Friday, and I’m in a good mood. No reason. Well, two. Three, maybe, if you count the fact that it’s Friday. Well, two, because it’s not Friday yet. In fact it’s late Thursday and I haven’t started the column and I fear the idea will evaporate upon contact, but I’ll face that in a few minutes.
Reason one will be discussed next week, after I do a piece for the paper, and by then my insufferable self-regard over my sleuthing will have died down. Reason two was this:
It was posted on Twitter, and people promptly started getting into knife-fights over the answer. Daughter sent a text from Brazil while I was reading the replies, and I sent it to her, and we argued about it for 20 minutes, I swear. She kept getting hung up on some math procedure she’d been taught, which sounded like one of those New Math Theories that screw up critical thinking.
The way you did it is barbaric, she said. “If we did that in grade school we’d literally be killed on the spot”
Then she sent an easier one.
I replied “Piston is 10, Tire is 5, shock absorber 2”
Her response was so perfect I beamed with pride.
“At least you asserted intellectual dominance by knowing what the objects are called”
That’s my girl.
So I have the drawing and the letter and am waiting for the soundfile, and will finish up the BleatPlus interface and mail out the invites to all contributors this weekend. It’s going to snow a foot. I’m not going anywhere.
And now, Connections, with James Burke! Don't I wish. But we are going to get from the picture on the left to the picture on the right.
Earlier this week we saw this.
I was wondering about the Gotham theater, but you might have said: what of the Pitol Theater?
Capitol Theater, of course.
Cinema Treasures says it wasn't a great success - opened in October 1919, and closed in June 1920. Sold and reopened.
It's a big photo, and like all the great shots of the day, it captures an amazing amount of detail.
Corinthian capitals always fascinated me as a kid - so ornate, so imperial.
A moment of everyday life across the street from the Tiffin:
Pretty sure it's the Tiffin.
National Shirt Shops, United Cigar: 100 years ago, and there were coast-to-coast brands.
Some guys around the corner, loading the car:
Then . . and now.
A trade we might now reconsider.
One more thing: the marquee.
The Sidney Drews: stars of stage and screen. Husband and wife team. By the time the Capitol opened Drew was on his second wife, who appears in the short below - he's twice as old as she is, as you'll see. (He's not the first guy you see,)
Okay, one more thing. From the film.
New York Evening Telegram. The raid on Verona happed on the 14th of November, 1915. Here's the momument that commemorates the event, on the site where it happened.
Remember this feature? We never met Bela Lanan himself. We never will.
Back to the Blue Note Cafe, where the show opens - as usual - with Casey talking to the bartender before the shill butts in.
I swear I hear the timpani player grunt at :14.
Another chaotic cue, never used again.
This is a bit more noir than the show deserved - and I swear it's anticipating the the Johnny Dollar theme.
2019 returns to the bins, and the records dumped back into the world when someone dies and the kids give the contents of Mom and Dad's entertainment system to the Goodwill.
Wikipedia: "With a call from Hollywood to be choral director of The Railroad Hour, a radio weekly starring Gordon MacRae, Luboff began a successful career scoring many television programs and more than eighty motion pictures. He also recorded with artists such as Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Jo Stafford, Frankie Laine and Doris Day."
The Railroad Hour.
But it was the choir stuff that made his name - a pity when this style fell out of favor. Which it did, hard.
I've always resisted it, but I'm starting to like it, just because it's uncool by modern standards - and makes me think of all the disembodied voices that sang on Disney shows and themes.
When was the last time you thought about South African wine?
That'll do. Hope you enjoyed the week, and I'll see you Monday.