As I write this, in the wake of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia's death, his body is barely even cold (let alone buried)-- but already,Senate
Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and others are threatening to
block any potential Supreme Court nomination by President Obama, preclusively suggesting, "We should let the new President do it." Huh? Wasn't this President duly elected, and then re-elected (by the largest majority votes in three decades!) precisely to do stuff like this?
It ought to seem utterly shocking that the GOP would attempt to
thoroughly disenfranchise this President, except we're used to it by now. That's been their stated mission since Day One, back in January of 2009. But to claim that because he's entered the last 25% of his current
term, this somehow disqualifies him from executing his Constitutional duty to
nominate a new Supreme Court Justice? That really takes the cake.
I cannot recall any presidential candidate ever saying, "We're gonna do such-and-such for the next seven years!"
Mitch McConnell~ The Classic Obstructionist
Can you? Last I looked, Mr. Obama was elected to serve two full terms--totaling eight years in office, as the President of the United States of America--the duties of which clearly include nominating judges to fill any Supreme Court vacancies that might arise. Again, that's eight years...not seven!
Check out the latest GOP junior high school 'debate' this very night, and (again, before Scalia's even in the ground) you'll see the hopefuls
lining up
in 'lock-step,' to act like denying our current President his constitutional
role is somehow "the right thing to do." ...I guarantee it.
They'll alltry to outdo each other in the next few weeks, to declare that no nominating process should even begin under Obama. And when he finally submits a nominee, in a month or two--a perfectly ordinary thing, for any sitting President to do--these crafty right wingers will paint the nomination itself as 'divisive,' as though President Obama is so illegitimate, he should simply step out of the way, hang his head, and sit on his hands for the next 11 months in office! It's as if they're saying, "You never even belonged there, in the first place." Hmmm. I wonder why...?
The Republican Senate leaders have the power to block any vote on a new nominee, though it would be outrageous (if not unprecedented) for them to do so. I'm already reading online comments from my liberal friends, in despair at the prospect of that scenario.
...but I say "let 'em."
Because if the Republican Senate succeeds in pushing this issue out into
the fall election season, suddenly the whole nation will once again be
confronted with just how RADICAL their anti-progress "social" positions
are, on the
whole basket of issues the Supreme Court adjudicates: abortion, guns, Planned Parenthood, gay rights, etc. Think about it: That's
the very stuff they've been attempting to *downplay* in recent general elections, as the changing electorate has grown way past
the GOP's antiquated views, demographically.
In my opinion, having that discussion-- in effect shining a bright light on the importance of Supreme Court nominations-- would be an absolute
gift any Democratic Presidential candidate could never have
anticipated, politically speaking.
It would bring into high relief a dirty little truth, obscured by gerrymandering: Republicans have a small minority of support in this nation for their outdated 'social views,' which is literally dying off, day by day. In fact, even as the GOP's shrinking base has drifted way to the right, the nation itself has become less white, less morally strict, and less
conservative. (The only reason the House of Representatives still ends
up ruled by the GOP has to do with the above mentioned gerrymandering --which means
"drawing up voting districts to isolate your opponents and boost your
consituency with contorted maps," designed to magnify your minority.) If the Republicans were truly savvy (instead of being
perpetually blinded by their unique hatred for this President),
they'd actually let Mr. Obama bring a Supreme Court nomination to the Senate floor, beforerejecting it out of hand. It's the right thing to do. But I'm betting they won't even wait for that; their blood boils bright red.
Judging by tonight's debate--as well as the statements issued by McConnell and others just moments after the news of Scalia's death broke--the Republicans seem united in their resolve to once again block this President from doing his job. Not only is this a stark reminder of their ongoing intransigence (at a time when they didn't need it), but it's also a clear reminder to the voters, of just how badly we need to avoid having Republicans pick 'conservatives' to direct the highest court vacancies, for a nation much more liberal now, than they are.
All the focus this fall will now be on
their outdated "moral" views, left over from the Nixon era...and I suspect America
will respond accordingly, at the ballot box. The way I see it, that would be a win-win...not just for the Democratic Party, but for the nation at large, which long ago moved into the 21st century.
___________________________________ This opinion column is Copyright 2016 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.
he reshaped my whole view of him, in under 24 hours.
By Peter Rodman
"Do you remember a guy that's been
in such an early song?
I've heard a rumour from Ground Control...
Oh no, don't say it's true..."
He was as big, in his time, as Dorothy Parker or Hemingway ever were in theirs--and in my little world, needless to say, David Bowie's passing is a pretty monumental loss.
I say "little" because the full time interviewer lives and breathes their work alone--with little if any time to soak in what just happened, let alone share any of the personal stuff about it with friends or loved ones, before the next one comes along. Only now, 4 decades later, have I really taken time to re-live and enjoy the essence of what's on all those tapes, and what went into each one. In David Bowie's case, the lasting impression is the openness he so freely offered both on and off the air, during what I'll call my Bowie weekend, way back in 1980. A little background, first:
Phoners
(telephone interviews) were never my preferred
method for interviews, but in a few rare
cases--either to do a favor for some rock promoter, or if (as with
Bowie) it was simply the only way to get an interview--I'd acquiesce, and
do one. Everything from the sound quality to the distance between you usually
conspired to make phone calls sound like...well, phone calls. Less
interesting. Less spontaneous. Less dynamic. Less able to have music
edited in. Less everything. More pertinently, they could be iffy for a multi-media freelancer, income-wise. Those who strictly write for newspapers, no matter how big, predominantly use phoners, to ply their trade; but balancing both print needs and the exacting audio standards of a radio program pretty much demanded that nearly all my interviews be conducted face-to-face. My advantage over each venue was the other. My advantage over them all was that I retained full ownership of every tape I ever made, not being an 'employee.' My work was licensed for a single use, and could be sold elsewhere as I saw fit. That still holds true. So I knew I'd be selling each story to two or three print outlets, but if the sound quality didn't pass muster, it couldn't run on my radio
Tools of the Trade: the living room rig ...circa 1980
program, and even if it did, an abbreviated phone call (using my suction cup 'microphone' at home) wasn't exactly optimal. (Then again, that's still the best phone sound I've ever heard on the radio--and...it was in stereo! I still say, they've never improved on that gizmo. ) But the point is, I had lots of time to fill, on my weekly radio interview show... and phoners just wouldn't cut it. So, again: Phoners? Not my favorite. But, an exclusive David Bowie phoner? From an artist who only did a handful of interviews every fewyears, at most? Sure. I'm in. In scoring interviews, many times the greatest 'in' was simple hustle. If I could devise an angle no competing music or entertainment outlet was using, I'd be far more likely to gain access to my target subject. Better still, if no other writers were paying attention--for example, not thinking a highbrow play might be a great place to score an interview with a worldwide rock star--well, all the better for me!
A brief digression about radio:
99.9% of all radio stations won't do an interview, unless the artist comes to them. (I call those lazy affairs 'drive by' interviews. "So...uh...what's next for you guys, on this tour?" "Oh...uh...Kansas City. I think it's Tuesday.") Literally nothing about such an interview will ever be of any interest, beyond the fleeting moment in which it happens. Mine, on the other hand, could be re-used and repackaged forever--depending upon how well I could steer the questions and answers toward slightly less time-sensitive topics. (I avoided phrases like "your new album" or "last night's show" like the plague.) What made my mission easier was the fact that in all my travels during the '70s and early '80s, I never saw another radio personality luggin' 40 pounds of recording equipment around to venues or hotels, the way I did. I wasn't a "DJ" at all; I was a reporter--something I took seriously, 24/7/365. The biggest advantage I had in Colorado during all that time was that nobody else in my vicinity was doing anything even close, as a full-time gig. The best interviews don't just come to you; you have to go get 'em. Even Howard Stern's interviews would be better, if he left the comfort zone of his studio and went to them. This aspect of my job was completely unknown to my family and friends. I don't know how they thought all this happened...but it didn't just happen. Oh, and one more thing: Nobody "hires" you, for this kind of job. You invent it.
~ END OF BRIEF DIGRESSION~
The occasion for our encounter was Bowie's
brief touring
David Bowie onstage, as The Elephant Man ~ 1980
stint as a dramatic stage actor (in the title role of The Elephant
Man), which seemed an obvious 'in' to me, as I figured no other rock writers would
probably spring for a ticket, or even have much interest in it --though some have since corrected me, on this point. Still, it offered a much
better likelihood for actually connecting with Bowie than would any 'large hall' concert
tour he might mount, as one of the biggest rock stars on the planet. Many remember it as a Broadway play, but in fact it debuted (with Bowie in the lead role) at Denver's Center for the Performing Arts, from July 29-August 3 of that summer. Then it was on to Chicago for a month, and the show finally hit NYC in September, where it ran through January 3, 1981. Meanwhile,
a week or two out from the Denver debut--as per usual--was when my real work was gettin' done: Buy a
ticket; befriend the venue and theater people; contact
A couple archived cassettes from the time period-- including the Bowie phoner.
David's
management, by 'long distance' telephone to London (remember, there were no cell phones back then; my monthly home phone bills in 1980 were routinely upwards of $400!), including several repeat calls and unreturned messages, etc. My
other work spoke for itself; I'd sent out bound books with hundreds of
articles and feature stories, clearly documenting my 'reach' in regional
newspapers and magazines. Even past interviews--particularly one on the
plane with Keith Richards, Stanley Clarke and Ron Wood (for a
side project of theirs, 'The New Barbarians')--helped cement my
credibility with David's reps, some of whom were actually shared with the
Rolling Stones. The whole idea was to erase any doubt: If he were going to do any interviews in the Rocky Mountain time zone, especially if it was only one--it had to be me. That was the pitch, always. (Now, it can be told!) But it was true: The combined print and broadcast circulation I could generate from just one interview could not be duplicated by any single print or radio outlet in the region, at that time.
By the time I actually saw the play, I'd already set up a phoner,
for the following afternoon...even though I secretly hoped for more, if possible. And by poking around the unfamiliar neighborhood (40 miles from my home) after the play, I
found my way to the only nearby bar, where the actors slowly trickled in after me, to informally wind down for the first time all week, celebrating their first few full-dress, paid-for shows. Good guess! Lo and behold, after a couple beers with the supporting cast, exchanging notes about everything but their lead player...in popped a very casually dressed David Bowie. After awhile he was jumping into, and initiating the conversation. He soon indicated he was already aware of our forthcoming on-the-record
chat, and even said he was looking forward to it. The boy was more than willing to throw down (well, sip) a beer (at least, I think it was beer) and joke around a bit,
in advance of our formal Q and A, the following afternoon. Perhaps each of us was sizing (or buttering) up the other, I dunno...but a more delightful night I cannot imagine, and could never have expected. And perhaps it was the sheer exhilaration of having gotten a couple performances under his belt, but David was positively ebullient. On top of that, I'd never have guessed he was as outgoing, virile, down to earth, and quite frankly "one of the guys" (in a decidedly hetero way) as he was...but he was! For what it's worth, this was a thespian--not a lesbian. That came as something of a jolt to the musicologist in me, who'd carefully studied his albums for a decade, believing full well that the pan-sexual, otherworldly 'being' he'd sold himself as, was exactly what he would be like. But that wasn't anything like the casual dude joining in on some already snappy repartee. Easy
to laugh, quick with a quip, happy to ask about our 'American football'
team (the Denver Broncos, whose footage was on the bar TVs pretty much non-stop, even in summer), he was almost so 'low key' that when we waved goodbye about an hour later, it was as if ol' Dave was just one o' the gang, and you'd be seeing him again, any ol' time! Surely this couldn't be the 'concept' icon who symbolized
Bowie, in his beloved adopted hometown, NYC.
'high art' the whole world over, recording electronic music in Berlin, or hangin' with William Burroughs downtown, while his rock counterparts flitted about, up at Studio 54. Surely the guy I'd just chuckled
back and forth with about life, and bars, and girls, for God's sake! wasn't the
androgynous minx on the cover of 'Pin Ups' or the Spaceman from Mars--nor
even the hobbled and deformed character he'd so deftly portrayed onstage, less than two
hours earlier. But he was. He was all those things; all those 'Bowies.' In listening back to our phoner now, I always cringe when I hear myself pronouncing his name as David "Booey." The whole world says "BO-ee,"
This was actually a fairly light week; my normal taped load was more like 6 or 7 taped interviews, almost always face-to-face.
and in truth so did I...until my various contacts at his office clearly and repeatedly used "Booey," and so--for the first time since I began collecting his music in 1971 or so, I jumped onboard. "Booey" it would be. A
year or so further into the '80s, as he rode "Let's Dance" and "Modern Love" to whole new
heights, I noticed that his reps had themselves jumped the pond, back
over to his audiences' preferred "BO-ee." (...now you know.)
The next day--as with so many other days back then--I waited at the appointed time, for my phone call...most likely in my pajamas. That old "dial" phone (pictured near the top of this page) was RED for a reason: It was called the 'hotline.' Everything important either happened or began, on that phone. It could never be tied up for anything else. So when it rang--as always, not a minute early or late--I was sittin' right there, counting the seconds. "Hello?" (female voice, businesslike) "Hello, is this Peter Rodman?" "This is he..." "Alright--could you hold on just one moment please, for Mister Booey...?" (brief pause) DB: "...Helow?!"
PR: Hello, David! DB: Hi! How are you!
It was as if we'd never left the bar--but now it was on to business, for me--and I'd
taken enough notes at the play to quote a few lines I thought might apply to
Bowie himself, or at least explain what drew him to the play--while still
shedding light on his overall thought process, as it might apply to music, painting, poetry, or any other kind of art. The hope was that if I didn't overdo the analogies, we might get some insights hitherto unavailable in his (decidedly guarded) "rock" interviews. I won't recount the body of it here; I may post it or share it again another time. But when asked about the 'chameleon like' persona everyone had always ascribed to him, Bowie chuckled, countering that in fact he thought of himself as "rather grasshoppery," instead. As each question came
together, he put me completely at ease (and hopefully I did him, as well) resulting in a conversation somehow good enough to entertain and engage us both, to the point where our defenses evaporated, the rapport from
the night before kicked back in. Suddenly, there it was again--the easy laugh, the
self-effacing manner, the "aww shucks I'm just a regular guy" thing,
juxtaposed ever-so-gracefully with his earnest appreciation for his lot
in life, which was to make, appreciate, and LIVE "art," in all its
various forms. Maybe it seems odd to dwell so much on "process" here, or that I've declined to rewrite the interview for you, in this blog (I promise to unearth it later and include it here)--or even that I'm still so surprised at the Bowie I encountered, that weekend. But it's been my experience, with notoriously elusive subjects (like say, Frank Zappa) that you'd better expect the least, and just take what they give you as a bonus. Don't just assume they'll be cagey--but don't expect them to bring you roses, either. None of my hard-earned knowledge applied to David Bowie at all. David opened right up and gave me lots of stuff I'd never even heard from him before, as if to say, "I'm an open book...go ahead, I'll answer anything!" Not what I expected at all. I've
interviewed everyone I ever wanted to meet, and then some. Fame never
got to me, and still doesn't--and Bowie was no exception. Butprobably because his attitude was so unexpected, I still can't get over what a 'regular guy' he was!It was like looking down inside an active volcano, and seeing a very calm man there, seated in lotus position, beckoning you. "Come on in, the lava's fine!"
David Bowie...and his famous eyes
I had looked straight into the eyes of a man with two different colored souls--or was it straight into the soul of a man with two different colored eyes? You choose; I'll never know, really.
All
I know is that today, I grieve for the guy I saw on the stage, and met at the bar--and the grace with
which he welcomed me, for however brief a moment in time, into the
center of his actual self--even giggling along with me, about his wild array of previous onstage characters. "I had to leave Ziggy behind," he confessed at one point. "He was killing me!" Our official interview came in just under the 10 minute time allotted. The print version will appear elsewhere in this blog, within a few days (I have to dig it out!); the audio version might just turn up elsewhere, later this week. As my own career went on through the '90s, I still never liked phoners, but I'd have to say I cannot think of a better one than David's, which is probably my favorite interview in the 'phoner' category. (Unless you count the time I played the parrot singing "I left My Heart in San Francisco" for Tony Bennett. Nah...I'll stick with the Bowie phoner.) I just wish I could have another toast with the guy, or some Hong Kong barbeque, maybe. Heck, I'd even settle for another phoner--though I doubt we could ever top the one we did, back in that summer of 1980. It wouldn't matter much to me now if we ever met up again, as long as he was still around. But I have to say, it just feels really wrong that David Bowie's gone. All I know is, this death hurts more than most of 'em--even the biggest ones, celebrity wise. His personal generosity towards me is always the first thing that pops into mind--like a neurological reflex--whenever I hear his music. I honestly never anticipated feeling that way, prior to our first encounter. That rare glimpse of the man's true essence--just some guy his local bodegaowner knew, or a recording engineer, or an elevator operator--issomething I'll always consider a personal gift he didn't have to share with me, but did. Some people--even in this business--collect autographs; I collect memories. (Okay, and a couple thousand tapes...)
In which the REAL David Bowie (2013) makes a statement, by defacing one of his own album covers, and getting you to buy it.
I can think of only two career events in Bowie's life since 1980, that really evoke the unassuming chap I got to hang out with, and later interviewed. The first is his 2013 album cover--pretty much erasing the 'celebrity face' as art, acknowledging the death of album art as we once knew it (in 12" form), and challenging the listener to really toss out all the marketing appeal, if music is truly "all we care about" anymore, as everybody in the MP3 generation likes to say it is. Brilliant, brilliant...and oh, so subversively street-Bowie! The other instance was on October 20, 2001...when Madison
Square Garden darkened, and the shadows of two towers faded behind an oriental rug, as a simple man sat--in lotus position, with no introduction whatsoever, and opened the most difficult all-star rock concert in history: the post 9/11 'Concert for New York City' at Madison Square Garden, broadcast LIVE on literally almost every channel in existence. There he sat, casually launching into not some Ziggy Stardust-fest of self aggrandizement, but a complex Paul Simon song-poem from '68, about seeking and finding "America"...and love...just as David himself had. Before he followed it up (with "Heroes"), Bowie spoke of "my Local Ladder," a firehouse he'd visited many times--both before and after 9/11. Those were the first spoken words in the whole show. Thiswas the real David Bowie. Humble, affable, thoughtful, always artistic, and finally ready to show us all his true self--just another guy in that godawful moment, confused as hell like the rest of us, but giving his all, on that dopey but poignant sounding Casio in front of him, set to sound like a carousel calliope; sans makeup, and with only the dimmest pin-spot; sorting through life's commotion, which always returns to ashes; but never (we all hoped) this way again.
"Ashes to ashes, funk to funky; we know Major Tom's a junkie..." I like to think he's at peace now. The ashes are all sorted out; he knows full well, he left all who knew him with a smile.
Angels eavesdrop on the random humans below--including Lou Reed-- in the 'Berlin' of Wim Wenders' amazing film, Far Away..So Close!
I
imagine him sitting atop a gargoyle over a forgotten building, beneath
the grey skies of his beloved Berlin, happily listening to all our transient thoughts, and marveling at all this hysterical social networking about him...
("...about me!") in much the same way as those wistful angels did, in Wim Wenders' transcendent film,Far Away...So Close! His own ashes casually sift through his fingers, and float casually toward the Earth below. He hears the random
An angel surveys all that lives and breathes below him, from high atop a statue of an angel in the film 'Far Away...So Close!'
thoughts of passersby, above and below--including Lou Reed, whom he long ago produced. He sees me typing this, and sees you reading it; glances toward his old building in NYC, and smiles down at the elevator man; he drifts by the studio to see who's manning the board, one more time; remembers a homeless man he once slipped some cash to, and checks in on him from his perch in the sky, to see that the guy's still okay...(he is); Bowie turns toward home, and sees Iman, sitting alone at a desk there, holding his picture; he wonders how they ever got so lucky...but knows she'll be fine. He looks up, and humbly thanks his maker; then looks down, and humbly thanks us. "My," he says to no one, sighing whimsically. "They are a busy lot, aren't they?" He's still David Bowie. ...just a regular guy, takin' in a whole new view.
___________________________________________________________ This Opinion Column is Copyright 2016 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.
About Peter Rodman: "Sunday Night with Peter Rodman" was a weekly radio interview show, which aired during the '70s, '80s and '90s...first in Colorado, and later in Nashville. Peter Rodman's feature work and columns were featured regularly in the Colorado Springs Sun, the Rocky Mountain News, the Boulder Daily Camera, Colorado Daily, Audience Magazine, and others, both regional and national. He also hosted a TV interview show ('Who's On 12 with Peter Rodman?') on KBDI-Channel 12 in Denver, for two seasons (totaling 47 shows) in prime time. Peter is currently working on a memoir, as well as a book of photographs, to include portraits of some of his best known interview subjects. 'The Peter Rodman Radio Archive' controls the rights to literally thousands of original radio, print and television interviews and images, to this day.
I can still recall when Columbus Day always fell on the 12th, and you know what? I'm pretty happy it does today...but
that doesn't mean I think Columbus correctly named "the Indians,"
simply because he THOUGHT he found India. Or that he actually parked the Mayflower in October of 1492 at all--let alone, on the 12th. But all that's academic now; he actually docked the thing on the second Monday in October, as we now know...so we all could have a bank holiday, and take advantage of Macy*s sheet sales.
I also liked it better, back when Pluto was a bona fide planet. But that doesn't mean it has to be, if science proves otherwise.
Like many folks my age, I'm
used to "Mount McKinley" being the tallest peak in the Western
Hemisphere...but I'm perfectly okay with going BACK to "Mount Denali," if
that's what it was really called, hundreds of
years before we European invaders came along. After all, Denali is not a river in Alaska.
And yeah, I've always loved a good Redskins-Giants football game...but should our relatively recent sense of white "tradition" supersede the obvious INSULT to the 'Indians' we used to call "Redskins?"
My point is simple:
Despite
what O'Reilly, Limbaugh, Hannity and Beck keep telling you, there's definitely something GOOD to be said, for "political correctness."
Without tact, deference, or decorum, we inevitably descend
into The Land of Trump--wherein snark is king, disparaging comments pass for "intelligence," and everyone is...what's the word I'm looking for, here? Oh yeah: Nuts.
So, if I was "for it, before I was against it," regarding the Redskins or Pluto, or the 'Indians' or even Columbus Day...so what?
I
personally have no problem changing my mind, to make other people feel better about
themselves--or correcting myself if I've been wrong; or seeing things another way, given the wisdom time is supposed
to bring us all.
Maybe we should even re-name "Columbus Day."
I hereby nominate
"Stop Pretending You're Always Right" Day! Or how about...
They still sell
these illustrations on the streets of New York City for five bucks or so, but I guess not
too many people frame them and hang 'em in their laundry rooms. (Any
wonder I'm single? )
Like a few of you, I'm sure, I am old enough to have seen all
Your faithful correspondent, 1978
these guys play
baseball together at Yankee Stadium several times, as far back as the
fabulous 1961 season. I can still remember every player at every
position that year, and even their back-ups. (As comedian Robert Klein
once put it, "I had a permanent 'NY' dent in my forehead!") You knew Yogi was as much a legend as anybody there...there's a reason there
are three guys in the above illustration, and not just two. He was
in his sunset years by the time Roger Maris came along, and yet it
never seemed odd to us kids that Berra was the last guy in the lineup
who'd actually played in the '40s, with Rizzuto, DiMaggio, Crosetti, and
the rest. Back when Yogi came up, the Yankees still carried six
catchers on their roster, and first-stringer Bill Dickey wore the number
"8." They'd never need six catchers again. Nor would there ever
again be any doubt--even with all of Dickey's own accomplishments--who
eventually OWNED the (now retired) #8 Yankee uniform.
Jerry
Seinfeld often jokes that these days, baseball fans just 'root for
laundry'--since the players change teams so often, we hardly know their
names. Not so, in Yogi's time. I can still remember watching the games on WPIX, (Channel 11 in NY)...and Berra was the clutchest of all clutch
hitters. While Mickey struggled with his legs and struck out as much as
he homered, and Roger Maris hit what they (unfairly) disparaged as "cheap"
homers over the short right field fence, Yogi was a stone powerhouse.
Credit: The Yogi Berra Museum
But he
could bunt as well as swing away, and he often clobbered the ball to the
upper deck of the opposite field--not something everyone can do. His defensive play behind the plate alone would have made him an all-star. He was like a brick wall; nothing got past him safely. Anyway, that's a thumbnail sketch of the player.
Then came the coach, the manager--and the coach and the manager again. All good. George Steinbrenner never apologized to any Yankee for
anything that I know of, besides
Yogi--who literally stayed away from Yankee Stadium for 14 straight
years after his abrupt firing as manager in '64. (His sin was losing the seventh
game of the World Series to the Cardinals, and it stung even more because he was fired by Ralph Houk, who'd been his own Yankee manager and predecessor.) They should have given him a
*medal* for getting a lousy team that far! (Mantle was literally on his 'last legs,' and Maris had faded almost as fast as he rose.)
During Yogi's extended boycott, every single Yankee fan *knew* something wasn't right
in the world. The team stunk. People lost interest. And even the
acquisitions of Reggie Jackson and Catfish Hunter from the A's wouldn't
"fix" the Yankee spirit, until Yogi Berra came back, for real. It
wasn't until he did, and the team once again got his blessing, that a
new 'Yankee dynasty' was born.
Without exception, Yogi Berra became the most beloved living Yankee. And then there were the sayings--the 'Yogi-isms' which perhaps more than anything, cemented his legend.
Phil Rizzuto (as a Yankee announcer) had started quoting Yogi
"sayings" on slow game days, but it was probably Yogi's boyhood chum from St.
Louis--Joe Garagiola--who actually
enshrined (and sometimes embellished) the stories, endlessly reciting "Yogi quotes," until finally there were
books and talk show appearances, making another whole 'life' for the
Italian fireplug behind the plate. His malapropisms made even Ringo Starr seem like a pale
imitation. Ringo once famously blurted out, "It's been a hard day's night," giving his
bandmates the title for a movie. That was good enough, and very
Yogi-like.
But Yogi was the Heavyweight Champion of such sayings. (Ogden Nash may have been his equal, but he made his stuff up on purpose. Yogi Berra was truly 'a natural.') Now that he's gone, the internet will no doubt add FAKE quotes to all the
real ones, as it likes to do, with all kinds of memes that start out
accurate and end up fiction, because that is the time we live in--when
people attempt to feel 'legendary,' by attaching something THEY thought
up to a famous name, not their own. What a world, eh? That
widespread (and relatively new) lack of integrity was foreign to Yogi
Berra. In fact, he was so modest, he'd often shrug when asked about a
particularly famous quote, and say "I'm not sure. They TELL me I said
it..." His humility had the ring of truth you can bet will disappear
within a few months, as one after another, folks add their lame quotes
to his image, and pretend. (Just like they have with 'George Carlin' and so many others.) That's the age we're in now. The age of liars. Photoshop. False colors and enhanced images. Yogi Berra came from another time entirely, which wasn't over 'til...well...it really is over now. And ya know what? Yogi was right about the whole game, be it baseball or life. "...it got late early."
____________________________ This opinion column is Copyright 2015 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.
____________ Here's a cool one hour documentary about Yogi Berra. Enjoy...
Thursday is Election Day, here in
Nashville. We will pick a new Mayor for the first time in 8 years of
unprecedented growth. No matter how you vote, I urge you to vote! Here are my own thoughts on this election. By Peter Rodman
The notion that all liberals must vote for Megan Barry for Mayor of Nashville is preposterous. Just below you will find one of her numerous TV ads (called "Earn") which repeats over and over again how she’s going to “earn” our votes. The plain fact is, she hasn’t. On the issues we all care about most, Ms. Barry has been vague, if not slippery. But my instinct would still be to support her, because I disagree with (the more conservative) David Fox on even more issues. The problem with Ms. Barry, for me, is one of trust. Look for yourself:
"I want to earn your vote," she says over the music, "because these are fights that I am willing to keep fighting!" ...huh? Now watch the above Robert Redford scene from The Candidate, and draw your own conclusions.
Any of Megan Barry's ads (or speeches) could just as accurately be called “Continue,” because her obvious intention is to continue the mindless madness of ‘growth without purpose’ that has recently begun obliterating the Nashville I moved to, over 25 years ago.
Downtown Nashville, 2015~ Photograph Copyright 2015 by Peter Rodman.
Current Mayor Karl Dean has giddily welcomed the world to Nashville, lopping 90% of his attention (and our resources) into a single square mile of our 7,500 square mile city: ...downtown. He has shown laughably little interest in outlying areas-- which, let's face it, produce few politically beneficial headlines. Police and Metro Codes enforcement are a joke everywhere else but downtown--and I'm not just talking about “cars on lawns,” although that should have been cracked down on years ago. (Just try selling your house, next door to some slob whose lawn is littered with vehicles.) Just this year, Mr. Dean attempted to fob off the entire downtown jail on Near South Nashville, in order to clear out yet another classic building...so developers could erect even more condos downtown. The madness has got to stop--and the sad truth is, it WON’T stop, under a ‘Mayor Megan Barry.’
I have repeatedly been told Megan Barry’s a nice person, and I believe that. More than one friend has written that I should “Have coffee with her!” as a remedy for any nagging doubts about trusting her to be more than just a continuation of the voracious 'Karl Dean Growth Machine.' I don’t need to.
From the earliest days of our seven-candidate scrum, Ms. Barry--and no one else--was the candidate whose campaign first pulled a smear campaign. It was nasty, too. As Bill Freeman (a fellow liberal) outspent and out-polled his six rivals, Ms. Barry used her connections at The Tennessean to parlay story after (inaccurate) story into portraying him as a right wing conservative. For example: Freeman is pro choice, and a ‘pro life’ group of protesters followed him around for several days, finally tracking him down in a parking lot, where they videotaped him answering their taunts, by saying he agreed that abortion shouldn’t be used as birth control--an obvious way to get rid of these pests. Quite strangely, Megan Barry was there before the story was even written--the ONLY candidate asked for (or ready with) a retort for publication---and although she knew it was inaccurate, immediately painted Freeman as ‘anti-choice.’ The next morning’s paper carried a headline to the effect that ‘Freeman Speaks to Anti-Abortion Group,’ as if he had given some kind of speech to them in support of their ‘pro life’ views! It was this kind of chicanery that gradually whittled away liberal votes from Mr. Freeman, until Barry eeked out a narrow victory. The Tennessean later endorsed Ms. Barry, though the slant of its ‘story telling’ columns was transparent from the very beginning. It then proceeded to chip away at Mr. Freeman’s commanding lead, by citing “polls” that turned out to be Barry-sponsored. (These are commonly known as ‘push polls,’ designed to ask questions which lead to a desired answer--thereby puffing up the numbers for a given candidate. No reputable news organizations report them as ‘news.’ The Tennessean has pretty much damaged its reputation beyond repair, during this mayoral race.) Essentially, “the fix” has been in for Megan Barry, from the start. In the early going she spent very little, as free publicity emerged from the paper. Meanwhile, Barry quietly held fundraiser after fundraiser, in the kind of homes where the crown molding and nick-nacks alone cost nearly as much as most other Nashville dwellings.
David Fox has long sought to be portrayed as the ‘fiscally responsible, conservative’ candidate--code words for the usual 'austerity' Republicans tout as the solution to everything, these days. I have never voted Republican in my life, and don’t intend to start now. And yet… What if paring back our ‘It City’ bullshit resulted in a return to paying attention to how we grow, instead of just growth-for-its-own-sake? What if fewer resources were siphoned off from the rest of the city for downtown, and more attention was paid to details--like the depressing collection of Gannett circulars piling up in driveways all over town, while that conglomerate continues to chuck ‘em in driveways overnight, every Wednesday? The amount of trash that generates weekly--from literally hundreds of thousands of yellow plastic bags that do NOT go away, and often are left to rot for weeks or months at a time--is staggering.
It's technically illegal...but Mayor Dean looks the other way. What if he didn't? It’s precisely the kind of ‘boring’ detail Karl Dean abhors. Unless there’s a blue ribbon to cut--and a high profile ceremony to go with it--Mayor Dean would rather not even be there.
Megan Barry’s backers--including Gannett Publishing, Karl Dean, and most of our mega-developers--consist almost entirely of the entrenched towniecontingent. Most of her support comes from Belle Meade and Green Hills, where incomes are high and very few neighborhoods endure the kind of ‘shoebox-building’ on tiny house lots we’re seeing in East Nashville and elsewhere, these days. Ms. Barry has been Mayor Dean’s most solid supporter, on
Nashville's "Mass Transit," circa 2015:
A man waits on Nolensville Road for one of the
'hourly' buses that never seem to arrive. Photograph Copyright 2015 Peter Rodman.
everything from the insulting and ridiculous “AMP” bus lane proposal (connecting West End to East Nashville, instead of North to South, where people actually need a better bus system) to charter schools--which increasingly siphon tax dollars away from our public schools, and into a select few 'better performing' ones.
Here’s my opinion on charter schools: I gladly pay my school taxes, though I have no children. But can I withdraw MY tax dollars from public schools, for another purpose of my own choosing? Of COURSE not!!! Neither should you, as a parent, be able to do so. I fully sympathize with your desire to better educate your kid…but the Public School system only works when we all pitch in to it, period. If schools are under-performing, the answer is more resources--not withdrawing tax monies from them to fund your family's individual desires. Charter schools aren't "choice"--they're welfare for the few, at the expense of the many. Nashville’s public schools deserve better. Neither Mr. Fox nor Ms. Barry is in the right place, on this issue.
I always assumed I’d vote for Ms. Barry, until I finally saw all the debates, and realized I don't see much substance behind the pleasant, slightly-forced smile. She speaks in platitudes. It’s scary how her vagueness gets rewarded, too--because tons of corporate 'growth' money has lined up behind her. Never forget, her underlying message is this: “Continue the Mayor Dean legacy.”
There are many great things Dean has done, mostly by picking low-hanging fruit and taking obvious paths. After all, downtown Nashville was more or less an empty canvas, when he started! There was virtually no residential housing downtown back then, compared to now. But he’s managed to “grow” a theme park, not a real city. There’s not a single drug store, grocery store, or hardware store--think about that--in all of downtown Nashville! Name any other major city you could say that about. You can’t...because it doesn’t exist.
~ Nature is losing the fight, in downtown Nashville's 'Gulch' ~ Photograph Copyright 2015 by Peter Rodman.
As Bill Freeman pointed out in the first mayoral debate, Nashville ranks #49 in American cities, size wise. The Top 48 cities all have REAL mass transit--meaning some sort of RAIL system, or a vast network of buses, or both. But Nashville hasn’t bothered to even consider anything on the scale that it desperately needs--and the sooner, the better. We are slowly watching our city strangle itself, with congestion and growth. “The way I figure it, we’re 10 years behind--and even if we start tomorrow, it’ll take that much more time just to fund, plan and build a mass transit system,” Freeman said. "So that's a total of 20 years behind, but we're still gonna need real mass transit connecting all these areas." A network of REGIONAL TRAINS linking one end of middle Tennessee to the other seems like the obvious answer--but no candidates besides Freeman showed even the slightest interest in it. Both Fox and Barry have continued to use generalities like “every neighborhood counts” in their stump speeches…but neither has offered anything substantive, that would effect real change. In my opinion, we've ended up with a runoff between amiable (Barry), goofy (Fox), but sadly unimaginative candidates. So it all boils down to this: If neither candidate is my cup of tea, which one do I think would do the LEAST damage to the city I love, during the next four years? Mr. Fox is diametrically opposed to my every stand on social issues, I’m sure. After all, he’s conservative--I am liberal. But Ms. Barry’s emphasis on social issues is an insult to our intelligence. (What the hell does the MAYOR have to do with a woman’s right to choose, gun control, or ANY of that stuff? The answer is “nothing.”) And yet, Barry’s ad campaign and debate fodder has been peppered with these topics, as if to obscure her voracious appetite for unfettered GROWTH. (She in fact supported Mayor Dean’s idea to move the jail out of downtown, and foist it upon South Nashville to clear the way for more downtown development--something she rarely talks about, and a direct indication of her intent to “continue” --her word--the Dean legacy.)
Have you had enough growth yet, Nashville? ...because I have! At this point, I've reluctantly decided I am ***anti-growth.*** We need to put the brakes on, and reconnoiter. Regroup. We need a plan. It's not that we have such a bad growth plan; it's that we have no plan. ('Just Keep Growing' is not aplan.)
I’m not sure how badly Mr. Fox's ‘austerity’ will affect this town, other than to slow it all down a bit. And seeing as how that’s not necessarily such a bad thing, I’m going to hold my nose and vote for him. Because fighting back against mindless growth is the real "fight worth fighting," Megan.
_________________________________________________________________________ This Opinion Column Copyright 2015 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.
As I write this, in the wake of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia's death, his body is barely even cold (let alone buried)-- but already, Senate
Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and others are threatening to
block any potential Supreme Court nomination by President Obama, preclusively suggesting, "We should let the new President do it." 
