1859 and the Lonely Mockingbird

1856-60 Blogging, Part 5 of 5
"Death, death, death, death, death."

Engraving of Walt Whitman from the
first edition (1855) of Leaves of Grass.
Source:  Wikimedia Commons

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s my fifth and final series possibility, this one from 1859 again (that’s four out of five from 1859, but that’s okay…):  21 essays on the poem “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” by Walt Whitman.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892) published the first edition of his major poetry collection Leaves of Grass in 1855, with a second edition issued in 1856 and a third in 1860.  With each edition, Leaves of Grass grew larger.  The 1860 edition was the first to include “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” where it was initially known as “A Word Out of the Sea.”  Whitman had written the poem in 1859 and first published it in the Saturday Press under the title “A Child’s Reminiscence.”

“Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” IS a child’s reminiscence, entirely built upon Whitman’s boyhood memory of two mockingbirds that he observed one summer nesting on a Long Island beach.  One of the birds does not return, leaving the other to express his loss in song.  The Indian word “Paumanok” is Whitman’s term for Long Island. The “cradle” that endlessly rock is the ocean.  The word out of the sea is “death.”

Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,

Death, death, death, death, death.

I grew up on Long Island.  Much has changed, but not the ocean.  It’s still a cradle endlessly rocking.  And death is still an inescapable part of our world.

The aria sinking,

All else continuing, the stars shining,

The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuously echoing,

On the sands of Paumanok’s shore gray and rustling…

This is the last of my official 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).

Next year up on the random year(s) generator:  2006.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price

1856 and the Lackawanna Valley

1856-60 Blogging, Part 4 of 5
Working for the Railroad

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1856 series possibility:  21 essays on “The Lackawanna Valley,” a painting by George Inness.

"The Lackawanna Valley" by George Inness
from the collection at the National Gallery of Art (Washington, DC).

This was supposed to be a simple advertising piece.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad hired George Inness (1825-1894), an ambitious but still unestablished young artist, to promote their company and the railroad industry through his painting skills.  People were awed by the power of the awesome new trains but they were scared by them, too.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad wanted to reassure people that trains could easily fit into their small town landscapes.  They decided to use art to sell the idea that trains are unthreatening.

Did Inness believe this?  It’s the tensions within the painting that make it especially fascinating.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad probably wanted a large-scale Hudson River School-style landscape—but with a train meandering through it, placidly moving through a bucolic scene. Inness gave them an attractive landscape and a handsome train, but then he foregrounded it with a barren field of tree stumps.  He seems to suggest that the natural landscape will inevitably fall before the encroaching modern technology.  It’s a subtle message that Inness may have hoped to slip by the corporate people.

A series on “The Lackawanna Valley” could go many places:  to the emerging railroad industry in the mid-19th century, to the schools of painting like the Barbizon School and the Hudson River School that influenced Inness, and to Inness’ slow move toward a more spiritual approach to painting that culminated in the great Tonalist paintings of his later years.  I think it would be fun to go deeper into the work of George Inness and explore more fully the world that he painted.

Tomorrow, I’ll be proposing the last of these 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, paintings, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and Goblin Merchants

1856-60 Blogging, Part 3 of 5
Christina Rossetti's Goblins

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  21 essays on “Goblin Market,” a poem by Christina Rossetti.

Backwards up the mossy glen

Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men,

With their shrill repeated cry,

“Come buy, come buy.”

Christina Rossetti’s intense narrative poem “Goblin Market” is a recent discovery for me.  I read it in preparation for my series on Christina Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter.”  Much as I loved “Goblin Market,” it didn’t provide much grist for the “Midwinter” series which leaned more toward pleasant Nativity thoughts than images of evil goblin merchants and their seductive and juicy fruits.

If “In the Bleak Midwinter” was appropriate for Christmas, “Goblin Market” might be a good choice for Halloween.  In a cultural scene overcrowded with zombies and vampires, it might be nice to acknowledge the too-often-overlooked goblins.

One had a cat’s face,

One whisk’d a tail,

One tramp’d at a rat’s pace,

One crawl’d like a snail,

One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry,

One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.

Over the next two days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, paintings, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and Dave the Potter

1856-60 Blogging, Part 2 of 5
Dave the Potter’s Storage Jar

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  21 essays on Dave the Potter and his magnificent storage jar at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Storage Jar made by David Drake (Dave the Potter),
American, 1800 - c. 1870.  Made in Edgefield,
 South Carolina in 1859.  Alkaline-glazed stoneware,
26 1/2 x 15 1/2 (67.3 x 39.4 cm.).
Philadelphia Museum of Art

This pot is incredible.  It stands over two feet high and  it’s 15 inches wide.  To make a pot this big, you would have to be capable of manipulating a huge quantity of clay on the wheel.  To get it this perfect, you’d have to be a master craftsman.

Dave the Potter was a slave who worked for stoneware potters in the Old Edgefield District of South Carolina.  He was probably in his late 50s when he made this pot.  Unlike most slaves, he was literate and was known for writing distinctive verses on his pots.  This particular storage jar is inscribed:  “Good for lard or holding fresh meat,/blest we were when peter saw the folded sheet.”  Also, the pot has the initials LM which would stand for Lewis Miles, owner of the pottery, and it’s signed by the artist:  “May 3d 1859/Dave.”

At one time almost lost to the mists of history, Dave the Potter is now recognized as a master craftsman of the 19th century and his works deserve to be celebrated.

Over the next three days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and a Jug of Wine

1856-60 Blogging, Part 1 of 5
Bread, Wine, and Verse

Edmund J. Sullivan's illustration to Quatrain 11
of the first edition of FitzGerald's Rubaiyat.
Source:  Wikimedia Commons

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  15 essays on The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, the 1859 first edition of Edward FitzGerald’s translation.  (15 essays would come to one essay for every five quatrains.)

I first read Fitzgerald’s Rubáiyát when in college—in retrospect, a pretty ideal time to enjoy a dream of fatalistic hedonism.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse  – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

That’s the first edition version of Quatrain 11.  The fifth (and posthumous) edition of 1889 yielded the classic quote:

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

I’m not much on picnics, but this one continues to sound appealing.  A venture into the Rubáiyát could lead in many directions—to the Persian original, to FitzGerald’s free-wheeling translation style (often more FitzGerald than Khayyam), to the philosophies of Ecclesiastes and Epicurus that seem to echo through it.  It might make a nice series for lazy summer evenings—essays to be enjoyed with a glass of wine at sunset.

A Pre-Raphaelite illuminated manuscript
tribute to FitzGerald's Rubaiyat of
Omar Khayyam with calligraphy and
ornamentation by William Morris and an
illustration by Edward Burne-Jones.

Over the next four days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 Bonus List: Some Great Movies

1930 blogging, bonus list!

11 Great Movies from 1930

To conclude our festival of 1930, I’ve got a list of recommended movies.  This mini-list is excerpted from the “Doubling the Canon” list (as compiled by participants on the IMDb Classic Film message board) combined with the 1930 list from the They Shoot Pictures Don’t They? list of 1,000 great films.

The They Shoot Pictures list is a 1,000-movie canon of great films;  the “Doubling the Canon” list adds an additional 1,000 movies to the canon.  And now I’m excerpting the 1930 movies.

11 Great Movies from 1930

(Combined list, with They Shoot Pictures picks in caps and Doubling the Canon picks in lower case, all presented in alphabetical order.)

À propos de Nice / Jean Vigo

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT / Lewis Milestone

BLOOD OF THE POET, THE (LE SANG D'UN POETE) / Jean Cocteau

BLUE ANGEL, THE (DER BLAUE ENGEL) / Josef von Sternberg

EARTH (ZEMLYA) / Aleksandr Dovzhenko

L'AGE D'OR / Luis Buñuel

MOROCCO / Josef von Sternberg

PEOPLE ON SUNDAY (MENSCHEN AM SONNTAG) / Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, Fred Zinnemann

Tale of the Fox, The (Le Roman de Renard) / Wladyslaw Starewicz

UNDER THE ROOFS OF PARIS (SOUS LES TOITS DE PARIS) / René Clair

Westfront 1918 / G.W. Pabst

Here’s the full They Shoot Pictures list.  And here’s the  “Doubling the Canon” list.  Special thanks to the two masterminds behind these lists: Bill Georgaris who manages They Shoot Pictures and Angel Gonzalez Garcia who now leads the "Doubling the Canon" project.

I created and launched  “Doubling the Canon” project around half a dozen years ago, ran it for a few years, and then handed it off to Angel’s capable hands where it’s flourished since.

Next up on the random year(s) generator:  1856-1860.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and the Blues

1930 blogging, part 5 of 5

Country Blues of 1930

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m running a new feature where I randomly select a year or set of years, and then brainstorm on some possibilities for 21 Essays series that could emerge from the assigned time.   For the current round, the roulette wheel has spun, gradually slowed, then clicked to a stop, pointing at:  1930.

The Mississippi Sheiks, circa 1930.

So here’s my fifth and final 1930 series possibility:  21 essays on the Mississippi Sheiks and their popular 1930 blues recording “Sitting on the Top of the World.”

While southern country blues had been around for many decades, the Mississippi Sheiks were among the very first groups to successfully get their music preserved on vinyl, hear it played on the radio, and to scratch out a brief career playing the blues live.  They were a guitar and fiddle group, with Bo Carter frequently singing lead supported by Lonnie and Sam Chatmon and Walter Vinson.

“Sitting on Top of the World” was written by Walter Vinson and Lonnie Chatmon and it swiftly became a standard, covered not only by blues artists but eventually by top-selling mainstream artists such as Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Harry Belafonte.  Two decades later, this type of blues began to merge with country to create the new rock and roll sound.  Numerous rock musicians and groups—including Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, Cream, and Jack White—have paid their respects with covers of “Sitting on Top of the World.”

Here’s the original Mississippi Sheiks version:

Here’s legendary bluegrass guitar player “Doc” Watson paying his respects:

And here’s contemporary rock star Jack White banging out a great version on piano from the movie It Might Get Loud (2009).

This is the last of my official 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…) but I’ve got one more bonus entry of some classic 1930 movies that I’ve saved for last.  I’ll post it tomorrow.

Next up on the random year(s) generator:  1856-1860.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and Gershwin

1930 blogging, part 4 of 5

Rhythms of 1930

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m running a new feature where I randomly select a year or set of years, and then brainstorm on some possibilities for 21 Essays series that could emerge from the assigned time.   For the current round, the roulette wheel has spun, gradually slowed, then clicked to a stop, pointing at:  1930. 

So here’s my fourth 1930 series possibility:  21 essays on a popular Broadway play of 1930 called Girl Crazy.

On Broadway in 1930:  Ethel Merman and the chorus of Girl Crazy.

While movies were often kind of dull in 1930 (going through some difficult adjustments in the switch from silent to talkie), music was enjoying a solid-gold year.  The 1930 pop charts are bursting with riches.  There’s “Mood Indigo” by the up-and-coming Duke Ellington, “Georgia on My Mind” by Hoagy Carmichael, “Ten Cents a Dance” by Rodgers and Hart, “Body and Soul” by Johnny Green, and “Puttin’ on the Ritz” by Irving Berlin.

But I decided to go with Girl Crazy when I realized that three major musical contenders for the year—the Gershwin’s “I Got Rhythm,” “Embraceable You,” and “But Not for Me”—all came from this one musical.  I’ve seen it in a couple of guises but never the actual original play.  I really like the 1943 Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland Girl Crazy movie, which uses six of the play’s songs and reworks the plot for its stars.  And I really like Crazy for You, the 1992 retooling of Girl Crazy with over a dozen Gershwin hits borrowed from other plays and movies.

I’m interested in that original production.  It’s got great songs, the star-making debut of Ethel Merman, the first major role for Ginger Rogers, and a legendary opening night pit orchestra with Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa, Glenn Miller, Jack Teagarden, and Jimmy Dorsey, all conducted by George Gershwin.  And no one captured it on tape or vinyl!

Here’s Ethel Merman, 26 years after her stage triumph, suggesting what Broadway audiences were treated to in 1930:

Tomorrow, I’ll be proposing the last of these 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1930 movies, books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

Next up on the roulette wheel of years:  1856-1860.

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and the Fox

1930 blogging, part 3 of 5

Foxes of 1930

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m running a new feature where I randomly select a year or set of years, and then brainstorm on some possibilities for 21 Essays series that could emerge from the assigned time.   For the current round, the roulette wheel has spun, gradually slowed, then clicked to a stop, pointing at:  1930. 

So here’s my third 1930 series possibility:  21 essays on Le Roman de Renard (The Tale of the Fox) by Ladislas Starewicz.

A classic anti-hero, the Fox emerges from an
illuminated manuscript in Ladislas Starewicz'
The Tale of the Fox (1930).

Sooner or later, I can guarantee that I will do a series on Ladislas Starewicz, pioneering animation genius.  I could do the series on his acclaimed early silent masterpiece The Cameraman’s Revenge (1912), or on his unclassifiable and jaw-dropping brilliant short Fetiche (The Mascot) from 1934, or maybe today’s choice, The Tale of the Fox.  At a time when live-action directors were struggling to adjust to the demands of their new clunky, stagebound sound equipment, Starewicz brazenly embarked upon the production of a full-length animated epic (seven years before Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs).

The Tale of the Fox is sixty minutes of wall-to-wall brilliance.  Starewicz’ approach to folk tales is urbane, witty, and lavishly imaginative.  For decades, this masterpiece was virtually impossible to see, but now all it takes is a simple click to YouTube, where you’ll find a surprisingly clean and attractive print. Sample a bit of the beginning for a taste of the Starewicz style then stick around for the fun ride (and imagine what the world would be like if this had caught on rather than the Disney approach…).

Over the next two days, I’ll be proposing some more 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1930 movies, books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and Pluto

1930 blogging, part 2 of 5

A New Planet for 1930

Pluto, once a planet...

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1930. 

So here’s my second 1930 series possibility:  9 essays on Pluto, once the ninth planet from the sun… now just another dirty iceball on the outskirts of town.

Pluto was both discovered and declared a planet in 1930 only to linger through decades of doubt until the final eclipse of 2006, when it was downgraded to a dwarf planet in the Kuiper belt.  But there will always be more to Pluto than just an ex-planet.  Starting in 1930, Pluto was Disney’s favorite all-purpose mutt, providing dependable support for Mickey and Minnie.  And Pluto will always be one of the Big Three Roman gods (but now he’s the only one without a planet again).

As usual, there’s more to the story than the sound bite that Pluto was bullied out of the solar system for being the runt of the litter.  Here’s a science lesson, delivered by C. G. P. Grey, compressing Pluto’s 76-year run as a planet into five very entertaining minutes:

My biggest problem with the idea of doing 9 essays on Pluto is that I can’t hope to beat C. G. P. Grey’s video for sheer entertaining Pluto-nerdiness.

Over the next three days, I’ll be proposing some more 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1930 movies, books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and the Detective

1930 Blogging, Part 1 of 5
"If they hang you, I'll always remember you."

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1930. 

So here’s my first 1930 series possibility:  21 essays on Sam Spade, private detective.

I’m cheating a bit here because the character of Sam Spade really dates back to September 1929 when the first of five installments of Dashiell Hammett’s novel The Maltese Falcon appeared in the Black Mask pulp magazine.  The serial concluded with the January 1930 issue and was published in book form by Alfred A. Knopf shortly afterward.

Maybe I could attempt to somehow separate my image of Sam Spade from Humphrey Bogart’s 1941 portrayal in John Huston's classic movie adaptation…  but I honestly don’t think I’d be up to the task.  I’ve read the book twice and both times found it impossible to read without picturing Bogart up against Sidney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, Elisha Cook, Jr., and Mary Astor as they size each other up and plot their double-crosses.  All the hardboiled layers of Spade’s personality are present in the book, yet they’re illuminated by Bogart’s performance in a way that leaves the role inseparable from the actor.

So I’m thinking that a close examination of Sam Spade would need to encompass both the 1930 novel and the 1941 movie.  I don’t think I could do it any other way.

Over the next four days, I’ll be proposing some more 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1930 movies, books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price