Saturday was a relative overload. Not relative to something else, but overloaded with relatives. Brother-, sister-, mother-in-law arrived on Saturday, and we also went to a family reunion with so many extended branches it’s become a total picture of America. Started out with impoverished people from the old country coming over in steerage, becoming slightly less impoverished people who assembled and accrued more and more, until the end result is this vast clan, each of whom has a spouse, children, and a supercomputer in every pocket. I am only tangentially related to any of them - which is to say I’m not, at all, but through marriage I suppose I have my name added to the endlessly forking chart of marriages and children.
It was out in the country - not entirely rural, just sparsely settled. Blacktop to gravel. On the way out, on the highway, I noticed this configuration:
I thought “I should take a picture and post it and ask if anyone knows what this means. Poles so closely placed, odd wires.” When I walked into the house there was a fellow in his late 20s earnestly discussing . . . electrical infrastructure with another guy, so I waited until he was done, asked him if he was in the juice game, then pulled out my phone and asked him to explain this picture. He was intrigued and surmised that the power was being drawn off for secondary lines. Why four? Maybe they went off in different directions? He couldn’t be sure, but shared my interest. Then we talked about power generation until it became apparent he was more about wind and solar than nuke, and I was pro-nuke, and it ended there. A reminder not to talk religion at these gatherings.
In the evening we went to AnnunciationFest, a big fall event put on by the Catholic Church in the neighborhood. Perfect night for it. Used to come here with Wife and Daughter, put her on the rides, pay for a pony trip, eat some Fair food, play some games. This year it was a steak dinner priced so you know you’re performing an act of charity. No rides this year but throngs of kids and tweens running and shrieking and laughing on the last best night of the warm days. Loud band and a beer garden. A Farmer’s Market with grandma detritus:
Knockoffs, not licensed.
The band, by the way, was playing at a tent named after one of the big sponsors, a car dealership. Luther Autos. On the way out I stopped at the steak stand and waved over a guy who’d recognized me as I was waiting for meat - hey it’s James Lileks, the famous columnist! You love that when your brother-in-law is right there - and I said “let us for a moment appreciate a situation where the Catholic Church’s music tent has a big sign that says Luther.” He reared back in delight and gave me a high five. And he was, like, six and a half feet tall so I had to jump.
I left early to give the dog company, and also steak. He’d been alone so much today. On the way back I was reminded of the line about Minneapolis burning down, and how people in this city like to post pictures of Minneapolis looking gorgeous and prosperous, as if to say ha ha never happened. Well no, of course the whole town didn’t burn down. But many blocks did. I was here. I saw people posing for the ‘Gram making peace signs in front of conflagrations. I know buildings, large ones, that were there before and gone after. I still miss the post-war corner liquor store they looted and set alight. So I’m not going to do that.
On the other hand, I think some people would be surprised that this . . .
. . . is right in the city. And it’s just lovely.
More liquor from the Booze-surge of '34:
I wonder if it was mass-produced swill pumped up for a thirsty and indiscriminate market.
I guess everyone in the nation knew where this was:
And probably who she was, or supposed to be. The story behind this one is more interesting than the story on the screen. It’s the story of Fanny Brice, but unauthorized. She sued, and they had to alter the movie - even though everyone knew it was about her, and perhaps more people knew because of the publicity.
In other words, the Striesand Effect, which is really amusing.
I’m interested in the sets, because it’s not intended as history, but had to seem right to people who knew the era - say, 20 years before.
Maybe it isn’t accurate, exactly.
Inside the theater: you can smell it, and it’s not that great. Cigars and unwashed clothes.
Our hero, sort of. The love interest, sort of. The Singing Sheet Music seller. He’s not long for this menial job, though! He’s got talent!
“Classy.” Was that really something vaudeville patrons were interested in?
Alice Faye.
Some special effects of 1939: mattes and composites. I think.
1919 was so long ago! You know just like 2004 seems today. Except it doesn't seem long ago.
Uh -
Okay, first of all, it’s That Guy, again. Charles Lane.
Uh -
Okay, second of all, it’s Fred from I Love Lucy. I don’t know why, but I’m always surprised to see him pop up in an old movie. He seems as if he belongs completely to TV.
Uh -
Well, yes. That’s what he does. Twice.
Really doesn’t put the punch into the ol’ cliche as much as he might, but he still sells everything 110%.
The Monday Boon:
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