Thursday, January 28, 2010

Zinn and the Art of Democracy Maintenance

Today has brought the unexpected news of the deaths of Howard Zinn, 87, and J.D. Salinger, 91. Neither death should be particularly surprising, given their ages, but, as very different quintessentially American icons of cultural and political upheaval, I think it is safe to say there is a true void in this country's soul that didn't exist a few days ago.



If I can leave a discussion of Salinger for later, I would like to concentrate on Zinn, the iconoclastic historian activist. Like Catch-22 author Joseph Heller and 1972 Democractic peace candidate for President George McGovern, he served on bombers during World War II (if Tom Brokaw wants to make his case just from these three, maybe we can talk greatest generation). Returning to his native Brooklyn, he worked in the shipyard before taking advantage of the G.I. Bill and starting college at 27 (I can't help contrasting Zinn's bio with the Keystone Conservatives facing federal charges after being accused of trying to tamper with Senator Mary Landrieu's phone system here in New Orleans. Probably seemed like a good idea at the frat house kegger.).

After earning his Ph.d. with a dissertation analyzing the congressional career of left-leaning Republican (no, it's not a misprint, my apologies for any computers whose hard drive is fried trying to process such a concept [but it's good practice for next week, when all those computers are going to have to process the Saints' victory in the Super Bowl. Who Dat!]) Fiorello LaGuardia, he settled into a teaching position at Spellman College, the historically Black women's institution in Atlanta, where his students included Alice Walker. He was fired from that position for his strong support of students' participation in the civil rights movement, and continued his academic career at Boston University.

Although Zinn was best known as an historian, with A People's History of the United States (now in at least its third edition) serving as an initial corrective to the conventional historical record for many. He was also very much directly involved in the tumult of the late 1960's. A diplomatic trip to North Vietnam with radical Catholic priest Dan Berrigan (there I go flouting the conventional wisdom again) resulted in the release of three American POW's in the midst of the Tet Offensive. And Daniel Ellsberg entrusted a copy of the secretly-copied Pentagon Papers (which showed a pattern of official deception on Vietnam policy stretching back to Truman) with Zinn, who (along with friend and colleague Noam Chomsky) edited and annotated it before its release to the New York Times in 1971. Alaska Senator Mike Gravel (a darkhorse candidate for the Democratic Presidential nomination in 2008, despite a public record whose heroism dwarfed the others) then read it into the Congressional record in dramatic fashion, confirming for many the moral and constitutional disaster the war had become.

Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to see Howard Zinn live, though I came close. He spoke at Portland (Ore.) State University when we were living there, and my wife Sheila and I planned for attending. For some reason, we got a late start, and got there pretty close to the time it was scheduled to start. I didn't expect to have great seats, but expected the auditorium to accomodate what would certainly be a large crowd.

You have to remember that this was Portland, Oregon, where radical politics is both a way of life and a passionate spectator sport, and Zinn is right up there with with Chomsky, Naomi Klein, Ralph Nader, Gore Vidal, Cornel West, Slavoj Zizek and a handful of others in the stratosphere of living icons. However, Zinn's appearance was sponsored by the student history association, who apparently saw him in rather narrow academic terms, as a distinguished scholar of particular insight. So the hall they had reserved for the lecture was abysmally small, as they had drastically underestimated Zinn's appeal to the general public. So the doors were closed by the time we arrived (how many times has the fetus of the revolution been aborted in its conference room womb by that insidious, draconian representative of soul-destroying bureaucracy, the fire marshal?), with other stragglers engaged in passionate arguments with bewildered security personnel. It was just such a perfect microcosm of the age-old opportunity for deep democratic dialogue being stifled by ignorance and blind adherence to rules.

I don't remember what Sheila and I did instead, but that was pre-parenthood (not to mention pre-Netflix, Facebook, and blogspot), so we probably went out, spent our overflowing disposal income on a nice meal and drinks, and went home and made passionate love until dawn. Those were the days, weren't they?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

2009 Wrapup (About Time, Huh?)

Like just about all of you out there, I'm sure, I have been very preoccupied with the situation in Haiti, particularly given the shameful role the United States government and military has played over the years in that country. I was even motivated by the ignorant musings of New York Times columnist David Brooks to write a letter to the editor of the Times-Picayune. They are considering it for publication, but, to be fair, many of my points were made more effectively by Tracy Kidder, author of Mountains Beyond Mountains, in a column published just yesterday. So I'll give it a couple of more days, and probably publish my letter here, with some additional clarification.

But while I've got you all here (both of you here? Anyone? Hello?), I would like to present, in all its glory, the final, expanded 2009 Greater New Orleans Market Bestseller List, followed by some intriguing statistical analysis. Those of you who have been following this blog regularly know that Kurt Vonnegut had a commanding lead for much of the year, only to have Walker Percy catch him late in the year. Well, the irrepressible Indianapolite (Indianapolian?) finally did prevail. The final tally:

1. Kurt Vonnegut
2. Walker Percy
3. Ray Bradbury
4. Aldous Huxley
5. Albert Camus
6. Robert Heinlein
7. (tie) Hermann Hesse
7. (tie) George Orwell
7. (tie) Ayn Rand
10. (tie) James Lee Burke
10. (tie) James Joyce
10. (tie) Henry Miller
10. (tie) J.D. Salinger
10. (tie) Star Trek
15. Edgar Rice Burroughs
16. (tie) Joseph Campell
16. (tie) William Faulkner
16. (tie) Ken Kesey
19. (tie) George Carlin
19. (tie) Philip K. Dick
19. (tie) Henry David Thoreau
19. (tie) John Kennedy Toole
19. (tie) Tennessee Williams
24. (tie) Edward Abbey
24. (tie) Joan Didion
24. (tie) Bob Dylan
24. (tie) Ernest Gaines
24. (tie) Jack Kerouac
24. (tie) Sylvia Plath
24. (tie) Eric Schlosser
24. (tie) John Steinbeck
24. (tie) Alan Watts

It's important to remember that this is the best, most precise instrument we have in these uncertain times for determining the most popular writers among the greater New Orleans reading public. Now let's crunch some numbers:

Percentage of primarily fiction writers: 72%
Percentage of non-American natives: 22%
Percentage of British writers: 9%
Percentage of non-British Europeans: 9%
Percentage of non-Americans/Europeans: 3%
Percentage of Louisiana writers: 16%
Percentage of Southern writers: 19%
Percentage of women writers: 9%
Percentage of African-American writers: 3%

Just a little food for thought. And remember, if you want your voice heard in 2010, you've got to come out to the open-air markets that contribute so much to our city's vibrant, independent commerce: the Freret Market (first Saturday of each month), Broad Flea (second Saturday), and Elysian Fleas (third Saturday). Ayn Rand and Walter Moseley are the early leaders. Feel the excitement. Be the excitement.

For those of you who prefer online commerce, many new volumes have been added to the inventory of Deep South Samizdat Books (amazon.com/shops/deepsouthsamizdatbooks). You can find titles by Albert Camus, Charles Darwin, Octavio Paz, Bill Moyers and Ira Levin, as well as biography of hard-boiled pulp master Jim Thompson. Of course, you can always reach me at mpbookfreak@hotmail.com if you want to bypass the behemoth. Until next time.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Bio of a Player

Robert Altman: The Oral Biography
by Mitchell Zuckoff
Alfred A. Knopf, 2009

As any discerning film buff knows, the 1970s were a Golden Age for American cinema, with classic works spilling out from auteurs like Scorcese (Mean Streets, Taxi Driver), Coppola (Godfather and Godfather II, The Conversation, Apocalypse Now), Hal Ashby (Harold and Maude, The Last Detail, Being There) and Roman Polanski (Chinatown). Of course, any such list would be criminally incomplete without the inclusion of Robert Altman, whose turbulent, fiercely independent, multi-phased career included such highlights as M*A*S*H* (released in 1970), Nashville, The Player and Short Cuts, and included television (Bonanza, Combat), the pioneering cable miniseries Tanner 88, and A Prairie Home Companion, released just before his death at 81.

The maverick director is the subject of a recently-published "oral biography," a form uniquely suited to a subject who inspired such intense loyalty among colleagues. More so than maybe any modern director, Altman assembled a loose ensemble company of distinctive character actors, many of whom worked on several movies with Altman, usually performing their seminal roles with him: Rene Auberjonois, Keith Carradine, Bud Cort, Shelley Duvall, Michael Murphy, Lily Tomlin. All speak reverently of their time with Altman, whose reputation was as an enthusiastic ringmaster who encouraged improvisation and collaboration among his fellow artists, even those who other talented directors (such as Sam Peckinpaugh, in a contrast drawn by Altman protege' and television director Reza Badiyi) would bully in order to achieve their grand vision. Auberjonois, who is unfortunately probably best remembered for his role as the insufferable governor's aide in the mediocre Soap spinoff Benson (God, I know I've completely lost anyone under about 35 reading this), sums it up when talking his experience filming Brewster McCloud, a whcked-out movie starring Bud Cort as a teenage boy living clandestinely in the Houston Astrodome who has a dream of flying (and yes, it's a real movie, that's the kind of thing they did in the 70's):
It's a rare thing to get into a situation where you truly feel like a collaborator with the
director. He was so brilliant at knowing how it was all going to come together. He was so flex-
ible, and in my life the great directors I've worked with are always directors who know exact-
ly what they want but will change on a dime when they see what the actor brings to it. They
are supremely confident that they know what they want, but at the same time open to know-
ing what might be better. That's what Bob was (p. 204).

Although Altman embodied the independence that today's young directors go to the same handful of film schools and festivals to cultivate, he also got electrifying performances from many of the biggest stars of his day, some of whom appreciated his style more than others. Elliott Gould and Donald Sutherland complained to the studio behind Altman's back about his lack of deference to their star power on the set of M*A*S*H*, while Warren Beatty chafed at his lack of control on McCabe and Mrs. Miller. But Robin Williams was born to play Popeye, and I think it can be argued that Tim Robbins took his craft to new levels with his collaborations with Altman.

The reader gets a detailed look at Altman's personal life, as well. Although he was married several times and a, frankly, neglectful father and stepfather many times over, there is little or no bitterness on the part of family members interviewed for the book (again, a contrast could be drawn with Sam Peckinpaugh, whose daughter I met briefly one time). His sons worked in the movie business in various capacities, including the amusing story of Michael Altman, at the age of 14, writing the lyrics of the song "Suicide is Painless," for M*A*S*H*. For those of you familiar only with the t.v. show, it may come as a surprise that there are actual lyrics. But Michael's arrangement gave him 50 percent of the royalties for the song. So the movie's a hit (probably the biggest of Altman's career), and there are those royalties. It's adapted for television, kept as the theme song, sans lyrics. The show is a hit, runs for 12 or 13 years, goes into syndication:
Anyway, after the series came out, I got another check for, like, twenty-six bucks. And
then the second check was like a hundred thirty dollars. And I'm going, "Oh, this is nice." And
And the next check was like tweny-six thousand dollars. And then it started, the whole thing
started with the royalties. I think I ended up making close to two million dollars. And Bob had
gotten paid seventy-five thousand dollars to direct the movie and no points, right? And it
made Fox Studios what it is, right? It was their biggest hit ever, you know. Then the tv show
and stuff like that. And Bob's just been livid about that for years (p. 179).

So there's the career of a maverick in a nutshell. His biggest box-office hit and first critical splash is associated in most people's minds with a t.v. series, and his then-teenage son ends up making more money off of it than he does. Read all about it, and then give Netflix the heads up, because I think a lot of us will be readjusting our queues afterwards. Let's see, I think I'll start with McCabe and Mrs. Miller, haven't seen that in years. But I've never seen Quintet, or Popeye, for that matter. And maybe I should give Images another chance. Gosford Park, oh and Kansas City was so good,.....