Monsoon's Weather Update for Tuesday, 20 May 2008
My friends,
I’d like to begin by saying Happy Birthday to our trusty companion Sasha, who was born on this day a number of years ago (a lady is never asked to reveal her age).
(And, so she doesn’t feel left out, hello to her younger sister Ruthie too.)
Below is the weather forecast; I will send an update if it appears this weekend’s weather will be substantively different from what I’ve indicated here.
Weather narrative: Rainy and cool today; there’s a chance of a shower or two tomorrow, but it shouldn’t be a washout. Then things really get nice for the long Memorial Day weekend: as of now, Friday through Monday look fantastic.
Next week looks to be rather pleasant as well for the most part, but rain will return by the end of the week. Next weekend is looking wet and dreary, unfortunately.
Beyond the forecast: Looking for a warm-up into early June. Specifically, June 2nd (Mifflin’s graduation) looks to be in the 80s with the chance of afternoon or evening thunderstorms. (At least there’s no need for lining up outside the Intermediate School prior to commencement this year, which will be held in the Sovereign Center.)
Monsoon Martin’s Open Letter to The Roots re: Deerhoof
Dear Legendary Roots Crew,
Have you heard of “tough love”? It’s when a friend or family member sits you down, fixes a grave stare upon you, and initiates a frank discussion about some shortcoming you have or some baffling behavior you’ve engaged in.
And before we get to the “tough” part, let me—as one should in any intervention that hopes to be successful—talk about the love I have for you.
I have been a rabid fan of your Grammy-winning, authentic hip-hop selves since hearing your song “Proceed II” with jazz institution Roy Ayers on the Red Hot + Cool compilation way back in 1995. I bought your first major-label album, Do You Want More?!!!??!, and instantly loved Black Thought’s flow and witty rhymes, ?uestlove’s inventive percussion, and the organic sound of it all. At a time when hip-hop was succumbing to widespread sampling and stale, programmed backing music, The Roots burst on the scene with live instrumentation, a multiplicity of influences, and fierce talent.
When you released your second major label album, Illadelph Halflife, I was at the release party at the now-defunct HMV Records in Philadelphia at midnight on September 24th, 1996.
Ahmir “?uestlove” Thompson, I’m sure you recall greeting us at the door and shaking my now-wife’s hand as she gaped at your massive, Afro-topped frame—6’ 5”, with the Afro 6’ 9”, apologies to Fletch. I’m sure you also recall that I excitedly notified my then-girlfriend as we walked away, “That was a Root!” (for I was not yet a dedicated enough fan to know the name of each band member). And you might finally recall—and who could blame you?—thinking to yourself at that moment, “White people.”
You played for free that night and rocked that store off its foundation with songs like “Concerto of the Desperado” and “Clones,” among others. Rahzel, the human beat-box who was in your employ for a time, was particularly outstanding during this intimate performance.
[For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with The Roots, might I direct you to two videos on YouTube—which you’re free to explore further to find other Roots treasures—that exemplify their artistry and energy in concert. In the first they are performing the song “Game Theory” from the album of the same name; the second video is a recent performance of one of their original hits, “Mellow My Man.”]
We followed you loyally from record label to record label, through band departures (Malik B., Hub) and additions (Kamal, Captain Kirk), through awards, critical successes, and disappointing sales, and popular breakthroughs.
But Roots (here comes the tough love part), What in funkless hell is up with Deerhoof?!!!??!
Deerhoof is an avant-indie-rock band based in San Francisco and has been described by the otherwise competent and reliable music critic Ben Ratliff of The New York Times as “one of the most original rock bands to have come along in the last decade.”
I was blissfully unaware of Deerhoof before I attended my next Roots concert. Billed as “An Evening with The Roots,” the show was held on September 15th, 2005 at the Kimmel Center’s Verizon Hall. I had noticed a full roster of at least five opening acts—none of whom I had heard of—but thought little of it. I had an outstanding ticket, having splurged on a box seat, and would see The Roots in a state-of-the art venue in their (and my, sort of) hometown. I was psyched.
I arrived midway through the “lesser” opening acts, which consisted mainly of local acts, close friends of the band, and other up-and-comers. The two most prominent openers for The Roots were TV on the Radio and Deerhoof. TV on the Radio was quirky but decent, though their set went a little long, and we (along with the overwhelming majority of the crowd) were anxious to see the headliners.
And then, Deerhoof came onstage.
My friends, I like many types of music and have been known to embrace unorthodox or experimental acts in my time. I remember listening to my dad’s Mothers of Invention and Captain Beefhart albums with a perplexed awe. Some of my favorite artists of all-time—Minutemen, John Coltrane, Jethro Tull, Fela Kuti, Rage Against the Machine—are artists who are notable for having blended genres, changed the rules, taken a stand, and dared to be distinctive. I am not some kind of musical ingénue who only likes to hear three-minute pop songs or something with a good beat. I like some goofy shit that ostensibly no one else does.
But I say this to you now: Deerhoof was the most upsetting aural experience of my lifetime.
Onto the stage stepped three slender, indistinctive white dudes who looked like they could have been plucked from any suburban high school’s A/V club. Accompanying them was a short Japanese woman, who appeared from her position onstage to be the bassist and vocalist.
The drummer, Greg Saunier, stepped to the microphone and offered a brief, endearing introduction to the band that went something like: “We’re Deerhoof, and we came from California. We hope you’ll like the sounds we make for you.” It was the very last moment I felt anything but fury toward Deerhoof.
And then they began to play.
Saunier instantly became a human Herky Jerk, playing spastic runs that sounded like snippets from a free-form drum solo, never really falling into any recognizable pattern or tempo whatsoever.
The other two guys held guitars and summoned tuneless, often distorted rock chords and the occasional tortured, miserable single note from them, and looked as if they believed they were playing actual music. Their guitar sounds seldom matched the percussive seizures that were happening behind them at the drum kit, as if they were isolated in some sort of invisible soundproof room. (If only I could have found such a room at that moment.)
And then there was the band’s diminutive singer/bassist, Satomi Matsuzaki. Dressed in what appeared to be pajamas, the Japanese-born Matsuzaki—who apparently speaks little English—flailed away inexpertly at her bass guitar, further adding to the musical cacophony. She also sang unintelligible lyrics in a high, gibbering, childish voice devoid of any attempt at consistent pitch.
The aforementioned Ben Ratliff of The New York Times described her thus: “Ms. Matsuzaki, who also plays bass in the quartet, never sang or played an instrument before joining the group 10 years ago, and her thin voice is an acquired taste; many of the English lyrics she sings do not use stresses where normal speech puts them, which can make them nearly impossible to understand.” This is all a very learned, affected way of saying, “The singer is atrocious, but those of you who are so shallow as to demand talent from your musical groups are too unsophisticated to comprehend what Deerhoof is all about.”
What she actually sang about is anyone’s guess. At one point she seemed to be crying, “Don’t eat meat! Don’t eat meat!” as if it were some kind of vegan manifesto, but she could also have been saying “Dominate!” or “Mosley Street!” or almost anything else at all. The lyrics of a song they sang that night, entitled “Flower,” run in part: “Flower, flower, flower / Power, power, power / I come over / I take over!”
[I admit that even my purple, overwrought prose may not be able to convey the actual sounds that confronted us that night when Deerhoof performed, so here are two videos from YouTube of their live performances. The first is entitled “Panda Panda Panda” and encapsulates pretty much all that is wrong about Deerhoof; the second is a live performance of “Flower,” some of whose lyrics are transcribed above. I want you all to check out at least one of these videos, but I must also apologize in advance for the adverse reactions—skin rashes, ear bleeding, and vertigo are not out of the question—you may experience from doing so. I feel like a man who has eaten a bite of a putrid sirloin steak, turns to his dining companions and says, “There’s something hinky about this. Try it.”]
The collective effect of a Deerhoof performance is the musical equivalent of postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida: inscrutable, pretentious, and infuriatingly obtuse. The sounds stop and start jarringly; the noise threatens fleetingly to fall into an actual meter, then veers wretchedly off into oblivion; and overlaying it all are the Minnie Mouse-like screechings of its lead vocalist, indecipherable and ridiculous.
I looked on with an ever-deepening, bewildered despair that I shall never forget as each song set new standards for unlistenability and horridness. At one point I tried to insist that even though the cumulative effect was horrific, I could tell that the drummer in particular was actually quite an accomplished musician; my companion glared at me with such betrayal in her eyes that I quickly realized any attempts to mitigate or elucidate this auditory travesty would be foolhardy.
I looked around at the diverse crowd that had assembled in Verizon Hall to hear their hip-hop heroes, The Roots: hardcore hip-hop fans; WXPN types who had been turned on to the band by their young urban professional friends; fans ranging in age from teens to fifties, easily. I saw everything from tautly polite expressions to gawping outrage, from bitter resentment to trying-to-make-sense-of-this confusion, from naked rage to blissed-out euphoria.
Wait—“blissed-out euphoria”? Yes, there they were: two art-school types, clearly dedicated Deerhoof fanatics, bopping along and gyrating to the strident din being blasted forth at the audience from the stage. They, I said to myself, and probably to my companion, are goddamned insane.
As I endured the hideous din onstage—which by now was calling to mind the irregular, heaving kecks of a vomiting mule—I fully expected one of The Roots to come onstage, halt the performance, and offer profuse apologies for its lack of quality. But unforgivably, and unforgettably, no such Root forthcame.
Deerhoof’s unceasing, blaring racket stretched on and on, seemingly for days, and I began to wonder why you, The Legendary Roots Crew, would have felt it necessary to inflict this desolate clamor upon your loyal and true fans. Have we—who came to support your joyous homecoming, your ascendancy to Philadelphia musical royalty, your acceptance by polite society—have we failed you in some fundamental way? Is this a punishment of some sort? (And if so: message received.)
The other possibility—and this one was almost more painful to consider—is that you guys actually like Deerhoof. And it’s this potentiality that brings us here to this intervention.
Roots, please hear me: Deerhoof is not, as its fans and some critics have asserted, deconstructing traditional structures and eliding the foundations and boundaries of popular music. Deerhoof is not delightfully turning the industry on its head, interrogating accepted paradigms, or meaningfully subverting compositional rules.
Deerhoof is sucking. That is all they are doing. They are sucking, and they are doing it hard. The sooner you come to terms with this, the better off you (and your fans) will be.
The one bright spot during Deerhoof’s set—aside from its eventual conclusion—occurred immediately following a rousing “tune” that featured Satomi Matsuzaki on cowbell, when a member of the audience bellowed, “More cowbell!” alluding to the “Saturday Night Live” sketch about a Blue Oyster Cult recording session.
Happily, you, the Legendary Roots Crew, played a blistering, two-and-a-half-hour set that night at Verizon Hall and I even met Black Thought—which, again, I’m sure you recall vividly—so the Deerhoof unpleasantness receded into the background of my memory. You came into the room led by a New Orleans jazz band (whose members had been displaced by Hurricane Katrina, and whom you—The Roots—had actually invited to stay at your homes), you had great guests like Dice Raw and even a surprise appearance by the incredible, incomparable Jill Scott.
Since that night, I have tried many times to explain to my friends the horror of—and explain to myself the appeal of—Deerhoof, who evidently has quite a cult following. I have a theory I regard as strong, and—as I am anxious to put the whole Deerhoof matter behind me, as one would any trauma—I will share it here and move on with my life. Deerhoof has set itself up as a truly alternative artist in a world of supposedly “alternative” acts that sign with major labels and “sell out.” Critics have decided that Deerhoof is operating on a more complex and urbane musical level than the average person can really get his or her mind around. The net effect of all this is that music critics or indie fans are afraid to not like Deerhoof because they fear being exposed as Beyoncé-loving troglodytes who are incapable of appreciating dense, intricate music.
No one—not even their fans and fawning critics—understands Deerhoof because Deerhoof is unknowable. It is impossible to derive meaning from the nonsensical, just as it’s proverbially futile to try and get blood from a stone. Deerhoof is a stone that has been thrown at my earholes repeatedly, and I want it to stop.
And this brings me to the renewed sense of urgency that necessitated this little talk, my dear Roots.
Last month, I learned that you would be hosting The Roots Picnic at the Penn’s Landing Festival Pier in early June, which promised to be a wildly entertaining show. I was even looking forward to seeing your co-headliner, Gnarls Barkley.
But as my eyes rested on the third name on the billing for this show, I gasped (literally, audibly; I have a bit of a tendency for the dramatics): Deerhoof. And all the old questions came rushing back: Why do you, my beloved Roots, keep wreaking this dreadful band on your fans? How have we forsaken you?
Again, I understand that Deerhoof has opened for plenty of well-known bands, whose devotion to Deerhoof has been described as “evangelical”: Sonic Youth, Wilco, Radiohead, and The Flaming Lips among them. The only explanation I have for any of this is that there’s been a massive psychotic break in the music industry, and that the members of these bands—and yours—are afraid of not seeing the “genius” in Deerhoof, as I posited above. It’s the only explanation I can live with.
Legendary Roots Crew, my plea to you is this: cease and desist any association with the band Deerhoof and drop them from your June show at Penn’s Landing so that I, and legions of your true hip-hop fans, might again feel able to come and see your concerts without fearing exposure to the rancid, devoid musical stylings of Deerhoof.
Sincerely,
Monsoon's Weather Forecast and Imagine Day update for Wednesday, 14 May 2008
My friends,
Imagine Day is an annual event at Governor Mifflin undertaken by the Imagine Project, formed by students in the wake of the Columbine shootings in 1999. The culmination of a week’s worth of events, Imagine Day is an afternoon’s worth of activities involving the entire student body. In the athletic stadium, students can enjoy outdoor activities, watch the performances of student bands, and socialize with their peers in an informal (but supervised) environment. In previous years, Imagine Week has included workshops and other elaborate activities designed to have students interact across their typical peer groups and learn about other cultures and perspectives.
Imagine Day is scheduled for Friday afternoon; rain date is Monday afternoon. To try and help the members of the Imagine Project make a decision about whether or not to postpone the concert, I present the following detailed forecast, with updates to come as they are necessary.
Following the Imagine predictions are forecasts for the rest of the coming two-week period.
Friday, 5/16: breezy and cool with intermittent rain, heavy at times. High 60, low 47.
11am 56 degrees, rain or drizzle; chilly NNE winds 18-12 mph
12pm 58 degrees, showers; chilly NNE winds 8-12 mph
1pm 59 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly N winds 10-15 mph
2pm 60 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly NNW winds 10-15 mph
3pm 60 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly NNW winds 15-20 mph
Monday, 5/19: partly cloudy and breezy. High 66, low 47.
11am 59 degrees, mostly cloudy, light winds; a quick shower?
12pm 61 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
1pm 63 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
2pm 64 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
3pm 66 degrees, partly to mostly cloudy, light winds
Other days…
Wednesday, 5/14: sunny and gorgeous; clouding up later with a thunderstorm possible late. High 82, low 54.
Thursday, 5/15: partly to mostly cloudy and less warm. High 75, low 52.
Friday, 5/16: see above.
Saturday, 5/17: breezy, pleasant, and partly cloudy. High 67, low 49.
Sunday, 5/18: partly to mostly cloudy and windy with a shower or two possible. High 66, low 47.
Monday, 5/19: see above.
Tuesday, 5/20: mostly cloudy. High 65, low 47.
Wednesday, 5/21: mostly sunny and somewhat warmer. High 72, low 51.
Thursday, 5/22: clouds and sun. High 71, low 53.
Friday, 5/23: partly cloudy and pleasant. High 70, low 52.
Next weekend: Memorial Day weekend looks to be rather cool with plenty of clouds but little chance of a shower until Monday. Highs will be in the upper 60s; lows in the mid to upper 40s.
Beyond: The last few days of May look wet and cool before an early-June warm-up.
Monsoon's Weather Update for Wednesday, 7 May 2008
A quick weather update from Monsoon…
But first: congratulations to Senator Barack Obama for his double-digit win in the North Carolina primary and his two-point loss in Indiana; the overall gains he posted in the popular vote and delegate count; and moving us closer to ending this contentious primary battle, knocking Hillary Clinton out of the race once and for all, and allowing the party to focus on defeating McCain in November. (For my previous election coverage, type "Obama" in the weblog's search field on the upper right of the screen.)
Wednesday 5/7: unseasonably warm and mostly sunny with increasing cloud late; a shower or thunderstorm could move through late. High 82, low 56.
Thursday 5/8: partly to mostly cloudy with a shower or two in the afternoon; more frequent showers are likely in the evening. High 77, low 53.
Friday 5/9: overcast, breezy and rather cool with scattered showers throughout the morning and afternoon; tapering to showers in the evening. High 63, low 48.
Saturday 5/10: mostly sunny, breezy and gorgeous. High 69, low 44.
Sunday 5/11: mostly cloudy with evening showers likely. High 64, low 49.
Monday 5/12: chilly with rain and strong winds. High 58, low 43.
Tuesday 5/13: mostly cloudy but clearing late. High 64, low 45.
Wednesday 5/14: clear to partly cloudy and pleasant. High 70, low 48.
Thursday 5/15: overcast with perhaps a shower. High 66, low 46.
Friday 5/16: sunny to partly cloudy, cool and breezy. High 62, low 45.
Next weekend: rainy with highs in the low to mid 60s and lows in the upper 40s.
Beyond: warmer and generally pleasant with highs ascending into the 70s.
Ba-rack, rockin’ it!
Monsoon's Brief "Your Mama Don't Dance" Update
Friends,
Some of you have asked about the fate of Gilbertsville’s Noelle and Doug Croner, the daughter-father duo competing on the creepily vapid (or vapidly creepy?) Lifetime series “Your Mama Don’t Dance.” The season finale aired on 4/18, the day of my original post on the matter.
Well: they won.
The Reading Eagle, of course, was all over the story with a piece appearing nearly a week later, buried on B10. (I guess profiles of old white women and their gardens, pecan pie recipes, and Eagle Scout notices really jam up the news hole.)
Noelle and Doug’s triumph even earned a disapproving nod from the E! series “The Soup” as its Clip of the Week.
The prize for winning “Your Mama Don’t Dance” was a trip for six to Aruba (with a luggage set) and a $100,000 prize. Now living the high life, a triumphant Doug promptly resigned his post as a floating substitute at Mifflin…
Monsoon Goes To Prison - Part Five
“Good writer. Bring him over and I’ll show him the other side of corrections.”
So read the cryptic entirety of Larry Chandler’s reply to Curt, who had sent him my "Monsoon Goes To Prison – Part One" posting and mentioned my impending visit.
Larry Chandler, now warden of the Kentucky State Reformatory (KSR), was warden at Luther Luckett Correctional Complex (LLCC) in the documentary film and a loyal friend to the program. He is known to be a progressive but firm warden; in the film he questions the efficacy of the prison system in and of itself (“Do you feel safer?” he asks) and expresses unwavering support for the Shakespeare Behind Bars (SBB) program.
KSR, built in 1936, now overflows with nearly 2,000 prisoners and is part of the same sprawling corrections network in La Grange, Kentucky as LLCC; like LLCC, it is a medium-security prison. And we had a one o’clock Tuesday appointment there with Chandler.
On Monday as we made our way into and through LLCC, Curt gleefully recited the contents of Chandler’s ominous email to the SBB guys, to the chaplain, to Matt Wallace, to his wife—and each time he did so, I got another little butterfly in my stomach about just what “other side of corrections” meant.
We arrived at the prison and as we ascended the steps to enter the ground floor of the “tower” (which houses the administrative offices), the atmosphere immediately felt different. Do you remember when I said I almost felt as though I was in an “office park” rather than a prison when I was visiting LLCC? Well, son of a bitch if this didn’t feel exactly like a goddamned prison: a large, wrought-iron gate had to be unlocked for us to enter, and clanged shut loudly behind us. There were similar metal detectors, but this time we were in a vast atrium with a three-story-high ceiling above us. This is some Shawshank Redemption-type shit right here, I thought, well and truly intimidated by my surroundings.
Making our way through a network of gates and then upstairs on the elevator, we arrived finally at the warden’s office and waited for him in the hall. Curt—who seems to know everyone who works in these prisons—was warmly greeted by a staff member, who sat down and had a friendly chat with us while we waited. In a few short minutes, Chandler came out to greet us—another “character” from the documentary come to life.
Curt and Chandler spent some time in the warden’s office discussing a former LLCC inmate (and longtime SBB participant) who had been transferred to KSR and was now in the “hole” and potentially in a world of trouble. There was even the suggestion that the investigation into this inmate’s wrongdoing may cast an unflattering light on the SBB program due to his prior involvement with it. Though Curt was clearly saddened by this, he expressed his support for the inmate, saying this did not seem like something the man would do; Chandler insisted that if nothing is proven, the inmate will be in the clear and still on track for his parole hearing in 14 months. (Curt asked if we could meet with this inmate, but prisoners in the “hole” may not receive any visitors.)
After this rather sobering conversation, Chandler led us on a thorough, informative, hour-plus-long tour of the entire prison facility. We began in the hospital wing, where Chandler explained that the state government is increasingly phasing out state hospitals for the criminally insane, and that these individuals are now being housed, evaluated and treated at KSR.
We arrived in a heavily-gated, two-story area where the most dangerous psychologically disturbed inmates are kept in solitary confinement behind large doors, each with only a small window into the cell. On each door, signs are posted with such alarming descriptions as “15-minute watch,” “5-minute watch,” and “violent.” As we talked to the staff psychologist and a case worker, inmates—some of whom peered out the small windows in their cell doors, some of whom could not be seen—could be heard banging on the doors and crying out periodically. Inmate volunteers kept watch through the windows in some of the cells, and the staff members carried on about their business calmly. I found the whole scene unsettling—the fact that these individuals are so disturbed, and the fact that the prisons are being so overburdened in this way. My sister-in-law is studying to be an art therapist and has had several internships in mental hospitals with sometimes-dangerously disturbed patients; this experience gave me a small glimpse (and a deeper appreciation) of the challenges she faces in that capacity.
Warden Chandler said that the inmate in the first cell to the left had recently been let out of cell momentarily when he broke free, climbed up a large, chain-link gate reaching to the second-story ceiling, hung upside down, grinned at the onlookers, and dropped headfirst onto the concrete below. Anticipating my question, Chandler said, “and he’s alright.”
So this was the “other side of corrections.” Lest I think that all of prison life consists of agreeable, seemingly well-adjusted men performing Shakespeare, the warden seemed to be saying by bringing me here, take a look at this.
From there we toured the hospital wing, which was dominated by amputees and prisoners who seemed to be near the end of their lives, shuffling through the hallways and lying frailly in darkened rooms. “You ever hear of people dying in prison?” Chandler drawled. “Well, here it is.” An old man in a hospital gown used a walker to move with painstaking deliberation down the hallway with the help of a physical therapist. We visited a man who seemed little more than a skeletal figure in a room crowded with three beds, into which two inch-wide slivers of brilliant sunshine penetrated.
“It’s a gorgeous day out there,” Curt said. “Is it?” the patient asked, absently.
Chandler had told us outside the room that he’d finally relented and recommended the terminally ill inmate be released, as sometimes is done in such cases, but the parole board denied the request.
When we had left the man’s bedside, Chandler told us that they had lost two men over the weekend, who had died of terminal illnesses. “In those cases, do you make considerations for these terminally ill patients, in terms of family visitations?” I asked. He said that he often clashes with other staff and officials in the prison due to his liberal policy of allowing extended visitations to the hospice ward, located in the center of the prison complex. “One of the guys I just told you about, his family was pretty much camped here all weekend with him,” he said. Such acts of mercy are rare, and help to distinguish Chandler as a progressive warden.
After this sobering tour through the hospice and psych wards, we made our way around the rest of the prison complex, thankfully taking in some uplifting sights along the way. We saw three SBB alumni—including Richard, who is featured briefly in the film—now incarcerated at KSR, whom Curt embraced and introduced to me. I was struck by how pleased they all were to see Curt, and he them—and how desperately each one of them wanted to begin a Shakespeare program at KSR. After catching up and advising each inmate on how to proceed, we moved on.
Warden Chandler, who is retiring next year, shared with us some of his proudest accomplishments since coming to a chaotic KSR several years ago. First, the facility is now 100% non-smoking, which is no small feat in a culture where cigarettes have traditionally been used as currency. He showed us the television studio, which has roughly $250,000 worth of equipment and a full studio. I asked how he was able to find room in the prison’s tight budget for such expenditures, especially given the relative closed-mindedness with which taxpayers tend to view prison programs. He explained that all of the funds for the studio come from moneys made on the commissary, from which the prison takes a percentage of the annual profit.
But perhaps his most fulfilling accomplishment will be the Distance Learning Center (DLC), which has survived two years of planning and red tape and is slated to open later this year. This center—the first in any prison in the United States—will enable inmates to take classes at their own pace and ensure that they will avoid lapses in their education when they move from prison to prison. Educational opportunities are embraced by many prisoners at KSR, and the director of the DLC told us that one of his goals was to make these opportunities meaningful and impactful. “Some prisons throw G.E.D.s at their inmates for the sake of statistics,” he said. What he’s interested in doing is something more.
After touring the educational wing—with law library, traditional library, and several classrooms—we were out on the yard.
[In the above photograph, Warden Chandler (in blue shirt, pointing) leads some Kentucky government bigwigs, including the Lieutenant Governor, on a tour of KSR. Here they’re in the yard; in the distance behind them is the rear of the tower, where the administrative offices are housed.]
The “yard,” for the uninitiated, is a common area that allows for inmate recreation and socialization at certain times of the day; our visit coincided with the time of day during which all prisoners not confined to “the hole” or otherwise engaged in studies or work details were allowed to mill about in the yard. To envision the yard, picture a large municipal park (complete with benches, athletic fields and courts, and small pavilions) where everyone is dressed the same, and (at this prison, at least) everyone is male. Oh, and there is a double perimeter of razor wire-topped fences encircling the park.
Some of the men sat on benches and chatted quietly; another played his guitar softly and sang; a group of men played handball on a regulation court; a significant number lifted weights over at the Iron-Pumping Pavilion; still others seemed to be making their way from building to building (i.e., from their jobs to the library) as college students might make their way across a small campus.
There were no guards to be seen, and even the guards present inside the prison did not carry guns or weapons of any kind. (The warden explained that in an “unrestricted movement” prison like KSR or LLCC, it would be dangerous for guards on the ground to be armed, since an inmate could take such a weapon and cause some serious problems.) But one could see armed sharpshooters at the ready in any number of towers, constantly surveying the activity below them. Somehow, even with hundreds of eyes following us across the yard, I felt relatively safe. I was with the warden, after all.
Seeing a long line snaking into a pavilion attached to a small building in the yard, the warden called out to us, identifying what was happening: “Pill call.” According to Chandler, more than 85% of the inmates are on medication of some sort. When I asked him how many are on anti-depressants or the like, he answered, “800 of our inmates are taking psychotropic drugs.” Out of a population around 2,000, that’s 40%. He added, “is it any surprise that 74% of mentally ill prisoners self-medicate?” hinting at a persistent illegal narcotics problem that is all too prevalent at many prisons.
As we walked across the yard, many of the men greeted the warden as he walked past; well aware that some of these cordial greetings were disingenuous, Chandler would mutter a comment to that effect for our benefit now and again. At least ten different prisoners, when they spotted Chandler, called after him plaintively to speak with him about some urgent piece of business—a problem with a job assignment, a requested transfer, a letter that was never answered. Chandler would shout “Well, catch up!” without slowing down even a half-step, patiently listen to the inmate’s request, offer a solution, and continue his conversation with Curt and me.
Having barely caught our breath from the comprehensive tour with Larry Chandler, Curt and I dashed over to LLCC for the rehearsal. As we were making our way to our seats, Ron said, “Wassup, big man?” while he made his way past me and shook my hand firmly. It was great to once again be recognized, to again be welcomed into this tight-knit family.
Curt began today’s meeting by discussing the case of the SBB alum in the hole at KSR, about which he had just learned from Chandler. Curt could not share all the details of the case, which is still under investigation, but the men—especially the veterans of the group—were clearly disappointed and concerned to hear this, since the inmate in question had gotten married last summer to his high-school sweetheart and was looking forward to potential parole in 14 months.
Since we arrived late, SBB dispensed with the warm-ups and dove right into the final scene of Julius Caesar. Twenty men were present in the chapel today—four African American and 16 white. (This was three fewer than yesterday, and I was surprised that at least some of these no-shows may simply have “blown off” today’s rehearsal.) Nonetheless, I was impressed again by the fact that men who would otherwise seldom associate on the yard regard one another as family here.
As the players geared up to stage the scene, it was taking a while to focus some of the group members on the task at hand. The assistant director smiled exasperatedly and called out to me, as if in apology, “it takes us a minute to burn off the excess energy of the day.”
Finally, the troupe was ready to tackle Act 5, scene 5—the last in the play. In it, Brutus and his soldiers enter the stage, stopping to rest in their desperate retreat. Brutus realizes his life will soon come to an end, and that he would prefer to end it himself, so he asks three of the soldiers—Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius—to hold his sword while he runs on it. All three refuse, but finally Strato agrees to help Brutus commit suicide. Antony arrives on the scene to discover Brutus dead and proclaims him “the noblest Roman of them all.”
As was the case yesterday, there are heated discussions about the choreography and staging of this scene, particularly the three refusals to Brutus’ request. Stephen, who plays Clitus, is a smallish man with thick glasses whose thick drawl and lack of self-assurance as an actor make it difficult for him to infuse his lines with the emotion they require. Several inmates offer tips to Stephen, as does Curt, explaining the passion and outrage he must convey. When he runs onstage and tells Brutus (Big G) that Statilius “is or ta’en or slain” (has either been captured or killed), he needs to do so with the utmost alarm. When he refuses Brutus’ request by saying, “What I, my lord? No, not for all the world. … I’d rather kill myself,” he needs to communicate his character’s indignation, his sadness, and his overriding respect for Brutus.
Looking around at the men engaged in the vociferous exchange of ideas, perfecting their performances, it is almost possible to forget one is inside a prison—that is, until one looks out the window at the razor wire-topped fences gleaming in the bright sun, standing quietly against the bright blue sky.
The rehearsal continues with constant conversation about how to carry out a scene. Here and there, inmates will come over and chat with me: one recounts the time he visited Altoona, Pennsylvania with his friend who did the lighting for the Shrine Circus, then went to Hershey and the toured the chocolate factory, then saw Disney On Ice at Hersheypark Arena; Vaughn comes over and runs some ideas by me for the closing sequence; Stephen asks about my classes and laments the trouble he’s having with the lines. They want to hear about my job, where I live—anything or anywhere else than here, and I realize how suffocating it must be to have such a limited geographic sphere of experience.
During all this, Curt plays his carefully cultivated role: at times he refuses to intervene, making brief comments only to gently facilitate, insisting that the inmates figure out the scene for themselves; other times he takes complete control, offering notes, blocking, and elaborating on stage directions.
Ron, who is playing Messala, again takes a leadership role in the production because of his longtime involvement in SBB. He addresses the group and every eye and ear is focused on his words: “Anybody who’s in any scene, you have a purpose—even if you’re not sayin’ nothin’.” During the performances—particularly those for which the actors’ family and friends may be in the audience—it is vital to resist the urge to wave hello. “You are in character the moment you are seen.” The end of the play, Ron explained, is the “culmination of the long, extended intensity of the whole play. Don’t fuck around and ruin it.”
A brief aside here: those of you who know me well understand that I am a connoisseur of profanity—I believe it enriches our communication (rather than debasing it, as some would suggest), and I believe that there are certain sentiments that cannot but be expressed with oaths and swearing. In SBB rehearsals, “dirty” words are tossed around the room with glorious abandon by Curt and the inmates alike. Shakespeare, of course, was a virtuoso of the blasphemous—God’s bodkins, ‘Sblood, Zwounds, I could go on. Since one of the touchstones of the SBB program (and of my own humble existence) is the power of words—to transform, to heal, to reveal, to astound—allow me to share some of my favorite instances of profanity during my visit:
-
“He’s safe, motherfucker.” – Curt’s acting note to Lucilius in Act 5, scene 4
- “Don’t be fuckin’ around with it.” – admonition against using the “swords” for excessive tomfoolery
- “…or some shit like ‘at.” – regional tic of Kentucky dialect, used often in place of “or whatever,” “and so forth,” etc.
- “A whole shitload of guys just waitin’ to kill ‘em…” – explanation of the final scene’s urgency by Curt
- “Son of a bitch, the torch is out!” – Curt’s acting note to Clitus, on his Act 5, scene 5 motivations
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“I have a mouthful of fuckin’ Novocain, did you forget that?” – Big G to another troupe member who had questioned why Brutus’ delivery was muffled, reminding the gentleman that G had undergone oral surgery earlier in the day. (Vaughn’s comment, following G’s outburst: “And still he showed up.”)
The rehearsal wrapped up around 5:15 as some of the troupe members began to drift away to dinner again. As we made our way out of the chapel and into one of the open walkways in the prison complex, I chatted with Stephen Marshall, the inmate portraying Antony, for a while. He asked about the classes I teach and confessed that unlike many of the other participants in the program, he is not a voracious reader: “I can’t stand reading. But performing it is a whole nother thing.” In this final comment, the inmate provided another potent reason why Shakespeare is perfect for a program like this: not only do his plays connect with the heights and depths of the human condition, but they also allow an additional avenue of access—performance.
As we parted company, the troupe members were disappointed to learn that I would not be able to attend any of their performances this year, but I promised to return next year—when they will be performing “that Scottish play” (as Hal noted that superstitious actors often refer to Macbeth).
On the long drive back to Pennsylvania, I thought about what charges could be leveled against this program by its critics. Some might argue that tax funds should not be dedicated to such an activity, and must only be spent on increased security. I’m reminded of Warden Norton’s response when Andy Dufresne asks permission to petition the state legislature for more library funds: “ Far as they’re concerned, there’s only three ways to spend the taxpayers’ hard-earned money when it come to prisons: More walls. More bars. More guards.” And yet it is only this year and next that taxpayer money will be used to fund the aforementioned tangential outgrowths of SBB; still, none of the NEA grant has been or will be used for SBB.
Maybe it’s a question of what we want our correctional facilities to accomplish. Do they exist simply to segregate that portion of our population adjudged violent or criminal, without any privileges or opportunities? In that case, I suppose I can understand the impulse to “let ‘em rot” behind bars for the crimes they’ve committed, the lives they’ve ruined, the victims they’ve left behind.
But what sort of human beings will emerge when their sentences are up and the corrections system heaves them back into our midst? It would seem to me that we’ll get the same ill-adjusted, volatile individuals—only angrier and more desperate because of the idle, festering time they have served.
And finally, it comes down to a choice I have discussed with Curt and with my students about justice: should it be restorative or retributive? That is, should we focus on punishment or on rehabilitation when designing and populating our ever-expanding corrections system?
Programs like the ones I saw in La Grange, Kentucky—Shakespeare Behind Bars, college courses, Distance Learning, and the like, as well as counseling services—are concerned with the restoration of humanity, the cultivation of the individual. These are the transition services Ron was talking about on the first day, and they are creating better-adjusted, healthier human beings who can handle their everyday problems when they are released. The long-term success of Curt’s program—35 SBB participants released from prison and not a single instance of recidivism—bears this argument out.
It is in our best interest as a society to ensure that those incarcerated are offered the benefits of education, treatment, and opportunity, so that they may ultimately be well, and do well.
END.
A Monsoon Weather Alert for Sunday, 27 April 2008
A strong cold front is moving through, bringing with it moderate to strong winds and some potentially significant precipitation. Rain will begin overnight Sunday and intensify Monday morning and afternoon. Total rainfall amounts could reach an inch or an inch and a quarter. Precipitation may include strong to severe thunderstorms—which would include hail and damaging winds—anytime from late morning through the late afternoon. It all tapers off by the early evening, but clouds will persist into early Tuesday. Monday’s high will reach only the low 60s; overnight low will be in the mid to upper 40s. Tuesday will be markedly cooler with the high reaching only 56; the low Tuesday night will plummet all the way down near freezing.
(Happy Birthday Monday to Harper Lee; Tuesday to Duke Ellington and Eve Plumb!)
The last day of April will be sunny and cool with the slight possibility of showers late. High 58, low 38. (Happy Birthday to Willie Nelson and Kirsten Dunst!)
Thursday and Friday, the first two days of May, look partly to mostly cloudy and a bit warmer with highs in the mid to upper 60s and lows in the mid to upper 40s. (Happy Birthday Thursday to Chuck Bednarik and Joseph Heller; Friday to Christine Baranski and The Rock!)
Next weekend will be warmer still with highs reaching into the low 70s, but there is the potential for some showers and thunderstorms on Sunday.
Next week cools off a bit and will hover around seasonal averages, with highs mainly in the mid 60s and lows in the mid to upper 40s.
MonsoonMonsoon Goes To Prison - Part Four
After the warm-up exercises on the first day of my visit to the Shakespeare Behind Bars (SBB) rehearsals, Ron came over to chat and share some of his experiences. He wasn’t the only inmate who did this, but his story affected me deeply, and so I’ll begin with it here.
Ron elaborated on the story about Curt’s actor and his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) by relating it to his own experience in the armed forces. “The military is designed to strip individuality” away from soldiers, he said; the first phase of basic training is called “socialization,” during which an individual is broken down, then built back up into someone who will follow orders unquestioningly.
The problem Ron sees is that there is no “phase-out” program for the military—or for those being released from prison, really. Whatever programs exist are inadequate, he said. Having served in several operations including Desert Shield in Saudi Arabia, Ron noted that a soldier seeks to solve his problems by following orders. When he gets out into the “real world, it’s like, ‘Now what?’” Coping with the everyday choices we must make throughout our daily lives can be intimidating or downright crippling; the crime rate among veterans suffering from PTSD a far higher than those in the general population.
[Later, Curt shared with me the story of one of the inmates, now at another prison, who was a sniper in the army and had more than 50 kills. When he rejoined civilian life, his mechanism for problem-solving was still rooted in his military experience; as a result he shot and killed two men who had attempted to rape his girlfriend. While discussing his role in a SBB play and the temperate actions his character took when confronted with violence, this man had an epiphany: I did not have to kill those guys.]
After being discharged from the service for rules violations, Ron told me, “I tried to take myself out” and spent nine days in a coma following this suicide attempt. A few months later, still having failed to deal with his psychological problems, Ron took someone else’s life.
What Ron has learned through his participation in the SBB program and the time he has been incarcerated is the importance of the “safety net”—not just that such a system be provided, but that those in similar situations to his recognize that support is there. “Being aware of the people around you” and the help they can offer is paramount.
Despite having grown up in the Victory Park projects in Louisville, Ron told me he attended Trinity High School, an exclusive, all-male prep school. In 11th grade, Ron created a computer program to make fake report cards; when the school uncovered the scheme and contacted home, “my mom came to school with a belt.”
In Act I, scene 2 of Julius Caesar, Cassius delivers the line, “The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” Surely the SBB group explicated this line for its meaning in the context of the play—it’s Cassius’ aggressive plea to Brutus that they transcend their fates and topple imperious Caesar—but also in terms of its meaning for their lives. Where does the fault lie in the inmates’ lives? With their “stars” (destinies) or with themselves? Finding the truth in this passage, and their own interpretations of it, is the central pursuit of the SBB program.
“I’d be a doctor right now,” Ron said wistfully, “if I hadn’t gotten in trouble.”
Today’s agenda is to rehearse Act 5, scene 4 of the play. When each year’s play is selected, Curt gives copies of the work to the SBB participants, who study a monologue and read the play carefully over the summer. In the fall, Curt asks for “epiphanies” and observations, the group discusses the play at length, and the men choose their roles (they’re never cast by Curt). By the end of the year, they’re running through the play at three-day-per-week rehearsals, scene by scene, perfecting the delivery of each line. My visit coincided with the end of this process: the last two scenes of the play. This week and next, the troupe is running through the play, one act at a time; this is followed by dress rehearsals in the beginning of May; performances on the yard and at other local prisons will follow.
Curt explained to me that the group works from the First Folio, or first collection of Shakespeare’s works collected in 1623.
As such, the explanatory notes that are found invariably in modern editions of Shakespeare’s plays (and in the editions used by my students) are absent. The inmates themselves must analyze, explicate, deconstruct, and investigate each line to find its essence before the play can be enacted.
The scene opens with Brutus (played boomingly by Big G) crying, “Yet countrymen, O yet hold up your heads!” and consists of plenty of battlefield fighting. Curt has brought in “swords” made of bamboo. After running through the first 10 lines or so of the scene, Larry DeClue, one of the cast members who also functions as an assistant director, strides to the center of the circle to give notes. It seems the soldiers’ fighting techniques were sloppy, and their entrance left a great deal to be desired.
Most impressive here is the fact that anyone could give “notes” or tips to the actors involved in the scene, and the rest of the troupe listened intently no matter who was speaking. Curt pointed out that during the fight scenes, it is vital to pay attention to one’s partner and maintain concentration and dedication to the scene. “It’s about the intensity,” he said. Every man onstage needs to “stay in the game” and “don’t half-ass it” in performing their roles, however fleeting or minor they may be in this scene. “Remember,” he said, repeating a mantra, “nobility lies in the attempt.” The men are both tough and tender in dealing with each other—one moment offering this kind of stern advice, the next offering gentle encouragement to a struggling actor.
[In the above photo, Curt Tofteland appears with an actor from the 2007 Actors’ Shakespeare Project production of A Winter’s Tale.]
Getting back to the constructive criticism, Ron jumped in. “Remember that you’re going into battle,” Ron offered. “You need to show that on your face.”
The individual pairs of soldiers who will be fighting are encouraged by the assistant director to choreograph their scenes carefully, and no small energy is expended on creating symmetry and authenticity for the performance. (There is even a tumble and some artful dying added to the mix, making this all seem rather balletic.)
During the choreography, it becomes obvious to me that the inmates take the material and their performance of it very seriously, yet there is no shortage of clowning and ribbing.
Looking around the room, I am struck by the broad variety of activities in which the inmates have become involved: one man who was “killed” in the fighting falls asleep for a good thirty minutes; others work on the blocking of their scene; several others not directly involved in the scene chat quietly in a corner. Periodically, the men will run out to the chapel’s lobby to have some coffee or outside the chapel for a smoke break.
I asked Curt about the sometimes free-form mood of the rehearsal time and he explained that it’s done very deliberately. The coffee is donated by the owner of a local coffee shop who was moved by the film Shakespeare Behind Bars and wanted to support the program. The men are allowed to drink coffee, but only in the lobby of the chapel (one man spilled some on the carpet in the chapel space). Curt acknowledged that having men running out for coffee and cigarette breaks “has become a distraction” but insisted that “the guys are given so little free choice, I wanted to see how they’d handle it” when offered that freedom. Another problem he noted is that the men sometimes sneak out early—rehearsal is scheduled to run from 3 to 5:30—so they’ll have more time to spend at dinner. He said he was planning on addressing these issues with the men, not in a scolding way, but by presenting the problems and posing the question of how they might best be solved.
Back to Act 5, scene 4, and Louis is working through the lines of Lucilius as he discovers the body of his friend Cato. Louis is African American and sports cornrows and a Luther Luckett Basketball t-shirt underneath his khaki overshirt. He’s clearly a talented actor and has very obviously worked on his lines outside of rehearsal. He runs through the scene when he discovers Cato’s body and says, “O young and noble Cato, art thou down?” at least fifteen times, varying his delivery, emphasis, and movements based on the feedback of Curt and the other men. One time he muddles past the words “young” and “noble” and Curt snaps, “What is he?” When Louis reruns the line with the words enunciated, Curt offers an approving “Yes!”
Lucilius is captured by Antony’s men and pretends to be Brutus; the men excitedly announce to their captain this prestigious collar. When Antony arrives and asks where Brutus is, Lucilius turns around and says, “Safe, Antony. Brutus is safe enough.” In this scene, Lucilius is reveling in the fact that he has just duped Antony, who has badly miscalculated, and Louis is struggling to match his delivery to this emotion. Curt cuts to the heart of the matter and delivers the spirit of the line: “He’s safe, motherfucker!” In the next run-through, Louis delivers the line brilliantly, with perfect swagger, expression, and weight.
At the end of the scene the SBB production has added an elaborate and effective stage direction: Caesar’s ghost appears (played by Vaughn) and summons the dead strewn around the battlefield; they notice Caesar, crawl toward him, and “exeunt” (plural of exit) the stage, bound for eternity.
At around ten minutes after five, Curt cuts the rehearsal short for a question-and-answer session and says I may grill them as I see fit. By this point, friends, I am feeling overwhelmed by what I’ve seen, I’m still processing it, and I have no real blockbuster questions to ask. But I manage to ask one question, the responses to which sustain us through the rest of the time: “Can you talk a little bit about what this program has meant to you, the impact it’s had on you?”
Curt broke in to explain that of the 23 men assembled there, their experiences both in prison and with the program are widely divergent. The longest-serving inmate in the program has been incarcerated for 27 years; some are recently incarcerated; others expect to be released within the year. They ranged in age from their mid twenties to late fifties. Five or six men indicated that this was their first year with the program—one said he’s been in SBB for only three weeks—while Hal (featured in the documentary film as Prospero) has been with the group since its inception in 1995.
Among the several men who responded to my question, the camaraderie and support they receive from the other members of SBB was cited again and again. Through the program, they interact with men whom they would typically ignore on the “yard” (the communal area where inmates can recreate or socialize during certain times of the day) and learn how to deal with different personalities. Some men, after all, are better at delivering and accepting constructive criticism than others.
Louis said the most powerful aspect of SBB is “discovering things about ourselves through the material.” This is seen again and again in the documentary—inmates come to realizations and have breakthroughs as they study the play and find the truth within their characters.
The program also provides a “foundation for growth,” Louis explained, ensuring that the men will have help in dealing with their problems.
Another participant named Eric, a young white man with a full beard, spoke up and echoed much of what Louis and the other men had said. Many of the men are not adept at dealing with their problems, he noted, and participating in SBB provides a forum for the safe and thorough consideration of these problems. He also thanked Curt directly for his continuing efforts in starting the program and supporting all of its participants.
[Curt told me later that this contribution was nothing short of a breakthrough for Eric, a first-year SBB participant. Eric had been frustrated during much of his time in the program, clashing with other inmates and leaving the group twice—only to return later, but refusing to discuss what had happened. Eric’s acknowledgement of the program’s usefulness in forcing the men to deal with their problems—and his direct recognition of Curt—suggested that SBB had been influencing and helping him in ways few of the men understood until today.]
As the rehearsal broke up, each man said goodbye to Curt, many of them hugging him, underscoring the warm and comfortable rapport he has developed with the inmates over years. The men also shook my hands and Matt’s hands before making their way out of the rehearsal space. Some inmates struck up or continued other conversations with me about Pennsylvania, about my students, and what I thought of the program.
On the way back to Louisville, Curt elaborated on what he saw happening in the rehearsal, and in the program as a whole. The real strength of what happens there is the problem-solving ability the men gain, he said. “Shakespeare is smarter than all of us,” Curt said, and he can serve as a conduit to greater understanding in ways no one could have anticipated. “Shakespeare Behind Bars,” he explained, “is really a course in remedial living” that will prepare them for life both behind and beyond bars.
[Curt’s statement about Shakespeare’s intelligence reminded me of the time I spent in college studying Shakespeare with Dr. Al Cacicedo. A militant multiculturalist, I eschewed the Dead White Men of literature in favor of Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, Amiri Baraka, and other African American authors. The real value lay in politically charged literature, the voice of the oppressed, I was sure. And I still feel these perspectives are among the most moving and important works I have ever read. But Al encouraged me to look inside Shakespeare’s works for their universal truths, for their unforeseen insights, for their lyrical beauty.]
Later that evening, Curt treated me to a lovely dinner at a local Italian restaurant. We discussed the reactions I’d had to what I’d seen, and my students’ reactions to the film. I explained that my students in the class that studied The Tempest and watched Shakespeare Behind Bars tended to be rather sheltered, and that through the film they’d been forced to expand their worldviews somewhat. I also noted that the analysis of both The Tempest (in the film) and Julius Caesar (today) by the inmates was more insightful, more active and robust, than what I typically encounter among my high-achieving, gifted students. We discussed the fact that though my students’ experiences are no less valid, there is no real substitute for life experience. The men in the program have loved, have made horrific mistakes, have lived with crushing regret—and they bring these understandings to their study of the play.
Curt elaborated on a wide range of topics, touching on the making of the film, detailed updates on inmates, and navigating the corrections system to keep his program afloat. I came to understand that introducing and directing a program like this requires an ongoing and delicate interaction with the Department of Corrections to build trust and good will toward the program. Curt told of guards who disliked the program when it began, but who now drive more than a hundred miles to attend performances with their families each May.
He praised the filmmakers for their deftness in telling a complex story. “There are so many different experiences and backgrounds in this program,” he said, “that it’s impossible to look at only one man’s story and get the full picture of Shakespeare Behind Bars.”
A statistic he mentioned several times during my visit—and one that would seem to inoculate the program against those who would criticize it—is this: 35 SBB participants have been released from prison since the program was established, and none of those men has committed a single crime. Thirty-five men and no recidivism. It speaks to the power of the lessons learned in that circle, the cooperation and problem-solving techniques that are cultivated and practiced each time they meet. “‘Teachable moments’ are happening all the time,” Curt said.
It was that statement that stayed with me as I returned to my hotel room and ruminated on all I had seen and heard in that first day. While I was focusing on what these men learned through their participation in the program, what had I learned in my observation of it?
The Shakespeare Behind Bars program, it seems to me, is a validation of what we as teachers do—the very best the learning process has to offer. Our fondest wishes as educators are that the students will develop their critical thinking skills, deepen their understanding of the world around them, learn to communicate effectively with others, cultivate an empathy in considering others’ perspectives and lives, and ultimately uncover their own aptitudes, truths, and paths.
Curt has worked hard to create a program that does all these things for his guys, and for the world.
TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART FIVE.
Monsoon's Weather Update for Thursday, 24 April 2008
The weather :
Weather narrative: Unseasonably warm and dry weather will continue the next couple of days as high pressure stalls over the region. Things will get a bit more turbulent as a slow-moving cold front works through southeastern Pennsylvania over the weekend. There is a small chance of showers or thunderstorms Saturday night and Sunday, but the better chance for rainfall of any note is Monday into Tuesday.
This second cold front will usher in cooler temperatures, with highs staying in the 50s, for the middle of next week. Things get seasonably milder by the end of the week with temperatures rebounding into the upper 60s. Next weekend looks sensational, and beyond that we’re looking into the upper 70s and perhaps 80s the following week.
Good news for Mifflin teachers, though: the newly-installed air conditioning is working reasonably well for most of us, or so it seems. So the days of dreading high temperatures during the school year may be behind us!
Beyond the forecast table: Warmer still with highs in the 80s; rain is possible the 7th or 8th.
Monsoon
Monsoon Goes To Prison - Part Three
“So what kinds of reactions did your students have to the film?”
This was the first question from Curt L. Tofteland, director of Kentucky Shakespeare Festival and Shakespeare Behind Bars, after he picked me up from my hotel to head to the Monday, April 14th rehearsal.
They had reacted in myriad ways, and with broadly divergent thoughts, but what stood foremost in my mind was their initial reaction, which is said to be the most honest.
About 40 minutes into the film, Leonard, one of the troupe members, is suddenly sent to the “hole” (solitary confinement), allegedly for a violation of the computer policy. In a brief interview segment, the filmmaker is heard asking Leonard, “So why are you here?” There is a pause of some 20 seconds, during which landscapes of emotion cross Leonard’s face. He finally answers, “I sexually molested seven girls.” Choking with emotion, he continues, “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done,” and says that he hopes to be able to conduct a meaningful life, somehow balancing the scales, “so that I’m not remembered for the very worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Immediately following this confession, the bell ending the class period was about to ring and I asked my students what they thought of the film so far. Some of them stared forward, some of them looked at me, some shifted uncomfortably in their seats—but none answered. And this wasn’t adolescent indifference; what they had seen had impacted them, maybe even changed them, and they were still processing it. It was a powerful moment for me to witness, and I told Curt about it.
Curt then gave me some background about this scene, which led to a lengthy dialogue about both the documentary film and the program. The filmmakers had been instructed not to ask the troupe members about their crimes. “Nobody talks about their crimes in prison,” Curt explained, and yet the confessions of Hal, Sammie, and Big G had come tumbling out spontaneously on camera.
When Leonard was sent to the hole, disrupting the play’s rehearsals and necessitating that his role be recast, the film crew received special permission to talk with Leonard despite the fact that prisoners in solitary confinement are typically allowed no visitors. (Curt also explained that sex offenders occupy the lowest rung in the inmate hierarchy; cop killers, the highest: indeed, one can hear the other prisoners in “the hole” heckling Leonard in strong terms about pedophilia.)
When the filmmaker asks Leonard in the course of their interview, “So why are you here,” he is actually asking what Leonard has done to be placed in solitary confinement. “Leonard had never talked about his crime, never taken responsibility for what he had done,” Curt told me, “but he was just ready.” He answered the question in its larger sense—why is he in prison—and the results are spellbinding.
Having completed the sex offender program, Leonard had high hopes that his parole would be granted and his 50-year sentence reduced at his recent hearing. Instead, according to Curt, he got a 10-year “flop” (deferment, or extended sentence), which means that he will not be released until he is at least in his late 50s. As a result, Leonard withdrew from prison life, leaving the Shakespeare Behind Bars program (Curt insists on referring to it as a “vacation” when an inmate leaves the program, always leaving the door open for his eventual return). Since then he’s become involved with Luckett’s TV studio and has shown signs of reengaging with constructive programs, so there’s hope he’ll come back to Shakespeare.
Curt then talked a bit about how Shakespeare Behind Bars (SBB) is funded: it has been a condition of his involvement since he founded the program in 1995 that it should never be dependent on tax dollars. He said he periodically receives phone calls from citizens who are angry that their tax money is going to such a program for prisoners. His first response is that the program is free; his second is that he doesn’t really approve of the fact that his tax dollars are being used to fight a war, but he has little say in the matter. This usually ends the conversation rather quickly.
Recently, though, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to expand upon some of the program’s goals through the facilitation of a $25,000 National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) grant. With the funds, he’s continues to be part of the SBB program and restaging the play Julius Caesar at the Luther Luckett Correctional Complex (LLCC); the festival’s education director, Pamela DiPasquale is directing an abridged version of Caesar with professional actors that will tour schools in the area. In addition, an actor/director who works often with Kentucky Shakespeare Festival, Matt Wallace, is conducting a Shakespeare’s Studio Artist Residency with troubled youths ages 15-17 at the Audubon Youth Development Center; they’re also studying and staging sections of Caesar. The teens visited LLCC in March to witness the inmates running scenes and ask questions of them; this week, the students in the Audubon program will return to LLCC to perform a few scenes and share what the program has meant to them.
As we reached the end of our 20-minute drive northeast from Louisville to La Grange and turned in to the prison’s long driveway, Curt told me about some of the rhythms and procedures of entering the prison and what to expect when entering the site of the rehearsal. (When speaking of SBB’s participants, Curt consistently refers to them as “my guys,” which serves to underscore his devotion to these men and his unwavering belief in the value of the program.)
Luther Luckett was built fairly recently (about 25 years ago), so it’s set up more like an office park than a prison: no clanging gates, no towering walls, no imposing architecture. Still, I was reminded I was entering a prison when Curt told me to bring only a photo identification and my notebook, leaving my phone, wallet, keys, and all other personal effects in the car. When we entered, we had to remove our jackets and place them on a conveyor which led them through an x-ray machine, then each sidle through a free-standing metal detector. There’s something eerie and rather sobering about watching your jacket and notebook and they are dragged through the unit—and seeing only the zipper and buttons along with the metal parts of my fancy pen. I surrendered my driver’s license and was handed a badge I was to wear at all times inside the prison, showing it to guards at various stations along our way. As Curt pointed out, my official identity was now “Visitor 3” for the duration of my visit. Matt Wallace, the artist-in-residence mentioned above and presumably the man who will take over SBB (at least on an interim basis) when Curt retires next year, joined us as well to observe the rehearsal.
Curt introduced me to the guards and staff members he knows well, so I didn’t feel out of place for long. The chaplain, Marc Wessels, went to Lancaster Theological Seminary and is familiar with this area, so we exchanged a bit of small talk about this coincidence. We entered the chapel, where the rehearsal would be taking place during both days of my visit (in the film, rehearsals seem to be held in multiple locations, including a portion of the athletic facilities and the canteen).
Inside we found some 23 men, all clad head-to-toe in khaki (the prison uniform; I had been cautioned not to wear any khaki-colored clothing during my visit), milling about, waiting for rehearsal to begin.
The sight took my breath away: I was finally here.
Scanning the faces of the inmates, my eyes rested on those I recognized from the film: there was Floyd Vaughn; there was Howard, who was denied parole during the filming and in a heartbreaking scene said he was most upset about having to call his family and break the news to them; there was a bespectacled, larger-than-life Jerry “Big G” Guenthner; there was Hal, who played Prospero in The Tempest as shown in the documentary and offered meaningful reflections on his crime; there was Ron, who memorably clashed with Hal during a rehearsal scene in the film. Mostly, though, there were new faces, and each seemed genuinely pleased that I was there. Within ten minutes of my arrival, Vaughn, Ron, Mike, Hal, and a few others had all introduced themselves, asked where I was from, and thanked me for coming to visit.
[The above picture was taken by Curt Tofteland and is from a previous year's performance. Front row, far left: Hal; fourth, fifth, and sixth from left are Leonard, Ron, and Louis. Back row, far left: Vaughn; second from left: Big G.]
I think the troupe member who made the profoundest impact on me was Ron, though I had memorable exchanges with others as well. When Curt introduced us and said I was from Pennsylvania, without missing a beat Ron asked, “Clinton or Obama?” My response (the latter) elicited a strong handshake and approving slap on the back—though Ron was quick to add that Obama had not gotten his support simply because they share the same skin color: “I listened to what Obama had to say, studied Hillary,” but he said he ultimately was turned off by her campaign tactics. When I agreed that this troubled me as well, he offered an appreciative, “That what I’m talkin’ about.”
As Curt entered the rehearsal space (and I positioned myself on the relative periphery of the circle), the men gradually left their private conversations and took their seats. Curt began by asking me to introduce myself and talk about why I was there; I did so and noted that I was excited about learning from them, keeping my comments (unlike my writing) brief. Curt opened the meeting by telling them that over the past weekend, one of the actors he’d hired to take part in the above-mentioned Caesar program was arrested for his second DUI. Curt told of how, prior to offering him the job, he’d asked the actor, an Iraq war veteran, if he was dealing well with his experiences in combat. The actor had answered that he was fine, but clearly he was seeking to dull the pain of his post-traumatic stress disorder with alcohol. The results of his actions: if convicted, he might serve some jail time; he has disappointed those who were there to help him (including Curt) but whose help he refused; and he has grossly inconvenienced the members of Curt’s troupe—and most specifically Curt, who now must find a new actor to step into the role with less than two weeks to go.
The undercurrent of Curt’s comments was unmistakable—that the mistakes we make have consequences that reach far beyond our own individual regrets, and that it is essential to ask for help when we think we may need it—but it was a message delivered smoothly, without heavy-handedness or pedantry.
Ron, who is one of the long-time members of SBB, spoke up and disagreed with some of what Curt said. “People in those situations think they have certain things under control,” he said, but in reality they continue to struggle to maintain that control. There are grey areas that we must respect, Ron insisted, because “some people are quick to make black-and-white determinations about right and wrong.” We must acknowledge the power of a disease like alcoholism, for example, rather than placing the blame on the actor for having failed to ask for help when he felt he was doing well.
Curt countered by saying that “change and responsibility begins in one place—and that is with the individual.” Change must be profound and resolute. To further illustrate his point, Curt brought up the case of Ricky, a participant in SBB who appears in the film; in figuring out how to endure a sentence of “two lifes without” (a double life sentence without possibility of parole), Rick decides to join SBB. “I’ve never finished anything in my life,” he says, so he’s determined to do this, and do it well.
Rick has been mentored into the program by Big G; new participants must be recommended by an existing member, have one year clear conduct, and must stay out of trouble or they will be unable to continue. Rick makes the unfortunate choice to get a tattoo in prison in violation of the rules, and landed in the hole, disqualifying him from being in SBB. Following the filming, Rick was transferred to another prison, the Kentucky State Reformatory, and after several months hanged himself with his shoelaces.
“Ricky slipped through the net,” Curt said, emphasizing the fact that he had a support network in SBB but declined to ask for help when he needed it, “but it was his choice.”
It was a fascinating conversation about whether we (as individuals, as a society) can focus on the need to ascribe and accept personal responsibility for our actions without sitting in condescending judgment of one another’s flaws and foibles. I had been there for ten minutes, and already I was in the midst of one of the most compelling philosophical exchanges of my life.
“What does Brutus say before he leaves the stage?” Curt asked Big G, who is playing the role.
“O that a man might know / The end of this day’s business ere it come,” G flawlessly recited from Act 5, scene 1. How will we handle the problems with which we will invariably be faced each day? Will be make it through unscathed? I am struck here with empathy, but it’s almost deeper than that: I can see myself in these men. This is not to say that I expect to commit murder or armed robbery or felony assault; it’s simply to suggest that these men are not substantively different from me, from any of us. They made mistakes, miscalculations; they lost control; they made poor choices. Their crimes don’t make them monsters, as the simplest among us might dismissively conclude. Their crimes make them human.
The discussion wraps up with a consideration of the ways in which men’s egos tend to prevent them from asking for—or accepting—the help we need. “People go out of their way to help, but we say, ‘Oh, I know what I’m doing,’” one inmate said. “Well, I didn’t know frickin’ squat, ‘cause now I’m sittin’ in this fuckin’ place.”
Curt seamlessly transitions from this discussion into the material, encouraging the men to find themselves in their roles. It’s time for the warm-up exercises, and I notice immediately the warmth that dominates Curt’s interactions with the men, and their interactions with one another. He’s also very physical with “his guys,” slapping them on the back in encouragement and greeting. It is unusual (and refreshing) to see men so comfortable with one another physically.
The warm-up scene in the film was one of my students’ favorite, partially because a few of them are actors, but mostly because it made them marvel at how a group of inmates threw themselves body and soul into the craft of acting.
First up is “Zip Zap Zop” (though I think they were saying “Zip Zap Zoh” here), a traditional acting exercise in which the men stand in a circle and “send” the energy across and around to the other men. One man claps crisply, makes eye contact with someone else in the circle, and “passes” the sound to him by directing his hand toward the receiver. It’s a drill that emphasizes clear expression, swift reaction, full engagement, careful listening and communication, and impeccable timing.
Then the men go around the circle reciting a monologue from Julius Caesar they had been given by Curt to memorize over the summer. It’s Antony’s soliloquy from the end of Act 3, scene 1, after he discovers his friend Caesar’s body and then shakes the bloody hands of the conspirators:
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter’d with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
Here again, it’s the importance of eye contact, of communal pursuit—the circle breaks down, after all, if someone forgets the next word and must repeat the previous one—being emphasized with this exercise.
As the warm-up exercises die down and the men gear up for the rehearsal of a portion of the play, Ron came over and chats with me for a bit; this would be the first of several conversations over the course of my two-day visit, and I found him to be a most fascinating individual.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART FOUR.
Monsoon Martin's Pennsylvania Primary Primer - 22 April 2008
My friends,
The day has come to get out and vote in the Democratic primary for the United States presidency. Our state is center stage—Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann are on MSNBC talking about what may happen in Lancaster County, the Lehigh Valley, the Reading area, and how it would affect the chances of either candidate—in a primary for the first time in my memory.
I’ve written about this election before several times in this space, but let me reiterate here and now that I wholeheartedly endorse Barack Obama for President of the United States.
Below are two lists: the first, a list of reasons to vote for Barack Obama; the second, a list of reasons not to vote for Hillary Clinton. I have tried to be as succinct and straightforward as possible, and have based my comments on things I have heard and read from reliable sources.
Fifteen Reasons to Vote for Barack Obama
1. He was against the criminal, disastrous Iraq war from the start.
2. He wants to overhaul NAFTA and punish companies that outsource, both of which have damaged the base of manufacturing jobs in the U.S.
3. He takes no lobbyist or PAC money; he would be at least less beholden to special interests. I believe he would stand up to corporate bullying and obscene profits in American life.
4. He is not a divisive politician who engages in bickering and backbiting, but a visionary leader who will bring people together.
5. His experience as a community organizer and activist bespeak his connection with the problems of ordinary people and his ability to negotiate in good faith. His election as President, given his diverse background and broad worldview, would immediately raise the dismal status of the U.S. in the eyes of many around the world.
6. His March 18th speech on race and American life at the National Constitution Center is the most searingly honest and significant discourse on the topic in my lifetime.
7. His favorite TV show was “The Wire” and he would be the first president versed in hip-hop culture; he made a Jay-Z reference in a speech the other day, for god’s sake!
8. He has clear, substantive plans to tackle the problem of global climate change; as today is Earth Day, this should be in the forefront of voters’ minds.
9. He has stated he would create a prison-to-work incentive for former inmates transitioning back into society.
10. His views on education are progressive; he wants to abolish “teach-to-the-test” curricula and opposes vouchers.
11. He opposes death penalty in all but the rarest cases and is a proponent of legislation that makes it easier for innocent death-row inmates to win new trials.
12. He seems to genuinely have a sense of humor; that may seem like an insignificant trait, but I think it’d be pretty damned important if he wins the presidency.
13. He likes (and plays) the sport of basketball instead of being obsessed with tired, wanky pastimes of the rich and powerful like golf.
14. He voted against the use of cluster bombs in civilian areas.
15. As a colleague and I were discussing yesterday, he has the courage to disagree with his constituents on some issues rather than simply telling them what he thinks they want to hear. He will not insult the intelligence of the American people by pandering to the lowest common denominator. This is true leadership.
There are plenty of other compelling reasons to vote for Barack Obama, but these stand out for me as I sit here late on Monday night and contemplate the long-awaited primary battle.
If you’re still thinking of voting for Hillary Clinton—after all, you might say, some of the above are also true of her to some extent, notably numbers 8 and 10—I have compiled a list to try and sway your allegiance a bit. Again, all of these are based upon what I have seen or heard from reliable sources about Hillary Clinton.
Fifteen Reasons Not to Vote for Hillary Clinton
1. She voted for President Bush’s ill-conceived, ill-fated Iraq War, and has compounded the error by repeatedly reauthorizing funds to fight the war and refusing to acknowledge her error in failing to read the National Intelligence Estimate before her initial vote.
2. She voted for the USA PATRIOT Act of 2001 in the hysteria following the 9/11 attacks.
3. She supported Israel’s brutal military assault on civilian targets in Lebanon and Gaza; she has said she would support large-scale U.S. “retaliation” against Iran if it or any of its proxies attacked Israel. And finally, she was the only Democrat to vote for the aggressive Kyl-Lieberman Amendment to authorize unilateral U.S. force against Iran.
4. She opposes the full repeal of the conservative, anti-gay Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA).
5. She co-sponsored legislation that would have made it illegal to burn the flag of the United States, wasting precious congressional time on a symbolic issue around which she was pandering to conservatives.
6. She doesn’t seem to have any core convictions; she seemingly believes she is entitled to the presidency and will do anything to get elected. (Sure, this is an opinion. But it’s based upon what I’ve seen and heard, and it’s my weblog.)
7. She has engaged in unrelentingly dirty campaign tactics, seizing on minor gaffes and unrelated issues to obfuscate her own policy and leadership shortcomings; the day before the Pennsylvania primaries, her campaign released a fearmongering attack ad subtly linking Barack Obama with Osama bin Laden.
8. In an interview on “60 Minutes,” when asked whether Obama is a Muslim, she said he was not, then quickly added, “as far as I know.”
9. She lied shamelessly about the “harrowing” Bosnia plane landing in 1996, then lied to cover it up by claiming that her misstatements were out of fatigue rather than admitting they had been orchestrated to inflate the magnitude of her foreign policy experience while First Lady.
10. She served on the Wal-Mart board of directors and there is no evidence she challenged Wal-Mart’s fierce anti-union tactics; she served as a ruthless corporate attorney at the notorious union-busting Rose Law Firm. As a result of this history (and other factors), her populist rhetoric in the current campaign rings rather hollow.
11. She has been a cheerleader for the Democratic Leadership Council (DLC), which has moved the party away from its progressive roots and toward a more centrist, pro-business platform.
12. She was a member of the College Republicans and in some substantive ways, has never left the party.
13. She supports the death penalty, almost without exception.
14. She unconscionably voted against a resolution against using cluster bombs in civilian areas.
15. She is a war hawk, a polarizing figure here and abroad, and has demonstrated a disturbing tendency to respond with indignation and rage when her motives or policies are questioned.
Thanks for listening…now get out and vote!
MonsoonMonsoon Martin's Weather Update for Friday, 18 April 2008
My friends,
If you’ll permit me, I have a couple of odds and ends before I bring you the weather.
First, I have an exciting announcement: After six long, pointless seasons, I have officially kicked my “American Idol” habit! I wasn’t “feelin’ it” (as Randy might say) as the season began, but typically became more interested when the field was narrowed down to 12 in previous seasons. But this year, I haven’t watched more than an hour of the show altogether, and the feeling is wonderful. I have missed some truly awful guest stars and song styles: the Dolly Parton songbook, “inspirational” music, and Mariah Carey’s oeuvre come to mind most readily. At long last, I can honestly say that I have absolutely no stake in who wins this thing, no simmering hatreds of overly perky contestants, no hotly contested, cheating-wracked Idol pool with my (current or former) colleagues. I am free!
And yet, I have not quite emerged unscathed from the morass of televised “reality” show competitions. No, I haven’t become hooked on the gleefully vile, gyrating humpanalia “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila 2” or the cloying ego-fest “Oprah’s Big Give.”
It’s almost worse.
Back in February I heard that a man who substitute teaches in our building once in a while was going to be on a reality show called “Your Mama Don’t Dance.” The premise of the show is that young, professional dancers must partner up with their parents (female dancers with their fathers, male dancers with their moms) and perform a series of routines, week after week. Doug Croner of Gilbertsville—the aforementioned substitute teacher—would be paired up with his daughter, Noelle.
Let me try to state in the briefest terms what this insipid Lifetime network show, airing Friday nights at 9pm, is all about.
First, it is hosted by the almost unbelievably smarmy and cheesy Ian Ziering (pretentiously pronounced EYE-in ZHEER-ing) of “Beverly Hills 90210” “fame.”
Each pair prepares a dance based on the week’s theme—it might be cowboy music, it might be hip-hop dance, it might be showtunes; it will be ridiculous—and is shown in a short taped package rehearsing the routine. Then the pair perform the routine and are rated on a scale of 100 by three judges—choreographer (and former J-Lo beau) Cris Judd, the inexplicably well-known Vitamin C, and the wildly eccentric and inscrutable dancer extraordinaire, Ben Vereen. The scores are invariably inflated, the feedback stunningly incoherent. The two pairs with the lowest scores at the end of each show land in the bottom two; call-in votes determine which pair will survive to next week and which will go home.
On the first episode, Noelle and Doug, horrifically clad in sequined costumes, danced the most cringe-inducing, inappropriately seductive routine (remember, they’re father and daughter) to Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” which was highlighted on the snarky weekend wrap-ups “Talk Soup” (on E!) and “Best Week Ever” (on VH1). We were hooked. (I say “we” because I have involved Wendi in my sickness, and I am not sorry.)
[A note here: I tried and tried to find a clip online of this performance, but could not. For this I am sorry. It really defies description, so if you can ever find it, you won’t soon forget it.]
In subsequent weeks, the performances have only become more disturbing, and somehow Noelle and Doug have made it through week after week. Two weeks ago they performed a hip-hop routine (go to the video entitled “Bottom Pair – Episode 6” if you dare) that surely made Jam-Master Jay spin like a top in his grave—and it wasn’t even the most offensive or “urban” stereotype-laden performance of the night.
In my defense, I typically only watch until Noelle and Doug are on—which, for some reason, happens to be very near the end of each episode. I watch with a mixture of revulsion and bemusement, schadenfreude and an unshakable sense of the coming apocalypse, ultimately rooting against them so I could stop watching this infernal show.
And yet, that strategy has never paid off, as they’ve now made it to the last show, and I’m still tethered to it.
Anywho, this deeply sucky show mercifully has its finale tonight at 9pm, during which the final three pairs (including Noelle and Doug) will perform, and the several hundred people watching live on TV will vote for the winner.
Thanks for allowing me that confession. And now…
Weather narrative: The temperature got into the low 80s in most places within the forecast area (Reading, central and southern Berks County, central and northern Lancaster County) yesterday, and I think we’ll get at least that warm again today and perhaps even again on Saturday.
On Sunday, a front comes through that will cool things off and kick up some breezes; it may bring a few showers, but I don’t think we’ll have significant rainfall. Behind that, we’ll start next week with temperatures that are still higher than normal, but more moderate and pleasant than the highs we’re seeing right now. (“Normal” conditions in our region for this time of year are highs in the low 60s and lows in the low 40s.)
Things get somewhat cooler by the end of next week, with highs only getting into the low 60s and windy conditions making it feel like the 40s or 50s. High temperatures will dip into the 50s in the last several days of April, with the chance of significant rainfall on those days.
Beyond the forecast: As we head into May, things will cool off a bit, as the WeatherTable trend bears out. By the second week in May, though, highs should perk back up into the 60s and perhaps even 70s, for those of you who like that sort of thing.
Monsoon
Monsoon Goes To Prison - Part Two
My friends,
After 1,300 travel miles, four states, and two prisons, I am safely back in Pennsylvania. I'm still gathering my thoughts about this incredible experience and will post them soon in Part Three of this series.
Thank you to Curt Tofteland, who was so gracious in inviting me to visit, so generous in sharing his program with me, and so kind in shepherding me around the greater Louisville area.
Thank you to Larry Chandler, warden of the Kentucky State Reformatory, who led us on a thorough and eye-opening tour of his facility.
Thank you to the staff members of both the Kentucky State Reformatory and Luther Luckett Correctional Complex, who made my visit a smooth and informative one.
And finally, thank you to the troupe members of Shakespeare Behind Bars, past and present, who welcomed me into their fold for a couple of days and allowed me to observe their little family.
It was an unforgettable experience that will inform and inspire me, and that I will always cherish.
Monsoon
Monsoon's Weather Update for Wednesday, 9 April 2008
Friends,
Below the WeatherTable is the weather narrative...
Weather narrative: Unseasonably warm temperatures will move in today and tomorrow; a few showers are possible later today. Friday and Saturday will be rainy off and on and potentially rather turbulent: showers and thunderstorms are possible either day.
Look for breezy and cooler conditions Sunday through Tuesday with highs struggling to get out of the 40s; milder conditions will return by the end of next week.
The following weekend (4/19 and 4/20) looks spring-like with highs near (and possibly above) 70. Time to get out the mower!
Beyond the forecast table: Seasonable with highs in the mid to upper 50s and lows in the upper 30s to low 40s.
Monsoon
Monsoon Goes To Prison - Part One
First, to set your minds at ease (or, for those of you who’d like to see me behind bars, to cruelly disappoint you): I am not being incarcerated, and I have not been accused of a crime; unless and until our government officially outlaws thinking for oneself, I hope never to be arrested or jailed.
Nor am I visiting an uncle or acquaintance in the pokey; none of my kith and kin are, to my knowledge, currently in jail.
It’s actually an educational opportunity (no, not “Scared Straight”) that will take me to the Luther Luckett Correctional Complex in La Grange, Kentucky next week.
About a year ago, I was flipping channels and happened upon a film on one of the premium channels called Shakespeare Behind Bars. I watched as convicted felons analyzed, parsed, rehearsed, reflected, and argued their way to creating a performance of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Led by Curt Tofteland, the men who participated in the program which shares the film’s title were as breathtaking as the “forces of nature” that open the play.
[Check out the film's official website, which has the trailer, photos, and information about cast and crew.]
As I watched the film, I was struck by the fact that we met the members of the troupe first as actors, then as convicts. In moving scenes throughout the film, some of the principal players painfully and honestly discuss their crimes (one man killed his wife, another his mistress; one man is behind bars for armed robbery; still another sexually assaulted seven girls)—but not before we meet them as men. Our society has a frightening tendency to regard its incarcerated as less than human—cast-offs without whom society is far better off. But the reality is that these are flawed individuals, like all of us (though, as an inmate named Leonard acknowledges in the film, their mistakes are far more grave than most of ours).
The program exists largely thanks to then-Warden Larry Chandler, who believed strongly that prisoners should be rehabilitated (it is, after all, the corrections system) because most of them are going to rejoin society at some point.
It’s a theme that runs through both the play they perform in the film and the film itself: restorative vs. retributive justice. In The Tempest, a character named Prospero (played by inmate Hal, below) is exiled to an island and spends twelve years honing his magical powers and plotting his revenge again his usurpers. When he creates a magnificent storm (the tempest of the title) that shipwrecks them and delivers them to his island, he gradually realizes the value of forgiveness: “Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th’ quick, / Yet with my nobler reason ‘gainst my fury / Do I take part. The rarer action is / In virtue than in vengeance” (5.1.32-36).
Inspired by the resonance and emotional power of the film, I contacted Curt Tofteland, who is the founder and volunteer director of the Shakespeare Behind Bars program. We began an email correspondence about the themes of the film, updates on the prisoners, and the background of the program.
Curt is a trained actor who became involved in the Kentucky Shakespeare Festival in the 1980s, becoming its director in the late 1980s and revitalizing the program. He began Shakespeare Behind Bars (SBB) in the 1990s and a few media outlets took notice; the Christian Science Monitor did an outstanding, in-depth piece on the program in 2002.
By the early aughts he was fielding requests from filmmakers who wanted to document his program. He reportedly turned many of them down, however, after viewing their previous work: he is understandably protective of SBB, and knew it had to be portrayed in just the right light in a film. Eventually filmmakers Hank Rogerson and Jilann Spitzmiller fit the bill; filming took place over a year in 2003-04; and it was released in 2005. Curt is planning on retiring from the Kentucky Shakespeare Festival (and SBB) next year and writing a book about the SBB program.
Shakespeare Behind Bars made a splash at Sundance, where it received enthusiastic and warm responses from packed houses all week. The actor and director Steve Buscemi attended a screening and said, “It's a wonderful film. I was amazed by what they could do and by Curt’s commitment. And I see that these men are trying and it's heartbreaking. I hope they all make it – it’s in our interest that they do,” he said. The movie “totally captivated me and it moved me—and that’s a great film.”
In the course of my email correspondence with Curt Tofteland, I explained that I was teaching the play The Tempest to my Honors English 11 class, and that I had purchased the DVD and would be showing the film immediately following our study of the play, then having the students write reaction pieces. He asked if I would send him copies of what the students wrote, and then extended a thrilling offer that stunned me with its openness:
glen,
if you would like to visit the sbb program, let me know. we are preparing julius caesar for may performances.
blessings,
curt
He sent me a list of rehearsal and performance dates; I decided it might be more fruitful to see rehearsals than the finished product (it is, after all, about the process) so I chose some dates in the middle of April. I made arrangements to drive out there (I eschew flying), filled out a security form, and that was that: I’m visiting Luther Luckett Correctional Complex next week!
My students read The Tempest and responded wonderfully to the play (and after having read two tragedies this year, Macbeth and Hamlet, they should have been thrilled to read a comedy/romance), after which I showed the Shakespeare Behind Bars. They were moved—if a bit troubled, at first—by the stories of these men, and wrote beautiful reaction pieces. “The prisoners gain an intense appreciation for Shakespeare’s art when they experience it on a personal level,” wrote one student. Another student echoed, “Curt Tofteland’s rigorous program requires the participants to fully analyze the play by searching beyond the text to make an emotional connection.” Still another observed, “I used to think that criminals were monsters who took great pleasure in doing heinous crimes. But as I listened to the confessions of the inmates, I realized that they weren’t monsters at all but were as human as everyone else.”
After we had viewed and discussed the film, I told them of my plans to visit the program in April. “Can we come too?” was one immediate question (no; when I talked to my principal about the potential visitation, he went pale as a ghost until he realized that I wanted to undertake the visit alone and was not interested in taking my students to the prison). “Will you stay overnight in the prison?” was another (no; again, this is not “Scared Straight,” and one of my greatest fears is confinement. One hour in a cell and I’d be crying out like new prisoner “Fat Ass” in the beginning of the film The Shawshank Redemption: “You don’t understand! I’m not supposed to be here!”). Mostly they were excited that I would be getting to meet Curt Tofteland and some of the prisoners (many of whom, after all, are still in prison and involved with the program), that I would take copious notes, and that I would be sure and share all the details on my return.
And so I’m off on a grand adventure to La Grange, Kentucky. It may seem to some like a strange way to use one’s personal days, but I wouldn't want to spend them stuck on some beach. I think my trip to the Luther Luckett Correctional Complex will be an engaging and unforgettable. No matter what happens, though, I can be certain of one thing: I’ll have good stories to tell!
Monsoon
[Shakespeare Behind Bars can be purchased directly from the filmmakers’ website, via amazon.com, or at any number of other outlets, but is generally not available as in-stock merchandise in stores.]
Monsoon's "Happy Birthday, James Garner!" Flashback Forecast
Happy birthday to James Garner, who was born 80 years ago today! In honor of this milestone, I’m reaching two and a half years into the past to present a Flashback Forecast. This was written when I was a “Rockford Files” ingénue, having seen a few episodes when I was very young and a bunch more syndicated on WGN weekday mornings one summer. Since then, five of the six seasons of “The Rockford Files” have been released on DVD (and promptly snapped up and voraciously viewed by me), and my knowledge and affection for the series and the man have only deepened. (I even sent the man a fan letter and received an autographed photo in response!)
When I wrote the forecast below, for example, I had not yet seen what I consider to be perhaps the greatest "Rockford Files" episode of all-time: "Just Another Polish Wedding" from season three, in which guest stars Isaac Hayes (as ex-con Gandolph "Gandy" Fitch) and Lou Gossett Jr. (as shady PI Marcus "Gabby" Hayes) beat up a gang of Neo-Nazis in a bar.
My fondest “Rockford Files” wish—aside from the prompt release of the abbreviated season six and all eight “Rockford Files” TV movies from the 90s—is to procure an authentic license plate for my car like the one on Jim’s Pontiac Firebird. The California plate read “853 OKG” in honor of Garner’s home state (Oklahoma Garner) and Garner’s first paid acting job (August 1953).
There are too many great lines in the series to count, and surely I have made misstatements and incomplete references below. But it’s my little elegy of appreciation for a great show, and a fantastic actor.
Happy birthday, Jimbo!
(Please note that the forecast material presented below is from September 2005.)
Jim “Monsoon” Rockford’s Private Investigation Forecast
Thursday, 15 September 2005
Rrrrrring! Rrrrrring! “This is Jim Rockford. At the tone, leave your name and message. I’ll get back to you.” Then there would be a message from a bill collector, prospective client, or old flame designed to underscore Rockford’s caddish, unkempt but ultimately irresistible nature. (Some of the most entertaining of these messages are sprinkled throughout the forecast for your edification.) And finally, a series of still photographs of Jim about town and on the job would accompany the unforgettable theme composed by Mike Post: (Bu-da-bum-bum) DE-nau, de ne nau, de ne ne ne ne nauww…like that. (Go to this website if you’ve never heard it, or want to hear it again.)
Second only to Knight Rider in the pantheon of television adventure-dramas, The Rockford Files ran from 1974 to 1980 and turned the private-investigator genre on its head. Its hero wasn’t a crusader for justice driven to uncover the truth, buoyed by a preternatural intuition. James Scott Rockford (played by two-time Emmy winner James Scott Bumgarner, better known as James Garner) was a washed-up con artist on whom the slime of the underworld still lingered. He served five years of a 20-year sentence at San Quentin before his case was reopened and he was pardoned. Still he was not a favorite of the police due to his shady dealings and even shadier friends.
“Jim, it's Norma at the market. It bounced. You want us to tear it up, send it back, or put it with the others?”
Thurs. 9/15: partly cloudy and still quite humid with a lingering shower or two possible—the remnants of Ophelia begin to ooch by—particularly in the morning. A better chance of sustained rainfall, with locally heavy amounts possible, and a stray thunderstorm toward evening and overnight. High 86, low 67.
Incidentally, I think it's interesting that Hurricane (now Tropical Storm) Ophelia is behaving much like the character in Shakespeare's Hamlet. (In fact, I am certain the seniors I have taught in the past four years are all making this connection as well.) Just like her namesake, Ophelia has been erratic and unpredictable—hugging the coast one minute, changing direction out to sea the next; intense and ferocious one minute, meek and retiring the next. Ophelia is also doling out a lot of rain (in Hamlet, Ophelia cried a lot—it’s a stretch, but stay with me). And finally, similar to the fate met by the character, Ophelia will head out to sea by Sunday, where she will die...
Fri. 9/16: mostly cloudy with scattered showers possible; some could be heavy. Thunderstorms—some severe—are likely at night as a cool front comes in from the northwest. Humidity will likely diminish beginning in the evening and cool, dry air will replace the tropical ick we've been enjoying this week. High 80, low 64.
“Hi, Jim. Thanks for the dinner invitation. I'd love to, but does it have to be the taco stand?”
After his release, Jim made his home in a trailer parked in a lot just behind a Los Angeles-area beach. He often seemed reluctant to take on cases, even though his financial situation was tenuous at best, and made it abundantly clear to those who crossed his path that he would rather be fishing. And his crotchety dad, Rocky (played by Noah Beery), constantly nagged him about getting a real job, and viewed his son’s P.I. dabblings mostly with scorn.
Still, this being a television show, Jim Rockford would inevitably be drawn (seemingly involuntarily) into all manner of odd dealings. Jim’s ingenuity, charm, and ability to see through the prevarications and motives of others are undeniable. There were memorable characters aside from Jim, including Angel (played by Stuart Margolin), Rockford’s dull-witted former cellmate who seemed to be a magnet for trouble; and Dennis Becker (played by veteran character actor Joe Santos), Rockford’s primary police contact, who took flak from his superiors for his relationship with Jim—and often took it out on Rockford as a result—but who was ultimately a good friend to the protagonist.
“It's Laurie at the trailer park. A space opened up. Do you want me to save it or are the cops going to let you stay where you are?”
Sat. 9/17: partly sunny, but clearing in the afternoon. [It is possible that some of the rain from Ophelia could linger into Saturday and make that day wet as well, but I’m convinced at this point that we’ll be clearing out by Saturday.] A gentle wind. Pleasant! High 76, low 53.
“Tompkins at Guaranteed Insurance. About your burglary claim. Major loss all right. Funny you remembered to file, but you didn't remember to pay your premium.”
Sun.9/18: clear and nice. A crisp little autumnal breeze will tickle your nostrils with the promise of fall foliage vistas, jumping in piles of leaves, and of course, that glorious high school caste system- and gender role-affirming ritual, Homecoming. High 77, low 53.
This weather is reminiscent of Malibu and the L.A. coastal regions this time of year (OK, most times of year), where Jim Rockford parked his trailer.
In Norman, Oklahoma, James Garner’s hometown, weekend weather will be hot and humid with highs in the low 90s and lows around 72 all weekend and into next week.
“This is Toby. I forgot what I was calling for. Your recording is so boring. Spike it with some humor, some personality. Something.”
One of the most memorable episodes is 1975’s “The Farnsworth Strategem,” in which Jim Rockford poses as a Texas oil tycoon in order to con (and get even with) a shady underworld type who was swindling an acquaintance of Jim’s. Classic Rockford.
But perhaps as memorable as James Garner’s bravura performance as Jim Rockford, and the eclectic cast of characters with which he surrounded himself, were the dazzling array of guest stars. In several episodes, Isaac Hayes played a no-nonsense ex-con Rockford had known on the inside named Gandolph Fitch who loved to mispronounce Jim’s last name “Rockfish.” Lou Gossett played a character named Marcus “Gabby” Hayes. (There were plans to create spinoffs for both the Gossett and Hayes characters, but these never came to fruition.)
Other notable guest stars who were successful in their own right included James Woods, Linda Evans, Joan Van Ark, Ned Beatty, James Cromwell, Abe Vigoda, Michael Lerner, Gerald McRaney, Jill Clayburgh, Stefanie Powers, Rob Reiner (as a washed-up quarterback, sans hairpiece), Robert Loggia, Larry Hagman, Rick Springfield, Lauren Bacall, Rita Moreno, Tom Selleck, Hector Elizondo, and the incomparable Rene Auberjonois—of Benson and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine fame.
Next week: For most of next week, our weather pattern will be relatively stable, unlike Rockford’s erratic former cellmate Angel. Look for low humidity, highs in the mid 70s, and lows in the low to mid 50s. Moderate westerly winds each day. Thursday 9/22 is the autumnal equinox, officially ushering in the fall season.
Long term: I don't see any of this hot, humid craziness in the forecast for the remainder of September. Seriously!
James Garner, who worked in oil fields as a teenager growing up in Oklahoma to help put food on his family’s table, has been just as hard-working in his acting career. Best-known for his roles on the television series Maverick and The Rockford Files, Garner has also had a successful film career, the highlights of which include Murphy’s Romance (for which he was nominated for an Oscar as Best Actor; the underrated romp My Fellow Americans with Jack Lemmon as an ex-president; and The Notebook, in which he gives one of his finest—and most moving—performances. He received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Screen Actors Guild earlier this year.
The Rockford Files is currently shown on WGN Superstation—but inconceivably, WGN has shredded several minutes of the original episodes each hour in order to run 10 to 12 minutes of commercials. The result is that it has been difficult to see original episodes of this show, in their original form, as was intended upon the creation of the universe. The good news: Season One on DVD will finally be released December 2005!
Monsoon
Monsoon Martin's Warming Trend Forecast for Wednesday, 2 April 2008
A general warming trend will define the weather pattern for the coming weeks. Though there are aspects of spring that I enjoy, two side effects of the spring fever in particular are anathema to me: warmth and bugs. Both of these scourges reared their ugly heads yesterday: the temperature reached 70 in some places with high humidity as a cold front moved through; and last evening, I opened the back door of my home only to be greeted by a large, brown arachnid in the jamb. It had an arse the size of a softball (I tried to look up what the ass-end of a spider is really called, but I couldn’t stand to look at the pictures of spiders on entomology websites) and legs like nautical rope.
Yes, friends, the return of insects also marks the return of my wildly hyperbolic tendencies.
The spider was looking at me with all eight of its eyes (again, I don’t know how many eyes a spider really has, but I can’t bring myself to brave the World Wide Web and its horrifying array of arachnid photos), daring me to take it on. I vanquished the beast with a potent stream of Simple Green—my weapon of choice for spiderfighting, in that it ensures there will be no close contact—which eventually sent the creature thudding to the patio and lumbering unhappily away.
And in that moment I missed winter so, so much—missed it in all its frigid, spiderless, grey-and-brown landscaped glory.
On to the forecast, including the return of the WeatherTable, which follows the text forecast…
Today will be chilly and windy with lots of sunshine and blue skies. High 51, low 26.
Thursday will feature sunshine early; clouds will increase through the late afternoon and evening, and showers will develop sometime after 8 or 9pm. High 55, low 41.
Friday looks overcast with steady rain and periods of showers throughout the day, tapering to drizzle late. High 59, low 48.
Saturday will be cloudy for the most part, with perhaps a lingering shower or two in the morning; clearing late. High 56, low 38.
On Sunday, temperatures will be milder and skies will be partly to mostly sunny. High 61, low 40.
Next week looks like more of the same, for the most part. Highs will be in the mid to upper 50s to near 60; lows will be in the lower 40s. Windy on Tuesday and Wednesday. Best chances for rain next week are Monday the 7th (a few showers in the evening) and Thursday the 10th (rainy throughout).
Friday, April 11th will be noticeably warmer and quite sunny with a high of 67 and a low of 39.
The following weekend looks a bit cooler over all: Saturday the 12th will be sunny and chilly with a high in the mid 50s and a low in the mid 30s. Sunday the 13th looks rainy and windy with temperatures struggling to get out of the 40s.
Beyond that, we’ll trend warmer again, but not dramatically. Highs will be in the mid 50s; lows in the mid 30s.
Monsoon
Monsoon's Weather Update for Thursday, 27 March 2008
We’re entering a fairly moist spell here, but this is typical for the first several weeks of spring. Make sure to keep an umbrella handy—though I don’t foresee any soaking downpours or dangerously high winds in our immediate future.
[A reminder to my out-of-the-area readers: my weather forecasts cover the immediate area in which I, and my kith and kin, live and work: northern Lancaster County, central and southern Berks County. Sometimes I comment on the weather in the Philadelphia region, Allentown, Harrisburg, and other places nearby.]
Today we’ll see overcast skies and chilly conditions with periods of rain throughout the day. This evening will bring scattered showers. High 44, low 37.
Friday looks cooler with some steadier periods of rain, but I don’t expect a great deal of precipitation. Rain will taper to scattered showers and drizzle Friday evening. High 41, low 32.
The weekend is looking a bit milder and quite windy with partly cloudy to sunny skies. Highs will be in the upper 40s to low 50s; lows in the low to mid 30s.
Monday will be cloudy and potentially rainy with a high around 48 and a low around 35.
Tuesday and Wednesday, the first two days of April, will be breezy and much milder with partly cloudy skies. Look for highs in the upper 50s and perhaps even low 60s; lows will be in the upper 30s.
Thursday, April 3rd will see rain move in late in the day; it will continue into Friday and may be heavy at times. A strong cold front is moving through late Friday, so the possibility of isolated thunderstorms cannot be ruled out.
Next weekend will bring more below-normal temperatures after we have been tantalized with 60-degree-plus readings during the week. Highs will be in the 40s, lows in the upper 20s or low 30s.
The following week (beginning with Monday, April 7th) will bring dry, pleasant, spring-like weather, with highs reaching into the 50s at the beginning of the week and perhaps the upper 60s by the end of the week.
Monsoon
Monsoon Martin's "Five Guys": Yum! Restaurant Review
Me and my homegirls were just embarking on a leisurely day of shopping, camaraderie, and wanton double-entendre when I broached the topic of lunch. It had been decided that we would dine at the Cracker Barrel—a determination that aroused in me great excitement, for the C.B. has some of the finest burgers I have ever enjoyed: hearty and succulent without fail. As I exited the Route 30 East bypass to access the Lincoln Highway and eventually the Cracker Barrel at the Rockvale Outlets, my backseat passenger gesticulated wildly and cried out, “Five Guys!” Now, in her condition, Megan has been saying all kinds of crazy shit lately, so sometimes we just ignore her—but there was a quality to her voice that we dared not disregard.
[An important aside here: Yes, the “condition” to which I referred above is the condition of pregnancy. She has—as has been said cheerily by someone who has likely never given birth—a roomer in the womber. A bun in the oven. She’s eating for two. In fact, our petite friend has been so ravenously hungry during the first stages of her pregnancy that we have taken to calling her the Snackasaurus. So voracious and unquenchable is her appetite that she once pitifully toted a bag containing the salty, shard-like remnants of Pringles Minis to sustain her through a ten-minute faculty meeting.
Megan’s offspring, whose gender is as yet undetermined, has completed roughly one-third of his or her gestation period, and is expected to enter the world fully formed sometime in early September. Her pregnancy has thus far been an utter delight, as has she, and she has embraced her changing body and the creature’s relentless siphoning of her nutrients and energy with utter enthusiasm and composure. She was not even bothered one iota by the constant feeling of profound nausea that marked her entire first trimester. In fact, she began to welcome her daily cafeteria duty as an orgy of olfactory and aural pleasures: the smell of “tater tots and despair” (W. Greenleaf) brings only a broad smile to the glowing face of this diminutive soon-to-be mother. On more than a few occasions, we have had to ask Megan to stop singing or whistling “Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah!” because she’s just too goddamned chipper about it all.
In all seriousness (a phrase I loathe, but I mean it, because I’m going to stop being facetious and say something sincere), we love Megan and know that she’ll get through the remainder of her pregnancy just fine. And I will be privileged to announce the birth of the child in this forum when it occurs, along with all the quantitative information that is typically demanded of such a messenger.]
That was a hell of an aside, but it’s one that needed to be made. So Megan explained that she’d been to a Five Guys restaurant in the Horsham area (near where she’s from) several times and that she found their burgers to be outstanding. Since I am on a perpetual mission to find the perfect burger (as I discussed in an earlier post), that was all I needed to hear; I cried, “I’ve never had Five Guys!”, undertook some fancy driving maneuvers and we made our way back to Five Guys.
Five Guys Burgers and Fries is a franchised establishment located at 2090 Lincoln Highway (in the East Towne Plaza) in Lancaster, across from the Howard Johnson’s. The hours of operation are straightforward, dependable, and generous: 11am to 10pm every day of the week.
When we walked in the joint, I was immediately impressed by Five Guys’ apparently absolute lack of pretension. Though it was evident from the color scheme and decorative flourishes that the restaurant was trying to evoke in its customers a sort of nostalgia for the roadside burger stands and soda fountains of a bygone era, all links to this era were made subtly: the walls were not cluttered with 1957 Chevy tail fins, 45-rpm records, or pictures of Lucille Ball and Elvis Presley. The workers were not costumed in smart, red-and-white striped shirts and white pants with little paper hats. Bill Haley and the Comets were not playing on the sound system.
Five Guys’ décor is refreshingly understated and uncluttered. The walls are decorated with the company’s signature red-and-white checkerboard pattern and posted in the windows are quotations from a variety of sources praising Five Guys’ burgers.
Two- and four-person tables with pull-out chairs are scattered throughout the clean, pleasantly-lighted (with environmentally-friendly fluorescent bulbs) seating area, which is punctuated by a few shelving units holding bulk-sized food-service containers of mayonnaise, ketchup, and other burger essentials. And no pictures of the food confront the customer, arousing in him or her unrealistic expectations about the plumpness, freshness, or presentation of the victuals that may ultimately go unrequited.
The front counter is mesmerizing in its simplicity: One orders on the left side and picks up (when called) on the right side, each of which is clearly marked. The menu—a large, clear, easy-to-read painted board suspended from the ceiling behind the counter—is an oasis of minimalism in a helter-skelter world that overwhelms us to near-paralysis with its obscenely myriad choices for the most mundane of items. The menu contains fifteen items, including famous burgers with various toppings, “little” burgers (a single, smaller patty), hot dogs with various toppings, and famous fries in regular or large size; drinks come at a fixed price, for which the customer is given a cup and set free to imbibe as much of the Coca-Cola products he or she can vend out of the self-service fountain dispenser.
(Compare this fifteen-item menu with that of Cracker Barrel, which has more than 60 items without even counting beverages or desserts; or even with Crest toothpaste, which sells 24 different products at a recent unscientific survey of two local supermarkets.)
Furthermore, there are as many toppings as menu items—ranging from mayonnaise, pickles and lettuce to jalapenos and hot sauce—and not only are they absolutely free of charge, but they are not added to the burger unless the customer asks.
(One of my pet peeves as a restaurant patron and inveterate fussypants is the wanton and careless making of assumptions by chefs and waitstaff regarding what I might want. Why is it standard practice to place a lemon wedge at the top of a glass of water? I asked for water, not lemon-flavored water with a lemon seed and some pulp floating around in it. And why have you placed my cheesecake slice on top of a bed of raspberry sauce? Such a preparation was not specified on the menu. In your chef’s ham-fisted attempts at fanciness, I am now saddled with competing flavors when endeavoring to enjoy this most sacred of desserts. I could go on.)
And finally, the detail that won my heart before I ever took a bite: between the ordering counter and seating area are stacked fifty-pound bags of potatoes that have been hand-selected for Five Guys; a small chalkboard propped up next to the counter announces the origin of the potatoes that are being used to make the fries. (During our meal, one of the staff at Five Guys actually came out, muscled one of the eight-or-so bags off the pile, and carried it back to the kitchen to be used in the making of more delicious famous fries!)
It was time to step up to the counter and make my decision. Luckily, my two dining companions made their selections before me, so I had plenty of time to peruse the menu and arrive at the most prudent course of action. Since I knew I would be reviewing the burger here, I thought basic was best: I ordered the Bacon Cheeseburger (which consists of two 3.3-pound patties, with bacon and cheese), regular-size fries, and a Coke. The grand total was a little pricey—more than $9 including tax—but far more important to me than price is value, and that would be the critical barometer.
After waiting for about six minutes for my number to be called, I was presented with a grease-stained, blank paper bag that presumably contained the food I had ordered. My dining companions and I eagerly emptied our bags, bursting with anticipation and the thrill of discovery, and unwrapped the burgers.
The Fries
Five Guys’ “famous fries” are cooked in peanut oil and have no cholesterol, according to the menu, so at least there’s that—although let’s be honest here: if you’re eating at Five Guys, you’re throwing dietary caution to the wind to a great extent. Each of us got a regular order of fries, and each of us pulled out of our bags an overflowing stand-up container about the size of a soda can. Inside the bag were many more fries—at least enough to have filled the container to about half its capacity when it had been emptied. The fries were plentiful, but were they any good?
My friends, they were magnificent. Now, if you’re looking for golden-brown fries in the fast-food tradition, or the steak fries one might find at Cracker Barrel, you will be disappointed. These fries, many of which have potato skins still attached, are crispy on the outside, and nice and chewy on the inside—kind of like the fries you might find at a carnival presented in a paper cup with a picture of fries ringing its exterior, or even at the Solanco Fair. In keeping with the Five Guys atmosphere and straightforward methodology, the fries were not seasoned with any paprika or rosemary, not sprinkled with Cajun spices, not beer-battered and honey-cured. They were sliced and expertly cooked, and presented to my grateful and welcoming palate. Below, a delirious Megan takes an approving bite of a Five Guys fry.
While conducting research for this post, I came across a review of a new Five Guys by the restaurant critic for a television news program in Charlotte, NC; it describes the almost sacrosanct process used to make the fries, and the glorious end product:
First the crew blanches the prepared potatoes by dipping them into a pot of boiling water for a minute or so and then rinsing them with an ice water bath. The blanching process removes any excess water from the potato, which results in a more golden and crispier outside edge to the fried potato. After blanching, the preboiled potatoes are allowed to rest. Next, potatoes are deep-fried to order in 100 percent peanut oil. The end result is what many refer to as “boardwalk fries,” long but thick-cut potatoes that are crispy on the outside with the soft, warm consistency of a baked potato on the inside.
The Beverages
As noted above, the self-service fountain dispenser offers an impressive array of Coca-Cola products. I had regular Coca-Cola and found it to be outstanding in the freshness of its ingredients and the proper admixture of its component parts: not too much fizz, not too much syrup. Below, Wendi signals her enthusiastic approval of her beverage.
The “free refills” feature was well appreciated, too, as copious amounts of liquids were needed to wash down all the delectable meat and potatoes I’d consumed—but then, I’m getting ahead of myself.
The Burger
It was time for my first bite of a Five Guys burger—a moment that was captured for posterity by Megan and appears in the photograph below.
If it is indeed possible to feel love for one’s lunch—if genuine affection can develop between a man and his sustenance, even as he consumes it—then I loved this burger. (There, I’ve said it!) It brought me intense gratification while I knew it; it held wondrous surprises; I was disappointed when it came to an end; and I suffered no ill effects from the relationship. It was, in two words, gustatory perfection.
Allow me to describe the assembly of the burger from the bottom up, since I am fond of the notion of proletarian revolution. First, the bottom of the lightly-grilled bun (which I will describe later); then, the bacon, which was crisp and fresh; then, a hamburger patty; then liberally applied cheese slices; then another hamburger patty; then still more cheese; and the masterpiece was finished off by the lightly-grilled bun-top. The location of the bacon underneath the patties—as well as the presence of the cheese in between as well as on top of the patties—were agreeable variations and showed real ingenuity while working within the confines of acceptable burger construction.
The buns are baked by Five Guys specially for their burgers and dogs, and though I usually eschew sesame seed rolls, this one caused me no consternation whatsoever. In fact, Megan observed that one almost does not really notice the bun—which is, I think, one of the signs of an outstanding hamburger roll. It exists to protect the diner’s hands from becoming soiled with cheese and hamburger grease and to contribute the mildest starchy note to finish off the symphony of flavor; but if it is noticed readily, it means either that it’s too thick, too unwieldy, or that is has impertinently asserted itself too insistently, subsuming the burger-intake process.
I was carried away by a harmonious blend of burgerlicious taste sensations: the sliced cheese, its edges poking out the four sides of the round bun, melted just enough to coat the burger patties with savory goodness; the burger itself was well-done but still gratifyingly juicy; the bacon was crisp, flavorful, and in generous supply; and as mentioned above, the bun pulled it all together unobtrusively but most assuredly. And of no small concern to a persnickety clean-freak like me, despite its juiciness, burger grease and/or cheese did not drip once from the bottom of the burger when I took a bite—unlike, say, Cracker Barrel.
As described on the store’s menu, website, and in various interviews with the store’s founders, Five Guys uses fresh—“never frozen”—ground beef in an 80-20 mix (that’s 80% lean USDA Grade A beef), which is hand-formed into patties each morning by the store’s staff. There is no skimping on the ingredients or toppings at Five Guys, and its founder has what has been described as a “fanatical” approach to the quality of foods—buns, cheese, potatoes, hamburger, etc.—that make up his finished products.
Founded in 1986 in Arlington, VA by Janie and Jerry Murrell, Five Guys began with the simple premise that if they did one thing, and did it well, people would come. The straightforwardness of its business approach is crystallized in Five Guys’ elegantly stated mission: “We are in the business of selling burgers.” By extension, they’re not in the business of creating a holistic dining experience; they’re not in the business of offering a staggering array of unnecessary choices; they’re not in the business of including cheap plastic crap from the latest Disney movie in their meals. They’re in the business of selling burgers. (The grace, the uncomplicated conviction of that statement damn near makes me want to cry.)
Five Guys—named after the Murrells’ five sons Jim, Matt, Chad, Ben and Tyler, whose ages now range from early twenties to early forties and all of whom have all been involved in the family business to one degree or another—had expanded to five family-run locations in the DC-northern Virginia region by 2002. Shortly thereafter, Five Guys decided to franchise and today there are more than 200 franchises operating in 23 states—mostly on the east coast—with hundreds more franchisees planning to open additional locations in the next two years. In short, Five Guys is planning to take the culinary world by storm.
In this area, Five Guys can be enjoyed at locations in Allentown, Bala Cynwyd, Harrisburg, Philadelphia (at 1527 Chestnut Street), York, and of course Lancaster. According to Megan, who has had Five Guys many times in the Horsham area, the quality is consistently outstanding from one location to another.
Five Guys Burgers and Fries makes one of the two or three best hamburgers I have ever had the pleasure to send down my gullet. As we left the restaurant, quite satiated, we noticed a corkboard by the door with index cards onto which patrons could record their comments and impressions of the place. So overcome by the experience was I that all I could muster—nattering, long-winded wordsmith that I am—was: “Yum!”
“I took all that Five Guys had to offer,” I said on my way out to the car, “and I’m definitely coming back for more!” Next time, I’ve got a hankering to try their hot dogs.
Monsoon
[A concluding note: in my mission to find the perfect burger, I would welcome your tips as to where—within a reasonable radius of northern Lancaster County, maybe 40 miles—I might next visit to continue in this quest. Feel free to drop me an email and let me know about your perfect burger.]
Monsoon Martin's Analysis of Barack Obama's Philadelphia Speech, 18 March 2008
Analysis of Barack Obama’s “More Perfect Union” speech at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia, 18 March 2008
Senator Barack Obama’s speech on Tuesday was billed as “historic” before a word of it was even uttered, and has received near-unanimous praise since its delivery. I thought it was a very, very good speech with a lot to admire, but there were a few things that trouble me.
[A couple of notes here: first, I invite you to comment on and argue with my ideas here. Second, I’ve added a couple of new features to the weblog, which I’m still figuring out how to use to its fullest potential. You’ll notice that at the very end of each posting are links that read “Email” and “Print”—these will enable you to (you guessed it) easily email to your friends and print out each posting!]
Being an English teacher, I’ll first approach the speech as a work of literature, evaluating its structure, its pacing, its symbolism and recurring themes. Then I’ll try briefly to foresee how the speech might impact the primary election, and how Americans will respond to it.
First, the speech began with a quote. If one of my students had begun a writing piece with a quote—even one that set up the thematic milieu of his speech, as Obama’s did—he or she would have been docked points. But here, it was effective to begin with “We the people, in order to form a more perfect union,” because his speech then went on to discuss how “the American experiment” continues to work, sometimes falteringly, towards perfection.
Obama stood in front of six gigantic American flags in the National Constitution Center and romanticized the Constitutional Convention of 1787, whose resultant document was “a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.” Though the setting was so ham-handedly patriotic that it could have come out of a Jerry Bruckheimer film, Obama’s words softened the effect, talking as he did about America as a work in progress—citing protest, struggle, civil war and civil disobedience as part of the great history of perfecting this union. He also pointedly mentioned slavery as one of the Constitution’s—and our nation’s—great failings, and its eventual eradication as one of its great triumphs.
“This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign,” he went on, deftly connecting America’s past struggles—grassroots and governmental—with his own candidacy. “To continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America.” Obama went on to say that he has such faith in the ability of the American people to make change because of his own story, and went on to cite his oft-mentioned upbringing. “It’s a story that hasn’t made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts—that out of many, we are truly one,” he went on, citing the American motto “E pluribus unum.”
He moved then to an appraisal of his own campaign’s success at crossing racial lines and indeed transcending race: “Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country.” Obama lamented several times that commentators, pundits, and media figures seemed to be playing too great a role in determining what the American public is regarding as important in the race. “At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either ‘too black’ or ‘not black enough.’” In the last few weeks, he said, the primary elections have taken a decidedly “divisive” turn in their obsession with race:
On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.
Now he’s obviously referring to the racially charged comments made by Geraldine Ferraro about a week ago and referenced in one of my recent postings. And “purchase reconciliation on the cheap” is one of many examples in this speech of brilliant turns of phrase. (Remember that Obama writes most of his speeches, and reportedly wrote almost every single word of this one; he’s an accomplished wordsmith in addition to being a spellbinding orator.) He also brought up his former pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, as expected.
The words he chose and forcefulness with which he condemned and dismissed Wright’s statements is where I part company with the candidate a bit. He referred to Wright’s comments as expressing a “profoundly distorted view of this country … a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.”
Oh, Barack. Wright’s views about the culpability of American foreign policy being causally responsible for the September 11th attacks; his suggestion that the CIA played a role, however distant, in fomenting the devastating crack epidemic in the inner cities; his criticisms of prisons and the justice system—these are views that are shared by plenty of intelligent, rational, clear-thinking individuals in this country and around the world. Granted, these are not mainstream views, but denigrating Wright’s views as “profoundly distorted” leave a very bad taste in my mouth as an Obama supporter.
And his simplistic appraisal of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—essentially, that Israel can do no wrong, and Palestinians’ struggles are motivated solely by radical Islamic jihad or intifada—is alarming to me. (I had mentioned such concerns in my endorsement of Obama back at the beginning of February, and he’s shown me nothing to allay those concerns.) He may have scored a few points in distancing himself from rumors of being a Muslim, and attracted the fawning attention of Zionists, but his flip, absolutist summation of this morally and historically complex situation is unacceptable.
Obama got back on track, though, when he expressed a desire to move past a preoccupation with race and build unity in addressing a set of “monumental” problems: “two wars, a terrorist threat, a failing economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.” It’s his inclusion of healthcare and economic concerns that gives me hope that Obama will live up to campaign promises to retool NAFTA, punish companies who outsource workers overseas, pursue serial polluters and predatory lenders, and force the reevaluation of a system that elevates profits above people. (Well, he hasn’t said all that explicitly, but I’m hoping he’ll tackle some of these issues.)
After denouncing (or rejecting, or whatever) Wright’s “distorted” views, Obama then stops short of casting aside his former pastor and mentor altogether. After all, he said, “that isn’t all that I know of the man.” Wright is a reflection of the Black community, Barack insisted, and very much a product of the turbulent era in which he grew up. The Black church, he explains, is misunderstood by many outsiders because of its complex admixture of the contemplative and the exuberant, the holy and the secular: “The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.”
It was this passage that made me fall for Barack Obama all over again. Having studied African American culture for many years, I have often lamented that a lot of folks outside the community fail to grasp the complex forms of expression and variegated interactions inside the Black community. Black churches are houses of worship, yes, but many of them are also places of emotional release, of the struggle for social justice, of crass comparisons and exaggerations, of gossip and aid and tough love and mercy. Those who would dismiss Black churches—and by extension, the Black experience—as simple-minded, repetitive, overenthusiastic or inane are missing the richness and depth that has earned my profoundest respect and sustained my sincerest interest for more than 20 years.
“I can no more disown him,” Obama concluded here about Rev. Wright, “than I can disown the black community. He went on to very skillfully connect Rev. Wright’s ideas to the casual racial slurs of a relative:
I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother – a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.
Who among us does not have at least one stunningly ignorant distant relative who spouts racial slurs or anti-Semitic rants from time to time? Many of us even have a closer relative—a mother, a father, a sister, a brother-in-law—who is otherwise tolerant and sharp, but who once in a while lets a jaw-dropping homophobic phrase or embarrassing anti-Muslim stereotype slip? (I would not have been—nor am I generally—so forgiving or generous in dealing with racist white folks, but hey, he’s trying to run for President, here…) Speechmaking is all about getting the audience to identify with what the speaker is saying and feeling—where he or she is coming from. It’s an act of empathy, which is one of the most difficult things for a human being to do. I think he accomplished it here.
“These people are a part of me,” Obama stated pointedly—the patriots and the scalawags, the tolerant and the racist, the seekingly intelligent and the willfully ignorant. “And they are a part of America, this country that I love.”
Rev. Wright and others in his generation have experienced a great depth and breadth of the frustration and anger of the Black experience in this country—“the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through.” He cited school segregation, employment and real estate discrimination, and a “lack of economic opportunity” which all helped to “create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.” (Another beautifully turned phrase.) He made several references to the “anger” and “bitterness” of those years and wrapped up his discussion of Wright’s generation by saying of this anger: “[It] is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.”
(Small criticism: “among the races” would have been better there, given that we’re not just talking about Black and white, but people of multiple ethnicities and backgrounds who have to work out their differences.)
Next, he moved on to white people, and I think this section has the potential to be the most soundbited and most pounced-upon by conservatives and 527 groups. But I thought it was strong and strikingly honest—like nearly all of the rest of his speech—and will work well for him. “Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race,” he said, and I think it’s quite possible that with that one sentence, he may have turned off the switch of racial animus in working whites all around this country. (Alright, maybe it’s not “off”; maybe if we could imagine the simmering and lingering racism of some whites as mood lighting, he may have dimmed it quite a bit right there.)
And he didn’t dismiss this resentment out of hand as merely inarticulate racism that needs to be discarded and buried; he acknowledged that there are legitimate experiences and sources of these feelings: “Politicians routinely expressed fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.” In one passage, he laid the smackdown on George H.W. Bush and his Willie Horton ad; while exposing the sniveling likes of Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Glenn Beck for the fearmongering half-wits they really are. Bravo, Barack!
“Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white,” he went on, “I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy—particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.” But the path before us provides a clear choice—remain stuck in the past or move together into the future. In this sense, it echoes Martin Luther King’s statement that “we must live together as brothers or perish together as fools.”
Obama illustrated the choice in this way:
The profound mistake of Reverend Wright’s sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It’s that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country – a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past.
“In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand—that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. … For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism.”
Here I think he’s quite pointedly rejecting the dirty campaign tactics of Hillary Clinton and refusing to join her in the seamy muck of politics as usual in America.
“We can do that. But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we’ll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.”
What a brilliantly succinct review of American politics over the past 20 years, at the very least.
That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, “Not this time.” This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can’t learn; that those kids who don’t look like us are somebody else’s problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.
Obama went on to talk about the importance of addressing three other key issues in addition to education: healthcare, the economy, and ending the war.
The final couple of minutes of his speech, he told a story about a white woman organizing in a predominantly Black South Carolina district for the Obama campaign—a story that nicely illustrated the manner in which people of diverse backgrounds are coming together for real change in this election year, but which ultimately felt shoehorned in and somewhat forced.
But at this point, really, it didn’t matter. He’d already been dazzling, and he regained his stride in his final sentences: “But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two hundred and twenty-one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.”
Over all, I think Obama’s speech is one of the most important—and searingly honest—speeches about race made in my lifetime. And I think it’s going to be received extremely well by most Democrats and supporters of Obama.
But there are elements that are going to be picked apart and harped on. At one point, Obama seems to admit that he was present in the pews when Reverend Wright made some incendiary statements (though not for the ones being circulated in the videos). Some will jump on this as a contradiction of his earlier statements that he hadn’t been present for Wright’s remarks, and if he had been, he would have confronted him about them afterward. In addition, some of his comments about race—a subject that is rarely talked about openly in this country—may rankle some, particularly those he referenced in the speech as thinking that serious discussions about race are simply an instance of political correctness run amok.
The speech in history it reminds me most of is Lincoln’s 1858 “House Divided” speech, in which he urges unity for the sake of saving the union: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” It’s a paraphrase of Matthew 12:25, and it’s a powerful and evocative phrase that influence many citizens’ views on the matter and led eventually to the Civil War.
Obama’s speech revived his campaign, solidified his frontrunner status, and likely comforted many “superdelegates” whose votes are ultimately going to decide the nomination. He may still not win Pennsylvania, but I think he’ll win the nomination handily.