Music to wait by

[“Georgia on My Mind” (Hoagy Carmichael–Stuart Gorrell). Mildred Bailey and a sextet directed by Matty Malneck: Nat Natoli, trumpet; John “Bullet” Cordaro, clarinet; Malneck, violin; Roy Bargy, piano; Fritz Ciccone, guitar; Mike Trafficante, tuba. November 24, 1931.]

Son House and Buddy Guy

[While we are waiting.]

I went on a Son House kick yesterday and discovered that an episode of Camera Three with Son House and Buddy Guy is now available at YouTube. The last few minutes, a House and Guy duet, have long been available online. The scant information at the IMDb gives the episode title as “Really the Country Blues,” aired August 17, 1969.

The term “country blues” is an invention of record collectors of course, and the host’s characterization of Guy’s music as “the new country blues” is bizarre. But there’s nothing wrong with the music.

[Really! The Country Blues is the title of a 1962 compilation LP from Origin Jazz Library.]

A Naked City mail chute

[While we are waiting.]

That’s a pretty spiffy mailbox. Detective Arcaro, could you step away so we can get a good look? Please?

[A hotel manager (Charles Tyner), Detective Adam Flint (Paul Burke), Detective Frank Arcaro (Harry Bellaver), and Lieutenant Mike Parker (Horace McMahon). From the Naked City episode “C3H5(NO3)3,” May 10, 1961. Click any image for a larger view.]

Here’s the one good glimpse of the box:

[Flint and mailbox.]

I don’t see the name, but I’m assuming it’s a Cutler Mailing System. Notice the pre-ZIP Delivery Zone label. I spotted one of those in 2013, on a visit to the Tibor de Nagy Gallery. The gallery’s address was 724 Fifth Avenue, in Zone 19. The ZIP Code for that address: 10019. The hotel in this Naked City episode was the Spencer Arms Hotel, 140 West 69th Street. The ZIP Code for that address: 10023. See? The world makes sense: 19, 10019; 23, 10023. Elaine remembers seeing the hotel when was a Juilliard student living on the Upper West Side. In 1986 the building became a co-op.

One more glimpse before parting, with a good view of the chute:

[Flint and Parker with Jack Lubin of the bomb squad (Terry Carter). Carter, by the way, was the first Black actor to appear in the series.]

Looking through the Spencer Arms’ lobby windows in Google Maps’ Street View leads me to believe that the Cutler Mailing System has left the building.

This post is for my friend Diane Schirf, who likes Cutler Mailing Systems.

Related reading
All OCA Naked City posts (Pinboard)

“I will arise and go now”

Donald Trump’s lunatic performance on Twitter this afternoon (“we hereby claim the State of Michigan”) makes me think he might be happiest in a country of his own. Greenland is already taken. Let him retire then to the (tax-free!) Principality of Mar-a-Lago. “I will arise and go now, and go to Mar-a-Lago,” &c. And stay there, as it has no extradition treaty with the United States.

Did I really have this conversation?

Yes, I did, last week at the gas station.

“Just so you know — the card reader at the first pump isn’t working. I tried two cards.”

“How isn’t it working?”

“It doesn’t read the cards.”

[True, the machine could have eaten my card. But in that case, I would have said “The card reader ate my card.” And I wouldn’t have been able to try a second card. The technical term for this sort of stuff: conversational implicature.]

NPR, Son House, and Brünnhilde

NPR, a few minutes ago:

President Trump falsely claimed that he won the 2020 election. That is wrong.

Millions of votes are still being counted, and races in six key states remain too close to call.

Elaine went to sleep at nine-something last night, after one glass of wine. As she said, it wasn’t a drinker-y night. I followed at ten — I thought it was midnight — after two ounces of Scotch. When I woke up and checked my phone for more news, I guessed it was close to morning. It was midnight.

I know what Son House meant when he sang that the minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days.

So that’s one singer. But with Griffy and Zippy, I am waiting for Brünnhilde.

[I did some arithmetic before reading anyone else’s: 227 + 6 + 11 + 10 + 16 = 270. Nevada + Arizona + Wisconsin + Michigan = Biden.]

Today’s Zippy

[Zippy, November 3, 2020.]

Today’s Zippy is titled “Not a Praying Man . . . Until Today.” That pose suggests George Bailey, doesn’t it? “Dear Father in Heaven, I’m not a praying man,” he whispers in Martini’s.

Related reading
All OCA Zippy posts (Pinboard)

“Yes, Nancy”

Today’s Nancy is sweet. “Yes, Nancy” is the perfect touch.

Related reading
All OCA Nancy posts (Pinboard)

Even Dr. Birx has her limit, sort of

From The Washington Post:

A top White House coronavirus adviser sounded alarms Monday about a new and deadly phase in the health crisis, pleading with top administration officials for “much more aggressive action,” even as President Trump continues to assure rallygoers the nation is “rounding the turn” on the pandemic.

“We are entering the most concerning and most deadly phase of this pandemic . . . leading to increasing mortality,” said the Nov. 2 report from Deborah Birx, coordinator of the White House coronavirus task force. “This is not about lockdowns — It hasn’t been about lockdowns since March or April. It’s about an aggressive balanced approach that is not being implemented.”

Birx’s internal report, shared with top White House and agency officials, contradicts Trump on numerous points: While the president holds large campaign events with hundreds of attendees, most without masks, she explicitly warns against them. While the president blames rising cases on more testing, she says testing is “flat or declining” in many areas where cases are rising. And while Trump says the country is “rounding the turn,” Birx notes the country is entering its most dangerous period yet and will see more than 100,000 new cases a day this week.

But then comes this sentence: “Through a spokesperson, Birx did not respond to a request for comment.”

I hope you, too, remember Dr. Birx’s transparently ridiculous praise of Donald Trump* in late March: “He’s been so attentive to the scientific literature and the details and the data.” “Intellectual prostration,” I called it, borrowing a phrase from a historian. If only Birx would be willing to respond now to a request for comment. Silence is complicity. Tomorrow is Election Day.

“Free Letters”

On a recent foggy morning, Brandon Woolf was sitting on a foldable chair, in front of a foldable table, next to a Brooklyn mailbox, writing letters on a 1940s-vintage portable Royal typewriter. He was dressed in a navy blue T-shirt emblazoned with the U.S. Postal Service logo. A chalkboard sign in front of him explained the project to passers-by: “Free Letters for Friends Feeling Blue.”

The New York Times reports on a theater professor’s COVID-era letter-writing service.