Wednesday, August 29, 2001
Dr. Paranoia sees a bright future
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
Dr. Paranoia sees a brightening potential ahead of us
For the neighbor who are distressed by the continuing escalation of Palestinian terrorist suicide attacks and Israel's ever harsher responses, by the Gramercy Park revelations and by our President's policies, Dr. Paranoia brings new hopes. The President and the Texas Senator Kay Bailey
Hutchinson both insist that the Palestinian terrorism must stop, and you know how strong-minded those Texans are..Parenthetically, the Arabs should realize that now they have gone too far,
with the bombing of a pizza parlor in Tel Aviv, potentially bringing a new powerful
participant into the war. Sicilians are even tougher than Texans. The best news is that Germany’s Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer wants to shepherd new pace talks, in Berlin. A former pro-Palestinian New Left guerrilla himself, he had his epiphany in 1976 when the German kidnappers at Entebbe decreed that the Jewish hostages would be killed. That smacked of Hitler, and Fisher, after reproaching Arafat, changed his direction. Alas, some pesky Germans still distrust his rebirth Come, who knows terrorists better than a former colleague.
Further upbeat news in Macedonia - the major Albanian parties have agreed to
disarm their fighters, if this is done under the supervision of NATO. All that remains is a detail,- convincing the minor Albanian parties and the Kosovar interlopers, and determining how many weapons will be turned in. Unfortunately, the distrusting Macedonians feel that 3,500 of 80,000 guns is somewhat inadequate.
In North Ireland, something positive. A general of the IRA has declared
his willingness to disarm the militants. But the pesky Protestants are
not satisfied, and will not accept the peace until some real arms have been
surrendered. There's always a spoiler. Of course, Ireland has its own
problems. The one million Irish voters have rejected the European Union
treaty that will add 500 million members to EU, in 12 nations, helping to
build brotherhood and peace and avoid wars. The Irish voters don't want
poor nations in, such as might need help, forgetting that Erin for years
survived with the $25 billion of aid of the 14 other member nations. That's good
thinking, supposing we be needing assistance again?
Incredibly, the Indians and Pakistanis have spoken to each other, for the first
time in decades. The Pakistani leader is hopeful, but the Indian leader, speaking on
India's Independence Day behind a bullet-proof shield, claims that it is
hopeless to have meetings. All that the man from Islamabad wants to talk
about is Kashmir, Kashmir, Kashmir...
Locally, good news, gasoline is down to $1.39 a gallon. And we were
worrying about an energy crisis. Silly us. Of course OPEC is cutting down
on production by 4 percent, a million barrels a day, to bring the numbers
back to a high profit level, but there are plenty of smugglers. Iraq will
keep the oil gushing, and save the day.
A victory for the environmentalists, Secretary Christine Todd Whitman has
determined that the Hudson must be dredged, above Albany, to get rid of
200,000 lbs of PCBs in the silt. No word of where the contaminated silt
will be deposited, so as not to poison arable land and agricultural
products. But they have not heard the last from GE - the upstate locals
are protesting about the stirred up river bed . Guess which corporation
helps them with a wee bit of PR and ad money. Governor George Pataki is happy,
his pressure persuaded Washington to act. Don't expect him to push around
the recalcitrant upstaters as well.
And the NYS budget has been passed, relatively early. But do not expect
anyone to be happy about it, supplementary budgets will be needed, and no
one can plan with such a moving target. But. a first, nevertheless, no matter how wrongheaded...
The Supreme Court of the US had another problem. First, they decided who
would be the President of the US in 2001, an action that seems
unconstitutional, but since they are the ultimate authorities on the
Constitution... More recently, a tied vote had caused a man to be scheduled for execution, for a
crime he committed while still a juvenile (fortunately, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, of all people, bailed the Supremes out). Tied, in my book, means to go back
and reexamine, re-judge However, since they write the book.
More good bits. Chandra Condit is momentarily off the front pages (did i speak too soon?).. Michael Bloomberg is nearly off the front pages. And there are jobs - 37 of the 51 New
York City Council seats are open, due to term limits. It's a good income, $90k a year, tens of thousands of dollars to apportion to causes of your choice, no experience required. In eight years you can build up connections that will assure you of an excellent post-councilmanic career. Ethnicity is a plus - this is a lethargic election, and a turnout of your landsmen can swing you in.. Thanks, Ronald Lauder, for your gift of term limits to NYC.
Meanwhile, happy Labor Day weekend to all readers, do not go out in the midday sun, watch out for mosquitoes and
West Nile fever, stay away from bushes, high grass and Lyme disease ticks.
Watch out for sharks in the ocean and drink plenty of water, but do not
swallow the stuff if you are swimming in a algae-infested lake. If the President should happen to catch this - he is doing the right thing in staying out of international forces and active participation in Israel, no mattr what the Muslim states request. That’s deep you-know-what country, to quote G.H.W. Bush.
Dr. Paranoia suggests that any racial, ethnic and religious groups blaming him for inadequate representation, good or bad, write to the Editor of this newspaper (or any other newspaper, activism is good for the soul). However, this column needs correspondence, for job security. Sometimes it is very lonely in the tower, while the all the good writers are busy bashing Met Life.
Dr. Paranoia sees a brightening potential ahead of us
For the neighbor who are distressed by the continuing escalation of Palestinian terrorist suicide attacks and Israel's ever harsher responses, by the Gramercy Park revelations and by our President's policies, Dr. Paranoia brings new hopes. The President and the Texas Senator Kay Bailey
Hutchinson both insist that the Palestinian terrorism must stop, and you know how strong-minded those Texans are..Parenthetically, the Arabs should realize that now they have gone too far,
with the bombing of a pizza parlor in Tel Aviv, potentially bringing a new powerful
participant into the war. Sicilians are even tougher than Texans. The best news is that Germany’s Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer wants to shepherd new pace talks, in Berlin. A former pro-Palestinian New Left guerrilla himself, he had his epiphany in 1976 when the German kidnappers at Entebbe decreed that the Jewish hostages would be killed. That smacked of Hitler, and Fisher, after reproaching Arafat, changed his direction. Alas, some pesky Germans still distrust his rebirth Come, who knows terrorists better than a former colleague.
Further upbeat news in Macedonia - the major Albanian parties have agreed to
disarm their fighters, if this is done under the supervision of NATO. All that remains is a detail,- convincing the minor Albanian parties and the Kosovar interlopers, and determining how many weapons will be turned in. Unfortunately, the distrusting Macedonians feel that 3,500 of 80,000 guns is somewhat inadequate.
In North Ireland, something positive. A general of the IRA has declared
his willingness to disarm the militants. But the pesky Protestants are
not satisfied, and will not accept the peace until some real arms have been
surrendered. There's always a spoiler. Of course, Ireland has its own
problems. The one million Irish voters have rejected the European Union
treaty that will add 500 million members to EU, in 12 nations, helping to
build brotherhood and peace and avoid wars. The Irish voters don't want
poor nations in, such as might need help, forgetting that Erin for years
survived with the $25 billion of aid of the 14 other member nations. That's good
thinking, supposing we be needing assistance again?
Incredibly, the Indians and Pakistanis have spoken to each other, for the first
time in decades. The Pakistani leader is hopeful, but the Indian leader, speaking on
India's Independence Day behind a bullet-proof shield, claims that it is
hopeless to have meetings. All that the man from Islamabad wants to talk
about is Kashmir, Kashmir, Kashmir...
Locally, good news, gasoline is down to $1.39 a gallon. And we were
worrying about an energy crisis. Silly us. Of course OPEC is cutting down
on production by 4 percent, a million barrels a day, to bring the numbers
back to a high profit level, but there are plenty of smugglers. Iraq will
keep the oil gushing, and save the day.
A victory for the environmentalists, Secretary Christine Todd Whitman has
determined that the Hudson must be dredged, above Albany, to get rid of
200,000 lbs of PCBs in the silt. No word of where the contaminated silt
will be deposited, so as not to poison arable land and agricultural
products. But they have not heard the last from GE - the upstate locals
are protesting about the stirred up river bed . Guess which corporation
helps them with a wee bit of PR and ad money. Governor George Pataki is happy,
his pressure persuaded Washington to act. Don't expect him to push around
the recalcitrant upstaters as well.
And the NYS budget has been passed, relatively early. But do not expect
anyone to be happy about it, supplementary budgets will be needed, and no
one can plan with such a moving target. But. a first, nevertheless, no matter how wrongheaded...
The Supreme Court of the US had another problem. First, they decided who
would be the President of the US in 2001, an action that seems
unconstitutional, but since they are the ultimate authorities on the
Constitution... More recently, a tied vote had caused a man to be scheduled for execution, for a
crime he committed while still a juvenile (fortunately, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, of all people, bailed the Supremes out). Tied, in my book, means to go back
and reexamine, re-judge However, since they write the book.
More good bits. Chandra Condit is momentarily off the front pages (did i speak too soon?).. Michael Bloomberg is nearly off the front pages. And there are jobs - 37 of the 51 New
York City Council seats are open, due to term limits. It's a good income, $90k a year, tens of thousands of dollars to apportion to causes of your choice, no experience required. In eight years you can build up connections that will assure you of an excellent post-councilmanic career. Ethnicity is a plus - this is a lethargic election, and a turnout of your landsmen can swing you in.. Thanks, Ronald Lauder, for your gift of term limits to NYC.
Meanwhile, happy Labor Day weekend to all readers, do not go out in the midday sun, watch out for mosquitoes and
West Nile fever, stay away from bushes, high grass and Lyme disease ticks.
Watch out for sharks in the ocean and drink plenty of water, but do not
swallow the stuff if you are swimming in a algae-infested lake. If the President should happen to catch this - he is doing the right thing in staying out of international forces and active participation in Israel, no mattr what the Muslim states request. That’s deep you-know-what country, to quote G.H.W. Bush.
Dr. Paranoia suggests that any racial, ethnic and religious groups blaming him for inadequate representation, good or bad, write to the Editor of this newspaper (or any other newspaper, activism is good for the soul). However, this column needs correspondence, for job security. Sometimes it is very lonely in the tower, while the all the good writers are busy bashing Met Life.
Thursday, August 23, 2001
Revisiting old movies, classics and otherwise
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
Summer should be fun time . On the heels of a poetry piece, a reader suggested one of famous lines from movies. He is a Godfather fan, and provided the seed capital. Mafia characters are natural philosophers: Take "I don't like violence. I'm a businessman. Blood is a big expense." Can you beat that for expression of principle? Or: "Leave the gun. Take the cannolis," fat Clemenza’s peacekeeping advice. Here are the gems from Don Corleone himself, the now overused "I'm gonna make him an offer he cannot refuse," to Johnny Fontane about Woltz. And "A lawyer with a briefcase can steal more than a hundred men with guns." Thesarcasm can be devastating: "And if by any chance an honest man like you should make enemies, they will become my enemies too." You can just about hear Marlon Brando hoarsely whispering the words. More Brando? "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender," Terry Malloy On the Waterfront, and "Stelaa! Stellaa!" Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Changing intonations: German accent underscores the heavy-handed "I'll be back" and the murderous "Hasta la vista, baby" of the Terminator, Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Stepping away from the killers, let me tell you that I’ve been polling friends for favorite movie lines. Most of the ones quoted are from someone’s memory, therefore do not expect exact wording. The most popular are, still, the classics, in the pre-x generations, anyway. The top selection? The remembered seductive smile and a pose struck in the doorway of the boat: "You know how to whistle, don’t you? Just put your lips together and blow." That was Lauren Bacall, 19 years old, to Bogey in To Have and Have Not .
Casablanca is the most quoted movie, has never been surpassed in dry wit. "I am shocked, shocked that gambling is going on here," Claude Rains as Capt. Renault says with a straight face while accepting his winnings from the croupier. Incidentally, the line preceding his "Round up the usual suspects" is the explanation: "Major Strasser has been shot."
This response impressed Bogart’s Rick enough to admit: "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" as they walked off the set and the movie. Rick’s "Here’s looking at you, kid " to Ingrid Bergman’s Ilse and "Play it Sam, if she can take it, so can I" (usually misstated as "Play it again, Sam") are overused. To hear the pure Bogart, take his answers to the German interrogator: "I came here for the waters." "Vaters, what vaters? . Ve are in the desert!" "I was misinformed."
Let’s lot leave Rick’s American Cafe without hearing Sidney Greenstreet: "I don't buy or sell humans." is a declaration of principle that fits character (as does his "by gad, sir, you are a character," from The Maltese Falcon).
A different Bogart and Catherine Hepburn had some encounters in the African Queen:" Well, I ain’t sorry no more, you crazy skinny psalm-singing old maid," but they got together, to the final moment when Hepburn uttered the ultimate lover’s line, asking the German captain as a last request: "Would you hang us together, please?"
Hepburn’s thin figure elicited more than one comment: "There ain’t much meat on her but what there is is cherce," Spencer Tracy in Woman of the Year. "The calla lilies are in bloom again," Hepburn’s girlish enthusiasm in "Philadelphia Story" is memorable in context, truly cherce. More Tracy; his simple heroic "Don’ let the kids see me," in Captains Courageous gains stature when one realizes that it was uttered with the hero mortally injured.
More one-liners conjure pictures: "The name is Bond, James Bond" can only be Sean Connery; "Rosebud...Rosebud.." spoken by Orson Wells as Charles Foster Kane; Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver: "Ya talkin' to me?"
Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry Callahan had a real monologue: "I know what you're thinking: did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, I kinda lost track in all this excitement. But being this is a 44 Magnum, the most powerful gun, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?" Overused is "Go ahead, make my day."
Gunga Din had Victor McLaglen, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, and a drunken Gary Cooper with : "Out of my way, I'm an expedition" and "You’re all under arrest," the latter to the assembled thuggee, with Eduardo Cianelli leading the shouts of "Kaliii!" But Sam Jaffe's Gunga Din saved the day, "The Colonel's got to know." For more Gary Cooper, remember High Noon, the background music to the sheriff's lonely walk: "Do not forsake me, oh my darlin'." The doomed lovers Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman (Robert Jordan and Maria) in For Whom the Bell Tolls saw the earth move (credit Hemingway), while Akim Tamiroff as Pablo immortalized "I do not provoke." He and Katina Paxinou’s Pilar won Oscars in 1943.More old Cooper? :"Frankly my dear I don't give a damn,".to Vivien Leigh in GWTW
This is a joyful subject, people keep calling with more remembered lines. There will be more columns, as time goes by. Feel free to write or call.
I should like to dedicate this article to Dr. Charles Crandall, active physician, environmentalist and humanitarian, on the anniversary of Japan’s surrender on August 14, 1945.. On that day, young Lt. Com. Crandall was in charge of a flotilla of 12 rocket launcher ships steaming towards the Bay of Tokyo, protecting a group of battleships from the perils.of the sea, and making sure that none of his 1,500 young salts, to whom he was the "old man," would get blown up while shooting at the stray mines. None were lost. Banzai, Charles!
Summer should be fun time . On the heels of a poetry piece, a reader suggested one of famous lines from movies. He is a Godfather fan, and provided the seed capital. Mafia characters are natural philosophers: Take "I don't like violence. I'm a businessman. Blood is a big expense." Can you beat that for expression of principle? Or: "Leave the gun. Take the cannolis," fat Clemenza’s peacekeeping advice. Here are the gems from Don Corleone himself, the now overused "I'm gonna make him an offer he cannot refuse," to Johnny Fontane about Woltz. And "A lawyer with a briefcase can steal more than a hundred men with guns." Thesarcasm can be devastating: "And if by any chance an honest man like you should make enemies, they will become my enemies too." You can just about hear Marlon Brando hoarsely whispering the words. More Brando? "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender," Terry Malloy On the Waterfront, and "Stelaa! Stellaa!" Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Changing intonations: German accent underscores the heavy-handed "I'll be back" and the murderous "Hasta la vista, baby" of the Terminator, Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Stepping away from the killers, let me tell you that I’ve been polling friends for favorite movie lines. Most of the ones quoted are from someone’s memory, therefore do not expect exact wording. The most popular are, still, the classics, in the pre-x generations, anyway. The top selection? The remembered seductive smile and a pose struck in the doorway of the boat: "You know how to whistle, don’t you? Just put your lips together and blow." That was Lauren Bacall, 19 years old, to Bogey in To Have and Have Not .
Casablanca is the most quoted movie, has never been surpassed in dry wit. "I am shocked, shocked that gambling is going on here," Claude Rains as Capt. Renault says with a straight face while accepting his winnings from the croupier. Incidentally, the line preceding his "Round up the usual suspects" is the explanation: "Major Strasser has been shot."
This response impressed Bogart’s Rick enough to admit: "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" as they walked off the set and the movie. Rick’s "Here’s looking at you, kid " to Ingrid Bergman’s Ilse and "Play it Sam, if she can take it, so can I" (usually misstated as "Play it again, Sam") are overused. To hear the pure Bogart, take his answers to the German interrogator: "I came here for the waters." "Vaters, what vaters? . Ve are in the desert!" "I was misinformed."
Let’s lot leave Rick’s American Cafe without hearing Sidney Greenstreet: "I don't buy or sell humans." is a declaration of principle that fits character (as does his "by gad, sir, you are a character," from The Maltese Falcon).
A different Bogart and Catherine Hepburn had some encounters in the African Queen:" Well, I ain’t sorry no more, you crazy skinny psalm-singing old maid," but they got together, to the final moment when Hepburn uttered the ultimate lover’s line, asking the German captain as a last request: "Would you hang us together, please?"
Hepburn’s thin figure elicited more than one comment: "There ain’t much meat on her but what there is is cherce," Spencer Tracy in Woman of the Year. "The calla lilies are in bloom again," Hepburn’s girlish enthusiasm in "Philadelphia Story" is memorable in context, truly cherce. More Tracy; his simple heroic "Don’ let the kids see me," in Captains Courageous gains stature when one realizes that it was uttered with the hero mortally injured.
More one-liners conjure pictures: "The name is Bond, James Bond" can only be Sean Connery; "Rosebud...Rosebud.." spoken by Orson Wells as Charles Foster Kane; Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver: "Ya talkin' to me?"
Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry Callahan had a real monologue: "I know what you're thinking: did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, I kinda lost track in all this excitement. But being this is a 44 Magnum, the most powerful gun, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?" Overused is "Go ahead, make my day."
Gunga Din had Victor McLaglen, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, and a drunken Gary Cooper with : "Out of my way, I'm an expedition" and "You’re all under arrest," the latter to the assembled thuggee, with Eduardo Cianelli leading the shouts of "Kaliii!" But Sam Jaffe's Gunga Din saved the day, "The Colonel's got to know." For more Gary Cooper, remember High Noon, the background music to the sheriff's lonely walk: "Do not forsake me, oh my darlin'." The doomed lovers Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman (Robert Jordan and Maria) in For Whom the Bell Tolls saw the earth move (credit Hemingway), while Akim Tamiroff as Pablo immortalized "I do not provoke." He and Katina Paxinou’s Pilar won Oscars in 1943.More old Cooper? :"Frankly my dear I don't give a damn,".to Vivien Leigh in GWTW
This is a joyful subject, people keep calling with more remembered lines. There will be more columns, as time goes by. Feel free to write or call.
I should like to dedicate this article to Dr. Charles Crandall, active physician, environmentalist and humanitarian, on the anniversary of Japan’s surrender on August 14, 1945.. On that day, young Lt. Com. Crandall was in charge of a flotilla of 12 rocket launcher ships steaming towards the Bay of Tokyo, protecting a group of battleships from the perils.of the sea, and making sure that none of his 1,500 young salts, to whom he was the "old man," would get blown up while shooting at the stray mines. None were lost. Banzai, Charles!
Sunday, August 19, 2001
Would you believe Get Smart is back?
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
If your answer is "no," how about wall-to-wall reruns?
I believe in predestination, fate and branding. Therefore, having been simultaneously exposed to waves of "Get Smart" Visa advertisements on the Internet and round -the-clock reruns of the venerable series on the TVLand Channel, it seems incumbent upon me to revisit the fondly remembered old war horse.
For the Gen X babies, Get Smart was a 1965-70 spy spoof TV series invented by Mel Brooks, assisted by the TV script man Buck Henry, himself a considerable humorist (Gary Moore’s and Steve Allen’s writer). It was so ordained by Don Melnick, Leonard Stern and Davis Susskind of Talent Associates, to cash in on the James Bond and related spy crazes of the times. Henry was to ride herd on Brooks, an undisciplined genius full of inventions and ideas, and to corral the good ones. Brooks gladly complied, since he needed the pay to finance The Producers. The result was a fun series.
Smart, the clumsy spy with the telephone in his shoe, was played by Don Adams, a standup comedian reared on the principles of vaudeville, and a major contributor of routines. The beautiful pouty Barbara Feldon, stage name Agent 99, a model and $64,000 Question contestant who used her winnings to help her husband open an art gallery, was a major factor in the success of the series. It gave birth to some catch phrases, part of our language of the ‘60s. Thus, denial. Smart: "Don’t tell me X is a Russian agent!" A: "X is a Russian agent!" S: "I asked you not to tell me!." When cornered by enemy KAOS agents (the series’equivalent of Bond’s SMERSH) Smart blusters: "At this moment we have the entire area surrounded by government troops." K: "I find that hard to believe." S: "Would you believe two agents with a dog?" K: "No." S: "How about a boy with a BB gun?" Smart’s excuse for his incredible blunders, "Sorry about that, Chief," was heard daily, and.became standard shorthand for making light of one’s mistakes. The Chief, the late opera singer Edward Platt, was no mental giant, unlike Fleming’s M, and the organization, Control, was staffed by dunderheads. Smart would hide his ignorance by pretense: "Ah, the old poison pill in the Pinot Grigio trick!" then in an aside "99, what’s Pinot Grigio?"
The Get Smart series lasted for five years on NBC and CBS (1964-70), during which Smart and 99 got married and had a stage baby.. There was an attempt to revive it, but it was assigned to the "death time spot," against 60 Minutes on Sunday nights, and it did not last.
Apart from the stated objective on cashing in on the success of James Bond, Get Smart appears to have had a deeper motivation, reflecting the social criticism of the Vietnam War period. Exposing government blunders was part of the mores of the times, although some fear of McCarthyite type reactions from the legislators and advertisers, potentially deadly to a popular TV comedy series, held back outright criticism.
The 132 or so episodes of Get Smart would attempt to mock popular favorites, books, plays and TV series. The titles of the parodies reflected the sources. The Secret of Sam Vittorio pointed to a popular Italian WWII book. To Sire With Love played off the Alec Guinness movie, as did Greer Window, a Hitchcockian riot, with James Caan guest-starring. Major actors had cameo roles. The Dodgers’ Maury Wills and comedienne Phyllis Diller were popular. When Don Rickles was invited, he and Don Adams ad-libbed extra scenes to the extent that the producers decided to stretch the Little Black Book to two episodes. Tale of Two Tails, Diamonds Are the Spy’s Best Friends, League of Bald-Headed Men, Closely Watched Plans, Valerie of the Dolls, The Treasure of C.Errol Madre, How Green Was My Wallet, I Am Curiously Yellow - these names give a flavor of the parodies’ sources. The Groovy Guru was about a KAOS rock-and-roll wizard, whose melodies captivated Agent 99.The series garnered many Emmys.
Authorship of the episodes varied, the gifted actors, producers and others took a crack at it, besides the regular writers, notably Stan Burns, Mike Marmer, Arnie Sultan, C. F. D’Amoreaux, .Gerald Gardner and Dee Caruso. Don Bilson and Gary Nelson were the early directors. Don Adams wrote for the episodes, as did producers Leonard Stern and Burt Nordella..
Don Adams’ red car, a 1965 Sunbeam Tiger, and the theme music, a catchy tune by Irving Szathmary, the telephone booth that concealed an elevator to the Control basement offices, the Cone Of Silence, where the Control people would meet to avoid eavesdroppers, they all have cult value even today, with a bunch of Internet web sites devoted to the series. The major one, wouldyoubelieve.com, produced by Carl Burkmeyer, known as Chief of Control, rates every episode. The reruns are on the cable TVLand Channel, at 5, 5:30 and 11:30 PM., the 24-hour wall-to-wall marathon is over. Sorry about that, Chief.
If your answer is "no," how about wall-to-wall reruns?
I believe in predestination, fate and branding. Therefore, having been simultaneously exposed to waves of "Get Smart" Visa advertisements on the Internet and round -the-clock reruns of the venerable series on the TVLand Channel, it seems incumbent upon me to revisit the fondly remembered old war horse.
For the Gen X babies, Get Smart was a 1965-70 spy spoof TV series invented by Mel Brooks, assisted by the TV script man Buck Henry, himself a considerable humorist (Gary Moore’s and Steve Allen’s writer). It was so ordained by Don Melnick, Leonard Stern and Davis Susskind of Talent Associates, to cash in on the James Bond and related spy crazes of the times. Henry was to ride herd on Brooks, an undisciplined genius full of inventions and ideas, and to corral the good ones. Brooks gladly complied, since he needed the pay to finance The Producers. The result was a fun series.
Smart, the clumsy spy with the telephone in his shoe, was played by Don Adams, a standup comedian reared on the principles of vaudeville, and a major contributor of routines. The beautiful pouty Barbara Feldon, stage name Agent 99, a model and $64,000 Question contestant who used her winnings to help her husband open an art gallery, was a major factor in the success of the series. It gave birth to some catch phrases, part of our language of the ‘60s. Thus, denial. Smart: "Don’t tell me X is a Russian agent!" A: "X is a Russian agent!" S: "I asked you not to tell me!." When cornered by enemy KAOS agents (the series’equivalent of Bond’s SMERSH) Smart blusters: "At this moment we have the entire area surrounded by government troops." K: "I find that hard to believe." S: "Would you believe two agents with a dog?" K: "No." S: "How about a boy with a BB gun?" Smart’s excuse for his incredible blunders, "Sorry about that, Chief," was heard daily, and.became standard shorthand for making light of one’s mistakes. The Chief, the late opera singer Edward Platt, was no mental giant, unlike Fleming’s M, and the organization, Control, was staffed by dunderheads. Smart would hide his ignorance by pretense: "Ah, the old poison pill in the Pinot Grigio trick!" then in an aside "99, what’s Pinot Grigio?"
The Get Smart series lasted for five years on NBC and CBS (1964-70), during which Smart and 99 got married and had a stage baby.. There was an attempt to revive it, but it was assigned to the "death time spot," against 60 Minutes on Sunday nights, and it did not last.
Apart from the stated objective on cashing in on the success of James Bond, Get Smart appears to have had a deeper motivation, reflecting the social criticism of the Vietnam War period. Exposing government blunders was part of the mores of the times, although some fear of McCarthyite type reactions from the legislators and advertisers, potentially deadly to a popular TV comedy series, held back outright criticism.
The 132 or so episodes of Get Smart would attempt to mock popular favorites, books, plays and TV series. The titles of the parodies reflected the sources. The Secret of Sam Vittorio pointed to a popular Italian WWII book. To Sire With Love played off the Alec Guinness movie, as did Greer Window, a Hitchcockian riot, with James Caan guest-starring. Major actors had cameo roles. The Dodgers’ Maury Wills and comedienne Phyllis Diller were popular. When Don Rickles was invited, he and Don Adams ad-libbed extra scenes to the extent that the producers decided to stretch the Little Black Book to two episodes. Tale of Two Tails, Diamonds Are the Spy’s Best Friends, League of Bald-Headed Men, Closely Watched Plans, Valerie of the Dolls, The Treasure of C.Errol Madre, How Green Was My Wallet, I Am Curiously Yellow - these names give a flavor of the parodies’ sources. The Groovy Guru was about a KAOS rock-and-roll wizard, whose melodies captivated Agent 99.The series garnered many Emmys.
Authorship of the episodes varied, the gifted actors, producers and others took a crack at it, besides the regular writers, notably Stan Burns, Mike Marmer, Arnie Sultan, C. F. D’Amoreaux, .Gerald Gardner and Dee Caruso. Don Bilson and Gary Nelson were the early directors. Don Adams wrote for the episodes, as did producers Leonard Stern and Burt Nordella..
Don Adams’ red car, a 1965 Sunbeam Tiger, and the theme music, a catchy tune by Irving Szathmary, the telephone booth that concealed an elevator to the Control basement offices, the Cone Of Silence, where the Control people would meet to avoid eavesdroppers, they all have cult value even today, with a bunch of Internet web sites devoted to the series. The major one, wouldyoubelieve.com, produced by Carl Burkmeyer, known as Chief of Control, rates every episode. The reruns are on the cable TVLand Channel, at 5, 5:30 and 11:30 PM., the 24-hour wall-to-wall marathon is over. Sorry about that, Chief.
Wednesday, August 08, 2001
Long ago, when poetry was in everyday use
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
..
The other day, for reasons unrelated to this column, I was in a little office lunchtime dispute about the origin of the words of "Wild Dogs and Englishmen," finally incontrovertibly establishing its authorship credits as belonging to Noel Coward rather than Rudyard Kipling. In the course of the discussion, such lines as the one about the old Mulmein pagoda, where the Burma girl is a-yearning for the comeback of ye British soldier, and the racist’s confession, about Gunga Din being a better man than he is, were in contention, and Kipling’s name was properly honored ("On the Road to Mandalay" is the first poem’s title.)
That bought forth more license. The authorship of the immortal rugby poem, for instance (ladies, close your eyes for the balance of the paragraph): "The sexual life of the camel is stranger than anyone thinks. In the moonless nights of Nile Valley he tries to ravish the sphinx. But the sphinx’s dah dumdum dah dumdum is filed with the sands of the Nile, which accounts for the hump on the back of the camel, and the sphinx’s mysterious smile." I gave you the entire masterpiece because the author is an uncopyrighted Anon.
The idea of pulling up good poetry that used to get tossed around at a lunch table (or the bars of my youth) took hold. There is a lot of good stuff, I remembered, in an anthology of best loved poems by David D. Eisenhower, and another, by Scholastica.. Not to be found, though, therefore you will get a partial reconstruct from a failing memory..
Let’s start with the lovers, Andrew Marvel and Richard Lovelace ,who knew it and knew how to say it. In To his coy mistress, Marvel rued that had they but world enough and time he would spend a hundred years to praise her eyes and on her forehead gaze, two hundred more to adore each breast, and thirty thousand more for the rest. Lovelace to Althea pledged that stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, and dreamed of lying tangled in her hair, a freedom that the gods who wanton in the air know not. But a cavalier had more than one woman to idolize. To Lucasta, going to the war, he wrote that he could not love her, dear, so much,.loved he not honor more.. Sad Ernest Dowson lamented things not being the same, in "Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynara," about the shadow that fell last night between her lips and his. He was desolate, and sick of an old passion, and declared, bowing his head, that he had been faithful to her, in his fashion. Robbie Burns saw his love as a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June, and a melody, that’s sweetly played in tune. . .
The lonely ones saw differently. Emily Dickinson felt that the soul selects its own society, then shuts the door. Edward Arlington Robinson’s rich Richard Cory, though, put a bullet through his head..
Now for the hard life of the pioneers. Robert W. Service had the boys whooping it up one night, in a Malemute saloon, when in walked a miner, reeking of bear, and accused the owner, dangerous Dan McGraw, of being a hound of hell. Both men lost, and the winner was the lady who kissed the dying man and stole his poke, the lady that’s known as Lou. If you want to know more of the bad things done under the midnight sun and share the queer sights seen by the Northern Lights that will make your blood turn cold., turn to "The Cremation of Sam McGee," who escaped the cold by dying of fire.
Some poets loved war Virgil’s ethos was Arma virumque cano - I sing of arms and the men. Kipling glorified the time in India’s sunny clime, where his protagonist served her Majesty the Queen. But there was also e. e. cummings’s conscientious objector Olaf, more brave than me more blond than you, who found that there was some excrement he would not eat.
Countrymen. Edgar Guest claimed that it takes a heap of living to make a house a home.. Robert Frost believed that good fences make good neighbors, and that home is where they have to take you in (the full line, from "Death of a Hired Man," is longer). He wrote the one poem that everyone truly knows and quotes, in snatches: I have promises to keep.. whose woods these are I do not know....miles to go before I sleep. We were the land’s before the land was ours is a misquote, reversal of the correct line. T. S. Eliot knew that April is the cruelest month, and so stated at the start of "Waste Land," which ends with the end, Shantih, Shantih, Shantih, from the Upanishads. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is more fun and has witty rhymes: he does not want to ask what is it, and suggests we make a visit, to the women who walk to and fro, talking of...Michelangelo [quality people, no idle dishing here. Today’s nouveaux would call them dullsville.]
Finally aging and Death. Prufrock knew that he was growing old, and would wear his trousers rolled, and that he would put on white flannels and walk in the sand, on the beach, where he’d hear mermaids singing, each to each. Aaah...
Poets tend to die young, though, in wars. Prophetic Alan Seeger had a rendezvous with death, at some disputed barricade, when spring came back with rustling shades and apple blossoms filled the air. But he had his (here a slow iambic drumbeat refrain), when spring brought back blue days and fair. Aaah...Rupert Brooke asks that, if he should die, to think only this of him, that there’s some corner of a foreign land that is forever England. John McCrae speaks of the poppies that grow, between the crosses, row by row, in Flanders field. Joyce Kilmer becries the death of Rupert Brooks in alien land, across a troubled sea, little knowing that his own body, "so fair and young," would share the same WWI fate.
But let’s not get maudlin and be brash, with the help of Ogden Nash, who kept his women barefoot in the winter and pregnant in the summer. He himself celebrated the seasons by being alternately nudist and Buddhist. .A little talcum was always walcum, in case of heat rash, of course, and candy was dandy but liquor was quicquor.
As for William Schwenk Gilbert. I tend to get heavy-handed with snatches of his wit. No catlike thread here, for stealing upon our prey. To explain decline in crime during the summer, I’d reference the suggestion that the enterprising burglar, who has finished burgling and drops the life of crime, loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling and something something something country chime. Sir Joseph Potter, who polished the big brass door so faithfully that now he is the ruler of the Queen’s Navee, was mentioned occasionally, during discussions of office promotions.
. .
Let’s not close with carping, poetry is about life and dreams. Accentuate the positive. Some day we can discuss why Moon River, a poor poem of images strung together by Johnny Mercer, turned to music by Henry Mancini for Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the songwriter’s 1961 Oscar winner sung by Andy Williams and nearly every other balladeer, is such a powerful dream maker. We’ll also do William Shakespeare, another image-maker of note.
..
The other day, for reasons unrelated to this column, I was in a little office lunchtime dispute about the origin of the words of "Wild Dogs and Englishmen," finally incontrovertibly establishing its authorship credits as belonging to Noel Coward rather than Rudyard Kipling. In the course of the discussion, such lines as the one about the old Mulmein pagoda, where the Burma girl is a-yearning for the comeback of ye British soldier, and the racist’s confession, about Gunga Din being a better man than he is, were in contention, and Kipling’s name was properly honored ("On the Road to Mandalay" is the first poem’s title.)
That bought forth more license. The authorship of the immortal rugby poem, for instance (ladies, close your eyes for the balance of the paragraph): "The sexual life of the camel is stranger than anyone thinks. In the moonless nights of Nile Valley he tries to ravish the sphinx. But the sphinx’s dah dumdum dah dumdum is filed with the sands of the Nile, which accounts for the hump on the back of the camel, and the sphinx’s mysterious smile." I gave you the entire masterpiece because the author is an uncopyrighted Anon.
The idea of pulling up good poetry that used to get tossed around at a lunch table (or the bars of my youth) took hold. There is a lot of good stuff, I remembered, in an anthology of best loved poems by David D. Eisenhower, and another, by Scholastica.. Not to be found, though, therefore you will get a partial reconstruct from a failing memory..
Let’s start with the lovers, Andrew Marvel and Richard Lovelace ,who knew it and knew how to say it. In To his coy mistress, Marvel rued that had they but world enough and time he would spend a hundred years to praise her eyes and on her forehead gaze, two hundred more to adore each breast, and thirty thousand more for the rest. Lovelace to Althea pledged that stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, and dreamed of lying tangled in her hair, a freedom that the gods who wanton in the air know not. But a cavalier had more than one woman to idolize. To Lucasta, going to the war, he wrote that he could not love her, dear, so much,.loved he not honor more.. Sad Ernest Dowson lamented things not being the same, in "Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynara," about the shadow that fell last night between her lips and his. He was desolate, and sick of an old passion, and declared, bowing his head, that he had been faithful to her, in his fashion. Robbie Burns saw his love as a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June, and a melody, that’s sweetly played in tune. . .
The lonely ones saw differently. Emily Dickinson felt that the soul selects its own society, then shuts the door. Edward Arlington Robinson’s rich Richard Cory, though, put a bullet through his head..
Now for the hard life of the pioneers. Robert W. Service had the boys whooping it up one night, in a Malemute saloon, when in walked a miner, reeking of bear, and accused the owner, dangerous Dan McGraw, of being a hound of hell. Both men lost, and the winner was the lady who kissed the dying man and stole his poke, the lady that’s known as Lou. If you want to know more of the bad things done under the midnight sun and share the queer sights seen by the Northern Lights that will make your blood turn cold., turn to "The Cremation of Sam McGee," who escaped the cold by dying of fire.
Some poets loved war Virgil’s ethos was Arma virumque cano - I sing of arms and the men. Kipling glorified the time in India’s sunny clime, where his protagonist served her Majesty the Queen. But there was also e. e. cummings’s conscientious objector Olaf, more brave than me more blond than you, who found that there was some excrement he would not eat.
Countrymen. Edgar Guest claimed that it takes a heap of living to make a house a home.. Robert Frost believed that good fences make good neighbors, and that home is where they have to take you in (the full line, from "Death of a Hired Man," is longer). He wrote the one poem that everyone truly knows and quotes, in snatches: I have promises to keep.. whose woods these are I do not know....miles to go before I sleep. We were the land’s before the land was ours is a misquote, reversal of the correct line. T. S. Eliot knew that April is the cruelest month, and so stated at the start of "Waste Land," which ends with the end, Shantih, Shantih, Shantih, from the Upanishads. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is more fun and has witty rhymes: he does not want to ask what is it, and suggests we make a visit, to the women who walk to and fro, talking of...Michelangelo [quality people, no idle dishing here. Today’s nouveaux would call them dullsville.]
Finally aging and Death. Prufrock knew that he was growing old, and would wear his trousers rolled, and that he would put on white flannels and walk in the sand, on the beach, where he’d hear mermaids singing, each to each. Aaah...
Poets tend to die young, though, in wars. Prophetic Alan Seeger had a rendezvous with death, at some disputed barricade, when spring came back with rustling shades and apple blossoms filled the air. But he had his (here a slow iambic drumbeat refrain), when spring brought back blue days and fair. Aaah...Rupert Brooke asks that, if he should die, to think only this of him, that there’s some corner of a foreign land that is forever England. John McCrae speaks of the poppies that grow, between the crosses, row by row, in Flanders field. Joyce Kilmer becries the death of Rupert Brooks in alien land, across a troubled sea, little knowing that his own body, "so fair and young," would share the same WWI fate.
But let’s not get maudlin and be brash, with the help of Ogden Nash, who kept his women barefoot in the winter and pregnant in the summer. He himself celebrated the seasons by being alternately nudist and Buddhist. .A little talcum was always walcum, in case of heat rash, of course, and candy was dandy but liquor was quicquor.
As for William Schwenk Gilbert. I tend to get heavy-handed with snatches of his wit. No catlike thread here, for stealing upon our prey. To explain decline in crime during the summer, I’d reference the suggestion that the enterprising burglar, who has finished burgling and drops the life of crime, loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling and something something something country chime. Sir Joseph Potter, who polished the big brass door so faithfully that now he is the ruler of the Queen’s Navee, was mentioned occasionally, during discussions of office promotions.
. .
Let’s not close with carping, poetry is about life and dreams. Accentuate the positive. Some day we can discuss why Moon River, a poor poem of images strung together by Johnny Mercer, turned to music by Henry Mancini for Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the songwriter’s 1961 Oscar winner sung by Andy Williams and nearly every other balladeer, is such a powerful dream maker. We’ll also do William Shakespeare, another image-maker of note.
Friday, August 03, 2001
Ehrenreich shows how we take advantage of the working poor
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
Barbara Ehrenreich, a 50-something sociologist living near Key West, a PhD in biology with a dozen books to her credit, in 1998 embarked on a 2-year odyssey, to test how women - unmarried, married, and single parents - survive while working at poverty-level jobs. She left her home and traveled through Florida, Maine and Minnesota, pretending to be a homemaker returning to the work force, and taking jobs paying $6 and $7 an hour ($12,400 to $14,560 a year), as a waitress, office and home cleaner, nursing home attendant and a Wal-Mart sales clerk, drawing observations about her co-workers, employers and environment. She was particularly interested in determining how the four million women pushed into the labor market by welfare reform would fare, earning a minimum wage at $5.15 an hour ($2.13 in jobs with tips). The result is a thought-provoking book ,"Nickel and Dimed; on (Not) Getting by in America" (Metropolitan Books, N.Y. 2001).
How well do I remember "Down and out in Paris and London," George Orwell’s descent into the 1930s underworld of dishwashing and other poverty jobs open to the unskilled and pitiful. Bad as the US equivalent is, by comparison we are living in a world of progress and almost-care.
For one, there are low-scale jobs available, and we have a minimum wage law. The middle class needs underpaid minions to cater to their amenities, whether they are the Mexican illegals who keep the prices of vegetables down, or the Asian and Latin American non-union street and building repair workers, or the women Ehrenreich knows. Survival is possible, although not with dignity.
The author is particularly offended by the employment process. Job applications at Winn-Dixie and Wal-Mart ask trick questions: "Do you think the safety on the job is management’s responsibility?" and "Would you turn in a fellow employee if you caught him stealing?" and want the prospect’s opinion on such statements as "Some people work better when they are a little high," and "Marijuana is the same as drink." In the poverty job market the turnover is high (people get tired of the job, are fired, drift, suffer injuries), and employers will collect applications without a job in sight, in the expectation that one will come soon. The process is undignified, the applicants often have to take supervised urine tests to catch marijuana users (traces of cocaine, speed and heroin dissipate fast). Job seekers waste a lot of time running from one interview to the next. .
As for the money, the author soon found out that in Key West, earning $1,039 a month, she was spending $517 for food, and could not find living quarters near her work for less than $675 a month In Portland, Maine living was easier, of her $1,200 a month earnings she spent $480 on rent. In both places she had part-time second jobs. In Minneapolis, earning $1,120 a month at a Wal-Mart, she could have survived with an additional weekend job, staying at a$19 a night dormitory.
The living quarters were bad, mostly motels with the specter of addicts and thieves as neighbors, "trailer trash had become a demographic category to aspire to." Her nutrition was unhealthy, after a long day’s exhausting work junk food was the easiest to get. A restaurant employer offered $2 burgers and BLT sandwiches to waitresses, a good deal (and you thought food servers ate for free!), although by night-time hunger often struck. A hot plate in her room was the solution, for cooking up huge lentil stews, to be frozen for the week ahead (this required $30 invested at the Kmart in cookware).But she was amazed at the kindness and compassion shown by the poor women she worked with - a waitress would dip into her tip money to buy a meal for a hard-up mechanic, fresh out of surgery (health insurance was non-existent, or limited, and would kick in after three or so months of employment), another co-worker would offer to put the author up with her family
Ehrenreich survived, because she was healthy, had allocated $1,300 as startup money, good for rent deposits (an impossible luxury for most hand-to-mouth living people, who had to pay weekly rates), and a junk rental car, allowing her to live less expensively, thirty minutes away from the job sit. On the way she could listen to Marianne Faithfull and Enigma on her car’s tape player. In the room she would have a midnight snack of Wheat Thins, Monterey Jack and cheap white wine on ice, and listen to Public Radio..
What are Ehrenreich’s conclusions? To begin with, housing costs have risen too high (29 percent of the average income in 1960s vs. 37 now; while food dropped from 24 percent to 16). Further, while the poverty level of family income is $17,230, .with the good news that only 13 percent of Americans are living below that, for the bottom decile (10 percent) of workers the wages are below 1973 level, at 91 percent, although they have risen from $5.49 to $6.05 an hour in 1996-99. The eighth decile ($20/hour) is up to 106.6 percent since 1973, although productivity has risen much faster. Third, employers resist wage increases, unfairly. Poor people differ from the "economic man," having limited mobility (e.g. they are dependent on car lifts and public transportation), and limited information (ah, the dumbing down of America, not mentioned by Ehrenreich). Keeping one’s income figures private, specified by the NLRA (1935) enforced by all employers, for obvious reasons, fuzzes the inequities over..
What income level is adequate? Ehrenreich quotes the Economic Policy Institute, which currently defines a "living wage" as $30,000 a year for a family of one adult and two children, roughly $14/hour. Some 60 percent of Americans live below that level. The author realistically admits that upping the minimum wages radically would drive employers into bankruptcy (parenthetically, not so the Naderite Greens, who advocate $12 an hour), but would like the nation to recognize that we are facing a state of emergency for the poor, blissfully or deliberately ignored by all (a "conspiracy of silence," per Ehrenreich).
Ehrenreich is rightfully bringing unpleasant truths to the nation’s attention. How is it that Americans manage to cope, realistically? Having observed the lives of the rural poor for 20 years, I have some personal experiences to impart. The families upstate, my neighbors, have typically two or more jobs, one at low pay, to earn health insurance (government, Post Office, railroad, manufacturing, some Wal-Mart type retail), another with better income but seasonal (construction). Owning or inheriting homes, or living with the family, albeit temporarily, deals with the housing cost dilemma, although population growth dooms us all. And then there are the trailer parks, $675/month for furnished, or $400/month for space to put down your own single- or double-width. Most men here know how to build a simple house, pour cement, frame it, bring in friends to help raise the walls. Professionals are needed only to install electricity and heating and dig the well. Two minimum income jobs ($21,424/year) in the family are often deemed adequate, when the housing is not the killer cost. Farm workers eke out a living with free board, home grown food and deer hunting. These are the costs of living close to nature, away from the maddening crowd. Regrettable, this idyllic form of existence does not help the welfare mother, nor the city dweller paying for three rooms through the nose, with his lifeblood. But don’t let me depress you, you can tune in to any number of politicians who have positive answers to the problems you and I and Barbara Ehrenreich are struggling with.
Barbara Ehrenreich, a 50-something sociologist living near Key West, a PhD in biology with a dozen books to her credit, in 1998 embarked on a 2-year odyssey, to test how women - unmarried, married, and single parents - survive while working at poverty-level jobs. She left her home and traveled through Florida, Maine and Minnesota, pretending to be a homemaker returning to the work force, and taking jobs paying $6 and $7 an hour ($12,400 to $14,560 a year), as a waitress, office and home cleaner, nursing home attendant and a Wal-Mart sales clerk, drawing observations about her co-workers, employers and environment. She was particularly interested in determining how the four million women pushed into the labor market by welfare reform would fare, earning a minimum wage at $5.15 an hour ($2.13 in jobs with tips). The result is a thought-provoking book ,"Nickel and Dimed; on (Not) Getting by in America" (Metropolitan Books, N.Y. 2001).
How well do I remember "Down and out in Paris and London," George Orwell’s descent into the 1930s underworld of dishwashing and other poverty jobs open to the unskilled and pitiful. Bad as the US equivalent is, by comparison we are living in a world of progress and almost-care.
For one, there are low-scale jobs available, and we have a minimum wage law. The middle class needs underpaid minions to cater to their amenities, whether they are the Mexican illegals who keep the prices of vegetables down, or the Asian and Latin American non-union street and building repair workers, or the women Ehrenreich knows. Survival is possible, although not with dignity.
The author is particularly offended by the employment process. Job applications at Winn-Dixie and Wal-Mart ask trick questions: "Do you think the safety on the job is management’s responsibility?" and "Would you turn in a fellow employee if you caught him stealing?" and want the prospect’s opinion on such statements as "Some people work better when they are a little high," and "Marijuana is the same as drink." In the poverty job market the turnover is high (people get tired of the job, are fired, drift, suffer injuries), and employers will collect applications without a job in sight, in the expectation that one will come soon. The process is undignified, the applicants often have to take supervised urine tests to catch marijuana users (traces of cocaine, speed and heroin dissipate fast). Job seekers waste a lot of time running from one interview to the next. .
As for the money, the author soon found out that in Key West, earning $1,039 a month, she was spending $517 for food, and could not find living quarters near her work for less than $675 a month In Portland, Maine living was easier, of her $1,200 a month earnings she spent $480 on rent. In both places she had part-time second jobs. In Minneapolis, earning $1,120 a month at a Wal-Mart, she could have survived with an additional weekend job, staying at a$19 a night dormitory.
The living quarters were bad, mostly motels with the specter of addicts and thieves as neighbors, "trailer trash had become a demographic category to aspire to." Her nutrition was unhealthy, after a long day’s exhausting work junk food was the easiest to get. A restaurant employer offered $2 burgers and BLT sandwiches to waitresses, a good deal (and you thought food servers ate for free!), although by night-time hunger often struck. A hot plate in her room was the solution, for cooking up huge lentil stews, to be frozen for the week ahead (this required $30 invested at the Kmart in cookware).But she was amazed at the kindness and compassion shown by the poor women she worked with - a waitress would dip into her tip money to buy a meal for a hard-up mechanic, fresh out of surgery (health insurance was non-existent, or limited, and would kick in after three or so months of employment), another co-worker would offer to put the author up with her family
Ehrenreich survived, because she was healthy, had allocated $1,300 as startup money, good for rent deposits (an impossible luxury for most hand-to-mouth living people, who had to pay weekly rates), and a junk rental car, allowing her to live less expensively, thirty minutes away from the job sit. On the way she could listen to Marianne Faithfull and Enigma on her car’s tape player. In the room she would have a midnight snack of Wheat Thins, Monterey Jack and cheap white wine on ice, and listen to Public Radio..
What are Ehrenreich’s conclusions? To begin with, housing costs have risen too high (29 percent of the average income in 1960s vs. 37 now; while food dropped from 24 percent to 16). Further, while the poverty level of family income is $17,230, .with the good news that only 13 percent of Americans are living below that, for the bottom decile (10 percent) of workers the wages are below 1973 level, at 91 percent, although they have risen from $5.49 to $6.05 an hour in 1996-99. The eighth decile ($20/hour) is up to 106.6 percent since 1973, although productivity has risen much faster. Third, employers resist wage increases, unfairly. Poor people differ from the "economic man," having limited mobility (e.g. they are dependent on car lifts and public transportation), and limited information (ah, the dumbing down of America, not mentioned by Ehrenreich). Keeping one’s income figures private, specified by the NLRA (1935) enforced by all employers, for obvious reasons, fuzzes the inequities over..
What income level is adequate? Ehrenreich quotes the Economic Policy Institute, which currently defines a "living wage" as $30,000 a year for a family of one adult and two children, roughly $14/hour. Some 60 percent of Americans live below that level. The author realistically admits that upping the minimum wages radically would drive employers into bankruptcy (parenthetically, not so the Naderite Greens, who advocate $12 an hour), but would like the nation to recognize that we are facing a state of emergency for the poor, blissfully or deliberately ignored by all (a "conspiracy of silence," per Ehrenreich).
Ehrenreich is rightfully bringing unpleasant truths to the nation’s attention. How is it that Americans manage to cope, realistically? Having observed the lives of the rural poor for 20 years, I have some personal experiences to impart. The families upstate, my neighbors, have typically two or more jobs, one at low pay, to earn health insurance (government, Post Office, railroad, manufacturing, some Wal-Mart type retail), another with better income but seasonal (construction). Owning or inheriting homes, or living with the family, albeit temporarily, deals with the housing cost dilemma, although population growth dooms us all. And then there are the trailer parks, $675/month for furnished, or $400/month for space to put down your own single- or double-width. Most men here know how to build a simple house, pour cement, frame it, bring in friends to help raise the walls. Professionals are needed only to install electricity and heating and dig the well. Two minimum income jobs ($21,424/year) in the family are often deemed adequate, when the housing is not the killer cost. Farm workers eke out a living with free board, home grown food and deer hunting. These are the costs of living close to nature, away from the maddening crowd. Regrettable, this idyllic form of existence does not help the welfare mother, nor the city dweller paying for three rooms through the nose, with his lifeblood. But don’t let me depress you, you can tune in to any number of politicians who have positive answers to the problems you and I and Barbara Ehrenreich are struggling with.
