Ben and Rita are sitting at their kitchen table drinking coffee. She opens a letter, reads it and then looks at him.
"I have wonderful news from my cousin in Houston. He owns a cottage right on the Gulf of Mexico near Vera Cruz. It's a fantastic place. We can have it the week of Cinco de Mayo. It'll be the honeymoon we've been postponing for too long. What do you think, my love?"
"Sounds great. What's it like?"
"It's very isolated and very romantic. It'll be just you and me...just...you...and...me."
"I can't wait. Feliz Cinco de Mayo."
"Let me show you where it is on the map. It's just north of Vera Cruz."
In his office at the Department of the Army, U.S. General Matthew Ridgeway greets his staff who are standing around a table where a large map of Mexico is spread out.
"This will be called Operation Segundo, in reference to the first Mexican War in the 1840s. As a matter of fact, we'll be using a similar plan, a two-prong lightening strike, first at the port of Vera Cruz to be followed by a diversion from the north at various points along the Rio Grande. Our goal is to capture a man in Mexico City named Julius Karchevsky. We've got to get in and out quickly to limit any loss of life. The president is trying to negotiate his surrender by the Mexicans, but in case he is not successful, we must be ready to act within 90 days. I've picked you men because I have confidence you can pull this off. Now, let's discuss details."
They study the map of the area just north of Vera Cruz.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Five Sullivan Brothers
Saving Private Ryan, the Academy Award-winning (including Best Director - Steven Spielberg) 1998 film, can be divided into two parts. Part one deals with the D Day (June 6, 1944) landing at Normandy portrayed in realistic graphic detail. The remainder of the film is about a team of American soldiers led by Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks - nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Roberto Benigni in Life is Beautiful) who are ordered to locate (elsewhere in France and bring back safely) another American soldier, Private First Class James Francis Ryan (Matt Damon) from Iowa.
Private Ryan is considered special because his three brothers had all recently been killed in action. Saving Private Ryan is fiction. However, on November 13, 1942, five Sullivan brothers (George, Frank, Joe, Matt and Al) from Waterloo, Iowa were all killed in action when their ship, the USS Juneau, was sunk. The five Sullivan brothers had all enlisted in the U.S. Navy on January 3, 1942 with the stipulation that they all serve together.
The USS Juneau, a United States Navy light cruiser, was sunk by a torpedo from a Japanese submarine at the Battle of Guadalcanal. Six hundred eighty-seven sailors, including the five Sullivan brothers, perished.
When letters from her sons stopped arriving, their mother reached out to the Office of Naval Personnel in January of 1943. A few days later, three U.S. Navy uniformed representatives arrived at the Sullivan home to give them the horrible news.
"As a direct result of the Sullivans's deaths, the U.S. War Department adopted the Sole Survivor Policy" in 1948. An example of this policy is as follows.
In 2009, Jeremy Wise, a former Navy Seal and then a military contractor, was killed in Afghanistan. In 2011, his brother, Ben Wise, an Army Special Forces Combat Medic, was also killed in Afghanistan. As a result, the third brother, Beau Wise, a marine deployed in Afghanistan in 2011, was "immediately relieved of combat duties and returned to the United States."
The 1944 film, The Fighting Sullivans, starring Thomas Mitchell (as the father), was based upon the lives of the five Sullivan brothers and their family. It was nominated for one Academy Award (Best Story), but lost to Going My Way.
Private Ryan is considered special because his three brothers had all recently been killed in action. Saving Private Ryan is fiction. However, on November 13, 1942, five Sullivan brothers (George, Frank, Joe, Matt and Al) from Waterloo, Iowa were all killed in action when their ship, the USS Juneau, was sunk. The five Sullivan brothers had all enlisted in the U.S. Navy on January 3, 1942 with the stipulation that they all serve together.
The USS Juneau, a United States Navy light cruiser, was sunk by a torpedo from a Japanese submarine at the Battle of Guadalcanal. Six hundred eighty-seven sailors, including the five Sullivan brothers, perished.
When letters from her sons stopped arriving, their mother reached out to the Office of Naval Personnel in January of 1943. A few days later, three U.S. Navy uniformed representatives arrived at the Sullivan home to give them the horrible news.
"As a direct result of the Sullivans's deaths, the U.S. War Department adopted the Sole Survivor Policy" in 1948. An example of this policy is as follows.
In 2009, Jeremy Wise, a former Navy Seal and then a military contractor, was killed in Afghanistan. In 2011, his brother, Ben Wise, an Army Special Forces Combat Medic, was also killed in Afghanistan. As a result, the third brother, Beau Wise, a marine deployed in Afghanistan in 2011, was "immediately relieved of combat duties and returned to the United States."
The 1944 film, The Fighting Sullivans, starring Thomas Mitchell (as the father), was based upon the lives of the five Sullivan brothers and their family. It was nominated for one Academy Award (Best Story), but lost to Going My Way.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
First in Flight
On one of Cristina's first visits to Chapel Hill, we were walking through the parking lot of the office building where I worked when she noticed the North Carolina license plates with the expression, "First in Flight." This of course referred to the Wright brothers historic first flight which occurred on December 17, 1903 (114 years ago today) in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Not only North Carolinians, but all Americans proudly acknowledge this historic scientific breakthrough, by Americans.
However, Cristina was aghast because all Brazilians believe that Alberto Santos-Dumont, a Brazilian, was the true aviator who was "First in Flight." His first flight occurred in Paris, France on October 23, 1906, almost three years after the Wright brothers. So, why do Brazilians believe that Santos-Dumont was "First in Flight" and not the Wright brothers?
Orville and Wilbur Wright were originally from Dayton, Ohio and engaged in experiments to develop a flying machine. As such, they moved to Kitty Hawk (on the Atlantic coast) in 1900 because of its "regular breezes and soft sandy landing surface."
On the historic day, the two Wright brothers "made two flights each from level ground into a freezing headwind gust to 27 miles per hour (43 km/hour)." Orville, going first, flew 120 feet (37 meters) in 12 seconds at a speed of 6.8 miles per hour (10.9 km/hour). Their plane flew about 10 feet (3 meters) above the ground.
When Santos-Dumont was 18 years-old, his family moved from Brazil, where he was born, to France, as his father, who was of French descent, needed medical treatment.
Santos-Dumont, who had also engaged in experiments with flying machines, "finally succeeded in flying a heavier-than-air aircraft...before a large crowd of witnesses...for a distance of 60 meters (197 feet) at a height of 5 meters (16 feet)."
So, what is the difference between what the Wright brothers did in 1903 and what Santos-Dumont accomplished three years later? The Wright brothers airplane did not take off on its own. They used a "launching rail" to get their plane into the air. On the other hand, Santos-Dumont's airplane got off the ground on its own. Does that take off difference matter in deciding who is the real "First in Flight?" Maybe it depends on whether you are American or Brazilian.
However, Cristina was aghast because all Brazilians believe that Alberto Santos-Dumont, a Brazilian, was the true aviator who was "First in Flight." His first flight occurred in Paris, France on October 23, 1906, almost three years after the Wright brothers. So, why do Brazilians believe that Santos-Dumont was "First in Flight" and not the Wright brothers?
Orville and Wilbur Wright were originally from Dayton, Ohio and engaged in experiments to develop a flying machine. As such, they moved to Kitty Hawk (on the Atlantic coast) in 1900 because of its "regular breezes and soft sandy landing surface."
On the historic day, the two Wright brothers "made two flights each from level ground into a freezing headwind gust to 27 miles per hour (43 km/hour)." Orville, going first, flew 120 feet (37 meters) in 12 seconds at a speed of 6.8 miles per hour (10.9 km/hour). Their plane flew about 10 feet (3 meters) above the ground.
When Santos-Dumont was 18 years-old, his family moved from Brazil, where he was born, to France, as his father, who was of French descent, needed medical treatment.
Santos-Dumont, who had also engaged in experiments with flying machines, "finally succeeded in flying a heavier-than-air aircraft...before a large crowd of witnesses...for a distance of 60 meters (197 feet) at a height of 5 meters (16 feet)."
So, what is the difference between what the Wright brothers did in 1903 and what Santos-Dumont accomplished three years later? The Wright brothers airplane did not take off on its own. They used a "launching rail" to get their plane into the air. On the other hand, Santos-Dumont's airplane got off the ground on its own. Does that take off difference matter in deciding who is the real "First in Flight?" Maybe it depends on whether you are American or Brazilian.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Declaration of War
On Sunday, December 7, 1941, naval forces of the Empire of Japan attacked U.S. military installations on the Island of Oahu, the U.S. Territory of Hawaii, killing 2,403 American servicemen and wounding 1,178 others. In addition, eighteen U.S. naval vessels were sunk or damaged. As a result, the following day, Monday, December 8, 1941, U.S. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR) asked for and received a near unanimous Congressional Declaration of War against the Empire of Japan.
Three days later, Thursday, December 11, 1941 (76 years ago tomorrow), Nazi Germany declared war on the United States without any similar provocation. Hours later that same day, the United States reciprocated and declared war on Nazi Germany. (The last U.S. Declaration of War was on June 5, 1942 against Nazi German allies Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania.) So why did Germany declare war on the U.S.?
In its declaration of war, the Nazi government accused the U.S. of violating the rules of neutrality in favor of Germany's enemies, of attacking German military vessels and of seizing its merchant ships. Such incidents started occurring at the beginning of the war in Europe in September of 1939. So why the delay of more than two years until December 11, 1941?
In Berlin, on September 27, 1940, Japan, Germany, and Italy signed an agreement known as the Tripartite Pact. In Article 3, the three countries agreed to "assist one another with all political, economic and military means if one of the contracting parties is attacked by a power at present not involved in the European War or in the Japanese-Chinese conflict." The power they were referring to was the United States.
At the beginning of December of 1941, the Japanese ambassador to Germany, Baron Hiroshi Oshima, informed German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop that war was imminent between Japan and the United States. He asked for German assurances that it would declare war on the U.S. under the terms of the Tripartite Pact. However, Japan attacked the U.S., not the other way around which would have fallen under the terms of the above Pact.
In spite of Nazi Germany's involvement militarily on multiple fronts against the USSR and the UK, Hitler unilaterally decided to declare war on the U.S. One reason was "Hitler's deeply held racial prejudices made him see the U.S. as a...people of mixed race, a population heavily under the influence of Jews and Negroes, with no history of authoritarian discipline to control and direct them. Such a country could never be a serious threat to a country like Germany."
Perhaps Hitler felt personal animus towards FDR. He said, "Roosevelt comes from a rich family and belongs to the class whose path is smoothed in the democracies. I was the only child of a small, poor family and had to fight my way by work and industry."
Perhaps Hitler felt FDR to be his political rival. They both came to power at almost the exact same time, in March of 1933. According to the author, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Hitler contended that the American president had provoked the war to cover up the failures of his New Deal. Hitler claimed, "This man (FDR) alone was responsible for the Second World War."
According to the economist John Kenneth Galbraith, who worked in the Roosevelt Administration during WWII, "It was truly astounding when Hitler declared war on us three days later. It was a totally irrational thing for him to do." Whatever the reasons, the U.S. was now involved in a two-theater world war that would last for three years and eight months before victory was won.
Three days later, Thursday, December 11, 1941 (76 years ago tomorrow), Nazi Germany declared war on the United States without any similar provocation. Hours later that same day, the United States reciprocated and declared war on Nazi Germany. (The last U.S. Declaration of War was on June 5, 1942 against Nazi German allies Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania.) So why did Germany declare war on the U.S.?
In its declaration of war, the Nazi government accused the U.S. of violating the rules of neutrality in favor of Germany's enemies, of attacking German military vessels and of seizing its merchant ships. Such incidents started occurring at the beginning of the war in Europe in September of 1939. So why the delay of more than two years until December 11, 1941?
In Berlin, on September 27, 1940, Japan, Germany, and Italy signed an agreement known as the Tripartite Pact. In Article 3, the three countries agreed to "assist one another with all political, economic and military means if one of the contracting parties is attacked by a power at present not involved in the European War or in the Japanese-Chinese conflict." The power they were referring to was the United States.
At the beginning of December of 1941, the Japanese ambassador to Germany, Baron Hiroshi Oshima, informed German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop that war was imminent between Japan and the United States. He asked for German assurances that it would declare war on the U.S. under the terms of the Tripartite Pact. However, Japan attacked the U.S., not the other way around which would have fallen under the terms of the above Pact.
In spite of Nazi Germany's involvement militarily on multiple fronts against the USSR and the UK, Hitler unilaterally decided to declare war on the U.S. One reason was "Hitler's deeply held racial prejudices made him see the U.S. as a...people of mixed race, a population heavily under the influence of Jews and Negroes, with no history of authoritarian discipline to control and direct them. Such a country could never be a serious threat to a country like Germany."
Perhaps Hitler felt personal animus towards FDR. He said, "Roosevelt comes from a rich family and belongs to the class whose path is smoothed in the democracies. I was the only child of a small, poor family and had to fight my way by work and industry."
Perhaps Hitler felt FDR to be his political rival. They both came to power at almost the exact same time, in March of 1933. According to the author, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Hitler contended that the American president had provoked the war to cover up the failures of his New Deal. Hitler claimed, "This man (FDR) alone was responsible for the Second World War."
According to the economist John Kenneth Galbraith, who worked in the Roosevelt Administration during WWII, "It was truly astounding when Hitler declared war on us three days later. It was a totally irrational thing for him to do." Whatever the reasons, the U.S. was now involved in a two-theater world war that would last for three years and eight months before victory was won.
Sunday, December 3, 2017
So, Who's Van Johnson?
Van Johnson "was the embodiment of the boy-next-door wholesomeness (that) made him a popular Hollywood (movie) star in the '40s and '50s." His big break came in 1943 when he was cast in A Guy Named Joe with Spencer Tracy and Irene Dunn. This was followed by such hit movies as Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo (1944) again with Spencer Tracy, Between Two Women (1945) with Marilyn Maxwell, Thrill of a Romance (1945) with Esther Williams, and Week-End at the Waldorf (1945) with Lana Turner. He tied Bing Crosby as the top box office movie star in 1945.
In 1954, Van Johnson starred in the film The Caine Mutiny along with Humphrey Bogart, Fred MacMurray, and Jose Ferrer. It is the fictional story of a mutiny aboard a U.S. Navy ship during World War II. (There has never been a mutiny aboard a U.S. Navy ship.) The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards (but won none), including Best Picture (lost to On The Waterfront) and Best Actor (Bogart lost to Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront).
Prior to the mutiny, Lieutenant Keefer (MacMurray), the communications officer of the USS Caine and the villain of the story, tries to convince Lieutenant Meryk (Van Johnson), the executive officer, that the ship's captain, Captain Queeg (Bogart), is paranoid and unfit for duty. During a violent storm at sea, Queeg, who was "frozen, either by indecision or fear," is unable to issue an order as to what to do. Meryk takes command of the Caine (over the objections of Queeg) and the ship survives the storm.
When the Caine returns to Pearl Harbor, Meryk is put on trial for mutiny and is defended by Lieutenant Greenwald (Ferrer). In order to save his client, Greenwald reluctantly but relentlessly cross-examines Queeg causing him to suffer a "mental breakdown" while on the witness stand.
It was during the summer of 1994 that I crossed paths with Van Johnson. I had taken my nine year-old son Bret to Chicago to visit relatives, but also to see a baseball game at historic Wrigley Field, home of the Cubs. We were returning to New York, waiting for a flight from O'Hare Airport. I was standing in line at the check-in counter by our gate when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and instantly recognized seventy-eight year-old Van Johnson.
When I returned to my seat in the waiting area by Bret, I kept my eyes on the Hollywood star. As Van Johnson had a first class ticket, he was the first passenger to board the plane. Next came an announcement allowing customers with children to board early. I jumped at the opportunity and we followed a young woman pushing a baby stroller.
When Bret and I entered the plane's cabin I saw Van Johnson sitting on the right side of the plane in the first row seat by the window. All the stewardesses were hovering over him and I could tell by the smile on his face he was enjoying their attention. As we passed by, I reached out to shake his hand.
I said, "Mr. Johnson, I enjoyed your performance in The Caine Mutiny."
He responded in jest, "Do you want your money back?" I didn't have the heart to tell him I had seen it multiple times on television for free.
As Bret and I moved down the aisle to our seats, I overheard the young woman in front of me talking to herself. "So, that's Van Johnson...So, who's Van Johnson?" I was too shocked by her ignorance to tell her.
In 1954, Van Johnson starred in the film The Caine Mutiny along with Humphrey Bogart, Fred MacMurray, and Jose Ferrer. It is the fictional story of a mutiny aboard a U.S. Navy ship during World War II. (There has never been a mutiny aboard a U.S. Navy ship.) The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards (but won none), including Best Picture (lost to On The Waterfront) and Best Actor (Bogart lost to Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront).
Prior to the mutiny, Lieutenant Keefer (MacMurray), the communications officer of the USS Caine and the villain of the story, tries to convince Lieutenant Meryk (Van Johnson), the executive officer, that the ship's captain, Captain Queeg (Bogart), is paranoid and unfit for duty. During a violent storm at sea, Queeg, who was "frozen, either by indecision or fear," is unable to issue an order as to what to do. Meryk takes command of the Caine (over the objections of Queeg) and the ship survives the storm.
When the Caine returns to Pearl Harbor, Meryk is put on trial for mutiny and is defended by Lieutenant Greenwald (Ferrer). In order to save his client, Greenwald reluctantly but relentlessly cross-examines Queeg causing him to suffer a "mental breakdown" while on the witness stand.
It was during the summer of 1994 that I crossed paths with Van Johnson. I had taken my nine year-old son Bret to Chicago to visit relatives, but also to see a baseball game at historic Wrigley Field, home of the Cubs. We were returning to New York, waiting for a flight from O'Hare Airport. I was standing in line at the check-in counter by our gate when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and instantly recognized seventy-eight year-old Van Johnson.
When I returned to my seat in the waiting area by Bret, I kept my eyes on the Hollywood star. As Van Johnson had a first class ticket, he was the first passenger to board the plane. Next came an announcement allowing customers with children to board early. I jumped at the opportunity and we followed a young woman pushing a baby stroller.
When Bret and I entered the plane's cabin I saw Van Johnson sitting on the right side of the plane in the first row seat by the window. All the stewardesses were hovering over him and I could tell by the smile on his face he was enjoying their attention. As we passed by, I reached out to shake his hand.
I said, "Mr. Johnson, I enjoyed your performance in The Caine Mutiny."
He responded in jest, "Do you want your money back?" I didn't have the heart to tell him I had seen it multiple times on television for free.
As Bret and I moved down the aisle to our seats, I overheard the young woman in front of me talking to herself. "So, that's Van Johnson...So, who's Van Johnson?" I was too shocked by her ignorance to tell her.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Born in Oswego
Readers of my blog know I was not born in Oswego, a city I consider to be my hometown, even though I was not born there. I lived in Oswego full time from a few days after my birth until my matriculation at Penn eighteen years later (not counting five summers at Eagle Cove). I am almost envious of those tens of thousands who can say they were actually born in Oswego because their connection was from day one. Most of them were normal people who lived normal lives, nothing special. However, some were special.
Erik Cole was born in Oswego on November 6, 1978 (currently 39 years-old). He graduated from Oswego High School in 1996, having played ice hockey for the Buccaneers (a sport that was not offered in 1963 when I graduated). The following winter, Erik moved to Des Moines, Iowa to play in the United States Hockey League (for amateur players under twenty years-of-age). He then matriculated at Clarkson University (Potsdam, New York) where he played ice hockey three seasons for the Golden Knights.
In 2000, Erik signed a professional contract with the Carolina Hurricanes (Raleigh, NC) of the National Hockey League (NHL). After playing a little over one season in a minor league, he began playing for the Hurricanes. Erik played 13 seasons in the NHL, mostly with Carolina, scoring 271 goals.
The highlight of Erik's career was 2006 when, as a Hurricane, he was a member of the NHL championship team. Thus, the name Erik Cole is written on the world famous Stanley Cup. He retired from professional ice hockey this past September.
David McConnell was born in Oswego on July 15, 1858. He attended the Oswego State Normal School (the same as did my mother) with the intention of becoming a math teacher. Instead, David entered the world of business. He started out selling books house to house for the Union Publishing Company, making his home in Atlanta, Georgia.
In order to augment his sales, David added perfumes, which he made himself, to the items he offered his customers. He believed that if books could be sold house to house, so could perfumes, which he noted women were quite interested in. David then started the California Perfume Company (CPC), with a laboratory in Suffern, New York. "Distribution of his products (was) through housewives and other women who could devote only a portion of their time to the work."
Eventually, CPC would become Avon Allied Products, Inc. (Avon), which is today a world-wide cosmetics company. David served as president, chairman of the board, and principal owner of Avon until his death on January 20, 1937 at the age of eighty-eight. For five years now, my daughter Rachel has been an executive at Avon.
Dr. Mary Walker was born in Oswego on November 26, 1832 (185 years ago today). As a young woman, she taught school in nearby Minetto, New York to earn enough money to study at what is now known as the State University of New York Upstate Medical University (where my sister studied). In 1855, Mary graduated as the sole woman in her class.
In 1861 when the Civil War started, Mary Walker volunteered to join the Union Army as a medical doctor. In this capacity, she was at the first battle of Bull Run (Virginia) in July of that year. Mary was a "field surgeon (first woman as such in the Union Army) at the Battle of Fredericksburg (Virginia - December 1862) and (near) the Battle of Chichamauga (Tennessee - September 1863)."
On April 10, 1864, Mary was captured by Confederate troops and sent to a POW camp in Richmond, Virginia, until she was released as part of a prisoner exchange on August 12 of that same year. After the war, for her courageous service to the United States of America, Dr. Mary Walker was "recommended for the Medal of Honor by Generals William Tecumseh Sherman and George Henry Thomas. On November 11, 1865, President Andrew Johnson signed a bill to award her the medal." She is the only woman in U.S. history to receive the Medal of Honor. Mary wore it until her death in Oswego on February 21, 1919 at the age of eighty-six.
Erik Cole was born in Oswego on November 6, 1978 (currently 39 years-old). He graduated from Oswego High School in 1996, having played ice hockey for the Buccaneers (a sport that was not offered in 1963 when I graduated). The following winter, Erik moved to Des Moines, Iowa to play in the United States Hockey League (for amateur players under twenty years-of-age). He then matriculated at Clarkson University (Potsdam, New York) where he played ice hockey three seasons for the Golden Knights.
In 2000, Erik signed a professional contract with the Carolina Hurricanes (Raleigh, NC) of the National Hockey League (NHL). After playing a little over one season in a minor league, he began playing for the Hurricanes. Erik played 13 seasons in the NHL, mostly with Carolina, scoring 271 goals.
The highlight of Erik's career was 2006 when, as a Hurricane, he was a member of the NHL championship team. Thus, the name Erik Cole is written on the world famous Stanley Cup. He retired from professional ice hockey this past September.
David McConnell was born in Oswego on July 15, 1858. He attended the Oswego State Normal School (the same as did my mother) with the intention of becoming a math teacher. Instead, David entered the world of business. He started out selling books house to house for the Union Publishing Company, making his home in Atlanta, Georgia.
In order to augment his sales, David added perfumes, which he made himself, to the items he offered his customers. He believed that if books could be sold house to house, so could perfumes, which he noted women were quite interested in. David then started the California Perfume Company (CPC), with a laboratory in Suffern, New York. "Distribution of his products (was) through housewives and other women who could devote only a portion of their time to the work."
Eventually, CPC would become Avon Allied Products, Inc. (Avon), which is today a world-wide cosmetics company. David served as president, chairman of the board, and principal owner of Avon until his death on January 20, 1937 at the age of eighty-eight. For five years now, my daughter Rachel has been an executive at Avon.
Dr. Mary Walker was born in Oswego on November 26, 1832 (185 years ago today). As a young woman, she taught school in nearby Minetto, New York to earn enough money to study at what is now known as the State University of New York Upstate Medical University (where my sister studied). In 1855, Mary graduated as the sole woman in her class.
In 1861 when the Civil War started, Mary Walker volunteered to join the Union Army as a medical doctor. In this capacity, she was at the first battle of Bull Run (Virginia) in July of that year. Mary was a "field surgeon (first woman as such in the Union Army) at the Battle of Fredericksburg (Virginia - December 1862) and (near) the Battle of Chichamauga (Tennessee - September 1863)."
On April 10, 1864, Mary was captured by Confederate troops and sent to a POW camp in Richmond, Virginia, until she was released as part of a prisoner exchange on August 12 of that same year. After the war, for her courageous service to the United States of America, Dr. Mary Walker was "recommended for the Medal of Honor by Generals William Tecumseh Sherman and George Henry Thomas. On November 11, 1865, President Andrew Johnson signed a bill to award her the medal." She is the only woman in U.S. history to receive the Medal of Honor. Mary wore it until her death in Oswego on February 21, 1919 at the age of eighty-six.
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 17
In the Oval Office of the White House, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt dictates a letter to Mexican President Manuel Avila Comacho.
"My dear President Comacho: Inasmuch as neutrality is the stated policy of your government in regard to the current war between the United States of America and its enemies, the Empire of Japan and the German Reich, I require immediate and satisfactory assurances that there exists no threat to the United States from the project currently funded by your government and directed by the scientist, Julius Karchevsky. If I do not receive such assurances, I will consider it my duty as President of the United States of America to consider drastic measures to protect the safety of the American people. I look forward to your earliest response. Sincerely, FDR."
In his office at Los Pinos, President Comacho dictates his response to Roosevelt's letter.
"My dear President Roosevelt: I can assure you that the government of Mexico is not funding any project that may be deemed injurious to the United States of America. Furthermore, I have no information on anyone either in the employ of my government or residing in Mexico named Julius Karchevsky. In addition, I resent your threats against my country. We want to live in peace with our neighbors. However, if and when Mexico is confronted by, as you say, "drastic measures," it cannot back away. Your country has invaded Mexico several times and the government and people of Mexico will not stand idly by if you choose to do it again. Sincerely, Manuel Avila Comacho."
Ben and Rita enjoy a romantic dinner in an upscale restaurant in Mexico City. They are jovial as they eat, drink, laugh and talk. Their smiles are genuine.
President Roosevelt meets privately with the Secretary of War, Henry Stimson.
"I am ordering you to prepare a military plan to invade Mexico within three months from today for the express purpose of capturing a scientist named Julius Karchevsky, who is currently in Mexico City, and bringing him to Washington. I sincerely hope this won't be necessary, but we must be prepared to move on this. It is not my wish to occupy Mexico or cause unnecessary destruction or loss of life, but we must make sure we don't have another sneak attack on our hands."
"We will carry out your orders, Mr. President."
"For the next three months, this is your highest priority. Understand?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"My dear President Comacho: Inasmuch as neutrality is the stated policy of your government in regard to the current war between the United States of America and its enemies, the Empire of Japan and the German Reich, I require immediate and satisfactory assurances that there exists no threat to the United States from the project currently funded by your government and directed by the scientist, Julius Karchevsky. If I do not receive such assurances, I will consider it my duty as President of the United States of America to consider drastic measures to protect the safety of the American people. I look forward to your earliest response. Sincerely, FDR."
In his office at Los Pinos, President Comacho dictates his response to Roosevelt's letter.
"My dear President Roosevelt: I can assure you that the government of Mexico is not funding any project that may be deemed injurious to the United States of America. Furthermore, I have no information on anyone either in the employ of my government or residing in Mexico named Julius Karchevsky. In addition, I resent your threats against my country. We want to live in peace with our neighbors. However, if and when Mexico is confronted by, as you say, "drastic measures," it cannot back away. Your country has invaded Mexico several times and the government and people of Mexico will not stand idly by if you choose to do it again. Sincerely, Manuel Avila Comacho."
Ben and Rita enjoy a romantic dinner in an upscale restaurant in Mexico City. They are jovial as they eat, drink, laugh and talk. Their smiles are genuine.
President Roosevelt meets privately with the Secretary of War, Henry Stimson.
"I am ordering you to prepare a military plan to invade Mexico within three months from today for the express purpose of capturing a scientist named Julius Karchevsky, who is currently in Mexico City, and bringing him to Washington. I sincerely hope this won't be necessary, but we must be prepared to move on this. It is not my wish to occupy Mexico or cause unnecessary destruction or loss of life, but we must make sure we don't have another sneak attack on our hands."
"We will carry out your orders, Mr. President."
"For the next three months, this is your highest priority. Understand?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Crème de Menthe Parfait
When I first matriculated at the University of Pennsylvania in 1963, I lived on the fifth floor of the Class of 1928 dormitory in the upper quad off 37th and Spruce Streets in Philadelphia. There were 33 freshmen males living on the floor divided equally among 11 rooms. Initially, I had roommates from Boston and Orlando. In the middle of the year, there was a grand exchange on the entire floor and I got two new roommates, Mike Parr from Baltimore and Ralph Pincus from Pittsburgh.
However, the only one from that fifth floor group I am still friends with is Scott Kahn from Springfield, Massachusetts. On a weekend night back in '63, there was a mixer on our floor at the dorm and Scott invited his friend from Springfield, Naomi Bloom, who was also a freshman at Penn. She brought her roommate at Sergeant Hall (women's dorm), Joan Ruth Freedman from Brooklyn, New York, an only child whose father was a neurosurgeon (shades of Ben Casey).
It turns out Joan and I probably met before. In the summer of 1958 or 1959, while I was at Eagle Cove, she was at a girls camp also in the Adirondacks called Greylock. There was a mixer at Greylock in which boys from Eagle Cove were invited.
Joan and I dated on and off while we were at Penn. In November of 1964, fifty-three years ago, I called her for a date. Joan declined my invitation as she was going home that weekend. I then hatched a plan. Saturday morning, I took a train to New York and then a subway to Columbia University's Baker Field to watch the Penn-Columbia football game. Penn lost 33-12.
After the game, I called Joan at her home. At first, I pretended to be someone from Penn reporting she had broken a rule when she left her dorm. Hearing worry in her voice, I told Joan it was me and what I said was a joke. I mentioned I was in New York and had been at the football game (I should have invited her to go with me). Much to my surprise, she invited me to join her and her parents for a pre-show dinner at Barbetta's restaurant on West 46th Street, near Broadway. I accepted.
Joan said she was sorry I hadn't told her I would be in New York as her family had an extra ticket that night for the musical Funny Girl at the Winter Garden Theatre. The extra ticket instead went to a friend of her father's. I almost got to see the 22 year-old superstar, Barbra Streisand, perform live on stage. However, I did have a wonderful dinner with Joan and her parents at a fancy restaurant and afterwards went to Madison Square Garden to see the great Oscar Robertson (the Big O) play basketball in person for the only time in my life. I've never seen Barbra perform live.
After graduating from Penn, Joan earned a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. In 1992, around the time of our twenty-fifth Penn class reunion, I had lunch with her at the State University of New York at Stony Brook where she was a professor of psychology. Joan reminded me of a story she used to tell her family. On one of our dates at a restaurant on Chestnut Street, I ordered a crème de menthe parfait. In response, the waiter asked to see my ID. As I was under 21, I ordered something else. Until Joan mentioned it, I had forgotten all about that dessert.
However, the only one from that fifth floor group I am still friends with is Scott Kahn from Springfield, Massachusetts. On a weekend night back in '63, there was a mixer on our floor at the dorm and Scott invited his friend from Springfield, Naomi Bloom, who was also a freshman at Penn. She brought her roommate at Sergeant Hall (women's dorm), Joan Ruth Freedman from Brooklyn, New York, an only child whose father was a neurosurgeon (shades of Ben Casey).
It turns out Joan and I probably met before. In the summer of 1958 or 1959, while I was at Eagle Cove, she was at a girls camp also in the Adirondacks called Greylock. There was a mixer at Greylock in which boys from Eagle Cove were invited.
Joan and I dated on and off while we were at Penn. In November of 1964, fifty-three years ago, I called her for a date. Joan declined my invitation as she was going home that weekend. I then hatched a plan. Saturday morning, I took a train to New York and then a subway to Columbia University's Baker Field to watch the Penn-Columbia football game. Penn lost 33-12.
After the game, I called Joan at her home. At first, I pretended to be someone from Penn reporting she had broken a rule when she left her dorm. Hearing worry in her voice, I told Joan it was me and what I said was a joke. I mentioned I was in New York and had been at the football game (I should have invited her to go with me). Much to my surprise, she invited me to join her and her parents for a pre-show dinner at Barbetta's restaurant on West 46th Street, near Broadway. I accepted.
Joan said she was sorry I hadn't told her I would be in New York as her family had an extra ticket that night for the musical Funny Girl at the Winter Garden Theatre. The extra ticket instead went to a friend of her father's. I almost got to see the 22 year-old superstar, Barbra Streisand, perform live on stage. However, I did have a wonderful dinner with Joan and her parents at a fancy restaurant and afterwards went to Madison Square Garden to see the great Oscar Robertson (the Big O) play basketball in person for the only time in my life. I've never seen Barbra perform live.
After graduating from Penn, Joan earned a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. In 1992, around the time of our twenty-fifth Penn class reunion, I had lunch with her at the State University of New York at Stony Brook where she was a professor of psychology. Joan reminded me of a story she used to tell her family. On one of our dates at a restaurant on Chestnut Street, I ordered a crème de menthe parfait. In response, the waiter asked to see my ID. As I was under 21, I ordered something else. Until Joan mentioned it, I had forgotten all about that dessert.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Edward G. Robinson
Emanuel Goldenberg was born in Bucharest, Romania in December of 1893. Because of antisemitism, his Jewish family emigrated to the United States in 1903 when he was ten years-old. Emanuel grew up on the lower east side of Manhattan and attended City College of New York with the intention of becoming a criminal lawyer. However, he developed an interest in acting and won a scholarship to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts also in New York. He then changed his name to Edward G. Robinson. The G was for Goldenberg.
After first working in the Yiddish theater, Robinson had his Broadway debut in 1915. He made his first (of over 100) film(s), a silent one, in 1923. His last was fifty years later. Robinson's performance as the gangster Rico in Little Caesar (1931) pushed him into the Hollywood movie star category. He virtually resurrected that role in the hit Key Largo (1948) directed by John Huston and which also starred Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. In this one, Robinson portrayed the gangster Rocco.
In 1944, Robinson took the part of Barton Keyes, an insurance company Claims Manager, in Billy Wilder's very successful movie Double Indemnity which also starred Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards (but won none), including Best Motion Picture (lost to Going My Way), Best Director (Wilder lost to Leo McCarey for Going My Way) and Best Actress (Stanwyck lost to Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight).
Double indemnity is an insurance term which refers to a "provision for the payment of double the face value of an (life) insurance policy when death occurs (for example) as a result of an accident." In the film, Walter Neff (MacMurray), an insurance salesman, conspires with Phyllis Dietrichson (Stanwyck), the wife of a client, to murder her husband in a way that makes it seem as if his death was an accident in order to collect double the value of the insurance policy he sold her. Neff's colleague at the insurance company, Barton Keyes, tries to solve what he suspects to be a murder, not realizing Neff is one of the murderers.
Robinson's delivery (as Keyes) of Wilder's Academy Award nominated dialogue nearly steals the movie from the other two actors. Some examples are below:
"Come now, you've never read an actuarial table in your life, have you? Why they've got ten volumes on suicide alone. Suicide by race, by color, by occupation, by sex, by seasons of the year, by time of day. Suicide, how committed: by poison, by firearms, by drowning, by leaps. Suicide by poison subdivided by types of poison, such as corrosive, irritant, systemic, gaseous, narcotic, alkaloid, protein, and so forth; suicide by leaps, subdivided by leaps from high places, under the wheels of trains, under the wheels of trucks, under the feet of horses, from steamboats. But, Mr. Norton, of all the cases on record, there's not one single case of suicide by leap from the rear end of a moving train. And you know how fast that train was going at the point where the body was found? Fifteen miles an hour. Now how can anybody jump off a slow-moving train like that with any kind of expectation that he would kill himself? No. No soap, Mr. Norton. We're sunk, and we'll have to pay through the nose, and you know it."
"There it is, Walter. It's beginning to come apart at the seams already. Murder's never perfect. Always comes apart sooner or later, when two people are involved it's usually sooner. Now we know the Dietrichson dame is in it and a somebody else. Pretty soon, we'll know who that somebody else is. He'll show. He's got to show. Sometime, somewhere, they've got to meet. Their emotions are all kicked up. Whether it's love or hate doesn't matter; they can't keep away from each other. They may think it's twice as safe because they're two of them, but it isn't twice as safe. It's ten times twice as dangerous. They've committed a murder! And it's not like taking a trolley ride together where they can get off at different stops. They're stuck with each other and they got to ride all the way to the end of the line and it's a one-way trip and the last stop is the cemetery. She put in her claim...and I'm gonna throw it right back at her. Let her sue us if she dares. I'll be ready for her and that somebody else. They'll be digging their own graves."
"This Dietrichson business. It's murder. And murders don't come any neater. As fancy a piece of homicide as anyone ever ran into. Smart, tricky, almost perfect. But...I think papa has it all figured out. Figured out and wrapped up in tissue paper with...pink ribbons on it."
__________
"Robinson was never nominated for an Academy Award, but in 1973 he was awarded an honorary oscar in recognition that he had achieved greatness as an (actor). He was notified of the honor, but died two months before the award ceremony."
After first working in the Yiddish theater, Robinson had his Broadway debut in 1915. He made his first (of over 100) film(s), a silent one, in 1923. His last was fifty years later. Robinson's performance as the gangster Rico in Little Caesar (1931) pushed him into the Hollywood movie star category. He virtually resurrected that role in the hit Key Largo (1948) directed by John Huston and which also starred Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. In this one, Robinson portrayed the gangster Rocco.
In 1944, Robinson took the part of Barton Keyes, an insurance company Claims Manager, in Billy Wilder's very successful movie Double Indemnity which also starred Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards (but won none), including Best Motion Picture (lost to Going My Way), Best Director (Wilder lost to Leo McCarey for Going My Way) and Best Actress (Stanwyck lost to Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight).
Double indemnity is an insurance term which refers to a "provision for the payment of double the face value of an (life) insurance policy when death occurs (for example) as a result of an accident." In the film, Walter Neff (MacMurray), an insurance salesman, conspires with Phyllis Dietrichson (Stanwyck), the wife of a client, to murder her husband in a way that makes it seem as if his death was an accident in order to collect double the value of the insurance policy he sold her. Neff's colleague at the insurance company, Barton Keyes, tries to solve what he suspects to be a murder, not realizing Neff is one of the murderers.
Robinson's delivery (as Keyes) of Wilder's Academy Award nominated dialogue nearly steals the movie from the other two actors. Some examples are below:
"Come now, you've never read an actuarial table in your life, have you? Why they've got ten volumes on suicide alone. Suicide by race, by color, by occupation, by sex, by seasons of the year, by time of day. Suicide, how committed: by poison, by firearms, by drowning, by leaps. Suicide by poison subdivided by types of poison, such as corrosive, irritant, systemic, gaseous, narcotic, alkaloid, protein, and so forth; suicide by leaps, subdivided by leaps from high places, under the wheels of trains, under the wheels of trucks, under the feet of horses, from steamboats. But, Mr. Norton, of all the cases on record, there's not one single case of suicide by leap from the rear end of a moving train. And you know how fast that train was going at the point where the body was found? Fifteen miles an hour. Now how can anybody jump off a slow-moving train like that with any kind of expectation that he would kill himself? No. No soap, Mr. Norton. We're sunk, and we'll have to pay through the nose, and you know it."
"There it is, Walter. It's beginning to come apart at the seams already. Murder's never perfect. Always comes apart sooner or later, when two people are involved it's usually sooner. Now we know the Dietrichson dame is in it and a somebody else. Pretty soon, we'll know who that somebody else is. He'll show. He's got to show. Sometime, somewhere, they've got to meet. Their emotions are all kicked up. Whether it's love or hate doesn't matter; they can't keep away from each other. They may think it's twice as safe because they're two of them, but it isn't twice as safe. It's ten times twice as dangerous. They've committed a murder! And it's not like taking a trolley ride together where they can get off at different stops. They're stuck with each other and they got to ride all the way to the end of the line and it's a one-way trip and the last stop is the cemetery. She put in her claim...and I'm gonna throw it right back at her. Let her sue us if she dares. I'll be ready for her and that somebody else. They'll be digging their own graves."
"This Dietrichson business. It's murder. And murders don't come any neater. As fancy a piece of homicide as anyone ever ran into. Smart, tricky, almost perfect. But...I think papa has it all figured out. Figured out and wrapped up in tissue paper with...pink ribbons on it."
__________
"Robinson was never nominated for an Academy Award, but in 1973 he was awarded an honorary oscar in recognition that he had achieved greatness as an (actor). He was notified of the honor, but died two months before the award ceremony."
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 16
President Roosevelt is in a conference at the White House with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill when the phone rings.
"Excuse me, Winston...Oh, yes, Mr. Secretary. I understand. You received confirmation about this Karchevsky matter...Yes...You need to go to Mexico City right away and confront their Foreign Secretary. Lay our cards on the table and express how intolerable this is. It has to end immediately. Come to the White House as soon as you return. Have a safe trip."
After hanging up the phone he returns to Churchill.
"We received some intelligence that Mexico is plotting to join the Axis."
"I can't believe it. This is a diversion from our focus on Hitler. We can't afford to spend time looking for the boogie man under the bed when we have an actual full-blown monster running around Europe."
"I appreciate your point, but we need assurances that our southern border is not in jeopardy. I need to be convinced that nothing sinister is going on in Mexico. Now, where were we?"
Secretary of State Hull enters a conference room at the Mexican Foreign Ministry in Mexico City. His counterpart, Ezequiel Padilla Peneloza, is waiting for him.
"Welcome to Mexico City, Secretary Hull. Let me first express our deepest sympathy over the recent loss of life as a result of the Japanese attack at Hawaii. We wish your country well in your war efforts."
"Thank you, Secretary Peneloza. As a matter of fact, I am here regarding our war efforts."
"I don't understand. We are a neutral country."
"Then I need you to explain your government's connection to a Soviet emigre named Julius Karchevsky. We have reason to believe he's doing research in Mexico that may be harmful to the United States."
"I have never heard of this man. Furthermore, my government is not engaged in anything that would be harmful to your country."
"Perhaps you'd like to make further inquiries before making such a definitive statement."
"That is not necessary. I know what is and what is not going on in my country. An emigre with such a name would not be invisible to us. Do you have anything else to discuss?"
"No."
"Then our meeting is adjourned."
Ben and Rita sit on a sofa in their backyard on a gorgeous night. The stars and the moon are out and she rests her head on his shoulder.
"It's so beautiful tonight. I feel wonderful," she said.
"I wish it could stay like this."
"It's peaceful here. I know you're worried about your country, your family, your friends, but you're doing something to help at the American Embassy."
"Maybe I could do more."
"What's most important to me is that Mexico is not involved in the war. Maybe that's not fair, but I'm selfish. I want us to live our lives with love, not war."
Ben and Maria kiss softly.
"Excuse me, Winston...Oh, yes, Mr. Secretary. I understand. You received confirmation about this Karchevsky matter...Yes...You need to go to Mexico City right away and confront their Foreign Secretary. Lay our cards on the table and express how intolerable this is. It has to end immediately. Come to the White House as soon as you return. Have a safe trip."
After hanging up the phone he returns to Churchill.
"We received some intelligence that Mexico is plotting to join the Axis."
"I can't believe it. This is a diversion from our focus on Hitler. We can't afford to spend time looking for the boogie man under the bed when we have an actual full-blown monster running around Europe."
"I appreciate your point, but we need assurances that our southern border is not in jeopardy. I need to be convinced that nothing sinister is going on in Mexico. Now, where were we?"
Secretary of State Hull enters a conference room at the Mexican Foreign Ministry in Mexico City. His counterpart, Ezequiel Padilla Peneloza, is waiting for him.
"Welcome to Mexico City, Secretary Hull. Let me first express our deepest sympathy over the recent loss of life as a result of the Japanese attack at Hawaii. We wish your country well in your war efforts."
"Thank you, Secretary Peneloza. As a matter of fact, I am here regarding our war efforts."
"I don't understand. We are a neutral country."
"Then I need you to explain your government's connection to a Soviet emigre named Julius Karchevsky. We have reason to believe he's doing research in Mexico that may be harmful to the United States."
"I have never heard of this man. Furthermore, my government is not engaged in anything that would be harmful to your country."
"Perhaps you'd like to make further inquiries before making such a definitive statement."
"That is not necessary. I know what is and what is not going on in my country. An emigre with such a name would not be invisible to us. Do you have anything else to discuss?"
"No."
"Then our meeting is adjourned."
Ben and Rita sit on a sofa in their backyard on a gorgeous night. The stars and the moon are out and she rests her head on his shoulder.
"It's so beautiful tonight. I feel wonderful," she said.
"I wish it could stay like this."
"It's peaceful here. I know you're worried about your country, your family, your friends, but you're doing something to help at the American Embassy."
"Maybe I could do more."
"What's most important to me is that Mexico is not involved in the war. Maybe that's not fair, but I'm selfish. I want us to live our lives with love, not war."
Ben and Maria kiss softly.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Cats
It is not my intention for this post to be anti-dog. I know a wonderful dog: Fender, a Standard Poodle, who lives with our friends, Kevin and Connie, in Durham, NC.
On my sixteenth birthday in 1961, my brother Joel and sister-in-law Judy gave me a puppy for a present. She was a mix of beagle and fox terrier and I named her Trixie. She was a nice dog, obedient, but stupid. Or maybe I was just too stupid to train her well. Before her first birthday she gave birth to a litter of three puppies. Trixie had sex way before I did. When I went to Penn in 1963, I had to give her away as my mother refused to care for her in my absence.
In 1969, my ex-wife, Bonita, and I adopted a beagle whom we named Zootie. We kept her for ten years until she outgrew her welcome. Zootie had her good points, but she had plenty of bad ones. She growled at us when we disciplined her and she was obsessed with food, once nipping my daughter, Rachel, above her eye when she was nervously eyeballing a carrot being sliced nearby.
Some years after Zootie, my sister-in-law, Noreen, asked us to take care of her cat, Lucy, whom she had to give up because of a problem with her landlord in Washington, D.C. I was hesitant about bringing a cat into our house even though I had no experience with any. Why? Perhaps because of Walt Disney.
In the 1950s, my formative years, I saw three feature length Walt Disney produced cartoons which featured cats as negative characters. The first was Cinderella (1950), the story of an orphan girl named Cinderella who works as a servant in the house of her cruel step-mother, Lady Tremaine, whose cat, Lucifer, loves making Cinderella's life miserable.
Next was Alice in Wonderland (1951), the story of a girl named Alice who visits a strange land where she meets a variety of weird characters, including the Chesire Cat who displays the mischievous ability to appear and disappear at will. To Alice, the Chesire Cat is a very unreliable character.
Finally, there was The Lady and The Tramp (1955), a love story between a cocker spaniel named Lady and a mixed breed dog named Tramp. There are also two twin Siamese cats, Si and Am, who are very mean to Lady.
I believe I was influenced by this anti-cat prejudice. How many other Baby Boomers were affected as well? Many times, I have met people who, without any cat experience, will tell me they hate cats. It's irrational.
So, because of my desire to help out Noreen, I agreed to give Lucy a one month trial. She stayed with us for five years until her death. Of the three pets I had in my life, Lucy was clearly the best. She was the most intelligent, the friendliest, and the cleanest.
Lucy was so independent that we could leave her at home for a couple of days without any trouble whereas my dogs had to be boarded. We would leave a bowl of food which she would eat a little at a time. And then, so amazingly, she could jump from the kitchen floor to the counter top to drink water from the dripping faucet.
I remember Lucy's custom of sitting by the kitchen door waiting to either enter or leave the house. Unfortunately, one day she left and never returned. Our veterinarian had diagnosed Lucy with a cancerous growth on her throat. That last time, I believe, she was looking for a place to die. Lucy was unforgettable. Cats can be great.
On my sixteenth birthday in 1961, my brother Joel and sister-in-law Judy gave me a puppy for a present. She was a mix of beagle and fox terrier and I named her Trixie. She was a nice dog, obedient, but stupid. Or maybe I was just too stupid to train her well. Before her first birthday she gave birth to a litter of three puppies. Trixie had sex way before I did. When I went to Penn in 1963, I had to give her away as my mother refused to care for her in my absence.
In 1969, my ex-wife, Bonita, and I adopted a beagle whom we named Zootie. We kept her for ten years until she outgrew her welcome. Zootie had her good points, but she had plenty of bad ones. She growled at us when we disciplined her and she was obsessed with food, once nipping my daughter, Rachel, above her eye when she was nervously eyeballing a carrot being sliced nearby.
Some years after Zootie, my sister-in-law, Noreen, asked us to take care of her cat, Lucy, whom she had to give up because of a problem with her landlord in Washington, D.C. I was hesitant about bringing a cat into our house even though I had no experience with any. Why? Perhaps because of Walt Disney.
In the 1950s, my formative years, I saw three feature length Walt Disney produced cartoons which featured cats as negative characters. The first was Cinderella (1950), the story of an orphan girl named Cinderella who works as a servant in the house of her cruel step-mother, Lady Tremaine, whose cat, Lucifer, loves making Cinderella's life miserable.
Next was Alice in Wonderland (1951), the story of a girl named Alice who visits a strange land where she meets a variety of weird characters, including the Chesire Cat who displays the mischievous ability to appear and disappear at will. To Alice, the Chesire Cat is a very unreliable character.
Finally, there was The Lady and The Tramp (1955), a love story between a cocker spaniel named Lady and a mixed breed dog named Tramp. There are also two twin Siamese cats, Si and Am, who are very mean to Lady.
I believe I was influenced by this anti-cat prejudice. How many other Baby Boomers were affected as well? Many times, I have met people who, without any cat experience, will tell me they hate cats. It's irrational.
So, because of my desire to help out Noreen, I agreed to give Lucy a one month trial. She stayed with us for five years until her death. Of the three pets I had in my life, Lucy was clearly the best. She was the most intelligent, the friendliest, and the cleanest.
Lucy was so independent that we could leave her at home for a couple of days without any trouble whereas my dogs had to be boarded. We would leave a bowl of food which she would eat a little at a time. And then, so amazingly, she could jump from the kitchen floor to the counter top to drink water from the dripping faucet.
I remember Lucy's custom of sitting by the kitchen door waiting to either enter or leave the house. Unfortunately, one day she left and never returned. Our veterinarian had diagnosed Lucy with a cancerous growth on her throat. That last time, I believe, she was looking for a place to die. Lucy was unforgettable. Cats can be great.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
World Series
In October of 1968, the American League champions, the Detroit Tigers, were the home team for games 3, 4 and 5 of the World Series against the National League champions, the St. Louis Cardinals. My brother Ted, who worked for a Detroit radio station at the time, acted as host for the station's clients at their seats in Tiger Stadium during the above games. Thus, Ted, who was not a baseball fan, got to see three World Series games before I saw any. His main memory was that Vice President Hubert Humphrey, the Democratic Candidate for President, was at one of the games.
On Tuesday, October 14, 1969, forty-eight years ago yesterday, I was at my desk in the Tax Department of Joseph E. Seagram & Sons, Inc. at 375 Park Avenue in Manhattan. Besides my work, I was thinking about that afternoon's third game of the World Series featuring the National League champions, the New York Mets, who would be hosting the American League champions, the Baltimore Orioles, at Shea Stadium in Queens (the first ever World Series game played there). The two teams split the first two games of the 1969 World Series in Baltimore the previous weekend.
Late in the morning, our Tax Director, Chris Bakos, leisurely walked into the Tax Department office holding two tickets to that afternoon's World Series game. He asked who among the ten of us wanted to go. What a treat! To go to a World Series game for free instead of working. I assumed everybody would want to go. I was shocked when only three of us did. But, there were only two tickets. We drew straws and I was one of the lucky two.
The other winner, a man named Roy, offered to drive me to the game in his car. However, I thought traffic would be horrible so I opted for the subway. I was right. I got to my seat in the upper deck along the right field line well before the game started. Roy arrived by the third inning.
The Mets starting pitcher Gary Gentry shut out the Orioles until he was relieved in the seventh inning by future Hall of Famer, Nolan Ryan, who was making his only World Series appearance in a 27-year career. Baltimore started another future Hall of Fame pitcher, Jim Palmer.
Without a doubt, the hero of the day was Mets center fielder, Tommie Agee. The first batter up for the Mets in the bottom of the first inning, he hit a home run off Palmer for the only run the Mets would need.
In the top of the fourth inning, with runners at first and third base and two outs, Agee went into left center field to make a backhanded grab of a line drive off the bat of Elrod Hendricks to end the inning.
When Gentry loaded the bases with one out in the seventh inning, Met Manager Gil Hodges brought in Ryan. One out later, Paul Blair hit a fly ball to right center field that Agee made a diving catch of to end the threat. Ryan pitched the final two innings to preserve a 5-0 Met victory.
Two days later, the Mets won game 5 and the 1969 World Series. That day the ten of us were listening to the game on a radio in the Tax Department office (along with visitors from the IRS). Those were the days of the Miracle Mets (and when World Series games were played in the afternoon). A mere 7 years earlier, the Mets, an expansion team, lost 120 games, the most since 1899 and not duplicated to this day.
On Tuesday, October 14, 1969, forty-eight years ago yesterday, I was at my desk in the Tax Department of Joseph E. Seagram & Sons, Inc. at 375 Park Avenue in Manhattan. Besides my work, I was thinking about that afternoon's third game of the World Series featuring the National League champions, the New York Mets, who would be hosting the American League champions, the Baltimore Orioles, at Shea Stadium in Queens (the first ever World Series game played there). The two teams split the first two games of the 1969 World Series in Baltimore the previous weekend.
Late in the morning, our Tax Director, Chris Bakos, leisurely walked into the Tax Department office holding two tickets to that afternoon's World Series game. He asked who among the ten of us wanted to go. What a treat! To go to a World Series game for free instead of working. I assumed everybody would want to go. I was shocked when only three of us did. But, there were only two tickets. We drew straws and I was one of the lucky two.
The other winner, a man named Roy, offered to drive me to the game in his car. However, I thought traffic would be horrible so I opted for the subway. I was right. I got to my seat in the upper deck along the right field line well before the game started. Roy arrived by the third inning.
The Mets starting pitcher Gary Gentry shut out the Orioles until he was relieved in the seventh inning by future Hall of Famer, Nolan Ryan, who was making his only World Series appearance in a 27-year career. Baltimore started another future Hall of Fame pitcher, Jim Palmer.
Without a doubt, the hero of the day was Mets center fielder, Tommie Agee. The first batter up for the Mets in the bottom of the first inning, he hit a home run off Palmer for the only run the Mets would need.
In the top of the fourth inning, with runners at first and third base and two outs, Agee went into left center field to make a backhanded grab of a line drive off the bat of Elrod Hendricks to end the inning.
When Gentry loaded the bases with one out in the seventh inning, Met Manager Gil Hodges brought in Ryan. One out later, Paul Blair hit a fly ball to right center field that Agee made a diving catch of to end the threat. Ryan pitched the final two innings to preserve a 5-0 Met victory.
Two days later, the Mets won game 5 and the 1969 World Series. That day the ten of us were listening to the game on a radio in the Tax Department office (along with visitors from the IRS). Those were the days of the Miracle Mets (and when World Series games were played in the afternoon). A mere 7 years earlier, the Mets, an expansion team, lost 120 games, the most since 1899 and not duplicated to this day.
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Jersey Injury
One evening shortly after 9/11 I was home with my sixteen year-old son, Bret, preparing dinner for the two of us. I am not sure what else I was cooking, but I know the menu included Uncle Ben's white rice. When the rice was done, I put it in a large bowl and brought it to the dining room table. I then returned to the kitchen to do the finishing touches to the rest of our dinner.
Bret was hungry and asked me how much rice he should put on his plate. I responded with, "As much as you want."
When I brought the rest of the food to the table, I saw he had put all the rice on his plate. I mean all of it. In retrospect, I know he was being playful. However, at that moment, I was not in a playful mood. I responded badly. I paid a price for my bad behavior.
I walked towards Bret who was standing near the table. I grabbed his t-shirt with my right hand. He backed away, forcing my hand to release his shirt. Sounds simple, right? That simple act broke the little finger of my right hand.
I don't remember any terrific pain, but I immediately realized something was wrong. I looked at my little finger and in the top crease where it normally bends, there was something in its place. I could no longer bend it. Right away I got in my car and drove to a nearby walk-in clinic. They told me I needed to go to a hospital.
Early the next day, I drove to the North Shore Hospital in Nassau County. The doctors in the Emergency Room referred me to a hand specialist whose office was nearby. I went there as fast as I could. When I walked in, his office was mobbed, peopled with a variety of finger and hand injuries. I waited patiently until it was my turn. The doctor took four patients at a time placing them in separate examining rooms where he rotated from one to another.
I wish I could remember my doctor's name, but he appeared to be of either Middle Eastern or South Asian ancestry. Besides that, he was a great surgeon and a great human being. He calmly explained to me what happened to my finger. He told me he would try to surgically repair the finger as best he could. However, he promised me that, at the very least, I would not have pain. I don't.
A few days later, as my doctor instructed, I arrived at another hospital on Long Island and waited for his call from the Emergency Room. Since he wanted to repair my finger ASAP, he said he would fit me into the surgical schedule when he could. I waited almost 12 hours in the ER. It was fascinating being there that long. I saw victims of heart attacks and auto accidents arriving, one after the other.
Finally, it was my turn. I remember being wheeled into surgery and then waking up afterwards with my finger heavily bandaged. When my finger recovered sufficiently my doctor prescribed occupational therapy.
I went to a clinic on the east side of Manhattan. I remember walking there on a busy street full of pedestrians with my left hand and arm in front of my recovering finger trying to protect it from further harm. My therapist was a short, fat lady who turned out to be great.
On my first visit, I asked her to be very gentle with my finger. She said she would. Then, she started manipulating it. The finger was so sensitive that I almost jumped out of my chair and banged the back of my head against the wall behind me. But, slowly over time, with her help, my finger came back to where it was before the accident.
And what was my accident? My therapist called it a "jersey injury." I responded like, "New Jersey?" No, she said, as in a "football jersey." Players grab each other's jerseys and when they break away from each other sometimes fingers are broken. You can see players tape their fingers before the game to protect them. Check it out next time you watch on TV or in person.
My therapist also had a sense of humor. On Halloween, she dressed up like a witch with a black costume and green makeup.
I messed up that night when I overreacted and got my finger broken. However, there was a silver lining. I got to meet two wonderful human beings.
Bret was hungry and asked me how much rice he should put on his plate. I responded with, "As much as you want."
When I brought the rest of the food to the table, I saw he had put all the rice on his plate. I mean all of it. In retrospect, I know he was being playful. However, at that moment, I was not in a playful mood. I responded badly. I paid a price for my bad behavior.
I walked towards Bret who was standing near the table. I grabbed his t-shirt with my right hand. He backed away, forcing my hand to release his shirt. Sounds simple, right? That simple act broke the little finger of my right hand.
I don't remember any terrific pain, but I immediately realized something was wrong. I looked at my little finger and in the top crease where it normally bends, there was something in its place. I could no longer bend it. Right away I got in my car and drove to a nearby walk-in clinic. They told me I needed to go to a hospital.
Early the next day, I drove to the North Shore Hospital in Nassau County. The doctors in the Emergency Room referred me to a hand specialist whose office was nearby. I went there as fast as I could. When I walked in, his office was mobbed, peopled with a variety of finger and hand injuries. I waited patiently until it was my turn. The doctor took four patients at a time placing them in separate examining rooms where he rotated from one to another.
I wish I could remember my doctor's name, but he appeared to be of either Middle Eastern or South Asian ancestry. Besides that, he was a great surgeon and a great human being. He calmly explained to me what happened to my finger. He told me he would try to surgically repair the finger as best he could. However, he promised me that, at the very least, I would not have pain. I don't.
A few days later, as my doctor instructed, I arrived at another hospital on Long Island and waited for his call from the Emergency Room. Since he wanted to repair my finger ASAP, he said he would fit me into the surgical schedule when he could. I waited almost 12 hours in the ER. It was fascinating being there that long. I saw victims of heart attacks and auto accidents arriving, one after the other.
Finally, it was my turn. I remember being wheeled into surgery and then waking up afterwards with my finger heavily bandaged. When my finger recovered sufficiently my doctor prescribed occupational therapy.
I went to a clinic on the east side of Manhattan. I remember walking there on a busy street full of pedestrians with my left hand and arm in front of my recovering finger trying to protect it from further harm. My therapist was a short, fat lady who turned out to be great.
On my first visit, I asked her to be very gentle with my finger. She said she would. Then, she started manipulating it. The finger was so sensitive that I almost jumped out of my chair and banged the back of my head against the wall behind me. But, slowly over time, with her help, my finger came back to where it was before the accident.
And what was my accident? My therapist called it a "jersey injury." I responded like, "New Jersey?" No, she said, as in a "football jersey." Players grab each other's jerseys and when they break away from each other sometimes fingers are broken. You can see players tape their fingers before the game to protect them. Check it out next time you watch on TV or in person.
My therapist also had a sense of humor. On Halloween, she dressed up like a witch with a black costume and green makeup.
I messed up that night when I overreacted and got my finger broken. However, there was a silver lining. I got to meet two wonderful human beings.
Sunday, October 1, 2017
John Garfield
John Garfield, the actor, was born Jacob Julius Garfinkle on Manhattan's lower east side on March 4, 1913. His parents were Jewish immigrants from Russia. As a child at P.S. 45, Garfield was first introduced to acting. Later, he took "lessons at a drama school" and began to appear in theatrical productions in New York. He made his Broadway debut in 1932.
In 1938, Garfield made his film debut in the Warner Bros. picture, Four Daughters, directed by Michael Curtiz, for which he received an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor (lost to Walter Brennan in Kentucky). In 1939, he was in Juarez with Paul Muni. In 1945, Garfield starred in Pride of the Marines. In 1946, he was cast opposite Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice. In 1947, Garfield was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor for his performance in Body and Soul (lost to Ronald Coleman in A Double Life).
Also in 1947, Garfield appeared in a supporting role in the groundbreaking film, Gentleman's Agreement, which won three Academy Awards including Best Picture. In the story, Philip Green (Gregory Peck, who was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but also lost to Ronald Coleman in A Double Life), a journalist, moves to New York City to write for a magazine. His publisher asks him to do an article about antisemitism. In order to get a different perspective, Green, a gentile, adopts a Jewish identity, Philip Greenberg.
Green's Jewish friend, Dave Goldman (Garfield), is staying with Green in his Manhattan apartment while Goldman looks for an apartment for himself. One night, the two are in a restaurant for dinner. Goldman, an officer in the U.S. Army, is in uniform. A drunken customer walks by their table and bumps into Goldman.
Noting Goldman's uniform, the drunk says, "I don't like officers."
Goldman responds in jest, "Neither do I."
"What's your name, Bud?" asks the drunk.
"Dave, Dave Goldman. What's yours?"
"I especially don't like them if they're yids."
Furious, Goldman jumps up from his seat and grabs the man by his lapels. However, he is cool enough not to hit the physically impotent drunk. Goldman releases him and sits back down.
In a documentary about Garfield, another Jewish actor, Richard Dreyfuss (1978 Academy Award winner for Best Actor in The Goodbye Girl), referred to this scene as "the scene." As a fellow Jew, I think I understand what he meant.
Tragically, John Garfield died of a heart attack on May 21, 1952 at the age of only 39. That he had scarlet fever as a child contributed to his untimely death. A great actor was taken from us far too soon.
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 15
In the week after Pearl Harbor, Ben's nephew, Harry Johnson, enlists in the United States Army near his home in Syracuse.
A week later, Secretary of State Cordell Hull arrives at the White House for a meeting with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Hull opens the meeting with "The American people suffered a terrible shock on December seventh, Mr. President, and they couldn't tolerate another. Therefore, my staff and I put together a report as to where another such sneak attack could come from in order to crush it before it happens."
"I'm not sure I follow you. We know who our enemies are."
"Yes, of course, but our enemies could have allies lying in wait. I want you to think about...Mexico."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Let's look at the facts, Mr. President. 1836: Americans living in northern Mexico revolt and form the independent Republic of Texas. 1845: Texas joins the Union, we invade Mexico and seize New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, and Utah. 1914: We invade Mexico and occupy the City of Vera Cruz for six months. 1916: Again, we invade Mexico, this time looking for Pancho Villa. 1917: Germany offers Mexico its assistance in retrieving its lost territories if it enters the Great War on Germany's side. Recently, former President Cardenas maintained cordial relations with Nazi Germany. And now Mexico has a growing trade relationship with Germany. Isn't this enough for us to beware of Mexico?"
"I'm not convinced. Tell me something about Mexico I don't know."
Hull takes some papers out of his briefcase and places them in front of the president.
"This report was passed to me by the Secretary of War, which he received from reliable sources in the Department of the Army. There's a scientist in Mexico named Julius Karchevsky who's doing some hush-hush research on a new type of bomb. He's a Soviet emigre who went there with Trotsky in '37 and is now working for the Mexican government. Years before he was a colleague of Einstein. Now why would the Mexicans be doing this? They have no enemies. No need to develop super bombs. There can be only one explanation: they're in league with the Japanese and/or the Germans. We don't need a sneak attack from across the Rio Grande, Mr. President."
"This is preposterous. Unbelievable. However, I will study your report, but I want independent confirmation. I want new people to check out this Karchevsky. Make it a high priority. If it's true, we need to act fast."
"Very well, Mr. President."
After Hull leaves his office, Roosevelt opens his desk drawer and takes out a letter in an envelope with the return address showing the name Albert Einstein. He starts to re-read the letter dated August 2, 1939.
Meanwhile, Ben and Maria are lying in their bed in Mexico City.
"My country's at war," says Ben, "and I'm not there. Dave told me they need able-bodied men at his factory. Maybe I should go there for a while and help out."
"Don't say that, Ben. I couldn't bear for you to leave me. I'd be afraid something would happen and you wouldn't come back."
"Don't be silly. Nothing would happen to me."
"Factories are targets. You could be killed."
"We're too far away for the Japs and Krauts to bomb us. I'd be okay."
"Anything could happen in a war, like sabotage. In Mexico, we're safe. Maybe you could do something here, perhaps at the American Embassy. Please don't go, my love. Please don't go."
She puts her arms around him and smothers him with kisses.
A week later, Secretary of State Cordell Hull arrives at the White House for a meeting with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Hull opens the meeting with "The American people suffered a terrible shock on December seventh, Mr. President, and they couldn't tolerate another. Therefore, my staff and I put together a report as to where another such sneak attack could come from in order to crush it before it happens."
"I'm not sure I follow you. We know who our enemies are."
"Yes, of course, but our enemies could have allies lying in wait. I want you to think about...Mexico."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Let's look at the facts, Mr. President. 1836: Americans living in northern Mexico revolt and form the independent Republic of Texas. 1845: Texas joins the Union, we invade Mexico and seize New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, and Utah. 1914: We invade Mexico and occupy the City of Vera Cruz for six months. 1916: Again, we invade Mexico, this time looking for Pancho Villa. 1917: Germany offers Mexico its assistance in retrieving its lost territories if it enters the Great War on Germany's side. Recently, former President Cardenas maintained cordial relations with Nazi Germany. And now Mexico has a growing trade relationship with Germany. Isn't this enough for us to beware of Mexico?"
"I'm not convinced. Tell me something about Mexico I don't know."
Hull takes some papers out of his briefcase and places them in front of the president.
"This report was passed to me by the Secretary of War, which he received from reliable sources in the Department of the Army. There's a scientist in Mexico named Julius Karchevsky who's doing some hush-hush research on a new type of bomb. He's a Soviet emigre who went there with Trotsky in '37 and is now working for the Mexican government. Years before he was a colleague of Einstein. Now why would the Mexicans be doing this? They have no enemies. No need to develop super bombs. There can be only one explanation: they're in league with the Japanese and/or the Germans. We don't need a sneak attack from across the Rio Grande, Mr. President."
"This is preposterous. Unbelievable. However, I will study your report, but I want independent confirmation. I want new people to check out this Karchevsky. Make it a high priority. If it's true, we need to act fast."
"Very well, Mr. President."
After Hull leaves his office, Roosevelt opens his desk drawer and takes out a letter in an envelope with the return address showing the name Albert Einstein. He starts to re-read the letter dated August 2, 1939.
Meanwhile, Ben and Maria are lying in their bed in Mexico City.
"My country's at war," says Ben, "and I'm not there. Dave told me they need able-bodied men at his factory. Maybe I should go there for a while and help out."
"Don't say that, Ben. I couldn't bear for you to leave me. I'd be afraid something would happen and you wouldn't come back."
"Don't be silly. Nothing would happen to me."
"Factories are targets. You could be killed."
"We're too far away for the Japs and Krauts to bomb us. I'd be okay."
"Anything could happen in a war, like sabotage. In Mexico, we're safe. Maybe you could do something here, perhaps at the American Embassy. Please don't go, my love. Please don't go."
She puts her arms around him and smothers him with kisses.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Willie Pep
A form of entertainment that was able to fill numerous time slots in the new medium of television in the 1950s was boxing. During that era, it was one of the three most popular spectator sports, along with Major League Baseball and college football. Better than the other two, boxing is shorter in duration (a ten round bout lasts under an hour), has frequent breaks for commercials (every three minutes), and matches can be scheduled very quickly to accommodate public demand.
On Friday nights, the Gillette (maker of shaving products) Cavalcade of Sports offered a weekly boxing show (Friday Night Fights) which my mother allowed me to stay up (past my 9:00 PM bedtime) and watch (no school the next day). I remember the first time, February 26, 1954 (I was eight years-old), when the former Featherweight (limit of 126 lbs. or 57 kg.) champion, Willie Pep, fought the up and coming young boxer Lulu Perez at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Little did I know this was not to be an ordinary fight.
Guglielmo Papaleo (Willie Pep) was born in Middletown, Connecticut on September 19, 1922 (31 years-old the night of the fight). He had been boxing professionally for fourteen years. Pep's record was 183 wins, 5 losses, and 1 draw. In 1942, he first became champion when he won a 15 round decision over the defending champion, Chalky Wright. However, Pep lost his title in 1948 when he was knocked out by Sandy Saddler. He beat Saddler in 1949 to regain his championship. But, in 1950, Pep again lost the championship to Saddler as a result of a shoulder injury during the fight (which he was winning). In 1951, the two fought for the last time and Pep suffered a technical knockout as a result of a badly cut right eye (even though he was again winning the fight).
Lulu Perez was born in New York City on April 25, 1933. He started boxing professionally in 1951. By the night of the fight (20 years-old), his record was 28 wins and 2 losses. Obviously, Pep was the more experienced fighter, which is good. However, Perez had youth on his side. Pep was the favorite and I usually sided with favorites because favorites usually win.
Pep wore black trunks, Perez wore white. Nothing much happened in round 1. However, I was enjoying the show. Then, about 20 seconds into round 2, Perez shockingly floored Pep with a right cross. He got up and seemed to have weathered the storm for almost a full minute when Perez knocked Pep down again, again with a right hand punch. Another twenty seconds, another knockdown from the right hand of Perez. Under New York State rules, three knockdowns in one round constitutes a technical knockout. The fight was over in less than five minutes of boxing. Time to go to bed. I had hoped for more.
It turns out this was the highlight of Perez's career. In the next four years, he had 10 wins, 13 losses, and 2 draws before retiring. Pep went on to fight into his 40s, winning another 46 fights, while losing only 5 more times. He never fought for the championship again and there was no rematch with Perez.
Unbeknownst to me, there were suspicions about the validity of the Pep-Perez fight. According to the New York Daily News, "(Bert) Sugar (a noted boxing journalist) said Pep's behavior in the bout raised suspicion. Pep was listless. He was hit often. It just smelled. The fight was taken off the board at the last minute. There were no bets allowed on the fight."
Years later, Pep sued Newsweek Magazine (553 F. Supp. 1000, S.D.N.Y. 1983) for $75 Million for libel for alleging he had taken a dive in his fight against Perez. "The jury deliberated for only 15 minutes and found in favor of Newsweek."
A video of the second round of the Pep-Perez fight is available on the Internet. After watching it again, it seems to me as if Pep, known by some as the greatest defensive boxer of all time, was too easy a target for the right hand of Perez, who was no Sandy Saddler. What do you think?
On Friday nights, the Gillette (maker of shaving products) Cavalcade of Sports offered a weekly boxing show (Friday Night Fights) which my mother allowed me to stay up (past my 9:00 PM bedtime) and watch (no school the next day). I remember the first time, February 26, 1954 (I was eight years-old), when the former Featherweight (limit of 126 lbs. or 57 kg.) champion, Willie Pep, fought the up and coming young boxer Lulu Perez at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Little did I know this was not to be an ordinary fight.
Guglielmo Papaleo (Willie Pep) was born in Middletown, Connecticut on September 19, 1922 (31 years-old the night of the fight). He had been boxing professionally for fourteen years. Pep's record was 183 wins, 5 losses, and 1 draw. In 1942, he first became champion when he won a 15 round decision over the defending champion, Chalky Wright. However, Pep lost his title in 1948 when he was knocked out by Sandy Saddler. He beat Saddler in 1949 to regain his championship. But, in 1950, Pep again lost the championship to Saddler as a result of a shoulder injury during the fight (which he was winning). In 1951, the two fought for the last time and Pep suffered a technical knockout as a result of a badly cut right eye (even though he was again winning the fight).
Lulu Perez was born in New York City on April 25, 1933. He started boxing professionally in 1951. By the night of the fight (20 years-old), his record was 28 wins and 2 losses. Obviously, Pep was the more experienced fighter, which is good. However, Perez had youth on his side. Pep was the favorite and I usually sided with favorites because favorites usually win.
Pep wore black trunks, Perez wore white. Nothing much happened in round 1. However, I was enjoying the show. Then, about 20 seconds into round 2, Perez shockingly floored Pep with a right cross. He got up and seemed to have weathered the storm for almost a full minute when Perez knocked Pep down again, again with a right hand punch. Another twenty seconds, another knockdown from the right hand of Perez. Under New York State rules, three knockdowns in one round constitutes a technical knockout. The fight was over in less than five minutes of boxing. Time to go to bed. I had hoped for more.
It turns out this was the highlight of Perez's career. In the next four years, he had 10 wins, 13 losses, and 2 draws before retiring. Pep went on to fight into his 40s, winning another 46 fights, while losing only 5 more times. He never fought for the championship again and there was no rematch with Perez.
Unbeknownst to me, there were suspicions about the validity of the Pep-Perez fight. According to the New York Daily News, "(Bert) Sugar (a noted boxing journalist) said Pep's behavior in the bout raised suspicion. Pep was listless. He was hit often. It just smelled. The fight was taken off the board at the last minute. There were no bets allowed on the fight."
Years later, Pep sued Newsweek Magazine (553 F. Supp. 1000, S.D.N.Y. 1983) for $75 Million for libel for alleging he had taken a dive in his fight against Perez. "The jury deliberated for only 15 minutes and found in favor of Newsweek."
A video of the second round of the Pep-Perez fight is available on the Internet. After watching it again, it seems to me as if Pep, known by some as the greatest defensive boxer of all time, was too easy a target for the right hand of Perez, who was no Sandy Saddler. What do you think?
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Working Girl
Similar to Breakfast at Tiffany's (see blog post), the opening sequence of the 1988 film, Working Girl, features an Academy Award winning song, Let The River Run, written and sung by Carly Simon. After the camera shows you all sides of the Statue of Liberty from an aerial view of the New York harbor, it pans down to a Staten Island Ferry carrying passengers from that borough to the southern tip of Manhattan.
Working Girl was directed by Mike Nichols and starred Melanie Griffith (whose mother, Tippi Hedron portrayed the character Melanie Daniels in Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 film, The Birds), Harrison Ford, Sigourney Weaver, Joan Cusack, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, and Olympia Dukakis. Besides the above Academy Award, it received five other nominations: Best Picture (lost to Rain Man), Best Director (Nichols lost to Barry Levinson, Rain Man), Best Actress (Griffith lost to Jodie Foster in The Accused), and Best Supporting Actress (both Weaver and Cusack lost to Geena Davis in The Accidental Tourist).
In the above ferry is Tess McGill (Griffith), a secretary from an Irish working class background who is employed by a large investment company in the World Trade Center. She has a "fire in her belly" to rise to the executive level in her career, but is held back by the lack of a proper formal education. When her boss (Weaver) suffers a skiing accident and will be out of the office for an extended period of time, Tess takes advantage of the situation by attempting, with the help of Jack Trainer (Ford), an executive at another firm and her boss's boyfriend, to set up a merger between two companies that will catapult her career. The merger is a success and McGill and Trainer fall in love.
There is some very good dialogue in the film, such as:
Tess: I have a head for business and a bod for sin. Is there anything wrong with that?
Jack: Uh, no, no.
_____
Mick (Tess's former boyfriend): Will you marry me?
Tess: Maybe.
Mick: You call that an answer?
Tess: You want another answer, ask another girl.
_____
Cynthia (Tess's friend): Whaddya need speech class for? Ya talk fine.
_____
Tess: I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life working my ass off and getting nowhere just because I followed rules that I had nothing to do with setting up.
_____
Since 9/11, I have had mixed emotions watching Working Girl, especially that opening sequence when you can see the ferry approaching the Twin Towers in lower Manhattan, the way they were back in 1988. Many of the people represented in the film were killed when the Twin Towers were attacked and went down, including the spouse of a colleague of mine at Seagram's.
On Friday, September 7, 2001, the 100th birthday of my father (who died twenty years earlier), my son, Bret, and I were at the U.S. Tennis Open in Flushing, Queens, New York, watching Venus (21) and Serena Williams (19) win their respective semi-final singles matches.
Four days later, I was at my desk at the Anti-Defamation League office on the east side of Manhattan near the United Nations when a colleague told me that an airplane had hit one of the Twin Towers. My immediate reaction was that it was an accident. Such a thing happened to the Empire State Building during WWII. However, when a second airplane hit the second tower, I knew it was no accident. My city and my country were under attack.
What I remember most about that day was how I got home, a mere 14 miles or 22.6 kilometers. Normally I took public transportation, a subway and a bus. However, because of the attack, all such transportation was shut down. I was 56 years-old and in good aerobic condition as a former runner who had continued exercising. So, I started walking. There was no alternative.
I, along with thousands of others, headed uptown to the foot of the Queensboro (or 59th Street) Bridge. The eastbound side of the bridge was closed off to vehicular traffic allowing it to be used only by pedestrians returning to the Borough of Queens. The first half of the bridge is uphill and the second half downhill. At about the midpoint of the bridge I looked south and saw the eerie black cloud of smoke from what was left of the Twin Towers floating across the East River toward Brooklyn. That made the news reports of the attack more real.
Once over the bridge, I walked and walked and walked along Northern Boulevard with hundreds of others for as long as I could, at least two hours. Some of my fellow travelers shouted that our country was at war. Then, I called my ex-wife, Bonita, to please come and pick me up. It normally should have taken her no more than 30 minutes to get where I was. However, because of the cancelled public transportation, it took her two hours. It was a very long commute that day, one all New Yorkers will never forget.
As an American who remembers 9/11, I took special satisfaction when, on May 2, 2011, in Abottabad, Pakistan, Osama bin Laden, the man who boasted of being responsible for the attack on the Twin Towers, was killed by United States Special Forces. As the great American boxer, Joe Louis, once said, "You can run, but you can't hide."
Working Girl was directed by Mike Nichols and starred Melanie Griffith (whose mother, Tippi Hedron portrayed the character Melanie Daniels in Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 film, The Birds), Harrison Ford, Sigourney Weaver, Joan Cusack, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, and Olympia Dukakis. Besides the above Academy Award, it received five other nominations: Best Picture (lost to Rain Man), Best Director (Nichols lost to Barry Levinson, Rain Man), Best Actress (Griffith lost to Jodie Foster in The Accused), and Best Supporting Actress (both Weaver and Cusack lost to Geena Davis in The Accidental Tourist).
In the above ferry is Tess McGill (Griffith), a secretary from an Irish working class background who is employed by a large investment company in the World Trade Center. She has a "fire in her belly" to rise to the executive level in her career, but is held back by the lack of a proper formal education. When her boss (Weaver) suffers a skiing accident and will be out of the office for an extended period of time, Tess takes advantage of the situation by attempting, with the help of Jack Trainer (Ford), an executive at another firm and her boss's boyfriend, to set up a merger between two companies that will catapult her career. The merger is a success and McGill and Trainer fall in love.
There is some very good dialogue in the film, such as:
Tess: I have a head for business and a bod for sin. Is there anything wrong with that?
Jack: Uh, no, no.
_____
Mick (Tess's former boyfriend): Will you marry me?
Tess: Maybe.
Mick: You call that an answer?
Tess: You want another answer, ask another girl.
_____
Cynthia (Tess's friend): Whaddya need speech class for? Ya talk fine.
_____
Tess: I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life working my ass off and getting nowhere just because I followed rules that I had nothing to do with setting up.
_____
Since 9/11, I have had mixed emotions watching Working Girl, especially that opening sequence when you can see the ferry approaching the Twin Towers in lower Manhattan, the way they were back in 1988. Many of the people represented in the film were killed when the Twin Towers were attacked and went down, including the spouse of a colleague of mine at Seagram's.
On Friday, September 7, 2001, the 100th birthday of my father (who died twenty years earlier), my son, Bret, and I were at the U.S. Tennis Open in Flushing, Queens, New York, watching Venus (21) and Serena Williams (19) win their respective semi-final singles matches.
Four days later, I was at my desk at the Anti-Defamation League office on the east side of Manhattan near the United Nations when a colleague told me that an airplane had hit one of the Twin Towers. My immediate reaction was that it was an accident. Such a thing happened to the Empire State Building during WWII. However, when a second airplane hit the second tower, I knew it was no accident. My city and my country were under attack.
What I remember most about that day was how I got home, a mere 14 miles or 22.6 kilometers. Normally I took public transportation, a subway and a bus. However, because of the attack, all such transportation was shut down. I was 56 years-old and in good aerobic condition as a former runner who had continued exercising. So, I started walking. There was no alternative.
I, along with thousands of others, headed uptown to the foot of the Queensboro (or 59th Street) Bridge. The eastbound side of the bridge was closed off to vehicular traffic allowing it to be used only by pedestrians returning to the Borough of Queens. The first half of the bridge is uphill and the second half downhill. At about the midpoint of the bridge I looked south and saw the eerie black cloud of smoke from what was left of the Twin Towers floating across the East River toward Brooklyn. That made the news reports of the attack more real.
Once over the bridge, I walked and walked and walked along Northern Boulevard with hundreds of others for as long as I could, at least two hours. Some of my fellow travelers shouted that our country was at war. Then, I called my ex-wife, Bonita, to please come and pick me up. It normally should have taken her no more than 30 minutes to get where I was. However, because of the cancelled public transportation, it took her two hours. It was a very long commute that day, one all New Yorkers will never forget.
As an American who remembers 9/11, I took special satisfaction when, on May 2, 2011, in Abottabad, Pakistan, Osama bin Laden, the man who boasted of being responsible for the attack on the Twin Towers, was killed by United States Special Forces. As the great American boxer, Joe Louis, once said, "You can run, but you can't hide."
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Wake Up The Echos
Yesterday, September 2, was for most the opening of the 2017 college football season. A multitude of games were played across the USA, some of the results of which I have listed. The University of Michigan Wolverines were victorious over the University of Florida Gators by a score of 33-17. The University of California Golden Bears defeated the University of North Carolina Tar Heels, 35-30. The University of Maryland Terrapins beat the University of Texas Longhorns, 51-41.
When I was growing up in the 1950s, college football was one of the three most popular spectator sports, along with Major League Baseball and boxing. The NFL and the NBA, very popular today, were not significant then.
The first college football game I saw in person was at the Orange Bowl in Miami on Christmas day 1952. I went with my brother, Paul, to see the North-South Shrine All-Star game. It ended in a 21-21 tie.
In the 1950s, there was only one college football game televised nationally every Saturday afternoon in the fall. Today, virtually every game is televised. Other games back then were available on the radio in local or regional markets. I remember listening to broadcasts of Syracuse University football games from my home, 40 miles from the campus.
In 1959, Syracuse won the National Championship of college football with an 11-0 record with victories over Kansas, Maryland, Navy, Holy Cross, West Virginia, Pitt, Penn State, Colgate, Boston University, UCLA (on national TV from the LA Coliseum), and Texas at the Cotton Bowl (also on national TV) in Dallas on January 1, 1960. Before 1959 and for many years after, the national championship was chosen by the vote of sportswriters. It is now won in a four team end of season tournament.
Besides the local broadcasts, I remember listening to games in other regions of the USA on radio networks (NBC, CBS, etc.) with local affiliates. One Saturday in 1953, I heard Navy crush Princeton by a score of 65-7. A good memory!
In the East, most of the top college football teams (Syracuse, Penn State, Pitt, Boston College, Army, and Navy) were not affiliated with any league. In 1956, the Ivy League, which had been an informal grouping of Brown, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, Penn, Princeton, and Yale, became official.
Most of the rest of the country was divided into various conferences: the Atlantic Coast Conference, the Southeast Conference, the Southwest Conference, the Big Ten, the Big 7, and the Pacific Coast Conference. Over the years, there have been many changes to this landscape. Penn State moved to the Big Ten. Syracuse moved to the Atlantic Coast Conference. Maryland moved from the Atlantic Coast Conference to the Big Ten. Arkansas and Texas A&M moved from the Southwest Conference to the Southeast Conference. The Southwest Conference merged with the Big 7 to become the Big 12.
The popularity of college football begins with the enthusiasm of the students. Later, this translates to a loyal group of alumni. I have been a fan of Penn since 1963. I have also been a fan of Michigan since my daughter, Rachel, matriculated in 1993 and a fan of Maryland since my son, Bret, went there in 2003. Finally, I have been a fan of North Carolina since I started working there in 2008.
Besides the students and the alumni, many other fans are drawn to the sport because of the enthusiasm of the players, who play, not because of money, but for the love of the game.
Last year, the Tennessee-Virginia Tech game at Bristol (TN) Motor Speedway drew over 150,000 spectators, which broke the old record (for largest attendance at a game) of more than 120,000 for the Notre Dame-Southern California game at Soldier's Field in Chicago in 1927. Michigan, Penn State, Texas A&M, Tennessee, Ohio State, Southern California, Louisiana State, Texas, and Alabama have stadiums that can seat more that 100,000 fans for a football game, and usually do.
No story about college football would be complete without a reference to the University of Notre Dame (ND) located just outside South Bend, Indiana. Before college football, ND was a small, little known mid-western Catholic university.
"In 1913, Notre Dame burst into the national consciousness and helped transform the game in a single contest. In an effort to gain respect, Notre Dame scheduled a game at national powerhouse Army. On November 1, Notre Dame stunned Army 35-13, with an attacking offense that featured long and accurate downfield forward passes from quarterback Gus Dorais to Knute Rockne in stride, which changed the forward pass from a seldom-used play into the dominant ball-moving strategy that it is today."
In 1918, Rockne became the Notre Dame head football coach. In his 13 years, The Fighting Irish (nickname) won 105 games, losing only 12 times. Rockne's 1924 team, which won the national championship, featured a backfield called the Four Horsemen (Jim Crowley, Elmer Layden, Don Miller, and Harry Stuhldreher) by the famous sports writer, Grantland Rice. Rockne's 1929 and 1930 teams went undefeated and again won national championships.
Another legendary coach, Frank Leahy, took over The Fighting Irish in 1941. In his 11 years, his teams won 87 and lost only 11. This included a stretch of 39 games without a loss, 4 national championships and 6 undefeated seasons. His last season, 1953, featured Heisman Trophy winner, Johnny Lattner.
In 1957, Notre Dame went to Norman, Oklahoma to play the heavily favored Sooners who had won 47 games in a row, still a record. Sports Illustrated ran a story that week as to why Oklahoma couldn't lose. ND won, 7-0. I watched the game on national TV.
In 1964, Ara Parseghian, who recently passed away, became the new Notre Dame head coach. In his 11 seasons, The Irish won 95 games and lost 17, winning 2 national championships, had 2 undefeated seasons, and 3 major bowl game victories. On his team was the great defensive lineman, Alan Page, who was born the same day I was.
Hollywood benefited from Notre Dame's national popularity with two movies, Knute Rockne All-American (1940), which starred Pat O'Brien (Rockne) and future US President, Ronald Reagan (star running back George Gipp), and Rudy (1993), about "the life of Daniel "Rudy" Ruettiger, who harbored dreams of playing football at Notre Dame despite significant obstacles."
Since 1991, the National Broadcasting Company (NBC) has exclusively broadcast all of Notre Dame's home football games (including yesterday's win over Temple). No other school has their own deal with a broadcast TV network. This speaks volumes about ND's national popularity. On the other hand, there is a large group of Notre Dame haters. I used to be one until I visited its beautiful campus last year.
Finally, although Penn (Fight on, Pennsylvania) and Michigan (Hail to the Victors) have great fight songs, I believe Notre Dame's is the best.
Cheer, cheer for Old Notre Dame,
Wake up the echoes cheering her name,
Send a volley cheer on high,
Shake down the thunder from the sky!
What though the odds be great or small,
Old Notre Dame will win over all,
While her loyal sons are marching
Onward to victory!
Send a volley cheer on high,
Shake down the thunder from the sky!
What though the odds be great or small,
Old Notre Dame will win over all,
While her loyal sons are marching
Onward to victory!
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 14
It is the first Sunday of December 1941 and the house is full of guests enjoying a festive occasion. Live Mexican music is playing, while Patricia and others circulate with food and drinks. Ben and Rita play hosts. Miguel arrives with his girlfriend, Raquel, and his friend, Eduardo.
Later, Ben greets the last arrival, an elderly neighbor, by the front door. His expression is somber.
"I'm afraid I have bad news," he says to Ben in Spanish. "Your country's been attacked. I'm so sorry."
"What did you say? "
The neighbor tried to make himself understood.
"Listen to the radio. The radio." Then he walks away.
Ben goes to the large radio in the living room and asks the people near him to lower their voices so he can hear the broadcast in Spanish.
"The latest reports are of wide-spread damage, death, and destruction at American military installations including Pearl Harbor on the Hawaiian Island of Oahu in the Pacific Ocean. This will undoubtedly mean war between the United States and Japan. I repeat, early this morning, naval air forces of the Empire of Japan attacked the U.S. Territory of Hawaii. We will be getting more reports soon. Please stay tuned to this station."
Ben is shocked, angry, and frustrated. A crowd of people, including Rita, gather to listen to the broadcast.
"I'm very sorry, Ben. Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't think so. I can't believe it. I'll call my brother. He'll know more."
"Let me know what you find out. I won't be far away."
As Rita leaves to attend to her guests, who are also drifting away from the radio, she keeps an eye on her husband. His country was attacked and he's far away. He's feeling impotent and wants revenge. If there were a Japanese there, he would have wanted to hit him. How dare they do this. His throat is dry. Ben heads to the kitchen for a drink of water. As he approaches, he overhears a conversation between Eduardo and another man.
"It's about time somebody bloodied the nose of the Americans," says Eduardo.
The other guest turns white as he notices Ben nearby. Ben enters the kitchen and confronts a surprised Eduardo.
Ben asks, "What did you say?"
"It wasn't important."
"Something about Americans and a bloody nose?"
Ben is in the mood to pick a fight. Eduardo regains his composure.
"Look, you must understand that, over the years, the United States has treated Mexico with some measure of disrespect. You invaded us and stole half our country. Even after that, you, I mean your country has dealt with Mexico shamefully. So, you can surely understand why some Mexicans may not shed a tear at this unfortunate loss of yours, I mean your country's, in Hawaii."
"I see. This has been very educational. However, I think it would be better if we discussed this further...outside."
"You're joking."
Ben leans forward so that he can whisper into Eduardo's ear.
"If you don't start walking out the back door with me, I'm going to tell everyone here that you are a coward and a son of a bitch."
He glares at Eduardo. At first, Eduardo shows no expression. Then, it changes to one of a happy opportunity to give an American his comeuppance. Also, he can show Rita she married the wrong man.
"After you," said Eduardo.
"No, after you," responded Ben.
"Whatever you want."
The two head out the back door. Rita is the only witness to their leaving, staying behind in the house at a discreet distance. She hadn't heard their conversation in the kitchen. However, based on the expression on her face, she wonders what had happened. Was this about the attack? Did Eduardo call Ben a gringo? Better yet, was this about her? She did have that one date with Eduardo. Perhaps he was still interested, even if he was a pompous, egotistical fool. Maybe Ben found out and is jealous. Two men fighting over her, how very exhilarating. On the other hand, she hopes Ben doesn't get hurt. But, if he did, she could play nurse.
Out in the yard, well away from the house, from where Rita is watching, the two men have some privacy. They take off their ties and jackets and roll up their sleeves.
"I suggest we fight only with our fists, in a gentlemanly way of course, Marquis of Queensberry, if you know what I mean," said Eduardo.
"I agree with you completely."
Eduardo is a little shorter than Ben, but is younger and in better physical condition. He had some experience boxing at school. He wants to feel out his opponent before giving him a well-deserved beating.
Ben, on the other hand, hasn't had a fist fight since junior high school. However, he's full of rage and wants to hit something very hard and very soon.
They approach each other with fists raised. At the backdoor, Rita's heart is racing with excitement and fear. Eduardo moves around a bit trying to confuse Ben, while looking for an opening. Ben stands still waiting to counter Eduardo's first forward move. Finally, Eduardo throws a light left jab at Ben's face. Ben reacts with speed and ferocity. With his right forearm, he chops Eduardo's left fist downward, throwing him off balance. Then, Ben shoots his left fist straight at Eduardo's face with all the power he can muster, catching him below his right eye. Eduardo feels a great deal of pain and makes an involuntary "ugh" sound. As quickly as he can, Ben follows this up with a wicked right cross directly at Eduardo's aristocratic nose. He puts all his leverage behind this punch. Eduardo's eyes close and he falls flat on his back, half-conscious. The prone Eduardo moans, and best of all for Ben, blood begins to flow from his nostrils. Ben bends down over his fallen adversary.
"Can you hear me?"
There's no response, so Ben grabs the front of Eduardo's shirt to pull his bruised face closer to his own.
"Eduardo, can you hear me?" Ben raised his voice a bit. Eduardo moans. "I want you to get out of here as soon as you can and never come back. Understand?"
Ben drops him back to the ground with a thud. He picks up his tie and jacket and heads toward the back door, full of pride and some measure of revenge for those at Pearl Harbor. As he reaches the back door, Rita steps out with a big smile on her face.
"You saw that?" asks Ben.
"I want to make love to you right now, my hero."
"Look, I'm sorry this happened, but..."
"Don't say another word, my champion."
They walk arm in arm back into the house, leaving Eduardo to enjoy the fresh air a little while longer.
Later, Ben greets the last arrival, an elderly neighbor, by the front door. His expression is somber.
"I'm afraid I have bad news," he says to Ben in Spanish. "Your country's been attacked. I'm so sorry."
"What did you say? "
The neighbor tried to make himself understood.
"Listen to the radio. The radio." Then he walks away.
Ben goes to the large radio in the living room and asks the people near him to lower their voices so he can hear the broadcast in Spanish.
"The latest reports are of wide-spread damage, death, and destruction at American military installations including Pearl Harbor on the Hawaiian Island of Oahu in the Pacific Ocean. This will undoubtedly mean war between the United States and Japan. I repeat, early this morning, naval air forces of the Empire of Japan attacked the U.S. Territory of Hawaii. We will be getting more reports soon. Please stay tuned to this station."
Ben is shocked, angry, and frustrated. A crowd of people, including Rita, gather to listen to the broadcast.
"I'm very sorry, Ben. Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't think so. I can't believe it. I'll call my brother. He'll know more."
"Let me know what you find out. I won't be far away."
As Rita leaves to attend to her guests, who are also drifting away from the radio, she keeps an eye on her husband. His country was attacked and he's far away. He's feeling impotent and wants revenge. If there were a Japanese there, he would have wanted to hit him. How dare they do this. His throat is dry. Ben heads to the kitchen for a drink of water. As he approaches, he overhears a conversation between Eduardo and another man.
"It's about time somebody bloodied the nose of the Americans," says Eduardo.
The other guest turns white as he notices Ben nearby. Ben enters the kitchen and confronts a surprised Eduardo.
Ben asks, "What did you say?"
"It wasn't important."
"Something about Americans and a bloody nose?"
Ben is in the mood to pick a fight. Eduardo regains his composure.
"Look, you must understand that, over the years, the United States has treated Mexico with some measure of disrespect. You invaded us and stole half our country. Even after that, you, I mean your country has dealt with Mexico shamefully. So, you can surely understand why some Mexicans may not shed a tear at this unfortunate loss of yours, I mean your country's, in Hawaii."
"I see. This has been very educational. However, I think it would be better if we discussed this further...outside."
"You're joking."
Ben leans forward so that he can whisper into Eduardo's ear.
"If you don't start walking out the back door with me, I'm going to tell everyone here that you are a coward and a son of a bitch."
He glares at Eduardo. At first, Eduardo shows no expression. Then, it changes to one of a happy opportunity to give an American his comeuppance. Also, he can show Rita she married the wrong man.
"After you," said Eduardo.
"No, after you," responded Ben.
"Whatever you want."
The two head out the back door. Rita is the only witness to their leaving, staying behind in the house at a discreet distance. She hadn't heard their conversation in the kitchen. However, based on the expression on her face, she wonders what had happened. Was this about the attack? Did Eduardo call Ben a gringo? Better yet, was this about her? She did have that one date with Eduardo. Perhaps he was still interested, even if he was a pompous, egotistical fool. Maybe Ben found out and is jealous. Two men fighting over her, how very exhilarating. On the other hand, she hopes Ben doesn't get hurt. But, if he did, she could play nurse.
Out in the yard, well away from the house, from where Rita is watching, the two men have some privacy. They take off their ties and jackets and roll up their sleeves.
"I suggest we fight only with our fists, in a gentlemanly way of course, Marquis of Queensberry, if you know what I mean," said Eduardo.
"I agree with you completely."
Eduardo is a little shorter than Ben, but is younger and in better physical condition. He had some experience boxing at school. He wants to feel out his opponent before giving him a well-deserved beating.
Ben, on the other hand, hasn't had a fist fight since junior high school. However, he's full of rage and wants to hit something very hard and very soon.
They approach each other with fists raised. At the backdoor, Rita's heart is racing with excitement and fear. Eduardo moves around a bit trying to confuse Ben, while looking for an opening. Ben stands still waiting to counter Eduardo's first forward move. Finally, Eduardo throws a light left jab at Ben's face. Ben reacts with speed and ferocity. With his right forearm, he chops Eduardo's left fist downward, throwing him off balance. Then, Ben shoots his left fist straight at Eduardo's face with all the power he can muster, catching him below his right eye. Eduardo feels a great deal of pain and makes an involuntary "ugh" sound. As quickly as he can, Ben follows this up with a wicked right cross directly at Eduardo's aristocratic nose. He puts all his leverage behind this punch. Eduardo's eyes close and he falls flat on his back, half-conscious. The prone Eduardo moans, and best of all for Ben, blood begins to flow from his nostrils. Ben bends down over his fallen adversary.
"Can you hear me?"
There's no response, so Ben grabs the front of Eduardo's shirt to pull his bruised face closer to his own.
"Eduardo, can you hear me?" Ben raised his voice a bit. Eduardo moans. "I want you to get out of here as soon as you can and never come back. Understand?"
Ben drops him back to the ground with a thud. He picks up his tie and jacket and heads toward the back door, full of pride and some measure of revenge for those at Pearl Harbor. As he reaches the back door, Rita steps out with a big smile on her face.
"You saw that?" asks Ben.
"I want to make love to you right now, my hero."
"Look, I'm sorry this happened, but..."
"Don't say another word, my champion."
They walk arm in arm back into the house, leaving Eduardo to enjoy the fresh air a little while longer.
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