When Halloween of 1964 rolled around,this 4th Grade kid was still greatly impacted by the events that had occured in November of the previous year.I imagine there were some youth of another generation impacted the same way when they saw the Challenger blow up right in their classrooms,and still others of a more recent generation,and more recently I'm certain there was a fourth grader out there still obsessed with what they saw on September 11,2001. Children are an impressionable lot.
In the time between November of 1963,and Halloween of 1964,this kid had become somewhat of a collector of all things Kennedy,and had even decided that his goal should be to run for President of the United States when he was eligible. This 9 year old was even consumed with the 1964 Presidential Election and was already learning what it was like to take an unpopular position,because he had declared to the dismay of his mom,(a staunch Johnson-Humphrey supporter and campaign worker) and the scorn of fellow classmates of his intentions to cast his vote in the school mock election for Senator Barry Goldwater,but that's another story for another time..
Given all this, when Halloween rolled around,it should not have been a big surprise to anyone that when most 4th graders were trying to find the scariest outfit for Halloween,or at least something to look like some TV character like My Favorite Martian,the moment he came across a John F. Kennedy mask,that JFK he was going to be.
It wasn't going to be too hard to be JFK on Halloween,all that was needed was the mask,and to wear the jacket and tie that was worn for church and sunday school every week.
He had no one to trick or treat with that Halloween. Luckily in 1964,everyone in the neighborhood knew everyone,and even if you went out alone,by the time you rang a person's doorbell,you were shortly going to be joined by other kids in the neighborhood. Now in this kid's mind there was more to portraying John F. Kennedy than dressing like him. One had to adopt a Bostonian accent or try as best as one could. It was also going to be important to be Presidential. This was also going to be practice for the time when the kid was actually going to be President of the United States.
When he reached his first door,he was joined by a group of about 5 other kids.
"Trick or Treat!" they all yelled . The adult at the door began hand out the candy.
"And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country."
The words were spoken clearly,concisely,and while the Boston accent may not have been perfect,the hand gestures were recognizable to anyone who had even as much glanced at a TV during that era. The other kids began to laugh. Being laughed at was nothing new to this kid. He had been laughed at for everything from being ugly,to being a poor athlete,and this thought of becoming President seemed absurd to most. The kid was willing to take it however.To be President it seemed,one had to be unpopular to a certain extent.. after all JFK had to take a bullet to the head because he was President.
Nevertheless,this seemed like a disaster in the making till the adult passing out the candy began to applaud. The other kids split at this point,but in doing so they missed out on the extra pieces of candy given to him by this adult.
This unique approach to Halloween continued at every door with other excerpts of Kennedy speeches given at every new door.
"The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it—and the glow from that fire can truly light the world." The Christmas the year before,the kid's most prized Christmas gift was an LP containing many of Kennedy's speeches. For a year,he had played that record over and over and over again,memorizing many of the passages as a result. After awhile other kids were choosing to knock on doors before or after the kid would reach it,but in almost every instance,the kid was receiving extra candy and becoming a favorite of every adult he would speak with.
"Ich Bin Ein Berliner" was probably the only Kennedy passage that wasn't working that night,but every child within eye shot of the kid had to notice that his Halloween bag was more full of candy then the rest.
Then it happened..the kid's bag broke. In what seemed like seconds,every child anywhere close to the kid rushed up and took every last piece of candy that had fallen to the ground. In an instant the kid's Camelot was no more,and Halloween never seemed the same to that kid ever again.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
When Baseball Created Rebels
In 1987,the last daytime World Series game was played. That means now,there's a couple generations out there where night games for postseason baseball is very much the norm. The popularity of baseball has declined over the years,some people attribute the decline to its slower pastoral pace,especially in this day and age of video games. Others claim football is now America's sport.
I have my own theory.
America has long been an incubator for mavericks,iconoclasts,and rebels of various stripes,and daytime World Series games helped to develop them. When postseason baseball was played in the day,kids had to hope their teacher was a baseball fan,and hope that teacher would bring a television into the classroom. If the teacher was not a fan,then one had to resort to other means to keep up with the scores.
From the time I first became a baseball fan in third grade, (the 1963 Dodgers-Yankees World Series was the Series that got me hooked) till I was in eighth grade,catching the World Series games at school was standard fare. Then came ninth grade,Watkinson School,and Colonel Leiby. This was 1969,the final year of a tumultuous decade.
Watkinson School is a small prep school in Hartford Connecticut.Ninth grade was my first year at Watkinson,and Colonel Leiby was my Algebra teacher.
Colonel Leiby was a rather mild mannered,soft spoken teacher. He kinda looked like Peter O' Toole in the movie Goodbye Mr. Chips. At the same time,you didn't mess with Colonel Leiby. For one,should you call him MR. Leiby by mistake,he would immediately stop you and say my name is COLONEL LEIBY. Watkinson for discipline had a demerit system. Anything from failing to wear your tie to class,to long hair(or short skirts for the girls)or being late could get you a demerit. Five demerits,and you were at school on Saturday morning. Colonel Leiby never hesitated to hand out demerits when he deemed it necessary.On top of it,Colonel Leiby was a no nonsense Algebra teacher. As one who always struggled with math,I immediately knew I was in trouble from the moment I first stepped foot in Colonel Leiby's classroom.
I was in for even more trouble when,in 1969,my favorite team,the New York Mets defied 100-1 odds and went from the bottom of the league to its first ever World Series appearance. For me,as well as many others,this was more miraculous than men landing on the moon. If Neil Armstrong had made his small step for man during the school year,I doubt if anyone in Colonel Leiby's class would have been permitted to watch it. It was just my luck that Game 3 of the 1969 World Series between the New York Mets and the Baltimore Orioles would start while I'm in Colonel Leiby's classroom.
I may have been the only Mets fan in the class but luckily,there were a couple other students who loved baseball,and who were not going to stand for missing the game. One of them was Bruce Edwards. Bruce was a troublemaker from the moment he stepped foot on Watkinson's campus. Saturday detention was generally just another day at school for Bruce. I generally did not get along with Bruce,in fact he would sometimes bully me in 9th grade,but getting over on Colonel Leiby would create strange alliances. The day before the game,Bruce,another student Mike Morgan,and myself agreed to bring our transistor radios to class. The plan was for all three of us to listen to the game,relay the score to those students interested,and with three of us tuned in,should Colonel Leiby catch one of us,there would be the other two to carry on..
Each of us had our own way of concealing our transistors. I chose to hide my radio in my pocket with the earphone cord going underneath my shirt. It was also imperative that the volume be at a whisper. I also had to appear somewhat slumped on my desk,which actually wasn't too unusual because being a poor math student,I tried to avoid Colonel Leiby calling on me in class. Each of us sat in different locations in the classroom. I was closest to the door. Edwards was towards the middle of the class,and Morgan was in the back of the classroom. When the starting lineups were being introduced,I used my notebook to write it down..Agee..Garrett..Cleon Jones. It was not uncommon for Edwards to be writing notes and to get away with it. It was his job to pass on the Orioles' lineup..Frank Robinson,Boog Powell,Brooks Robinson... We created hand signals to inform the class what was going on. It was Edwards' job to let folks know who was up for the Orioles,my job was the Mets lineup,and Morgan was to supply the play by play.
The first inning went without a hitch,but then came trouble. Mike Morgan was the first to get caught. "That will be 5 demerits for you" said Colonel Leiby as he pulled Morgan's transistor from the desk.
This created immediate problems for me,because now it was up to me to relay the play by play. It was easier for Morgan and Edwards to pull that sort of thing off.They were generally talkative in the classroom. I tried to keep a low profile in the classroom,but now I was going to have to raise my hand to signify outs. The first time I raised my hand,Colonel Leiby was pleased that I actually participated in the classroom,but after that he got suspected something was wrong,and sure enough caught me and confiscated my transistor. Bruce Edwards was the only one who got away unscathed,but he had demerits from other classes,so the end result was all of us saw a Watkinson study hall on Saturday morning.
I don't know whatever happened to Mike Morgan. He left Watkinson before we graduated..Somehow I can imagine him being involved in some Wall Street insider trading scheme.
Bruce Edwards ended up following his own muse,after getting busted with marijuana in the trunk of his car,he found his calling as a golf caddy for Tom Watson and was the subject of a book Caddy for Life by John Feinstein. Edwards passed away a few years ago of Lou Gehrig's disease. Some say I still carry the spirit of 1969 onto this day.
Some people rue the fact that the rebellious and idealistic spirit of the time seemed to fade with the era..Others are concerned that the youth are losing interest in baseball. Perhaps we can take care of both by bringing back Daytime Postseason Baseball!
I have my own theory.
America has long been an incubator for mavericks,iconoclasts,and rebels of various stripes,and daytime World Series games helped to develop them. When postseason baseball was played in the day,kids had to hope their teacher was a baseball fan,and hope that teacher would bring a television into the classroom. If the teacher was not a fan,then one had to resort to other means to keep up with the scores.
From the time I first became a baseball fan in third grade, (the 1963 Dodgers-Yankees World Series was the Series that got me hooked) till I was in eighth grade,catching the World Series games at school was standard fare. Then came ninth grade,Watkinson School,and Colonel Leiby. This was 1969,the final year of a tumultuous decade.
Watkinson School is a small prep school in Hartford Connecticut.Ninth grade was my first year at Watkinson,and Colonel Leiby was my Algebra teacher.
Colonel Leiby was a rather mild mannered,soft spoken teacher. He kinda looked like Peter O' Toole in the movie Goodbye Mr. Chips. At the same time,you didn't mess with Colonel Leiby. For one,should you call him MR. Leiby by mistake,he would immediately stop you and say my name is COLONEL LEIBY. Watkinson for discipline had a demerit system. Anything from failing to wear your tie to class,to long hair(or short skirts for the girls)or being late could get you a demerit. Five demerits,and you were at school on Saturday morning. Colonel Leiby never hesitated to hand out demerits when he deemed it necessary.On top of it,Colonel Leiby was a no nonsense Algebra teacher. As one who always struggled with math,I immediately knew I was in trouble from the moment I first stepped foot in Colonel Leiby's classroom.
I was in for even more trouble when,in 1969,my favorite team,the New York Mets defied 100-1 odds and went from the bottom of the league to its first ever World Series appearance. For me,as well as many others,this was more miraculous than men landing on the moon. If Neil Armstrong had made his small step for man during the school year,I doubt if anyone in Colonel Leiby's class would have been permitted to watch it. It was just my luck that Game 3 of the 1969 World Series between the New York Mets and the Baltimore Orioles would start while I'm in Colonel Leiby's classroom.
I may have been the only Mets fan in the class but luckily,there were a couple other students who loved baseball,and who were not going to stand for missing the game. One of them was Bruce Edwards. Bruce was a troublemaker from the moment he stepped foot on Watkinson's campus. Saturday detention was generally just another day at school for Bruce. I generally did not get along with Bruce,in fact he would sometimes bully me in 9th grade,but getting over on Colonel Leiby would create strange alliances. The day before the game,Bruce,another student Mike Morgan,and myself agreed to bring our transistor radios to class. The plan was for all three of us to listen to the game,relay the score to those students interested,and with three of us tuned in,should Colonel Leiby catch one of us,there would be the other two to carry on..
Each of us had our own way of concealing our transistors. I chose to hide my radio in my pocket with the earphone cord going underneath my shirt. It was also imperative that the volume be at a whisper. I also had to appear somewhat slumped on my desk,which actually wasn't too unusual because being a poor math student,I tried to avoid Colonel Leiby calling on me in class. Each of us sat in different locations in the classroom. I was closest to the door. Edwards was towards the middle of the class,and Morgan was in the back of the classroom. When the starting lineups were being introduced,I used my notebook to write it down..Agee..Garrett..Cleon Jones. It was not uncommon for Edwards to be writing notes and to get away with it. It was his job to pass on the Orioles' lineup..Frank Robinson,Boog Powell,Brooks Robinson... We created hand signals to inform the class what was going on. It was Edwards' job to let folks know who was up for the Orioles,my job was the Mets lineup,and Morgan was to supply the play by play.
The first inning went without a hitch,but then came trouble. Mike Morgan was the first to get caught. "That will be 5 demerits for you" said Colonel Leiby as he pulled Morgan's transistor from the desk.
This created immediate problems for me,because now it was up to me to relay the play by play. It was easier for Morgan and Edwards to pull that sort of thing off.They were generally talkative in the classroom. I tried to keep a low profile in the classroom,but now I was going to have to raise my hand to signify outs. The first time I raised my hand,Colonel Leiby was pleased that I actually participated in the classroom,but after that he got suspected something was wrong,and sure enough caught me and confiscated my transistor. Bruce Edwards was the only one who got away unscathed,but he had demerits from other classes,so the end result was all of us saw a Watkinson study hall on Saturday morning.
I don't know whatever happened to Mike Morgan. He left Watkinson before we graduated..Somehow I can imagine him being involved in some Wall Street insider trading scheme.
Bruce Edwards ended up following his own muse,after getting busted with marijuana in the trunk of his car,he found his calling as a golf caddy for Tom Watson and was the subject of a book Caddy for Life by John Feinstein. Edwards passed away a few years ago of Lou Gehrig's disease. Some say I still carry the spirit of 1969 onto this day.
Some people rue the fact that the rebellious and idealistic spirit of the time seemed to fade with the era..Others are concerned that the youth are losing interest in baseball. Perhaps we can take care of both by bringing back Daytime Postseason Baseball!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
the Rose of Denver
August 17, 2011
Spent four days in Colorado last week. Add four more days to the thirtysome years of personal history with that state.While it was great as always to see relatives and friends,and of course admire those Rocky Mountains,there was a more important reason to be there this time.
You see last year,my daughter Rose made a decision to join the U.S. Army. In January,she went away to basic training,and this was her first time back home since her enlistment.
I think there comes a time in every parent's life when a child does something just about opposite of what you would do. My parents ,while being politically liberal, socially had the conservative values of most middle class parents of the era and they had to endure seeing me take my 3.8 grade point average,and nearly full college scholarship off to a commune in Alaska's Matanuska Valley!
I refused to play Army as a kid. It set me apart from all the neighborhood kids. When I was in 7th grade,my parents suspected I might be a pot smoking hippie when I spent my weekends leafleting on behalf of that poet and anti war Senator from Minnesota Eugene McCarthy. It was still a few years from 7th grade before I saw marijuana for the first time,but if being a hippie meant having peace as a core value,they were absolutely right. The anti war themes in Richie Havens' "Handsome Johnny",Country Joe McDonald's "Feel Like I'm Fixin to Die",and Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant influenced my countercultural direction before marijuana did.
With that type of background,the LAST thing you would think a child of mine would do would be joining the Army. Rose is in the Army now.
That new reality was made quite clear when I first arrived..Due to Army related business she had to attend to,it was two days before finally getting to see her.
I can say this: both Rose and I both possess a strong independent streak,and a hard core determination once our minds are made up. She believes she has made the right choice for herself and is proud to be serving. I am proud that my daughter is her own person.
Rose's unit is scheduled to be deployed to Iraq. (If you've been led to believe we're winding down in Iraq,guess again..)
Since Rose's stint in the Army began, the question has been asked of me how do I manage when this decision of hers to enlist seemingly goes against the core of my being? Any parent worth their salt is going to love and care for their child..that goes without saying,and in supporting her,I don't have to go against my values at all because as a peace loving parent,now this stuff about war becomes personal and any parent worth their salt is going to do whatever they can to keep their child out of harm's way.
Now I have friends across the political spectrum,and I remember how some of you reacted four years ago when I chose to support Ron Paul for President. I'm just letting you know I'm doing it again,and this time it's even more personal than it was four years ago. You might disagree with me,but I ask those of you who do to respect it as a parent doing his best to protect his child from harm. Ron Paul,like myself does not want to see our troops engaged in an overseas conflict that has nothing to do with the security interests of the United States,in fact harms it. I might also add that while she serves,she shouldn't have to worry about her Dad back home possibly being criminalized for the use of a plant that has inspired the writing of his plays,poetry and spoken word material,is part of his spiritual practice,and has been an integral medicine in his ongoing fight against cancer. Electing Ron Paul as President would go a long way in addressing those concerns.
Don't know when the next visit to Colorado will be,I've long given up on predicting the future,but I sure do hope that in one of those visits Rose will be there,safe and sound.
Spent four days in Colorado last week. Add four more days to the thirtysome years of personal history with that state.While it was great as always to see relatives and friends,and of course admire those Rocky Mountains,there was a more important reason to be there this time.
You see last year,my daughter Rose made a decision to join the U.S. Army. In January,she went away to basic training,and this was her first time back home since her enlistment.
I think there comes a time in every parent's life when a child does something just about opposite of what you would do. My parents ,while being politically liberal, socially had the conservative values of most middle class parents of the era and they had to endure seeing me take my 3.8 grade point average,and nearly full college scholarship off to a commune in Alaska's Matanuska Valley!
I refused to play Army as a kid. It set me apart from all the neighborhood kids. When I was in 7th grade,my parents suspected I might be a pot smoking hippie when I spent my weekends leafleting on behalf of that poet and anti war Senator from Minnesota Eugene McCarthy. It was still a few years from 7th grade before I saw marijuana for the first time,but if being a hippie meant having peace as a core value,they were absolutely right. The anti war themes in Richie Havens' "Handsome Johnny",Country Joe McDonald's "Feel Like I'm Fixin to Die",and Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant influenced my countercultural direction before marijuana did.
With that type of background,the LAST thing you would think a child of mine would do would be joining the Army. Rose is in the Army now.
That new reality was made quite clear when I first arrived..Due to Army related business she had to attend to,it was two days before finally getting to see her.
I can say this: both Rose and I both possess a strong independent streak,and a hard core determination once our minds are made up. She believes she has made the right choice for herself and is proud to be serving. I am proud that my daughter is her own person.
Rose's unit is scheduled to be deployed to Iraq. (If you've been led to believe we're winding down in Iraq,guess again..)
Since Rose's stint in the Army began, the question has been asked of me how do I manage when this decision of hers to enlist seemingly goes against the core of my being? Any parent worth their salt is going to love and care for their child..that goes without saying,and in supporting her,I don't have to go against my values at all because as a peace loving parent,now this stuff about war becomes personal and any parent worth their salt is going to do whatever they can to keep their child out of harm's way.
Now I have friends across the political spectrum,and I remember how some of you reacted four years ago when I chose to support Ron Paul for President. I'm just letting you know I'm doing it again,and this time it's even more personal than it was four years ago. You might disagree with me,but I ask those of you who do to respect it as a parent doing his best to protect his child from harm. Ron Paul,like myself does not want to see our troops engaged in an overseas conflict that has nothing to do with the security interests of the United States,in fact harms it. I might also add that while she serves,she shouldn't have to worry about her Dad back home possibly being criminalized for the use of a plant that has inspired the writing of his plays,poetry and spoken word material,is part of his spiritual practice,and has been an integral medicine in his ongoing fight against cancer. Electing Ron Paul as President would go a long way in addressing those concerns.
Don't know when the next visit to Colorado will be,I've long given up on predicting the future,but I sure do hope that in one of those visits Rose will be there,safe and sound.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
When John Cipollina Came to Alaska
John Cipollina, with Copperhead
In the early 70's,there was more than one reason Alaska was called "The Last Frontier". For one,even in the "major cities" of Anchorage and Fairbanks,there was no live television.Shows were shipped up and broadcast on a 2 week delay basis. The Super Bowl would be broadcasted live via satellite,but that's another story for another time...
Alaska was also the Last Frontier for this reason. KENI-AM was a standard 70's AM station that would play album tracks at night. That was the best one could do for music on the radio,and this was clearly a step backwards for someone who had experienced the underground FM radio stations of the day.
The campus of Alaska Methodist University in Anchorage seemed far removed from the tumult that had impacted so many college campuses during the late '60's and early '70's. The vibe throughout much of the campus was reminiscent of how colleges in the 50's were depicted...The campus choir was popular... there were curfews, the elected student body president was a lover of tradition,and an ally of the college administration ,and though Alaska had lenient marijuana laws, this did not extend to the campus of AMU.Maybe things had skipped over..or hadn't arrived yet.
Some of this was also different for my roommate Ron Buickie. Ron was from upstate New York.I happened to meet Ron on my flight from New York to Alaska. In the days when tobacco smoke was allowed on flights,Ron used the opportunity to smoke something that wasn't tobacco in the bathrooms,and was kind enough to give me a sample of what he was bringing to and smoking in the bathroom. This happened before we discovered we were going to the same college,and before we found out we were assigned as roommates.
It was Ron who got the ball rolling..Ron would still obtain the underground magazines that seemed to flourish then. Ron got the word through one of those newspapers that John Cipollina was taking a hiatus from Quicksilver Messenger Service,was working with a new band called Copperhead and they were looking for gigs..The address to write them was on the ad. Ron then tossed the ball into my hands.
It must be said at this point that between the time Ron and I had met on the flight to Alaska to this moment when the ball was being tossed my way,that I had gotten myself elected to the Student Assembly at AMU. I got elected in large part due to the "marijuana code language" employed in my campaign statement for the student newspaper. My election did not sit well with the student body president,and he told me as much.
When Ron said "Let's bring John Cipollina to Alaska",he knew that once I had gotten elected to the Student Assembly,I managed to my way onto the Student Activities Committee. Though I was thrilled to be on the committee,I was also aware I was placed there by the student body president.I was also charged with coming up with an event to raise money for the Student Activity fund..My understanding was the last few events had failed to raise money,and the student body president wished to see if I could use the "marketing skills I used to get elected" as he put it to use.
When we sent the request to the address listed in the ad,I thought that might be the last we'd hear of it.
I imagined John Cipollina and his manager laughing soon as they saw the "Methodist" in the Alaska Methodist University stationary we sent the inquiry on.What I didn't imagine was getting a return letter within two weeks with instructions to be near a phone on such and such a date at this time Alaska time. In the return letter the manager had accounted for the approximate time the letter would take before it would arrive in Anchorage,and knew about the 1 hour time difference between Pacific and Alaska time.
Shortly after that phone call,I got the Student Assembly to approve an "investment"to bring a "really good rock band"to play in the Student Union Building.The student body president felt the cost of investment was too high for a band he had never heard of,but was unable to persuade the rest of the assembly. Once the "investment' was secured,I then turned to my roommate to finalize the deal to bring John Cipollina to Anchorage.
KENI-AM stated their willingness to assist the University students raise money by running free PSA's about the upcoming event..and because the station didn't have any Quicksilver albums,Ron and I knew the nights they played Quicksilver Messenger Service and Happy Trails, (one night they played the entire second side of Happy Trails),that those were OUR albums being beamed throughout that Last Frontier!
The "stage" in the Student Union building was barely large enough for the drummer..Cipollina said he had no problem working with it. The Student Union building also didn't have any real type of dressing room. Cipollina,also said as he rolled joint after joint,lighting them then passing them on,that he had no problem that his "dressing room" had to be the janitor's room.I was happy,He seemed happy,Ron was happy and that janitor's room was hazy by the time Copperhead hit the stage!
The Student Union building was packed..students and non-students alike. Copperhead played some original tunes,and some Quicksilver favorites,and John Cipollina showed his appreciation by not only delivering some of the finest guitar licks this side of San Francisco ,but also between many of his guitar solos would toss joints into the audience as well as light one and pass it on.
I was told later by the college President (Yes,I got called into his office after the Cipollina show) that I could never do something like that again. I said ok,but had to remind him that we doubled the "investment "and made money for the Student Union. I knew from that moment on, that at a small liberal arts college of 400 students,I was going to be watched like I had never been watched before. I also knew I was happy and a lot of folks,students and non students went away happy.Ron was happy. His copy of Happy Trails was played on KENI-AM,and he got to roll joints with John Cipollina.
John Cipollina went away happy too..There was no way the "investment" was going to cover the cost of bringing a band to Alaska. In the 70's cost kept many bands from playing in Alaska..but Alaska was the Last Frontier,and that was almost enough to bring John Cipollina to Alaska. What was enough to bring him to a small liberal arts college run by the Methodist Church was Matanuska.
Matanuska Valley Thunder F@*k..a..for you who don't know, Matanuska Valley Thunder F@*k is one of the most powerful strains of marijuana grown in North America. The nearly 24 hour sunlight in the summer would do wonders for the strain,and for a pound of Matanuska Valley Thunder F@*k,John Cipollina was willing to bring Copperhead to Alaska.
A few years ago,I returned to Alaska to perform my one man play Kolorada...a western tale. Alaska Methodist University is now Alaska Pacific University. While in Anchorage I had to stop by,and it brought tears to my eyes to see that the makeshift stage that once had John Cipollina on it was still there..
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Rootswriter David Daniels: Musings on Opportunity..
Rootswriter David Daniels: Musings on Opportunity..: "Alaska Methodist University was a small liberal arts college in Anchorage Alaska. It's now known as Alaska Pacific University. I atten..."
Musings on Opportunity..
Alaska Methodist University was a small liberal arts college in Anchorage Alaska. It's now known as Alaska Pacific University. I attended Alaska Methodist University in the 1970's. At the time I was enrolled at AMU,there were approximately 400 students attending. Now for some folks reading this,400 students may seem rather minuscule,and maybe it was,but for me,a high school graduate from a school of little over 100 students,this was stepping up to the big time!
Attending AMU was very much like living in a small town in the sense that at the very least,you knew of most all the students,and professors,and professors knew who the students were as well.
Frank Brink was widely known as the father of theater in Alaska. He established not only the drama program at AMU,but the Anchorage Little Theater,and was known for persuading folks like Boris Karloff,and Will Rogers Jr. to come to Alaska and perform for little or no money with local casts.This is during an era when Alaska seemed particularly remote to the rest of the country. What first struck me when I met Frank Brink was,unlike others who wanted to be addressed as "Dr. Konigsberg" or "Professor Latham,he was addressed by and simply known as "Frank".
I didn't take any drama classes under Frank,but I'd often see him in the lunchroom located in the student union building. I found out later he'd see me too.
I had never experienced previously what I experienced socially at AMU. In elementary school,I was the shy kid who often times had to worry about getting beat up. In high school,while I had a few close friends,I was nowhere close to being a popular kid.
I was too shy to date in high school.
At AMU,I was one of ten blacks enrolled in the college,and one of two living on campus. For many Alaskan students,I was the first flesh and blood black person they had ever encountered,but in addition,I was from the East Coast,and had seen and experienced things (like rock concerts) that many,due to the isolation of Alaska had only dreamed of. With all this going on, I wasn't going to be able to quietly hide in a corner. In the dorm and outside the classroom,this quiet,shy student was sought after,and I'd often hold court with fellow students in the student union building lunchroom.
It was because of those holding court sessions in the lunchroom where Frank Brink got it in his mind that I might be able to act. He had written this play he told me,"Song of the Great Land"- a piece based on Alaskan History,and there was a character in the play,that he said,had me written all over it. Before giving me a chance to say no on the spot,Frank handed me a script.
The problems as I saw it was not in the ability to learn the lines.I'd always been blessed with a strong memory,and in reading the script,I was certain I could learn and play the role.
As I saw it,Problem #1 was: Rose Atwater. Rose Atwater,an Athabascan Indian woman with hair almost to her ankles was easily one of the most beautiful women on campus.In Frank's script,all my scenes were to be opposite her.
Problem # 2 was: according to the script,I was supposed to kiss her. Why is this a problem?
Problem #3: I had not dated and had never kissed anyone.
I'm certain I was not the only one on campus that shared my opinion on Rose,and I'm certain I wasn't the only one who entertained thoughts on what it would be like to kiss Rose,but the way I saw it,if I was to kiss her,it was going to be without an audience.
The kiss,according to the script was supposed to be a fairly passionate kiss. I first tried to get him to cut the scene altogether,and when he refused that,I tried to get him to compromise on the passion. He wouldn't budge...said something to the effect that the kiss and passion were integral to the script.
Frank wouldn't budge and neither would I,and 3 days before rehearsals were to begin in earnest,I dropped out of the play.
Frank Brink's play,Song of the Great Land won an award,and because of that for a couple months,it became a touring production. It even toured on the East Coast.
In the almost 40 years since Song of the Great Land made its tour,there have been times I've wondered how life may have been different if I had chosen to make my first kiss a public affair. I mean I eventually ended up on the theater stage afterall..I just would have started earlier. In more than one of my own productions,I've smoked marijuana onstage which I think in most places carries more risks than a kiss..even the most passionate one.
Thing is: The lesson learned from that experience has proven to be over time far more valuable,in fact I doubt the theater experiences that came later in life would have happened outside of that experience.
I let a major opportunity slip through my fingers,and I knew it when I saw Song of the Great Land performed in Anchorage. The memories of the sick to my stomach feeling I felt then and desire not to feel that way again,serve as motivation when faced with opportunity.
http://books.google.com/books/about/Song_of_the_Great_Land.html?id=etT5XwAACAAJ
Attending AMU was very much like living in a small town in the sense that at the very least,you knew of most all the students,and professors,and professors knew who the students were as well.
Frank Brink was widely known as the father of theater in Alaska. He established not only the drama program at AMU,but the Anchorage Little Theater,and was known for persuading folks like Boris Karloff,and Will Rogers Jr. to come to Alaska and perform for little or no money with local casts.This is during an era when Alaska seemed particularly remote to the rest of the country. What first struck me when I met Frank Brink was,unlike others who wanted to be addressed as "Dr. Konigsberg" or "Professor Latham,he was addressed by and simply known as "Frank".
I didn't take any drama classes under Frank,but I'd often see him in the lunchroom located in the student union building. I found out later he'd see me too.
I had never experienced previously what I experienced socially at AMU. In elementary school,I was the shy kid who often times had to worry about getting beat up. In high school,while I had a few close friends,I was nowhere close to being a popular kid.
I was too shy to date in high school.
At AMU,I was one of ten blacks enrolled in the college,and one of two living on campus. For many Alaskan students,I was the first flesh and blood black person they had ever encountered,but in addition,I was from the East Coast,and had seen and experienced things (like rock concerts) that many,due to the isolation of Alaska had only dreamed of. With all this going on, I wasn't going to be able to quietly hide in a corner. In the dorm and outside the classroom,this quiet,shy student was sought after,and I'd often hold court with fellow students in the student union building lunchroom.
It was because of those holding court sessions in the lunchroom where Frank Brink got it in his mind that I might be able to act. He had written this play he told me,"Song of the Great Land"- a piece based on Alaskan History,and there was a character in the play,that he said,had me written all over it. Before giving me a chance to say no on the spot,Frank handed me a script.
The problems as I saw it was not in the ability to learn the lines.I'd always been blessed with a strong memory,and in reading the script,I was certain I could learn and play the role.
As I saw it,Problem #1 was: Rose Atwater. Rose Atwater,an Athabascan Indian woman with hair almost to her ankles was easily one of the most beautiful women on campus.In Frank's script,all my scenes were to be opposite her.
Problem # 2 was: according to the script,I was supposed to kiss her. Why is this a problem?
Problem #3: I had not dated and had never kissed anyone.
I'm certain I was not the only one on campus that shared my opinion on Rose,and I'm certain I wasn't the only one who entertained thoughts on what it would be like to kiss Rose,but the way I saw it,if I was to kiss her,it was going to be without an audience.
The kiss,according to the script was supposed to be a fairly passionate kiss. I first tried to get him to cut the scene altogether,and when he refused that,I tried to get him to compromise on the passion. He wouldn't budge...said something to the effect that the kiss and passion were integral to the script.
Frank wouldn't budge and neither would I,and 3 days before rehearsals were to begin in earnest,I dropped out of the play.
Frank Brink's play,Song of the Great Land won an award,and because of that for a couple months,it became a touring production. It even toured on the East Coast.
In the almost 40 years since Song of the Great Land made its tour,there have been times I've wondered how life may have been different if I had chosen to make my first kiss a public affair. I mean I eventually ended up on the theater stage afterall..I just would have started earlier. In more than one of my own productions,I've smoked marijuana onstage which I think in most places carries more risks than a kiss..even the most passionate one.
Thing is: The lesson learned from that experience has proven to be over time far more valuable,in fact I doubt the theater experiences that came later in life would have happened outside of that experience.
I let a major opportunity slip through my fingers,and I knew it when I saw Song of the Great Land performed in Anchorage. The memories of the sick to my stomach feeling I felt then and desire not to feel that way again,serve as motivation when faced with opportunity.
http://books.google.com/books/about/Song_of_the_Great_Land.html?id=etT5XwAACAAJ
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