DAVID KOUVEK'S OWN ADVENTURES IN GOOD EATING

Unlike Duncan Hines, America’s well-known twentieth century gourmet, who used to roam about the country in search of exotic tastes, this writer is just a fellow who has traveled a fair bit, thus having had frequent opportunity to drop in for a bite after a hard day’s journeying and sight-gasping. Furthermore, we won’t be citing the most renowned hash houses throughout the globe, but only those where memories of a delightful repast or two has been immensely enjoyed. For example, we’ve never been to Maxim’s in Paris, Amsterdam’s Five Flies, or Antoine’s, down New Orleans way. Actually, a few of our chosen eating spots are small-sized, removed some distance from the fast-track tourist areas, and never prominently displayed in the brochures.

Unfortunately, this article can hardly be usable as a guide to would-be travelers/diners. Many of our choicer beaneries may well have either ceased to exist, declined in quality, or been converted to airline ticket offices, since long years have passed since we last visited the cities mentioned. It’s simply that the recollections refuse to fade from memory.

Unhappily, the identities of a certain select few have been irretrievably forgotten. Among others are the delightful spot in Vienna which served a marvelous black forest cake for dessert, and the Michigan ski area emporium where, if you ordered a steak, they’d throw away the horns and the tail before bringing you the rest.

Anyway, our list of the fifteen most memorable appears below, alphabetically by city.

BANGKOK, THAILAND – DUX
As pleasant a spot to visit for lunch as we've found anywhere in the entire world. Not only was the food excellent, but a person could hardly tire of the unusual decor -- miniature duck figures large, medium, and small by the dozens, viewable both within the dining area and the outdoor garden, visible to all patrons, hence the establishment's chosen name. We must sadly report, however, that for undetermined reasons, the owner closed this delightful eatery a few years ago. Having since moved away from Thailand, we can't be certain if he reopened elsewhere or not. In either case, the memory of our favorite noontime restaurant will remain with us always.

BRUSSELS, BELGIUM – LE BERLAIMONT
Located just opposite the Common Market Building, in our opinion, no better steak house exists worldwide. The smallish place used to be run by a gracious middle-aged lady, who served as maitresse d’, bartender, and lone waitress all by herself. The menu selection proved bountiful. The sole drawback was the cigarette smoke drifting over in cloudlike formation from the bar adjacent to the dining room. Perhaps that has since been rectified by law. This place caters chiefly to locals, so if the owner is still on hand doing her multiple chores, we recommend taking along a friend who speaks either French or German, unless you happen to be skilled at ordering in sign language.

CHIANG MAI, THAILAND - BRUNO'S
The native Swiss proprietor offers a most delightful atmosphere, coupled with superb food and an impressive wine list. As in other cases we cite here, a meal at Bruno's will be long remembered.

CHIANG MAI, THAILAND – THE WESTIN HOTEL DINING ROOM
The Westin offers the most prolifically-laid out buffet we’ve ever seen in the whole world. A meal there is an adventure unto itself. This particular city lies an hour north of Bangkok by air.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS – GEORGE DIAMOND’S STEAK HOUSE
This city has as vast an array of superb beaneries as one might find anywhere, including New York City. To us, however, George Diamond’s remains the most recallable. The management very wisely kept the dining area small enough to be well occupied throughout any mealtime period. As a result, most patrons would be required to first wait at the bar, but with tables becoming miraculously available just as the second cocktail had been poured. This surely helped boost a day’s profit. The steaks were excellent, and the house adamantly refused to bring catsup or any other condiment which would compromise the meat’s taste. You either ate it as broiled or went hungry.

CLEVELAND, OHIO - CAVOLI'S
Without a doubt, the best eating spot in all of the city's west side. Although the bill-of-fare selections are varied and plentiful, our personal suggestion is to go for one of the Italian specialties.

CLEVELAND, OHIO – MAX GRUBER’S
Max used to run the best restaurant in Cleveland, and hopefully his heirs still do so. Be sure to order sauer kraut balls as an appetizer. Beyond that, whatever you choose off the menu will be tops.

CLEVELAND, OHIO – THE THEATRICAL GRILL
Located in the heart of Cleveland’s business district, this delightful watering hole and eatery used to be owned by Morris “Mushy” Wexler, alleged to have a few underworld connections. However, who cared? In addition to excellent food, and bartenders you felt you’d known for twenty years, there was high-level musical entertainment every evening.

CINCINNATI, OHIO – TED KLUSZEWSKI’S
Although the writer had learned to shun eateries owned by former athletes, this turned out to be a definite exception (Jack Dempsey’s in New York being another, but not outstanding enough to make our list). Aside from the steaks offerable at Brussels’ Le Berliamont, Ted’s emporium served the best one we’ve ever demolished. The ex-home run hitting first baseman has since left us, but we hope the restaurant remains, with the output just as exemplary.

COLUMBUS, OHIO – THE JAI ALAI
Not the most highly publicized dining spot in town, but decidedly preferable to any other, the Jai Alai used to feature the old-fashioned free lunch table(well, everything cost a nickel then) from bygone days. Over and above that, the regular meals served were first rate.

GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN – SCOTTIE’S
This spot had delightful atmosphere, excellent service, and the best food ever recalled in the state of Michigan. Run by a gentleman, who tended the bar, and his wife, who seated you, it was limited in space, but great in all other respects.

JACKSON, MICHIGAN – BILL CONE’S
In an area known for its multiple buffet-style locations, Bill’s always seemed to stand about all the rest, including the more renowned Win Schuler establishments. Perhaps the marvelous service had much to do with it. In addition, nobody ever left after a meal there still feeling the slightest bit hungry.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – LAWRY’S THE PRIME RIB
Run by the makers of Lawry’s Salt for meat-flavor enhancement, this restaurant rates among the most unique in our memory, the reason being that it offered a single entrée only. The waitress would hand you no menu, but merely ask how you would like your prime rib of beef cooked – from rare up to well done. You’d never regret having been there, unless you happened to be a sworn vegetarian. The place would also catch the interest of the movie-star gawking types, because they’d be apt to see a few at other tables.

NEW YORK CITY – KEEN’S ENGLISH CHOP HOUSE
Keen’s may be more famous for its key atmospheric feature than its bill-of-fare, but you’re still bound to find the English mutton chop specialty quite satisfying. The big extra is the ability to enjoy a relaxing smoke on your private old-fashioned clay pipe following the meal. We dare not go back, though, having licked the tobacco habit long ago.

NEW YORK CITY – MAMA LEONIE’S
True, Gotham has many more fantastically-arrayed bistros than Leonie’s, but what remains most vividly in memory is the wide range of tasty food served, usually as supplements to the meal as ordered. This spot merits patronization for the culinary variety alone.

PARIS, FRANCE – LE TOKIANA
Most likely, few readers have ever been to this location, or even heard the name mentioned. Strictly a family eating place, and tucked away in a remote city neighborhood, even the taxi driver may have trouble finding it. If you do succeed in getting there, you won’t forget the meal. Make certain to order crepes flambees at dessert time, even if you’re already stuffed to the gills. The restaurant’s limited publicity stresses that it offers Basque food, whatever message that conveys.

ROME, ITALY – HARRY’S BAR
This very fine restaurant mustn’t be confused with the famous Paris bar bearing the same name, and occupied liberally by ladies of the night at any time. Our Harry’s lies at the very end of Rome’s widely-known Via Veneto, just before the entrance to the Villa Borghese, a public park. Perhaps the memory of a wonderful dinner was amplified by our charming guest companion.

WHAT'S PLAYING AT THE MOVIES TONIGHT, DEAR?

(A Domestic Drama in One Act)

Dramatis Personae:
Sam Evening, a husband home after a hard day’s work
Janet Evening, his wife, who had a tiring afternoon of bridge with her friends

The Setting:
Their living room, just following dinner

(Curtain)
Sam: What’s playing at the movies tonight, Dear?
Janet: (Turning newspaper pages) Hmm, let’s see ….. well, the Detroit has Gilda.
Sam: Who’s in it?
Janet: Gwyllyn Samuel Newton Ford and Margarita Carmen Cansino.
Sam: Seen it. What else?
Janet: The Graduate is on at the Hilliard Square. That’s the one where Anna Maria Luisa
Italiano seduces that young fellow just out of …..
Sam: Naw, too much sex. How about the Granada?
Janet: Aha! That exciting chariot race film, Ben Hur, with John Charles Carter.
Sam: Don’t like movies about horses. What else?
Janet: The Lincoln has a double feature. The first is Gone with the Wind. Remember, Vivian
Mary Hartley won an Oscar as …..
Sam: About the Civil War? Fooey. What’s the second one?
Janet: A horror film, the Son of Frankenstein. It has Philip St. John Rathbone, with William
Henry Platt as the monster.
Sam: Who plays Igor?
Janet: Umm ….. Bela Ferenc Dezso Blasko.
Sam: Naah, no frightening shows for me tonight. Anything else?
Janet: At the Lucier it’s Pillow Talk, a husband-wife comedy, with Roy Harold Scherer Jr. and
Doris Mary Ann Von Kappelhoff. Sounds good. What do you say we …..
Sam: Not tonight. Is there anything with a lot of dancing?
Janet: You bet. We can go to the Beach Cliff and watch Frederick Austerlitz and Virginia
Katherine McMath in …..
Sam: Never mind that. Try some of the downtown theaters.
Janet: Aah ….. at the Palace they have a cowboy flick starring Marion Michael Morrison, and the
State is featuring West Side Story, with Natalia Nikolaerna Zakharenko as the girl who
tragically gets shot …..
Sam: Doesn’t sound so hot to me. Try the Stillman.
Janet: They have that film about the criminal running around the Casbah to avoid the cops, but
falling for his girl friend, and …..
Sam: Who plays the female role?
Janet: That Austrian beauty, Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler.
Sam: Aw, I was hoping you’d say Greta Lovita Gustafsson. I liked her. Do you see her name
anywhere?
Janet: No. Sorry, but we might try the Hippodrome.
Sam: What’s there?
Janet: Psycho, where Jeanette Helen Morrison is stabbed to death in the shower.
Sam: Too gruesome. How about the Allen?
Janet: Oh, this looks pretty good. Love Is a Many Splendored Thing, with William Franklin
Beedle Jr. and Phyllis Lee Isley.
Sam: Too slushy for me. Let’s stay home. Look at the TV schedule.
Janet: (Turning more pages) Well, for the old movies, there’s Bernard Schwartz in the Boston
Strangler.
Sam: Hey! Knock it off with the violence!
Janet: Well, a slightly more toned down one could be I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang.
Sam: Who played in that?
Janet: A very fine method actor, named Meshilem Meier Weisenfreud.
Sam: Maybe. Still, I don’t go for prison movies that much. Any variety shows on? Singers and
stuff?
Janet: We can see that comedy piano player, Borge Rosenbaum ….. or the girl who had such hits
as Tennessee Waltz and Mockingbird Hill.
Sam: What’s her name?
Janet: Clara Ann Fowler.
Sam: How about old Lucy Shows?
Janet: Yes, at ten o’clock, starring Dianne Belmont, as always. Then, at eleven is a rerun of
Maverick, with James Scott Baumgarner, or else the Aaron Chwatt Show. You
remember, don’t you, the comedian who used to sing Strange Things Are Happening and
the Ho-Ho Song?
Sam: No.
Janet: All right, then, if you want to stay up until three AM, we’ll be able to see the old movie
My Fair Lady.
Sam: Who’s in that? I forget.
Janet: Reginald Carey Henderson as Professor Higgins and Audrey Kathleen Ruston as Eliza
Doolittle.
Sam: That sounds too corny. (Yawn) Guess I’d better hit the sack early. Big day tomorrow.
(Janet folds paper and sits back in her chair as the curtain falls)

PUBLIC OPINION POLLS: WHO EVER INVENTED SUCH NONSENSE?

Perhaps the most fitting quote we’ve ever heard regarding public opinion polls was offered years ago by comedy writer Goodman Ace, when he remarked that “Everybody pays attention to them, from the lowest ranked office boy in any business firm all the way up to Thomas E. Dewey, President of the United States”.

The astute Mr. Ace seemed to capture the very gist of the pollster universe in a nutshell with that simple observation.

For those too young to expressly remember the reason underlying such comment, the Gallup, Roper, and whatever other poll services did their thing back during the 1948 presidential campaigns, kept pumping out periodic findings, with barely a variation from start to finish. The consistent prediction was that mudslinging champion Dewey would thump Harry Truman by a significant margin.

It goes without saying that we were all extremely surprised when election day evening rolled around, and we could see a victorious Truman beaming before the camera, as he held up an anticipatorily optimistic Chicago Tribune issue proclaiming DEWEY ELECTED. The paper’s editors had obviously considered the poll results equivalent to the Gospel of St. What’s-his-name. What’s more, bookies across the country were quick to admit they had not only lost their shirts, but their undershirts as well.

The ill-fated 1948 polls, however, were not the most climactically erroneous in history. During the early 1930s, a well-respected magazine called the Literary Digest, which had existed since 1890, rolled off the presses at Funk & Wagnalls every week. Current opinion articles and news analysis formed the heart of its coverage.

Then came 1936, a presidential election year. Five candidates had reached the final showdown, but the only possible winners were Republican Governor Alfred M. Landon of Kansas and the incumbent Oval Office occupant Democrat Franklin D. Roosevelt. No doubt as a means for attracting greater reader interest, the Literary Digest conducted an ongoing poll to predict the November winner.

Being nowhere nearly as sophisticated or objective as our 21st century canvassing wizards, the magazine solicited its prospective voter preferences from the following sources only:
1. Their own readers, which consisted of the better-off incomewise, since the country was
enveloped in a deep depression, making erudite publications less than affordable to the
majority.
2. Automobile owners, at the time another group whose membership was limited to the higher
earners.
3. Telephone service subscribers, whose capability of having their homes adorned with such
gadgetry amounted to nothing less than a virtual luxury.

This naively-administered poll assured an overwhelming landslide victory for Governor Landon. The magazine folk had completely ignored the countless downtrodden citizens, whose sympathies consequently lay with FDR.

When the votes had all been counted, the tally came out Roosevelt 46 states, Landon 2. Never again has a supposedly well-conceived poll been so far off the mark. Needless to say, the Literary Digest ceased to be published shortly thereafter. Who in blazes would want to read a magazine that had exhibited such utter stupidity?

With that long since under our belts, we now jump to the present day. To express our current feelings in a couple sentences, we find ourselves up to our so-called arsses with one poll after another being waged on this subject or that. Frankly, we object to being inundated day after day with pronouncements over almost every politically-related or nearly so issue under the sun.

In fact, this writer’s former steady habit of watching CNN on the boob tube has been abruptly stopped, as if its airwaves emitted bubonic plague. We don’t wish to hear the results of polls, polls, and more polls ad nauseam any further.

The majority of today’s public opinion surveyors have likely attained optimum sophistication in their methods. Still, we believe some may be dishing out questionnaires rather slanted at times. Straightforward or otherwise, though, we’re mighty fed up with the whole lot.

Our longstanding and ever continuing preference is to deal solely with established facts, not shady suppositions.

THE GOP

Based on the Republican Party’s traditional behavior patterns, we’ve finally been able to figure out what those three code letters stand for: GREED, OBSTRUCTIONISM, PROCRASTINATION.

HOLLYWOOD'S WAY: TELL IT LIKE IT WASN'T

Although a confessed movie buff from way back, this writer has found ample reason for shying away from any contemporary or future films of a biographical or historical nature. When the facts surrounding a particular event or an individual’s characterization often become flagrantly twisted merely for added audience enjoyment purposes, our rebellious outlook springs to life. Over the years, we’ve watched a good many Hollywood productions which have contained either major or less significant distortions, usually sufficient to convince us we should have better stayed at home and read a book.

We’ve picked out a dozen examples where Hollywood’s penchant for deviating from realism or reality remains indelibly in mind as deplorable misstatements and misrepresentations, where people or situations are involved. There are obviously many more, but it’s the principle involved, not the overwhelming volume of script falsifications, that we’ve chosen to focus upon.

MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY (1935 and 1962)
Captain William Bligh was not a downright schmuck who inflicted harsh and unjust punishments to crew members, apparently for sadistic personal satisfaction. His true character lay on the reserved side, with fairness often guiding his judgment. Although the causes leading to the legendary mutiny still aren’t fully clear, they certainly didn’t arise from his abject cruelty.

KNUTE ROCKNE, ALL-AMERICAN (1940)
This case may be relatively minor, but it stands as an unmitigated insult to one of America’s most revered football coaches, to portray how he decided to alter his team’s backfield coordination strategy after watching chorus girls dance in unison at a night club floor show.

PRIDE OF THE YANKEES (1942)
The immortal Lou Gehrig decidedly did not precede his first ever trip to the plate by clumsily falling over a row of baseball bats lying outside the dugout, nor did the crowd’s uproarious laughter then quickly subside, allowing his eventual missus to loudly cry “Tanglefoot!” from the front row. Yish!

TILL THE CLOUDS ROLL BY (1946)
This film gives the viewer the distinct impression that Jerome Kern handled the full composition effort, i.e. both words and music, for his countless songs. Credit due to Oscar Hammerstein II and other affiliated lyricists received the absolutely scantest mention. We deem this grossly unfair, especially considering the marvelous talents of those people summarily overlooked.

WORDS AND MUSIC (1948)
As a homosexual, Lorenz Hart could have hardly spent his entire career mooning over a girl who spurned him from the outset. Additionally, the scene with Mickey Rooney (as Hart) and Judy Garland (as herself) singing a number together at a party is completely anachronistic, she having been only a little girl in real life at the time of the film’s setting.

THE STRATTON STORY (1949)
Monty Stratton pitched effectively for a few seasons with the Chicago White Sox, but gained only limited status, not the league-shattering prominence the film depicted, up until his tragic leg loss in a hunting mishap. He tried returning to play with an artificial limb in sandlot games, but never one so important as an all-star event, according to the fabricated script.

THE WINNING TEAM (1952)
Ronald Reagan portrayed National League pitcher Grover Cleveland Alexander as a man who received his inspiration for striking out opposing batters just by seeing his wife’s face in the stands. This has to be the most ridiculous giggle in any sport movie ever turned out. As a moundsman of the highest caliber, but encumbered with a personal problem, his hang-up had nothing to do with the need for affectionate looks. He was a lush of the first order, said on occasions to head straight to the ball park following an extended drunken binge.

THE BENNY GOODMAN STORY (1956)
Perhaps the real Benny did possess an innate shyness which delayed proposing marriage to his first wife, as the plot went. However, the scene where he finally pops the question by playing his clarinet and looking out at his lady friend seated in the Carnegie Hall audience wins the all-time preposterousness prize. How silly can those Hollywood folk get?

SOMEBODY UP THERE LIKES ME (1956)
Rocky Graziano was a lowdown street-brawling hoodlum, who could barely control himself, often resorting to his fists when slightly disgruntled, thus leading to continuous trouble. The affable and readily likable Paul Newman should never have been cast in the lead role.

THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI (1957)
Beyond question, this ranks among the finest movies ever produced. The misleading aspect is that British commandos never did sneak up and blow the bridge to smithereens. Factually speaking, it remains standing and in use today, far more sturdily constructed than the film showed.

FUNNY GIRL (1968)
Fanny Brice’s husband (the second of three in real life, not the first of two) Nicky Arnstein may not have had an honest or decent bone in his entire body, being an out-and-out swindler. The boys certainly cleaned up the character for Omar Sharif’s impressive nice upstanding chap performance.

GABLE AND LOMBARD (1976)
This production has to stand high among filmdom’s stinkeroos from the distortion angle. For openers, Carole Lombard did play several successful comedic lead roles in the 1930s, but never once reigned as undisputed queen of the cinema, as they would have us believe. Moreover, the supposed paternity suit filed against Clark Gable was totally fictitious, having been lifted instead from actual cases involving Errol Flynn and Charlie Chaplin during that era.

CLOSING COMMENT
What else can we say except oh, boy?

A FEW THOUGHTS ON POUNDAGE AND ROTUNDITY

Not long ago, one of our blog entries suggested that it might be an excellent idea if obesity were considered a misdemeanor, punishable by fine or imprisonment. We have to admit that’s stretching the issue a bit far. Nevertheless, what more revolting sight is there than a woman out in public carrying enough bulk to qualify her as a potential defensive tackle for the Green Bay Packers?

In fact, “her” isn’t the correct pronoun. Based on observations whenever we go out seemingly anywhere, it’s a case of “them” instead. Lardbutt types keep showing up in droves these days.

Still, we mustn’t just point the finger at overly fleshed-out females. A man sporting a prominent lower gut is almost equally regurgitating to view. We honestly fail to understand how an obese member of either sex can stand before a mirror without feeling utterly disgusted at the image.

Speaking of sex, now that we’ve used it in context, that leads to another element. Becoming so aroused is clearly a natural inclination, especially upon seeing a slim, trim lass, or else a gentleman whose build somewhat resembles that of a Greek god. On the other hand, we’d believe it extremely difficult for one’s libido to register any charge at all over an opposite gender’s figure which amounts to a mass of sheer fat, clothed or otherwise. Maybe our present-day prevalence of extra-marital activity has been furthered to a certain extent for this reason.

On the numerous occasions when we are so unfortunate as to spot a gentleman with an obvious ultra-protuberance in the abdominal area, our standard private comment is “I hope it’s a boy”. Maybe we’d accomplish something by walking up to the fellow and thus advising him, but that could be deemed too much of a direct insult, albeit deserved.

During our schooldays long ago, a certain male classmate is recalled as having stated almost passionately that he could never resist peanut butter. Upon recently seeing an up-to-date photo of the fellow, hence at a much more advanced age, we realized in an instant that his uncontrollable taste for such edible commodity had obviously never abated, as determinable by how his lower t-shirt area bulged outward.

Having let it all hang out, so to speak, we now feel obliged to recommend what punitive steps might be desirable regarding that abundant array of folk who are so thoroughly frightful to observe, and for which the fault rests almost exclusively with themselves.

We would strongly urge, at the very least, that such overly-padded members of either sex be required to remain at home and inside for, let’s say, 144 hours each week, with exit permission only during the other 24. In addition, we’d love to see legislation subjecting them to fines of up to perhaps $2,000 for ever appearing at public beaches or pools in swimming attire.

WINCHELL WAS AHEAD OF HIS TIME

In those late 1940s and early 1950s days, with postwar inflation beginning to take its firm hold, a person soon came to realize that a single dollar could no longer buy a candy bar, a pack of chewing gum, a pay telephone call, a cup of coffee, a couple donuts, a trolley car or bus ride, admission for two to a movie theater, and a hot fudge sundae for your girl friend after the show. On a particular evening, we heard the famed, yet not exactly lovable columnist and radio commentator Walter Winchell voice a contemporary era joke over the airways.

The semi-grim witticism featured the proverbial fellow asking his friend “Hey, did you hear the government is going to stop making one dollar bills?”, to which his compatriot typically answered “Why?”
Then came the first speaker with “What good are they?”

Although Walter’s point wasn’t quite that true at the time, more than a half-century has since gone by, and the joke’s underlying principle has not only remained, but expanded considerably.

Today, we fail to understand why the U.S. Mint continues producing coins below a quarter. By updating Winchell’s punch line, we sincerely ask why waste time, effort, and needed government expenditure churning out pennies, nickels, and dimes? What on earth can a person buy today with any such chunk of metal? The price of smaller value items could easily be rounded up a mite to arrive at the nearest twenty-five cent piece multiple as appropriate, and the consumer would barely notice or probably not even care.

In these days of world economic crisis brought on by our Republican masterminds when they were calling the shots, we believe our idea has merit.

A PLEA FOR MERCY

We can’t help but feel that an injustice has been committed in the case of Bernard Madoff. Accordingly, we strongly urge citizens everywhere to contact their Senators and Congressman, seeking mercy on the man’s behalf.

Our recommendation is that his prison sentence be reduced from 150 to 75 years. After all, we must be fair.

THE U.S. ARMY'S 106TH INFANTRY "GOLDEN LION" DIVISION -- MORE OF A PUSSYCAT ACTUALLY

GENESIS AND EXODUS

The 106th Infantry Division was activated on March 15, 1943 at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, thus becoming the army’s most junior combat outfit. The newly-designed shoulder patch portrayed a lion’s face, which looked downright timid in comparison to the famous MGM mascot. Its central color seemed more like yellow than gold, against a darkish blue background and a red outer border. Despite whatever imagery might have been intended, ferociousness certainly didn’t come to mind.



Historically speaking, this division may have been the shortest lived ever. After only 63 days in European Theater front-line action during World War II, it was officially deactivated on October 2, 1945, aged two years, six and a half months.



Despite this unusually short life, the 106th became heralded for its defensive stand against the counteroffensive attack launched by German forces in the Ardennes area, which began on December 16, 1944 and essentially ended only a few days later. Some high-ranking military officers praised its performance rather glowingly, and an American newscaster even wrote an extremely complimentary book, published as early as 1945.



Nevertheless, from our direct personal observation, the accolades heaped on the Golden Lion boys appear way overblown. Before elaborating further, more background information seems in order.



Following the Fort Jackson inauguration ceremony, the division’s travel itinerary was limited to Tennessee Maneuvers, then Camp Atterbury, Indiana, Camp Myles Standish, Massachusetts, to England by sea, and finally France, Belgium, and Germany. That last stop proved to be just in time for annihilation by a better trained, albeit inadequately supplied enemy.



During the Camp Atterbury period, which ran from March 28, 1944 until early October of the same year, the unit chiefly became a source for replacements to fill casualty-incurred gaps in combat zones elsewhere. Although the Tennessee Maneuvers experience had hardened the troops to a minor extent, the subsequent decimation process necessitated the thinned-out ranks to be replenished by a flood of fuzzy-cheeked youths, fresh from basic training, which had been subjected to severe curtailment in many instances. One resultant effect was the outfit’s overall average age drop to 22. Consequently, autumn of 1945 found perhaps the greenest infantry organization in U.S. military annals packing up and bundling off toward a waiting battleground.



BATTLE STATIONS

When the very brief so-called training and toughening exercises on English soil had been deemed sufficient, the geniuses who ran the U.S. Army from the upper levels plunked the 106th Division into the Ardennes area, smack in front of the entrenched German forces, and deployed over a geographical range roughly five times the standard width span for a unit of that size. Weather conditions precluded air support, the artillery never became fully oriented with its targets, the terrain was far too hilly for tank operations, and much-needed winter clothing lay in short supply. The critical situation rounded out with the presence of a youth-infested organization which had no prior fighting experience whatsoever.



December 16, 1944 opened with crack enemy forces proceeding to overrun and surround the poorly-geared Americans, repelling any defensive thrust attempts. A steady three-day assault found two entire U.S. regiments obliged to surrender, along with affiliated artillery batteries, engineer battalions, and others.



The division’s casualty statistics appear somewhat skewed in contrast to usual conditions, with 417 killed, 1,275 wounded, and a massive 6,697 taken prisoner. We can’t help but wonder if any other U.S. military organization has ever suffered a record of such relative disproportion.



This Ardennes Counteroffensive quickly earned the label Battle of the Bulge, due to the bubble-shaped image formed on the map as Hitler’s legions broke through the feeble and utterly useless barriers confronting them. We can say with absolute certainty that the actual events barely resembled those shown in the movie of the same name twenty years or so afterward.



Moreover, the ensuing prisoner of war life endured by those 6,697 fellows, with not everyone managing to survive the ordeal, involved absolutely no well-conceived subterfuge and espionage acts as pulled off by Hogan’s Heroes in the popular television series later on. The camps weren’t run by nincompoops like Colonel Klink and Sergeant Schultz either.



What the 106th actually achieved amounted to simply lying in the enemy’s way, offering pocket resistance to the fullest possible extent, thus altogether causing important delay, instead of the planned more rapid movement. This is the sole reason for the unit’s commendation, with a presidential citation medal being awarded to the division as a whole. For an outfit that did little more than get its proverbial ass resoundingly kicked, such honors seem unwarranted. Nevertheless, the U.S. military has traditionally chosen to bend over backwards in voicing praise of its troops under fire.



THE AFTERMATH

Presumably, most or maybe all division, regiment, or other war machine entities in past or ongoing existence have established “alumni” associations as a commemoration means. The 106th Golden Lions are no exception. Since the minimum World War II participation age in 1944 was 18, and the outfit has only a single battle to reflect upon, any veteran member still around today must be at least 83 years old. As a consequence, a game of last man standing is in force among the surviving troops.



What tends to make matters a mite perplexing is the alleged sanctity attached to a lone combat confrontation, followed by approximately four months’ barbed wire captivity, punctuated with lengthy intercamp forced marches, for thousands of young chaps under near-starvation and inclement weather conditions. If this adds up to glorious battlefield achievement, we have trouble seeing the connection.



Within recent years, this writer happened to stumble upon an exhaustive analysis of the December 16-19 fun and games in the Ardennes, published on the internet. It had been prepared in 1950 by an officer from the same battalion, for training of prospective new lieutenants at Fort Benning, Georgia. Although the material compiled was extremely thorough, due to the author’s having been right on-scene, a few small but significant flaws were readily noted, because we had also been there, immersed in the same bitter fracas.



In a noble effort aimed toward correcting innocently-derived misinformation, we wrote to the training material author, long since retired, pointing out where his text had contained certain inaccuracies, based on personal direct observation while under enemy fire.



Fully expecting a “thanks very much for the enlightenment” reply from yonder end, we received instead a harshly worded admonishment, rife with criticism for challenging poured-in-concrete battle records, along with a retroactive “chewing out”, due to our casual admission of having abandoned a severely broken and useless radio. Our correspondent insisted that replacement parts were always on hand and available. In other words, with shells dropping all around and an enemy virtually behind every tree, we’d merely have needed to visit the nearest supply room and get the mechanism fixed pronto.



Over and above the merciless salvo fired across the email waves, our enraged correspondent disdained addressing any of the points with which we had taken issue. Obviously, our attempt to disrupt the long-dead unit’s combat sanctity was totally forbidden.



Perhaps the lesson thus learned should be to avoid trying to be helpful in matters such as this, because history is history is history, officially documented for posterity, and must forever go unchallenged, even to the remotest degree.



We’ve probably committed a cardinal sin as well by stating earlier that our esteemed 106th Division really got its butt kicked in the Ardennes conflict.

HOW ABOUT A TOUCH OF REVENGE?

Watching television for hours at a stretch these days means that the viewer is certain to be driven to distraction by one semi-nauseating commercial message after another. Since they are far too numerous and altogether much too lengthy, relief from them by making bathroom trips doesn’t provide sufficient escape time, unless either one’s bowels or kidneys are working double time.

Consequently, what we’re proposing here is a kind of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach, but in a negative way. The idea might just ease your captive viewing ennui, while tossing a little confusion into what we consider the enemy ranks.

All too many of these agonizing, yea asinine, messages offer either a product or service which will supposedly fix your wagon in countless different respects. Perhaps 5% or so are presented in meaningful good taste, and give no justifiable cause for counterattack effort. It’s that obnoxious, intelligence-insulting majority which deserves nothing less than utter molestation. Unhappily, we have no means for reaching such goal. However, we do have a program to suggest which should at least bring about a little extra peace of mind to John or Jane Q. TV Victim.

When a product or service is involved, the screen normally shows an 800 number to call, where the response will most likely be from a machine, advising you what to punch next, depending on the issue at hand. We therefore urge our readers to strike whichever they choose, then wait a short while before some low-life degenerate comes on the line to give you the canned sales pitch runaround. Since the words you’re about to utter might be recorded, that’s so much the better for “our side”.

We’re attaching a selection of counterpunch statements, some of which have been lifted from age-old radio commercials, along with others from numerous sources, which mostly amount to sheer nonsense. Rather than let the telephone solicitor take control at the outset, why not muddy the waters a bit instead by belting out an opener of your own? As far as we’re concerned, any means for upsetting those creeps even slightly is well worth the effort.

Our looney list follows below. Take your choice or choices according to whim, and use them to strike back just a mite at the nefarious system today’s misguided public is forced to contend with.

Adams Clove Gum, by Jove, buy Clove
Ambrose Stables, we serve oat cuisine
Birdseed Company, everything we make is for the birds
Bugs Bunny’s Hole, what’s up, Doc?
Cannibal Club, everyone’s having a ball
Casablanca Bar and Grill, play it again, Sam
Daily News, black and white and read all over
Elger Plumbing Company, piss on our products
Emery’s Emetics, strong enough to make Wyatt Earp
Exterminator’s Paradise, we have rats and snails and puppy dog tails
Fort Apache, with Shirley Temple as Philadelphia Thursday and Henry Fonda as her father
Grace Dart Hospital, we’re sick sick sick
Hell’s Kitchen, we serve noodle noodle poodle kyoodle noodle soup
Hello, Duffy’s Tavern, where the elite meet to eat, Archie the Manager speakin’, Duffy ain’t here
Ipana for the smile of beauty and Sal Hepatica for the smile of health
Irish Horan speakin’, while daredevil buddy Joe Paskunyac goes through the loop-de-loops
Juliet’s Jams and Jellies, if you want to propose a toast
Jumpin’ Jive, makes you nine feet tall when you’re four foot five
Kelly’s Pool Hall, with the best tunes of all, not Carnegie Hall
Light Brigade Headquarters, send three and fourpence, we’re going to a dance
Little Big Horn Battlefield, General Custer’s too busy to come to the phone
Little Girl Supply Company, sugar and spice and everything nice
McDonald’s Hamburgers, spreading American non-culture throughout the world
Monopoly Board, go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars
Never-Never-Never Land, first turn to the right and straight on until morning
Oscar Mayer Wieners, we’re full of baloney
Parker’s Bakery, like the Sun, we rise in the yeast
Polly’s Pet Shop, where the pigeons come home to roost
Powerhouse Candy, always keep it handy, because it’s dandy
Quaker Meeting, no more laughing, no more fun
Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers, say it fast three times
Sam Spade Detective Agency, we seen you when you done it
Sandy Sherman’s, we sell seashells by the seashore
Schmaltz’s Laundry, in at nine dirty, back clean five-thirty
Sealy Mattresses, for the rest of your life
Sweeney’s Soup Salon, peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold
This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlocks
Tigris and Euphrates, we make a Mesopotamia
Tree Residence, Douglas Fir speaking, Jack Pine isn’t here
Twenty-Fifth Century Fox, Buck Rogers speaking
U.S. Government, which corrupt person do you wish to speak with?
Ulster House, we breathe Londonderry air
Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Christopher Darden speaking
Vinny’s Vineyards, our vin will give you vim, vigor, and vitality
Walrus and Carpenter, we serve oysters on the half shell
Wilson’s Butcher Shop, you never sausage meat
Witches’ Cove, double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble
Xanadu where Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decreed
Yule Log Company, we don’t mind getting burned
Zinzinnati Zoo, we haf Zebras from Zambia, Zanzibar, and Zimbabwe

HOW ABOUT A TOUCH OF REVENGE?

Watching television for hours at a stretch these days means that the viewer is certain to be driven to distraction by one semi-nauseating commercial message after another. Since they are far too numerous and altogether much too lengthy, relief from them by making bathroom trips doesn’t provide sufficient escape time, unless either one’s bowels or kidneys are working double time.

Consequently, what we’re proposing here is a kind of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach, but in a negative way. The idea might just ease your captive viewing ennui, while tossing a little confusion into what we consider the enemy ranks.

All too many of these agonizing, yea asinine, messages offer either a product or service which will supposedly fix your wagon in countless different respects. Perhaps 5% or so are presented in meaningful good taste, and give no justifiable cause for counterattack effort. It’s that obnoxious, intelligence-insulting majority which deserves nothing less than utter molestation. Unhappily, we have no means for reaching such goal. However, we do have a program to suggest which should at least bring about a little extra peace of mind to John or Jane Q. TV Victim.

When a product or service is involved, the screen normally shows an 800 number to call, where the response will most likely be from a machine, advising you what to punch next, depending on the issue at hand. We therefore urge our readers to strike whichever they choose, then wait a short while before some low-life degenerate comes on the line to give you the canned sales pitch runaround. Since the words you’re about to utter might be recorded, that’s so much the better for “our side”. The people you're dealing with are fittingly describable as Adolf Eichmans of the commercial business. They are merely following orders from their shady superiors.

We’re attaching a selection of counterpunch statements, some of which have been lifted from age-old radio commercials, along with others from numerous sources, which mostly amount to sheer nonsense. Rather than let the telephone solicitor take control at the outset, why not muddy the waters a bit instead by belting out an opener of your own? As far as we’re concerned, any means for upsetting those creeps even slightly is well worth the effort.

Our looney list follows below. Take your choice or choices according to whim, and use them to strike back just a mite at the nefarious system today’s misguided public is forced to contend with.

Adams Clove Gum, by Jove, buy Clove
Ambrose Stables, we serve oat cuisine
Birdseed Company, everything we make is for the birds
Bugs Bunny’s Hole, what’s up, Doc?
Cannibal Club, everyone’s having a ball
Casablanca Bar and Grill, play it again, Sam
Daily News, black and white and read all over
Elger Plumbing Company, piss on our products
Emery’s Emetics, strong enough to make Wyatt Earp
Exterminator’s Paradise, we have rats and snails and puppy dog tails
Fort Apache, with Shirley Temple as Philadelphia Thursday and Henry Fonda as her father
Grace Dart Hospital, we’re sick sick sick
Hell’s Kitchen, we serve noodle noodle poodle kyoodle noodle soup
Hello, Duffy’s Tavern, where the elite meet to eat, Archie the Manager speakin’, Duffy ain’t here
Ipana for the smile of beauty and Sal Hepatica for the smile of health
Irish Horan speakin’, while daredevil buddy Joe Paskunyac goes through the loop-de-loops
Juliet’s Jams and Jellies, if you want to propose a toast
Jumpin’ Jive, makes you nine feet tall when you’re four foot five
Kelly’s Pool Hall, with the best tunes of all, not Carnegie Hall
Light Brigade Headquarters, send three and fourpence, we’re going to a dance
Little Big Horn Battlefield, General Custer’s too busy to come to the phone
Little Girl Supply Company, sugar and spice and everything nice
McDonald’s Hamburgers, spreading American non-culture throughout the world
Monopoly Board, go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars
Never-Never-Never Land, first turn to the right and straight on until morning
Oscar Mayer Wieners, we’re full of baloney
Parker’s Bakery, like the Sun, we rise in the yeast
Polly’s Pet Shop, where the pigeons come home to roost
Powerhouse Candy, always keep it handy, because it’s dandy
Quaker Meeting, no more laughing, no more fun
Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers, say it fast three times
Sam Spade Detective Agency, we seen you when you done it
Sandy Sherman’s, we sell seashells by the seashore
Schmaltz’s Laundry, in at nine dirty, back clean five-thirty
Sealy Mattresses, for the rest of your life
Sweeney’s Soup Salon, peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold
This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlocks
Tigris and Euphrates, we make a Mesopotamia
Tree Residence, Douglas Fir speaking, Jack Pine isn’t here
Twenty-Fifth Century Fox, Buck Rogers speaking
U.S. Government, which corrupt person do you wish to speak with?
Ulster House, we breathe Londonderry air
Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Christopher Darden speaking
Vinny’s Vineyards, our vin will give you vim, vigor, and vitality
Walrus and Carpenter, we serve oysters on the half shell
Wilson’s Butcher Shop, you never sausage meat
Witches’ Cove, double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble
Xanadu where Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decreed
Yule Log Company, we don’t mind getting burned
Zinzinnati Zoo, we haf Zebras from Zambia, Zanzibar, and Zimbabwe

GREAT AND NOT-SO-GREAT AMERICANS: TWO ONGOING UPDATABLE LISTS

One evening quite a few years ago, this fellow attended a huge party at the home of a contemporary business colleague. The house was quite expansive, featuring a large entertainment room, along with a back yard vast enough to absorb any overflow.

It so happened that the hostess and the writer were cut from the same cloth politically-orientationwise, that is slightly to the left of John Kennedy and somewhat to the right of Fidel Castro. At that particular time, the Nixon-Kissinger duo was staging a senseless and futile war against the North Vietnamese, not unlike the Bush-Cheney Middle East shenanigans which followed decades thereafter.

For reasons we can’t specifically recall, a brief chit-chat with the sympathetically-minded hostess suddenly caused us to begin playing a sort of private game, which we agreed to dub “Great Americans”, but strictly in a derisive mode. For the next two or three hours, she and I, even though often a fair distance apart physically, kept taking turns shouting out names in our most insulting fashion. Every person so identified by either of us would be some right-wing conservative type for whom we both felt nothing but contempt. A number of the other guests listened in wonderment as to what we were up to. Nevertheless, we simply carried on with our loud pronouncements, not bothering to offer any explanations.

That personally memorable session so many years ago eventually inspired this writer to sit down and compile a list of 35 names viewed as representing our selection of history’s worst Americans. Correspondingly then, we decided that a contrasting roster of our chosen 35 greatest should be in order.

The end result of this exercise is presented below, by appropriate contributory classification. We feel that every entry stands on its own as being self-explanatory. Both listings have been subject to periodic revision as national and world conditions have dictated, and we reserve the right to update further, whenever so motivated. The numerical quantities will remain intact, however, in which case any added names must be by substitution only.

At the present date, our good guy and villain selections appear below alphabetically.

THE 35 GREATEST
Carl Bernstein, Muckraking
Art Buchwald, Philosophy
Cassius Marcellus Clay aka Muhammad Ali, Sports; Human Rights
Samuel Langhorne Clemens aka Mark Twain, Philosophy
Walt Disney, Entertainment
Thomas Alva Edison, Invention
Benjamin Franklin, Founding
Erle Stanley Gardner, Justice
Jim Garrison, Justice
George Gershwin, Music
Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., Justice
John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Politics
Robert Francis Kennedy, Politics
Martin Luther King, Human Rights
Kenesaw Mountain Landis, Sports
Abraham Lincoln, Politics
Henry R. Luce, Communication
John Marshall, Justice
Bill Mauldin, Front Line Combat Reporting
Ralph Nader, Muckraking
Barack Obama, Politics
Ernest Taylor Pyle, Front Line Combat Reporting
Branch Rickey, Sports
Norman Rockwell, Art
Will Rogers, Philosophy
Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Politics
Theodore Roosevelt, Environment
Jonas Salk, Medicine
Upton Sinclair, Muckraking
Oliver Stone, Entertainment
Robert Alfonso Taft, Politics
Ted Turner, Communication
Myron Wallace, Muckraking
Robert Woodward, Muckraking
Larry Zeigner aka Larry King, Communication

THE 35 WORST
Spiro Agnew, Politics
Jonathon Bilbo, Racism
George Bush, Politics
George W. Bush, Politics
William Calley, Military
Calvin Coolidge, Politics
Thomas E. Dewey, Politics
David Duke, Racism
Allen Dulles, Espionage
Henry Ford, Business
Daryle Gates, Law Enforcement
Barry Goldwater, Politics
David W. Griffith, Entertainment
Warren Gamaleil Harding, PoliticsWilliam Randolph Hearst, Journalism
Herbert Hoover, Politics
John Edgar Hoover, Law Enforcement
Robert Maynard Hutchins, Education
Henry Kissinger, Politics
Curtis Lemay, Military
Rush Limbaugh, Communications
Henry Cabot Lodge I, Politics
Joseph Raymond McCarthy, Politics
Colonel Robert McCormick, Journalism
Richard Milhaus Nixon, Politics
Ronald Wilson Reagan, Politics
John Davidson Rockefeller, Business
George Lincoln Rockwell, Racism
Donald Rumsfeld, Politics
Louis B. Seltzer, Journalism
Eugene Tallmadge, Racism
Herman Tallmadge, Racism
George Wallace, Racism
Robert E. Welsch, Reactionism
Sonny Werblin, Sports

SOULMATES

Although the nature of this piece seems to be seldom discussed between friends and associates, it’s likely that many individuals have their own private role models. For example, not too long ago we listened to a certain business colleague glowingly declare his personal allegiance to General George S. Patton of World War II fame, identifying the man as the one most admired and emulated by him.

Ironically, we’re unable to recall off-hand any additional conversations of this sort ever, yet we do embrace belief that such vicarious coexistences are really somewhat universal, and will now seize the opportunity to reveal our own deeper convictions on the matter. In our case, there happen to be five persons, all men, from varying walks of life, with whom we find virtual identity. We prefer, however, to classify them as soulmates, because what we sense are spiritual kinships, not outright hero-worship.

So that we might emphasize our relative equality of favoritism toward each gentleman and his reasons for inclusion here, our presentation follows in alphabetical sequence by surname.

BILL COSBY
This fellow possesses a pure and nonchalant down-to-earthness, prominently exhibited in everything we’ve ever heard him say, seen him do, or enjoyed listening to him recount his highly amusing personal life experiences, be they authentic or semi-fabricated. From a straight personability standpoint, he’s simply my kind of guy.

RICHARD HALLIBURTON
In younger days we were enthralled many times over by this man’s adventurousness and daring deeds, subsequently described most vividly in his books. Although we never personally came close to attaining heights comparable to his, we did our best to emulate him, through extensive world travel and meeting of the many foreign land challenges that arose.

JOHN FITZGERALD KENNEDY
JFK wasn’t just our 35th President. For his consistently youthful exuberance and driving spirit toward true democratic ideals, he represented, in our eyes, the living individual personalization of the United States itself, and what the country is really supposed to stand for.

FRANK SINATRA
To us, Frank was far more than one of the greatest overall entertainers the modern world has seen. The moralistic-minded and do-gooder types may frown on his allegedly sinful ways, but we can’t overlook the open gutsiness in speaking his mind honestly, while exhibiting a sense of independence which influenced the manner whereby he steadfastly refused to take guff from anybody anywhere.

HENRY DAVID THOREAU
This man stood prominently as a 19th century lifelong devotee to personal disobedience, in line with the dictates of his conscience, against the perennial “establishment”. Unfortunately, we have grossly inadequate space here in which to describe his outlook on life qualities to a sufficient degree. We’re obliged instead to settle for a brief but sincere tribute to one of our country’s finer, albeit less than fully-appreciated thinkers.

WIND-UP
Any of our readers is accordingly invited to declare similar pseudo-kinships which may exist with other persons, living or otherwise.

TINSELTOWN'S ANNUAL TURMOIL

At Hollywood’s very first academy award presentation affair in 1929, Janet Gaynor was accorded best actress honors for the past two-year period. With radio only an infant back then, and television no more than a gleam in David Sarnoff’s eye, the surrounding publicity could have been minimal at the most. We’ve also learned that Miss G went straight home and to bed following the ungala ceremony, because she had to be on another film set early in the morning.

In absolute contrast today, this whole Oscar business begins around January each year, as a covert buzz-buzz over who the nominees and winners might be. The hubbub then steadily grows and the suspense mounts considerably until that climactic early spring evening when Hollywood’s answer to the Super Bowl takes place in regal splendor, with far more pizzazz and hoopla than we feel is deserved.

Please don’t misunderstand, Folks. This fellow actually likes good movies, and thoroughly appreciates superb acting performances. We can’t help having reservations, though, about the overblown importance of the final winner names read from the heretofore closely-guarded secret envelopes, followed by gasps and shrieks, not to mention some “oh, nuts” shrugs.

Although we never fail to watch the annual spectacle, to us it’s just a show, not a nail-biter while waiting to see who has won out, category-by-category. Furthermore, our interest focuses solely upon the actors, actresses, and directors. We couldn’t care less about the color cinematography, the sound level monitoring, the dialogue editing, or whatever else the industry chooses to honor.
As for those select groups that capture our attention, we don’t really cheer over which persons end up emoting to the audience, but rather all five nominees in each case. We deem each one a winner, simply for the worthiness consideration bestowed by his or her peers.

According to what we once heard, actor Jack Oakie burst into tears at the ceremony, upon learning that someone else had been awarded the male supporting role Oscar for 1940, thus purportedly exceeding his performance in The Great Dictator. Why a grown man should become so unduly unglued over a lousy mantelpiece token lies beyond our comprehension, when simple nomination constitutes an honor unto itself in our book.

With such reasoning in mind, for some years we’ve been maintaining a private record, subject to annual update, of course, showing each actor, actress, and director nominee’s name. Who won? The hell with that. Our files don’t even mention which persons took the little bronze gizmos home with them.

We’re quite aware, though, that petty politics, personal rivalries, and fabricated prejudices often play a part in the yearly nominating and voting process, with deserving parties occasionally being overlooked. There has long seemed to be strong collective feeling against Barbra Streisand, for whatever small-minded reasoning might apply. Madonna failed to earn the slightest recognition for her memorable Evita role. Perhaps the moralist viewpoint held sway there, since she’s not exactly a candidate for casting as the Virgin Mary. We’ve never managed, however, to fathom why Debbie Reynolds was completely shunned, despite her performance in Mother.

One of Bette Davis’ many nominations was for her obnoxious characterization in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? We’ve read that if co-star and sworn enemy Joan Crawford had had her way, Miss Eyes would have received nary a mention, actually launching a hate campaign against her. It’s also unlikely that inimical sisters Joan Fontaine and Olivia de Havilland would ever have supported or voted for each other.

Anyway, the dirty end notwithstanding, we hold to the opinion that the film industry’s worthiest actors, actresses, and directors are best determinable by the relative number of nominations received over the years.

Unfortunately, such simplified methodology disqualifies the Gables, the Stewarts, the Bogarts, and a wide array of competent actresses. Still, that’s how the mop happens to flop.

In case any reader isn’t so aware from other available sources, our private list by chosen category appears below, the sole criterion being five or more yearly nominations.

ACTORS
Jack Nicholson (12)
Laurence Olivier (10)
Paul Newman, Spencer Tracy (9)
Marlon Brando, Jack Lemmon, Peter O’Toole, Al Pacino (8)
Richard Burton, Dustin Hoffman (7)
Michael Caine, Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, Paul Muni (6)

ACTRESSES
Meryl Streep (15)
Katharine Hepburn (12)
Bette Davis (11)
Geraldine Page (8)
Ingrid Bergman, Jane Fonda, Greer Garson (7)
Ellen Burstyn, Judy Dench, Deborah Kerr, Jessica Lange, Vanessa Redgrave, Thelma Ritter,
Norma Shearer, Maggie Smith, Sissy Spacek, Kate Winslett (6)

DIRECTORS
William Wyler (12)
Billy Wilder (8)
David Lean, Fred Zinneman (7)
Woody Allen, Clarence Brown, Frank Capra, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg (6)
Robert Altman, George Cukor, John Ford, Alfred Hitchcock, John Huston, Elia Kazan, George
Stevens, King Vidor (5)

Despite our unalterable rules, we must apologize for any reader’s favorites who’ve been left off.

OUR PERSONAL QUEST FOR A SIMPLER, FAIRER, AND MORE SETTLED WORLD

It seems true to this writer that every person’s across-the-board well-being might be vastly improved upon if only certain fundamental changes could be enacted – some seemingly rather complex, but most of them simple, at least in principle, and not really all that impractical. We feel they would bring about tremendous improvement to mankind’s ultimate benefit and peace of mind.

Wouldn’t it be nice if:
· Israel would cease to be a political entity and become only a religious haven?
· Congressional lobbying were completely outlawed?
· Religion were practiced by everyone on a seven-day per week basis, instead of just one?
· Corruption would be declared a crime punishable by death or life imprisonment?
· The people of Northern Ireland would decide to agree on what constitutes Christianity?
· TV commercials were outlawed?
· News broadcasts were limited to simple reporting only, totally devoid of analytical comment?
· All Republicans would shut up?
· The reformer-for-better-health types would attack candy, gum, and soft drink consumption, as well as that of cigarettes?
· Passenger automobiles would be made to disappear completely, restricting street and highway traffic to trucks and buses?
· Being obese would be deemed a crime punishable by fine or imprisonment?
. Every smoker could acquire a strong enough will to kick the habit?

PANSY AND BUTCH: A BOOK OF REVELATIONS UNTO THEMSELVES

Just recently we composed a theme devoted to the somewhat unsavory matter of suicide, based on Wikipedia’s long long long personal self-destruction listings. In slight contrast to the hackneyed expression about life being full of surprises, we quickly learned that so is death, considering how many famous names were thus identified without our previous awareness.

Being ever intrigued with new vistas to analyze, we then followed up by taking a look at Wikipedia’s even more extensive roster of confirmed gay gentlemen and lesbian ladies. To say we were astounded at times is one of those gross understatements for the ages – not only in respect to the huge unexpected quantity, but seeing many more specific individuals so categorized than we had remotely imagined.

According to Wikipedia, everyone shown as being on the gay or lesbian side is not exclusively oriented in that direction. The list actually includes any number of “both ways” venturers. On the other hand, those persons about whom mere rumor or innuendo has been put forward are expressly excluded. This rules out J. Edgar Hoover and his regular housemate Clyde Tolson, not to mention long term cohabitants Cary Grant and Randolph Scott, among others similarly suspected through sheer presumption.

Aside from the frequent “oh my gosh” and similar statements we uttered upon reviewing the roster, we couldn’t help but note the relative counts by field of occupational endeavor. The entertainment industry has amazingly produced the largest number of characters who’ve strayed across the supposed morality line, as either a full- or part-time practice. Whatever whys and wherefores brought about such conditions must remain a matter for our readers to resolve in their own minds. We’re not concerned here with conjectural reasoning, only cold numerical facts.

Our mini-list of nearly 150 readily recognizable people is headed by the actor/actress group, standing head, shoulders, torso, and waistline above all the rest. Even though the transgressive activities of Rock Hudson, Charles Laughton, Marlene Dietrich, Jodie Foster, Farley Granger, Rosie O’Donnell, Ellen DeGeneres, Tommy Kirk, Tallulah Bankhead, and a few others have been common knowledge for quite a while, we didn’t expect to find such roughshod, staunchly masculinish lads like Marlon Brando, Raymond (Perry Mason himself) Burr, Alec Guinness, and Laurence Olivier included. The same comment goes for the distaff side, with such names as Joan Crawford and Greta Garbo, whose straightline bedroom affairs were a matter of public record, along with Kay Francis and the demure, matronly Spring Byington.

Moreover, what about male figures Dirk Bogard, Richard Chamberlain (TV’s Dr. Kildare), the strikingly handsome Montgomery Clift, the venerable John Gielgud, and Ramon Navarro of the first Ben Hur chariot race fame? Then there’s Robert Reed, the home-loving husband in the still-running Brady Bunch television series, rugged Latino gangster type Cesar Romero, David Ogden Stiers from M*A*S*H days, plus strong-willed character portrayers Monty Woolley and Clifton Webb.

Richard Deacon, comedy performer from the Dick Van Dyke show, appears on the list. So do the gifted James Dean, as well as Tab Hunter, Sal Mineo, and George Grizzard. We weren’t overly surprised about Paul Lynde, considering his effeminate on-screen mannerisms. Still, Alan Bates, Gene Raymond, and Anton Walbrook always impressed us as evidencing strict manliness.

British performers Denholm Elliott, Michael Redgrave, Dennis Price, John Inman, and the comedic Frankie Howerd’s presence startled us a bit, as did America’s Jack Cassidy, Richard Cromwell, and that lovable codger Will Geer. Nils Asther and Jack Smith round out the male actor array.

We registered some surprise at the inclusion of Nancy Kulp, the highly efficient, sex-starved Plain Jane from the Beverly Hillbillies series, and such more feminine types as Anne Heche, Drew Barrymore, and Angelica Jolie. We never expected Lily Tomlin, a true expert in sarcastic or semi-nut case characterization. The ladies’ roster closes with Alla Nazimova, whose stardom dates back to the 1920s.

Pop singers make up the next major entertainment complement. Elton John’s name wasn’t unexpected, nor were those of David Bowie and the sobbing vocalist Johnny Ray. However, Johnny Mathis’ presence gave us a jolt, especially due to his earlier outstanding track and field skills while attending San Francisco State.

Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith, marvelous blues singers from the 1920s era, form part of the Butch crew. We already knew about k.d. lang, but Carmen McRae, Janis Joplin, Lesley Gore, Carly Simon, Joan Baez, and Dusty Springfield weren’t fully anticipated. Neither was the highly respected Ethel Waters or Paris’ entertainment sweetheart for many moons Josephine Baker.

Masterful word manipulator Lorenz Hart starts the composer/lyricist group, followed by Frederic Loewe, Aaron Copland, the inimitable Cole Porter, and Leonard Bernstein. The European continent gives us the His Magnificence Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Gian Carlo Menotti, plus England’s Benjamin Britten. There are three more men, namely Percy Grainger, Stephen Sondheim, and Michael Tilson Thomas, but no ladies in this sub-category.

The musician field gives us the coyly smiling, ring-adorned Liberace, whom we knew about all along, but not necessarily so for classical pianists Vladimir Horowitz and Van Cliburn. Jazz vibraphonist Gary Burton and Duke Ellington’s unmatchable arranger and keyboard artist Billy Strayhorn complete this portion of the list.

We finish off the entertainer crew with film directors George Cukor and Franco Zeffirelli, and two of the world’s most artful dancers, Rudolf Nureyev and the fabulous Isadora Duncan.

Next in line for numerical prominence come an impressive list of authors, dramatists, and poets, beginning with Truman Capote, whose mannerisms have always been a dead giveaway. His fellow literary gays include luminaries Oscar Wilde, Noel Coward, Thornton Wilder, and Tennessee Williams, not to mention Frenchmen Jean Genet, Jean Cocteau, Marcel Proust, and Cyrano de Bergerac, Ireland’s Brendan Behan, and Englishman Hugh Walpole, along with Americans Gore Vidal, William Inge, Edward Albee, James Baldwin, John Cheever, and Horatio Alger.

Writers focusing on more specialized matters include sex habits researcher Alfred Kinsey, world traveler and daredevil adventurer Richard Halliburton (one of our personal heroes for that), and British gay icon Quentin Crisp.

On the lesbian side of literary achievement we find Daphne du Maurier, who wrote Rebecca and Jamaica Inn, both subject pieces for Hitchcock movies, then the intriguing Gertrude Stein, Willa Cather, playwright Virginia Woolf (whose suicide method bordered on the fantastic, if anyone cares to look up the facts), Françoise Sagan, and smut writer Xaviera Hollander.

We can’t overlook the poets’ corner, whose homosexual makeup includes England’s romanticist Lord Byron, patriotism’s strong advocate Rupert Brooke, and A.E. Housman, with Americans Walt Whitman and Ralph Waldo Emerson from the 19th century, followed by W.H. Auden, Hart Crane, and Allen Ginsberg from the 20th. The sole lesbian representative in this class is Katherine Lee Bates, lyricist of America the Beautiful.

What remains is a potpourri from various fields of endeavor, headed by artists Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo from the middle ages, and our modern Andy Warhol. Five athletes appear, chiefly male tennis star Bill Tilden and female court performers Helen Jacobs, Billie Jean King, and Martina Navratilova. Despite the requisite ruggedness for pro football action, David Kopay reigns as the sole representative from said sport.

We’ll finish off with a miscellany consisting of:
Fashion designers Christian Dior and Yves St. Laurent
U.S. Congressman Barney Frank
Former Rhodesian Prime Minister Iain Smith
Grossly unloved Senator Joe McCarthy’s legal sidekick Roy Cohn
Worldly renowned economist John Maynard Keynes
Alexander the Great
British Monarch Edward II, immortalized in Christopher Marlowe’s play
Ancient Roman Emperor Hadrian
France’s Marquis de Sade
American social reformer Jane Addams
Columnist Joseph Alsop
Lyndon Johnson’s deposed staffer Walter Jenkins
Beatles’ business manager Brian Epstein
Ex-Congressman Newt Gingrich’s daughter Candace
Serial murderer Jeffrey Dahmer
Chances are we may never fully recover from the numerous surprises experienced while perusing the Wikipedia list from end to end. Our biggest relief, however, stems from the fact that the names Errol Flynn and Frank Sinatra aren’t included. Had either one been the case, we’d most likely have done a series of frustration-motivated back flips and wound up in a completely knocked out condition.

A BRIEF EXERCISE IN MORBID CURIOSITY

Since our modern-day omnipresent, omniscient, and perhaps even omnipotent internet contains a lot or at least a little about everything and everybody, a casual browser is apt to stumble onto virtually any subject at times.

A somewhat significant aspect of life and its ultimate close which we happened to come across one rainy afternoon was suicide. Whereas the free Wikipedia library displayed a lengthy list of confirmed, suspected, and even forced by circumstance demises wrought via said route, our curiosity became sufficiently piqued to scroll through the alphabetized presentation. There were more than a few eyebrow-raising surprises.

Although an objective observer is often further tempted to probe the reasons why certain given individuals would choose such means for leaving our known universe, we consider this a far too depressing effort. Consequently, we chose not to click on any of the more famous names in order to seek added background. A person’s self-inflicted departure motivation should stand as his or her private business, even though we might dispute this course of action in principle.

The grim list includes a number of cases which prominently occupy the public domain, thanks to history and Shakespearean drama. Almost everyone with a modicum of education today knows about the suicidal means employed by Marcus Brutus, then later by his antagonist Marc Antony, and the second-named’s wife Cleopatra, who intentionally thrust her hand into a basket containing an asp (according to Liz Taylor’s portrayal, at least). Other renowned world figures Emperor Nero and military master Hannibal appear on the did-it-themselves roster, as does Socrates, the great philosopher, who (we presume) downed a mug of poison hemlock under forceful duress.

When Nazi Germany’s downfall had become apparent to all, master race ruler Adolf Hitler, his recent blushing bride Eva Braun, and Reichsmarshals Herman Göring and Heinrich Himmler followed selective suicidal routes in apparent despair over failed missions. Joining them were the despicable Josef Goebbels and his wife, who “graciously” took their several children along. With whatever human respect might be due, a collective “good riddance” comment should apply herein, except for the unduly martyred offspring.

Moving onward to other well-remembered members of the lost flock, we turn to the movie industry. Although many in our midst tend to view the tinseltown realm as one offering optimum fame and fortune rewards to a lucky population handful, manifold reasons evidently convinced certain bright-lighted or upcoming stars to the contrary. Well-established actors Charles Boyer, George Sanders, Walter Slezak, Gig Young, and Everett Sloan self-succumbed to depressing elements, along with Brian Keith, Scotty Beckett (from the Our Gang kids), Albert Salmi, Ross Alexander, actor-director Richard Quine, and director Woody Van Dyke. The same fate befell actresses Carole Landis, Rachel Roberts, Inger Stevens, Gia Scala, Jean Seberg, Lupe Velez, Thelma Todd, and John Barrymore’s daughter Diana.

Several prominent television performers followed suit, chiefly Britain’s top comedian Tony Hancock, Rusty Hamer from the Danny Thomas family show, and George Reeves, the first actor to play Superman (not to be confused to Christopher Reeve, who starred as the immigrant from the planet Krypton in the movie series). Others from said field were show host Dave Garroway and newscaster Don Hollenbeck.

Aside from Hancock, the comedy world similarly lost Doodles Weaver, whose vocal rendition of Fietelbaum once scored a cornball music hit with the Spike Jones City Slickers ensemble. Another such casualty was Paul McCullough, now an all-but-forgotten fur-coated member of a zany vaudeville and film short team with Bobby Clark.

We also noted the names of early jazz era bandleader Ben Pollack and latter-day saxophonist Albert Ayler, both widely known in the popular music world.

Dramatic and fiction writing gentry who left of their own accord were the revered Ernest Hemingway, plus other authors Hart Crane and William Inge, poet Vachel Lindsay, and playwright Virginia Woolf (whose reference in a subsequent Broadway hit rendered her even more famous than ever).

The world of sport is further represented by boxers Freddie Mills and Randy Turpin, one-time light heavy- and middleweight world champions respectively, ace Dodger relief pitcher Hugh Casey, and Cincinnati Reds’ reserve catcher Willard Herschberger. All-pro football offensive tackle Jim Tyrer shot his wife to death, then turned the weapon on himself.

Holding high or otherwise significant governmental positions didn’t deter a number of men from self-victimization. Brazilian President Getulio Vargas, U.S. Senators from California and Wisconsin respectively William Knowland and Robert LaFollette Jr., U.S. Defense Secretary James Forrestal, Clinton White House staffer Vincent Foster, and major British politico-military figure in Indian colonialism Robert Clive.

Although the rest of the list is quite lengthy in its entirety, the better known remaining individuals include modern psychiatry’s patron saint Sigmund Freud, roll film inventor George Eastman, World War I German flying ace and later daring aerial stunt performer Ernst Udet, and Al Capone’s top level henchman Frank Nitti.

Rather surprisingly, two of Bing Crosby’s four sons, Dennis and Lindsay, took their own lives voluntarily.

Another suicide affair, comparable to that foisted upon Socrates as mentioned earlier, found Germany’s World War II Field Marshal Erwin Rommel being forced to meet his fate by taking poison, under charges of conspiracy against the Fuhrer.

What’s that? Why haven’t we mentioned the self-hanging act carried out by Judas Iscariot, following his betrayal of Christ? It so happens that his suicide has never been “officially” confirmed, due to text conflicts noted in the Holy Scriptures. Similar uncertainties surround the demises of film goddess Marilyn Monroe, long-term war criminal/political prisoner Rudolf Hess, movie hero Alan Ladd, renowned 18th century U.S. territorial explorer Meriwether Lewis, adventure novelist Jack London, Russian composer Peter Ilyich Thaikovsky, Czech statesman Jan Masaryk, American political activist and demonstrator Abbie Hoffman, and actresses Romy Schneider and Pier Angeli. For rather obvious reasons, the pertinent facts don’t always happen to be that fully clear.

We close with an abject apology for delving into what really amounts to a gruesome topic. Nevertheless, when one’s curiosity is aroused by numerous surprises appearing among this unfortunate band of defeatists, the temptation to offer some appropriate commentary defies resistance.

OUT OF SIGHT BUT NOT OUT OF MIND

As an avid collector of jazz music from bygone days, this fellow has compiled a fairly massive CD library. Included among the performing greats are many of the leading female singers from past eras.

Listening to such ladies warble at their best offers no end of pleasure on long afternoons. Unfortunately, though, certain of their favored numbers also appear today as video productions on Youtube and elsewhere. Here is where our satisfaction level often takes a nose dive upon seeing some of them in their upper bracket years. We actually find it preferable, when watching a few of our chanteuse heroines in the much too much flesh, to click “minimize”, so as to hear well while seeing no evil.

Whereas one may recall such lasses as Sarah Vaughan, Rosemary Clooney, Keely Smith, Carmen McRae, et al nicely tailored and in slim, trim form not that many years back, the latter-day filmed output often reveals the degree to which French fries and pasta have added enough extra poundage to envision them instead for potential linebacker duty with the Dallas Cowboys.

The presence of gray or red-tinted hair replacing the once well-coiffeured jet black or cool blonde locks doesn’t upset us. Nancy Wilson, Lena Horne, and Maxine Sullivan, for example, at least retained their relatively graceful figures at advanced ages. We can readily excuse Ella Fitzgerald, who nearly always carried a bit too much bulk, but dressed appropriately nevertheless, in contrast to the elder Vaughans and Clooneys, attempting vainly to disguise obesity with what resembled maternity clothing.

No matter the age, virtually any lady in possession of inspiring vocal qualities ought to be entitled to carry on her trade without regard to accumulated years. However, our humble request to those who offer videotaped elderly and overly padded female singers is that they be presented in audio form only. Our esthetic goal is to savor the marvelous tones, without having to observe the extent to which relative obesity took hold.