Two Guitars

Live to be 91, not be seen on television, in the movies, or heard singing a lusty folk song, and people forget you're still alive. Such is the case with Theodore Bikel, who just passed  away at 91. Yes, he was alive just the other day ago.

I have little connection to Theodore Bikel. He was in a 'Twilight Zone' episode, and of course all those other parts that were mentioned in yesterday's obituary. But for me, he was always remembered for two things: being on the 'Tonight Show' with Johnny in the 60s, on the guest couch with his guitar in his lap telling Johnny that "you can be alone with a guitar, but never lonely." Nice. I always like the poetry in that, and of course, it doesn't always have to a guitar that's keeping you company. It can be anything.

Mr. Bikel then of course, accompanying himself on guitar, performed a folk song, probably in a language other than English. In that era, anyone who is my age, we all watched Johnny Carson.

The other memory of Mr. Bikel I have is that in the 60s there used to a joint on 14th Street in New York City, on the south side, between 3rd and 2nd Avenues, closer to 2nd, that was called Two Guitars. It was a night club of seductive Middle Eastern appearance.

It had narrow footage on 14th Street, and was downstairs. There were some green neon lights that surrounded a glossy black and white photo of who was performing. Generally, it always looked like some exotic woman straight out Rick's in Casablanca. Even from the street, the place looked wonderfully sinful.

Too young at the time, and no one ever sent anyone any flowers there, so I never got to see the place. If I walk by the area on the 14th even today, I think of Two Guitars and Theodore Bikel, because one time the glossy photo announced he was playing there. I ached to be able to go in, but I was of course too young, even with a drinking age of 18 at the time.

So, I never got to see Theodore Bikel perform there, or anyone else for that matter. I always imagined I'd meet some luscious-looking woman performing there who would keep me company for the evening. That never happened either.

But I still have the memory of Bikel's words on Johnny Carson.

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New Words

I think in one of these prior postings I discussed the new words I learn from watching British TV shows with the close captioning on. Along with hearing a word or phrase that is unknown, the close captioning give me the  spelling. And the DVR helps plenty here. Because the dialog and scene can be rolled back to the point the word was said and the spelling verified. I think I described keeping notepaper and a pen ready to scribble the words I want to look up later.

It's not always British TV. There can be American shows that send me to the dictionary. 'Louce' on a recent episode of 'True Detective' sent me to the pad and the dictionary.

I thought the use of such a word by the gangster Frank Semyon, played by Vince Vaughn, was a great piece of near-comic irony. In the movie 'Analyze This,' the mafia boss Primo Sidone, played by Chazz Palmiteri, nearly goes into a purple rage over hearing and not knowing what the word 'closure' means. His cuff links nearly fly off, and his collar button nearly stabs his neck.

Primo is not entirely stupid. Just like myself, he vows to go to a dictionary and look up this word "closure." The grammar school nuns in Brooklyn got through to him just a bit.  Frank, in 'True Detective' already knows what 'louche' means. He's using it in a sentence. West Coast/East Coast educations.

But it doesn't have to be a TV episode that creates the weekly vocabulary list. I can get it from reading. Maureen Dowd, as once mentioned, can send me to the big OED book. But it's seldom a novel, or other type of book I might be reading that presents me with a 'Stump the Band' word. At least not until Jason Matthews's book 'Palace of Treason' came along.

Mr. Matthew's book is a post-Cold War spy thriller that is a sequel to his first novel, 'Red Sparrow'. I heard of 'Palace' first, so I dove in. And I'm glad I did. Before even finishing the book I reached back and got his 'Red Sparrow' lined up for my next read. They don't necessarily have to be read in sequence. Each stands on its own.

Quick summary? Very quick. The CIA's Nate Nash, a heroic Dudley Do-Right case officer works with the code-named Russian double agent DIVA, who is Dominika Egorova, a lethal piece of female anatomy who, trust me, you want on your side. Together, they give the Russians and Iranians fits, particularly the successor to Frank Sinatra's nickname, Ol' Blue Eyes, Russian President Vladimir Putin. Yes, that Vlad, a major character.

Picking up on 'YouTube' some book promotional book appearance by Mr. Matthews, a retired veteran  of CIA service after 33 years, and even his wife, a similarly a retired CIA employee, you wonder if it's safe for Mr. Matthew's to be roaming about the country promoting his books. An appearance on a CBS morning show informs us that the first book, 'Red Sparrow' has been optioned for a movie, and might even now be in production.

Reading what is a suspenseful spy thriller, a primer on avoiding surveillance, as well as what is portrayed as a very creative way to disrupt the Iranian nuclear enrichment programs, you really do feel for Mr. Matthew's safety.

Perhaps not to worry, he assures us in a Strand Book store interview, everything he writes is cleared by the CIA, and after 33 years in service, he knows the difference between classified and non-classified material. And really, a spy thriller with recipes? Can you take this guy seriously? You better.

In an NPR interview Mr. Matthews explains that he has always loved reading descriptions of food, of which there are many as the characters go through their daily routines of eating and drinking. It's the locales they're in that make the food they eat, and the descriptions by Mr. Matthews interesting. Characters who ate off the Dollar Menu at McDonald's would be blah.

So, at the end of each chapter, in both books, there is a recipe for a food that has been consumed in the chapter. Mr. Matthews explains there are no measurements, or cooking times, or methods of preparations given. Only ingredients. So, if you're inclined, you can go further with this information that is described by Mr. Matthews, as "how your grandmother cooked." On the fly. I'm not the cook in the family, but anything named Olivier salad, Shashlik-kebabs, Babka Rumowa, or Shirini Keshmeshi raisin cakes, for example, would need to be better translated for me into English before I'd order one. It's a spy book and a cook book. For one price.

The words and acronyms in 'Palace' are enough to give you the impression Mr. Matthew's is extremely well-read. (He does tell an interviewer he does read "assiduously.") He must be fluent in several languages, because there are many words in italics, that are thankfully defined for us mortals.

I particularly loved the Russian words that are supplied for some of the acronyms. Some of these acronyms are well known to anyone who has read any book in the spy genre, and some are not. I'm reminded of the 1972 Team Canada hockey series that gave us a terrific set of eight games as well as a basket full of Russian names we struggled to pronounce: Lutchenko, Tsygankov, Maltsev, Tretiak,  Kharlamov, and more.

If at the end of 'Palace of Treason' you're not just a little bit more proficient in foreign languages, you didn't read the book. Take these on for size.

Russian
NKVD Narodny Komissariat Vrntennih Del
KGB Komitet Gosudarstevenny Bezopasnosti
SVR Slozhba Vnesheny Razvedki
GRU Glavnoye Razvedyvatel'noye Upravleniye

German
SBE Spezialle Bundestatigkeiten-Einheit

And then there's us.

American
FEEB Member of the FBI
SDR Surveillance Detection Route
SRAC  Short Range Agent Communication

There are other words that just send me to the dictionary. These are not italicized, or explained.

Six (Not the number)
Becket (Not a typo; found in a SWCS)
Virago
Termagant
Gorgon (These three words are used to describe one person, in one chapter. She's an animal.)
Haruspex
Ribollita (At the end of this chapter, the recipe for ribollita is given. )

Mr. Matthews is asked if the Cold War is over, why then this book? Mr. Matthews replies, "It's humming along nicely." He reminds us of the 11 Russian illegals who were bounced from the US in 2010. These were Russians in deep cover acting as suburban American citizens who were trying to turn people to steal secrets. The FX show 'The Americans' portrays this type of activity.

And something as current as the Iranian nuclear program? It's here. And if after the latest agreement is approved or not, if there's a seismic rumble in Iran and phosphorous rods in the floor of a centrifuge explode and burn the place down, then I really think Mr. Matthews and his whole family might have to disappear for the own safety.

The third book may not have his name attached to it.

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Fashion from Australia

 

It is not new, but it is new to me. 'Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries' on one of the public-TV stations. I've seen a few segments, but now seem to be getting them fed to me in series order. Last night I caught S1E1, the new shorthand telling anyone who cares, that it is Season One, Episode One. In the beginning.

The DVR is like a tossed fishing net. Set it out to program a series, like 'Masterpiece Mysteries', and it comes back with all kinds of possibilities that you weren't aware of. If you don't like what you caught, you throw it back with the Delete selection.

Miss Fisher, 'The Honoruable Phryne Fisher', as she in introduced, is a lady detective. The Honourable is a British designation indicating rank, given to children of Earls and Viscounts. A companion, a female doctor who dresses like a man, tells us Phryne doesn't come from money, but has a title. Socially she's up there a bit, but she's below the upstairs crowd at 'Downton Abbey', apparently.

If she doesn't come from money it only must mean she doesn't come from obscene wealth. Phryne  certainly travels and checks into some well appointed circles. And who paid for all those clothes? Where the producers of these shows get the backdrops and props to re-create the period is a marvel. The series is set in 1929 Melbourne Australia, so it has British flair, but is an Australian TV production. 

Phryne Fisher, as played by a kewpie doll Essie Davis, appears in more scenes with more costume changes than Leslie Stahl in one of her '60 Minutes' segments. Phryne is "smashing." Phryne is high fashion, and never gets her lipstick smudged, even when she kisses someone. She is Nora Charles without the husband, the martinis, and the dog. She's got her own crew.

If Bruce Jennner really wants to be a women, then she should observe and dress like Phryne. There'd be no mistaking Bruce for a female if she looked and moved like Phryne.

Phryne is thoroughly modern in thought, packs a pistol as well as one of Marie Stopes devices that allows her to be selectively amorous without creating an unwanted pregnancy. She is a 'Downton Abbey' Lady Mary without the big house. She knows real cocaine when she daintily licks some off her finger and can dance the legs off anyone. She drinks socially, but has not been seen smoking. If you could, you'd like her to meet your mother.

So, the U.K. crowd has given us a summer of male and female eye candy. Ross Poldark is the hairy chested brooding hunk, who scythes the meadow with his shirt off. And Phryne Betty-Boobs her way into solving the least complicated of crimes ahead of the two man Melbourne police force, lead by Inspector Jack Robinson.

Labor Day is a bit off, and it looks like we'll have a summer of recorded TV to get us through the heat waves and menu of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers.

Thank God there will always be an England. And Australia.

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Ticker Tape Parade

I had a uncle who at about the time Fiorello La Guardia was Mayor of New York City thought it would be a good idea for the city to give Amelia Earhart a ticker parade in the hopes she'd show up and no longer be missing. The idea was rejected by Hizzoner. My uncle was unfazed by the rejected suggestion and continued drinking.

I was thinking of this when the city announced plans for the ticker tape parade for the U.S. Women's soccer team that had just won its third World Cup tournament. It was a great gesture, and by all accounts everything went well this past Friday at the parade. The soccer team was not missing, and showed up in force.

If anyone has paid attention to the sidewalk along both sides of Broadway in Lower Manhattan, they would have surely seen the commemorative markers in the cement for the various people a parade has been given for. I was somewhat surprised at how many people connected with swimming the English Channel have been honored.  Gertrude Ederle, the first woman to swim the Channel in 1926 is of course there. She was a native New Yorker, an Olympic Champion and world record holder in five swimming events. A natural to have a parade for.

My own experience with ticker tape parades consists of watching the Apollo astronauts go by our offices at 2 Park Avenue in 1969 after the lunar landing. The parade route took a route that was headed for the UN that day.

Then there was the Canyon of Heroes parade for the World Champion Yankees in 1999. We could see a slice of that parade as it made its way up Broadway from our 29th floor World Trade Center offices. After the parade passed, and before the cleanup, I went down and gathered some balls of shredded paper as a souvenir. I jokingly handed some out to colleagues and kept one for myself in hopes it would be a lasting souvenir.

The souvenir part didn't last long, since everything in that office was lost to the destruction of 9/11. I did get two of my id cards back from the reclaiming efforts that went on at Great Kills, Staten Island, but that is another story.

Someday soon I plan to go back down to Lower Manhattan and walk the Canyon of Heroes parade route and take note of the categories of people who have been so honored with embedded sidewalk plaques. I know I won't see one for Miss Earhart, but my uncle did have a good idea: advertise.

It certainly worked when they plastered crime figure Whitey Bulger's mug on a Times Square Jumbotron in the hopes that someone would call in a tip and one of the FBI's most wanted fugitives would be found. Which of course he was in a matter of days.

It was even an idea that paid for itself. Secreted in the walls of Whitey's condo the authorities were said to find somewhere near $800,000 in cash.

It really does pay to advertise.

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A Sighting

It was by no means a good sign.

Earlier this week, Germany's Chancellor Angela Merkel was seen striding through the Chancellery in Berlin carrying what looked like a shopping bag. In fact, you had to look close to realize it was Ms. Merkel, such was her appearance, resembling more of Charles Laughton after a month of ingesting Nutra-Slim than a healthy and robust Ms. Merkel. The lengthy, late-night negotiating sessions were eating away at her, it seemed.

And what is in the shopping bag? Redeemable empties in case the failure of Greece to negotiate debt relief pulls the Euro down so far that the only real currency is that of empty Beck's beer bottles? A backup plan is always prudent, but will this be enough? Can Germans empty that many bottles of Beck's that they can float a new currency, or merely float down the Rhine themselves?

Or maybe it's Drachmas, in case Greece re-negotiates the debt, but pulls out of the Euro and reinstalls their beloved Drachma. Again, that's why they call it a hedge fund: play both sides down the middle with enough math and hope you win no matter which way the wind blows.

Thankfully, all this was earlier in the week. Things started to look better as the Greeks seemed to be coming around to accepting that they may actually have to pay something back, or be folded into Italy, a prospect neither country was looking forward to.

Subsequent photos of Ms. Merkel (not provided here yet) later in the week did start to show her improvement in health and what she was carrying.

Now, if someone will get Greece's Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras a necktie, sartorially splendor will be restored, and neither he or Ms. Merkel will look they're worried about money.

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Ways to Say Good-Bye

The Willie Nelson/Buddy Cannon lyrics in
'I Thought I Left You' couldn't be blunter.

You're like the measles, you're like the whooping cough
I've already had you, so why in heaven's name can't you just get lost?

The song is on the fairly new release of a Willie Nelson CD. And there's more, in case that set of words isn't enough to make someone understand they are no longer wanted in any shape, or form.

I thought I left you
What part of "it's all over" don't you understand?

The song's meaning is quite specific: Get lost.

When I first heard the song and its reference to measles and whooping cough I was hooked on the lyrics. Yeah, I had that, and I want no part of it again.

So when I read the recent obituary for Burt Shavitz, a founder of Burt's Bees who has passed away at 80, I was reminded of Willie's song.

Burt and I had one thing in common: we both grew up in Flushing, New York. After that, Burt's life didn't resemble mine in the least.

His life was more than colorful: it was lucrative. And greatly lucrative for the hitchhiker he once picked up. Together they started Burt's Bees in 1984, a line of natural skin care products that was eventually sold to Clorox for $925 million dollars in 2007.

In 1984, the 49-year-old Mr. Shavitz picked up 33-year-old Roxanne Quimby who, as Sam Roberts describes in his NYT obituary for Mr. Shavitz, was a "would-be graphic artist who was working as a waitress and was hitchhiking from her cabin to the local post office."

She coupled his interest in bees and beekeeping into an organic lip balm that initially brought in $3,000 a year. But the story climbs from there, and reaches a point where Ms. Quimby, with her two-thirds interest, buys out Mr. Shavitz's one-third interest for $130,000 after Mr. Shavitz has an affair with a company employee. This really is a Burt's and the bees story.

Ms. Quimby later gives Mr. Shavitz $4 million dollars after the company is sold. (It is not clear if Ms. Quimby sold the company to Clorox directly, or she sold the company to someone who later sold it to Clorox, but the numbers get large no matter what.)

Apparently Mr. Shavitz is quite happy with his $4 million and lives the life you might expect of a man who is pictured on the product with a full head of woolly hair, a full bushy beard, all underneath a striped engineer's cap, living shoe-horned in a converted turkey coop on 40 acres in Parkham, Maine.

This past Monday, Ms. Quimby expressed that she and Burt shared "a long and unique journey through many years and probably many lifetimes together and apart. I don't assume that his passing marks the end of that journey."

Did Mr. Shavitz have any regrets about Ms. Quimby? Well, in a 2013 documentary titled "Burt's Buzz," Mr. Shavitz does say, "I'd like never to see her again."

No wonder Willie's CD is titled 'Band of Brothers.'

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Ole. Oy Vay

The only thing that could make this story better were if it really were Ground Hog Day when two prisoners escaped through a manhole cover just outside of the Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora, New York.

As the world knows by now, after being on the run for over three weeks, one of the escaped prisoners, Richard W, Matt was shot and killed by a Federal border agent on Friday. The other prisoner, David Sweat, was brought down by two shots to the torso on Sunday. He is now recovering from his wounds, upgraded to fair condition from serious, and is talking to officials about the details of the escape.

Perhaps the most significant part of the escape to emerge from Sweat's debriefing was that he completed a complete dry run of the escape route the night before he and Richard Matt both popped up out of the manhole cover. Sweat, alone, rehearsed going through leaving the cell, shimming down pipes and crawling through spaces. Obviously, part of good planning was to see if everything was possible.

It was inspired planning and execution. The manhole cover seemed to be in the middle of the street, but just to make sure alternate-side-of-the-street-parking was not going to plop a Ford Explorer on top of the manhole lid, Sweat had to make sure. Or, that a Mister Softee truck or a Trailways bus hadn't broken down and kept the lid down with the weight of an unexpected tire.

We all now know that the expected ride or vehicle that would have taken them to Mexico did not materialize at the key moment of checking out the night air outside the prison walls. But to wander through woods and get no further than 30 miles away from the place does seem like there was no good Plan B in place.

It does tell you that Mexico as a destination is not that desirous. Unable to get there with pre-planned provided wheels, the two men didn't seem to try and procure another way to achieve automotive transport to Mexico.

And what if they were to get to Mexico? As Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump tells us, Mexico exports all their undesirables to us. It is likely that upon hearing about Mexico's export policy from the fledgling candidate, the two men decided to take their chances and stay north, and perhaps get into Canada without tickets to the World Cup, the Olympics or a hockey game.

I mean, who could look forward to being asked to leave Mexico and then face the prospect of coming face-to-face with President Trump? When it comes to looks, he's the male version of Sarah Jessica Parker.

No, mosquito bites and rain are better things to face than that puss attached to a finger-pointing candidate who is unwilling to buy Greece for himself.

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