I found the movie to be deeply moving.

I suffer from adult loss of hearing. I began to lose my hearing in my mid-forties and I am now almost completely deaf. As a result, I now have a cochlear implant on my left side and a cross-coupled hearing device for my right ear. When I am not wearing them, I am almost completely deaf. At times, I prefer that, however, most of the time I need them to function in a hearing world. I am very familiar with discrimination against the hearing impaired. How much more so for the deaf.

 

To me, the scenes in which Sarah shows how she experiences sound are just wonderful.

One example is where she feels the music through her feet while dancing.

The best example for me was where Sarah demonstrates physically how a wave sounds to her. It was very beautiful and expressive and really did convey how a wave resonates to her, and also to me, totally without sound.

 

______________________________________

Now, here's a review by Roger Ebert (deceased):

www.rogerebert.com/reviews/children-of-a-lesser-god-1986

 

I suppose this sounds like the complaint of a crank, but I would have admired "Children of a Lesser God" more if some of its scenes had been played without the benefit of a soundtrack. If a story is about the battle of two people over the common ground on which they will communicate, it's not fair to make the whole movie on the terms of only one of them.

 

The movie is a love story, a romance between a young woman who is deaf and a rebellious teacher who believes she should learn to read lips and speak phonetically. She doesn't think so. She's been using sign language all of her life, and her argument is simple: If he loves her, he will enter her world of silence.

 

Although this disagreement is at the heart of "Children of a Lesser God," the movie makes a deliberate decision to exist in the world of the hearing. I know why they made this decision. It was dictated by the box office, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it. There is a certain cynicism at work here: Most of the people who see this movie will be able to hear, and although they may welcome the challenge of a movie about a deaf person, they aren't so interested that they want to experience deafness.

 

The movie uses a strategy that works well - if you accept the basic premise, which is that everything said on the screen must be heard on the soundtrack. Marlee Matlin, who plays the deaf woman, signs all of her dialogue, and William Hurt, who plays the teacher, then repeats it aloud, as if to himself. "I like to hear the sound of my own voice," he says at one point, and indeed he does such a smooth and natural job of translation that the strategy works.

 

But think for a minute: Hurt can hear and can read sign language; Marlin's cannot hear or (she claims) read lips, and can only communicate by signing. In many movies about two major characters, there are scenes from two points of view. In "Children of a Lesser God," the scenes between the two of them are from Hurt's point of view, and none of them are played without sound.

 

I'm not suggesting silent scenes where we have to guess what sign language means. But how about a few silent scenes in which the signs are translated by subtitles, giving us something of the same experience that deaf people have (they see the signs, and then the subtitles, so to speak, are supplied by their intelligence).

 

The feeling of seeing Hurt and not hearing him, of looking out at him from a silent world, would have underlined the true subject of this movie, which is communication between two people who speak differently.

 

By telling the whole story from Hurt's point of view, the movie makes the woman into the stubborn object, the challenge, the problem, which is the very process it wants to object to.

 

This objection aside, "Children of a Lesser God" is a good but not a great movie. The subject matter is new and challenging, and I was interested in everything the movie had to tell me about deafness.

 

Unfortunately, the love story is a fairly predictable series of obligatory scenes, made different only by the ways the characters talk to one another. I kept waiting for scenes in which Hurt and Matlin would discuss honestly the problems inherent in their relationship: If she refuses to learn to lip-read, she will be able to exist freely only at the deaf school, which means she is asking him to sacrifice great areas of his own life. Has she thought this through? We don't know.

 

I also don't know why the movie ignores all of the other ways the deaf have found to communicate. I am writing this review, for example, on a 4-pound, battery-powered portable computer, and I know that for many deaf people these machines represent an excellent substitute for the telephone.

 

"Children of a Lesser God" is not a movie about deafness, but a love story in which deafness is used as a poignant gimmick. I was reminded of such movies as "Love Story," with its dying heroine; "The Other Side of the Mountain," with its paraplegic heroine, and various other movies in which one of the lovers was blind, lame or from another planet. Most of the movies in this genre seem to treat the handicap as sort of a bonus, conferring greater moral authenticity on the handicapped character. This is a form of subtle condescension.

 

Despite my argument with the method of "Children of a Lesser God," I found a lot to admire, especially in the acting. The performances are strong and wonderful - not only by Hurt, one of the best actors of his generation, but also by Matlin, a deaf actress who is appearing in her first movie. She holds her own against the powerhouse she's acting with, carrying scenes with a passion and almost painful fear of being rejected and hurt, which is really what her rebellion is about.

 

Among the supporting characters, Piper Laurie does a good job with a thankless role as Matlin's mother. And I enjoyed the studied cynicism that Philip Bosco put into the role of the old pro who runs the school for the deaf.

 

"Children of a Lesser God" is a competent, professional docudrama.

 

It could have been more. Film is the medium of the visual and should be ideally suited to a story about a person who cannot hear, but only if the movie invites us inside that world and invites - even forces - us to an act of empathy. Making a sound movie about the deaf is a little like making a silent movie about the blind. It may be well-made, but doesn't it evade the point?

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Roger Ebert was the film critic of the Chicago Sun-Times from 1967 until his death in 2013. In 1975, he won the Pulitzer Prize for distinguished criticism.

French postcard by Éditions Sid, Paris, no. 8032. Photo: G.L. Manuel Frères.

 

Blond Paulette Duval (1889-1951) was a French dancer and actress of the silent cinema and early sound films. She was considered one of the most beautiful women in Paris and made her film debut in France in 1920. From 1921 on, she appeared in Hollywood films for Fox, Paramount, M.G.M and Columbia. Best known is her role as Madame de Pompadour in Monsieur Beaucaire (1923), starring Rudolph Valentino.

 

Paulette Duval was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1899, and raised in France. She made her debut in the title role of Marthe (Gaston Roudès, 1920) with Pierre Magnier and Charles de Rochefort. From 1921 on, Duval worked in Hollywood. Her first film there was the American-Italian coproduction Nero (J. Gordon Edwards, 1922), in which seh played Poppaea opposite Jean Gretillat as Nero. She is best known for her role as Madame de Pompadour in her next film, the romantic historical drama Monsieur Beaucaire (Sidney Olcott, 1924), set at the court of King Louis XV of France. Idol Rudolph Valentino starred opposite Duval in this film based on a novel written by Booth Tarkington. That year, she also had a supporting role in the psychological thriller He Who Gets Slapped (Victor Sjöström, 1924) starring Lon Chaney, Norma Shearer, and John Gilbert. It was the first film produced entirely by the newly formed Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The next year, she played the role of a vamp in Cheaper to Marry (Robert Z. Leonard, 1925), based on the noted stage play written by Samuel Shipman. Paulette played a lovely young woman who was embittered by the cynicism of the man (Lewis Stone) she intended to marry. The MGM film featured many of the clothes the French actress brought from Paris as well as evening attire and furs furnished by the studio costume department. From her own possessions Duval gave Norma Talmadge a $5,000 headdress.

 

In 1923, Paulette Duval was recruited by Florenz Ziegfeld for the Ziegfeld Follies, which opened at the New Amsterdam Theater. Before joining the Follies, the French beauty was already engaged with the Scandals dance productions of producer George White. She even was once engaged to White. In 1926, Paulette Duval introduced knee muffs to Hollywood. A fur importer, Maurice Gebber, made the muffs from Russian sable after a design by Duval. She appeared with Marion Davies in the comedy film Beverly of Graustark (Sidney Franklin, 1926). She also appeared in The Divine Woman (Victor Sjöström, 1928) starring Greta Garbo. Only a single nine-minute reel and an additional 45-second excerpt are currently known to exist of this otherwise lost film. Her final film was the French 20-minute military comedy Lidoire (Maurice Tourneur, 1933), starring Fernandel, in which Duval played the character of La Dame. According to the designer Erte, Duval opened a couture house in Paris after leaving films. When Paulette Duval passed away is not clear. IMDb notes 1933 as the year of her death, but - also according to IMDb - travel papers show that she was still alive in 1947 while visiting with her daughter Jacqueline the USA, and that she lived in Paris at the time. So Wikipedia is probably correct that Paulette Duval died in 1951. In 1952 Duval's daughter, Jacqueline, appeared in the war film Red Ball Express (Budd Boetticher, 1952), which featured Jeff Chandler and Alex Nicol. Wikipedia: "The uniqueness of her debut had to do with the camera shot, which showed the twenty-year-old Parisienne's derrière rather than the usual facial closeup. Jacqueline is shown pedaling away on a French bicycle in the opening shot of the film. Ironically, the young actress was under contract to MGM for the previous two years. During this time more than 3000 feet of tests were made of her facial expressions."

 

Sources: Paul Rothwell-Smith (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Yue Minjun uses his own iconic face in a state of hysterical laughter as a signature trademark. Recognized universally as a sign of happiness, the smile raises questions of intent and interpretation. One of the most influential contemporary artists in China, Yue Minjun represents the new wave of Chinese artistic freedom. Amazing Laughter marks Yue MOnjun’s Canadian debut.

 

In Amazing Laughter Beijing-based artist Yue Minjun depicts his own iconic laughing image, with gaping grins and closed eyes in a state of hysterical laughter. These laughing figures are the signature trademark of the artist. They are not a conventional self-portrait, as they tell us little about the person portrayed or of the reason they are laughing so hysterically. The longer you look at these cast bronze figures, the more the contradiction of the silent, frozen form of sculpture begins to intrude. We see, but do not hear the laughter. The contorted poses of the figure suggest animation and a cartoon form of an anonymous person. The laughter appears to be convulsive, intense, and manic, but also insincere and forced. The scale is “un-naturally” large –exaggerated and excessive like the laughter.

 

Yue Minjun was a leading figure in what became to be known in the 1990’s as Cynical Realism, an artistic movement that emerged in China after the 1989 student demonstrations in Tiananmen and the suppression of artistic expression. Humor, cynicism, repetition and an emphasis on the individual are common characteristics of this artistic movement. Yue Minjun was one of the first artists to translate this new ironic view of contemporary life, one that is expressed in the nihilistic hilarity at a time when little was funny.

  

“The city was different back then--poor and crumbling--kept alive only by the gritty determination and steely cynicism of its occupants. But underneath the dirt was the apple-cheeked optimism of possibility, and while she worked, the whole city seemed to throb along with her.”

― Candace Bushnell, Lipstick Jungle

Pressure and burnout are not the equal factors. And while we recognize that Pressure frequently results in burnout, it’s viable to address the onslaught of lengthy hours, excessive pressure, and paintings crises in a manner that safeguard you from the emotional exhaustion, cynicism, and a lack o...

 

networkposting.com/why-some-humans-get-burned-out-and-oth...

So yeah, some apoc figs, no idea why, just to keep you guys busy, I guess. Test week's startin' tomorrow, and will continue through next week. I will probably have just one MOC in that week: 11.1 for the 457th. Which will be awesome. Also, I am not gonna be very active for Lego Water Apocalypse. It's just not my genre, and the water adds even more difficulty, because I don't have a lot of blue bricks, and I am better at urban environments. Sorry Medic!!, I gave it a few tries, but it wasn't worth uploading. I may just return to it, but not for a few months or so. Maybe some PaB or something. But I'll stay as a member of the group, okay?

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And for the figs, Crap And Cynicism are greatly hated, but the other C&C are fine!

(kindof xD)

~ Jeff Bridges

 

© All rights reserved. Please do not use my photo without my explicit permission.

Here Lies The Truth, a personal visual representation of my long lost dream about the end of the world. Ive been trying to put this dream into one piece for years now and I think I finally accomplished this in my new tryptich.

 

At the top is a cross there are two bloody nails and no figure of christ, this represents how faith is only what you make it in yourself, no matter what the people or books tell you what to believe, any iconography, explanations, it only matters if you truly believe in whatever you believe in yourself, no matter what any one else does to destroy it. The grave of truth opens up into the angel with the scabbed wings. Purity being corrupted by the reality of the world and human nature. The inside then reveals itself, and truth begins to unravel.

 

If an artist can destroy your faith, then your faith is rather fragile - Marilyn Manson

 

My Dream starts with a realization of the world and what it truly is, accepting both the bad and the good parts about it. This realization is in a dive bar’s bathroom. The bar is full of neon lights and junkies. I look into the cheap reflecting blue on my face in the mirror while a protest enlarges outside as REM’S song “It's the End of the World as We Know It” plays softly. My reflection yearns for an end. I punch the mirror and pull out a piece of it. The strip of mirror caught my eyes as I knew what I was about to do next. I slit my wrists, feeling nothing. As I slowly start to lose consciousness and push through doped, coked, and dazed addicts, I walk out into the street. The street resembles a long lost gloomy Tahrir square filled with somber blue light and celebratory confetti. This is where all the worlds problems come together and are exposed, what we have all become, either shells of what was once a human, a clone, or a heretic, we are all joined in one place for one last time, and I ended it early for myself because I knew the truth. I walk into the street and look out at the main square and see a large demonstration. Security cameras and tv screens fill the square along with revolting protesters and fearless cops. The tv’s headlines are twisting what is actually happening, and the cops are beating people up for standing up for themselves and their basic human rights.

 

At the end of the world, Jesus christ is supposed to come down to Earth, but that higher power now is replaced and is taken advantage of by government and religion. Jesus was the first real rebel, and he was crucified for his spreading of love, light, and equality, which essentially is what his essence was about.His spirit is crucified. His spirit is replaced by the man in red, who represents government. The pope, representing religion as a whole, stands there as he takes money from the government and preaches his gospel. The people below them jump ecstatically waving their money in the air asking for help, putting all their trust in a higher power without second guessing it. They all yearn for any explanation for their lives, whether thats religion, or government, or anything that can make it easier for them not to deal with and analyze / explain it for themselves. Because its too scary to really face the truth, they take anything they can get. The government sneakily gives money to the pope as he carelessly throws sunflower seeds at his people, the people of the world. He treats them like animals. A smiley face defaces the american flag in cynicism and irony. It smirks at the world about how the people are being fooled and how they are being ignorant and blind to the truth by choice.

 

The transition from Twilight, the chaotic birth and interaction to the end of the world, to dawn, to an apocalyptic protest which brings forth all chaos and scary monsters , to dusk, the end, the acceptance, and the calm. The world sighs in relief as I go into the graveyard of what the world has lost, among love, humanity, sanity, intelligence, is me. My name, my empty grave. As I stand above my grave ready to leave this world and what it has become, I say a prayer, and I jump into it. The sky is clam, the moon smiles at me in cynicism, and the world is gone, here lies the truth.

 

My figure at the dusk stage is inspired by the tarot card 5 of cups. “The Five of Cups is a card that signifies difficulty, loss, and the challenges of dealing with that loss. The figure in the card wears a black cloak in which he hides his face in apparent despair.”

April 4, 2007.

 

This particular flickr-blurp marks the occasion of Dr. King's famous speech at the Riverside Church, here in NYC, 40 years ago tonight. I call it famous because it's famous to me. But in fact virtually none of you will be familiar with it, because its message - even four decades later - is one that Americans remain unwilling to hear.

 

I'll attach the very long text of his speech below, which I think you would all do well to read, but first, an obligatory musical intermission, to set the tone.

 

proof through the night

 

....

 

Riverside Church Address: Beyond Vietnam

By Rev. MARTIN LUTHER KING, Jr.

April 4, 1967

  

To the Clergy and Laymen Concerned about Vietnam Riverside Church, April 4, 1967, New York City, New York

 

Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, I need not pause to say how very delighted I am to be here tonight, and how very delighted I am to see you expressing your concern about the issues that will be discussed tonight by turning out in such large numbers. I also want to say that I consider it a great honor to share this program with Dr. Bennett, Dr. Commager, and Rabbi Heschel, some of the distinguished leaders and personalities of our nation. And of course it's always good to come back to Riverside Church. Over the last eight years, I have had the privilege of preaching here almost every year in that period, and it is always a rich and rewarding experience to come to this great church and this great pulpit.

 

I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice. I join you in this meeting because I am in deepest agreement with the aims and work of the organization which has brought us together, Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam. The recent statements of your executive committee are the sentiments of my own heart, and I found myself in full accord when I read its opening lines: "A time comes when silence is betrayal." That time has come for us in relation to Vietnam. The truth of these words is beyond doubt, but the mission to which they call us is a most difficult one. Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover, when the issues at hand seem as perplexing as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict, we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty. But we must move on.

 

Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony, but we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak. And we must rejoice as well, for surely this is the first time in our nation's history that a significant number of its religious leaders have chosen to move beyond the prophesying of smooth patriotism to the high grounds of a firm dissent based upon the mandates of conscience and the reading of history. Perhaps a new spirit is rising among us. If it is, let us trace its movement, and pray that our own inner being may be sensitive to its guidance. For we are deeply in need of a new way beyond the darkness that seems so close around us.

 

Over the past two years, as I have moved to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart, as I have called for radical departures from the destruction of Vietnam, many persons have questioned me about the wisdom of my path. At the heart of their concerns, this query has often loomed large and loud: "Why are you speaking about the war, Dr. King? Why are you joining the voices of dissent?" "Peace and civil rights don't mix," they say. "Aren't you hurting the cause of your people? "they ask. And when I hear them, though I often understand the source of their concern, I am nevertheless greatly saddened, for such questions mean that the inquirers have not really known me, my commitment, or my calling. Indeed, their questions suggest that they do not know the world in which they live. In the light of such tragic misunderstanding, I deem it of signal importance to try to state clearly, and I trust concisely, why I believe that the path from Dexter Avenue Baptist Church-the church in Montgomery, Alabama, where I began my pastorate-leads clearly to this sanctuary tonight.

 

I come to this platform tonight to make a passionate plea to my beloved nation. This speech is not addressed to Hanoi or to the National Liberation Front. It is not addressed to China or to Russia. Nor is it an attempt to overlook the ambiguity of the total situation and the need for a collective solution to the tragedy of Vietnam. Neither is it an attempt to make North Vietnam or the National Liberation Front paragons of virtue, nor to overlook the role they must play in the successful resolution of the problem. While they both may have justifiable reasons to be suspicious of the good faith of the United States, life and history give eloquent testimony to the fact that conflicts are never resolved without trustful give and take on both sides. Tonight, however, I wish not to speak with Hanoi and the National Liberation Front, but rather to my fellow Americans.

 

Since I am a preacher by calling, I suppose it is not surprising that I have seven major reasons for bringing Vietnam into the field of my moral vision. There is at the outset a very obvious and almost facile connection between the war in Vietnam and the struggle I and others have been waging in America. A few years ago there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor, both black and white, through the poverty program. There were experiments, hopes, new beginnings. Then came the buildup in Vietnam, and I watched this program broken and eviscerated as if it were some idle political plaything of a society gone mad on war. And I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic, destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such.

 

Perhaps a more tragic recognition of reality took place when it became clear to me that the war was doing far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population. We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. So we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools. So we watch them in brutal solidarity burning the huts of a poor village, but we realize that they would hardly live on the same block in Chicago. I could not be silent in the face of such cruel manipulation of the poor.

 

My third reason moves to an even deeper level of awareness, for it grows out of my experience in the ghettos of the North over the last three years, especially the last three summers. As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they asked, and rightly so, "What about Vietnam?" They asked if our own nation wasn't using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today: my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent.

 

For those who ask the question, "Aren't you a civil rights leader?" and thereby mean to exclude me from the movement for peace, I have this further answer. In 1957, when a group of us formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, we chose as our motto: "To save the soul of America." We were convinced that we could not limit our vision to certain rights for black people, but instead affirmed the conviction that America would never be free or saved from itself until the descendants of its slaves were loosed completely from the shackles they still wear. In a way we were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier: O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath- America will be! Now it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read "Vietnam." It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that "America will be" are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land.

 

As if the weight of such a commitment to the life and health of America were not enough, another burden of responsibility was placed upon me in 1954.* And I cannot forget that the Nobel Peace Prize was also a commission, a commission to work harder than I had ever worked before for the brotherhood of man. This is a calling that takes me beyond national allegiances.

 

But even if it were not present, I would yet have to live with the meaning of my commitment to the ministry of Jesus Christ. To me, the relationship of this ministry to the making of peace is so obvious that I sometimes marvel at those who ask me why I am speaking against the war. Could it be that they do not know that the Good News was meant for all men-for communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the one who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them? What then can I say to the Vietcong or to Castro or to Mao as a faithful minister of this one? Can I threaten them with death or must I not share with them my life?

 

Finally, as I try to explain for you and for myself the road that leads from Montgomery to this place, I would have offered all that was most valid if I simply said that I must be true to my conviction that I share with all men the calling to be a son of the living God. Beyond the calling of race or nation or creed is this vocation of sonship and brotherhood. Because I believe that the Father is deeply concerned, especially for His suffering and helpless and outcast children, I come tonight to speak for them. This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism and which go beyond our nation's self-defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation, for those it calls "enemy," for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.

 

And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and search within myself for ways to understand and respond in compassion, my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the ideologies of the Liberation Front, not of the junta in Saigon, but simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them, too, because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries.

 

They must see Americans as strange liberators. The Vietnamese people proclaimed their own independence in 1954-in 1945 rather-after a combined French and Japanese occupation and before the communist revolution in China. They were led by Ho Chi Minh. Even though they quoted the American Declaration of Independence in their own document of freedom, we refused to recognize them. Instead, we decided to support France in its reconquest of her former colony. Our government felt then that the Vietnamese people were not ready for independence, and we again fell victim to the deadly Western arrogance that has poisoned the international atmosphere for so long. With that tragic decision we rejected a revolutionary government seeking self-determination and a government that had been established not by China-for whom the Vietnamese have no great love-but by clearly indigenous forces that included some communists. For the peasants this new government meant real land reform, one of the most important needs in their lives.

 

For nine years following 1945 we denied the people of Vietnam the right of independence. For nine years we vigorously supported the French in their abortive effort to recolonize Vietnam. Before the end of the war we were meeting eighty percent of the French war costs. Even before the French were defeated at Dien Bien Phu, they began to despair of their reckless action, but we did not. We encouraged them with our huge financial and military supplies to continue the war even after they had lost the will. Soon we would be paying almost the full costs of this tragic attempt at recolonization.

 

After the French were defeated, it looked as if independence and land reform would come again through the Geneva Agreement. But instead there came the United States, determined that Ho should not unify the temporarily divided nation, and the peasants watched again as we supported one of the most vicious modern dictators, our chosen man, Premier Diem. The peasants watched and cringed as Diem ruthlessly rooted out all opposition, supported their extortionist landlords, and refused even to discuss reunification with the North. The peasants watched as all of this was presided over by United States influence and then by increasing numbers of United States troops who came to help quell the insurgency that Diem's methods had aroused. When Diem was overthrown they may have been happy, but the long line of military dictators seemed to offer no real change, especially in terms of their need for land and peace.

 

The only change came from America as we increased our troop commitments in support of governments which were singularly corrupt, inept, and without popular support. All the while the people read our leaflets and received the regular promises of peace and democracy and land reform. Now they languish under our bombs and consider us, not their fellow Vietnamese, the real enemy. They move sadly and apathetically as we herd them off the land of their fathers into concentration camps where minimal social needs are rarely met. They know they must move on or be destroyed by our bombs.

 

So they go, primarily women and children and the aged. They watch as we poison their water, as we kill a million acres of their crops. They must weep as the bulldozers roar through their areas preparing to destroy the precious trees. They wander into the hospitals with at least twenty casualties from American firepower for one Vietcong-inflicted injury. So far we may have killed a million of them, mostly children. They wander into the towns and see thousands of the children, homeless, without clothes, running in packs on the streets like animals. They see the children degraded by our soldiers as they beg for food. They see the children selling their sisters to our soldiers, soliciting for their mothers.

 

What do the peasants think as we ally ourselves with the landlords and as we refuse to put any action into our many words concerning land reform? What do they think as we test out our latest weapons on them, just as the Germans tested out new medicine and new tortures in the concentration camps of Europe? Where are the roots of the independent Vietnam we claim to be building? Is it among these voiceless ones?

 

We have destroyed their two most cherished institutions: the family and the village. We have destroyed their land and their crops. We have cooperated in the crushing of the nation's only noncommunist revolutionary political force, the unified Buddhist Church. We have supported the enemies of the peasants of Saigon. We have corrupted their women and children and killed their men.

 

Now there is little left to build on, save bitterness. Soon the only solid physical foundations remaining will be found at our military bases and in the concrete of the concentration camps we call "fortified hamlets." The peasants may well wonder if we plan to build our new Vietnam on such grounds as these. Could we blame them for such thoughts? We must speak for them and raise the questions they cannot raise. These, too, are our brothers.

 

Perhaps a more difficult but no less necessary task is to speak for those who have been designated as our enemies. What of the National Liberation Front, that strangely anonymous group we call "VC" or "communists"? What must they think of the United States of America when they realize that we permitted the repression and cruelty of Diem, which helped to bring them into being as a resistance group in the South? What do they think of our condoning the violence which led to their own taking up of arms? How can they believe in our integrity when now we speak of "aggression from the North" as if there were nothing more essential to the war? How can they trust us when now we charge them with violence after the murderous reign of Diem and charge them with violence while we pour every new weapon of death into their land? Surely we must understand their feelings, even if we do not condone their actions. Surely we must see that the men we supported pressed them to their violence. Surely we must see that our own computerized plans of destruction simply dwarf their greatest acts.

 

How do they judge us when our officials know that their membership is less than twenty-five percent communist, and yet insist on giving them the blanket name? What must they be thinking when they know that we are aware of their control of major sections of Vietnam, and yet we appear ready to allow national elections in which this highly organized political parallel government will not have a part? They ask how we can speak of free elections when the Saigon press is censored and controlled by the military junta. And they are surely right to wonder what kind of new government we plan to help form without them, the only party in real touch with the peasants. They question our political goals and they deny the reality of a peace settlement from which they will be excluded. Their questions are frighteningly relevant. Is our nation planning to build on political myth again, and then shore it up upon the power of a new violence? Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence, when it helps us to see the enemy's point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.

 

So, too, with Hanoi. In the North, where our bombs now pummel the land, and our mines endanger the waterways, we are met by a deep but understandable mistrust. To speak for them is to explain this lack of confidence in Western words, and especially their distrust of American intentions now. In Hanoi are the men who led the nation to independence against the Japanese and the French, the men who sought membership in the French Commonwealth and were betrayed by the weakness of Paris and the willfulness of the colonial armies. It was they who led a second struggle against French domination at tremendous costs, and then were persuaded to give up the land they controlled between the thirteenth and seventeenth parallel as a temporary measure at Geneva. After 1954 they watched us conspire with Diem to prevent elections which could have surely brought Ho Chi Minh to power over a united Vietnam, and they realized they had been betrayed again. When we ask why they do not leap to negotiate, these things must be remembered.

 

Also, it must be clear that the leaders of Hanoi considered the presence of American troops in support of the Diem regime to have been the initial military breach of the Geneva Agreement concerning foreign troops. They remind us that they did not begin to send troops in large numbers and even supplies into the South until American forces had moved into the tens of thousands.

 

Hanoi remembers how our leaders refused to tell us the truth about the earlier North Vietnamese overtures for peace, how the president claimed that none existed when they had clearly been made. Ho Chi Minh has watched as America has spoken of peace and built up its forces, and now he has surely heard the increasing international rumors of American plans for an invasion of the North. He knows the bombing and shelling and mining we are doing are part of traditional pre-invasion strategy. Perhaps only his sense of humor and of irony can save him when he hears the most powerful nation of the world speaking of aggression as it drops thousands of bombs on a poor, weak nation more than eight hundred, or rather, eight thousand miles away from its shores.

 

At this point I should make it clear that while I have tried in these last few minutes to give a voice to the voiceless in Vietnam and to understand the arguments of those who are called "enemy," I am as deeply concerned about our own troops there as anything else. For it occurs to me that what we are submitting them to in Vietnam is not simply the brutalizing process that goes on in any war where armies face each other and seek to destroy. We are adding cynicism to the process of death, for they must know after a short period there that none of the things we claim to be fighting for are really involved. Before long they must know that their government has sent them into a struggle among Vietnamese, and the more sophisticated surely realize that we are on the side of the wealthy, and the secure, while we create a hell for the poor.

 

Somehow this madness must cease. We must stop now. I speak as a child of God and brother to the suffering poor of Vietnam. I speak for those whose land is being laid waste, whose homes are being destroyed, whose culture is being subverted. I speak for the poor of America who are paying the double price of smashed hopes at home, and dealt death and corruption in Vietnam. I speak as a citizen of the world, for the world as it stands aghast at the path we have taken. I speak as one who loves America, to the leaders of our own nation: The great initiative in this war is ours; the initiative to stop it must be ours.

 

This is the message of the great Buddhist leaders of Vietnam. Recently one of them wrote these words, and I quote:

 

Each day the war goes on the hatred increases in the hearts of the Vietnamese and in the hearts of those of humanitarian instinct. The Americans are forcing even their friends into becoming their enemies. It is curious that the Americans, who calculate so carefully on the possibilities of military victory, do not realize that in the process they are incurring deep psychological and political defeat. The image of America will never again be the image of revolution, freedom, and democracy, but the image of violence and militarism.

 

If we continue, there will be no doubt in my mind and in the mind of the world that we have no honorable intentions in Vietnam. If we do not stop our war against the people of Vietnam immediately, the world will be left with no other alternative than to see this as some horrible, clumsy, and deadly game we have decided to play. The world now demands a maturity of America that we may not be able to achieve. It demands that we admit that we have been wrong from the beginning of our adventure in Vietnam, that we have been detrimental to the life of the Vietnamese people. The situation is one in which we must be ready to turn sharply from our present ways. In order to atone for our sins and errors in Vietnam, we should take the initiative in bringing a halt to this tragic war.

 

I would like to suggest five concrete things that our government should do immediately to begin the long and difficult process of extricating ourselves from this nightmarish conflict:

 

Number one: End all bombing in North and South Vietnam.

 

Number two: Declare a unilateral cease-fire in the hope that such action will create the atmosphere for negotiation.

 

Three: Take immediate steps to prevent other battlegrounds in Southeast Asia by curtailing our military buildup in Thailand and our interference in Laos.

 

Four: Realistically accept the fact that the National Liberation Front has substantial support in South Vietnam and must thereby play a role in any meaningful negotiations and any future Vietnam government.

 

Five: Set a date that we will remove all foreign troops from Vietnam in accordance with the 1954 Geneva Agreement.

 

Part of our ongoing [applause continues], part of our ongoing commitment might well express itself in an offer to grant asylum to any Vietnamese who fears for his life under a new regime which included the Liberation Front. Then we must make what reparations we can for the damage we have done. We must provide the medical aid that is badly needed, making it available in this country if necessary. Meanwhile [applause], meanwhile, we in the churches and synagogues have a continuing task while we urge our government to disengage itself from a disgraceful commitment. We must continue to raise our voices and our lives if our nation persists in its perverse ways in Vietnam. We must be prepared to match actions with words by seeking out every creative method of protest possible.

 

As we counsel young men concerning military service, we must clarify for them our nation's role in Vietnam and challenge them with the alternative of conscientious objection. [sustained applause] I am pleased to say that this is a path now chosen by more than seventy students at my own alma mater, Morehouse College, and I recommend it to all who find the American course in Vietnam a dishonorable and unjust one. [applause] Moreover, I would encourage all ministers of draft age to give up their ministerial exemptions and seek status as conscientious objectors. [applause] These are the times for real choices and not false ones. We are at the moment when our lives must be placed on the line if our nation is to survive its own folly. Every man of humane convictions must decide on the protest that best suits his convictions, but we must all protest.

 

Now there is something seductively tempting about stopping there and sending us all off on what in some circles has become a popular crusade against the war in Vietnam. I say we must enter that struggle, but I wish to go on now to say something even more disturbing.

 

The war in Vietnam is but a symptom of a far deeper malady within the American spirit, and if we ignore this sobering reality [applause], and if we ignore this sobering reality, we will find ourselves organizing "clergy and laymen concerned" committees for the next generation. They will be concerned about Guatemala and Peru. They will be concerned about Thailand and Cambodia. They will be concerned about Mozambique and South Africa. We will be marching for these and a dozen other names and attending rallies without end unless there is a significant and profound change in American life and policy. [sustained applause] So such thoughts take us beyond Vietnam, but not beyond our calling as sons of the living God.

 

In 1957 a sensitive American official overseas said that it seemed to him that our nation was on the wrong side of a world revolution. During the past ten years we have seen emerge a pattern of suppression which has now justified the presence of U.S. military advisors in Venezuela. This need to maintain social stability for our investments accounts for the counterrevolutionary action of American forces in Guatemala. It tells why American helicopters are being used against guerrillas in Cambodia and why American napalm and Green Beret forces have already been active against rebels in Peru.

 

It is with such activity in mind that the words of the late John F. Kennedy come back to haunt us. Five years ago he said, "Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable." [applause] Increasingly, by choice or by accident, this is the role our nation has taken, the role of those who make peaceful revolution impossible by refusing to give up the privileges and the pleasures that come from the immense profits of overseas investments. I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin [applause], we must rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.

 

A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life's roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.

 

A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation, it will look across the seas and see individual capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa, and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries, and say, "This is not just." It will look at our alliance with the landed gentry of South America and say, "This is not just." The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not just.

 

A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, "This way of settling differences is not just." This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death. [sustained applause]

 

America, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, can well lead the way in this revolution of values. There is nothing except a tragic death wish to prevent us from reordering our priorities so that the pursuit of peace will take precedence over the pursuit of war. There is nothing to keep us from molding a recalcitrant status quo with bruised hands until we have fashioned it into a brotherhood.

 

This kind of positive revolution of values is our best defense against communism. [applause] War is not the answer. Communism will never be defeated by the use of atomic bombs or nuclear weapons. Let us not join those who shout war and, through their misguided passions, urge the United States to relinquish its participation in the United Nations. These are days which demand wise restraint and calm reasonableness. We must not engage in a negative anticommunism, but rather in a positive thrust for democracy [applause], realizing that our greatest defense against communism is to take offensive action in behalf of justice. We must with positive action seek to remove those conditions of poverty, insecurity, and injustice, which are the fertile soil in which the seed of communism grows and develops.

 

These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression, and out of the wounds of a frail world, new systems of justice and equality are being born. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are rising up as never before. The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. We in the West must support these revolutions.

 

It is a sad fact that because of comfort, complacency, a morbid fear of communism, and our proneness to adjust to injustice, the Western nations that initiated so much of the revolutionary spirit of the modern world have now become the arch antirevolutionaries. This has driven many to feel that only Marxism has a revolutionary spirit. Therefore, communism is a judgment against our failure to make democracy real and follow through on the revolutions that we initiated. Our only hope today lies in our ability to recapture the revolutionary spirit and go out into a sometimes hostile world declaring eternal hostility to poverty, racism, and militarism. With this powerful commitment we shall boldly challenge the status quo and unjust mores, and thereby speed the day when "every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low [Audience:] (Yes); the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain."

 

A genuine revolution of values means in the final analysis that our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Every nation must now develop an overriding loyalty to mankind as a whole in order to preserve the best in their individual societies.

 

This call for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one's tribe, race, class, and nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all mankind. This oft misunderstood, this oft misinterpreted concept, so readily dismissed by the Nietzsches of the world as a weak and cowardly force, has now become an absolute necessity for the survival of man. When I speak of love I am not speaking of some sentimental and weak response. I'm not speaking of that force which is just emotional bosh. I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality. This Hindu-Muslim-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist belief about ultimate reality is beautifully summed up in the first epistle of Saint John: "Let us love one another (Yes), for love is God. (Yes) And every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love. . . . If we love one another, God dwelleth in us and his love is perfected in us." Let us hope that this spirit will become the order of the day.

 

We can no longer afford to worship the god of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation. The oceans of history are made turbulent by the ever-rising tides of hate. History is cluttered with the wreckage of nations and individuals that pursued this self-defeating path of hate. As Arnold Toynbee says: "Love is the ultimate force that makes for the saving choice of life and good against the damning choice of death and evil. Therefore the first hope in our inventory must be the hope that love is going to have the last word." Unquote.

 

We are now faced with the fact, my friends, that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked, and dejected with a lost opportunity. The tide in the affairs of men does not remain at flood-it ebbs. We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is adamant to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residues of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words, "Too late." There is an invisible book of life that faithfully records our vigilance or our neglect. Omar Khayyam is right: "The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on."

 

We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent coannihilation. We must move past indecision to action. We must find new ways to speak for peace in Vietnam and justice throughout the developing world, a world that borders on our doors. If we do not act, we shall surely be dragged down the long, dark, and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight.

 

Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter, but beautiful, struggle for a new world. This is the calling of the sons of God, and our brothers wait eagerly for our response. Shall we say the odds are too great? Shall we tell them the struggle is too hard? Will our message be that the forces of American life militate against their arrival as full men, and we send our deepest regrets? Or will there be another message-of longing, of hope, of solidarity with their yearnings, of commitment to their cause, whatever the cost? The choice is ours, and though we might prefer it otherwise, we must choose in this crucial moment of human history.

 

As that noble bard of yesterday, James Russell Lowell, eloquently stated:

 

Once to every man and nation comes a moment to decide, In the strife of Truth and Falsehood, for the good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight, And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light. Though the cause of evil prosper, yet 'tis truth alone is strong Though her portions be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.

 

And if we will only make the right choice, we will be able to transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of peace. If we will make the right choice, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our world into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. If we will but make the right choice, we will be able to speed up the day, all over America and all over the world, when justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

 

ORIGINAL PHOTO: unknown, found here.

IMAGE ALTERATION: /anomalous

INSPIRATION: counterpunch

La storia umana è sempre stata caratterizzata da innumerevoli conflitti, fin dai tempi preistorici. Platone considerava innate aggressività e competizione fra gli uomini, mentre la ricerca del profitto e la sete di potere fine a se stesso hanno sempre costituito un formidabile stimolo per provocare la guerra.

Nella società moderna questo si traduce nel cercare di ottenere il controllo sulle fonti di energia. In ogni caso, è sempre il connubio fra potere e ricchezza da un lato e povertà e degrado dall’altro a generare nell’uomo quel cinismo che - spesso con motivazioni religiose - permette di calpestare chiunque, donne e bambini compresi. Molti passi sono stati compiuti nella stabilizzazione democratica dei governi. Ciò permette di contenere le spinte individuali verso la ricerca del potere, ma molto deve ancora essere fatto nel rapporto fra capitalismo, mercato e terzo mondo.

Dopo la tragedia dei due conflitti mondiali, è stata la contrapposizione fra la NATO ed il Patto di Varsavia a creare le condizioni idonee alla proliferazione incontrollata di armi nucleari. Il mondo ha assistito ad ulteriori genocidi e pulizie etniche, verificatisi in territori ed epoche diverse: Vietnam, Ruanda, ex Jugoslavia, fino ad arrivare alle recenti guerre in Afghanistan e nel Golfo. Oggi siamo stati spettatori ravvicinati delle rivoluzioni divampate nel corso della Primavera Araba, mentre permangono e segnano il cammino sociale le plurime diversità.

  

Human history has always been characterized by innumerable conflicts, since prehistoric times. Plato regarded innate aggression and competition among men, while the pursuit of profit and the thirst for power as an end in itself has always been a tremendous stimulus to provoke war.

In modern society this results in trying to gain control over sources of energy. In any case, it is always the combination of power and wealth on the one hand and poverty and human degradation on the other to generate cynicism that - often with religious motivations - allows you to step on anyone, including women and children. Much progress has been made in establishing democratic governments. This enables it to hold the push towards the individual search for power, but much remains to be done in the relationship between capitalism, market and third world.

After the tragedy of two world wars, was the contrast between NATO and the Warsaw Pact to create conditions suitable for the uncontrolled proliferation of nuclear weapons. The world has witnessed more genocides and ethnic cleansing that took place in different regions and eras: Vietnam, Rwanda, former Yugoslavia, up to the recent wars in Afghanistan and the Gulf. Today we were close spectators of the revolutions that erupted during the Arab Spring, but still mark the path and the multiple social diversity.

 

The Hermitage, a couple of kilometres from Dunkeld, is a Georgian 'pleasure ground' created in Craigvinean Forest for the third Duke of Atholl, for whom the natural woodland was insufficiently picturesque. A Hall of Mirrors, dedicated to the blind poet Ossian, was constructed overlooking Black Linn Falls, and the eponymous 'hermit's cave' was built amongst carefully-tended trees (though a permanent resident for the folly couldn't be found).

 

Cynicism aside, the result is excellent, with the ~1 km path beside the River Braan to Ossian's Hall lined by monumental Douglas firs, grown from seeds gathered in North America by the Scottish botanist David Douglas of nearby(ish) Scone. Until being blown over in 2017 at the age of 267 years, the 'Hermitage Douglas-fir' was the first tree in Britain known to have exceeded 61 m in height (aka '200 feet' in Obsolete).

[This almost sculptural stump isn't it.]

PART 4 DAKOTA

 

John was a war child born during the Second World War. "The bombing was going on over our heads when I was born." he used to say. In his heart, he never grew up from being a boy in England in the times of Noel Coward. Tessie O'Shea and BBC Radio. His cynicism was only skin deep, an armor to hide his vulnerable self. Family birthdays and Xmas's were very big on his list. Around my birthday in 1979. John and I went to a Madison Avenue antique shop to try a sofa and a few other things. I wasn't aware that John was also frantically looking for a birthday gift for me at the time. I use the expression "frantically" not because there was any reason for him to be frantic. He was just that way... an emotionally charged person. The sofa was a genuine art deco period piece. It was beautiful. But it turned out that the one in the shop was actually not for sale. "If you like it, we'll make the exact same thing for you." It sounded like a con to me. "So he's gonna make a new antique sofa for me? ...nice", I thought. "But I like this one", I said. "No, this is not for sale." "I see." I delicately bounced up and down on the sofa. half hoping that one of the legs might give in so he would have to sell that one to me.

 

I heard later from John that, while I was bouncing on the sofa, he quickly took the man aside and asked to have a White Chess Set (my artwork) made out of 18th century Indian Ivory Chess Sets. "And this is the inscription I want." John whispered to the guy and scribbled the message on a piece of paper. "Happy Birthday love xxx From the King to the Queen." The man, however, read, "Happy Birthday love xxx From the Kids to the Queen," and ordered the inscription accordingly. When John saw that on the Chess Set, he was not a very happy man. John: "Kids, what kids?" The man: “Wasn’t it supposed to be from you and your son?" John would have chopped the guy's head off... if only he was back in England in the Elizabethan Times. "It's from the King, silly!" "Oh, the King..."

 

Both of us were either too busy or together too much to find a time to secretly go shopping for a surprise gift. So many times we relied on people around us to get us things. After that incident of walking into that antique shop, we both started to rely on that silly man to get things for each other. I got John a 1950's Jukebox for his birthday. He loved it. Xmas came. This would be the last Xmas we would spend together. The Jukebox was set up in one of the rooms in our apartment. It was a totally empty room with no furniture. But the brightly lit Jukebox instantly made the whole room look like a happening disco. Elliot Mints, the only friend we had left by then, and John made an elegant invitation card for the Xmas Ball. John delivered the card to me and a box of gardenias. "Madam..." "Oh, how beautiful!" I was impressed. John gave me an elegant kiss, like in the movies. He wore a suit. I dressed up for the occasion, too, wearing a long, black velvet dress John got for me when we were in England. John and I danced and Elliot looked on. Nobody else was invited. John called it the world's most exclusive club. He was very, very, very happy. We were about to enter 1980, our last year together.

 

The intrigues surrounding us were getting thicker as we stepped into 1980. We felt it. "But the eye of the storm is very quiet" John said. We had great laughs together. We were partners at work and family at home. We loved working together and we loved our son, Sean. We understood each other in such a way, that no elaborate explaining was ever necessary... though we liked discussing our ideas and plans for the near and distant future. There was an acute sense that time was accelerating, and that we were caught in a spiral that was moving at the speed of light.

 

Looking back, it was the happiest and therefore the most tragic period of our lives. As John said in his song, "You don't know what you got, until you lose it." We thought we knew... but we really didn't.

 

Yoko Ono Lennon NYC 1998

 

Illustration by John Lennon, colored by Yoko Ono Lennon.

 

from John Lennon Anthology CD box set booklet.

I'm quite lucky because I've never really been bullied for being gay, but there are so many other people, particulary in third world countries, where being an LGBT individual can get you thrown in prison, tortured or even put to death.

 

I thought I'd post this photo because, prepare yourself for some cynicism here, I feel like a lot of people say that they accept LGBT people and that they're supportive of equal rights but when it comes down to it LGBT people are still solely represented by their sexuality/gender, and seen as something to be laughed at/entertained by. By that I mean if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender people define you because of that and still tend to stereotype.

 

I guess what I'm trying to say is yes the LGBT community has a lot of different aspects to it and I'm not against stereotypically "gay" things, like drag queens and pride parades (i love that stuff). But I want people to know that LGBT individuals are more than that, and need to be remembered and supported, which is what I feel is lacking in some countries. Mainstream media rarely reports on acts of homophobia in Russia, or Uganda, yet they do when it's against another more accepted minority. And it seems like people are just walking by and ignoring these acts of inequality because it's nothing to do with them, they aren't gay so they detach and become desensitized to it, which worries me.

 

Blegh, I just want the world to be a peaceful place where we can all eat cake and hold hands. Sorry for the rant, I know the LGBT community has made tremendous leaps in the past few decades but there's still some way to go. And sorry if it feels like I'm targeting you - I'm not, it's just when I get passionate about something I go cray. As my mum would say "I've got a bee in my bonnet."

 

I will be posting some more photos soon! Need to catch up, majorly.

I was doing some weeding in the back garden tonight while the dogs ran and played in the yard. I heard some squeaking and thought they were playing with some chew toys before I realized that they’ve chewed all the squeakers out of their chew toys. You can imagine the rest.

 

I’m posting this photo to remind myself to watch out for the small and defenseless things in this world, and to protect them when it’s possible to do so. I’m posting it so I don’t let cynicism get the best of me. I’m posting it because I had a long day and I want to remember there are worse things than being frustrated with my own small circumstances. I’m posting it to remind myself that my dogs have instincts that we as humans like to pretend they don’t have, and to help me keep in mind that it’s foolish to pretend they don’t have them.

 

As I write this, my man is out helping lead the search for a three-year-old handicapped boy who has been missing since yesterday afternoon (story here, although I don’t know how long the link will work). Hope is fading. The child’s story is endlessly sad.

 

One of the rabbits is still alive. I took what was left of the nest and put it in a bowl, and put the rabbit in the bowl, and put the bowl under a warm light. Both the rabbit’s back legs are broken.

 

I hope the pain ends soon, for all it’s occupying.

 

Update Thurs. a.m.: rabbit died.

 

“I will eliminate hatred, envy, jealousy, selfishness, and cynicism, by developing love for all humanity, because I know that a negative attitude toward others can never bring me success. I will cause others to believe in me, because I will believe in them, and in myself.”

― Napoleon Hill, Think and Grow Rich: The Landmark Bestseller Now Revised and Updated for the 21st Century

~ George Bernard Shaw

     

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Post'n'Run Cliché shot for this week ya'll!

 

~~~

PLEASE NOTE:

 

If you can read this, shame on you. You should be outside enjoying summer!!!

Here Lies The Truth, a personal visual representation of my long lost dream about the end of the world. Ive been trying to put this dream into one piece for years now and I think I finally accomplished this in my new tryptich.

 

At the top is a cross there are two bloody nails and no figure of christ, this represents how faith is only what you make it in yourself, no matter what the people or books tell you what to believe, any iconography, explanations, it only matters if you truly believe in whatever you believe in yourself, no matter what any one else does to destroy it. The grave of truth opens up into the angel with the scabbed wings. Purity being corrupted by the reality of the world and human nature. The inside then reveals itself, and truth begins to unravel.

 

If an artist can destroy your faith, then your faith is rather fragile - Marilyn Manson

 

My Dream starts with a realization of the world and what it truly is, accepting both the bad and the good parts about it. This realization is in a dive bar’s bathroom. The bar is full of neon lights and junkies. I look into the cheap reflecting blue on my face in the mirror while a protest enlarges outside as REM’S song “It's the End of the World as We Know It” plays softly. My reflection yearns for an end. I punch the mirror and pull out a piece of it. The strip of mirror caught my eyes as I knew what I was about to do next. I slit my wrists, feeling nothing. As I slowly start to lose consciousness and push through doped, coked, and dazed addicts, I walk out into the street. The street resembles a long lost gloomy Tahrir square filled with somber blue light and celebratory confetti. This is where all the worlds problems come together and are exposed, what we have all become, either shells of what was once a human, a clone, or a heretic, we are all joined in one place for one last time, and I ended it early for myself because I knew the truth. I walk into the street and look out at the main square and see a large demonstration. Security cameras and tv screens fill the square along with revolting protesters and fearless cops. The tv’s headlines are twisting what is actually happening, and the cops are beating people up for standing up for themselves and their basic human rights.

 

At the end of the world, Jesus christ is supposed to come down to Earth, but that higher power now is replaced and is taken advantage of by government and religion. Jesus was the first real rebel, and he was crucified for his spreading of love, light, and equality, which essentially is what his essence was about.His spirit is crucified. His spirit is replaced by the man in red, who represents government. The pope, representing religion as a whole, stands there as he takes money from the government and preaches his gospel. The people below them jump ecstatically waving their money in the air asking for help, putting all their trust in a higher power without second guessing it. They all yearn for any explanation for their lives, whether thats religion, or government, or anything that can make it easier for them not to deal with and analyze / explain it for themselves. Because its too scary to really face the truth, they take anything they can get. The government sneakily gives money to the pope as he carelessly throws sunflower seeds at his people, the people of the world. He treats them like animals. A smiley face defaces the american flag in cynicism and irony. It smirks at the world about how the people are being fooled and how they are being ignorant and blind to the truth by choice.

 

The transition from Twilight, the chaotic birth and interaction to the end of the world, to dawn, to an apocalyptic protest which brings forth all chaos and scary monsters , to dusk, the end, the acceptance, and the calm. The world sighs in relief as I go into the graveyard of what the world has lost, among love, humanity, sanity, intelligence, is me. My name, my empty grave. As I stand above my grave ready to leave this world and what it has become, I say a prayer, and I jump into it. The sky is clam, the moon smiles at me in cynicism, and the world is gone, here lies the truth.

 

My figure at the dusk stage is inspired by the tarot card 5 of cups. “The Five of Cups is a card that signifies difficulty, loss, and the challenges of dealing with that loss. The figure in the card wears a black cloak in which he hides his face in apparent despair.”

British Real Photograph postcard, no. 86.B. Photo: Warner Bros and Vitaphone Pictures. Dick Powell as Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet (Edward Dmytryk, 1944).

 

American singer and actor Dick Powell (1904-1963) was also a film producer, film director, and studio head. Though he came to stardom as a juvenile lead in the Warner backstage musicals, Powell showed versatility and successfully transformed into a hardboiled leading man in Film Noirs. He was the first actor to portray the private detective Philip Marlowe on screen.

 

Richard Ewing Powell was born in Mountain View, the seat of Stone County in northern Arkansas. Powell was the son of Ewing Powell and Sallie Rowena Thompson. He was one of three brothers. His brothers were Luther and Howard Powell, who ended up as vice president of the Illinois Central Railroad. The family moved to Little Rock in 1914, where Powell sang in church choirs and with local orchestras and started his own band. Powell attended the former Little Rock College before he started his entertainment career as a singer and banjo player with the Royal Peacock Band. He then got a gig with the Charlie Davis band and toured with them throughout the mid-west, appearing at dance halls and picture theatres. In 1925, he married Mildred Maund, a model, but she found being married to an entertainer, not to her liking. After a final trip to Cuba together, Mildred moved to Hemphill, Texas, and the couple divorced in 1932. He recorded a number of records with Davis and on his own, for the Vocalion label in the late 1920s. Powell moved to Pittsburgh, where he found great local success as the Master of Ceremonies at the Enright Theater and the Stanley Theater. In April 1930, Warner Bros. bought Brunswick Records, which at that time owned Vocalion. Warner Bros. was sufficiently impressed by Dick Powell's singing and stage presence to offer him a film contract in 1932. He made his film debut as a singing bandleader in Blessed Event (Roy Del Ruth, 1932) with Lee Tracy and Mary Brian. He was borrowed by Fox to support Will Rogers in Too Busy to Work (John G. Blystone, 1932). He was a boyish crooner, the sort of role he specialised in for the next few years. Back at Warners, he supported George Arliss in The King's Vacation (John G. Adolfi, 1933). Then he was the love interest for Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), which was a massive hit. Warner let him repeat the role in Gold Diggers of 1933 (Mervyn LeRoy, 1933), which was another big success. Looking rather younger than his actual years, Powell soon found himself typecast as clean-cut singing juveniles. Another hit was Footlight Parade (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), with Keeler, Joan Blondell, and James Cagney. Powell was upped to star for College Coach (William A. Wellman, 1933), then went back to more ensemble pieces including 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), Convention City (Archie Mayo, 1933), and Dames (Ray Enright, Busby Berkeley, 1934). He was top-billed in Gold Diggers of 1935 (Busby Berkeley, 1935), with Joan Blondell. He supported Marion Davies in Page Miss Glory (Mervyn LeRoy, 1935), made for Cosmopolitan Pictures, a production company financed by Davies' lover William Randolph Hearst who released through Warners. Warners gave Dick Powell a change of pace, casting him as Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Dieterle, Max Reinhardt, 1935). He did two films with Blondell, Stage Struck (Busby Berkeley, 1936) and Gold Diggers of 1937 (Lloyd Bacon, 1937). Then 20th Century Fox borrowed him for On the Avenue (Roy Del Ruth, 1937) with Madeleine Carroll. Back at Warners, he appeared in Hard to Get (Ray Enright, 1938) with Olivia de Havilland, and Naughty but Nice (Ray Enright, 1939), starring Ann Sheridan. Fed up with the repetitive nature of his roles, Powell left Warner Bros and went to work for Paramount.

 

At Paramount, Dick Powell and his then-wife, Joan Blondell were in another musical, I Want a Divorce (Ralph Murphy, 1940). Then Powell got a chance to appear in a non-musical and starred opposite Ellen Drew in the sparkling Preston Sturges comedy Christmas in July (1940). I.S. Mowis at IMDb cites Powell saying: "I knew I wasn't the greatest singer in the world and I saw no reason why an actor should restrict himself to any one particular phase of the business". Universal borrowed him to support Abbott and Costello in In the Navy (Arthur Lubin, 1941), one of the most popular films of 1941. He was in a fantasy comedy directed by René Clair, It Happened Tomorrow (1944) then went over to MGM to appear opposite Lucille Ball in Meet the People (Charles Reisner, 1944), which was a box office flop. During this period, Powell starred in the musical program Campana Serenade, which was broadcast on NBC radio (1942–1943) and CBS radio (1943–1944). I.S. Mowis at IMDb: "Few actors ever managed a complete image transition as thoroughly as did Dick Powell: in his case, from the boyish, wavy-haired crooner in musicals to rugged crime fighters in films noir." By 1944, Powell felt he was too old to play romantic leading men anymore. Still dissatisfied with lightweight roles, Powell lobbied hard to get the lead in Double Indemnity. He lost out to Fred MacMurray, another Hollywood nice guy. MacMurray's success, however, fueled Powell's resolve to pursue projects with greater range. Instead, he was slotted into more of the same fare, refused to comply and was suspended. Powell tried his luck at RKO and at last, managed to secure a lucrative role: that of hard-boiled private eye Philip Marlowe in Raymond Chandler's Murder, My Sweet (Edward Dmytryk, 1944). He was the first actor to play Marlowe – by name – in motion pictures. Hollywood had previously adapted some Marlowe novels, but with the lead character changed. Later, Powell was the first actor to play Marlowe on radio, in 1944 and 1945, and on television, in an episode of Climax! (1954). Murder My Sweet was a big hit. Bosley Crowther in the New York Times: " ...and while he may lack the steely coldness and cynicism of a Humphrey Bogart, Mr. Powell need not offer any apologies. He has definitely stepped out of the song-and-dance, pretty-boy league with this performance". Powell had successfully reinvented himself as a dramatic actor. His career changed dramatically: he was cast in a series of Films Noirs. On the radio, Powell played detective Richard Rogue in the series Rogue's Gallery beginning in 1945. On-screen, Dmytryk, and Powell reteamed to make the film Cornered (Edward Dmytryk, 1945), a gripping, post-World War II thriller that helped define the Film Noir style. For Columbia, he played a detective in Johnny O'Clock (Robert Rossen, 1947) and made To the Ends of the Earth (Robert Stevenson, 1948) with Signe Hasso. In 1948, he stepped out of the brutish type when he starred in Pitfall (André De Toth, 1948), a Film Noir in which a bored insurance company worker falls for an innocent but dangerous woman, played by Lizabeth Scott. He broadened his range appearing in a Western, Station West (Sidney Lanfield, 1948), and a French Foreign Legion tale, Rogues' Regiment (Robert Florey, 1949) with Marta Toren. He was a Mountie in Mrs. Mike (Louis King, 1950). From 1949 to 1953, Powell played the lead role in the NBC radio theater production Richard Diamond, Private Detective. His character in the 30-minute weekly was a likable private detective with a quick wit. Many episodes were written by Blake Edwards and many ended with Detective Diamond having an excuse to sing a little song to his date.

 

Dick Powell took a break from tough-guy roles in The Reformer and the Redhead (Melvin Frank, Norman Panama, 1950), opposite his new wife June Allyson. Then it was back to tougher movies: Cry Danger (Robert Parrish, 1951), as an ex-con; and The Tall Target (Anthony Mann, 1951), as a detective who tries to prevent the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He returned to comedy with You Never Can Tell (Lou Breslow, 1951). He had a good role as best-selling novelist James Lee Bartlow in the popular melodrama, The Bad and the Beautiful (Vincente Minnelli, 1952). His final film performance was in a romantic comedy Susan Slept Here (1954) for director Frank Tashlin. Even when he appeared in lighter fare such as Susan Slept Here (Frank Tashlin, 1954), he never sang in his later roles. It was his final onscreen appearance in a feature film and included a dance number with co-star Debbie Reynolds. By this stage, Powell had turned director. His feature debut was Split Second (1953) with Stephen McNally and Alexis Smith. He followed it with The Conqueror (1956), coproduced by Howard Hughes starring John Wayne as Genghis Khan. The exterior scenes were filmed in St. George, Utah, downwind of U.S. above-ground atomic tests. The cast and crew totaled 220, and of that number, 91 had developed some form of cancer by 1981, and 46 had died of cancer by then, including Powell and Wayne. He directed Allyson opposite Jack Lemmon in You Can't Run Away from It (1956). Powell then made two war films at Fox with Robert Mitchum, The Enemy Below (1957) and The Hunters (1958). In the 1950s, Powell was one of the founders of Four Star Television, along with Charles Boyer, David Niven, and Ida Lupino. He appeared in and supervised several shows for that company. Powell played the role of Willie Dante in episodes of Four Star Playhouse, and guest-starred in numerous Four Star programs. Shortly before his death, Powell sang on camera for the final time in a guest-star appearance on Four Star's Ensign O'Toole, singing 'The Song of the Marines', which he first sang in his film The Singing Marine (Ray Enright, 1937). He hosted and occasionally starred in his Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater on CBS from 1956–1961, and his final anthology series, The Dick Powell Show on NBC from 1961 through 1963; after his death, the series continued through the end of its second season (as The Dick Powell Theater), with guest hosts. He married three times: Mildred Evelyn Maund (1925-1932), Joan Blondell (1936-1944) and June Allyson ( 1945, until his death in 1963). He adopted Joan Blondell's son from a previous marriage, Norman Powell, who later became a television producer; the couple also had one child together, Ellen Powell. He had two children with Allyson, Pamela (adopted) and Richard 'Dick' Powell, Jr. Powell's ranch-style house was used for exterior filming on the ABC TV series, Hart to Hart. Powell was a friend of Hart to Hart actor Robert Wagner and producer Aaron Spelling. In 1962, Powell acknowledged rumours that he was undergoing treatment for cancer. The disease was originally diagnosed as an allergy, with Powell first experiencing symptoms while traveling East to promote his program. Upon his return to California, Powell's personal physician conducted tests and found malignant tumors on his neck and chest. Powell died at the age of 58 in 1963. His body was cremated and his remains were interred in the Columbarium of Honor at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California. In The Day of the Locust (1975), Powell was portrayed by his son Dick Powell Jr.

 

Sources: I.S. Mowis (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Created with fd's Flickr Toys.

 

Hello, Chicago.

 

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

 

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen, by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different, that their voices could be that difference.

 

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states.

 

We are, and always will be, the United States of America.

 

It's the answer that led those who've been told for so long by so many to be cynical and fearful and doubtful about what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

 

It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this date in this election at this defining moment change has come to America.

 

A little bit earlier this evening, I received an extraordinarily gracious call from Sen.

McCain.

 

Sen. McCain fought long and hard in this campaign. And he's fought even longer and harder for the country that he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine. We are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader.

 

I congratulate him; I congratulate Gov. Palin for all that they've achieved. And I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead.

 

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart, and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on the train home to Delaware, the vice president-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

 

And I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last 16 years the rock of our family, the love of my life, the nation's next first lady Michelle Obama.

 

Sasha and Malia I love you both more than you can imagine. And you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the new White House.

 

And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother's watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight. I know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

 

To my sister Maya, my sister Alma, all my other brothers and sisters, thank you so much for all the support that you've given me. I am grateful to them.

 

And to my campaign manager, David Plouffe, the unsung hero of this campaign, who built the best -- the best political campaign, I think, in the history of the United States of America.

 

To my chief strategist David Axelrod who's been a partner with me every step of the way.

 

To the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.

 

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to. It belongs to you. It belongs to you.

 

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington. It began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston. It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give $5 and $10 and $20 to the cause.

 

It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep.

 

It drew strength from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on doors of perfect strangers, and from the millions of Americans who volunteered and organized and proved that more than two centuries later a government of the people, by the people, and for the people has not perished from the Earth.

 

This is your victory.

 

And I know you didn't do this just to win an election. And I know you didn't do it for me.

 

You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime -- two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century.

 

Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us.

 

There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after the children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage or pay their doctors' bills or save enough for their child's college education.

 

There's new energy to harness, new jobs to be created, new schools to build, and threats to meet, alliances to repair.

 

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even in one term. But, America, I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there.

 

I promise you, we as a people will get there.

 

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as president. And we know the government can't solve every problem.

 

But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And, above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation, the only way it's been done in America for 221 years -- block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

 

What began 21 months ago in the depths of winter cannot end on this autumn night.

 

This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were.

 

It can't happen without you, without a new spirit of service, a new spirit of sacrifice.

 

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other.

 

Let us remember that, if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers.

 

In this country, we rise or fall as one nation, as one people. Let's resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long.

 

Let's remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House, a party founded on the values of self-reliance and individual liberty and national unity.

 

Those are values that we all share. And while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress.

 

As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, we are not enemies but friends. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.

 

And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.

 

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.

 

To those -- to those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.

 

That's the true genius of America: that America can change. Our union can be perfected. What we've already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

 

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight's about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing: Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

 

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons -- because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

 

And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America -- the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

 

At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

 

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs, a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

 

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

 

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.

 

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination.

 

And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change.

 

Yes we can.

 

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves -- if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

 

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment.

 

This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.

 

Thank you. God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.

 

- Barack Obama - President Elect

 

Sen. Barack Obama spoke at a rally in Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois, after winning the race for the White House Tuesday night. The following is an exact transcript of his speech. (Source CNN)

~photo by Clairvaux Debevec

 

The new highway meant that no one used this stretch of road much anymore. A for-sale sign sat on the garaged car the owner could no longer afford. Red paint peels from the trim of the gas tanks, but you can almost hear the crunch of the tires on the gravel as the next customer pulls in. Old friends were made here, sharing a cold drink and some gossip, with the need for gasoline a handy excuse. The station wasn’t busy, days passed and few stopped, but when he said he’d be back, she believed him. And she waited.

 

Song For The Road

 

Song for the Road

 

Well the day casts down

Lengthy shadows on unfamiliar towns

I drove 300 miles from the place I call home

And I tip my hat to the angel of the North

 

And the sun sets fire to the heavens

On the hills over Sheffield tonight

And I'll sail over this countryside with new friends and old

And we are no where, but man, we're alright

 

So you can keep your belief in whatever

I'll wear my cynicism like a tattoo

While poets try to engineer definitions of love

You know all I can think of is you

 

And I can't wait to see you on Sunday

Far from the traffic and the smoke and the noise

For this evening I will play back every message that you sent

And I will sleep to the sound of your voice

 

Now I don't like using words like forever

But I will love you til the end of today

And in the morning when I remember everything that you are

I know I'll fall for you over again

 

I know someday this all will be over

And it's hard to say what most I will miss

Just give me one way to spend my last moments alive

And I'll choose this, I'll choose this, I'll choose this

I'll choose this, I'll choose this, I'll choose this

I'll choose this, I'll choose this, I'll choose this

 

Guess Who's Baaaa-aaaaack

 

Well... Here we are again. Five years later, I'm back in the land of the food courts, the Starbucks lines, the awkward elevator rides (actually - that part is a new step-up for this casual tourist of the rat race). However... there are a few differences. Not many- but some significant enough to be proud.

For one thing, this is the job title I actually really wanted for the past year (or however long ago it was that I discovered its existence). And nothing is forcing me to do it this time, other than a general obvious need to do more with my life. I left a cool job teaching digital illustration at a college for it. I mean let's get serious, I was broke since forever and was dying for some real cashola. So I got it, or at least a good run at it, plus the sweet title. It's a nice kickstart to a new year.

However. In typical form, the actual place of work appears to be a complete shit show. It may turn out not to be the case, but it's pretty hard to tell from here. I'll let the details pour out as they may (hoping that I continue to have time to churn these comics), and just jump straight to the point of this one.

 

Clickie Magoo.

 

I had arrived late on my first day- 20 minutes, to be exact. But I sort of figured no one was counting, and believe I was right about that. She rolled in about a half hour later, meaning sometime just after 11 am. We exchanged brief but charming hellos (her in a cooing "haiiiiiiii.... how aaaaaare youuuuuuuu...", then she sat at her cubicle (I was already planted at mine), where she proceeded to do noticeably nothing for the next two hours. I know this because I could hear her attempts at chit chat with the guys who worked around her. Though she'd said it was her first day too, she clearly already had a tepid rapport with them. I'll casually point out here that the company I work for is Indian... as are the majority of the employees, Clickie included. She's also quite attractive, though my guess is considerably less so when not done up to the slick nines as she was today.

But it wasn't their banter that got me more focused on her than whatever it was I was supposed to be doing at my desk. It was her delivery. Everything came out in that weird song... "How was your Newwwwww Yeaaar? What did you eeeeaaaaaeeet?"

The guys reacted like it was perfectly normal, like maybe it is (or once was) a norm for a girl to speak like a sedated Tweety Bird. Maybe they're just really polite. There could be several layers to this story, and I hope there are, because I feel like I already covered six chapters in a day.

At some point, Clickie (we'll get to the nickname shortly) picked up her phone, and within seconds, was shrieking with laughter as though it was a long lost best friend. But there was something poignantly unnatural about it, the way she pierced certain syllables so that they reverberated across every cubicle wall in the office. I heard something about a gym membership, and I laughed silently at my laptop screen, anticipating what came about ten minutes later- her providing her name to the perfect stranger on the line.

But it wasn't any of this that had me unable to focus on anything but this well-dressed woman sitting around doing nothing. It was the clicking (shocker!). At first, I though it was something she was pretending to ascribe to that absentminded thing one might do with their retractable pen whilst in the throes of concentrated work. But early on, it had gone way past the point of ridiculous. As in, non-stop clicking, every second of every minute, relentlessly. And very loud. At some point, I sneaked a glance in her cubicle's direction and saw that it was in fact a step-clicker clutched in her hand. She was making loud, deliberate, repeated punches on the button. I mean, literally, how can you concentrate on anything else after discovering that? It was driving me insane, in that leaky-faucet-insomnia way, but I was more fascinated than angry... marginally.

 

At some point, she wheeled her chair over to me for a chat. As weirded out as I was, I was full of questions so I was glad for this. I had extract the details one question at a time. She told me she had worked at the company two years ago, but left to start her own business. This business was meditation for corporate clients. She said she'd come from a tough background (I forgot this detail till just now and so am feeling a bit bad but not enough to stop writing). She'd gotten into Spirituality and Meditation, and it had completely changed her life in the most incredible ways. Having heard that the person who'd taken over her position had left, she had returned now to 'help out', though was still running her business on the side and would likely be working her practice into this very workplace. She added flatly that she was a writer. I asked what the position was at the company, and she said "helping companies with digital". Feeling like some elaboration was needed (not even technically speaking, we all seem to be helping companies with digital these days), I asked "Like digital what, as in platforms?"

She stared at me blankly. "I don't know what platforms means."

Long pause. "I don't know digital".

Feeling I'd pried enough, I did my bit to shift the conversation by rambling about myself and my own needs for meditation on account of having trouble sleeping. She nodded throughout, but said nothing. I started stretching out the pauses between sentences to give her deliberate cues, but it seemed fairly apparent her eyes had glazed over. I wasn't sure if she was actually just meditating while staring at me, or sleeping with her eyes open. Either way, I eventually sputtered out excuses about needing to get 'back to work', and we both quietly turned away from the puddle of diarrhea our chat had become.

 

Over the next few hours, we exchanged several blank stares, but zero acknowledgment. If my curiosity about the clicking hadn't eventually gotten the best of me, we may likely have never spoken again. When I returned from lunch, she was sitting back in her chair, eyes closed and clicking away. It continued on through the 2 - 5 pm eternal stretch of office life. About five clicks a second, every second. There were occasional lapses here and there, but so consistent overall that it became very possible it was in fact her actual job to just sit there clicking. By 3pm I had concluded it was either somehow that or some sort of treatment for a medical (mental) condition, so that her place of work had to permit it.

Very frequently, she would get up and pace around the office, clicking away like that. Clearly she was very comfortable there. At one point she'd become excited for whatever reason, leaped from her desk and bolted (yes, full run) to the exit, exactly like a little girl. But no matter where she was, I could hear the clicking, like my own personal Captain Hook.

I overheard her telling someone something about "Fifteen Thousand" and "Five Million". I knew it couldn't be sales related, so deducted this was about the clicks. I finally just asked her about it at 5:30, right before getting up to leave.

So here it is. Affirmations. Each click is an affirmation- something positive she can tell herself about her life. She'd done it one million times last year and found the results tremendous - as in, she started to attract extraordinarily positive energy (aka, good things happening to her). She'd even garnered the attention of the Huffington Post, for whom she now writes (remember, she's a writer). And now a production company was interested in her work. She'd taken a few weeks' break over the holidays, but had started fresh on January 1st, resolving to up the ante for sake of even more positive energy (fame). Her quota for the year is Five Million. And that means, that meannnnns.... Fifteen Thousand Clicks a day.

She had proof that it was working. On January 2nd, she'd opened her door to a gift left by a neighbour she barely knew. And today, GoodLife Fitness had called her to let her know someone had signed her up for a free pass at the gym (this was that phone call).

Sidebar: I know this marketing tactic - when you're paying for the membership, they say you get 10 free passes for friends, but the catch is, you have to write down all ten people and their phone numbers on the spot. I had to do it. It's not easy. You can't waste it on someone who won't go. By the time I'd gotten home from the gym, by then-boyfriend called me to ask why GoodLife was calling him and asking him to book a date and time for a tour of the gym and a chance to use the machines. I called them, outraged that they'd been doing the rounds of my ten-names list without asking me.

Anyway... she has apparently also met the. most. amazing. guy. So even if you're not impressed with the neighbour's 'goodwill' or the pyramid scheme of the gym, the romance jackpot trumps every ounce of your cynicism, especially you - old single sucker in January. It has the production studio agent intrigued anyway.

 

And hey... she met Me.

  

Sin mas palabras que las que dan origen a esta canción:

 

Espejito, espejito

 

A veces hablamos pero en distintos lenguajes.

 

Dedicado a mi querido Dr Zambayonny.

 

"Yo me dejo trampas a mí mismo

y me juzgo con cinismo y me condeno

y me cuelgo del abismo de los huevos

y me ayudo a escapar en un descuido

yo me reto a muerte por cobarde

y me mato y me salvo y me doy miedo

y traiciono sin dudar mi propio duelo

encontrándome feliz por todas partes".

 

Without more words than those that give rise to this song:

 

Mirror, mirror

 

Sometimes we talk but in different languages.

 

Dedicated to my dear Dr Zambayonny.

 

"I left traps to myself

and i was tried with cynicism and i condemned

and i am posting from the abyss of eggs

and helped me to escape in a neglect

I challenge to death by cowardly

and i killed him and saved me and i am afraid

and betrayed without doubt my own mourning

passionately happy by all parties".

Florence Ballard what a gutsy woman .Her passing was a tragedy and

loss to her family and fans.She got a raw deal and put up with to much

abuse in her short life.The sad fact in 1960 she was raped when was she

17 which forever changed her life.This untreated trauma would ultimately

affect her as so often ,depression,anxiety,self image,trust,substance

abuse,bad choices in men.Almost similar to Tammi Terrell's early life

when she was traumatized.If only Florence had been able to get help.

and her peers Mary and Diana noticed her personality change.Florence was

a wonderful person, mother and great singer.Sometimes we need to look deeper

into the lives of these great singers to understand the abuse they went

through. In those times racial discrimination and women having few resources

or supports working in the music business.They were at the mercy of the

record producers,managers and their peers.They were just teenagers wanting to be

 

singers and new nothing of the industry which in the end would destroy so

many of them be it depression,suicide,drug overdoes,financial ruin.In

those days you sold your soul to survive ,what sad legacy for so many

great singers.Florence Ballard was one of the casualities of the era

but her legacy remains as her fans will never forget her. God bless

Florence for giving us so much in her short life.

  

Florence Ballard | Interview: Being Fired/Replacement/Weight Issues (1975)

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBwsDVUSfAg

  

Found these 2 interviews with the Supremes from 1966.

 

I notice how the Supremes enjoyed Johnny Tillotson singing.

Also when Berry Gordy comes states when he first met the

girls they weren't beautiful at the time. Bad joke and not

funny. Also when Canadian host in 2nd clip jokes about

Florence's weight. It's sad as Florence had always been

picked on about her weight

  

Swinging Time-1966-The Supremes, The Marvellettes and Johnny Tillotson

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYwhk0O_tnE&list=RDXYwhk0O_tn...

 

plus

  

The Supremes, in Toronto for a week of concerts at the O'Keefe Centre, join Luncheon

 

Date host Elwood Glover for a chat. June 21, 1966

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdclAVfAx_k

  

The Supremes, in Toronto for a week of concerts at the O'Keefe Centre, join Luncheon

 

Date host Elwood Glover for a chat.The Supreme sound of Diana Ross, Mary Wilson and

 

Florence Ballard

 

The Story

  

The Supremes, in Toronto for a week of concerts at the O'Keefe Centre, join Luncheon

 

Date host Elwood Glover for a chat. The trio discuss the previous night’s concert,

 

how they got together, Motown Records, and the style of their music, which has

 

switched from 3-part harmony to the new sound of Ballard and Wilson singing back-up

 

to Ross’s lead. They touch on the subject of money – their one-hundred-dollar-a-week

 

allowance, the cost of their gowns, and finally how success has affected their lives.

  

Broadcast Medium:

Television

 

Program:

Luncheon Date

 

Broadcast Date:

June 21, 1966

 

Interviewer:

Elwood Glover

 

Guests:

Diana Ross, Mary Wilson, Florence Ballard

 

Duration:

11:24

  

Did You know?

 

•A newspaper ad for the performances listed matinee seats ranging in cost from $1.50

 

to $3.50, and the evening show tickets cost between $2.00 and $5.50. The other

 

performers on the bill were comedian Red Buttons, 16-year-old Stevie Wonder, and The

 

Wellingtons, a folk-singing group.

•Listen here for a radio interview with 13-year-old "Little Stevie Wonder".

•A 1967 radio interview with lead singer Diana Ross in which she talks about the

 

departure of Florence Ballard can be heard here.

•Diana Ross was born March 26, 1944, Mary Wilson March 6, 1944, and Florence Ballard,

 

June 30, 1943. Ballard died of a heart attack on Feb. 22, 1976.

  

Florence Ballard Biography

  

Florence Glenda Chapman (née Ballard; June 30, 1943 – February 22, 1976) was an

 

American singer. Ballard was a founding member of the popular Motown vocal female

 

group the Supremes. Ballard sang on 16 top 40 singles with the group, including ten

 

number-one hits. After being removed from the Supremes in 1967, Ballard tried an

 

unsuccessful solo career with ABC Records before she was dropped from the label at

 

the end of the decade. Ballard struggled with alcoholism, depression, and poverty for

 

three years. She was making an attempt for a musical comeback when she died of a

 

heart attack in February 1976 at the age of 32.[1] Ballard's death was considered by

 

one critic as "one of rock's greatest tragedies".[2] Ballard was posthumously

 

inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Supremes in 1988.

  

Contents

1Early life

2Career

2.1The Supremes

2.2Exit from the Supremes and solo career

2.3Decline

2.4Comeback

3Death

4Legacy

5Personal life

6Discography

6.1Album

6.2Singles

7References

8External links

 

Early life

 

Florence Glenda Ballard was born in Detroit, Michigan on June 30, 1943 to Lurlee (née

 

Wilson) and Jesse Ballard, as the eighth[3][4] of thirteen children or ninth of

 

fifteen children.[5][6][7][8] Her siblings were Bertie, Cornell, Jesse, Jr., Gilbert,

 

Geraldine, Barbara, Maxine, Billy, Calvin, Pat, Linda and Roy.[9][10] Her mother was

 

a resident of Rosetta, Mississippi.[10] Her father was born Jesse Lambert in

 

Bessemer, Alabama; [10] after his grandmother was shot and killed, he was adopted by

 

the Ballard family.[10] Jesse Ballard left his adoptive parents at 13, and soon

 

engaged in an affair with Ballard's mother, who was only 14, in Rosetta.[11] The

 

Ballards moved to Detroit in 1929.[12] Jesse soon worked at General Motors.[9][13]

 

[9][11] Jesse, an amateur musician, helped instigate Florence's interest in singing;

 

he taught her various songs and accompanied her on guitar. Financial difficulties

 

forced the Ballard family to move to different Detroit neighborhoods; by the time

 

Florence turned 15 they had settled at Detroit's Brewster-Douglass housing projects,

 

and the next year Jesse Lambert Ballard died of cancer.[14]

 

Named "Blondie" and "Flo" by family and friends, Ballard attended Northeastern High

 

School and was coached vocally by Abraham Silver. Ballard met future singing partner

 

Mary Wilson during a middle-school talent show and they became friends while

 

attending Northeastern High. From an early age, Ballard aspired to be a singer and

 

agreed to audition for a spot on a sister group of the local Detroit attraction, the

 

Primes, who were managed by Milton Jenkins. After she was accepted, Ballard recruited

 

Mary Wilson to join Jenkins' group.[15] Wilson, in turn, enlisted another neighbor,

 

Diana Ross, then going by "Diane".[16] Betty McGlown completed the original lineup

 

and Jenkins named them as "The Primettes". The group performed at talent showcases

 

and at school parties before auditioning for Motown Records in 1960.[17] Berry Gordy,

 

head of Motown, advised the group to graduate from high school before auditioning

 

again.[18] Ballard eventually dropped out of high school though her groupmates

 

graduated.[19]

 

In 1960, Ballard was raped at knifepoint by local high-school basketball player

 

Reggie Harding after leaving a sock hop at Detroit's Graystone Ballroom (she had

 

attended with her brother, but they accidentally lost track of each other).[20] The

 

rape occurred in an empty parking lot off Woodward Avenue. Ballard responded by

 

secluding herself in her house refusing to come outside, which worried her

 

groupmates. Weeks later, Ballard told Wilson and Ross what had happened. Though Ross

 

and Wilson were sympathetic, they were also confused because Ballard was considered

 

to be strong-willed and unflappable. Both Wilson and Jesse Green, an early boyfriend

 

of Florence's, had described her as a "generally happy if somewhat mischievous and

 

sassy teenager." Wilson believes that the incident heavily contributed to the more

 

self-destructive aspects of Ballard's adult personality, like cynicism, pessimism,

 

and fear or distrust of others,[21] but the rape was never mentioned again.[22]

 

Career

The Supremes

Main article: The Supremes

 

In 1994, the Supremes were recognized with a star on Hollywood Walk of Fame at 7060

 

Hollywood Blvd.

Later in 1960, the Primettes signed a contract with Lu Pine Records, issuing two

 

songs that failed to perform well. During that year, they kept pursuing a Motown

 

contract and agreed to do anything that was required, including adding handclaps and

 

vocal backgrounds.[23][24] By the end of the year, Berry Gordy agreed to have the

 

group record songs in the studio.[25] In January 1961, Gordy agreed to sign them on

 

the condition they change their name. Janie Bradford approached Ballard with a list

 

of names to choose from before Ballard chose "Supremes".[26] When the other members

 

heard of the new name, they were not pleased. Diana Ross feared they would be

 

mistaken for a male vocal group. Eventually Gordy agreed to sign them under that name

 

on January 15, 1961.[27]

 

The group struggled in their early years with the label, releasing eight singles that

 

failed to crack the Billboard Hot 100, giving them the nickname "no-hit Supremes".

 

One track, "Buttered Popcorn", led by Ballard, was a regional hit in the Midwest, but

 

still failed to chart. During a 1962 Motortown Revue tour, Ballard briefly replaced

 

the Marvelettes' Wanda Young while she was on maternity leave. Before the release of

 

their 1962 debut album, Meet the Supremes, Barbara Martin, who had replaced Betty

 

McGlown a year before they signed to Motown, left the group. Ballard, Ross and Wilson

 

remained a trio. After the hit success of 1963's "When the Love Light Starts Shining

 

Through His Eyes", Diana Ross became the group's lead singer.[28]

 

In the spring of 1964, the group released "Where Did Our Love Go", which became their

 

first number-one hit on the Billboard Hot 100, paving the way for ten number-one hits

 

recorded by Ross, Ballard and Wilson between 1964 and 1967. After many rehearsals

 

with Cholly Atkins and Maurice King, the Supremes' live shows improved dramatically

 

as well. During this time, Ballard sang lead on several songs on Supremes' albums,

 

including a cover of Sam Cooke's "(Ain't That) Good News". During live shows, Ballard

 

often performed the Barbra Streisand standard, "People". According to Mary Wilson,

 

Ballard's vocals were so loud she was made to stand 17 feet away from her microphone

 

during recording sessions.[29] Marvin Gaye, for whom Ballard sang backing vocals on

 

occasion, described her as "a hell of a singer, probably the strongest of the three

 

girls."[30] All in all, Ballard contributed vocals to ten number-one pop hits and 16

 

top forty hit singles between 1963 and 1967.

 

Exit from the Supremes and solo career

Ballard expressed dissatisfaction with the group's direction throughout its

 

successful period. She would also claim that their schedule had forced the group

 

members to drift apart.[31] Ballard blamed Motown Records for destroying the group

 

dynamic by making Diana Ross the star.[31] Struggling to cope with label demands and

 

her own bout with depression, Ballard turned to alcohol for comfort, leading to

 

arguments with her group members.[31] Ballard's alcoholism led to her missing

 

performances and recording sessions. Gordy sometimes replaced Ballard on stage with

 

the Andantes' Marlene Barrow. In April 1967, Cindy Birdsong, member of Patti LaBelle

 

and the Blue Belles, became a stand-in for Ballard. A month later, Ballard returned

 

to the group from what she thought was a temporary leave of absence. In June, Gordy

 

changed the group's name to "The Supremes with Diana Ross", which was how they were

 

billed on the marquee of Las Vegas' Flamingo Hotel.

 

On July 1, the day after her 24th birthday, Ballard showed up inebriated during the

 

group's third performance at the Flamingo and stuck her stomach out from her suit.

 

Angered, Gordy ordered her to return to Detroit, and Birdsong officially replaced

 

her, abruptly ending her tenure with the Supremes.[32] It had been decided as early

 

as May that Birdsong would be Ballard's official replacement once Birdsong's contract

 

with the Bluebelles was bought out.[33] In August 1967, the Detroit Free Press

 

reported that Ballard had taken a temporary leave of absence from the group due to

 

"exhaustion". Ballard eventually married her boyfriend, Thomas Chapman, on February

 

29, 1968. A week earlier, on February 22, Ballard and Motown negotiated to have

 

Ballard released from the label. Her attorney in the matter received a one-time

 

payment of $139,804.94 in royalties and earnings from Motown. As part of the

 

settlement, Ballard was advised to not promote her solo work as a former member of

 

the Supremes. In March 1968, Ballard signed with ABC Records and released two

 

unsuccessful singles. After an album for the label was shelved, her settlement money

 

was depleted from the Chapmans' management agency, Talent Management, Inc. The agency

 

had been led by Leonard Baun, Ballard's attorney who had helped to settle Ballard's

 

matters with Motown. Following news that Baun was facing multiple embezzlement

 

charges, Ballard fired him. She continued to perform as a solo artist, opening for

 

Bill Cosby that September at Chicago's Auditorium Theater. In January 1969, Ballard

 

performed at one of newly elected President Richard Nixon's inaugural balls. Ballard

 

was dropped from ABC in 1970.

 

Decline

In July 1971, Ballard sued Motown for additional royalty payments she believed she

 

was due to receive; she was defeated in court by Motown.[34] Shortly afterwards,

 

Ballard and her husband separated following several domestic disputes and Ballard's

 

home was foreclosed. Facing poverty and depression, Ballard became an alcoholic and

 

shied away from the spotlight. In 1972, she moved into her sister Maxine's house. In

 

1974 Mary Wilson invited Ballard to join the Supremes, which now included Cindy

 

Birdsong and Scherrie Payne (Ross had left for her successful solo career in 1970).

 

Though Ballard played tambourine, she didn't sing and told Wilson she had no ambition

 

to sing any more. Later that year Ballard's plight started to be reported in

 

newspapers as word got around that the singer had applied for welfare. Around that

 

time, Ballard entered Henry Ford Hospital for rehab treatment. Following six weeks of

 

treatment, Ballard slowly started to recover.

 

Comeback

In early 1975, Ballard received an insurance settlement from her former attorney's

 

insurance company. The settlement money helped her buy a house on Shaftsbury Avenue.

 

Inspired by the financial success, Ballard decided to return to singing and also

 

reconciled with Chapman. Ballard's first concert performance in more than five years

 

took place at the Henry and Edsel Ford Auditorium in Detroit on June 25, 1975.

 

Ballard performed as part of the Joan Little Defense League and was backed by female

 

rock group the Deadly Nightshade. Afterward she started receiving offers for

 

interviews; Jet magazine was one of the first to report on Ballard and her recovery.

 

Death

On February 21, 1976, Ballard entered Mt. Carmel Mercy Hospital, complaining of

 

numbness in her extremities. She died at 10:05 the next morning from cardiac arrest

 

[35] caused by a coronary thrombosis (a blood clot in one of her coronary arteries),

 

[36] at the age of 32.[36] Ballard is buried in Detroit Memorial Park Cemetery

 

located in Warren, Michigan.

 

Legacy

Florence Ballard's story has been referenced in a number of works by other artists.

 

The 1980 song "Romeo's Tune", from Steve Forbert's album Jackrabbit Slim is

 

"dedicated to the memory of Florence Ballard". The Billy Bragg song "King James

 

Version" on his William Bloke album contains the line "Remember the sadness in

 

Florence Ballard's eyes". On his 2006 album Hip Hop is Dead, hip-hop artist Nas

 

mentions the Ballard/Ross rivalry in his song "Blunt Ashes": "When Flo from the

 

Supremes died/Diana Ross cried/Many people said that she was laughing inside." In his

 

short story "You Know They Got a Hell of a Band", Stephen King, through the late disc

 

jockey Alan Freed, includes Ballard as one of the deceased artists who performs in a

 

town called "Rock and Roll Heaven".

 

Dreamgirls, a 1981 Broadway musical, chronicles a fictional group called "The

 

Dreams," and a number of plot components parallel events in the Supremes' career.[37]

 

The central character of Effie White, like Florence Ballard, is criticized for being

 

overweight, and is fired from the group. The film version of Dreamgirls released in

 

2006 features more overt references to Ballard's life and the Supremes' story,

 

including gowns and album covers that are direct copies of Supremes originals.

 

Jennifer Hudson won a Golden Globe Award and Academy Award for her portrayal of Effie

 

White in the Dreamgirls film. In her Golden Globe acceptance speech, Hudson dedicated

 

her win to Florence Ballard.[38] The music video for the Diana Ross song "Missing

 

You" pays tribute to Marvin Gaye, Ballard, and Paul Williams, all former Motown

 

artists who had died. In 1988, Ballard was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

 

as a member of the Supremes alongside Diana Ross and Mary Wilson.

 

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Florence Ballard among hundreds

 

of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.[39]

 

Personal life

Ballard began dating Thomas Chapman, a Motown Records chauffeur, in 1967; they

 

married in a private celebration in Hawaii on February 29, 1968, and had three

 

daughters: Michelle Denise and Nichole Rene[40] and Lisa Sabrina (b. 1971). Ballard

 

reportedly had several domestic disputes with her husband and filed for divorce in

 

1973, but they reconciled in late 1975, prior to her death. Besides her three

 

daughters, Ballard's family included her cousin, rhythm and blues singer and

 

songwriter Hank Ballard, and his grandnephew, NFL player Christian Ballard; she was

 

also an aunt of the Detroit electronic musician Omar-S.[41]

  

Taken during the winter of 1966-7, I remember capturing this photograph as if it were yesterday. My father had promised me the use of his trusty Rolleiflex and my mum, brother and I trooped off around the 'Manor', looking for a shot.

In the far distance, the roof of Northfield Manor House can just be glimpsed. * The building conveniently burnt down a few years ago (2014) to make way for yet more executive housing . If I had turned a few degrees to the right, the Cadbury barn would have come into view, built in 1895 and burnt down in an arson attack in July 2017. The boathouse can be seen in the distant centre of the photograph, and yes, if you're picking up on a pattern....

Those of you who want to get ahead of the game and find out what might mysteriously burn down next, can look at the comments on b31.org.uk/2020/11/last-chance-to-comment-on-king-george-...

(esp. the comment from Zola and I quote ...'Call me a cynic, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a “mysterious fire” should burn the place down, thus making any future planning app an easier process.

Obviously the “mysterious fire” events for “awkward” planning applications at the Cock Inn pub and North Worcester golf club house have absolutely no bearing on my cynicism'.)

 

In the early 1960s, the Birmingham Parks Police** had offices and kennels (they kept about eight to ten dogs, mostly alsatians and I think the odd doberman and rottweiler ) next to the barn. The 'Parkies' were for the most part, vigilant, friendly, and approachable, unlike their canine charges, a couple of which were just surly, the rest extremely vicious. I'm not sure how the dogs were recruited, but I am sure it wasn't from a petting corner.

The upshot was that the 'Parkies' kept the Parks safe, clean and tidy, as very few failed to heed the warning 'you get one more chance to clear off or I'm going to let the dog off the leash' .I know the ''ealth-and-safety' and social worker brigade will be aghast, but it worked.

Info on the barn here; www.birminghamconservationtrust.org/2017/08/07/the-cadbur...

 

Info on the Manor House here;

b31.org.uk/2010/11/northfield-manor-house-ever-heard-of-it/

and here;

b31.org.uk/2016/10/local-history-looking-back-at-northfie...

 

A history of the Park can be found here;

www.friendsofmanorfarmpark.org.uk/fomfp/index.php/history

 

* The Manor House Hall of Residence was used as a filming location for an episode of the BBC TV crime drama 'Dalziel and Pascoe', appearing as 'Holm Coltram University' in Season 1 Episode 2, 'An Advancement of Learning', first broadcast 23 March 1996

 

** Birmingham Parks Police was a small police force maintained by Birmingham Corporation to police the parks and open spaces of Birmingham, United Kingdom. Formed in 1912 and disbanded in the Sixties.

Scientists have discovered that the small brave act of cooperating with another person, of choosing trust over cynicism, generosity over selfishness, makes the brain light up with quiet joy.

— Natalie Angier

George Rutherford: Mapping Epidemics, Defining Public Health

 

Dr. George Rutherford sits at his desk, surrounded by the artifacts of a life devoted to global public health—books stacked in teetering towers, old epidemiological maps, globes with well-worn latitudes, and photographs chronicling decades of disease response. His office in Piedmont, where I photographed him on May 4, 2021, felt like a command center of knowledge, an apt setting for a man who has spent his career at the forefront of epidemics, from HIV to COVID-19.

 

It was the height of the pandemic, and much of our conversation revolved around the crisis at hand—UCSF’s response, the evolving science, and the challenge of communicating uncertainty to a world desperate for answers. Rutherford, a professor of epidemiology and biostatistics at the University of California, San Francisco, had become one of the leading voices of reason during the pandemic, providing clear-eyed analysis in a time of confusion.

 

His path to public health was not linear but shaped by a restless intellect and an instinct for where he could do the most good. Trained initially as a pediatrician, Rutherford found himself drawn to epidemiology—the study of how diseases move through populations, how patterns emerge, and how outbreaks can be stopped before they spiral into catastrophe. He worked with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the World Health Organization, and a host of other public health institutions, always placing himself at the nexus of policy and science, where decisions must be made quickly and lives hang in the balance.

 

In the 1980s and 1990s, as the HIV/AIDS epidemic devastated communities, Rutherford played a pivotal role in shaping public health responses. His work at the San Francisco Department of Public Health helped establish critical interventions, from early testing initiatives to harm reduction strategies that would later become global models. Unlike some scientists who remain in the abstract, Rutherford was always on the ground, always in the fray, deeply engaged with the real-world impact of his work.

  

When COVID-19 arrived, he was uniquely positioned to provide both historical context and real-time guidance. His ability to translate complex epidemiological data into actionable public health advice made him an essential figure in California’s response. He was a frequent presence in the media, offering a steady voice amid the noise, often reminding the public that pandemics are not just biological events but social ones—that the way we respond to a crisis is as important as the virus itself.

 

Our conversation that day in Piedmont drifted across time zones and epidemics, touching on smallpox eradication efforts, tuberculosis control in sub-Saharan Africa, and the decades-long fight against malaria. His perspective is vast, drawn from years of experience in international public health, and yet he is not weighed down by cynicism. If anything, there is an optimism that runs through his work—an unshakable belief that science, if communicated well and applied correctly, can turn the tide of even the most daunting outbreaks.

 

The books in his office, some dating back to the earliest days of epidemiology, are reminders that this work is both ancient and ever-evolving. The globes reflect the scale of his concerns—pandemics do not recognize borders, and neither does public health. And the photographs, many of them taken in field hospitals and conference halls, tell the story of a career spent in service of a singular mission: to understand how disease spreads and to stop it before it takes too many lives.

 

Rutherford remains a professor, a mentor, and an advocate for evidence-based public health. His presence at UCSF is a reminder that science is not just about discovery but about responsibility—to educate, to inform, and to act. And as we sat in his office that day, in the midst of a once-in-a-century pandemic, it was clear that he was exactly where he needed to be—translating knowledge into action, as he has always done.

This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can.

 

-President-Elect Barack Obama

Day 4 of Lockdown seriously ya know things are bad when ya underwear stops flexing, Last night in the U K a completely spontaneous round of applause was held to thank the awesome doctors and nurses for all they do for us its was stunning and emotional and thoroughly deserved I myself applauded so hard my hands are bright red , I have never seen em that red since as a teenage boy I went ad saw the opening of who framed roger rabbit growls Jessica rabbit what a woman. And I know the round of applause was spontaneous cos it said so on the e mail we got. .

 

Here there is a search on for so called patient 0 , the first person to bring the virus here I suspect we have as much chance of knowing that as a child social worker has of getting an Honest answer in the Vatican.

 

I note with cynicism the rise of the religious loony claiming its gods plague . Well then all I can say is god has let his standards drop . In the last plague it was locusts that destroyed Egypt and turned Charlton Heston into Moses and the Red sea was parted that's a serious effort Now its no toilet rolls and tinned food finding the promised land including apparently a shortage of beans so leads one to conclude that either God has turned into a student on there first year or He simply cant be arsed and is sat on this throne laughing at episodes of the Witcher and waiting for Jesus to deliver the mother of all Easter eggs ,

 

like a Chinese baby at a klu Klux clan meeting guess we will never know

 

Peace and love

Atop each tower of this grand building stands a mythical Liver Bird. Designed by Carl Bernard Bartels.

Popular legend has it that while one giant bird looks out over the city to protect its people, the other bird looks out to sea at the new sailors coming in to port. Alternatively, local legend states one Liver Bird is male, looking inland to see if the pubs are open, whilst the other is female, looking out to sea to see if there are any handsome sailors coming up the river. Yet another local legend, reflecting Liverpudlians' cynicism, avers that every time a virgin walks across the Pier Head, the Liver Birds flap their wings. It is also said that, if one of the birds were to fly away the city of Liverpool would cease to exist, thus adding to the mystery of the birds. As a result, both birds are chained to the domes upon which they stand

 

Wikipedia History

 

The Liver bird is the symbol of the city of Liverpool, England. The use of a bird to represent the city dates to the medieval era, but the idea that the "liver bird" is a mythical creature specific to Liverpool evolved in the 20th century. The bird is normally represented in the form of a cormorant holding a branch of laver in its mouth, and appears as such on Liverpool's coat of arms.

62nd summer has come to NAGASAKI, my beloved birthplace, since it experienced the tragedy of atomic bomb. it's been a long time since i moved far away from nagasaki, and i am not usually much into "love and peace" things. but 9th of August has been still a kind of very special day for me, and i silently close my eyes at 11:02 am on this day.

 

'No War! No Atomic Bombs! Peace to the World!' ... i wouldn't disagree with that. however, when i hear such beautiful message, i often find myself feeling somehow uncomfortable or at least insufficient, and sometimes i even struggle to avoid the warm smiles of "blind pacifists".

 

my granma lost her daughter because of the bomb, and she bore my father 3 years after the war. probably, without the bomb, she shouldn't have lost her daughter, and my father would have been born on another timing. then her family should have achieved another shape of happiness, and they would have appreciated another grandchildren.

 

and definitely i must have been absent in this world, but another someone would be enjoying a different type of life.

 

i often regret that Nagasaki would have much more prospered without the bomb. but even though i imagine such peaceful nagasaki, i would not be able to exist in that imaginary.

 

yes, i couldn't have been born without the bomb.

those evil bombs made me exist.

ah, what a big sin of human-being i am living on!

 

i think that is where my strange cynicism comes from, and that is why i sometime struggle to avoid some "blind pacifists".

Dutch postcard by Filmmuseum, Amsterdam. Photo: Filmmuseum. Poster for Menschen am Sonntag/People on Sunday (Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, 1930) for which Billy Wilder contributed to the story.

 

Billy Wilder (1906-2002) was an American filmmaker of Jewish descent. He was a multiple Oscar winner and is considered one of the most important directors in American film history. His oeuvre comprises more than 60 films made over a period of over 50 years. He was nominated for an Oscar 21 times as a writer, producer and director and won six awards. At the 1961 Oscars, he won three awards as producer, screenwriter and director for the film The Apartment, a feat that has only been achieved by a total of nine directors to date.

 

Samuel 'Billy' Wilder was born in 1906 in Sucha, Austria-Hungary often referred to as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Samuel was the son of Jewish parents, Max and Eugenia Wilder. His father Max Wilder ran the "City" hotel in Krakow as well as several railway station restaurants in the area. His mother always called her son "Billie". Samuel, therefore, called himself Billie Wilder. Later in the USA, he changed the spelling to Billy. In 1916, during the First World War, the family moved to Vienna fearing the approaching Russian army. In the capital, Billie became close friends with the later Hollywood director Fred Zinnemann, and they kept in touch throughout his life. Wilder began his career as a reporter for the Viennese tabloid Die Stunde (The Hour). When he interviewed the jazz musician Paul Whiteman in 1926, the latter was so enthusiastic about him that he invited him to come with him to Berlin to show him the city. A week later it turned out that Die Stunde was blackmailing Viennese businessmen and celebrities at the time with the threat of publishing unflattering articles about them. The affair became the biggest media scandal of the First Republic in Austria and Wilder decided to stay in Berlin and work for another newspaper, the city's largest tabloid. There he came in contact with the film industry. German Wikipedia: "when the director of a film company, Maxim Galitzenstein, had to escape in his pants from the neighbour's bedroom to Wilder's room, he couldn't help but buy Wilder's first screenplay." Billie was hired as a ghostwriter for well-known screenwriters such as Robert Liebmann and Franz Schulz. It was an additional source of income alongside his work as a reporter. In 1929, he contributed with Curt Siodmak, Robert Siodmak, Fred Zinnemann and Edgar G. Ulmer to the classic film Menschen am Sonntag/People on Sunday (Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, 1930). The film follows a group of young residents of Berlin on a summer's day during the interwar period. Hailed as a work of genius, it is a pivotal film in the development of German cinema. Together with Erich Kästner, Billie wrote the screenplay for Emil und die Detektive/Emil and the Detectives (Gerhard Lamprecht, 1931) the first film adaptation of Kästner's novel and generally considered to be the best film version. Wilder realised his Jewish ancestry would cause problems when the National Socialists would seize power. Immediately after Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, Wilder moved to France. Years later, he would learn that his entire family had perished in concentration camps. In Paris, Billie earned his living as a ghostwriter for French screenwriters. Here he also directed his first film, the crime drama Mauvaise graine/Bad Seed (Billie Wilder, Alexander Esway, 1934) with Danielle Darrieux.

 

In 1934 Billie Wilder was able to enter the United States, thanks to a visitor's visa granted by Joe May. Although he spoke no English when he arrived in Hollywood, Wilder was a fast learner. Thanks to contacts such as Peter Lorre, with whom he shared an apartment. After his emigration, he became a naturalised American named Billy. He was signed by Paramount Pictures in 1936. His partnership with Charles Brackett started in 1938 and the team was responsible for writing some of Hollywood's classic comedies, including Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch, 1939) starring Greta Garbo and Ball of Fire (Howard Hawks, 1941) with Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper. However, Wilder was dissatisfied with the constant changes to his scripts and wanted to take the reins himself. His partnership with Brackett expanded into a producer-director one in 1942. The comedy The Major and the Minor (1942) with Ginger Rogers was the first film he directed. His second film, Five Graves to Cairo (1943) with Franchot Tone, served as a propaganda film against the Nazi regime during World War II. Wilder quickly garnered success as a director. He had his breakthrough with the Film Noir Double Indemnity (1944), starring Fred McMurray and Barbara Stanwyck as a femme fatale. The film received seven Oscar nominations, including two for Wilder in the categories of Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. In 1945, Wilder was commissioned by the U.S. Army Signal Corps to condense the extensive material available from the American and British military about, among other things, the liberation of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp into a short film, Death Mills/Die Todesmühlen (1945). The film was intended for German audiences to educate them about the atrocities committed by the Nazi regime. It became the only documentary film under his supervision. Not having seen his mother and stepfather since he went to Berlin in 1933 to make films, he joined American patrols through war-torn Europe during WWII. Through intense research, he learned they had been murdered in concentration camps and his grandmother had died in a Polish ghetto. Later, he usually declined to discuss this.

 

Billy Wilder received his first Oscar for the drama The Lost Weekend (1945), starring Ray Milland as an unsuccessful author with a drinking problem. The film dealt unusually realistically with the problems of an alcoholic. Shortly afterwards, Wilder went to Germany on behalf of the American government with the rank of colonel and directed the film A Foreign Affair (1948), starring Jean Arthur and Marlene Dietrich, which dealt critically with the Nazi past in occupied Germany. Among his other classics are the drama Sunset Boulevard (1950) starring William Holden and Gloria Swanson, the romance Sabrina (1954) starring Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart, and the comedies The Seven Years Itch (1955) and Some Like It Hot (1959), both starring Marilyn Monroe. He later had a long-standing partnership with screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond with whom he made such classic comedies as The Apartment (1961) and Irma La Douce (1963), both with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. His work is characterised by cynicism, humour and an original storyline. He was fascinated by a wide variety of subjects and he often used the same actors, such as Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau. Wilder's later works were unable to match the success of his heyday. Although he lost some of his brilliance as a filmmaker later in his life, many of his films are still considered classics. From the mid-1980s, he limited himself to consulting work for United Artists. In 2002, Billy Wilder died of pneumonia in Los Angeles, California at the age of 95. He had been struggling with health problems for some time, but still gave interviews. His grave is in Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery. Wilder was married to Judith Coppicus-Iribe from 1936 to 1947. They had a daughter together, Victoria (1939). In 1949 Wilder married the actress and singer Audrey Young (1922-2012).

 

Sources: Michael Brooke (IMDb), Wikipedia (Dutch and German) and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Rome, unique perspectives...

Explore Aug 1, 2012 #170

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“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” by Mahatma Gandhi

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“Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.” by Mahatma Gandhi

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“In the end we shall have had enough of cynicism, skepticism and humbug, and we shall want to live more musically.” by Vincent van Gogh

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“Mathematics expresses values that reflect the cosmos, including orderliness, balance, harmony, logic, and abstract beauty.” by Deepak Chopra

  

3rd March, 2008 | 63/366

 

Too many people I know are concerned with the negative aspects of things. Too much cynicism, pessimism and negativity isn't good for anyone. So I pose a question: when was the last time you enjoyed yourself?

Recently, a friend of mine, a veteran of these wars said to me, "you don't live in the real world, man...none of you do." I was taken back by it, I wasn't sure if it was the grief talking, cynicism, or anger. But it shook me, because I think he's right. To him and the rest of you serving, or set to serve, today I salute you...but I honor you always. I'm proud to know each and every one of you. Nov.11th, 2010

Successive layers of PVA medium and acrylic paints. When dry it peels away from the 'lid' like a flexible skin. I value abstract works like this (while remaining uncertain of how much 'conscious' credit I can take for them) not least for all the things they suggest on closer examination. In this instance, for me, there is a partial self-portrait and countless suggestive silhouettes triggering nostalgic memories and inspiring creative tangents I look forward to exploring further soon.

 

For more of my art, verse, constructive cynicism, surreal vignettes and humour and relentless artistic assaults on aspects of contemporary culture that I find most repulsive, please visit my blog, Narolc's World:

 

www.narolc.blogspot.com

German postcard by Rotophot in the Film Sterne series. Photo: Becker & Maass. Collection: Didier Hanson.

 

Expressionistic dancer and film actress Anita Berber (1899–1928) challenged many taboos during the Weimar period. With her drug and booze addiction and her bisexual affairs, she epitomized the decadence of 1920s Berlin. Her charcoaled eyes, her black lipstick and bright red, bobbed hair were featured on a famous portrait of her by Otto Dix and in silent films by Richard Oswald and Fritz Lang.

 

Anita Berber was born in Leipzig (some sources say Dresden), Imperial Germany in 1899. She was the daughter of Felix Berber, a classical violinist and his wife Lucie Berber, a cabaret singer. Her parents divorced two years later and Anita was raised mainly by her grandmother in Dresden. In her teens, she studied dance under founder of rhythmic gymnastics Emile Jacques-Dalcroze and ballet teacher and film actress Rita Sacchetto. By the age of 16, she made her debut as a cabaret dancer in Berlin, and began modelling for the women's magazines Die Dame and Elegante Welte. Between 1918 and 1925, she appeared in more than 20 silent films. She often worked for director Richard Oswald. Their films included the Aufklärungsfilm (sex education film) Die Prostitution, 1. Teil - Das gelbe Haus/Prostitution (Richard Oswald, 1919), the adventure comedy Die Reise um die Erde in 80 Tagen/Around the World in Eighty Days (Richard Oswald, 1919) with rising-star Conrad Veidt as Phileas Fogg, the fantasy thriller Unheimliche Geschichten/Sinister Tales (Richard Oswald, 1919), the horror film Nachtgestalten/Figures of the Night (Richard Oswald, 1920) starring Paul Wegener, and the drama Lucrezia Borgia (Richard Oswald, 1922) starring Liane Haid. Alongside Conrad Veidt, she also appeared as Else in the ground-breaking, gay-themed film Anders als die Anderen/Different From The Others (Richard Oswald, 1919), co-written by Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld. Berber had a minor but significant role in Fritz Lang's Dr. Mabuse, der Spieler - Ein Bild der Zeit/Dr. Mabuse – The Gambler (Fritz Lang, 1922) featuring Rudolph Klein-Rogge as the arch-criminal. Berber also appeared in the horror film Der Graf von Cagliostro/The Count of Cagliostro (Reinhold Schünzel, 1920), Wien, du Stadt der Lieder/Vienna, City of Song (Alfred Deutsch-German, 1923) and finally in Ein Walzer von Strauß/A Strauss Waltz (Max Neufeld, 1925).

 

Anita Berber began dancing nude in 1919. Scandalously androgynous, she quickly made a name for herself. She wore heavy dancer's make-up, which on the black-and-white photos and films of the time came across as jet black lipstick painted across the heart-shaped part of her skinny lips, and charcoaled eyes. She had cut her auburn hair fashionably into a short bob as can be seen on Otto Dix’ iconic painting ‘The Dancer Anita Berber’ (1925). Her dance partner was the expressionist poet Sebastian Droste, who also became her second husband. He was skinny and had black hair with gelled up curls much like sideburns. During their dances, neither of them wore much more than low slung loincloths and Anita occasionally a corsage worn well below her small breasts. They performed fantasias with titles such as Suicide, Morphium, and Mad House. In 1923, they published a book of poetry, photographs, and drawings called Die Tänze des Lasters, des Grauens und der Ekstase (Dances of Vice, Horror, and Ecstasy), based on their performance of the same name. Full of Expressionist imagery, the book offers a glimpse into the angst and cynicism shadowing their artistic and personal existences. Ruth M. Perris at lghbtq.com: “She brought flamboyant eroticism, exotic costuming, and grotesque imagery to performances danced to the music of composers such as Debussy, Strauss, Delibes, and Saint-Säens. A pioneer of modern expressive dance, Berber was at first taken seriously as an artist, but soon became better known for her scandalous personal and professional life.”

 

Anita Berber married three times. Her first husband was the wealthy young screenwriter Eberhard von Nathusius. After their divorce, she dated a string of beautiful women, including, allegedly, the young Marlene Dietrich. Stylish bar-owner Susi Wanowski became her lover, manager and secretary. Her second marriage to Sebastian Droste ended in 1923. The following year, she married American dancer Henri Chatin-Hoffman, rumoured to be gay. She toured Europe with him, continually generating tabloid reports of lesbianism, drug use, and hotel orgies. After a tour of The Netherlands in 1926, Berber collapsed physically and sought refuge with Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld. She was addicted to cocaine, opium and morphine. According to Wikipedia, “one of Berber's favourites was chloroform and ether mixed in a bowl. This would be stirred with a white rose, the petals of which she would then eat.” Aside from her addiction to narcotic drugs, she was also a heavy alcoholic. In 1928, at the age of 29, Anita Berber suddenly gave up alcohol completely. According to Mel Gordon, in ‘The Seven Addictions and Five Professions of Anita Berber: Weimar Berlin's Priestess of Debauchery’, she was diagnosed with severe tuberculosis while performing in nightclubs in Greece and the Middle East. After collapsing during a performance in Damascus, she returned to Germany and died in a Kreuzberg hospital in November 1928. She was only 29. She was said to be surrounded by empty morphine syringes, and was buried in a pauper's grave in St. Thomas Cemetery in Neukölln. Rosa von Praunheim’s film Anita - Tänze des Lasters (1987) centres around the life of Anita Berber. In 1991, the Deutsche Post used the Otto Dix painting of Anita on one of its stamps.

 

Sources: Mel Gordon (The Seven Addictions and Five Professions of Anita Berber: Weimar Berlin's Priestess of Debauchery), Ruth M. Pettis (glbtq.com), James Conway (Strange Flowers), Cabaret Berlin, Wikipedia and IMDb.

whether secretly or openly.

There really is no denying it.....

 

we all want our happy ending.

The story of 47299 is like an episode of "The X-Files", albeit a really dull one... In 1981, a psychic contacted British Rail, claiming they had forseen a fatal accident featuring a 47216. Presumably, after much high level discussion (and maybe a certain amount of cynicism) the locomotive 47216 was renumbered to 47299. And then 47299 was involved in an accident at Wrawby Junction. One person died... If 47299 was blessed with supernatural powers, however, they did it little good when it arrived at Wigan Component Recovery and Distribution Centre, as they scrapped it. It is seen here on Christmas Day 1999 during it's dismemberment.

Contacts' uploads thingie broken. Dayum. Hope you catch this review though.

 

Swooooooooon... Mr. Darcy! (But a serious review follows.)

 

#18 (2008)

Jane Austen

Pride & Prejudice

First published: 1813

This edition: Penguin Classics, 1996, 312 pages

Cover art: Abbey Gate, Reading by Paul Sandby

Other books by same author that I have read (I will add this from now on in every review): Emma, Sense & Sensibility

 

My first of many times reading “Pride & Prejudice” began on the airplane on the way to South Dakota, where seventeen year-old me was going to spend a year as an exchange student. Subsequently, I’ve read it again about once every two years. For my reading & reviewing series, I felt this book could not be left out, so I happily re-read it once more.

 

Mrs. Bennett is fretting terribly; not yet one of her five daughters has married so far. A social and financial death sentence in the time of Jane Austen’s novels, and disastrous for the five Bennett girls as their male cousin is set to inherit everything in the future event of Mr. Bennett’s passing. With the arrival of Mr. Bingley and his party, however, there is the arrival of hope for the nervous Mrs. Bennett: Mr. Bingley equals money, and he has his eyes on the eldest Bennett daughter, Jane.

Second eldest daughter Elizabeth (Lizzy) observes these social coupling rituals with cynicism and humor. But when Bingley’s friend Mr. Darcy (known to be one of the most handsome and wealthiest bachelors in the area) makes an appearance in everyone’s lives, she finds his pride and lack of social skills to be anything but amusing. Mr. Darcy at the same time is not exactly charmed by Elizabeth Bennett, either.

...or is he?

 

There are so many points to address, but I have to keep it somewhat concise.

 

P&P, I feel, is the ultimate love story (apart from maybe “Jane Eyre”) with a formula often borrowed by the romance novels of our time. By chick lit. An obvious example would be “Bridget Jones’s Diary”. While some are definitely funny, none have been able to outdo P&P.

 

Austen’s characters are strong, developed, and flawed. Not flawed as in “clumsily tripping over her own feet while smiling adorably”, the type of endearing characteristic we as a society seem to like in our leading ladies these days. Austen’s Lizzy and Darcy are slightly more... intelligently introduced, their imperfections more human and challenging. Both Lizzy and Darcy have their own pride and prejudice regarding each other, leading to misunderstandings and broken hearts.

 

Not all of P&P’s characters are as admirably developed though; I’ve always found Jane to be horribly dull and far too naive for someone who I’m sure is supposed to be a smart young woman.

 

Lizzy on the other hand is rather feminist for her time. Of course ultimately, this is a book about romance, and love, but it’s on Lizzy’s terms. She will not give away her own happiness just like that. With a strong backbone reminiscent of Jane Austen’s own persona, Lizzy stands behind her principles in this book and refuses to please society because she "must".

 

P&P thus offers a sort of insiders look into Austen’s time: the differences in class and the rules of society, and conflicts that may arise as a result of these social regulations. There are many obstacles to overcome when in search of happiness, and it is this what makes P&P a novel about love, as well as maturity, responsibility, growth and learning.

 

A healthy dose of each.

 

I would give this book a 10/5 if I could.

 

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

Book review & accompanying photo copyright Karin Elizabeth. Do NOT copy and repost or reproduce the text or photo anywhere without my permission.

Copyright © Karin Elizabeth. All rights reserved. This photo is public only so you ("the public") may view it; it is not to be used as free stock. Use without written consent by the author (that would be me) is illegal and punishable by law; I will take action. This goes for blogging, as well. So, contact me beforehand if you are interested in using this image or any of my others (non-)commercially.

 

Book cover © respective designers/photographers. More in set description.

 

Please, no group images, (admin invites), awards of any kind, sparkly images etc in my comments. I will delete comments when they contain either.

 

Also, being an asshole is not ~cool~ and will only result in blockage.

Week 7 FUR (1031 – 1035) 11/10 – 11/14/2019 ID 1031

 

Kees van Dongen Dutch Delfshaven, Netherlands, - Monaco 1877-1968

 

Woman on a SofaBefore 1920

 

Oil on canvas

 

Van Dongen, Dutch-born but a naturalized Frenchman, became known as one of the outrageous Fauve painters, but in his work the Fauve riot of colour had little to do with the countryside: instead he focused on the bohemian city life. As a portraitist of the elegant and the shady sides of urban life, he soon became famous. During the post-war period, aristocrats and muses of all sorts flocked to his studio to be painted by the tireless artist, who now displayed a less strident palette and at times a certain cynicism: “The Basic rule is to make the women longer and above all thinner. After that, one has only to make the jewellery bigger. And they love it.”

 

Who is this woman lounging in the corner of a sofa, wearing a fur stole that reveals the flawless cut of her dress? This is one of the many models who kept low company in what Van Dongen called “the cocktail era.” The androgynous haircut and the flowing line of the fabric are characteristic of the free-spirited style of the Roaring Twenties.

 

Gift of Dr. Max Stern, inv. 1978:21

 

From the Placard: Musée Des Beaux-Arts Montréal

 

www.mbam.qc.ca/

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kees_van_Dongen

www.artsy.net/artist/kees-van-dongen

youtu.be/3xQ0TbToSPo

 

黑山藥沒有FaceBook....

只好在這邊慶祝一下!!.......

 

拉丁天王瑞奇馬丁大方「出櫃」

終結外界揣測

 

http://showbiz.chinatimes.com/2009Cti/Channel/Showbiz/showbiz-news-cnt/0,5020,130511+132010033000656,00.html

 

http://tw.news.yahoo.com/article/url/d/a/100330/16/22z8b.html

  

From Ricky's letter:

 

A few months ago I decided to write my memoirs, a project I knew was going to bring me closer to an amazing turning point in my life. From the moment I wrote the first phrase I was sure the book was the tool that was going to help me free myself from things I was carrying within me for a long time. Things that were too heavy for me to keep inside. Writing this account of my life, I got very close to my truth. And thisis something worth celebrating.

 

For many years, there has been only one place where I am in touch with my emotions fearlessly and that’s the stage. Being on stage fills my soul in many ways, almost completely. It’s my vice. The music, the lights and the roar of the audience are elements that make me feel capable of anything. This rush of adrenaline is incredibly addictive. I don’t ever want to stop feeling these emotions. But it is serenity that brings me to where I’m at right now. An amazing emotional place of comprehension, reflection and enlightenment. At this moment I’m feeling the same freedom I usually feel only on stage, without a doubt, I need to share.

 

Many people told me: “Ricky it’s not important”, “it’s not worth it”, “all the years you’ve worked and everything you’ve built will collapse”, “many people in the world are not ready to accept your truth, your reality, your nature”. Because all this advice came from people who I love dearly, I decided to move on with my life not sharing with the world my entire truth. Allowing myself to be seduced by fear and insecurity became a self-fulfilling prophecy of sabotage. Today I take full responsibility for my decisions and my actions.

 

If someone asked me today, “Ricky, what are you afraid of?” I would answer “the blood that runs through the streets of countries at war…child slavery, terrorism…the cynicism of some people in positions of power, the misinterpretation of faith.” But fear of my truth? Not at all! On the contrary, It fills me with strength and courage. This is just what I need especially now that I am the father of two beautiful boys that are so full of light and who with their outlook teach me new things every day. To keep living as I did up until today would be to indirectly diminish the glow that my kids where born with. Enough is enough. This has to change. This was not supposed to happen 5 or 10 years ago, it is supposed to happen now. Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment.

 

These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn’t even know existed.

 

What will happen from now on? It doesn’t matter. I can only focus on what’s happening to me in this moment. The word “happiness” takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution.

 

I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am.

 

RM

   

【攝於/ 台北‧Matt's Place】

 

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Every day I get a little angrier, everyday I get a little sadder, once in a while remember to be happy, but most of the time I fall deeper in love with cynicism. I don't know why it matters so much, why it hurts so much, to feel so misunderstood, to feel so under appreciated, but I do know I soon won't care anymore, about anything they have to say or have to do. These lines on my face, these records of time are all you will have to read of me, when the day comes when I have nothing else left to say.

British postcard in the Film Partners Series, London, no. P 114. Photo: Warner. Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933).

 

American singer and actor Dick Powell (1904-1963) was also a film producer, film director and studio head. Though he came to stardom as a juvenile lead in the Warner backstage musicals, Powell showed versatility, and successfully transformed into a hardboiled leading man in Film Noirs. He was the first actor to portray the private detective Philip Marlowe on screen.

 

Richard Ewing Powell was born in Mountain View, the seat of Stone County in northern Arkansas. Powell was the son of Ewing Powell and Sallie Rowena Thompson. He was one of three brothers. His brothers were Luther and Howard Powell, who ended up as vice president of the Illinois Central Railroad. The family moved to Little Rock in 1914, where Powell sang in church choirs and with local orchestras, and started his own band. Powell attended the former Little Rock College, before he started his entertainment career as a singer and banjo player with the Royal Peacock Band. He then got a gig with the Charlie Davis band and toured with them throughout the mid-west, appearing at dance halls and picture theatres. In 1925, he married Mildred Maund, a model, but she found being married to an entertainer not to her liking. After a final trip to Cuba together, Mildred moved to Hemphill, Texas, and the couple divorced in 1932. He recorded a number of records with Davis and on his own, for the Vocalion label in the late 1920s. Powell moved to Pittsburgh, where he found great local success as the Master of Ceremonies at the Enright Theater and the Stanley Theater. In April 1930, Warner Bros. bought Brunswick Records, which at that time owned Vocalion. Warner Bros. was sufficiently impressed by Dick Powell's singing and stage presence to offer him a film contract in 1932. He made his film debut as a singing bandleader in Blessed Event (Roy Del Ruth, 1932) with Lee Tracy and Mary Brian. He was borrowed by Fox to support Will Rogers in Too Busy to Work (John G. Blystone, 1932). He was a boyish crooner, the sort of role he specialised in for the next few years. Back at Warners he supported George Arliss in The King's Vacation (John G. Adolfi, 1933). Then he was the love interest for Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), which was a massive hit. Warner let him repeat the role in Gold Diggers of 1933 (Mervyn LeRoy, 1933), which was another big success. Looking rather younger than his actual years, Powell soon found himself typecast as clean-cut singing juveniles. Another hit was Footlight Parade (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), with Keeler, Joan Blondell and James Cagney. Powell was upped to star for College Coach (William A. Wellman, 1933), then went back to more ensemble pieces including 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), Convention City (Archie Mayo, 1933), and Dames (Ray Enright, Busby Berkeley, 1934). He was top-billed in Gold Diggers of 1935 (Busby Berkeley, 1935), with Joan Blondell. He supported Marion Davies in Page Miss Glory (Mervyn LeRoy, 1935), made for Cosmopolitan Pictures, a production company financed by Davies' lover William Randolph Hearst who released through Warners. Warners gave Dick Powell a change of pace, casting him as Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Dieterle, Max Reinhardt, 1935). He did two films with Blondell, Stage Struck (Busby Berkeley, 1936) and Gold Diggers of 1937 (Lloyd Bacon, 1937). Then 20th Century Fox borrowed him for On the Avenue (Roy Del Ruth, 1937) with Madeleine carroll. Back at Warners, he appeared in Hard to Get (Ray Enright, 1938) with Olivia de Havilland, and Naughty but Nice (Ray Enright, 1939), starring Ann Sheridan. Fed up with the repetitive nature of his roles, Powell left Warner Bros and went to work for Paramount.

 

At Paramount, Dick Powell and his then-wife, Joan Blondell were in another musical, I Want a Divorce (Ralph Murphy, 1940). Then Powell got a chance to appear in a non-musical, and starred opposite Ellen Drew in the sparkling Preston Sturges comedy Christmas in July (1940). I.S. Mowis at IMDb cites Powell saying: "I knew I wasn't the greatest singer in the world and I saw no reason why an actor should restrict himself to any one particular phase of the business". Universal borrowed him to support Abbott and Costello in In the Navy (Arthur Lubin, 1941), one of the most popular films of 1941. He was in a fantasy comedy directed by René Clair, It Happened Tomorrow (1944) then went over to MGM to appear opposite Lucille Ball in Meet the People (Charles Reisner, 1944), which was a box office flop. During this period, Powell starred in the musical program Campana Serenade, which was broadcast on NBC radio (1942–1943) and CBS radio (1943–1944). I.S. Mowis at IMDb: "Few actors ever managed a complete image transition as thoroughly as did Dick Powell: in his case, from the boyish, wavy-haired crooner in musicals to rugged crime fighters in films noir." By 1944, Powell felt he was too old to play romantic leading men anymore. Still dissatisfied with lightweight roles, Powell lobbied hard to get the lead in Double Indemnity. He lost out to Fred MacMurray, another Hollywood nice guy. MacMurray's success, however, fueled Powell's resolve to pursue projects with greater range. Instead, he was slotted into more of the same fare, refused to comply and was suspended. Powell tried his luck at RKO and at last managed to secure a lucrative role: that of hard-boiled private eye Philip Marlowe in Raymond Chandler's Murder, My Sweet (Edward Dmytryk, 1944). He was the first actor to play Marlowe – by name – in motion pictures. Hollywood had previously adapted some Marlowe novels, but with the lead character changed. Later, Powell was the first actor to play Marlowe on radio, in 1944 and 1945, and on television, in an episode of Climax! (1954). Murder My Sweet was a big hit. Bosley Crowther in the New York Times: " ...and while he may lack the steely coldness and cynicism of a Humphrey Bogart, Mr. Powell need not offer any apologies. He has definitely stepped out of the song-and-dance, pretty-boy league with this performance". Powell had successfully reinvented himself as a dramatic actor. His career changed dramatically: he was cast in a series of Films Noirs. On the radio, Powell played detective Richard Rogue in the series Rogue's Gallery beginning in 1945. On screen, Dmytryk and Powell reteamed to make the film Cornered (Edward Dmytryk, 1945), a gripping, post-World War II thriller that helped define the Film Noir style. For Columbia, he played a detective in Johnny O'Clock (Robert Rossen, 1947) and made To the Ends of the Earth (Robert Stevenson, 1948) with Signe Hasso. In 1948, he stepped out of the brutish type when he starred in Pitfall (André De Toth, 1948), a Film Noir in which a bored insurance company worker falls for an innocent but dangerous woman, played by Lizabeth Scott. He broadened his range appearing in a Western, Station West (Sidney Lanfield, 1948), and a French Foreign Legion tale, Rogues' Regiment (Robert Florey, 1949) with Marta Toren. He was a Mountie in Mrs. Mike (Louis King, 1950). From 1949 to 1953, Powell played the lead role in the NBC radio theater production Richard Diamond, Private Detective. His character in the 30-minute weekly was a likable private detective with a quick wit. Many episodes were written by Blake Edwards and many ended with Detective Diamond having an excuse to sing a little song to his date.

 

Dick Powell took a break from tough-guy roles in The Reformer and the Redhead (Melvin Frank, Norman Panama, 1950), opposite his new wife June Allyson. Then it was back to tougher movies: Cry Danger (Robert Parrish, 1951), as an ex con; and The Tall Target (Anthony Mann, 1951), as a detective who tries to prevent the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He returned to comedy with You Never Can Tell (Lou Breslow, 1951). He had a good role as best-selling novelist James Lee Bartlow in the popular melodrama, The Bad and the Beautiful (Vincente Minnelli, 1952). His final film performance was in a romantic comedy Susan Slept Here (1954) for director Frank Tashlin. Even when he appeared in lighter fare such as Susan Slept Here (Frank Tashlin, 1954), he never sang in his later roles. It was his final onscreen appearance in a feature film, and included a dance number with co-star Debbie Reynolds. By this stage Powell had turned director. His feature debut was Split Second (1953) with Stephen McNally and Alexis Smith. He followed it with The Conqueror (1956), coproduced by Howard Hughes starring John Wayne as Genghis Khan. The exterior scenes were filmed in St. George, Utah, downwind of U.S. above-ground atomic tests. The cast and crew totaled 220, and of that number, 91 had developed some form of cancer by 1981, and 46 had died of cancer by then, including Powell and Wayne. He directed Allyson opposite Jack Lemmon in You Can't Run Away from It (1956). Powell then made two war films at Fox with Robert Mitchum, The Enemy Below (1957) and The Hunters (1958). In the 1950s, Powell was one of the founders of Four Star Television, along with Charles Boyer, David Niven, and Ida Lupino. He appeared in and supervised several shows for that company. Powell played the role of Willie Dante in episodes of Four Star Playhouse, and guest-starred in numerous Four Star programs. Shortly before his death, Powell sang on camera for the final time in a guest-star appearance on Four Star's Ensign O'Toole, singing 'The Song of the Marines', which he first sang in his film The Singing Marine (Ray Enright, 1937). He hosted and occasionally starred in his Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater on CBS from 1956–1961, and his final anthology series, The Dick Powell Show on NBC from 1961 through 1963; after his death, the series continued through the end of its second season (as The Dick Powell Theater), with guest hosts. He married three times: Mildred Evelyn Maund (1925-1932), Joan Blondell (1936-1944) and June Allyson ( 1945, until his death in 1963). He adopted Joan Blondell's son from a previous marriage, Norman Powell, who later became a television producer; the couple also had one child together, Ellen Powell. He had two children with Allyson, Pamela (adopted) and Richard 'Dick' Powell, Jr. Powell's ranch-style house was used for exterior filming on the ABC TV series, Hart to Hart. Powell was a friend of Hart to Hart actor Robert Wagner and producer Aaron Spelling. In 1962, Powell acknowledged rumors that he was undergoing treatment for cancer. The disease was originally diagnosed as an allergy, with Powell first experiencing symptoms while traveling East to promote his program. Upon his return to California, Powell's personal physician conducted tests and found malignant tumors on his neck and chest. Powell died at the age of 58 in 1963. His body was cremated and his remains were interred in the Columbarium of Honor at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California. In The Day of the Locust (1975), Powell was portrayed by his son Dick Powell Jr.

 

Sources: I.S. Mowis (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Masonic Tracing Board Decoded & Explained: youtu.be/9exPJ6LAjA8

 

Elmvale Masonic Temple 77 Queen Street West Elmvale Ontario.

 

A Masonic Moment- The Tracing Board

 

We are told in the Junior Wardens lecture the Tracing Board is one of the three Immovable Jewels for the Worshipful Master to “lay lines and draw designs on”. From time immemorial, man has recorded his experiences and relationships to the world through various images of the human condition. As we advanced, man learned the value of tracing out for himself pictures of ideas and then communicating them in elaborate pictorial language to his companions. These visuals were eventually applied to practical projects like the planning of battles, laying out of settlements and drafting of buildings.

In our Craft, Hiram Abiff’s Tracing Board was traditionally believed to been made of wood, coated with wax. Each day he would draw his measurements and symbols into the wax to instruct his Master Masons of the work that was to be accomplished. At the end of the day he would simply scrape off the wax and pour a new layer onto the board to ready it for the next day’s work. Much closer to the recent past, when Lodges were held in secret locations, the Tyler would draw an oblong square into the dirt that represented the form of the lodge. The Masters plan was then drawn along with the working tools that were to be used in the degree. Through the years the Masonic Tracing Board progressed to using charcoal or chalk on the floor of taverns where lodges were usually held. At this time several exposures of Freemasonry were published, one appearing in 1762 stating the images they drew on the floor were not to be seen by the profane.

 

Freemasonry has always been about the use of images and symbols which regular words are too simple to explain, allowing us to use our individual insight to de-code the messages. During the closing of our Lodges the meaning of the words “...nothing remains but, according to ancient custom, to lock up our secrets ...” is a reference to the now antiquated use of these Tracing Boards that were erased from the floor to leave no trace of the form of the lodge or the instructive drawings. After the lecture the lodge Stewards or the Entered Apprentices would get a broom or mop and remove all evidence of these drawings. This was a tedious and messy procedure so cloths or rugs were eventually created which could be laid on the floor and simply folded up when the lecture was completed.

 

The Tracing Boards used in the Emulation Lodge of Improvement in London were designed and painted by John Harris in 1845 and measured approximately 6 feet x 3 feet. These Tracing Board images created for each of the three degrees are the ones we commonly see on the walls of our lodges still today. The First Degree Tracing Board represents the Universe, both the inner one and the one stretching to infinity. It pictures life emerging from the eternal centre and radiating outwards. The Second Degree Tracing Board may be described as an intermediate stage of life’s journey and the beginning of ascension from a lower to a higher plane. The Third degree Tracing Board is simpler, there are fewer objects but their import is deeper than the other two, with different symbols and a coded Masonic cypher. Tracing Boards are designed with the objective of directing candidates along a path where their interpretations will vary from brother to brother and many books have been written amplifying their various meanings.

 

Tracing Boards should not be confused with Trestle Boards, the two are entirely different. The Trestle Board is a framework from which the Master inscribes ideas to direct the workman in their labours. It is usually in written form containing words, diagrams and figures, allowing the Tracing Board to be created as a picture formally drawn, containing a delineation of the symbols of the degree to which it belongs. It is through the Tracing Boards we introduce the brethren to their next step, a step that they must decipherer on their own to continue their personal journey through the mysteries of Freemasonry. The Tracing Board teaches us clearly that the path to realization of brotherly love is through the study of spiritual teachings and the development and strengthening of those myriad of virtues we hold dear including the ultimate trio of Faith, Hope and Mercy.

 

W Bro Garry Perkins FCF

 

A Masonic Jacob's Ladder.

 

An important symbol of the Entered Apprentice Degree. A ladder of several staves or rounds of which three are illustrated tot he candidate as Faith, Hope and Chairty; the three theological virtues.

 

Source: Masonicdictionary.com

 

Articles On Jacob's Ladder:

 

Mackey's Encyclopedia Article

1897 Canadian Craftsman Article

1935 MSA Short Talk Bulletin

 

JACOB'S LADDER:

 

The introduction of Jacob's ladder into the symbolism of Speculative Freemasonry is to be traced to the vision of Jacob, which is thus substantially recorded in the twenty-eighth chapter of the Book of Genesis: When Jacob, by the command of his father Isaac, was journeying toward Padanaram, while sleeping one night with the bare earth for his couch and a stone for his pillow, he beheld the vision of a ladder, whose foot rested on the earth and whose top reached to heaven. Angels were continually ascending and descending upon it, and promised him the blessing of a numerous and happy posterity. When Jacob awoke, he was filled with pious gratitude, and consecrated the spot as the house of God.

 

This ladder, so remarkable in the history of the Jewish people, finds its analogue in all the ancient initiations. Whether this is to be attributed simply to a coincidence-a theory which but few scholars would be willing to accept-or to the fact that these analogues were all derived from a common fountain of symbolism, or whether, as such by Brother Oliver, the origin of the symbol was lost among the practices of the Pagan rites, while the symbol itself was retained, it is, perhaps, impossible authoritatively to determine. It is, however, certain that the ladder as a symbol of moral and intellectual progress existed almost universally in antiquity, presenting itself either as a succession of steps, of gates, of Degrees, or in some other modified form. The number of the steps varied; although the favorite one appears to have been seven, in reference, apparently, to the mystical character almost everywhere given to that number.

 

Thus, in the Persian Mysteries of Mithras, there was a ladder of seven rounds, the passage through them being symbolical of the soul's approach to perfection. These rounds were called gates, and, in allusion to them, the candidate was made to pass through seven dark and winding caverns, which process was called the ascent of the ladder of perfection Each of these caverns was the representative of a world, or w state of existence through which the soul was supposed to pass in its progress from the first world to the last, or the world of truth. Each round of the ladder was said to be of metal of measuring purity, and was dignified also with the name of its protecting planet. Some idea of the construction of this symbolic ladder may be obtained from the accompanying table.

 

7. Gold ............... Sun ............... Truth

6. Silver ............. Moon ........... Mansion of the Blessed

5. Iron ................ Mars ............ World of Births

4. Tin ................. Jupiter ......... Middle World

3. Copper ......... Venus .......... Heaven

2. Quicksilver .. Mercury ....... World of Pre-existence

1. Lead ............... Saturn .......... First World

 

Source: Mackey's Encyclopedia of Freemasonry

 

Jacob's Ladder: Author Unknown

 

When this symbol, which is taken from Jacob's Vision (Genesis xxviii), was introduced into English Speculative Freemasonry is not exactly known. But we find allusions to it a little after the middle of the last [18th] century. It apparently was not originally a symbol of Speculative Masonry, but was probably introduced from Hermetic Masonry, about 1776. But we fancy that it came from Hermeticism, of which it was a favorite symbol. Certain it is that we do not find it in any of our far oldest known rituals if indeed they can be depended upon. Gadicke says of it, "Either resting upon the floor cloth or on the Bible, the compasses, and the square, it should lead the thoughts of the brethren to heaven. If we find that it has many staves or rounds, they represent as many moral and religious duties. If it has only three, they should represent Faith, Hope and Charity. Draw Faith, Hope, and Charity from the Bible with these three encircle the whole earth, and order all thy actions by the square of truth, so shall the heavens be opened upon thee."

 

Curiously enough, in Germany, the `Handbuch' tells us this symbolism is not used, nor on the continent generally. It has been pointed out by Oliver, by the `Handbuch,' and by others, that this is a mystical ladder to be found in the teaching of most other occult systems. Thus in the Mithraic mysteries the seven-runged ladder is said to have been a symbol of the ascent of the soul to perfection. Each of the rungs was termed a gate, and the `Handbuch' declares that the aspirants had to pass through a dark and winding cavern. The last, or Adytum, was full of light, and also assures us that in the old Hebraic Cabala the number of steps (for they had a cabalistic ladder also), was unlimited, until the Essenes reduce the number to seven. The latter Cabalists are said to have made ten Sephriroth - the Kingdom, the Foundation, Splendor, Firmness, Beauty, Justice, Mercy, Intelligence, Wisdom, and the Crown, by which we arrive at the Infinite, as Mackey and others put it.

 

It is alleged that in the mysteries of Brahma and in the Egyptian mysteries this ladder is also to be found. But this fact seems a little doubtful especially as the Egyptian mysteries little is known. The ladder is, however, to be seen among the hieroglyphics. In the Brahmic mysteries there is, we are told a ladder of seven steps, emblematic of seven worlds. The first and lowest was the Earth; the second, the World of Pre-Existence; the third, Heaven; the fourth, the Middle World, or intermediate region; the fifth, the World of Births; the sixth, the Mansions of the Blest; and the seventh, the Sphere of Truth. Some little difference of opinion exists as to the representation of the Brahmic teaching. It has been stated that in Hermetic or higher Masonry, so-called, the seven steps represent Justice, Equality, Kindness, Good Faith, Labor, Patience and intelligence. They are also represented as Justice, Charity, Innocence, Sweetness, Faith, Firmness and Truth, the Greater Work, Responsibility. But this is quite a modern arrangement in all probability. In Freemasonry it has been said that the ladder with its seven rungs or steps represents the four cardinal and three theological virtues which in symbolism seems to answer to the seven grades of Hermetic symbolism. It must be remembered that we have no actual old operative ritual before us, and on the other hand we must not lay too much store by the negative evidence of later rituals - that is, because we do not find until then actual mention of certain words and symbolisms therefore conclude they did not exist earlier. On the whole, Jacob's ladder in Freemasonry seems to point to the connection between Faith and Heaven, man and God, and to represent Faith, Hope and Charity; or, as it is declared, Faith in God, Charity to all men, and Hope in Immortality.

 

- Source: The Craftsman - December 1897

 

THREE PRINCIPAL ROUNDS:

 

“And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and beheld a ladder set upon the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and beheld the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac.” These words (Genesis XXVIII, 10-13 inclusive)v are the foundation of that beautiful symbol of the Entered Apprentice’s Degree in which the initiate first hears”. . . the greatest of these is charity, for our faith may be lost in sight, hope ends in fruition, but charity extends beyond the grave, through the boundless realms of eternity.” At least two prophets besides the describer of Jacob’s vision have spoken aptly reinforcing words Job said (XXXIII, 14-16):

 

“For God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed: Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instructions.”

 

And St. John (I,51):

 

“And he said unto him, Verily, verily I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

 

Since the dawn of thought the ladder has been a symbol of progress, of ascent, of reaching upward, in many mysteries, faiths and religions. Sometimes the ladder becomes steps, sometimes a stairway, sometimes a succession of gates or, more modernly, of degrees; but he idea of ascent from darkness to light, from ignorance to knowledge and from materially to spiritually is the same whatever the form of the symbol.

 

In the Persian Mysteries of Mithras, the candidate ascended a ladder of seven rounds, and also passed through seven caverns, symbolized by seven metals, and by the sun, moon and five planets. The early religion of Brahma had also a seven stepped ladder. In the Scandinavian Mysteries the initiate climbed a tree; the Cabalists made progress upward by ten steps. In the Scottish Rite the initiate encounters the Ladder of Kadosh, also of seven steps, and most of the early tracing boards of the Craft Degrees show a ladder of seven rounds, representing the four cardinal and three theological virtues. At one time, apparently, the Masonic ladder had but three steps. The Prestonian lecture, which Mackey thought was an elaboration of Dunkerly’s system, rests the end of the ladder on the Holy Bible; it reads:

 

“By the doctrines contained in the Holy Bible, we are taught to believe in the Divine dispensation of Providence, which belief strengthens our “Faith,” and enables us to ascend the first step. That Faith naturally creates in a “Hope” of becoming partakers of some of the blessed promises therein recorded, which “Hope” enables us to ascend the second step. But the third and last being “Charity” comprehends the whole, and he who is possessed of this virtue in its ample sense, is said to have arrived at the summit of his profession, or more metaphorically, into an etherial mansion veiled from mortal eye by the starry firmament.”

 

The theological ladder is not very old in Masonic symbolism, as far as evidence shows. Some historians have credited it to Matin Clare, in 1732, but on very slender evidence. It seems to appear first is a tracing board approximately dated 1776, and has there but three rounds. As the tracing board is small, the contraction from seven to three may have been a matter of convenience. If it is true that Dunkerly introduced Jacob’s ladder into the degrees, he my have reduced the steps from seven to three merely to emphasize the number three, so important Masonically; possibly it was to achieve a certain measure of simplicity. Preston, however, restored the idea of seven steps, emphasizing the theological virtues by denominating them “principal rounds.

 

The similarity of Jacob’s Ladder of seven steps to the Winding Stairs, with three, five and seven steps has caused many to believe each but a different form of the same symbol; Haywood says (“The Builder, Vol.5, No.11):

 

“Other scholars have opined that the steps were originally the same as the Theological Ladder, and had the same historical origin. Inasmuch as this Theo-logical Ladder symbolized progress, just as does the Winding Stair, some argue that the latter symbol must have come from the same sources as the former. This interpretation of the matter my be plausible enough, and it may help towards an interpretation of both symbols, but it suffers from an almost utter lack of tangible evidence.”

 

Three steps or seven, symbol similar to the Winding Stairs or different in meaning and implications, the theological virtues are intimately interwoven in the Masonic system. Our many rituals alter the phraseology here and there, but the sense is the same and the concepts identical.

 

According to the dictionary (Standard) Faith is “a firm conviction of the truth of what is declared by another . . .without other evidence: The assent of the mind or understanding to the truth of what God has revealed.”

 

The whole concept of civilization rests upon that form of faith covered in the first definition. Without faith in promises, credit and the written word society as we know it could not exist. Nor could Freemasonry have been born, much less lived through many centuries without secular, as distinguished from religious, faith; faith in the integrity of those who declared that Freemasonry had value to give to those who sought; faith in its genuineness and reality; faith in its principles and practices.

 

Yet our ritual declares that the third, not the first, round of the ladder is “the greatest of these” because “faith may be lost in sight.” Faith is not needed where evidence is presented, and in the far day when the human soul may see for itself the truths we now except without demonstrations, faith may disappear without any con- sciousness of loss. But on earth faith in the divine revelation is of the utmost importance to all, especially from the Masonic standpoint. No atheist can be made a Mason. Any man who misstates his belief in Deity in order to become a Mason will have a very unhappy experience in taking the degrees. Young wrote:

 

“Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death To break the shock blind nature cannot shun And lands though smoothly on the further shore.”

 

The candidate that has no “bridge across the gulf” will find in the degrees only words which mean nothing. To the soul on its journey after death, the third round may indeed be of more import than the first; to Masons in their doctrine and their Lodges, the first round is a foundation; lacking it no brother may climb the heights. Hope is intimately tied to faith: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

 

The dictionary declares hope to be “desire with expectations of obtaining: to trust confidently that good will come.” But the dictionary definition fails to express the mental and spiritual importance of hope. Philosophers and poets have done much better. “Where there is no hope, there can be no endeavor,” says Samuel Johnson, phrasing a truism everyone feels though few express. All ambitions, all human actions, all labors are founded on hope. It may be crystallized into a firm faith, but in a world in which nothing is certain, the future inevitably is hidden. We live, love, labor, pray, marry and become Masons. bury our dead with hope in breasts of something beyond. Pope wrote:

 

“Hope spring eternal in the human breast; Many never is, but always to be, blest,” blending a cynicism with the truth.

 

Shakespeare came closer to everyday humanity when he said: “True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures, kings.”

 

Dante could find no more cruel words to write above the entrance to hell than:

 

“Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here.”

 

Nor can we be argued out of hope; doctors say of a loved one, “she must die,” but we hope; atheists attempt to prove there is no God - we hope. Facts demonstrate that our dearest ambition can never be realized - yet we hope. To quote Young again, we are all:

 

“Confiding, though confounded; hope coming on, Untaught by trial, unconvinced by proof, And ever looking for the never seen.” And yet, vital though hope is to man, to Masons, and thrice vital to faith. our ritual says that charity is greater than either faith or hope.

 

To those whom charity means only handing a quarter to a beggar, paying a subscription to the community chest, or sending old clothes to the Salvation army, the declaration that charity is greater than faith or hope is difficult to accept. Only when the word “charity” is read to mean “love,” as many scholars say it should be translated in Paul’s magnificent passage in Corinthians, does our ritual become logically intelligible. Charity of alms can hardly “extend through the boundless realms of eternity.” To give money to the poor is a beautiful act, but hardly as important, either to the giver or the recipient, as faith or hope. But to give love, unstinted, without hope of or faith in reward - that, indeed, may well extend to the very foot of the Great White Throne.

 

It is worth while to read St. Paul with this meaning of the word in mind; here is the quotation from the King James version, but with the word “love” substituted for the word “charity:”

 

“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing. Love suffereth long, and is kind; Love enveith not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth.”

 

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.”

 

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, love; these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

 

It is of such charity that a Mason’s faith is made. He is, indeed, taught the beauty of giving that which is material; the Rite of Destitution shows forth the tender lesson in the first degree; Masonic Homes, Schools, Foundation, Orphanages and Hospitals are the living exponents of the charity which means to give from a plenty to those who have but a paucity.

 

The first of the principal tenets of our profession and the third round of Jacob’s Ladder are really one; brotherly love is “the greatest of these” and only when a Mason takes to his heart the reading of charity to be more than alms, does he see the glory of that moral structure the door to which Freemasonry so gently, but so widely, opens.

 

Charity of thought for an erring brother; charity which lays a brotherly hand on a troubled shoulder in comfort; charity which exults with the happy and finds joy in his success; charity which sorrows with the grieving and drops a tear in sympathy; charity which opens the heart as well as the pocket book; charity which stretches forth a hand of hope to the hopeless, which aids the helpless, which brings new faith to the crushed . . .aye, these, indeed, may “extend through the boundless realms of eternity.”

 

Man is never so close to the divine as when he loves; it is because of that fact that charity, (meaning love,) rather than faith or hope, is truly, “the greatest of these.”

 

Source: Short Talk Bulletin - Apr. 1935

Masonic Service Association of North America

 

Jacob’s Ladder:

 

Jacob’s Ladder is the only reference from the volume of the Sacred Law which is mentioned twice in the Craft Ritual; it must therefore, be considered to be of great importance. In our Masonic ritual, the first mention of Jacob’s ladder describes how Masons are enabled to ascend to the summit of masonry, i.e. Charity. This ascent is made possible from it’s beginning in the doctrines of the Holy Book followed by ascending the steps of Faith and Hope which in turn lead to the summit - CHARITY.

The second mention of Jacob’s Ladder in the ritual is in the explanation of the first Tracing Board which refers to the Volume of the Sacred Law supporting Jacob’s Ladder, but this time it brings us directly to God in Heaven, provided that we are conversant with the Holy Book and are adherent to it’s doctrines.

 

The Introduction of Jacob’s Ladder into speculative Masonry is to be traced to the vision of Jacob, which is recorded in the book of Genesis. “When Jacob, while sleeping one night , with the bare earth for his couch and a stone for his pillow, beheld the vision of a ladder, whose foot rested on the earth and whose top reached to heaven. Angels were continually ascending and descending upon it, and promised him the blessing of a numerous and happy prosperity. When Jacob awoke, he was filled with pious gratitude, and consecrated the spot as the house of God.”

 

This ladder, so remarkable in the history of the Jewish people, is to be found in all the ancient initiations. Whether by coincidence, or that they were all derived from a common fountain of symbolism is unknown. However, it is certain that the ladder as a symbol of moral and intellectual progress existed almost universally in antiquity, as a succession of steps, of gates, of degrees or in some other modified form. The number of steps varied; but most commonly was seven in allusion to the mystical importance given to that number. Thus in the Persian mysteries of Mithras, there was a ladder of seven rounds, the passage through them being symbolical of the soul’s approach to perfection. These rounds were called Gates, and, in allusion to them, the candidate was made to pass through seven dark and winding caverns, which process was called the ‘Ascent of the Ladder of Perfection’.

 

Each round of the ladder was said to be of metal and of increasing purity, and was dignified also with the name of it’s protecting planet. The highest being Gold . &. . . The Sun, next Silver and the Moon . . . through to Lead and Saturn. In the mysteries of Brahma we find the same reference to a ladder of seven steps, with similar names. In Scandinavian mysteries the tree Yggrasil was the representative of the mystical ladder. The ascent of the tree, like the ascent of the ladder, was a change from a lower to a higher sphere - from time to eternity, and from death to life.

 

In Masonry we find the ladder of Kadosh, which consists of seven steps, commencing from the bottom : Justice - Equity - Kindness - Good Faith - Labour - Patience and Intelligence. The idea of Intellectual progress to perfection is carried out by making the top round represent Wisdom or Understanding.

 

The ladder in Craft Masonry ought also to consist of seven steps, ascending as follows : Temperance - Fortitude - Prudence - Justice - Faith - Hope - and Charity. But the earliest examples of the ladder present it only with three, referring to the three theological virtues, whence it is sometimes called the Theological Ladder. It seems, therefore, to have been determined by general usage to have only three steps. In the 16th. century it was stated that Jacob’s ladder was a symbol of the progressive scale of intellectual communication between earth and heaven; and upon this ladder, as it were, step by step, man is permitted - with the angels - to ascend and to descend until the mind finds blissful and complete repose in the bosom of divinity.

 

Jewish writers differ very much in their exposition of the ladder. Abben Ezra thought that it was a symbol of the human mind, and that the Angels represented the sublime meditations of man. Maimonides supposed the ladder to symbolise Nature in it’s operations, giving it four steps, to represent the four elements - the two heavier earth and water - and the two lighter - fire and air. And Raphael interprets the ladder, and the ascent and descent of the Angels, as the prayers of man and the answering inspiration of God. Nicolai says that the ladder with three steps was, among the Rosicrucian Freemasons in the seventeenth century, a symbol of the knowledge of nature. Finally Krause says that Brother Keher of Edinburgh, whom he described as a truthful Mason, had in 1802 assured the members of a Lodge in Altenberg that originally only one Scottish degree existed, whose object was the restoration of James III (1460 ) to the throne of England and that Jacob’s ladder had been adopted by them as a symbol. An authentic narrative is purported to be contained in the archives of the Grand Lodge of Scotland.

 

In the Ancient Craft degrees Jacob’s ladder was not an original symbol. The first appearance of a ladder is in a Tracing Board, on which is inscribed the date 1776, which agrees with the date of Dunkerley’s revised lectures. In this Tracing Board the ladder has only three rounds, a change from the seven-stepped ladder of the old mysteries, and was later described as having many rounds, but three principal ones.

 

The modern Masonic ladder, is, as I have already said, a symbol of progress, as it was in the ancient initiations. It’s three principal rounds, representing Faith, Hope and Charity, present us with the means of advancing from earth to heaven, from death to life, from the mortal to immortality. Hence it’s foot is placed on the floor of the Lodge, which is typical of the world, and it’s top rests on the covering of the Lodge, which is symbolic of heaven. Which explains the statement given in the lecture on the Tracing Board of the First Degree in Craft Masonry, that the ladder rests on the Holy Bible and reaches to the heavens.

 

The Stone:

 

Before I close I would like to take you back to those words from the Book of Genesis, namely, “. . . .with the bare earth for his couch and a stone for a pillow. . . . “

 

Almost 4,000 years ago fate brought Jacob’s caravan to a place called Bethel near Jerusalem, then as even now it was the custom for a traveller to bolster his pillow and bedding with stones for a more comfortable position.

 

With his head resting on a particular stone, Jacob is said to have had his famous dream, which we have heard earlier.

 

Jacob prospered in wealth and knowledge and was directed by God to return to Bethel. On his return, the Lord again appeared to him saying “I am the God of Bethel”, thus the Lord associated himself not only with the place of the vision but with the Bethel Stone. Jacob took the Stone with him and, from that time on it was always set up as a pillar marking the altar to the God of Israel.

 

The Bethel Stone, finally, was returned to Jerusalem where it served as the Coronation Stone for the Jewish Kings, ending with the infamous Zedekiah in 581 B.C. According to Irish historians, a few years later (578 B.C. ) a small but distinguished group of strangers, who had fled from Palestine, arrived in Ulster. They had brought with them the Bethel Stone, or Stone of Destiny, together with a Royal harp and an Ark. It is significant to note that a Harp has been the royal arms of Ireland for the last 2,500 years.

 

The Stone remained in Ireland for over 1,000 years where every king of Ireland was crowned upon it. Till Fearghus Mor ( The Great )took it to the Scottish island of Iona. Here 48 kings of Scotland were crowned upon it until the ninth century, when it was transferred to the town of Scone near Perth for safe keeping by Coinneach Cruadalach (the Hardy) who became King of Scotland. There it remained for 400 years as that nations coronation stone.

 

In the reign of England’s Edward I it was removed from Scotland (1292 ), either by force or by mutual agreement (the Authorities disagree), and there it remained located under the Coronation Chair in the Westminster Abbey until 1996, when it was returned to Scotland by a special Act of Parliament..

 

Early Rose Croix:

 

It would appear from reliable documentation that was still in existence, in Austria, prior to the Second World War, that a form of Rose Croix Masonry was first known in 1747, which had formerly been known as “Knights of the Pelican”. There are a number of references, under a variety of different titles, which all purport to relate to Rose Croix Masonry. These variously date back as far as the Knights Templars of Palestine in 1188 A.D. However, the earliest reference to Rose Croix without any additional appendage, and which seems most likely to be to be in accord with the Order as we know it today, first appeared in 1747.

 

In the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite, from which the Rose Croix Masons of America first received the degree, it was placed 18th. on the list - thus the degree became known ( by common usage ) as the Eighteenth Degree. The degree was conferred inin a body known as a chapter, which derived it’s authority directly from a Supreme Council of the Thirty Third degree, and which conferred with it only one other and inferior degree, that of “Knight of the East and West”. A chapters principal officers being a Most Wise Sovereign and two Wardens. Interestingly, the order had two ‘Obligatory’ days of meeting, Maundy Thursday and Easter Sunday. Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday is the Thursday before Easter, observed by Christians in commemoration of Christ’s Last Supper. The name ‘Maundy is derived from MANDATUM ( Latin: “commandment” ).

 

The Jewel of the Rose Croix is a Golden Compasses, extended on an arc to the sixteenth part of a circle - or twenty two and a half degrees. The head of the compasses is surmounted by a triple crown, consisting of three series of points arranged by three, five and seven. Between the legs of the compasses is a cross resting on the arc; it’s centre is occupied by a full blown rose, whose stem entwines around the lower limb of the cross; at the foot of the cross, on the same side, on which the rose is exhibited, is the figure of a Pelican wounding it’s breast to feed it’s young, which are in the nest surrounding it.

 

An interesting article:

 

www.freemasons-freemasonry.com/masonic_ladder.htm

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZ2HUfD0QSw&feature=share&amp...

Universal, 15 Chapters, 1938. Starring Larry “Buster” Crabbe, Jean Rogers, Charles Middleton, Frank Shannon, Beatrice Roberts, Richard Alexander, Donald Kerr, C. Montague Shaw, Wheeler Oakman.

Flash Gordon’s Trip to Mars picks up almost exactly where Flash Gordon left off, with our courageous trio of interplanetary adventurers–Flash Gordon (Larry “Buster” Crabbe), Dale Arden (Jean Rogers), and Dr. Zarkov (Frank Shannon)–returning to Earth from the planet Mongo. They are greeted to a royal welcome, since their voyage has saved the Earth from being destroyed by the late Emperor Ming of Mongo. Zarkov, however, attempts to curb the Earthlings’ ebullience by cautioning them that the defeat and death of Ming does not mean that their planet is free from other threats of extraterrestrial invasion. As usual, Zarkov is correct; shortly after his warning speech, the Martian Queen Azura (Beatrice Roberts) begins an operation designed to siphon off the “nitron” (aka nitrogen) in the Earth’s atmosphere. Azura’s primary goal is to create nitron-powered weapons with which to wage a war against her mortal foes, the Clay People of Mars. She’s indifferent to the devastating effect that it will have on the Earth, while her chief adviser and military consultant regards the destruction of Earth as the main attraction of the plan. That adviser is none other than Ming (Charles Middleton), still very much alive and longing for revenge on Flash and Zarkov for toppling him from his throne and driving him into exile on Mars.

As the Earth begins to experience catastrophic floods and storms, due to the effects of Azura’s “Nitron Lamp,” Zarkov, Flash, and Dale launch another interplanetary trip to discover the cause of the catastrophes, which Zarkov has determined are due to a beam that emanates from outer space. They discover an unexpected stowaway aboard after takeoff–reporter “Happy” Hapgood (Donald Kerr), who had set out to track down Zarkov and get his opinion of the world-wide disasters. Not long after arriving on Mars, our quartet of Earth adventurers find themselves embroiled in the war between Azura and the Clay People. The latter are one-time rivals of the Queen, who have been transformed into living clay by Azura’s magical powers and banished to underground caverns from whence they carry on a guerilla war against Azura’s forces. The Clay People’s king enlists the aid of Flash and his party, as both of them want to stop Azura’s nitron-collecting plans, and, with additional aid from Prince Barin (Richard Alexander)–who arrives on Mars to try to convince the Martians to expel Ming–Flash and his party pit themselves against Azura’s magic, Ming’s machinations, Ming’s savage allies the Forest People, and many other hazards, in their quest to save the Earth.

 

Flash Gordon’s Trip to Mars is fully as good as the first Flash Gordon serial, although its strengths are in slightly different areas. While Trip to Mars doesn’t measure up to Flash Gordon when it comes to colorful characters and fantastic monsters, its focused plotline surpasses the episodic story of the earlier serial. In Flash Gordon, the protagonists merely responded to the perpetual perils that were hurled at them by Ming, King Vultan, and King Kala, while Ming’s own plans for destroying the Earth were largely abandoned after the first chapter in favor of his attempts to marry Dale and destroy Flash. In Trip to Mars, Flash, Dale, and Zarkov initiate events instead of just coping with them, and Ming’s new grand design drives the plot far more strongly than his earlier one, giving the good guys a clear-cut objective (the destruction of the Nitron Lamp) beyond simple escape from Mongo.

While Trip to Mars has no characters to rival Flash Gordon’s King Vultan and no bizarre beasts like the Orangopoid or the Fire Dragon, it still has excellent other-worldly atmosphere. The sets are not as varied and intricate as in the first serial, but still surpass the backdrops of almost any other chapterplay. Especially striking are Ming’s “powerhouse,” with its laboratory equipment and its disintegration room, Azura’s massive palace with its unique architectural design (particularly the futuristic pocket doors), the Clay People’s eerie caves, and the wonderfully-designed realm of the Forest People, with its twisted trees, climbing vines, hidden tunnels amid tree roots, and treehouse-like observation platforms.

 

In addition to the big sets, there are dozens of other major and minor props and special effects that make Trips to Mars memorably atmospheric; there’s the the Martians’ flying capes, the Martian televiewer screens (which are cleverly incorporated into the recap sequences at the beginning of each chapter), the Clay People’s vapor-healing chamber, and the bridge of light that connects Azura’s rocket tower to the rest of her palace and is powered by a simple switch like any Earthling lamp (the scene where Flash and Zarkov are first forced to cross the unsafe-looking thing is quite funny), to name but a few. I also appreciate the fact that Azura’s spaceship squadrons–her “stratosleds”–are designed differently than any of the ships in the first Flash Gordon serial; one would expect the aerial fleets of differing planets to differ in appearance. Another neat touch of internal consistency is the use of three completely different forms of salute by the three principal Martian races–Queen Azura’s subjects, the Clay People, and the Forest People.

The serial’s screenplay maintains good continuity with the previous Flash outing, despite being the work of a completely different team of writers–Ray Trampe, Norman S. Hall, Wyndham Gittens, and Herbert Dalmas. The new writing team avoids any of the clunky lines that occasionally crept into Flash Gordon’s dialogue exchanges; they also, despite having to resort to a few flashbacks to the first serial for padding purposes, manage to make their plot fit its fifteen-chapter length quite nicely. The major plot thread of the heroes’ attempts to destroy Ming and Azura’s Nitron Lamp is skillfully interwoven with several subplots–the Clay People’s efforts to regain their natural shape, the attempts by both Flash and Ming to get hold of the Black Sapphire of Kalu (a talisman that can neutralize Azura’s magic), and Ming’s plot to undermine Azura and seize the Martian throne.

Trip to Mars’ script wisely spreads its plot developments over the course of the serial, instead of introducing all its ideas in the first chapter and letting them tread water until the final one: the Clay People aren’t introduced till the second chapter or the Forest People until the sixth, while Prince Barin first arrives in Chapter Seven. The Nitron Lamp is destroyed in Chapter Nine and rebuilt over the course of the following chapters until it must be destroyed again at the climax, and one of the principal villains is killed off in Chapter Thirteen.

The cliffhangers aren’t quite as varied as in the first Flash serial, due to the lack of the various monsters that frequently attacked Flash for chapter-ending purposes in the earlier outing. However, writers still manage to avoid excessive repetition; for instance, while there are three chapter endings involving stratosled crashes, each one is set up differently–the first has Flash crashing a stratosled into another stratosled to stop it from bombing Dale and Happy, the second has a stratosled crashing on top of Flash and Zarkov, and the third has Flash and the pilots of a ’sled grapping for the controls as it soars towards yet another crash. There’s also an excellent cliffhanger in which Flash, Dale, Happy, and Zarkov are surrounded by an ever-narrowing ring of fire in the Forest People’s kingdom, and a memorably unusual one that has a hypnotized Dale stabbing an unsuspecting Flash in the back.

 

Though Trip to Mars has no swordfights or wrestling matches corresponding to those in Flash Gordon, it still features a nice variety of action scenes–including stratosled dogfights, fights among the vines and treetops of the Forest Kingdom, and chases through Azura’s big palace; the palace sequence in Chapter Five, which has the nimble Flash vaulting through windows to avoid the guards, is a particular standout. Directors Ford Beebe (a Universal serial veteran) and Robert Hill (a talented director who rarely escaped from low-budget independent serials and B-films) do a fine job of orchestrating these action scenes, assisted by stuntmen Eddie Parker (doubling Buster Crabbe), George DeNormand, Tom Steele, Bud Wolfe, and Jerry Frank. All of the aforementioned stuntmen, except Parker, also pop up in minor acting roles.

The performances in Trip to Mars are all first-rate; the returning actors from the first serial are all just as good as they were in Flash Gordon, while the new major players fit in smoothly. Buster Crabbe’s Flash is just as tough, chipper, athletic, and likable as in the first serial–and a good deal more wise and resourceful than before, improvising strategy and coming up with plans in tough situations instead of just trying to batter his way out. Frank Shannon’s Zarkov, as consequence of Flash’s new-found intelligence, has a reduced part, not guiding the good guys’ actions as he did in the first serial; he still functions as the scientific brains of the group, though, and is still as intense, serious, and sincere as before.

Jean Rogers, with her long blonde hair bobbed and dyed brown to better match the comic-strip version of Dale Arden (she’s also dressed in less arresting fashion), isn’t as stunning as in Flash Gordon, but is still a warm, welcome, and lovely presence. Her part here is smaller than in the first serial, though, since Ming is not romantically interested in her this time out (Ming, though no gentleman, evidently prefers blondes). Richard Alexander’s Prince Barin is a lot more self-assured when it comes to delivering dialogue this time around (helped, no doubt, by the absence of any overly high-flown lines), while his convincingly royal bearing and his commanding size are as effective as before.

Charles Middleton’s Ming is even more entertainingly sinister here than he was in Flash Gordon, getting a good deal more screen time and given a more devilish appearance by a notably forked beard. Though still given opportunities to break into tyrannical and bloodthirsty rages (particularly in his insane rant in the final chapter), Middleton spends much of the serial displaying duplicity and sly subtlety instead, since his Ming must pretend to friendship with Azura even while plotting against her. Middleton carries off this slightly more multi-faceted version of Ming masterfully, winning a few laughs with his crafty cynicism while remaining thoroughly sinister and hateful.

 

Beatrice Roberts does a fine job as Queen Azura, eschewing the sneering, aggressive demeanor of other serial villainesses for a regal, dignified manner (with a wryly humorous undercurrent) that contrasts interestingly with her often cruel behavior. Her Azura comes off as selfish and ruthless, but not an abusive tyrant like Ming. Donald Kerr as reporter Happy Hapgood, the other principal new character, is as controversial among fans as most other serial comedy-relief characters are. Speaking for myself, though, I found him quite likable and entertaining; he provides an amusingly commonplace point-of-view towards the fantastic world of Mars and is never obtrusive, gratingly stupid, or obnoxious. Additionally, his character is allowed to be quite heroic and helpful when the chips are down, a far cry from one-dimensional cowardly “comic” pests like Sonny Ray in Perils of Pauline or Lee Ford in SOS Coast Guard.

Wheeler Oakman is very good as Tarnak, Ming’s wily lab assistant and co-conspirator against Azura. C. Montague Shaw, concealed under heavy makeup for most of the serial, conveys an impressive air of ruined dignity as the King of the Clay People and manages to seem both sinister and sympathetic at different times. Usual hero Kane Richmond brings appropriate depth of characterization to his key role as a Martian pilot, who proves instrumental in helping Flash overthrow Ming in the later chapters. Anthony Warde has a small part as Toran, king of the Forest People, but extracts as much snarling nastiness as possible from the role. Future director Thomas Carr is his second-in-command, Kenne Duncan is the officer in charge of Azura’s airdrome, Lane Chandler and Jack Mulhall both appear as pilots of her Death Squadron, and Warner Richmond has a small role as one of Ming’s palace cohorts.

 

Hooper Atchley and James Blaine pop up as self-important Earth scientists, propounding ingenious and inaccurate theories as to the causes of the damage brought about by the Nitron Lamp, while Edwin Stanley is the general presiding over a council comprised of these two and additional savants. Louis Merrill (a radio actor who played character roles in several feature films) has a brief but memorable turn as the blunt and slightly uncouth Dr. Metz, who alone among the scientists has the humility to admit that Zarkov is the only one capable of unravelling the riddle of the disasters. Merrill’s characterization is so vivid that one wishes the actor had taken a larger part in this chapterplay or in other serials.

Flash Gordon’s Trip to Mars is a nearly ideal sequel, in that it manages to preserve the basic strengths of its predecessor while deviating from it in some areas and improving on it in others. It’s also a nearly ideal serial, independent of its relation to the earlier Flash Gordon; it balances good acting, atmosphere, action, and plotting in such fine style that it would still be a notable achievement if it were the sole entry in the Flash Gordon series.

  

Flash, Dale, and Dr. Zarkov return from their former space adventures only to find that their enemy, Ming the Merciless of planet Mongo, has a new weapon: a deadly ray that crosses space to wreak havoc on earth. Earth's only hope is for our heroes to take off again and stop the ray at its source on Mars, where they (and a stowaway) familiar to sci-fi serial fans as Happy Hapgood the space traveling reporter). Must battle Ming's ally, Queen Azura, who turns her enemies into lumpish clay people.With the aid of the Clay People and Prince Barin, Flash and his friends are triumphant in destroying the ray and putting an end to the scheme of Ming the Merciless. Can they survive 15 chapters of deadly perils? Find out next week...

The Deadly Ray From Mars was an edited version of the 1938 Universal serial "Flash Gordon's Trip to Mars" that was released to TV in a syndication package in 1966.

Mars Attacks the World was the feature version of the 1938 serial titled Flash Gordon's Trip to Mars. aka "Space Soldiers' Trip to Mars" - USA (TV title)

Mars Attacks the World is the feature compilation version of the serial Flash Gordon's Trip to Mars, while Rocket Ship is the the feature compilation of the serial Flash Gordon.

Jean Rogers as Dale Arden

Charles Middelton as Emperor Ming

Frank Shannon as Dr. Zarkov

Beatrice Roberts as Queen Azura

Richard Alexander as Prince Barin

Montague Shaw as The Clay King

Donald Kerr as Happy Hapgood the space traveling reporter.

The title of this serial was originally going to be "Flash Gordon and the Witch Queen of Mongo." It was changed so that Universal could save money by shooting the outdoor scenes on the back lot and not have to build costly sets, and by reusing the set for Emperor Ming's palace.

In the stock footage from Flash Gordon, shown in this film, as Flash is telling The Clay People about his previous encounter with Emperor Ming, Ming is bald and Dale Arden has blond hair. In this sequel, Ming has "pasted on" hair and Dale is a brunette. It has been reported that Jean Rogers (Dale Arden) had many other film roles pending at that time (1938) which had called for her to portray a brunette.

King Features Syndicate released the 3 Flash Gordon serials as well as "Buck Rogers," Red Barry", "Ace Drummond" and other comic strip cliffhangers to US TV in 1951. Because the television show Flash Gordon, starring Steve Holland as Flash, was in syndication in late 1953, the three Universal Pictures Flash Gordon theatrical serials were retitled for TV broadcast. Flash Gordon became "Space Soldiers", Flash Gordon's Trip to Mars became "Space Soldiers' Trip to Mars", and Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe became "Space Soldiers Conquer the Universe". To this day both the 3 original "Flash Gordon" serial titles and the 3 "Space Soldiers" titles are used.

Chapter Titles:

1. New Worlds To Conquer

2. The Living Dead

3. Queen of Magic

4. Ancient Enemies

5. The Boomerang

6. Treemen of Mars

7. Prisoner of Monga

8. Black Sapphire of Kalu

9. Symbol of Death

10. Incense of Forgetfulness

11. Human Bait

12. Ming the Merciless

13. Miracle of Magic

14. Beasts at Bay

15. An Eyes For An Eye

  

French postcard by Editions et Publications cinématographiques (EPC), no. 75. Photo: First National.

 

American singer and actor Dick Powell (1904-1963) was also a film producer, film director and studio head. Though he came to stardom as a juvenile lead in the Warner backstage musicals, Powell showed versatility, and successfully transformed into a hardboiled leading man in Film Noirs. He was the first actor to portray the private detective Philip Marlowe on screen.

 

Richard Ewing Powell was born in Mountain View, the seat of Stone County in northern Arkansas. Powell was the son of Ewing Powell and Sallie Rowena Thompson. He was one of three brothers. His brothers were Luther and Howard Powell, who ended up as vice president of the Illinois Central Railroad. The family moved to Little Rock in 1914, where Powell sang in church choirs and with local orchestras, and started his own band. Powell attended the former Little Rock College, before he started his entertainment career as a singer and banjo player with the Royal Peacock Band. He then got a gig with the Charlie Davis band and toured with them throughout the mid-west, appearing at dance halls and picture theatres. In 1925, he married Mildred Maund, a model, but she found being married to an entertainer not to her liking. After a final trip to Cuba together, Mildred moved to Hemphill, Texas, and the couple divorced in 1932. He recorded a number of records with Davis and on his own, for the Vocalion label in the late 1920s. Powell moved to Pittsburgh, where he found great local success as the Master of Ceremonies at the Enright Theater and the Stanley Theater. In April 1930, Warner Bros. bought Brunswick Records, which at that time owned Vocalion. Warner Bros. was sufficiently impressed by Dick Powell's singing and stage presence to offer him a film contract in 1932. He made his film debut as a singing bandleader in Blessed Event (Roy Del Ruth, 1932) with Lee Tracy and Mary Brian. He was borrowed by Fox to support Will Rogers in Too Busy to Work (John G. Blystone, 1932). He was a boyish crooner, the sort of role he specialised in for the next few years. Back at Warners he supported George Arliss in The King's Vacation (John G. Adolfi, 1933). Then he was the love interest for Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), which was a massive hit. Warner let him repeat the role in Gold Diggers of 1933 (Mervyn LeRoy, 1933), which was another big success. Looking rather younger than his actual years, Powell soon found himself typecast as clean-cut singing juveniles. Another hit was Footlight Parade (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), with Keeler, Joan Blondell and James Cagney. Powell was upped to star for College Coach (William A. Wellman, 1933), then went back to more ensemble pieces including 42nd Street (Lloyd Bacon, 1933), Convention City (Archie Mayo, 1933), and Dames (Ray Enright, Busby Berkeley, 1934). He was top-billed in Gold Diggers of 1935 (Busby Berkeley, 1935), with Joan Blondell. He supported Marion Davies in Page Miss Glory (Mervyn LeRoy, 1935), made for Cosmopolitan Pictures, a production company financed by Davies' lover William Randolph Hearst who released through Warners. Warners gave Dick Powell a change of pace, casting him as Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Dieterle, Max Reinhardt, 1935). He did two films with Blondell, Stage Struck (Busby Berkeley, 1936) and Gold Diggers of 1937 (Lloyd Bacon, 1937). Then 20th Century Fox borrowed him for On the Avenue (Roy Del Ruth, 1937) with Madeleine carroll. Back at Warners, he appeared in Hard to Get (Ray Enright, 1938) with Olivia de Havilland, and Naughty but Nice (Ray Enright, 1939), starring Ann Sheridan. Fed up with the repetitive nature of his roles, Powell left Warner Bros and went to work for Paramount.

 

At Paramount, Dick Powell and his then-wife, Joan Blondell were in another musical, I Want a Divorce (Ralph Murphy, 1940). Then Powell got a chance to appear in a non-musical, and starred opposite Ellen Drew in the sparkling Preston Sturges comedy Christmas in July (1940). I.S. Mowis at IMDb cites Powell saying: "I knew I wasn't the greatest singer in the world and I saw no reason why an actor should restrict himself to any one particular phase of the business". Universal borrowed him to support Abbott and Costello in In the Navy (Arthur Lubin, 1941), one of the most popular films of 1941. He was in a fantasy comedy directed by René Clair, It Happened Tomorrow (1944) then went over to MGM to appear opposite Lucille Ball in Meet the People (Charles Reisner, 1944), which was a box office flop. During this period, Powell starred in the musical program Campana Serenade, which was broadcast on NBC radio (1942–1943) and CBS radio (1943–1944). I.S. Mowis at IMDb: "Few actors ever managed a complete image transition as thoroughly as did Dick Powell: in his case, from the boyish, wavy-haired crooner in musicals to rugged crime fighters in films noir." By 1944, Powell felt he was too old to play romantic leading men anymore. Still dissatisfied with lightweight roles, Powell lobbied hard to get the lead in Double Indemnity. He lost out to Fred MacMurray, another Hollywood nice guy. MacMurray's success, however, fueled Powell's resolve to pursue projects with greater range. Instead, he was slotted into more of the same fare, refused to comply and was suspended. Powell tried his luck at RKO and at last managed to secure a lucrative role: that of hard-boiled private eye Philip Marlowe in Raymond Chandler's Murder, My Sweet (Edward Dmytryk, 1944). He was the first actor to play Marlowe – by name – in motion pictures. Hollywood had previously adapted some Marlowe novels, but with the lead character changed. Later, Powell was the first actor to play Marlowe on radio, in 1944 and 1945, and on television, in an episode of Climax! (1954). Murder My Sweet was a big hit. Bosley Crowther in the New York Times: " ...and while he may lack the steely coldness and cynicism of a Humphrey Bogart, Mr. Powell need not offer any apologies. He has definitely stepped out of the song-and-dance, pretty-boy league with this performance". Powell had successfully reinvented himself as a dramatic actor. His career changed dramatically: he was cast in a series of Films Noirs. On the radio, Powell played detective Richard Rogue in the series Rogue's Gallery beginning in 1945. On screen, Dmytryk and Powell reteamed to make the film Cornered (Edward Dmytryk, 1945), a gripping, post-World War II thriller that helped define the Film Noir style. For Columbia, he played a detective in Johnny O'Clock (Robert Rossen, 1947) and made To the Ends of the Earth (Robert Stevenson, 1948) with Signe Hasso. In 1948, he stepped out of the brutish type when he starred in Pitfall (André De Toth, 1948), a Film Noir in which a bored insurance company worker falls for an innocent but dangerous woman, played by Lizabeth Scott. He broadened his range appearing in a Western, Station West (Sidney Lanfield, 1948), and a French Foreign Legion tale, Rogues' Regiment (Robert Florey, 1949) with Marta Toren. He was a Mountie in Mrs. Mike (Louis King, 1950). From 1949 to 1953, Powell played the lead role in the NBC radio theater production Richard Diamond, Private Detective. His character in the 30-minute weekly was a likable private detective with a quick wit. Many episodes were written by Blake Edwards and many ended with Detective Diamond having an excuse to sing a little song to his date.

 

Dick Powell took a break from tough-guy roles in The Reformer and the Redhead (Melvin Frank, Norman Panama, 1950), opposite his new wife June Allyson. Then it was back to tougher movies: Cry Danger (Robert Parrish, 1951), as an ex con; and The Tall Target (Anthony Mann, 1951), as a detective who tries to prevent the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He returned to comedy with You Never Can Tell (Lou Breslow, 1951). He had a good role as best-selling novelist James Lee Bartlow in the popular melodrama, The Bad and the Beautiful (Vincente Minnelli, 1952). His final film performance was in a romantic comedy Susan Slept Here (1954) for director Frank Tashlin. Even when he appeared in lighter fare such as Susan Slept Here (Frank Tashlin, 1954), he never sang in his later roles. It was his final onscreen appearance in a feature film, and included a dance number with co-star Debbie Reynolds. By this stage Powell had turned director. His feature debut was Split Second (1953) with Stephen McNally and Alexis Smith. He followed it with The Conqueror (1956), coproduced by Howard Hughes starring John Wayne as Genghis Khan. The exterior scenes were filmed in St. George, Utah, downwind of U.S. above-ground atomic tests. The cast and crew totaled 220, and of that number, 91 had developed some form of cancer by 1981, and 46 had died of cancer by then, including Powell and Wayne. He directed Allyson opposite Jack Lemmon in You Can't Run Away from It (1956). Powell then made two war films at Fox with Robert Mitchum, The Enemy Below (1957) and The Hunters (1958). In the 1950s, Powell was one of the founders of Four Star Television, along with Charles Boyer, David Niven, and Ida Lupino. He appeared in and supervised several shows for that company. Powell played the role of Willie Dante in episodes of Four Star Playhouse, and guest-starred in numerous Four Star programs. Shortly before his death, Powell sang on camera for the final time in a guest-star appearance on Four Star's Ensign O'Toole, singing 'The Song of the Marines', which he first sang in his film The Singing Marine (Ray Enright, 1937). He hosted and occasionally starred in his Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater on CBS from 1956–1961, and his final anthology series, The Dick Powell Show on NBC from 1961 through 1963; after his death, the series continued through the end of its second season (as The Dick Powell Theater), with guest hosts. He married three times: Mildred Evelyn Maund (1925-1932), Joan Blondell (1936-1944) and June Allyson ( 1945, until his death in 1963). He adopted Joan Blondell's son from a previous marriage, Norman Powell, who later became a television producer; the couple also had one child together, Ellen Powell. He had two children with Allyson, Pamela (adopted) and Richard 'Dick' Powell, Jr. Powell's ranch-style house was used for exterior filming on the ABC TV series, Hart to Hart. Powell was a friend of Hart to Hart actor Robert Wagner and producer Aaron Spelling. In 1962, Powell acknowledged rumors that he was undergoing treatment for cancer. The disease was originally diagnosed as an allergy, with Powell first experiencing symptoms while traveling East to promote his program. Upon his return to California, Powell's personal physician conducted tests and found malignant tumors on his neck and chest. Powell died at the age of 58 in 1963. His body was cremated and his remains were interred in the Columbarium of Honor at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California. In The Day of the Locust (1975), Powell was portrayed by his son Dick Powell Jr.

 

Sources: I.S. Mowis (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

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