Pre-existing Condition
Before the run
the walk.
Before the walk
the crawl.
Before the crawl
the sitting up.
But before the word
the song
*
Miami Beach
Home to heat, hurricane
and lightning veins
ocean fronts in two-toned water
and a chiaroscuro of sky
on this day that clings to the shoulder season
that has dragged down the sun
so that it lies beyond a chalky horizon
like Banquo’s ghost presiding
over a lost banquet at sea—
advisory in effect.
A beachcomber wanders
amidst seashell and driftwood complexity
along the French curves of egg cream foam
singing a song from his mother’s knee
a state of oblivion
far from home.
Featuring...
Al Jolson and Blackface
Quote of the Month
Why This Camel?
Two Short Poems Reconsidered
A Celebrity Sighting:
The Other Robinson
muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy in some ironic or absurd way.
Al Jolson and Blackface
His having died in retirement in 1950, “Jolie” was before my time. But I’ve been thinking about him a lot these days. Credit or discredit the renewed interest in this legendary entertainer, to the blackface disclosures that have come out of Virginia. So much so, I decided to view, yet again, “The Jolson Story” starring Larry Parks (which earned him an Oscar nomination in 1947). So much so, that I took to the internet in search of some further perspective on the man and his times.
Blackface has been around since the 1830’s beginning with the minstrel shows, a genre that Jolson embraced in 1908 when he joined Docksteader’s Minstrels. Three years later, he was on his own and became a mega star by way of Broadway. This is inconceivable today.
Not the rapid rise to stardom, but can you imagine a modern entertainment superstar singing in blackface? How about at half-time at the Super Bowl? Which would have been, by the way, a most compatible venue for Jolson with his over-the-top and knock ‘em dead style. “You ain’t heard nothing yet! The resta’ the game may be starting a little late folks. I got a hundred yards of songs for ya’!” And the optics of a man in blackface singing “Mammy” while taking a knee at an NFL game? Priceless.
While Jolson’s star rose from the stage, it would soar to even greater heights in ‘27 with the release of “The Jazz Singer,” the first feature film to use sound and some synchronized dialogue. He was dubbed “The World’s Greatest Entertainer.” It could also be said that he was The World’s Greatest Benefactor of Blackface. And the two really came together in this blockbuster and box-office smash of a movie, crude as it is by today’s cinema standards.
People reportedly milled about after the show on opening night chanting “Jolson! Jolson! Jolson!”
Again, how could this be? Did no one notice? Did no one question it? A black man being depicted in a most stereotypical condescending way? The usual answer given, being something along the lines of “It was simply a part of the culture at the time.”
So clearly, this man had to be a racist to indulge in this guise, right? To the contrary. To sum up what I’ve harvested from various sources including quotes by African-Americans of the time:
Though he could be an egomaniacal butthole, "Jolson would leave the faucet on in his dressing room so he couldn’t hear the applause for the acts preceding him,” recounted Groucho Marx, not where African-Americans and their right to a share of the stage were concerned. A complex man was he.
And while he has always been the face of blackface, though he didn't always appear in blackface in his act, he's hardly alone in applying such greasepaint to the roar of the crowd. A list formed within the following parameters turns up almost 300 names!
“Entertainers known to have performed in blackface makeup, whether in an overtly racist
or comic ‘minstrel’ role, as satire or historical depiction of such roles, or in a portrayal of
a character using racial makeup as a disguise for whatever reason.”
Most are forgotten or obscure to us now, but some are legends including…
John Wayne Judy Garland
Elizabeth Taylor Shirley Temple
James Cagney Frank Sinatra
Joan Crawford Jimmy Stewart
Bing Crosby Sofia Loren
Bob Hope David Niven
And from TV Land, past and present…
Desi Arnaz (in an episode of I Love Lucy)
Clayton Moore (in an episode of The Lone Ranger)
Carroll O’Conner (in an episode of All in the Family)
Ted Danson (1993, Friars Club roast of his then girlfriend Whoopi Goldberg)
Johnny Carson (1976, a Tonight Show sketch)
Jimmy Fallon (on Saturday Night Live)
Jimmy Kimmel (on The Man Show)
Classic Title
“Jolson was infamous for sticking his neck out for the equal treatment of performers (such as Cab Calloway)…fighting against black discrimination on Broadway as early as 1911…promoting black playwrights and dancing troupes and being the only white man allowed into an all-black nightclub in Harlem. The black community accepted Jolson with open arms as an ally, a friend, and a voice.”
“His liberal views on race and his belief that African and Jewish Americans (he was born Asa Yoleson in Lithuania and came to New York as a child), had a shared experience of discrimination and hate, gave his performances depth and meaning that was missing from most white blackface entertainers before and since.”
A few contemporaries are especially surprising…Sarah Silverman, Lady Gaga, Joy Behar.
Groups, anybody? The Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy.
Even some African-Americans have gotten into the act.
Louie Armstrong
Sammy Davis Jr.
Flip Wilson
Stepin Fetchit
Bill Robinson (in vaudeville)
Pigmeat Markham (a regular on Laugh-In)
And of course, Billy Crystal, who caused a brouhaha as recent as 2012.
In a film clip he created specifically for the 84th Oscars, he reprised his Sammy Davis Jr. impression from his Saturday Night Live days. With an estimated 65 million viewers worldwide, it was clearly the largest audience ever to see a white performer in blackface.
Many found the decision questionable at best, since it had little or nothing to do
with either the immediate context of that part of his intro, or the Oscars in general.
Noting the polarizing reaction on Twitter and the blogosphere that followed, a CBS editorial posed these interrelated questions:
“ Is there a difference between comical impersonation and cartoonish derision, if it’s a white performer playing a character of color? In today’s climate, is there a difference between 'blackface' and a white person wearing makeup to look black for the purpose of comedy? ”
And where there’s controversy concerning race, there’s Megyn Kelly. She who once maintained that Jesus Christ and the fictional Santa Claus, were white. And before her firing from NBC last month, stated that putting on blackface for Halloween is OK. Which she walked back posthaste.
“Yesterday I learned….that given the history of blackface being used in awful ways by racists in this country, it is not OK for that to be part of any costume, Halloween or otherwise.”
In the interest of full disclosure, I too once performed in a Jolsonian manner, though in my own white face. It was for a fund-raising show harking back to a 1930’s style entertainment under the title Broadway Nights and Radio Days.
I never had the slightest thought of putting on blackface. And while otherwise chewing up the scenery, I never took that patented Jolson knee either, your honor. Though I did have the chutzpah to proclaim at one point, “You ain’t heard nothing yet!”
A Saturday Night Live skit with Kenan Thompson last month made the point that blackface is never ok. It was done in a satirical manner of course, yet SNL itself , in addition to the aforementioned Crystal schtick, has had other cast members put on blackface over the course of the show’s 4-decade run. Producer Lorne Michaels was then quick to note that none of them ever lampooned or was derogatory toward African-Americans.
So where does one net out on all of this?
There has already been much discussion following Virginia, on why blackface is so derogatory given the context of American history. No need to rehash what has been said on that count. But bottom line, when you cut through all the nuance, all the parsing of words in explanation, all the discussions as to where to draw the line, all the irony in that a Washington Post poll showed that nearly 60% of African-Americans want Governor Northam to stay on the job, I’m still left with a question that I have not seen addressed anywhere: just why have so many white folk, over such a long period of time, been drawn to putting on blackface? Why the obsession? There is something about it that borders on the fetishistic.
The minstrels and vaudeville are long gone. And along with it, the license to hide behind a black face regardless of context. It all strikes me not so much as sociological, but psychological. And the couch isn’t big enough to hold all the patients.
Quote of the Month
Why This Camel?
“A camel is a horse designed by committee” is a droll aphorism, to which anyone who’s ever worked on a committee would probably subscribe. Though its source isn’t definitive, the line is generally attributed to Sir Alec Issigonis. He was a British-Greek designer of cars who was influential in the development of the “Mini,” launched by the British Motor Corporation (BMC) in 1959. He was held in high esteem within the U.K., and even received the high national honor of Most Excellent Order of the British Parliament (MBE).
Given his design sensibility, which leaned towards clean lines and understatement, while in the process in one case also providing a utilitarian response to the Suez oil crisis of 1956, he may very well have said it. It would be apt. This is no "camel."
But this is.
We're looking at a seven-person tricycle.
Was it really designed by a committee? I don’t know, but it epitomizes how an overthought and overwrought idea can wind up as a “camel.” It falls into the category of creating something regardless of how ludicrous, simply because you can. Sir Issigonis would be turning over in his grave if he hadn’t been cremated.
It recently wandered on to my PC screen by way of Hammacher Schlemmer. On the slim chance that someone might not have heard of this high-end retail establishment, it’s been around since 1870 here in New York. Its modus operandi is gadgetry for the person who has everything. Which is another way of saying, an enabler for the well-heeled who are looking for new ways to piss away money. The price tag? A mere $20,000. Not including tax and the $650 shipping fee.
Though I hardly match the profile just described, I’ve apparently fallen into their targeted prospect base (“and I can’t get up”). Why? While slumming through their store this past December as a form of entertainment, I did wind up puchasing a $40 toy as a Christmas gift. The assumption was that this Harry Potter novelty that caught my eye, would only be available at “The Schlem.” It was a whole two days later, that I saw it at Bed, Bath & Beyond, and at half price! (I’m still stewing about it as spring approaches).
So having been ripped off for a couple of “Jacksons” (soon to be joined by “Tubmans” in 2020), they now think I might be 500 times a greater sap, and have $20k to spare on a convoluted contraption concept? Which in a way, I’m flattered. At this age, most pitches I get are for products aimed at the decrepit. And just the other day, St. Michael’s Cemetery made me an offer I can’t refuse? A once-in-a-deathtime discount on a crypt! Though if I don’t respond, what are they going to do, kill me? Yet I just might. I don’t want to make an ash of myself. But to return to the matter at hand, why this camel?
From Schlemmer’s lips to God’s ears:
“This is the only tricycle that accommodates seven adults and facilitates close-knit conferencing during joy rides.
The seven seats each have a set of pedals that riders can operate simultaineously to propel the tricycle up to 10 mph, encouraging social interaction and team-building while pedaling.”
In fact, it actually is billed as a “Conference Bike.” Which immediately raises some serious questions.
Suppose all the pedalers are not in sync? Or someone’s not pedaling their weight? Can’t this cause friction and unravel any potential close-knitness? It’s a blame-game waiting to happen.
What if you have a department or company of more than seven people? This can only encourage animosity and backstabbing as people vie for one of those coveted seats. And what of those who don’t make the cut? And imagine the ensuing gossip that “so and so only got a seat because he/she’s ‘asleep’ with the boss at the wheel.”
Can’t you just as easily encourage social and team-building by drinking? Or am I setting the bar too low? But please do not attempt to pedal if under the influence. Riding a bicycle in an altered state actually is punishable in some way in every state. No joke. And a Conference Bike DUI, can only be a cog in the wheel of a kumbaya journey. (I wonder if a cop need conduct seven separate sobriety tests to determine the guilty party, or is the whole group guilty by associative pedaling?).
For those “under-the-hood” types, know that this mechanism veritably hums! Check out these features:
“Dual independent hydraulic brake systems. Circular jointed drive shaft. Porsche-engineered rack and pinion steering. Completely covered drive train to protect the mechanism from from dirt and dust. Pedaling also powers an internal dynamo that illuminates two headlights.” (Of course you’ll want to
take a seven-person pedaling vehicle that goes 10 MPH out at night and in traffic).
As there doesn’t seem to be an opportunity to test ride before buying—there’s hardly a Conference Bike Dealer nearby— I suppose one has to get the sense of what this experience might look and feel like, simply on the basis of this promotional photo. (Though the camel is mine).
But before buying, let us not forget that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle, than for a niche man to enter the kingdom of geek.
Two Short Poems Reconsidered
Though I wrote these years apart with no intended connection, I see now that there just might be one. But this is why a lot of people hate poetry, what with its ambiguity and intimations. ”Say what you mean!” And… “What is or isn’t a poem anyway?” As Groucho Marx once said, “My favorite poem is one that starts ‘Thirty days hath September’ because it actually tells you something.”
In any case, to lazily coin a clichéd segue, the photo accompanying the aphorismatic first poem, serves as a punctuation mark that doesn’t exist on a keyboard and doesn’t resort to digital imagery (aka emoji). The second, contains no such contrivance. Nor apology to they who dwell in the Sunshine State.
A Celebrity Sighting: The Other Robinson
It occurred almost ten years ago and was brief. But it struck me in a way that moments in irony or metaphor usually do. And I did a short piece on it in a Muse-Letter, which upon hearing of his death last month, I dusted off and re-edited.
While shopping in Gelson's (supermarket extraordinaire), I spotted him in the Fresh Produce section. As I approached, I said in whimsy, “Is that you?” “Yeah, it's me,” replied Frank Robinson, Hall-of-Famer, ranked Number 22 on The Sporting News list of the 100 Greatest Baseball Players. Ever.
Unlike Jackie Robinson, Frank is virtually unknown to the masses. Even though he would go on to become the first African-American manager in Major League Baseball history, 27 years after Jackie broke the color line. A rather big deal if you think about it. Or even if you don’t.
While as a baseball fan, I saw and know of the greatness of Frank Robinson, this was what you might call a “niche sighting" as far as celebrityhood goes. An “A-lister” would be someone, as Jay Leno once said in defining stardom: “You're not famous until my mother has heard of you.”
40 years prior, Frank Robinson made one of the greatest catches in a game-saving situation, that I've ever seen in my now 60 plus years of following baseball. He literally leaped into the right field stands at Yankee Stadium to rob a player (Roy White) of a home run that would have won the game for the Yankees. Instead it was the last out in a Baltimore Orioles victory.
As he emerged from a crowd of fans almost 20 seconds later, slightly dazed, holding the ball aloft, the umpire finally signaled “Out!” How he hung on to the ball under those circumstances I’ll never know. Or did he hang on to that ball? Out of sight in the stands for so long, who knows? I thought here was a chance to ask him.
But now at 75, there he was dropping a couple of pieces of fruit and in the process of slowly bending down to pick them up. I decided it best to move on.
And here's to you Mr. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who play. That well.
finito
