San Diego...Drink It In

Having fun at the Pearl!

Well...I've come back. Life has been really difficult, and a big case has consumed just about every spare moment. Not a whole lot of fun lately, but the hearing has concluded, we're winding down the case, and now I have a little more time for things like telling everyone in the world how to live their lives properly. Hence, the blog. Yeah, HENCE!!

To show you how far back this next one goes, I had planned a two-parter on the Charleston shootings and the Confederate flag, but boy was that ever dreary. Then gay marriage happened, and the Lafayette shootings happened, and Jason Pierre-Paul blew his finger off, and Greece nearly tanked after 3,500 years of being an organized country, the Iran "we're going to pretend you're not still trying to get a nuke anymore and declare victory just like we did in Vietnam" agreement, and the soccer team won some sort of tournament...in the immortal words of Crash Davis, "we're dealing with a lot of shit."

So instead, I want to relate to you a micro-vacation I took in San Diego several weeks ago, before my case truly got out of hand.

"Vacation," you say? Surely not. "Aren't you, like, ALWAYS working?" Yes. Yes, I am. But I decided to join one of our attorneys trying to woo a client in San Diego some weeks ago, and to arrive early and stay after to get SOME sort of time off. I originally intended to head out to LA and spend a long July Fourth weekend north of the city, seeing sights like the Getty, Reagan Museum, and even Santa Barbara. Then I would head south to San Diego for work purposes. But work reared its ugly head, and stopped that plan dead in its tracks as I couldn't get out of town, because of course it did.

So instead, I salvaged the San Diego leg of the trip and added some time before and after the meetings.

I wasn't really too excited about doing so; I'd been in San Diego before and they were experiencing abnormally hot weather. Because they're not set up with air conditioning as we southerners expect, at times that trip more resembled a death march than a relaxing time away. But I located one of those hip and somewhat trendy, but not smug about it, places I like to stay. The Pearl Hotel is a reconditioned/remodeled old roadside motor hotel. About 15-20 units, a pool, a small bar, and a restaurant, all built to resemble 1966, right down to the shag carpeting, "mod" light fixtures, and minimalist LBJ-era furniture. Basically it was like going to one of my Aunts' houses as a kid. But having a bigger room.

So Monday I took a mid-day nonstop and landed in the San Diego airport, which as it turns out is right in the middle of downtown. I remember Robert Mueller Airport, Austin's airport until about 10 years ago, being located not far from downtown, but honestly, San Diego plopped its airport right in the middle of everything. Jets scream overhead downtown on approach to the airport. And the landing angle is noticeably steep, like its Maverick landing on an aircraft carrier. I've complained about the Denver and Kansas City airports located incredibly far outside those respective cities, but at least if there's any mishaps there, you don't take several downtown high rises out along with it.

The Pearl is located in Point Loma, about a 10 minute drive from the airport. Normally the neighborhood within 10 minutes of a major city airport resembles Fallujah or Stalingrad or Del Valle, but Point Loma is quite attractive. A peninsula with great inland heights (giving fantastic bay and ocean views), it features a mix of reconditioned 1950s and 60s small homes and some truly ostentatious California dot com millionaire estates. Nothing approaching some of the monstrosities I've seen in LA, of course, but very upscale. Yet, Point Loma also has a kind of Austin feel in a way. Rosecrans Drive, the main street in town, has a Winchell's Donuts, a "Better Buzz Coffee," several diners and pubs, in addition to some upscale places. The Navy owns most of the rest of the peninsula, on down to the Cabrillo National Monument and the old Point Loma Lighthouse.

Point Loma Lighthouse

After the young, friendly woman at the counter helped me check in, I had a late lunch across the street at the Brigantine, a local quasi-chain. I had a very healthy grilled haddock with green beans and a taste of mashed potatoes. Then I went back to the Pearl, got settled, and headed out to the Monument. You pass through a pretty large Naval installation, and then the historic Fort Rosecrans cemetery. I didn't stop but it covered a great expanse. Those symmetrical rows of white tombstones always evoke a certain sadness mixed with gratitude and respect for those veterans, many of whom died in action for our country. Eventually one reaches the tip of the peninsula, the Cabrillo National Monument. This area commemorates where the Spanish explorer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo first sailed into what would become known as San Diego Bay in 1542. The park offers staggering views of San Diego, Coronado Island, and the Pacific Ocean. It also marks the site of the original Point Loma Lighthouse, built in the 1850s and which served until the 1890s. Turns out it was too high above sea level, and fog would often obscure the light. So they light was relocated closer to the water, and the government abandoned the lighthouse. The Park Service acquired it in the 1950s and refurbished it and surrounding buildings. The park also has preserved some of the coastal defense installations from the World War II era. From there one can see the Pacific and the cliffs below.

Balboa Park

After the Cabrillo visit, I headed over to Balboa Park for a run. The Park represents one of the City's original areas, and now hosts a collection of various museums and fantastic old Spanish architecture. One could easily spend an entire day looking through the various museums, and then head right next door to the famous San Diego Zoo. I, however, was interested only in running the park today. Despite it being Monday afternoon on a cloudy day, a surprising number of tourists and after-work runners filled the park and museum grounds. Balboa Park can't compete with some of the great urban parks, like Golden Gate Park to the north or Central Park to the east. But it provides San Diego a large green expanse close to downtown, and concentrates much of the city's cultural resources close to some up and coming neighborhoods.

Café Europa

After cleaning up (and suiting up), I went to the Café Europa Bar, which was having Tango Night. This place resembled the old Justine's Restaurant in Austin, which sadly burned up in a fire. But with a little more European bistro feel. A fairly large crowd of folks who all seemed to know one another occupied about half the tables, and spent most of the night doing the tango. I gorged on an excellent spinach, almond, beet, and goat cheese salad, wine-marinated lamb chop, patatas bravas, and sautéed calamari (with marinara sauce), while watching the dancers and enjoying the scene. It somewhat recreated that Buenos Aires café feel, particularly considering the inside/outside setting, the mixed dark and pastel colors, and the dancing. A great way to pass a time.

The next day, stupid work got in the way. AGAIN! But I did get a good diner-style breakfast at local institution, Perry's Café. Normally breakfast next to the freeway isn't my bag, man, but here you had booths and a counter, "colorful" neighborhood residents mixed in with business people, waitresses who weren't actresses but actual waitresses, and autographed photos of every San Diego Charger between about 1969-1998. My kind of place. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and two huge enormous buckwheat pancakes (they're gluten free, homes!) later, and I was back to swimming in some sort of corporate dilemma. Over iced tea at the local Starbucks. I felt like I was missing an opportunity to bond with San Diego, going to the Corporate Behemoth coffee place. But the Captain had to do some work, and just needed to zone out.

After lunch with the client, combined with a long freeway drive there and back, I headed over to But if you know me you know I don't lounge, so instead I headed across the channel from Mission Bay to the Ocean Beach Park, right next to the water. Its basically a huge open space with some ball fields, but it boasts a really interesting and hard core workout facility. No air conditioning, but you don't need it (you're in San Diego remember...highs in the 70s, lows in the 60s, year round). The anti-Gold's Gym. Lots of iron, however, so I got in my regular workout and headed back to the Pearl.

And then on to dinner in San Diego's small but concentrated Little Italy neighborhood. The Little Italy area lies between the airport and Balboa Park, and not far from downtown. Its so close to the airport that Southwest jets routinely buzz overhead, as if though one was at old Shea Stadium. Except even closer. Quite disconcerting. I thought if my arm was in shape I could probably hit one with a rock. The main street, India Street, hosts more than a dozen Italian restaurants, as well as bars, shops, and related Italian-themed establishments (e.g. a grocery). Though it was a weeknight, plenty of people were out walking the strip, dining on outdoor patios, and generally enjoying themselves. I "cruised" around a bit, but settled on a distinctly non-Italian place a bit removed from the scene-Juniper & Ivy. Tres chic. A bit more cutting edge than I usually like, but very well established and you can instantly tell this is one of San Diego's dining heavyweights. Can't exactly recall, but I believe I had a great ribeye with mushroom sauce, and a salad, while sitting at the bar and watching the humans dine. I could have sworn this guy sitting at the other corner of the bar, with his date/wife/girlfriend, was Robert Downey, Jr. But he was far too lucid and healthy looking, and his date/wife/girlfriend not only did not look like his actual wife (according to the interwebs), she wasn't A-list star quality looking. I mean, what good is being famous if you can't use it to raise your dating league.

The next day was half working, half vacationing. Or so I'd hoped. After starting with breakfast at stupid place where the name escapes me (it was very bright with lots of primary colors, and the kind of place where the menu mainly has pictures of the food instead of descriptions....I was wondering whether I would find the short bus outside), I had to finish some work. So, basically, I traveled to San Diego so I could spend the morning at a Starbucks. Ugh.

Then it was up the freeway to have Lunch with the Client. This was up in Escondido, a ways up the freeway, at another Brigantine. This one had a little more action and depth to it, so on balance it was much more enjoyable than the tomb they're operating in Point Loma. I had the halibut and tried to dazzle the client.

Coronado Hotel

After lunch I was ready for some down time, so it was on to the famous Coronado Island, home of the Hotel del Coronado (where they made Some Like It Hot, and the Stunt Man). Coronado is just a big island right the mouth of the San Diego harbor. The Navy has a big facility out there, but the remainder strikes me as one of those California seaside communities, like Santa Monica or Carmel or Malibu ("stay out of my beach community Lebowski!"), but with less money and therefore greater accessibility. I enjoyed walking the tree lined main streets, with some quiet shops and restaurants, just near the big hotel. The hotel and the beach area seem the big draws here. Dating from 1888, its one of the last all wooden hotels in the country, and a giant mobile crane hoisting workers up to the roof for maintenance attested to the efforts it must take to maintain an all wooden structure next to the ocean. They've maintained the classic interiors and you can practically see the millionaires, sitting in their rocking chairs reading the Wall Street Journal on the patio as you walk up. Close to the beach, the hotel has built an elaborate complex of pools, restaurants, ice cream shop, fitness center, several bars, and you can check it all out by walking on the concrete pathway leading along the coast. The beach features a spectacular view of the bay and Point Loma peninsula. Wish I could have lounged for a bit.

But the USS Reeder doesn't lounge. It runs. It runs long, and it runs deep. Sorry, I'm not really sure where I was going with this, except to say I went back to the hotel and changed, and then went running at "Sunset Cliffs." This is sort of a Point Loma version of that drive just out of town in Monterey, right next to the water, albeit on some cliffs. Lots of surfers out; it was around 6 or so, and I suppose it was surfing happy hour. Sunset Cliffs, as the name implies, would seem like a great sunset watching place, but the clouds really didn't lift the whole time I was in San Diego until about two hours before I had to leave. No sunset this night, though plenty of locals were out walking their dogs, or taking a stroll with the kids or the SO. At one point as the elevation raised sharply, the drainage creeks running into the ocean created a really dense area with some informal trails criss crossing. A lot of people were running or walking those trails, including surfers going from the car to the water. I marveled over this one couple and their photographer. She was pregnant. I mean like, really pregnant. Like 13 months' pregnant. And was very attractive and dressed very stylishly, as opposed to her prison gang-looking boyfriend. They were taking photos for nearly an hour. Lots of profile shots to show what appeared to be one of those gym stability balls lodged within her uterus. I mean, some people! But I had a great run along the Pacific, in the cool summer night air.

The Empire Strikes Back, poolside

One reason I wanted to stay at the Pearl, and stayed after my business concluded, was to watch the pool-side showing of the Empire Strikes Back. The Pearl has a really nice restaurant and bar, just by the courtyard pool. On the other side of the pool they suspend a huge screen, and show movies on Wednesday nights. The place was packed. With hipsters. Who mostly weren't watching the movie. I don't get these people, many of whom were trying to talk over the movie, oblivious to the idyllic setting for watching one of the great movies of all time. By the pool no less. But I still enjoyed it. The hotel clerk made sure to reserve a spot at the bar for me, where I had a nice dinner. And learned who Luke's father really is.

Blacksmith Shop at Old Town San Diego

The next day, I made more of an effort to take an actual day off. I began at the Old Town San Diego State Park. You know that old western theme park where Clark took the Griswolds in Vacation? Imagine that place, but with fewer staff. And more authentic structures. Old Town San Diego consists of about two dozen "pioneer" type buildings, not unlike the Sam Houston Park in downtown Houston with some of the earliest Houston buildings. It contains a working blacksmith, an active old hotel, and numerous shops both in the buildings and in carefully arranged kiosk-type arrangements. Apparently the San Diego Union (which later became the San Diego Union Tribune) was originally located in Old Town, and the old building (really no larger than a big house), contained a number of turn of the century printing devices. Sort of the turn of the century version of the mimeograph machine. The surrounding neighborhood seems quite old as well, and Hispanic-oriented. The main street running east of Old Town toward downtown boasts about 10 different Mexican restaurants, many of which looked really good (and which seemed quite full at lunch time). Just a couple of blocks from Old Town, I discovered the intriguing Heritage Park, run by the county. This featured old homes alright, but decidedly not ramshackle pioneer homes. To the contrary, these were about 8-10 remarkably preserved Craftsman style homes, along a carefully manicured street. Each appeared to be closed to visitors. It also includes the oldest synagogue in San Diego County, which was open and appears to be available for private functions.

La Jolla Point

Then it was on to LaJolla. If you're looking for the "Lawdy we sho is rich now!" part of San Diego, this is it. Situated atop some cliffs overlooking the Pacific just north of downtown, it boasts spectacular ocean views. It struck me as a somewhat larger Carmel, another kind of place where you could go weeks without seeing an American made car, and the people pass the time by enjoying absolutely perfect weather. Of all things, I ate lunch at a barbecue place (Bubba's Smokehouse BBQ) right on the main drag (Prospect St.).  Hey, ok, its not French Laundry. Not every meal can be French Laundry. They had tri tip and it was gluten free and available. Give me a break. After lunch I walked on down to the beach, onto a spit that jutted out into the ocean and gave a great view of the town atop the cliffs and the breaking waves. Seals lined just about all the rocky crags that made up much of the shore line here, and people were stopped to take in the seals sunning themselves on what proved to b a glorious day (La Jolla does not tolerate the cloudiness I'd experienced the entire time in San Diego). I made my way up the coast toward La Jolla Cove, a truly beautiful stretch of beach. To reach it, I found a somewhat secluded little town trail that provided some really phenomenal views of the bluest water I may ever have seen.

Enjoying ComicCon...and other stuff no doubt

Finally, killing time, I went downtown to check out the ComicCon freaks. That's right, San Diego is home to ComicCon, that human freak show and parade devoted to science fiction and fantasy TV, movies, comic books (or whatever they're called nowadays). And, you know, it was more Halloween carnival than Big Bang Theory. As near as I can tell, its like South By Southwest for science fiction, cartoons, comics, etc. The various production companies appear on panels, provide stars and producers to drum up interest in their upcoming shows, They send tons of publicity types down there, and thousands dress up in their favorite character's costumes. The event that once was truly a freak show now draws the likes of Bill Murray and Robert Downey, Jr. I checked out the scene, with thousands making their way to the convention center, dressed in their favorite Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, superhero, or other costumes. The general scene resembled Mardi Gras in some ways, as people hung out in Gaslamp Quarter bars and restaurants and reveled in the freakery. I'm sure that inside the Convention Center may have had a different scene, but just being outside was enough.

OK, that's about it for San Diego. Had a great time, til I had to go back to work.

Can't guarantee anything, but I do hope to resume writing a little more. Hope to see you again soon.

Mad Men and Change

Time for a cocktail?

Change is neither good nor bad. It simply is.

--Don Draper, Mad Men

I've been trying to wrestle this post to the ground for weeks. The concept of "change" has weighed on my mind for quite awhile now, but I haven't been able to articulate those thoughts very clearly yet. Good thing I don't make a living expressing myself in writing. Oh, wait...

Well, anyway. I know Mad Men signed off a several weeks ago, but ever since I began watching it, this show has made me think about at least a couple of dimensions of change we all face (and which many of us deny).

Mad Men presents itself on so many levels: women's struggle for equal participation in society, the place of class in American society, time capsule, and commentary on consumerism. But the most compelling themes involve change. Can we change? How do we respond to change around us, both in the other people who occupy our lives and in society as a whole? Does it even matter? In other words, does anything ever really change?

You can find plenty of blogs and web sites about Mad Men that will recount the final stories far better than I, so I won't focus on any particular Mad Men plot here. Instead, I'd like to ruminate a bit on some of these change issues. Obviously the show has struck a nerve.

The joke around the Reeder household, such that it was, involved my father's perpetual 1958 style. As men's hair and sideburns grew long, as they stopped using Brylcreem, as the ties and lapels went wide, and as the suits became particularly polyesterish, Don Reeder stayed put. Short, slicked hair, trim sideburns, narrow ties. Don Reeder wasn't having any '70s nonsense, and certainly wasn't going to wear it. And while this spared himself the agony of having to look at 1970s pictures of himself and thinking "Holy Crap what was I thinking then?" he did stand out like a conspicuous facial tic through most of the decade. Teenage Chris Reeder for a time felt the blowback from that, as I had to constantly justify my own '70s do. 

On the show, we see society's styles and lifestyles changing at light speed during the 1960s, where one year back then was like five years today, while Don Draper seemingly stays put. As for the rest, maybe the dress styles and hair lengths change, but "personal growth" remains some utopian ideal that never really comes to fruition. We see characters making the same mistakes over and over. And while in a couple of the show's finale plotlines you see some characters seeming to chart a new course, you can easily seem then sliding back into familiar patterns in the fictional time period of 1971 and beyond after the show itself ends. Just like they did time and time again during the show's run. Maybe they hope to change, and maybe for a time they do, but ultimately they revert to the same patterns and actions that led them into trouble before.

Mad Men appears to contend that people never really change. Devices, styles, fashions, and customs may change, but people don't. And while even social opinions may change (e.g. the popular consensus about civil rights or They just polish their act. Some don't even adapt to change.

The last Mad Men episode has me thinking about the changes that occur in a lifetime. Both the changes within you and without you (to cop a '60s song title). Even if you never change, the world changes around you. Though we think of the '60s as the decade with the most rapid social change, the last 10-15 years have rivaled it. Newspapers gave way to the internet, pay phones gave way first to cell phones then to texts. We keep in touch as much through shared networks or "social media" as through direct contact. You may well know someone on the other side of the world better than your next door neighbor. Cars practically drive themselves. Kids can't hardly play without some rigid supervisory or "league" structure, replete with legal releases and mandatory parental volunteerism. We can cheaply get to places all around the world in a relative blink of the eye, or we can almost instantaneously communicate with anyone in the world if we don't feel like going there. Oh, and most everyone's cool with gays, non-whites, and women. Divorce. And on, and on, and on. Its topsy-turvy out there!

Clearly, "things change" and societies change. As "a people," we do change.

But do individuals change? Do you really want your 70 year old grandma going to the Skrillex concert and going water skiing the next day? Isn't there something to be said for constancy?

Its not like hair styles changing every two years. Its a fundamental and profound revolution in how we live our daily lives. Do we all have to change, or at least, do we all have to change at the same pace?

If you're Amish, its no big deal. Because apparently God told them that the technology level prevailing in the 1840s was just the right amount of technology. No more, no less.

But for the rest of us, at some point it starts to overwhelm the capacity to change along with the times. Can we even do it? Do we want to do it? Can we use uber? Can we adjust to "apps"? On the other hand, what's more cringe-worthy than some 50ish guy trying to wear the latest fashions? Or use the latest slang? Or listening to the latest music. You get left behind. You don't get the jokes. You don't know who the popular stars are, or what everyone's doing these days. You just pretend its still 1987 or whenever your personal Golden Age occurred. You become Uncle Rico, throwing the football to stay in shape in case you get your shot at the NFL, buying a mail order "time machine" to get back to that day of the state high school playoff so you could talk coach into putting you in the game. Or Ashley Wilkes, unable to adjust to life in the post-Antebellum South (modern reference).

And do we ever change as people? Our physical conditions mandate some level of change. We lack the stamina for fights. Or going out til 4 a.m. We've been through crisis and catharsis before; at some point it no longer registers. But do we change beyond the bites that time takes out of our souls?

Uh, no. At one level, no one changes. Not really. Not fundamentally. Because at some point, your personality becomes fully baked. You apply it to the conditions that you confront, but you tend to go with what's most comfortable and hope for the best. Oh, you may sharpen your act, or find a way to put a better face on your choices. Or even realize how you fall into patterns. But the fences that hem our choices grow strong as the years pass. We go for the known and the comfortable, no matter how well (or not) its worked in the past, over breaking new ground.

How many people do you know that have changed profoundly once they became an adult? Answer: not that many. Maybe if you completely hit rock bottom and the alternatives are death or radical change, maybe then you can change. Or maybe when the money runs out, or you suffer severe physical injuries, or lose a loved one, or something along those lines.

But not much else. In fact, usually you go the other way. You become a more distilled version of who you are. Whatever you were at 20, or 30, you're that to a much more intense degree at 50. No matter what you lived through. In fact, what you lived through just makes you rely on your core self that much more.

No, people don't generally learn from mistakes. Or if they do, they don't apply those lessons. Nor do they see a better way. They continue to fall in love on impulse. Or to resist love because it disrupts comfort or habit. They don't excel at work because they cannot bear the sacrifice.

Hey, in some ways, that's a good thing. Isn't constancy some sort of virtue? And if we were to change easily, who's to say the changes would always go in the right direction? You know, "I used to be a totally nice guy now I'm a real creep."

But though our core selves don't really change, many of us can change with the times. We can figure out how to use iPhones and uber and to vote electronically, even if at first its somewhat forced. You can listen to new music, watch new shows, use modern slang. Of course, you resemble Dr. Evil when you do. "Hey, I'm hip!" The more adventurous of us may change our hairstyles or clothes, or get into fads. Gross. But even when you do, you stand out like a sore, trend-riding hack. Other than incredibly creepy guys (or parents), what middle aged man is going to the Iggy Azalea concert? Or the Twilight movie? Or to laser tag (sorry, Barney Stinson). Atticus Finch wouldn't play football with the Methodists, I suspect in large part not just to avoid injury, but to avoid looking like a fool.

The show often depicted these sort of cringe-worthy, "give it up, idiot" moments, especially with Roger Sterling. Watch Roger, a man in his 50s who'd already had a heart attack, dropping acid while the Pet Sounds album plays in the background. Watch Roger leave his wife and kids and marry a 20ish secretary. Hanging out later with his daughter at the hippie commune, wearing a total porn 'stache, or piling multiple sex partners into an otherwise elegant mid-town hotel suite. You're obviously intended to react with some level of disapproval: anywhere between disgust to "tsk tsk." I know, "it was the Sixties." But things hadn't really gotten out of hand until the Seventies; most of America was still fairly conservative until the early 70s rolled around and things really started to get out of hand.

We asked Dad about all this once, like why he didn't wear more stylish suits or longer hair. He just said, "to thine own self be true." A veritable mike drop of a line. Go Dad! That pretty much trumps all other hands.

So we're all clear on this right? I really don't know what I was trying to say here. Change is hard I guess. Don't hate me for staying just like I am-super awesome!

TCM Classic Film Festival (part two)

Welcome back to my report from the 2015 TCM Classic Film Festival. In the last installment, I described the first couple of days. This will finish the story.

Saturday morning I started off, solo, by seeing The Man Who Would Be King, starring Sean Connery in what amounted to his first major role after the Bond series. Here's an example of a movie I probably would never have watched at home, but thankfully saw the first time on the big screen thanks to the Festival. Directed by John Huston and co-starring Michael Caine in a fantastic Rudyard Kipling adaptation, the epic jumped right off the screen. Fantastic movie. And Christopher Plummer, who played Kipling, appeared with Leonard Maltin to introduce it. He told several funny stories, such as one where the crew complained when a camel strayed too close to a scene, and Huston replied, "that camel has every right to be in the shot." Plummer explained that when the studio bosses came to inspect the production, they wanted to delete all of Plummer's scenes, to save money of course. Plummer said Connery met them right away and threatened to leave the movie right then and there if they cut out Kipling. Plummer also revealed that the producers replaced the original score at last minute, with something that Maurice Jarre (who had written the Lawrence of Arabia and Doctor Zhivago scores) hastily wrote. Plummer felt the Jarre score nearly ruined the movie. Mr. Plummer looked fantastic. Maybe not Captain vonTrapp fantastic but pretty good. Maltin asked him about that, and he replied that his wife is a great cook who makes only healthy meals. He also said he normally won't see his own movies because he doesn't like to watch himself act. He said every time he does, he thinks the scene wasn't as good as he remembered at the time. 

Christopher Plummer

Then it was off to watch the Sophia Loren interview. Originally lead TCM host Robert Osborne planned to interview her, but he had to miss the festival for medical reasons. Her son Eduardo Ponti, also a film maker, substituted. TCM filmed it and will be showing it in the coming months I'm sure, so I won't say too much about it here. The process of getting in to see it was infuriating. They lined us up for nearly an hour, then when we got in we saw that nearly the entire lower level was roped off for "guests." Everyone had to go up into the balcony. Several women dressed "Italian style" in black lace, with their hair up, in loose dresses showing plenty of figure. One thing I was happy to hear her say was that she always loved Cary Grant. I won't get into that story, but suffice to say he had a strong, largely unrequited love for her and wanted to marry her (even though she was with Carlo Ponti at the time). She explained that she decided not to marry him because she had not been in America very long, and doing so would have been too great a break from the world she had known. Plus she was involved with Ponti. But she said they stayed close friends to the end of his life. Must have been kind of awkward telling your son that. Also, she said she enjoyed working with Peter O'Toole more than any other male co-star. I loved the interplay with her son. She broke "character" many times and said "Eduardo!" in such an instinctive way when he would complement her. And she was very moving when she said even though her husband Carlo Ponti has been dead many years, she thinks of his eyes, which are gentle and strong and from which she still receives comfort.

Shirley MacLaine

After the interview I met up with Donna and Jim at a pub on Hollywood Boulevard, and afterwards we watched The Apartment, with Shirley MacLaine introducing. Everyone knows The Apartment, right? If you don't, then stop reading this, and go watch it immediately. Probably Billy Wilder's most socially relevant movie. MacLaine clearly was itching to speak "out of school" as TCM host Ben Mankiewicz interviewed her. She said Wilder was very cynical, which, gee, tell me something I don't already know. Wilder hated improvisation, but for this movie started filming with only a 29 page script. He wanted to see how Jack Lemmon and MacLaine grew together. She said Lemmon was kind of wild, even though she was hanging out in Las Vegas with the Rat Pack at the time. Wilder seemed very interested in how she spent those weekends. He added the famous gin rummy game to the ending based on one of those conversations.

Alec Baldwin

I'm kind of embarrassed to say I had never seen The French Connection. I remembered when it came out it was absolutely huge. So I was eager to finally see it, and at the historic Graumann's Chinese Theater, no less. They presented a totally remastered print with remastered sound. Unfortunately, the sound was enormously, over the top too loud...like "these amps go up to 11" loud. I've been to two Black Sabbath concerts and thought this was too loud. Director William Friedkin and Alec Baldwin appeared after the movie (somewhat unusually for the festival, which normally presents before the movie). Friedkin gushed over Baldwin, who did his dead-on Pacino impression at one point when they discussed the movie Cruising. Lots of discussion about the Exorcist, Sorcerer, and others. Friedkin said everyone they approached passed on Popeye Doyle role. So they "settled" for Hackman. On the other hand, they wanted Roy Scheider from start. Friedkin said he never does screen tests-he interviews. Director John Singleton unexpectedly appeared in the audience and asked a question about sound in the movie, that sometimes there's lots of sound while at other times there's no sound yet you see characters speaking. Friedkin told the incredible story of how this low budget picture came to be. Then Warner Brothers studio head Darryl Zanuck OK'd it but budgeted only $1.5 million. This meant they couldn't have "sets" and had to film everything on location. They couldn't afford New York City film permits, so they had to engage in somewhat "guerrilla" shooting, although they did manage to hire police to control crowds for some of the shots. This explains why a number of pedestrians look directly into cameras throughout movie. As for the famous subway/car chase scene, Friedkin said they obtained an MTA permit only because they paid the executive director $40,000 plus a one way ticket to Jamaica, because he knew he'd be fired if he agreed. He was fired. 

The next morning I went in early to catch the old Spencer Tracy/Katharine Hepburn movie Desk Set. Not exactly their finest outing, but a cute little movie nonetheless. The festival showed it because it was really the first movie to deal with the advent of computers and how they would affect people, particularly in the workplace. IBM helped finance the movie, and received some pretty heavy handed product placement throughout.  Some movie historian lady introduced the movie. I'm sorry I can't remember her name or much of what she said.

Ileana Douglas and Madeleine Stowe

On to more weighty fare. I had to choose between seeing The Philadelphia Story again, for like the millionth time, or The Children's Hour (which I'd never seen). I was all set to watch the acclaimed Shirley MacLaine/Audrey Hepburn film, until I realized that doing so would potentially keep me from getting a close up seat for Marriage Italian Style, and a shot at sitting close to Sophia Loren. The Philadelphia Story it was. Madeleine Stowe and Ileana Douglas introduced it. Stowe made some very compelling remarks about how the movie represents a pinnacle of sophistication and wit, something sorely lacking in today's movies (though I would argue often present in many cable TV and now Netflix productions). And as always, watching a movie of that stature in the historic Graumann's Chinese Theater is simply a treat not to miss. Hey, look, watching The Philadelphia Story again can never be a bad choice. Ever. 

Sophia Loren

Finally, the finale. Marriage Italian Style, with Sophia Loren introducing. I raced into the theater and got about as close as I could to the front, to bask in Sophia Loren's presence. I was not disappointed. As the photo shows, she looks incredible. TCM host Ben Mankiewicz interviewed her. Let me just put it this way. She said a bunch of stuff that just kind of went in one ear and out the other. I was so enthralled being that close to Sophia Loren (Sophia Loren!!!) I couldn't hardly breathe, much less think. I'm no star chaser, but that's because there are no more stars. Sophia Loren is a star, in every way. I enjoyed the movie. Very "Italian" of course, but intriguing. Loren played a prostitute who as a teenager met Marcello Mastroianni in the brothel where she worked. The movie follows them over years as he first makes her his mistress, then puts her in charge of his various businesses, until he later tries to cast her aside for a woman the same age as Loren when they first met. Not a story that early 1960s Hollywood could have made, but charming and intriguing in its own way.

The next day I ran in Beverly Hills again, got packed, then headed out to lovely Santa Monica to spend the afternoon before my flight. If you ever get the chance you should check it out. Its an identifiable town separate from Los Angeles, with a phenomenal beach of its own, right before the road leading to Malibu.

This was the second year I attended the TCM Classic Film Festival and I think I may keep returning. I enjoyed seeing these classic stars, and classic movies in classic movie theaters. Its fun watching these great movies with crowds of like minded, intelligent fans as who are eager to share their own experiences about these movies. 

Now that I think about it, American movies from the studio era, and into the 1970s creative renaissance, represent a vital part of our nation's cultural heritage. I see people lining up to see Fast and Furious 7 and Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2, and take it as further proof that we no longer can appreciate the sophistication and beauty that can produce a Sound of Music, or Philadelphia Story, or Roman Holiday, or The Apartment. As I've previously written, creativity and art seem to have found a home on the small screen, with the likes of The Sopranos, the Larry David Show, Friday Night Lights, Breaking Bad, Mad Men, True Detective, and other powerhouses. These shows carry on that old movie tradition without having to produce "box office." 

Maybe there's still room in America for something that doesn't pander to the lowest common denominator. I hope so. But I still love the classics. And would rather watch Casablanca or Singin In the Rain or Goldfinger or Breakfast at Tiffany's on the big screen for the hundredth time than watch about whatever 3D action thriller summer comic book blockbuster happens to be at the local IMAX for the first time.  

Grumpy old man, I know.

NEXT--She is a pornographic symbol!

TCM Classic Film Festival (part one)

2015 TCM Classic Film Festival

This time a couple of weeks ago I was attending the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood. Here's
how that went.

Before getting into that, however, I arrived in Los Angeles on a Wednesday evening, a little later than I hoped. After checking into my LA home away from home, the fantastic Petit L'Ermitage, I went out to Runyon Canyon Park for an incredible run. The park is high in the famous Hollywood Hills, just off Mulholland Drive. This huge park contains the Griffith Observatory, which several movies have featured prominently (Rebel Without A Cause comes to mind). The park features an incredible hiking/running trail that traverses some pretty significant elevation. About midway through you gain an incredible panoramic view of the entire city, which I was blessed to enjoy at sunset.

The next day, after working much of the day, I made it to the Festival. For those who remember my posts last year, the Festival features classic movies from the 1930s-70s, though this year they screened several 1980s movies (even the 1993 Apollo 13). The festival takes place primarily at three classic old Hollywood movie palaces: the Grauman's Chinese Theater, the El Capitan Theater, and the Egyptian Theater, as well as the Chinese Theater multiplex. The Festival headquarters is located at the old Roosevelt Hotel, within easy walking distance of each theater. They present a discussion before each movie, usually featuring one of the movie's stars, crew, or someone otherwise associated with the movie. For example, Keith Carradine spoke before The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance; his father John Carradine starred in the movie. Often the discussion will take the form of an interview. Ben Mankiewicz, for example, interviewed Sophia Loren before Marriage Italian Style. For me, these presentations represent the true reason to attend the Festival. I sat within about 50 feet of Sophia Loren, and could scarcely believe it. This year I saw many other movie legends in person, intelligently discussing their work before sophisticated yet adoring audiences.

LA from Runyon Canyon Park

The Festival opening event, replete with red carpet, featured a joint Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer appearance preceding The Sound of Music. Sadly, one had to have a premium pass to attend that showing, and the price was so steep it simply didn't make sense to buy it just to attend that one event. I skipped it. I did catch part of the red carpet, from a distance. Though I was looking for Julie Andrews I missed her. I did catch glimpses of Shirley Jones, some guys from Grease, and Peter Fonda. Someone standing next to me said they saw Gretl (or whoever played Gretl), but I missed it.

The aforementioned Sound of Music was for the richey rich crowd in tuxedos and Valentino gowns. The $500 extra cost priced it out of the range of anyone who wasn't "industry" or could write off the expense. Instead, I saw Liberty Valance. This is another great John Ford movie, but underrated. It extols the virtues of civilization and law, set against the romantic Wild West. Introduced by Keith Carradine. His father, John Carradine, who had starred opposite John Wayne many times, including Stagecoach, played Maj. Cassius Starbuckle, a scoundrel and demagogue who opposed James Stewart's hero character at the Territorial Statehood Convention.

Before the next movie I had dinner at a steak place in the complex, and sat by these two guys, brothers as it turns out (Will and "Gron") from San Jose. We exchanged stories of festivals past, what are you seeing this time, etc. They gushed about The Party, a 1968 swinging farce directed by Blake Edwards and starring Peter Sellers. It would be shown the next night poolside at the Roosevelt, but unfortunately that put it against Apollo 13, and there was no missing Apollo 13 this year.

Illeana Douglas

Then it was on to My Man Godfrey, as lovingly introduced by Illeana Douglas. She positively gushed about director Gregory LaCava and read out details of his career. Among her points, you could draw a line from Carole Lombard to the women comic actresses of today. Obviously she loves the classics and well versed. And I must say, I've always loved this little-known movie. The incredible William Powell stars as a to the manor born 1 percenter, mistaken for a Depression-era "forgotten man" and hired as the butler for an absolutely insane Park Avenue family. Hilarity ensues. But with a social conscience. I first saw this movie maybe 30 years ago at the Texas Union Theater when I went to college and it really stuck with me. I loved the opportunity to watch it on a big screen, with a theater full of laughing fans.

The next day, after more work drudgery, I made it back to the festival and initially saw
Woody Allen's Purple Rose of Cairo with Leonard Maltin introducing. This will never be one of my favorite Allen movies, but its still entertaining, and even thought provoking in this celebrity obsessed age. How many of us live "dream lives" or "fantasy lives" where we crave a movie star lifestyle? Would we really want that if we had it? Unfortunately, the festival showed a pretty beat up print, which really detracted from the experience, but the audience still seemed to enjoy it.

Ann-Margret

Later that day, I met up with my friends Donna and Jim, my Festival partners for the rest of the day and Saturday. We saw Ann-Margret introduce the incredible Cincinnati Kid, starring herself and Steve McQueen, along with Edward G. Robinson in a spectacular, out-of-character performance as "the Man" gambler McQueen challenges. Karl Malden also stars as Ann-Margret's unlikely loser husband. Even Cab Calloway shows up...hi de hi de ho! Ann-Margret looked fantastic, though she moved kind of slowly to and from the stage. She talked about her love of motorcycles, all the while in a very soft spoken voice. She related a story of driving up to 120MPH on Mulholland Drive. As I mentioned above, I was up there and its an incredibly winding road in a heavy residential area. So basically she was a damn fool. She stated that she has been married for 48 years, and is now taking care of her husband Roger Smith. of Steve McQueen she had only praises, and when asked to describe him, could only say that he had a real "animalism." Of course, we already knew that. I'd never seen the movie before, and loved it. McQueen brought that real intensity for which he's always been known, and the confrontation with Edward G. Robinson was gripping. Ann-Margret was just sex personified, but still brought real personality to the role as the scheming bad girl.

Capt. James Lovell and Bill Paxton

Then, naturally, for a Houston boy who grew up during the Apollo years, and with Donna's father having been an important Apollo project member, we were gonna see Apollo 13 no matter what. Alex Trebek introduced and interviewed the mission commander, Capt. James Lovell (whom Tom Hanks played in the movie).  This guy, wow. Two Gemini missions, two Apollo missions. Member of the Apollo 8 crew, the first men to go to the moon. An American hero in every possible sense of the word. He related a number of stories about the mission I've heard many times. Then Bill Paxton, who co-starred in the movie, joined them both on stage as a surprise appearance. The movie itself had been remastered and looked absolutely incredible on the big screen. We really enjoyed it tremendously.  

I think I'll break it here and cover the rest of the fest in the next post.
 

Every Lifetime Movie

Been traveling. A lot. And its either get to sleep at night or watch TV. So I've caught up on some important TV time and feel so much more connected to civilization now.

And, yes, I stumbled across some bad stuff. Very bad stuff.

I will now give away the plot of every Lifetime movie, thereby sparing you those couple of hours (did you know you can buy these things? You know, because there's not any actual real movies available on Netflix): 

 

Husband is an attractive but swarthy looking beater/abuser/murderer. (Think some B-grade Andy Garcia type, with scars and/or tattoos). Who forgets his Wife’s (Jennie Garth or Janine Turner) anniversaries and birthdays, obvs. And is mean to her girlfriends (he like doesn't compliment their brand new shoes when they go to dinner parties or some other Neanderthal move). And doesn’t notice when his wife changes her hair. And doesn't act completely supportive at the kids' soccer games. And forgets the anniversary of their sixth date. And wears flip flops when its not appropriate. And sometimes is sleeping with her workplace arch rival. 

 

The Supportive Friend/Cousin/Sister and helpful male friend (either gay or too much of a wuss to make a move-think Jim on The Office) slowly find out what’s going on, and scheme to help. Generally they visit some expert who schools them on the particular psychopathic disorder the Husband suffers, acting as a plot device to let the audience know what the hell is going on.

 

They hint around with the Wife until the 1 1/2 hour mark, and right before the commercial, they stage a quasi-intervention with the Wife. Who is resistant at first, because, you don't know him like I do/I can't hurt the kids/I'm a complete and total idiot (that's usually implied). But shortly after the commercial, she finally gives in, when…

 

The Husband does some horrible terrible thing (like, giving her sister a series of extra long and creepy hugs then bringing home some stability reinforced bondage equipment), putting the W’s life (and/or kids) in jeopardy.

 

Supportive Friend/Cousin/Sister and Helpful Male Friend work with the wife to thwart the Husband’s plans. They call the police, who arrive right when Husband starts freaking out. Not before, and not after. Exactly when the Freak Out happens (seven minutes before the credits).

 

Sensitive Hunky Cop, who listens and likes to cuddle (and who’s ex-wife was a Total Bitch) shows up at the end to protect Wife, and asks her out as they’re taking Husband off to prison. Actually, he doesn't ask her out. He just says something that implies they're going to be together. Like through the whole movie, Wife keeps blathering on about how she loves the movie His Girl Friday, then as SHC is leaving he makes some reference to His Girl Friday and winks at her (she looks back longingly).

 

Zoom out...the end.

 

 

Remembering Mr. Spock and Leonard Nimoy

Live Long and Prosper, y'all!

"After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting."

--Mr. Spock, Star Trek (Amok Time episode)

Geez, leave it to a Vulcan to totally nail two complex emotional concepts.

I wanted to wait until the usual punditry suspects exhausted themselves writing about Leonard Nimoy, to gather my thoughts and make sure I wasn't just repeating stuff I read.

Two things struck me about Mr. Nimoy's passing.

One was how the Spock character obviously resonated with millions. Not just the Trek weirdoes who go to the conventions, wear the uniforms, learn Klingon, get Star Trek tattoos, and so forth. I was always a Kirk guy, because, obvi. So the huge Spock love took me a little by surprise.

The other was how that character's appeal crossed nearly all social boundaries. Black or white, rich or poor, educated or not, geek or cool, you get it. Everyone could identify with and felt some connection to the Spock character.

The web contained an enormous outpouring of love for Mr. Nimoy, and while most genuinely felt sympathy and sadness, nearly everyone was in reality connecting with Spock more than Mr. Nimoy. True, they occupied the same space (no pun intended), but if he'd never played Spock, you wouldn't have seen all those articles last week. That's not a slam; without Mr. Nimoy's incredible portrayal, people wouldn't have made the same connection with Spock that they did.

So I want to speak directly about that character, recognizing that it took Mr. Nimoy's remarkable acting to bring Spock to "life" and move so many. That cocked brow, for example, was a far more compelling reaction than a thousand words to the Enterprise craziness swirling around him.

Here's some guesses about why so many people identified with Spock.

Man vs. Machine

This is how we deal with illogic on Vulcan

Much of Star Trek concerned fears about machines replacing humans, or so dominating us as to take away our "humanity." Star Trek tapped into a real vein going all the way back to Metropolis and Modern Times, and extending on into the Matrix movies. Fear of the machines became evident throughout the Space Age, in which works like Fail Safe, Twilight Zone, and Day the Earth Stood Still all took on the perils of machines and computers. And so many Trek episodes featured the crew resisting and even fighting back against the impersonal and inhuman machines. Even as they otherwise comfortably used other technologies like the warp drive or the transporter (to be fair, McCoy did constantly complain about the transporter, but then again, McCoy pretty much complained about everything). But Spock's devotion to logic made him inherently sympathetic to and accepting of computer and mechanical advances. He did not fear these developments, but easily adapted to their advantages. Spock seemed able to cope with and master the new technology without sacrificing his essential character. Indeed, as McCoy frequently alleged, Spock in some ways was like a machine. He did not often let emotions and passions influence his judgment. Yet, as many episodes demonstrated, it wasn't as easy as that. Spock struggled to cope with his human emotions, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, could make non-logical, emotion-based decisions. Spock's best moments came when he allowed his human emotions to bubble up, however briefly, and override his calculating logic . Spock seemed the model of adapting to the progress machines bring without suffering their dehumanizing effects.

Embodiment of America in the 1960s

The 1960s saw probably this country's greatest social upheaval and change. In the span of what really amounted to just four years, a whole generation was questioning and changing nearly all of American society's bedrock principles, even including our basic appreciation of ourselves. The Love Generation (sidebar-gag! another name for a bunch of dirty, selfish hippies...who grew up to run the country of course) was all about "free your mind" and following your emotions. Spock, however, was not. Spock, in standing for logical and dispassionate decision-making, symbolized all those German rocket scientists helping America beat the Russians to the moon. He seldom gave in to those wacky humans, with all their caring and sharing and running around willy nilly without a plan. He regarded that way of thinking as unacceptable and dangerous. Yet, surrounded by it, he had to cope as best he could. Much like Establishment America had to cope with all the hippies, and ultimately, to have it change him.

Coping As An Outcast

Evil Spock

How often did McCoy or some other yayhoo point out that Spock was a "half breed" or some other racist epithet? Answer: like, all the time. In one episode, Spock's mother ("Mrs. Spock"?) told Kirk how the other Vulcan kids wouldn't play with Spock as a result (or those crazy Vulcan kids do for play, advanced calculus maybe?). Star Trek was all about the 1960s and the changing times. From the free and easy relationships between men and women (not another Kirk reference), and between people of different races and cultures, the Enterprise crew was one big happy, color-blind, non-sexist happy family. Except for Spock. And during all of American history even up today, who has it worse than the biracial kids? Jim Crow's most oppressive laws were those banning the "intermingling of the breeds" (miscegenation laws) and maybe the worst treatment was reserved for those kids. And even minorities could heap scorn on such mixed race children, thereby subjecting them to two different racial groups' prejudice and hatred. Children of cousins? Mighty fine. Children of two different race parents? Outcast.  I can even remember people telling me that if a black and a white person had a child it would look like a zebra (which, actually would be pretty cool). Spock symbolized and gave a face to millions of mixed-race people throughout the world. Coping with the inevitable insults by recognizing their illogical nature. Persevering against them and realizing his ambitions despite prejudice, by perfecting his skills and remaining true to his tasks. In succeeding, despite his mixed race heritage, Spock gave millions of such people their first real hero.

The Yin to Kirk's Yang

Kirk: "Let's go find some green women tonight!"

Spock: "That is illogical. The only green women on board are

             skeezes."



Before Felix and Oscar, before Butch and Sundance, before Starsky and Hutch, and before Riggs and Murtaugh, and before those Brokeback Mountain guys, there was Kirk and Spock. Star Trek was the original buddy show. In some ways, Star Trek was the story of Kirk and Spock, two men as different as can be, forming a closer bond than with anyone else in their lives. It's impossible to imagine Star Trek without those two as equals and friends. Maybe seven people would have watched "The Spock Show." Without Kirk to put Spock in awkward and challenging situations, Spock would comfortably spend every day working on equations and tsk tsking his fellow crew members' human foibles. And if Spock were in charge, they'd never get into the impossible, Certain Death situations in which Kirk was always putting them. Usually it took Spock to get them out of it, often with McCoy's or Scotty's technical help. Of course, if it were just Kirk, they'd have to flee every planet for their lives after Kirk made it with the Prime Minister's daughter or such. Spock clearly tempered Kirk's impulsive and irrational leanings and made him a more balanced, disciplined leader.  Just as Spock's best moments came when the human side slipped through, Kirk's best moments came when he followed his BFF's logical example. But in making Spock join the landing party every time, Kirk got Spock out of the Science Officer's chair and on the High Road of Adventure that a Logic-Driven Being would expect to find challenging. Spock responded, always providing creativity, perseverance, and mad skillz as needed to get out of another Kirk-inspired jam. Kirk would lord the Federation's moral superiority over the less worthy natives, but only after Spock applied his Vulcan Science Academy training to get them out of jail, or cure some hideous disease, or otherwise put them back on top. Together they created an extraordinarily compelling couple. Star Trek, both the series and especially the movies, were often guilty of soap opera level melodrama, cheesy dialogue, and unlikely plots. But the scene where Spock dies in The Wrath of Khan, with Kirk looking on helplessly as Spock utters his dying words "I have been and always shall be your friend," friends, that's supremely moving no matter who you are. That scene tells you everything about those two characters in the span of about two minutes, of things they'd never said to one another (and couldn't say to each other), mainly because they never needed to say them. And so, as a couple, or a team, of such different personalities, they pooled their strengths to succeed, rather than letting their differences consume them.

Farewell, Mr. Spock. And farewell, Mr. Nimoy. And of course...you know...live long and prosper.

What If....?

What are you looking at?

I'll write about Leonard Nimoy, and in particular his Spock character, soon. Meanwhile, live long and prosper.

In the meantime, call me crazy, but people LOVE time travel movies. Time travel books too. These movies and books almost always consider traveling back in time. Never forward. Who wants to go forward in time? You want to wind up like Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes? Surrounded by a bunch of damn, dirty apes? (Ooops! Spoiler alert!). No, the time travel movies that succeed all involve going back in time. Back to the Future. The Time Machine (ok, literally, the main character goes forward in time, but to a society that has reverted to a primitive state, so its almost like going back in time). Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Countless original Star Trek episodes where they went back in time so they didn't have to spring for futuristic special effects that episode, like the one where they went back to 1968 to meet Teri Garr and the black cat/hot babe. Hot Tub Time Machine. Peggy Sue Got Married. Somewhere In Time (Miss Birdie's favorite movie, because, of course it is). Midnight In Paris. Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. Downton Abbey and Mad Men (not really time travel per se, but kind of serving the same purpose of showing "how it used to be"). Its all about going...Back In Time (cue Huey Lewis).

Why, you may ask?

I think there's kind of a prevailing sense that times aren't as good now as they were "back then." Both on a personal level and as a country. I've written about the latter notion before, and of course, in many ways, we're living in the best times ever. So time travel back in time lets the audience delve back in the good old days. So in going back in time, we can return to a state where things seemed more certain, where we don't face the constant challenge of adapting to new technology (the "iPad"), new cultural norms (they acutally let gays marry each other now?), new life realities (like back before Austin was a hipster-ridden doucheville), or when you were younger and could do awesome things (instead of spend the weekend sore and lying on the couch).

The other reason people like time travel stories is we seem to have this view that your well-being and life circumstances often turn on individual decisions or actions. That didn't come out very clearly. That just a few individual moments or decisions directly lead to our station in life, our position, our overall welfare. So for example, the reason I'm a bus driver and have a horrible life is because I dropped out of school. IF ONLY I HAD STAYED IN SCHOOL...I'd be Bill Gates. Or whatever. We seem to think our lives come down to these very few "either/or" moments, such that the wrong choice, or being in the wrong place (or right place) at a specific time invariably caused to live the life we live. I know, that makes no sense, but I think it accounts for all these time travel stories where the main character goes back in time to correct some "mistake," the unstated premise being that without that mistake, their horrible rotten lives would magically become a bed of roses. If only I had married Jennifer. If only I stayed in school. If only I applied for that job. If only I hadn't quit the team.

You can tell that same story as a nation too. WHAT IF...certain crucial events in our nation's history hadn't happened? I'm not so sure about key events in people's lives. It seems to me that people basically are who they are and act how they act. If you had indeed asked that one girl to marry you after college, your life probably wouldn't have been much different than it ultimately turned out. The reason you didn't marry her to begin with probably would have caused you to get a divorce, and you'd be in the same place you were anyway. For example. But on a national basis, I'm not so sure the same thing would hold true. Sometimes, a singular event really does profoundly alter a nation's future.

I've thought about this a good bit lately, although I have absolutely no idea why. But here's some intriguing "what ifs." I don't necessarily answer these questions because they inherently elude an answer. No one can no know how things may have turned out differently. But make no mistake. Things would have turned out differently.

Some of the more obvious "what if" questions don't really generate much excitement because you figure the same thing would have happened anyway, at some other time or with someone else. So for example, "what if Elvis were never born" doesn't seem very interesting because someone like Elvis would probably have reached similar fame. America was ready for someone just like him, so if Elvis hadn't been born, Jerry Lee Lewis, for example, may have become the King of Rock and Roll. But rock and roll and counterculture and long hair and all that would probably still have happened.

Oh, and I try to be reasonable here.  The point is to focus on particular moments in time. Assuming away an entire era for example ("what if the 60s had never happened") is just stupid. Or "what if the Wright Brothers never lived"? As if though no one else in the entire world would ever have had the same idea to invent an airplane.

Think about these:



Kennedy at Rice University

Sorry for asking our generation's most obvious "what if." What if Oswald missed? Would JFK have
been as aggressive on Vietnam as LBJ? Would Kennedy have pursued civil rights legislation with the same fervor as LBJ? The Warren Commission would never have existed, and therefore the great  cynicism in its findings, the first time the American public really mistrusted its government, would not have happened. Would America have been as ready to let off some steam in late Spring 1964 when the Beatles played the Ed Sullivan Show and unleashed the "British Invasion," which in turn unleashed "The Sixties"? Would a second Kennedy term have seen the same level of anti-war and civil rights protests, and therefore have led to the conservative backlash that elected Nixon and ultimately Reagan and the Bushes (and turned the South to the GOP for at least two generations)? So many distinctly different futures possibly flow from that one moment in time.

What if America never fought the Vietnam War? Would all that social unrest have happened? The "Youth Movement"? Giving the vote to 18 year olds (like that made any difference). Would it have intervened more aggressively in other conflicts? When would the draft have ended?



That Guy

What if Lincoln hadn't been assassinated? Would he still have made it on the penny? More importantly, without harsh Reconstruction measures, would Jim Crow have come into existence? Would the South have lagged economically and socially for more than a century?
What if the Japanese had launched their second assault wave on Pearl Harbor? The American Navy could not have realistically supported operations against the Japanese for a least a year, well into 1943, giving the Japanese time to consolidate their conquered territory and move more broadly against China, Australia and New Zealand, and possibly even against Soviet Far Eastern territories (while Germany kept it busy on the Eastern Front).

What if America entered the war against Japan only, not the Germans? Could Germany have defeated Russia, moved on to conquer Great Britain, take over all those British colonies, and effectively split the Eastern Hemisphere with Japan?

What if the Germans had invaded Russia just a couple months earlier, in June 1941, rather than waiting until August? See above.

I Am the Walrus?

What if Lenin hadn't died of a stroke, but lived another few years? Would there have been forced collectivization, and its 12 million deaths? Would a Stalinist dictator have succeeded Lenin if Lenin had more time to develop a coherent, functioning Soviet government? Would the Soviets have entered into the Nazi non-aggression pact, thereby encouraging Hitler to move on Poland?

What if the Brits had supported the Confederacy? The Holy Grail of the Confederacy--British recognition and support. The British Navy could have broken the Federal blockade and resupplied Confederate troops, and the resulting Southern trade with other nations could have supplied the South with needed hard currency. Immigrants would have poured into Charleston and Galveston just as much as Ellis Island, providing manpower to replenish the chronically outmanned Confederate Army. The United States may well have split into two weakened nations, with the South clinging to outmoded slavery just long enough to miss the Industrial Revolution and the North lacking the resources to project American power throughout the world. More importantly, the American "ideal," which has inspired so many people around the world to fight for freedom, would have lost a good bit of its moral imperative.

Kind of obvious: What if 9/11 hadn't happened? I wouldn't have to strip every time I want to fly.

The "I Have a Dream" Speech

What if Martin Luther King hadn't been assassinated? Would race relations have taken a different course?

What if that giant asteroid hadn't hit the earth millions of years ago (or 6,000 years ago, depending on your choice of cable news programming), and wiped out the dinosaurs? Would we all live like Fred Flintstone?

What if the Confederates won at the Battle of Gettysburg? See above.

What if the Brits won the Revolutionary War? Now this one is even more fascinating. Stuck with the British "class system," and with economic policies that discouraged the opening of the West and creation of private corporations, America almost certainly would not have achieved its "super power" status or enjoy its present standard of living. Everything in the Mountain and Pacific Time Zones may have remained in Spanish possession, or broken off into some sort of Spanish speaking confederation resembling Mexico. As something resembling a larger Canada, the weakened US may have been unable to reinforce the British and French in World War I, or even World War II. The industrial and technological innovations we've produced for more than a century may never have occurred.

That's all I've got.

What are some other "what ifs"?