBS station, but does require and receives a good amount of local support as well from area businesses, most notably through the very successful art and other auctions it stages every year. A number of local productions are financed through The Producers Circle, a group dedicated toward the creation and proliferation of local programming at the station. "Steppin' Out" is hosted by Peggy Scott Laborde, a well-known and respected TV journalist, whose local productions on a number of themes of local interest have been acknowledged as having set high industry standards and worthy of numerous citations and awards. As the host of "Steppin' Out," Laborde lords over various authorities and gets their take on the local arts scene. When the program first began, the late Al Shea, a longtime fixture in New Orleans TV and on the local theatre scene, was called upon to give his take on local theatre as well as to opine about the various actors, producers, choreographers and directors whose work was essential and important. After Shea passed away two years ago, Cuthbert was the logical person to take over the theatre reviews on "Steppin' Out" insofar as he had just retired from the newspaper and was (and still is) considered one of the most informed authorities on theatre in New Orleans. There is no doubt that I love and have loved theatre for most of my life. The love of music was probably bred in me in vitro. I sold classical, opera and musical theatre recordings at my family record store for decades, but also became a local radio broadcaster out of college. Because of that, I probably know more about musical theatre than most, but admit I still have a lot to learn in many areas and am in fact still learning. I have been a member of the Big Easy Theatre Committee for 12 years and have written extensively on the local theatre scene in print and online at Examiner.com. Yet, to have an invitation extended to me to take over this slot after such an outstanding legacy by these two gentlemen I have so admired and respected, most assuredly makes me feel unworthy and unsure. I accepted because I really do believe I can do this job, but I do so humbly and with respect knowing that the path I follow has been so expertly laid before me that I must take care not to undo what they have done or upset the delicate balance they have set. Today is my first day and I hope I am up to this challenge. The broadcast is shown on Friday nights at 6:30 p.m. and re-broadcast at 11:00 p.m. I say yes to WYES and I hope the staff there and others who watch say the same right back to me.

The drama that is theatre

For several months now the battle has raged. There have been accusations and recriminations on both sides as the struggle for control of Le Petit Théåtre du Vieux Carré has persisted. The facts have been disputed by both the Board of Governors and the Le Petit Guild members, but the love of the country's oldest community theater (founded in 1916) is not in doubt. The passions on both sides are fierce and run deep. For those not familiar with the controversy, I shall in a cursory fashion sum up what has transpired thus far. The theater building bordering on Jackson Square has been and still is in great need of repairs. Although several valiant figures have emerged through the last decade to lead Le Petit, the board had found itself in ongoing financial trouble. Damages from Hurricane Katrina and recent improvements to the main stage were costly and a balloon note on the mortgage for the historic property also loomed large. There were indications that the bank would call their loan. With sadness last year, the entire season was cancelled in December of 2010 when it became apparent to the Board of Governors they could no longer afford to put on productions without losing more money. Board members looked at several options from different quarters and eventually decided to invite local restauranteur Dickie Brennan to develop a significant portion of the facility into a restaurant. The agreed upon price would be $3 million. The facility would, for the most part, remain a theater, sharing common space with the restaurant such as the central patio on the property. This led to a number of people in the theatre community crying foul. Some did not want to lose the smaller of the two performing spaces - what had been formerly known as Teddy's Corner or Muriel's Cabaret Theatre - to a restaurant at all. Others stated that to use the space for a restaurant, which it had been previously, would be more judicious and proper. Some liked the Brennan family's track record with restaurants. Others questioned the need for yet another Brennan restaurant in the French Quarter. Meanwhile, the Le Petit Guild, an advisory group made up of friends of the theater for the past half century, took the opposite tack. They argued the board was not looking at other alternatives. Recently, they claimed the valuation of the building was far beneath what had been suggested in pending documents for the lease and that to proceed might not only be criminal, but could put the tax exempt status of Le Petit into question. A vote by the Board of Governors on the subject was called to change the bylaws allowing the sale of a portion of the property to Brennan to take place. The Guild members challenged the vote by taking the matter to Civil District Court. The Board of Governors countered by challenging the order from one court by having another opinion offered by another judge. He decreed the Guild members were to cease and desist their tactics and were not allowed to engage board members in any way. The battle over the last several months was pitched and combatants bound by their love of theatre literally waged war against the other. Last night the board assembled all voting members - season ticket subscribers - and the outcome was a 74-58 win for the Board of Governors. The sale of a portion of the building can now proceed, the mortgage can be retired, new repairs can be made and the healing process over what is now a major rift in the theatre community can begin. As a lover of theatre and a reviewer of most productions seen on the local front, I have taken no side and I do not wish to broker animosity from my friends on either side. Nevertheless, my opinion today is that we urgently need to make strides to bring these two factions together. The hurt on both sides runs about as deep as it can go and I am saddened that such a vibrant and robust community could be split to its core over one issue - albeit a major one. After Hurricane Katrina and the flooding that decimated the city, the first artistic group that returned in force was the theatre community. Even while residents were living in trailers and eating at taco stands, there were actors, singers, dancers and technicians coming together to put on shows to bring some happiness back to a town full of anger and rage. These brave souls took the sting off a horrible chapter in this city's life. Recently, we have lost an invaluable performing venue at Le Chat Noir and several major performers and directors have felt compelled to leave New Orleans and may never return. Now is the time for us all to come together and ease each other's minds. The vote has been taken, a decision has been made and change - the essential part of life - must go on. Acceptance is tough to take when one is on the losing end and the board members should be gracious as plans are made for the future of Le Petit. It would be a real life tragedy if this drama persists any longer.

Where did those decades go?

Members of the Fortier class of 1971 at the recent reunion

It seems that it was only but a few years ago when I was forced to read "Beowulf" and had my first crack at cold reading a play, nailing the role of Tom in "The Glass Menagerie." But, no, it was much more than a few years. Indeed, it is well over 40 years ago that I endured the end of the period of time known as the Sixties. That point was driven home this weekend as I joined in the celebration of my graduating high school class. The class of '71 had a lot of things to endure. We were part of the generation that welcomed or fought court-ordered desegregation. Our class was literally half black and the other half mostly white, Hispanic and Asian. This balance did not extend to classes before or after. Our class was the tipping point. In later years the majority of students were black. The dwindling number of white and Hispanic students, whose parents chose to enroll them elsewhere, led to disparities of 90% and higher for black students. When the balance between races was more balanced as in the Class of '71, it forced students to confront those issues of racism that existed in outside society and glean more perspective from other quarters. Our class also dealt with a large amount of sexism. Women were not considered able to take on certain jobs such as policemen and firefighters. Very few politicians were women and a woman had yet to be nominated to the Supreme Court or be a candidate for either President or Vice-President. Need I mention the school-sanctioned Future Homemakers of America club? We were also embroiled in an unpopular war (or any wars really popular?) that was sending our own peers to fight an unknown enemy - and possibly die - in faraway rice patties. We had experienced assassinations in rapid succession of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and presidential candidate and Senator Robert Kennedy and were still reeling from those losses. Is there any wonder with so much to consider that many of our generation took to experimenting with drugs? While there were some pharmaceuticals that were popular in some circles, the most abused drugs at that time were tobacco, alcohol and marijuana. That marijuana had taken on such widespread acceptance along with a host of psychedelic and mind-altering drugs such as L.S.D., peyote or hashish during this period could be credited to a number of factors. Suffice it to say that conditions were ripe for members of the Class of '71 to question the American lifestyle and the manner of what was considered the norm (a nuclear family) and the trappings of success (money, fancy cars, etc.). We had tuned in and turned on and listened to the music of revolutionaries like the Beatles, the Doors and the Rolling Stones who advised us to love and party while we still had the time. We also heard from urban voices who cried for change like the Temptations in their anthem "Ball of Confusion" and Sly and the Family Stone with "Everybody Is a Star." What brought all of this back home recently is that I shared this past weekend with my former classmates at our (gulp!) 40th reunion. The faces have changed, the hair has grayed or disappeared in many cases and the waistlines have spread. But we are still very much the same. We are glad to know one another and while we don't see everyone that often, it is good that we get together and reminisce about where we were and how things were when we were still impressionable and for the most part without families of our own. Some members of the class have as many as six grandchildren and one admitted to having several great-granchildren. Some have been married as long as 45 years, but none of that really matters. What matters are the connections we made in a very turbulent time in our country's history. It was a time when we grew up and a time which made us very different than those that have followed including our own progeny. I am immensely proud to have been a class officer and to have been part of leading this class. I hope to be here for many more of these celebrations and have volunteered to lead the efforts in ten years when we will be celebrating our golden reunion. Our school, Alcee Fortier Sr. High School, is no more. It was restructured after Hurricane Katrina into Robert Mills Lusher Sr. High School, a charter school. But even so, we as a class are still very much together. All praise our alma mater. She lives within our hearts.