Reading

That I like to read is no secret. Newspapers especially, and I've always got at least one book in progress on the nightstand. After headlines and subheadings I skip over a lot of things in the newspapers, but I pretty much always read the book reviews in the Monday through Friday Wall Street Journal. I like the WSJ reviews because they are usually not about novels. Leave that to the NYT.

Anyone familiar with daily WSJ book reviews knows they can always be found in the same part of the paper; first section, right hand page before the editorials. I go there right after the front page A-Hed piece.

Monday's book review carried a piece about "Anansi's Gold" by Yepoka Yeebo. The review is by Frank Gannon who was an assistant to the president in the Nixon White House. This has no bearing on the content, but it probably means Frank and I remember the same presidents.

Anansi's Gold is about a consummate con man John Blay-Miezah, who in the mid-1970s was living very well promising people he knew where secreted Ghanaian gold was located in a Swiss bank, he having been at the deathbed of the dying first president of Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah, who confirmed to his ears that there was a boatload of cash, diamonds and 30,000 gold bars plundered from the country sitting in a Swiss bank. The dying president gave John Blay the account numbers and passwords he would need to claim the money.

John Blay, not wanting to keep this all to himself—what fun would that be?—offered partnership shares to whomever would listen to him and put up some money so John Blay could retrieve the booty. 

John Blay travelled in rarefied circles, and no less than Shirley Temple Black, (Yes, Good Ship Lollipop Shirley Temple.) the U.S. ambassador to Ghana saw through him and tried to warn others, notably in a 1975 cable to Secretary of State Henry Kissinger that John Blay was a fraud.

It is not always a bridge someone is trying to sell you. And even if isn't true that a sucker is born every minute, it is true you may not have to look for long to find one. (And certainly more than one.)

It's a great tale, with the name Anansi coming from the author Yepoka Yeebo comparing John Blay to the mythical Ghanaian trickster.

Enter the former U.S. Attorney General John Mitchell, who Frank Gannon describes as being "on his uppers" after release from prison in 1979 who could be counted as one of the many who were hoodwinked.

On his what? His "uppers?" What the hell are they?

Anyone approaching my age will remember the famously long trial in a New York Federal court of John Mitchell and Maurice Stans, the Commerce Secretary, two of the many people caught up in the Watergate scandal vortex. That trial had legs. Our outgoing mail supervisor was on the jury and pretty much disappeared from his family's life and our workplace during that trial. After a ten week trial and an acquittal, our outgoing mail supervisor's dog probably didn't know him.

In another trial for conspiracy, obstruction of justice and perjury, John Mitchell was convicted in 1975, entered prison in 1977 and was released in 1979. Legal defense costs money, even when you lose. No doubt Mr. Mitchell had trouble rubbing two nickels together after all this.

Having to look up the phrase "on his uppers", I found it apparently means someone who is broke, pitifully broke, walking around in shoes so worn that the only thing left to them are "the uppers."

It will remain to be seen if this phrase will someday apply to a former president.

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The Repairman...The Technician

I was born at the end of the 1940s. As such, there was always a TV in the house, a large, round picture tube encased in a nice piece of furniture, kept out of sight if the unit's two doors were closed, visible if the brass hardware, hinged handles were pulled on and the doors were opened.

I have no idea if my parents bought the TV new. New was not their thing. When I was born, I was probably the newest thing they had. Most everything else in the house came from someone else.

The TV was always there. I don't remember it being delivered and a fuss made over its arrival. I seemed to be the only one who watched it. I was an only child, and I can never remember my mother or father sitting down and watching it. It was of course a black and white set. (We never had a color set until 1968 when I added a Zenith set to the household in 1968.)

The set worked. Most of the time, until of course when it didn't. TVs of that era were powered by vacuum tubes that had an amber glow. These tubes eventually burned out and needed replacing. This was accomplished by a TV repairman coming to the house, opening the back of the set and removing the perforated hardboard that kept you away from the tubes.

The back of the set warned you not to go there. It was labeled HIGH VOLTAGE. The repairman moved the unit away from the wall, got on his knees and did some things, holding a mirror in one hand in front of the set while he fiddled with things in the back with his other hand. (It paid to flexible.) It generally fell to me to tell him how he was making out.

You NEVER wanted to hear that the picture tube was "gone." This was guaranteed to cost mucho dinero and probably meant the end of life as you knew it. Nearly equally as bad was to hear, "the set has got to go back to the shop."

This surely meant you weren't going to have TV for probably at least a week. No Lone Ranger for you. No Superman either. The repairman pulled the guts of the set out of the back and left the house with it. It was not fun to watch.

My wife's uncle was a TV repairman in the 1950s and 60s in Freehold, New Jersey. He would tell anyone who would listen that his knees were shot from being on them so much as he repaired sets. Later of course you would learn this was "housemaids" knees or inflamed bursas. An occupational hazard of all TV repairmen.

If the adult male of the house was really adventurous they might look at the back of set, see which tubes were not lit, and go to a hardware, or TV store and buy replacements. This was not something my father did. I don't remember any neighbors bragging that they fixed their own TV.

It's taken a while, but TVs have almost been replaced by computers and their display screens. Not quite completely of course, because they are plenty of big, wide screen TVs that people have, generally mounted on a wall in the living room or family room. What has changed is that no one expects to have these sets fixed if they konk out. Even if there is an extended warranty, you can pretty much bet that the set will konk out after the warranty expires. When this happens, P.C. Richards, Best Buy, or some other TV vendor will be very glad to steer you to a new and more top-of-the-line set. Because no matter how long you've had your TV, there is always a better set for sale.

And when the desktop computer goes, what next? An automatic new one if hours spent on a help line haven't resolved the issue? Not necessarily.

Somehow, with wisdom I didn't think I had, I must have extended whatever warranty that came with the Dell computer I bought perhaps 4-5 years ago. It has served me well, until it decided not to this past Friday.

Time was spent with the support service I also must have bought. The upshot was there was something going on with the hardware. The computer wouldn't stay on. I was hearing the word "motherboard" as  probable cause. In a computer, that sounds like the picture tube has gone. Start spading the earth.

Discussion followed that gave me the alternative of waiting for Dell to ship me a prepaid shipping box, placing the tower in the box, and sending the computer in effect, "back to the shop."

It's been decades, and I really never thought I was going to hear that again. Anything else we can do? We can have a technician come onsite and try and fix it. You mean, come to the house? How much is that going to cost? Well, since you have the extended warranty, nothing. Let's do that. And since it was Friday, the earliest someone can come out is Monday. Works for me.  

(Over the weekend I caught up on all the newspapers I hadn't fully read. I think I've said this before: reading a newspaper several days, and perhaps several weeks after the date it was printed makes reading go much faster. The U.S. women's soccer team has by now lost. I don't need to read how they should be able win if they do certain things. Certain players did not stay on the Mets roster. Trump did get indicted. Again. No use speculating if he would.)

And out they came. They did replace the motherboard, but that may not have been the reason for the failure. Still not staying on. The technician left after ordering parts for Tuesday. And out they came on Tuesday; both times right in the widow they said they would. Updates sent to my phone. It's a new world.

Success this time. Up and running, but with another visit coming tomorrow to replace the power switch which the technician was not happy with. It doesn't light as it should, and it feels mushy. Fine with me. Come on back. I'm always here.

After all these years, it's still good to have the screen in front of me working.

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Heads Up

The following are some headstone inscriptions I'd like to see.

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

I DID WHAT YOU ASKED ME TO DO  

SATISFIED?

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?

I DO NOT LIKE THIS VIEW

I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS

CAN I GET A SECOND OPINION?

YOUR TURN WILL COME

IT IS TOO LATE FOR THAT PHYSICAL?

I'M GOING TO GET EVEN DESPITE THIS

CAN WE TALK?

SO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?

NOW YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A MISTAKE

IT WAS FAR MORE DANGEROUS THAN IT LOOKED

I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN

I GOT MOST THINGS RIGHT

I'M NOT AT ALL HAPPY ABOUT THIS

I'D LIKE A SECOND OPINION

HOW ABOUT A DO OVER?

THIS DIDN'T REALLY HAPPEN, DID IT?

I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK

I'LL GLADLY TRADE PLACES WITH YOU

NOT EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND

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

You can keep adding to this list until...

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The House Always Wins

You have to be of a certain age to remember Manny Ycaza, the rough riding thoroughbred jockey in the '50s and '60s who made you hold your breath after he won races. You never really knew if he was going to be disqualified for some infraction that you may or not have seen, but one that the stewards did see.

My memory of him started in 1967 when he was disqualified in the Jersey Derby at New Jersey's Garden State when he rode the indomitable Dr. Fager and was caught herding, or crowding the field—three! other horses—at the clubhouse turn as he pushed them toward the rail. It was completely unnecessary, and cost Dr. Fager and his connections the win they deserved to have, as he won easily by six lengths. Dr. Fager was placed last.

Fast forward decades and you can still see Manny Ycaza tactics employed by leading rider Irad Ortiz Jr. It is well-known to all who follow thoroughbred racing on the NYRA circuit that Irad is aggressive—sometimes too much—known for herding other horses. The tactic is one of intimidation as Irad leans in toward the other horses and prevents them from going by him. Most times he gets away with it. He's Houdini. He escapes detection and punishment. He is rarely called out on the carpet and disqualified, but it does happen.

The latest example of an Irad transgression occurred yesterday at Saratoga in the Jim Dandy Stakes, a mile and an eighth, once around the Saratoga oval for three-years that is considered a major prep for the upcoming mile and a quarter Travers Stakes later on the calendar in August— The Mid-Summer Derby..

The race drew few, but a select group of five entrants, notably Forte, last year's 2-Year-Old Eclipse champion. Forte is owned by Mike Repole and Vinny Viola's St. Elias Stable, and yesterday ran in Mike's New York Met colors of blue and orange with Irad Ortiz Jr. aboard.

Small fields can produce tricky tactics, and a mile and an eighth race at Saratoga can be won by a horse that goes to the front, slows the race down with tepid fractions, and saves enough for the final plunge toward the wire. If  they do all that, they generally win and pay a nice mutuel.

I've seen several mile and an eighth races at Saratoga (Aqueduct as well) run this way, and sometimes have successfully handicapped them that way and cashed.

Forte was understandably the 3-4 favorite. Forte was ready to run in the Kentucky Derby but was a late, track vet scratch at Churchill because of a suspected sore hoof. This was a major disappointment for Mike Repole, et al. and the trainer Todd Pletcher. They pretty much didn't think it was a warranted scratch, but stopped short of criticizing it publicly.

The Belmont Stakes was the next stop for Forte and he acquitted himself well, despite the layoff. He finished a decent second to Arcangelo.

The goal of any decent three-year-old colt and their connections is to enter the Travers at Saratoga. It's either atonement for prior losses, or a fresh beginning and maybe setting up a win in the Breeders' Cup in November. The Travers is not called the Mid-Summer Derby for nothing.

The possibility of Forte winning kept the field small. There were only four rivals entered against him, with Saudi Crown representing the best chance to defeat him. The odds board reflected Saudi's chances because he went off as second choice at 9-2.

I've been watching all the racing broadcasts on Fox and Fox Sports. I have not however been making any wagers. In fact, I haven't made a wager since having Arcangelo in the Belmont. I'm still enjoying that one.

But, as the post parade unfolded for the Jim Dandy, and the panel of racing handicappers and broadcasters were announcing their picks, I felt that perhaps Saudi Crown could be a good bet if he could get out, take the lead, put them to sleep and waltz home the winner. I was almost right.

He did get out in front under Floret Geroux; he did set soft, front-running fractions of :234/5, :48, 1:121/5,  and 1:37; and was in front until Forte just managed to get in front of him and win by a nose. The final time was 1:493/5; nothing special. It was how Forte came to get in front of him that makes the story and made me think of Manny Ycaza and the boxer Tom-the-Bomb Bethea.

Forte was sluggish and somewhat boxed in on the rail as they came into the stretch. Irad, never one to accept that fact that there is no hole to go through, created his own by barging through the space between Angel of Empire and Saudi Crown, bumping Angel of Empire at least twice while continuing to lean in on Angel of Empire, and even crowded Saudi Crown at the wire as Forte won by s nostril. You knew the INQUIRY sign was coming up, and it did.

The flash of the INQUIRY sign so soon after the finish meant it was a stewards' inquiry. Generally this type of review results in a changed order of finish for someone.

Tongues in the broadcast booth started flying. Rapidly. All kinds of outcomes were predicted. "Forte stays up." "He doesn't stay up." "He was the best horse, but should come down." The two former jockeys who are broadcasters, Gary Stevens and Richard Migliore were both of the strong opinion that Irad and Forte should come down. Irad went beyond aggressive race riding. He was reckless, and didn't deserve to stay up. Greg Wolf, Laffit Pincay, Jonathon Kinchen, Paul LoDuca and Tom Amoss expected a change in the order. Andy Serling thought there should be a change, but didn't think there would be one. Andy was right.

In what seemed like a very rapid review, the stewards announced  there would be no change to the order of finish. Forte stays up, official winner by a nose.

There is nothing that guarantees a stewards' inquiry will definitely change the order of finish, just as there is nothing definite that a claim of foul by a jockey or a trainer will result in a change of order. You just hold your breath and wait for the OFFICIAL sign to come up.

When the OFFICIAL sign went up with no change there was pandemonium in the Repole/Viola camp. Mike hugged Irad and Pletcher with vigor. Anyone who knows anything about Mike Repole knows that he brings lots of people with him. A winner's circle photo for a Repole victory has more people in it than the population of a small country.

My small bet on Saudi Crown went for naught twice. Once when he was nosed by Forte, and again when the stewards didn't change the order of finish, despite a clear violation of the rules of race riding.

The whole thing reminded me of the time when I was following boxing quite a bit decades ago and saw plenty of fights at Madison Square Garden. There was one fight that stood out, that created another memorable fight. 

Pedro Soto was an up and coming young middleweight prospect. He was due to fight someone in what was probably a co-feature 10-rounder when this opponent pulled out. The Garden needed a fill-in and tapped Billy Douglas, a sturdy, older journeyman fighter form Ohio to provide the "opponent" duties of taking on Pedro on short notice.

Billy Douglas at the time was not famous for anything. Eventually he was famous for being the father of Buster Douglas, who in an extraordinary upset in 1990 defeated Mike Tyson in Tokyo with a 10th round knockout.

But the night he took Pedro Soto on he gave the much younger middleweight a boxing lesson. He befuddled Pedro from start to finish and was awarded a unanimous decision.

It was a very popular decision and gave Billy Douglas credibility to be matched again at the Garden against another up and coming middleweight, Tom "The Bomb" Bethea. As with Pedro Soto, be bloodied and befuddled Bethea all night. There was one difference. Billy Douglas didn't get the decision. The decision for Bethea was not popular, but that's the way it was.

One of the fellows I was with, an older fight fan, explained that the decision didn't go Billy's way because of who he fought: a Gil Clancy trained opponent who was a favorite of Garden matchmakers. Clancy was the "house" trainer, and without a clear knockout, you weren't going to get a decision against one of his fighters in Madison Square Garden. You just weren't

The NYRA racing leader boards are dominated by a few owners, trainers and jockeys. The owners Mike Repole, Michael Dubb and Seth Klarman win a huge number of races. Todd Pletcher and Chad Brown win a huge number of races. The two Ortiz brothers, Irad Jr. and Jose almost split the card and are perennially leading jockeys, riding for the three top owners and trainers.

I couldn't help thinking that after the result of the Jim Dandy was made official and there was no change in he order of finish, that the "house" connections prevailed. Home field advantage held.

The house always wins.

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Tony Bennett

Tony Bennett is one person's music I do not have to download just because he's passed away. I've been buying his music and listening to him since the '60s when I got all those assorted vinyl albums from Columbia Record Club for a dollar. I got the album "Songs for the Jet Set," whose album cover was a an aerial shot of Rio de Janerio. Brazilian, Bossa Nova music was becoming wildly popular at the time, and the album featured a few songs of that type.

I never saw Tony perform, but my wife and I did see him at Birdland in December 2019 when the pianist Monty Alexander made the audience aware of his presence; Tony was sitting at ringside with his wife Susan and a few others. I don't think he got up, but he did acknowledge the introduction, turning his head back toward the audience.

As the first show was over and we were leaving, there was a bit of a scrum outside the entrance as Tony left with his wife and others. He looked like he was doddering a bit, but I did mange to get his attention by yelling out "Tony, North Beach." He turned his head to acknowledge.

You'd have to be Tony's age, or around people who were born around the same time as Tony, to know anything about North Beach. Basically, it's where LaGuardia airport is now, created by landfill adjacent to Astoria.

The story goes that Mayor La Guardia was coning back to New York on a flight, but there was no airport in the city to land at. They had to land at Newark, New Jersey. New York City didn't have an airport. Under Mayor La Guardia's command, what was North Beach became landfill and what is now appropriately named LaGuardia Airport.

Tony remembered North Beach, My father, born in 1915, and growing up on Second Avenue in Manhattan would tell me about how his mother took him and his younger brother Jimmy (the two older brothers weren't interested) to the beach via the 2nd Avenue elevated train that ran to Astoria, going over the 59th Street bridge. I have a destination sign from that train, appropriated I do not know by whom or when, that I've given to my oldest daughter Nancy: Astoria via 2nd Avenue. You might say it's been in my family for years: an heirloom.

As he was getting started, Tony was a singing waiter at the restaurant and catering hall Riccardo's by-the-Bridge, hard by the Triboro Bridge. (It closed in 2021.) My wife and I had our wedding reception at Riccardo's in 1975. At the time, I wasn't aware of the Tony Bennett connection.

Ninety-six years is a long life, and 1926-2023 is quite a span of years. Because my father was born in 1915, I feel I know everything about all the years Tony lived in.

I can't seem to corroborate it, but I thought there was a NYC mayor (Mike Bloomberg?) who declared Tony Bennett a living NYC landmark, There is such a thing.

Tony Bennett paid a lot of bills with his recording of "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." But his heart was always in New York, and our hearts were always with Tony.

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Beefcake Charlie

@coreykilgannon, a senior NYT reporter has been absent from Twitter for a bit, but today has come roaring back with two postings, one quite priceless.

Mr. Kilgannon's NYT newsroom view apparently offered him the above distraction at some point today. It looks very much like a male model perched against a building, standing slightly elevated from the sidewalk on a ledge, being photographed in a shirtless, beefcake pose only wearing what looks like a tiny red, white and blue pair of briefs, a headband and sneakers.

And like a now viral photo appearing today of President  Biden wearing a pair of Skechers with no socks, it is impossible to tell if the model is also without socks. I don't really think it matters. (There is a famous photo of 1952 presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson seated on a stage with his legs crossed with a dangling foot showing a sizable hole in the sole of his shoe. The photo won a Pulitzer for the photographer.)

The building ledge the model is posing on is likely near the NYT headquarters on Eighth Avenue and 40th Street, across the street from the Port Authority Bus Terminal.

Manhattan employers have been trying all sorts of inducements to get their employees back into the office after the pandemic. Free food, transportation vouchers and dry cleaning services have had little success in inducing the workers to come back into the office any more than two or three days a week.

Some employers have played hardball threatening to withhold bonuses, or raises unless physical workplace attendance improves. They may have been offering the wrong inducements, and making the wrong threats. 

I don't really know this, but my guess is the median age of the NYT newsroom staff is around 34, likely equally divided amongst male and female employees. I like to think a view such as photographed by Mr. Kilgannon today attracted more people to the window than just Mr. Kilgannon aiming his cell phone.

Management might change their tact on return to work inducements by emphasizing what an employee might be missing by not coming back into the city—namely what views the city offers of itself.

You never know what works until you try it.

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Southern Hospitality

Robert E. Lee Surrenders to General Grant at Appomattox Courthouse

Last week we were at an 80th birthday party for the husband of a couple we've known for decades. They had three children, all of whom have married and have produced 7 grandchildren. There were more cousins at this party than a gathering of Kennedys.

The oldest son of the couple moved to Charleston, South Carolina for an IT job opportunity years ago. He and his wife are doing fine with two young girls of grammar school age. In addition to his daytime job the son has an interest in a micro beer brewery that apparently is doing well, has acquired a new partner, and is branching out into distilled spirits...liquor of some kind.

We don't see this couple often, but the wife had a great story for us of when they first moved to Charleston. She was in a supermarket and noticed an "older gentleman" who was having trouble picking something off the shelf. She approached and asked if she could help.

His ears perked up when he realized he was being addressed by someone who distinctly did not have a Southern accent. She explained they recently moved there from New York. He was quick to reply, "Oh, a Yankee. When do you go back?" She said her jaw dropped and she was left speechless.

And people talk about New Yorkers.

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