I’ve been dipping into the NYC Historical Vital Records Project in search of old relations.
Can anyone tell me how my maternal great-grandfather was employed when my grandmother was born?
The handwriting is, let’s say, expressive. The first letter looks like an S. Three of the four lowercase ss on the certificate (all within words) preserve the loop at the top of the letter but lack the loop at the bottom. Which makes me wonder: could that be a capital L? Is that a quick, blurred version of Laborer? If not that, what?
The death certificate for this great-grandfather lists his occupation as porter in a printing shop. I’ve been unable to find other records with his name. (It’s hit and miss.) I’ll be grateful for any earnest guess about this handwritten word.
[The handwriting on this certificate is so, let’s say, expressive that White (for “Color”) looks like Witr.]
Monday, March 21, 2022
Can you read this handwriting?
Two seasons, ten movies
[One to four stars. Four sentences each. No spoilers. Sources: Criterion Channel, HBO Max, Hulu, TCM, YouTube.]
The Mary Tyler Moore Show (created by James L. Brooks and Allan Burns, seasons six and seven, 1975–1977).
Six: Phyllis has disappeared, gone to San Francisco, and she misses Lars (he’s dead, as you would only know from watching the spinoff Phyllis). Meta: in the season’s second episode, Mary comments on how predictable every element in her life is (including all the newsroom bits), and she packs up and moves to a larger (and weird, and ugly) apartment, where Penny Marshall shows up as a neighbor and John Ritter pops in as a newly ordained minister, performing a wedding in tennis wear. Chuckles the Clown dies at the hands, so to speak, of an elephant, and Robbie Rist (cousin Oliver from The Brady Bunch ) appears as a cute kid. ★★★ (H)
Seven: I think the writers were beginning to run out of good ideas: Johnny Carson (really?) shows up (sort of) for a party; Ted and Georgette host a talk show; Mary dates Murray’s father (Lew Ayres!); Lou, Murray, and Ted imagine what it would be like to be married to Mary; Mary dates Lou. There’s even an episode full of entertainment, à la The Dick Van Dyke Show, with Georgette dancing, Ted ventriloquizing, and Mary singing a hilariously prim “One for My Baby.” Sexism in the office seems to worsen, with Lou as the worst offender. The final episode doesn’t make everything right, but it sure makes the tears fall. ★★★ (H)
*
Mary and Rhoda (dir. Barnet Kellman, 2000). Mary (now widowed) and Rhoda (twice divorced) meet in Manhattan after being out of touch for years. Each is an older woman struggling to find a spot in the working world (Mary as a television producer, Rhoda as a photographer); each has a daughter in college in the city (Mary, Rose; Rhoda, Meredith). But the chemistry that made TMTMS a joy is missing, and it’s painful to see Moore’s face so distorted by cosmetic surgery. Worst scene: when Mary’s compassionate report about a young killer and his family airs on a bar’s TV, Mary and Rhoda stand by as the patrons (who don’t know Mary or that she produced the episode) gather round, watch in silence, and applaud — and the bartender tears up. ★★ (YT)
*
The Pretender (dir. W. Lee Wilder, 1947). Albert Dekker plays Kenneth Holden, a not-so-suave financial manager borrowing from the trust of Claire Worthington (Catherine Craig), the woman he’s scheming to marry. When Claire announces her plans to marry another man, Holden arranges with a go-between for a hit man to kill the guy: the killer will know his target by seeing an engagement photo in the paper. When Claire drops her fiancé for Holden, and his picture appears in the paper, it’s trouble, because the go-between has been shot to death, and Holden, with no way to contact the unknown hit man, now fears for his life. Directed by Billy Wilder’s brother, this movie is truly, deeply weird in plotting and execution (no pun intended), partly redeemed by Paul Dessau’s music (which includes a nearly atonal pianist playing in a nightclub) and John Alton’s cinematography. ★★★ (YT)
*
The French Dispatch (dir. Wes Anderson, 2021). An homage to The New Yorker Past, in the form of several stories from The French Dispatch, published in Ennui-sur-Blasé as a magazine supplement to a newspaper, the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun. It’s a highly inventive movie, with all kinds of clever visual effects and an outstanding cast. But it’s all surface, surface after surface, none of it adding up to very much. I expected to love this movie but was enormously disappointed. ★★ (HBO)
*
The Lost Weekend (dir. Billy Wilder, 1945). When I last saw it, in 2016, I wrote a three-sentence review. This time around I thought of looking for Lubitsch touches, and I think I found them: in the initial tracking shot, ending with a bottle hanging on a rope outside an apartment window; in the singer-pianist at Harry and Joe’s (played by Harry Barris, who wrote “I Surrender, Dear,” among other songs); and in the joke about Yom Kippur and St. Patrick’s Day. Ray Milland gives a great performance as Don Birnam, by turns suave and desperate, capable of any deception that will give him the chance to be alone and drink. The other standout is Doris Dowling as Gloria, barfly, escort, and slang specialist. ★★★★ (TCM)
*
When the Clock Strikes (dir. Edward L. Cahn, 1961). A man is about to be executed for a crime he may not have committed. A witness who testified against him (James Brown) and the convicted man’s wife (Merry Anders) are at a nearby lodge, awaiting the execution. But they’re doing more than watching and waiting: they’re trying to figure out how to get hold of $160,000 that the convicted man stashed away — but where? Often inert, but the pace quickens and the movie becomes more interesting toward the end. ★★ (YT)
[In 2022 money, $160,000 = $1,518.212.71.]
*
My Cousin Vinny (dir. Jonathan Lynn, 1992). Vinny Gambini (Joe Pesci), a personal-injury lawyer, travels from Brooklyn to Wazoo City, Alabama, with his girlfriend Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei) to defend two college kids, his cousin (Ralph Macchio) and his cousin’s friend (Mitchell Whitefield), both charged with murder in a case of mistaken identity. Fred Gwynne appears in his last role as a judge who may or may not figure out that Vinny has been telling lies about his legal background. Everything about this movie is funny and wonderful, from the diner menu to Vinny’s courtroom apparel to the search for a quiet place to sleep to Mona Lisa’s turn on the witness stand. My favorite line: “Yeah yeah yeah,” because that’s exactly how we said it in Brooklyn. ★★★★ (HBO)
[Bonus: spot the copy of The Elements of Style (third edition) in the judge’s chambers.]
*
People Will Talk (dir. Joseph l. Mankiewicz, 1951). It’s a strange movie, a cross between serious commentary on current events (McCarthyism) and light romantic comedy, and it’s all about secrets. Dr. Noah Praetorius (Cary Grant) has one: how was he earning a living before teaching at a medical school? Shunderson, just Shunderson (Finlay Currie) has one: why is he — a servant? a friend? — always following Dr. Praetorious around? Deborah, just Deborah (Jeanne Crain) has one: why has she fainted while sitting in on an anatomy class? Secrets left unexplained: how they got the word gynecologist past the censors, and whether Hume Cronyn, the little investigator of the story, is meant to resemble Roy Cohn. ★★★ (CC)
*
Three from Republic Pictures
Strangers in the Night (dir. Anthony Mann, 1944). It’s from Republic Pictures, so it’s low-budget effort, but it’s by Anthony Mann, so let’s give it a try. It’s an ultra-bizarre story, with an old woman, Hilda Blake (Helen Thimig); her paid companion Ivy Miller (Edith Barrett); a modern woman of medicine, Dr. Leslie Ross (Virginia Grey); and a Marine back from war, Johnny Meadows (William Terry). And watching over them all, a portrait of Mrs. Blake’s daughter Rosemary, who inscribed a copy of A Shropshire Lad that found its way to Johnny overseas. I can’t say more without giving away the whole thing, but it’s sure worth fifty-six minutes of your time. ★★★★ (YT)
[A discovery after watching: Philip MacDonald, who wrote the story, was a screenwriter for Rebecca.]
Hoodlum Empire (dir. Joseph Kane, 1952). War veteran Joe Gray (John Russell) and a couple of army pals run a happy little gas station and café, with just one problem: Joe has an unsavory backstory, with a mobster uncle (Luther Adler) and his associates, and they’re now trying to pin their racketeering on Joe. Brian Donlevy, Claire Trevor, Forrest Tucker, and Grant Withers are among the supporting players in this modest but absorbing Republic Pictures effort. Adding interest: the story is told largely in flashbacks from different characters’ perspectives. Yet another movie in which mobster talk and tactics make me think of a defeated former president. ★★★ (YT)
Storm Over Lisbon (dir. George Sherman, 1944). It’s a Republic foray into Casablanca territory, with a white-jacketed nightclub owner, Deresco (Erich von Stroheim), an intelligence-carrying American agent, John (Richard Arlen), and a beautiful dancer, Maritza (Vera Hruba Ralston, who can neither dance nor act well). Republic must have gone all out with this one: the sets are impressively elaborate. But the plot seems like the imaginings of kids: the dancer held prisoner in a nightclub, the agent hiding out in a wine cellar, the dancer and agent escaping by running off the nightclub floor. My favorite moment: everyone suddenly — and I do mean suddenly —materializes in the cellar with Maritza and John: Deresco and associates, police, and the streetsingers who have strolled through scene after scene. ★★ (YT)
Related reading
All OCA movie posts (Pinboard)
Sunday, March 20, 2022
The Entenmann’s life
In The New York Times, Dan Barry writes about the Entenmann‘s life:
For some self-conscious fans, buying an Entenmann’s pastry may call for a little wink-and-nod: The organic bakery was out of its locally sourced herb scones, so we thought it’d be fun to have an Entenmann’s, like the ones our grandmother used to eat out of the box in Massapequa . . .A related post
But Long Island working-class families like mine believed that a box of Entenmann’s conveyed class. It would be on proud display in the kitchen, prominent on the refrigerator or displacing plastic flowers as the table centerpiece.
Charles Entenmann (1929–2022)
Diners
From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click any image for a much larger view.
I think of a line from Ron Padgett’s memoir of the poet Ted Berrigan, after a recounting of cafes and diners in Tulsa and Manhattan: “Every last one of these cafes is now gone.”
Thanks, Brian.
Related posts
Tiny Diner : Two diners from the outtakes : More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives
[I quoted from Ted: A Personal Memoir of Ted Berrigan (Great Barrington, MA: The Figures, 1993).]
Saturday, March 19, 2022
Today’s Saturday Stumper
Today’s Newsday Saturday Stumper is by Lester Ruff — that is, Stan Newman, the puzzle’s editor, offering an easier puzzle. The puzzle would have been Les Ruff for me save for the west-central region, where I was, for some time, 34-A, fifteen letters, “Busted,” before realizing that I had the answer to 36-D, eight letters, “Knockout of an escort” wrong. When I hit the right word, four other answers fell into place and I was done.
Some clue-and-answer pairs of note:
14-D, six letters, “Texas oil center.” This clue feels off now.
17-A, seven letters, “March march VIP.” Cleverly put. But as for the answer, thumbs down.
18-A, seven letters, “Copyright law concept.” And it’s a good thing.
21-D, three letters, “Holder of markers.” The clue makes the answer new, at least for me.
26-A, four letters, “Sticks on your feet.” Pleasantly defamiliarizing.
28-D, five letters, “What bulls wallow in.” Ahh, it’s good to get away from the hogs.
35-D, eight letters, “It’s more than a Strong Breeze.” I like knowing that there’s a Beaufort Scale, even if I don’t know the scale itself.
47-A, three letters, “Vowelless Scrabble play.” Huh.
62-A, seven letters, “How some prefer their shells.” Nice.
63-A, seven letters, “Publisher’s semi-strong selections.” But they’re not what they used to be.
My favorite clue in this puzzle: 24-D, four letters, “User of scanning devices.”
No spoilers; the answers are in the comments.
[Well, one spoiler: here is the Beaufort Scale.]
UCLA is (not really) hiring
My friend Diane Schirf sent me a job listing:
The Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry at UCLA seeks applications for an Assistant Adjunct Professor on a without salary basis. Applicants must understand there will be no compensation for this position.Yes, it’s real. I’ve seen speculation that an insider — perhaps a UCLA researcher — may want to do some teaching and that fair-hiring practices require a job listing. Who knows. But I don’t doubt that UCLA will receive applications from outsiders — wishful thinkers who imagine that this position will afford a chance for future UCLA prospects.
As I thought about this job announcement, I was reminded that academia is indeed something of a cult. Cults, too, expect members to work with little or no compensation.
*
March 20: The job announcement has disappeared. (It’s still easy to find on Twitter.) The Facebook page for the UCLA Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry now has a fogged-up, poorly written apology of sorts:
[Click for a larger apology.]I can only conclude that someone already affiliated with UCLA is the intended candidate. I am imagining a dimly lit lab:
“You got a nice set-up here. A nice little grant. It’d be a shame to see anything happen to it. Now get in that classroom!”
Two more job listings
An extraordinary amount of work for $28,000 a year : “Our students tend to be poorly prepared”
At the MLA
“It was as if we had arrived after the fact — not in the midst of an event, but long after some catastrophe, the story of which we could tell only through fragmentary evidence”: in The Washington Post, Jacob Brogan writes about a visit to the Modern Language Association convention.
An excerpt that brought back memories:
Even in the good years, the convention was a bad place for graduate students searching for work. In a custom now officially discouraged by the association itself, interviews were traditionally conducted in hotel rooms, often with the interviewee sitting awkwardly on the bed as the tenured interviewers perched around them, a flock of judgmental ravens peering down from the eaves.Even worse, perhaps: a hotel-room interview with just one interviewer.
I wrote out the story of my MLA job-seeking in this post: Fluke life.
Friday, March 18, 2022
Cellar music
Vera Lytovchenko, violinist, plays for the dozen or so people in a bomb shelter in Kharkiv, Ukraine: “Ukraine’s ‘Cellar Violinist’ Plays On Amid Heaving Bombing” (Billboard ).
More videos at TikTok.
