Orange kiddo list

[Click for a larger list.]

This list, the work of a six-year-old, joins the list of supplies for an imaginary camping trip that my daughter Rachel made at the age of six or seven, many years ago. Two generations of youthful lists on Orange Crate Art.

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Words of the day: milliner , millinery

Somehow I started thinking about those odd-looking words, milliner , millinery . Were they originally related to textile mills? No.

From the Oxford English Dictionary entry for milliner:

With capital initial. A native or inhabitant of Milan, a city in northern Italy. Obsolete.

The first citation for that meaning is from 1449, in a sentence about every “Venician, Italian, ... and Milener.” And then comes the more familiar meaning:

Originally: a seller of fancy wares, accessories, and articles of (female) apparel, esp. such as were originally made in Milan. Subsequently: spec. a person who designs, makes, or sells women’s hats.

The first citation for that meaning is from 1530, apparently from expense accounts for Henry VIII: “Paied to the Mylloner for certeyne cappes trymmed ... withe botons of golde.”

Millinery came later:

The articles made or sold by milliners. In earlier use frequently attributive .

The first citation is from 1676: “Millinery; disbursements for combs, mittens, gloves, thread, silk.”

And a later meaning:

The trade, business, or craft of a milliner,

with a first citation from Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: With Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects (1792): “In the afternoon, the girls should attend a school, where plain-work, mantua-making, millinery, &c., would be their employment.“

The OED entry for the word ends on a hopeful note, with a citation from The Palm Beach Post (January 15, 2000): “Don’t toss millinery onto the scrap heap of dead-end 21st-century careers just yet.”

Hats on!

Recently updated

Local man hits 100-post limit: And now the 100-post monthly limit is gone.

Arts, shmarts

Earlier today I posted a passage from Nabokov’s Bend Sinister on the role of education in a police state. I didn’t expect this New York Times article (gift link) to appear on the same day: “New Federal Guidelines Threaten Almost Half of Graduate Arts Programs.”

Deathtrap Mongols

[Michael Caine as Sidney Bruhl. Mongol pencils as themselves. From Deathtrap (dir. Sidney Lumet, 1982.) Click for a larger view.]

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All OCA Mongol posts (Pinboard)

“Less books and more commonsense”

In a nameless police state, a grocer explains things to Adam Krug, philosopher:

Vladmir Nabokov, from Bend Sinister (1947).

*

See also this New York Times article (gift link), published today: “New Federal Guidelines Threaten Almost Half of Graduate Arts Programs.”

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All OCA Nabokov posts (Pinboard)

Turn on your hazard lights (again)

[Now that summer is upon us, at least sort of, I’m repeating advice that I shared in 2011 and again in 2023 and 2024 and 2025. Pass it on.]

If you’re driving on a highway and the traffic suddenly slows or stops, and the vehicles behind you are at some distance:

~ Turn on your hazard lights.

~ Leave significant space between you and the vehicle in front of you.

~ Keep checking your rear-view mirror.

~ After someone has come up behind you, turn your hazard lights off.

If someone is coming up behind you and not paying full attention, your hazard lights might catch their eye and prompt them to slow down or stop in time. If not, the free space in front of your vehicle might lessen the severity of a collision.

I called the Illinois State Police to ask what they thought about using hazard lights in this way. A desk sergeant said it was the right thing to do and added the second and third points. I do those things without thinking and wouldn’t have thought to add them. I’ve added the fourth point for clarity.

Drivers of big rigs appear to make a habit of using their hazard lights in this way. Laypeople, not so much. Thus I’m repeating myself.

See also: the white stripe.

A CUB warning

For Illinoisans, a warning from the Citizens Utility Board:

“We urge Illinois consumers to carefully review any alternative electricity supplier offer pitched to them,” CUB Communications Director Jim Chilsen said. “Customers have lost far too much money to alternative suppliers over the last decade. Even in this market, ComEd or Ameren is probably your best bet for electricity supply.”

Our household almost latched on to one of those offers last year. It came in the mail and appeared to have our town’s imprimatur. But when I called city hall to ask some questions, no one knew what I was asking about. So I e-mailed the CUB and avoided what would likely have been an expensive mistake.

[The CUB is hardly a shill for ComEd or Ameren. Its purpose: “to fight for the rights of customers of investor-owned electric, gas and telecom utilities across Illinois.”]

Twelve movies

[One to four stars. Four sentences each. No spoilers. Sources: Amazon Prime, Criterion Channel, Internet Archive, TCM, YouTube.]

I Walk Alone (dir. Byron Haskin, 1947). “Don’t worry about me, Kay — I just got out of prison, not college”: Frankie Madison (Burt Lancaster) just did fourteen years, and he’s come back to Manhattan to get the half-of-everything that his partner in crime Noll Turner (Kirk Douglas) promised him. The problem is that Noll (aka Dink) isn’t okay with that, and Frankie’s pal Dave (Wendell Corey), now Noll’s accountant, is in a tough spot, wanting to do right by Frankie, but in thrall to the boss. And then there’s Kay Lawrence (Lizabeth Scott), a singer and pianist “mentored” by Noll, who feels her loyalties shifting. A solid film noir that becomes surprisingly brutal in its final scenes, and another movie from what seems to be our household’s favorite year in movies. ★★★★ (YT)

*

Lydia (dir. Julien Duvivier, 1941). Merle Oberon stars as Lydia MacMillan, a wealthy woman, founder of an orphanage, never married, reunited in old age (excellent makeup) and in flashbacks with her suitors: a doctor (Joseph Cotten), a football hero (George Reeves), an acclaimed pianist (Hans Jaray), and a seafarer (Alan Marshal). There’s something Stefan Zweig-like about this story — a love story, yes, but ultimately a parable about self-knowledge. But you have to be willing to get past some over-the-top dialogue (by Ben Hecht and Samuel Hoffenstein). To wit: “This love, love that’s part of the hot sun and the salt water, it’s like a feast that leaves you hungrier than a winter wolf.” ★★★★ (CC)

*

Deathtrap (dir. Sidney Lumet, 1982). Well, it was there, on what is now known as Live TV, so we set it to record, watched from the last half hour or so, and went back to the beginning. Clever fun, with one surprise after another. Michael Caine is a playwright with a new flop to his credit; Dyan Cannon, his fragile wife; Christopher Reeve, his promising student; Irene Worth, the psychic next door. If you haven’t watched it for many years, it’s unlikely that you’ll remember all the tricks. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

Good Sam (dir. Leo McCarey, 1948). Gary Cooper and Ann Sheridan star as Sam and Lu Clayton: he, a department-store manager and friend to all in need; she, a put-upon homemaker who finds her husband’s charity to all comers erasing their family’s hope for a better future (spoiler: he’s secretly given away the money they’d been saving toward a house). It’s a poor man’s It’s a Wonderful Life (no pun intended), complete with an ending in which money makes everything okay. Hard to understand how the director responsible for Make Way for Tomorrow (1937) could be responsible for this awkward, unfunny comedy. I’m not surprised to see that it appeared on the The New York Times list (December 26, 1948) of the ten worst movies of the year. ★★ (YT)

*

The Dark Man (dir. Jeffrey Dell, 1951). Molly (Natasha Perry), an actor cycling to work at a provincial theater, hears gunshots and sees a tall man in a dark trenchcoat (Maxwell Reed) in a field — and now her life is in danger. A distinct Hitchcock flavor here, but also some dumb plot points. A greater flaw: a marked absence of characterization and an unconvincing instant romance between Molly and the craggy detective inspector (Edward Underwood) assigned to the case. Adding interest: the manhunt on an artillery range. ★★★ (YT)

*

The Man Who Talked Too Much (dir. Vincent Sherman, 1940). It turned out that we had seen the 1955 remake Illegal, with Edward G. Robinson and Nina Foch. Here George Brent stars as Steven M. Forbes, a prosecutor who goes into private practice (with Virginia Bruce as his secretary Joan Reed) after sending an innocent man to the chair. Forbes’s few clients pay him in apples and cheese, but his showmanship in the courtroom draws the interest of gangsters, and he soon goes over to the dark side, making real money while hiding evidence that would convict a murderer. As his kid brother John L. (William Lundigan) tells him, “You’re not a criminal lawyer, Steve; you’re a lawyer criminal” — and the mob then sets up John L. to take the blame for a murder. ★★★ (TCM)

*

Wait for Your Laugh (dir. Jason Wise, 2017). An affectionate documentary about Rose Marie (1923–2017), a radio and vaudeville star at the age of three, a performer on records and film not long after, a nightclub entertainer in adulthood, an actor who achieved her greatest fame as Sally Rogers on The Dick Van Dyke Show and became a regular on The Hollywood Squares. Here Rose Marie talks at length about her childhood, her brushes with the underworld in Chicago and Las Vegas (Al Capone was “Uncle Al”), her blissful but short-lived marriage, and the frustrations of TDVDS (she thought that the emphasis was always going to be on the writers) and 4 Girls 4 (spoiler: no one liked Helen O’Connell). Saddest line: “Nobody does a good act anymore,” evoking a lost world of showbiz, when an act was a blend of patter, jokes, song, and dance. With commentary from Peter Marshall, Carl Reiner, Dick Van Dyke and others. ★★★★ (A)

[Rose Marie’s early film efforts surface here and there on YouTube, but archive.org has all her early recordings.]

*

Tomorrow Is Forever (dir. Irving Pichel, 1946). Orson Welles and Claudette Colbert star in a story of the sorrows of war: he, John Andrew MacDonald, goes off to fight in the Great War; she, his wife Elizabeth, receives news of his death, discovers that she’s pregnant, and marries Lawrence Hamilton (George Brent), who becomes a happy stepfather. But John wasn’t killed: he was wounded, so badly that he needed facial reconstruction, though there’s also a strong implication that his wound is something like that of Hemingway’s Jake Barnes. When John returns to the States after twenty years as an Austrian scientist with a new name, he cannot bring himself to let Elizabeth know his true identity — or is his earlier self still his true identity? A grim, grim movie: imagine Odysseus coming back and never letting Penelope know who he is. ★★★ (A)

*

A Dispatch from Reuters (William Dieterle, 1940). Yes, there was a Reuter, Julius Reuter (Edward G. Robinson), whose name is here often pronounced “Rooter” for comic effect. Reuter begins with a carrier pigeon service, beating the mail at carrying messages and news reports. And then of course comes the telegraph. Sad to say, it’s a dull movie, whose main moment of drama is the death of a pigeon (electrocuted by a telegraph wire) — at least until Abraham Lincoln is assassinated, and the race to be first with the news is on. ★★ (TCM)

*

Kind Lady (dir. John Sturges, 1951). Mary Herries (Ethel Barrymore) is the kind, wealthy, forthright, art-loving, widowed or never married lady who opens her door to Henry Elcott (Maurice Evans), a struggling (natch) painter. And before long, Henry and his criminal associates (Betsy Blair, Angela Lansbury, and Keenan Wynn) begin to sell off the house’s furniture and paintings while Mary and her maid are locked up in bedrooms. Henry is a monstrous piece of work, cheerfully calling Mary “Aunt Mary” and dominating his wife (Blair), who seems more like a member of a tiny cult than a spouse. But Mary is a tough cookie, and though I don’t know enough to judge whether this movie is Ethel Barrymore’s finest hour, I will nevertheless say that it is. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

Kind Lady (dir. George B. Seitz, 1935). It turned out that we had seen a remake of a movie adapted from a play (by Edward Chodorov) that was itself adapted from a short story (by Hugh Walpole). Here Mary Herries (Aline MacMahon) is a much younger woman who seems susceptible to the charms of the dashing painter Henry Abbott (Basil Rathbone), who’s not nearly as menacing as Maurice Evans’s Henry Elcott. And MacMahon plays a character not nearly as resourceful as Ethel Barrymore’s Mary. Now I wonder which movie was more faithful to its sources. ★★ (IA)

*

Big City (dir. Frank Borzage, 1937). This movie seems at odds with itself: it’s a proletarian drama of independent cab drivers fighting the thugs trying to put them out of business (there’s a bombing, a murder, and a threat of deportation), but there’s also plenty of sexy comedy, a scene in which a cabbie drinks an entire bottle of milk, and a battle royal of cabbies and banquet guests that pulls the movie into absurdity. Spencer Tracy and Luise Rainer star as Joe and Anna Benton, a New York City cab driver and his incredibly chic wife. The most unusual element in this movie: the banquet guests include Jack Dempsey, Jim Jeffries, Jim Thorpe, and other athletic greats (Wikipedia has them all). ★★★ (TCM)

Related reading
All OCA “twelve movies” posts (Pinboard)

Joe Negri (1926–2026)

Joe Negri, master guitarist and pretend handyman, has died at the age of ninety-nine. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette has an obituary.

Here’s Joe Negri playing “Here’s That Rainy Day.”