Harry Houdini

In a few days time, it will be 100 years ago that Harry Houdini died on October 29, 30 or 31st, 1926, to be exact. The month and year are not in dispute. Not so much the date.

Robin Pogrebin, in the New York Times tells us cause of death is now being questioned. It has always been reported, and therefore assumed, that the great magician passed away from a ruptured appendix that occurred when a college student asked Harry if he could punch him in his fabled tight abdomen to test his claimed legendary fitness, received permission, punched Harry three quick times, and made Harry wince. That was on October 22. Nothing was thought of it at the time.

At least not until seven days later when Harry needed two abdominal operations. The first was on October 29, for the appendix that was thought to have burst. There was a second surgery on October 30 to alleviate the complications from the prior day's surgery. 

Recovery was not made after the second surgery and Houdini passed away. Harry doesn't escape death, and he certainly doesn't escape when it was recorded. The documents were manipulated to show October 31 as his date of death, to coincide with Halloween, a time of year when Harry was  particularly debunking mediums and Spiritualists. 

The eventual burst appendix, and October 31 date of death have held their place in history, at least until 2025 when a retired urology surgeon, Larrian Gillespie, wrote a book, "Houdini, The Man Who Died Twice" and reported on her review of the altered death certificates, and medical reports. Her timeline and series of events goes as follows:

The burst appendix was not the primary cause of death, but rather a "bowel obstruction brought on by a fibrous mass of chop suey that Houdini ate on October 28."

Harry Houdini was born Erik Weisz, (Weiss on his gravestone) in Appleton, Wisconsin, son of a rabbi. It's irrelevant that Chinese food, chop suey, might have been popular with Jewish people even in 1926. Dr. Gillespie has researched that this is what he ate on October 28. How it turned into a "fibrous mass" is not described. If it was takeout, I'm sure Harry didn't eat the paper container. Or did he? No matter. 

Emergency surgery was performed on October 29 to evacuate the bowel. Severe fever, muscle spasms, and unconsciousness set in. 

A second surgery is performed on October 30 from which Houdini died. The second surgery is not mentioned on the death certificate. Operations, plural, are however mentioned in the NYT obituary headline.

The date was made to be October 31 to make his death more mystical. Dr. Gillespie theorizes that the second surgery is not mentioned to avoid what might have been taken to be medical malpractice from  the first surgery.

The death remained classified as an accident in order to allow Houdini's widow to collect a double indemnity payout from his life insurance.

The Canadian university student who punched Houdini three times was vilified his entire life for causing the great magician's death, passed away himself from malnutrition in 1954 was buried in an unmarked Montreal grave.

Joscelyn Gordon Whitehead had an unusual spelling for a guy's first name. Google tells us, not unsurprisingly, it is Old French in origin:

archaic, medieval spelling of a historically masculine name derived from the Old French Joscelin and Germanic Gauzlin. While it was traditionally given to men in the Middle Ages, the spelling and name are viewed as predominantly feminine today.  

Dr. Gillespie's research and book have removed the stigma of attributing Houdini's death to some punches thrown by Mr. Whitehead. 

Larrian is seen in the photo standing over a headstone she ordered, paid for, and had installed where Mr. Whitehead is buried.

Standing to her right is George Hardeen, a great-nephew of Houdini; to her left is D. Whitehead, a relative of Joscelyn Gordon Whitehead.

The headstone reads:

WHITEHEAD
Joscelyn Gordon
November 25, 1896
July 5, 1954
Falsely Accused No More

Now if we can clear up the spelling of Houdini's birth surname.

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Slinger Francisco

Who would write in an obituary that this deceased Calypso singer's renowned voice was, among other things...an example of extraordinary verbal prestidigitation...?

I found out when I looked up at the byline in yesterday's New York Times at what was the advance obit written by Margalit Fox.

Ms. Fox more completely describes Mr. Francisco's verbal charms as: "...Slinger Francisco—was renowned for his sonorous voice, unremitting energy and extraordinary command of the verbal prestidigitation and sly double-entendre..." I have to say, I still never heard of the guy.

Ms. Fox, as any long-time reader of NYT  obituaries knows, was one of the more than clever obit writers whose ledes and choice of subjects could nearly rival those of the now long-departed Robert McG. Thomas Jr.

Ms. Fox left the Times more than a few years ago to devote herself to writing works about ancient language and even a tale of Sherlock Holmes's author Canon Doyle solving a crime himself.

Margalit is missed, but somewhat like a corpse in the river, will pop up when the subject she was assigned to do an advance on finally passes on, and her obit floats to the surface to be retrieved by readers. Margalit is just not on the payroll anymore.

Based on all the names of the famous people who admired Mr. Francisco, I am surely nearly alone in never having heard of him, despite liking all kinds of music. I must say that my Calypso exposure has been confined to Harry Belafonte, who gets a brief mention in the obit.

Ms. Fox gives us the cultural origins of Calypso by telling us:

"Calypso, the most emblematic music of the English-speaking Caribbean, was born centuries ago among the African slaves forced to work on colonial plantations there. The calypso song became a potent form of social commentary—an amiable syncopated number with a sting in its tail." 

Every time I hear the recording of Harry Belafonte starting to sing "Day-O, Day-O" at ball parks I think that the crowd probably doesn't know it's called the 'Banana Boat Song' and the lyrics are about the nighttime loading of bananas on ships by the native, Calypso singing longshoreman.

They are singing "Day-O, Daaaay-O, Daylight come an' I wan' go home" to hurry up the end of the night shift, when loading the boats is easier because the night air is cooler.

As usual, when a singer passes away who I'm not familiar with, I go to iTunes and sample some of their songs. I have to say, Mr. Francisco's songs do not make me wish I discovered him sooner. They are loud, heavy on the horns, and with lyrics I can barely make out. Certainly in a live setting he would be entertaining to me, but not as a recording artist. I think I downloaded one or two, just to have them pop up on my iPod this winter when garage woodworking starts.

But the real surprise in Mr. Francisco's obit is when Margalit reveals that Robert Mitchum, the actor Robert Mitchum, recorded an album or two of calypso music. Does TCM know this? This is easily the first I've ever heard of this, and I only wish my friend Johnny M. were still alive to absorb this news along with me. THIS IS MAJOR STUFF.

Yep, iTunes, and there is a Mitchum calypso beat song, "The Ballad of Thunder Road" from an album "Calypso is Like So..." It's more a tale of a moonshiner and his last run, so it doesn't seem to fit an image of a Caribbean island, but Mitchum sings (talks?) his way through the lyrics. Think Richard Burton without a Welsh accent doing selections from Camelot. I bought the CD.

It is this kind of buried revelation that makes reading tribute obits a must read. 

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The Reimagined Belmont

There is no better feeling than walking into a racetrack, betting the first race—and hitting. It's even better when the racetrack is the "newly reimagined Belmont" and you're there for its maiden weeks, sailing into history.

I was at Belmont yesterday for a nine race card. I got a seat, with a back, that was closer to the finish than I imagined it would be. In fact, I was in front of the "Secretariat Pole," the skinny, blue and white marker just inside the 16th pole that indicates where the second place horse was in the 1973 Belmont Stakes when Bid Red was crossing the finish line with a 31 length lead and record setting time. (I was there, standing on a seat in the last 3rd floor section, section screaming at my friend, "look at the time, look at the time." Ron Turcotte was caught looking at it too.)

I will say the new Belmont has vastly improved sightlines; a longer stretch, (the old Belmont stretch was shorter than Aqueduct's. It's true.) and from the second floor, a closeness to the track that you didn't have before.

Sitting at the Secretariat Pole and looking to the right at the finish line, I have to say it doesn't look like a great distance; but it is for a margin of victory. It is very nearly the length of a football playing field.

Not sure if I like the single, huge tote/replay screen dominating the center viewpoint. No possible exacta combinations are displayed, only the flashing of latest odds and the center video screen. Exacta, and double possibles are visible on any of the many televisions.

The place is not finished. The infield is a mess of ongoing construction, no doubt putting a lake in, and making what will be spectator accommodations for Belmont Day, and possibly the Breeders' Cup.

The upper floors are not open yet. I'm hoping there will be a 3th floor, and maybe even a 4th floor that will allow spectator viewing that looks over the many, many boxes below.

The paddock landscaping, outside of th ancient Japanese white pine, is in place to grow, but is hardy there yet. The place looks sparse for now.

The turf courses look lush, and the Tapeta looks ready to be put to use again when races come off the turf. Off-the-turf-days will no longer default to the main track, generating a slew of scratches, creating unwelcome small fields. Even though Tapeta is the closest thing there is to turf, handicapping adjustments will have to be made.

                                          

Only two of the Assembled made the outing; Bobby G. and Johnny D., a newly minted nonagenarian and a teetering, septuagenarian, who were somewhat pooped by the amount of walking there was to do, making the way from the Elmont-UBS arena LIRR station  (despite a welcome, and unexpected shuttle service) and the trek from one of the parking lots. 

Hopefully, the remaining third member of the Assembled will be available to come when the next outing is planned; as yet to be determined.

So, how did the rest of day go for Bobby G—who also hit the first race—and Johnny D?

Bobby G. netted a profit that added a Ulysses S. Grant to his wallet. Johnny D. continued his history of winning the last race—an uncanny ability that stretches back over 50 years—resulting in a net loss that represented the cost of two pepperoni slices. No major financial setback there.

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The Straight Poop from the New York Times

I never know what I'm going to be writing about next. Obituaries can always be counted on for some of the inspiration, and in the case of the passing of Edward Lehner, Who Got New Yorkers to Pick Up After Dogs, Dies at 93 I was touched again by a muse.

The "pooper-scooper" law went into effect in 1978, so long ago that there is at least a full generation of city dwellers who have no idea what it might have been like to walk the streets, sidewalks, and areas of parks, with either skirting around do-do, or, if personal poop radar failed, to actually stepping it in. It was messy.

Sarah Lyall, a senior writer-at-large for the New York Times, who most recently has been on the book beat, was either thrown in the dog house to write the poop obit, or is accepting a new assignment like a pro and turning in a gem no matter what desk she's assigned to. Either way, the "pooper-scooper" gets a detailed narrative of its origins set off by the passing of the law's major sponsor, Edward Lehnar.

Mr. Lehner, center

We learn Mr. Lehnar was a lawyer, judge, and state assemblyman who grew tired of skirting city poop, or even finding he had stepped in it. There has to be a better way. There was. Legislation.   

The pooper-scooper bill was introduced in 1977 by Mr. Lehner in the state Assembly, and co-sponsored in the Senate by Frank S. Leichter. Ms. Lyall tells us "before the passage of Public Health Law 1310, as it was officially known, New York city was a minefield of dog dirt."

I remember the outcry from dog owners who were then going to henceforth have to pick up after their dogs when they crouched down to do their do-do—no matter on what surface they found themselves on. 

New Yorkers don't like to be told to do anything that they don't want to do. Ms Lyall doesn't tell us how often tickets were generated for the offence of not picking up after the pooch. My guess is there were certainly tickets, but an honor system slowly took hold over the dog owners who acceded to doing the pickups, and the sidewalks, streets and parks were eventually much, much cleaner. And they still are. 

In the mid-70s Mario Cuomo was not yet governor, he was a lawyer in Queens and eventually the state's Secretary of State. His oratorical powers wee not yet widely evident, but they were brewing. 

Ms. Lyall has unearthed an example of Mario's flourishes, when she tells us the story behind a memo he composed.

"The purpose of he bill is laudable, i.e. to require each pet owner to take care of their own," the future Gov. Mario M. Cuomo, then New York's secretary of state, wrote in a memo outlining his department's view of the bill. "But not only would an officer have to catch a dog and his owner in flagrante delicto to enforce the law," he added, "there would be the sticky problem of proving that a particular piece of evidence emanated from a particular aperture."

Well said, from a man who became a three-term governor of the state, who made a stirring speech with the lights out at a Democratic presidential nominating convention, and for whom the Tappan Zee bridge was renamed.

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September 11 2001 and September 16, 2002

For the first time in many years, I missed posting this on the anniversary date of the shootings at Empire BlueCross and BlueShield. 

I didn't mean to forget what cannot be forgotten. I got distracted with something else on 9/16. 

But here it is on 9/21, not too many days after.

-------------------------------------

The following memorializes the terrorist events of 9/11/2001 at New York's World Trade Center and those of the executions at Empire Blue Cross and Blue Shield on the morning of 9/16/2002 at 1440 Broadway, our temporary office space after losing our offices on 9/11.

The dates on the stones let you measure the time
Of the lives that lived in between.
The bracketed years reveal to the current
The joys and the troubles they've seen.

On any given day a person is born
You can record the date of their birth.
And on any given day a person can die
And you can record that they've left this earth.

And the morning we made our dusty descent,
An accomplishment undiminished,
We learned of the others and their bracketed date,
And our own, that remained unfinished.

So it is incredible to believe the end can be met
At the hands of someone we knew.
He put an end to life, he put an end to himself,
But he didn't put an end to you.
______________________________________________

September 16, 2002

Twenty-four years is not a so-called milestone anniversary, but no less memorable.

No one ever dies
Who lives in hearts
Left behind.

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The Travers 2026

I'm not being paid to add 'Draft Kings' before Travers, so I won't refer to its sponsor.

Like a Super Bowl that's hyped, hyped, hyped, the actual running of the race was flat. But there's one thing about horse racing, no matter the outcome, there is always someone who is happy about the results. The winner.

In this case, it's the connections of Leading Change, a lightly raced colt who was making his 3rd start!, undefeated, with a maiden score and a win in the Indiana Derby, trained by Brad Cox and ridden by the resurgent Manny Franco who absolutely can do no wrong lately at Saratoga, actually closing in on the leading jockey title, who rewarded his backers with a $22.76 win bet, who let the air of all those who were going to crown Golden Tempo as the Eclipse award winning 3-year-old, who was going to have another showdown with Mike Repole's Renegade. 

The Travers, pre-race, screamed "race-of-..." you fill in the blank. Year, decade, 21st century, whatever you like. The talking heads could not stop talking about the "can't-wait-for race."

With so many people prognosticating how the race would be run and who would win, there were still a few who nailed it: Todd Schrupp, who gets to come to the NYRA/Fox shows on big race days, picked Leading Change. As did the regular anchor, Greg Wolfe.

Todd is a great addition to the desk whose voice has the sonority and speed of an of an auctioneer's, but who is understandable. It's a shame he's not always there.

A race like the Travers that attracts so much attention, like the Kentucky Derby, has to have a "now" horse, touted by all the wise guys who profess to know everything. That horse was Sea Strike, another lightly race colt trained by Chad Brown who won the Curlin Stakes at Saratoga in nice fashion..

Sea Strike could not be mentioned pre-care without effusive comments about their workouts. "Best I've ever seen," by talking head former jockey Richard Migliore. To get excited over a horse because of their workouts is just  plain silly.

Workouts are the exhibition season. Sure they can look good, even great, but they are a contrived, controlled gallop with or without company, with a rider, who might be the intended jockey for the race,  or a lightweight exercise rider, on top of a horse without the full tack. A workout is not a race. When I'm handicapping I look for them to see a sign of activity and planned readiness for the race, but I hardly care if it's a bullet work, (fastest recorded that day amongst all those working out at the track at that distance) or just a pedestrian 492/5 breezing for 4-furlongs.

There were others who were so effusive about the horse's chances coming off the impressive Curlin Stakes at Saratoga that the odds dropped to $3.55 to $1. The horse has "value." Value should be a four-letter word.

What went unmentioned was that the Curlin Stakes was a restrictive race whose conditions were designed for horses who have never won a sweepstakes. In other works, non-winners of a graded stakes race. A bunch much lower in success rates than the assembled for the Travers. So no one was asking the question of who did Strike beat in the Curlin? Sort of like a boxer coming up matched against tomato cans to build their ring record before getting a shot at the title. Not truly a sign of being tested. 

Sea Strike finished 6th after dueling for he lead with Napoleon Solo, who finished 2nd. Sea Strike burned enough money going off at $3.55 to $1. Wise guys not so wise. 

But certainly don't cry for Sea Strike's trainer Chad Brown, who had 4 winners on the card, three of them in stakes races. Win the Travers or not, a card at Saratoga is made for Chad's World.

And although Cherie Deveaux's Golden Tempo didn't win, her Englishman did, in almost scary fashion, taking the H. Allen Jerkens Memorial race at 7-furlongs in the near track record time of 1:20.71

I have to praise whoever designated the drone shot of the start of the race as the opening shot once the gates opened. Englishman got out so fast that he was three lengths ahead of anyone else before the assistant starters were back on the ground. It almost looked like a false start in track and field and you were waiting for the recall gun. Think Usain Bolt running away from a fire.

Deep Flame tried to run with Englishman, but Englishman was having nothing to do with that. He recorded a somewhat slow opening quarter of :23 seconds, followed by a quickened half in 452/5, rocketing to 6-furlongs in 1:082/5, finishing a tick off the track record in 1:203/5.

Englishman reminded me of Dr. Fager's 1968 Vosburgh, but without Fager's 139 pound weight assignment. Englishman looked Deep Flame in the eye like Fager looked at Kissin' George, and said goodbye, easing up on the way to the finish line. When the day was done, it was the best performance on the card. He earned a 117 Beyer, which is in the stratosphere.

The Travers hardly lived up to the hype. Of course, if you were on Leading Change you were not only happy, but you outwitted nearly all the pundits. Or the redundits, as I call them.

José Ortiz's ride was probably criticized in many quarters, but all through the race Golden Tempo didn't look like he wanted to be there.

And certainly the rail wasn't where he needed to be. Kendrick Carmouche after winning a race on Sunday and being interviewed by Maggie Wolfendale commented that the rail has been deep for 5 days now. That's why he took his horse out to the three or four path coming home. He said he could feel through the horse's feet that the rail was deep. Amazing. To us it looks like dirt.

Golden Tempo hadn't had a race over the track, but of course was being reported as training well, after missing some training due to a cold. He missed being entered in the Jim Dandy, a major prep race for the Travers.

He was far back with a slow pace, down on the rail, looking like he was going to be boxed in. At about the sixteenth pole Ortiz found a seam and tried to shoot through it. He did shoot through it. If Golden Tempo accelerated at that point, he would have created a more memorable finish for himself by probably outrunning the surging Leading Change coming down the middle of the track. Golden Tempo just hit the seam, but then didn't surge. It was over for Golden Tempo and he finished 3rd, a length over The Puma.

On the way through the pack that Golden Tempo found themselves behind, and was winding their way through, the chart caller tells us: "...off the inside down the backstretch before tucking to the two path into the far turn, came under urging with seven-sixteenths [just under a half mile to go, 4f] to go, angled in and cut the corner nearly scraping the paint on the fence, closed in through to the finish angling out late to the wire." You are definitely inside if you're scraping the rail.

Looking for Renegade

There were those who were billing the race as a continued showdown between Renegade and Golden Tempo. What happened to Renegade, who finished a dismal 8th?

Renegade's start was a problem. He didn't get out cleanly, was bounced around by others, and was never in the race. The chart caller tells us: "Renegade lunged at the break and then got pinched back at the start by Ocelli and The Puma..." It looked like bumper cars.

Maiden Special Weight races at Saratoga are auditions for those expensive horses that were bid on at those hoity-doity yearling sales. Some of the winners are so talented, fillies and colts, that they will appear in stakes races a week or two later. They are why when you're looking at the pps. for those Juvenile races, you might only see their maiden win—sometimes their first start—winning impressively. 

Such was the winner of Saturday's first race when unraced Club Reign embarrassed the field and won a 6f Maiden Special by 6 lengths in impressive fashion.

I don't know what they paid for Club Reign, but we do know who owns it, first time owner making their first start as an owner, Seattle Sea Hawk Super Bowl champion quarterback Russell Wilson. There is such a thing as beginner's luck.

Wilson and his wife Ciara and two girls were ESTATIC in their box and in the winner's circle. They were poster people for owning a horse. 

Russell follows Jason Werth as a retired professional athlete who has gotten into the game. Club Reign was so impressive to his trainer Beckham Whitworth that he will be entered in the Hopeful Stakes on closing day. Maiden score straight to a stake race. If he's any good, this is where it will be seen.

So as night follows day, the 14th! race went off at 7:19, just squeezing in before sundown. It's been a long day starting at 11:07 when the first race went off. 

The buzz in the picnic area is drained, as well as all the beverages. Some have won money; probably most haven't. The handle topped $60 million, second highest for a Travers day. No doubt those anonymous CAW (Computer Assisted Wagering) people have boosted the handle by an untold number. 

They are not in the picnic area holding beer cans and looking up at the monitors. They are somewhere in darkened rooms lit only by the glow of monitors, where the "smart" money hides. No matter.

There were those who handicapped Leading Change and put their money on him, the bettors who are now called "retail bettors,"—it's almost comical to be called that—and they went home happy.

And there is no happier person than Katie Davis, win or lose, on a mount. The perky, ebullient jockey brought the winner home in the 14th, on maybe the appropriately named People Watching, for trainer Tom Proctor paying $37.48. The house lights are coming on. 

More happy people.

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Dolly

No one didn't like Dolly Parton. She was Sara Lee cakes. "No one doesn't like Sara Lee." She was one person whose music I didn't have to download because they passed away. It was already on my iPod. (Yes, I still have one. Several in fact.)

The name Dolly automatically makes everyone like you. Dolly Madison, President James Madison's ebullient wife, who was so popular throwing White House parties that they eventually named an ice cream after her: Dolly Madison ice cream. No one doesn't like ice cream.

Frank Sinatra's mother was Dolly Sinatra, the queen of Hoboken, leading in all the town's parades. She was the go-to person in Hoboken to go to when you needed help. She wasn't an elected official. She was better than that.

And then there's Dolly the sheep. Dolly was of course a cloned birth of a sheep born to a surrogate mother sheep. This particular Dolly had a face only a mother could love, but of course it was a mother sheep.

Chap GPT tells us:
How they made Dolly.

 Scientists took DNA-containing material from three sheep.

An adult Finn Dorset ewe — they took a cell from her mammary gland. This provided the DNA that Dolly would inherit.

A Scottish Blackface ewe — they took an unfertilized egg cell and removed its nucleus, getting rid of that sheep's DNA.

Another Scottish Blackface ewe— served as the surrogate mother.

The researchers then:

—Fused the adult mammary cell with the enucleated egg.
—Used an electrical pulse to make the resulting cell begin dividing as an embryo.
—Implanted the embryo into the surrogate mother.

The remarkable part was that Dolly was genetically almost identical to the adult Finn Dorset sheep that supplied the mammary-gland cell. It demonstrated that the nucleus of a mature, specialized cell still contains the complete genetic instructions needed to create an entire animal.

And the name?

The scientists jokingly named her Dolly after Dolly Parton because the DNA-containing cell came from a mammary gland. Dolly lived for about 6½ years, had six lambs, and died in 2003. She was preserved and is now displayed at the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh. 

The Dolly experiment was enormously important because it showed that an adult cell's nucleus could be “reprogrammed” back into an embryonic state—a fundamental idea behind later stem-cell and cellular-reprogramming research.

Dolly gave her name to science.

---------------------------------------------------

I remember Dolly on the Johnny Carson show one night when she was discussing how long it took her to put her face and wig on: "I need a good hour. It costs a lot of money look this cheap." Carson of course fell down.

I don't know if that was already a Dollyism, but at that point, on national television, it certainly became one.

Dolly in front of a Dollywood Replica of her Birthplace

At about the time the movie '9 to 5' was in the theaters, Jane Fonda, who co-starred with Dolly in the movie, was on another Carson show and said that when they were filming the movie Dolly took her on a tour of rural Tennessee where Dolly was from. At every turn in those hills and hollows of the Smokey Mountains, Dolly knew everyone, and everyone knew her.

When I saw the movie 'Best Little Whorehouse in Texas' I knew her song 'I Will Always Love' You was a mega hit song.  It's played at the part in the movie when she's got to part from her boyfriend sheriff, Ed Earl Dodd, and move; the do-gooders are putting the brothel, and Miss Mona, Dolly, out of business.

I didn't know then that was written to Porter Wagoner whose show she was leaving to go off on her own. Whitney Houston of course made a huge recording of it. I remember that Dolly was in Carnegie Hall and she commented on Whitney's version, and said she loved it. 

Of course I knew she wrote songs, but 3,000, 1,000 of which have been recorded? Insane. She said she writes all the time, even in the bath. One day wrote 10 songs.

I once caught part of a country music awards show on TV, and there was Dolly, introducing the latest country heartthrob, Randy Travis. Dolly started flirting ever so slightly with him on stage and Randy just forgot everything he was going to say or do; he was smitten and blushing. His composure did return.

'I Will Always Love You' is a great song, and became the massive headline in yesterday's New York Post: We Will Always Love You. American Icon Dead at 80.

I didn't get the Daily News, but Dolly's death certainly hit the trifecta of New York papers as her image appeared above the fold in the Wall Street Journal AND The New York Times.

When the news broke on Tuesday of Dolly's passing, I wondered how the NYT was going to acknowledge her passing. Front page for sure, maybe part of the obit above the fold is what I was expecting.

I was as pleased as I was astonished to see her obit front and center, above the fold, with a huge picture of her early in her career: Rhinestone Studded Superstar Who Lit Up Millions of Hearts. Wow!

President Trump ordered flags to be at half-staff for a week. The only other entertainer to get a half-staff honor was Bob Hope in 2003, and he got a day. (He was, after all, born in England.) 

Saratoga was playing her music before the first race yesterday. The Empire State Building went pink at 9:25 P.M. Get it? 9-two-5, like the movie.

The cupolas at Churchill Downs were lit in her colors.

Someone cleverly altered the FULTON STREET sign in the NYC subway station to PARTON STREET. 

An airport will be renamed.

I always liked Dolly Parton. 

I just never knew so many other people did as well.

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