Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday  Saturday Stumper, by Matthew Sewell, is a tough one. That is, a good one. I got my start in the southwest, where 42-D, five letters, “Part of many racetrack names” and 48-D, four letters, “Merger partner of Mayer” cracked things open. The northeast was a struggle, for reasons that will become apparent.

Some clue-and-answer pairs of note:

2-D, five letters, “One announcing an interjection.” AHEMER doesn’t fit.

4-D, nine letters, “About two dozen nanometers.” I’ll believe it when I see it.

8-D, three letters, “Certain course, for short.” An arbitrary way to clue a bit of crosswordese. My first thought was APP.

10-D, five letters, “Railway pricing adjective.” From the northeast. It’s a word? It’s a word.

15-A, nine letters, “Short podcasts.” From the northeast. I listen to many podcasts, long and short, but I have never heard or read this word.

19-A, seven letters, “Her first film (1981) was director George Cukor’s last.” A slightly startling factoid. Cukor began directing in 1930.

27-A, four letters, “Starter home?” Clever clueing.

33-A, nine letters, “Think too much of.” I was trying to come up with a synonym for hero worship.

35-A, fifteen letters, “Protégé’s request.” I don’t think so. The answer is a venerable bit of speech, but protégé doesn’t fit.

49-A, seven letters, “Unsurprising conclusions of whodunits.” A surprising clue.

My least favorite in this puzzle is from the northeast: 11-D, four letters, “Seattle school, familiarly.” Familiarly for whom? Pretty ridic, I say.

My favorite: 16-D, fourteen letters, “Getaways that go without saying.” I took “without saying” the wrong way, which deepens my admiration for the clueing.

No spoilers; the answers are in the comments.

A Caedmon drawing and anecdote

The New York Times has an obituary for Marianne Mantell, co-founder of Caedmon Records. It prompted me to pull down my copy of The Caedmon Treasury of Modern Poets Reading Their Own Poetry, a 1956 2-LP set that I long ago acquired as a library discard. A carboard insert with the track listing features this whimsical drawing, artist unidentified:

[Click for a larger view.]

I trust that the inspiration is obvious, but if not.

*

From Ron Padgett’s Ted: A Personal Memoir of Ted Berrigan (1993):

We listened to records such as The Caedmon Treasury of Modern Poets. When Stevens read the first line of “The Idea of Order at Key West,” in that slow, stately, grave voice — “She sang beyond the genius of the sea” — Ted’s mouth would form a little O and his eyebrows would rise as he turned to shoot me a look, as if to say, “Get that!” And every time Richard Eberhart, reading “The Groundhog,” came to the dead groundhog and said, in that delicate little voice of his, “I poked him with an angry stick,” we exploded with laughter. “An angry stick! Yikes!”

Cubist pencil

[The American Stationer, May 9, 1914. Click for a larger view.]

“Round, having a novel finish of small squares in assorted colors,” says the advertisement. “Most effective in appearance.” You can see the pencil in color at Brand Name Pencils. It’s a wow.

Related reading
All OCA pencil posts (Pinboard)

Bacharach interpreters

An impromptu list, tilting toward jazz:

Erroll Garner, “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” with Bob Cranshaw, bass; Grady Tate, drums; José Mangual, congas.

Rahsaan Roland Kirk, “I Say a Little Prayer,” with Ron Burton, piano; Vernon Martin, bass; Jimmy Hopps, drums; Joe Texidor, tambourine.

Kirk again, “You’ll Never Get to Heaven (If You Break My Heart),” with Ron Burton; piano; Henry Mattathias Pearson: bass; Robert Shy: drums; Joe Texidor, tambourine.

And if you want songs as songs, with words by Hal David, here’s a medley by Burt Bacharach and Dionne Warwick.

And another, from the Carpenters.

And there’s this song, by Bacharach and Carole Bayer Sager.

“Burt Bacharach, Whose Buoyant Pop Confections Lifted the ’60s, Dies at 94” (The New York Times)

[I wish that the obituary had more to say about the music as music, and perhaps a bit less to say about “a sleek era of airy romance” and the evocation of “an upscale world of jet travel, sports cars and sleek bachelor pads.”]

The midwestern sublime

I’m not thinking of beauty. From the Oxford English Dictionary:

The sublime is an important concept in 18th- and 19th-cent. aesthetics, closely linked to the Romantic movement. It is often (following Burke’s theory of aesthetic categories) contrasted with the beautiful and the picturesque, in the fact that the emotion it evokes in the beholder encompasses an element of terror.

I first thought of the midwestern sublime when driving in the late afternoon, in late fall or early winter. It must have been more thirty years ago. We were driving home on a rural route after a day of shopping in a nearby city. Elaine was reading the liner notes of Yazoo Records’ Skip James LP (a purchase of the day) to entertain me as we drove. And it occurred to me that the sound of James’s voice matched the landscape around us, even if we were in Illinois and not Mississippi.

The midwestern sublime is composed of equal parts vast muddy fields and vast grey skies, as seen from a car on a two-lane rural route. There are telephone poles along one side of the road and houses on the other. The houses are infrequent and unlit, their mailboxes and newspaper boxes waiting — for what? There are no other vehicles on the road. The sky is beginning to darken.

Have I made myself bleak?

[Skip James sang about our state in “Illinois Blues”: “If you go to Banglin’, tell my boys / What a time I‘m having, up in Illinois.” A good time, he says. Banglin’: a Mississippi lumber camp.]

Errand, errant

I wondered: could errand and errant be related? Isn’t a knight errant, roving about, kinda like on an errand sort of, maybe?

Etymonline on errand :

Old English ærende “message, mission; answer, news, tidings,” from Proto-Germanic *airundija- “message, errand” (source also of Old Saxon arundi, Old Norse erendi, Danish ærinde, Swedish ärende, Old Frisian erende, Old High German arunti “message”), which is of uncertain origin. Compare Old English ar “messenger, servant, herald.” Originally of important missions; meaning “short, simple journey and task” is attested by 1640s. Related: Errands. In Old English, ærendgast was “angel,” ærendraca was “ambassador.”

And on errant :

mid-14c., “traveling, roving,” from Anglo-French erraunt, from two Old French words that were confused even before they reached English: 1. Old French errant, present participle of errer “to travel or wander,” from Late Latin iterare, from Latin iter “journey, way,” from root of ire “to go” (from PIE root *ei- “to go”); 2. Old French errant, past participle of errer (see err ). The senses fused in English 14c., but much of the sense of the latter since has gone with arrant.

So, no.

I sometimes guess correctly about etymologies. See doff and don. But not often.

Related reading
All OCA etymology posts (Pinboard)

Rebecca Black’s Thursday

This morning I learned from NPR that Rebecca Black has an album coming out today. Thanks, NPR.

In 2011, as a moderator for the East-Central Illinois Cultural Studies Association Conference’s Music-as-Culture Division’s Pop Music section, I issued an call for papers on Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” I enjoyed rereading the titles of the submissions this Thursday. My favorite: “Notes Toward a Supreme Weekend: The Suburban Sublime in ‘Friday.’”

[The E-CICSAC was, of course, imaginary.]

Ronald Blythe (1922–2022)

Author of Akenfield: Portrait of an English Village. The New York Times has an obituary.

Related posts
Eight excerpts from Akenfield

EXchange names on screen

Philip Raven (Alan Ladd) consults a telephone directory.

[This Gun for Hire (dir. Frank Tuttle, 1942). Click for a larger view.]

In the remake, Kyle Niles (Robert Ivers) gets to consult one too.

[Shortcut to Hell (dir. James Cagney, 1957). Click for a larger view.]

More telephone EXchange names on screen
Act of Violence : The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse : Armored Car Robbery : Baby Face : Black Angel : Black Widow : Blast of Silence : The Blue Dahlia : Blue Gardenia : Boardwalk Empire : Born Yesterday : The Brasher Doubloon : The Brothers Rico : The Case Against Brooklyn : Chinatown : Craig’s Wife : Danger Zone : The Dark Corner : The Dark Corner (again) : Dark Passage : Deception : Deux hommes dans Manhattan : Dial Red 0 : Dick Tracy’s Deception : Down Three Dark Streets : Dream House : East Side, West Side : Escape in the Fog : Fallen Angel : Framed : Hollywood Story : Kiss of Death : The Little Giant : Loophole : The Man Who Cheated Himself : Mr. District Attorney : Modern Marvels : Murder by Contract : Murder, My Sweet : My Week with Marilyn : Naked City (1) : Naked City (2) : Naked City (3) : Naked City (4) : Naked City (5) : Naked City (6) : Naked City (7) : Naked City (8) : Naked City (9) : Nightfall : Nightmare Alley : Nocturne : Old Acquaintance : Out of the Past : Perry Mason : Pitfall : The Public Enemy : Railroaded! : Red Light : She Played with Fire : Side Street : The Slender Thread : Slightly Scarlet : Stage Fright : Sweet Smell of Success (1) : Sweet Smell of Success (2) : Tension : Till the End of Time : This Gun for Hire : The Unfaithful : Vice Squad : Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

Twelve movies

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

Shortcut to Hell (dir. James Cagney, 1957). James Cagney’s lone effort as a director stars Robert Ivers as hitman Kyle Niles and Georgann Johnson as Glory Hamilton, an upbeat, jokey nightclub singer. As I watched, I kept thinking that Jacques Aubuchon was channeling Laird Cregar, and it’s no wonder: the movie is a remake of This Gun for Hire, itself adapted from Graham Greene’s A Gun for Sale. Many scenes come straight from the original movie; Cagney’s hand might be most evident in Niles’s White Heat-like agony. Best line: “I’m not a person; I’m a gun.” ★★ (YT)

*

This Gun for Hire (dir. Frank Tuttle, 1942). Far superior to the remake. Alan Ladd as the hitman Philip Raven and Veronica Lake as singer-magician Ellen Graham pair well: unlike Glory, Ellen is a cool customer, devoid of Martha Raye-like comedy. As nightclub owner Willard Gates, Laird Cregar adds an oily, minty, villainous charm to the proceedings. Lake gets first billing; Robert Preston, as Ellen’s police-lieutenant boyfriend, second; but the real star, always, is Ladd, as a short vicious ailurophile. ★★★★ (CC)

*

From the Criterion Channel’s Mike Leigh at the BBC

Nuts in May (1976). A BBC Play for Today, and a remake (who knew?) of a 1953 television movie with the same title, a title shared with an unrelated 1917 Stan Laurel short — which is strange, because I thought of this movie as Laurel-and-Hardy-go-camping, if Laurel and Hardy were straight, insufferable, banjo-and-guitar-playing, lacto-vegetarian prigs. Roger Sloman and Alison Steadman are the prigs, Keith and Candice Marie, whose ten-day camping trip to the countryside is made miserable by nearby campers who have no respect for The Country Code. Quietly and sometimes loudly hilarious. Just wait for the songs. ★★★★

The Kiss of Death (1977). Another Play for the Day, it’s the story of a young mortuary assistant, Trevor (David Threlfall), his friend Ronnie, his friend’s girlfriend Sandra, and Sandra’s friend Linda (Kay Adshead), a shoestore employee who may prove a suitable girlfriend for Trevor. Ronnie and Sandra seem to be emotional blanks, figures from The Waste Land. Trevor is an enigma: when the more talkative Linda asks him about the possibility of a kiss, he giggles uncontrollably — yet he’s astonishingly capable when taking on matters of life and death. We’re meant, I think, to understand that Trevor’s daily intimacy with the dead has deeply affected him, but I’m not sure that the movie helps us to understand why giggles are the result. ★★★

*

Loan Shark (dir. Seymour Friedman, 1952). Impossibly ludicrous: just-released ex-con Joe Gargen (George Raft) joins up with the loansharking crew that just killed his brother-in-law; and thus Joe’s sister and his girlfriend, who don’t know that he’s really working undercover, turn their backs on him. Paul Stewart is menacing and has a good scene in a commercial laundry taken over by the sharks. But Raft, is as usual, wooden. Give him any line — “April is the cruellest month,” “My pants are on fire,” “Yabba dabba doo” — and it will come out in the same affectless tone. ★★ (YT)

*

I Accuse! (dir. José Ferrer, 1958). The Dreyfus affair, with Ferrer giving a great performance as the protagonist. Impossible to watch without thinking about McCarthyism — accusations without merit, lives ruined. The really chilling part: nothing Albert Dreyfus can say or do is enough to establish his innocence; everything depends some other person choosing (finally) to do the right thing. A superior effort, with a screenplay by Gore Vidal. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

Edge of Darkness (dir. Lewis Milestone, 1943). Warner Brothers at its finest, in a story told in one long flashback, as a Norwegian fishing village under Nazi occupation awaits a shipment of British arms and a chance to fight back. Impossible to watch without thinking about Ukraine. With Errol Flynn, Ann Sheridan, and Walter Huston. Great cinematography by Sid Hickox, with scenes of combat that recall the director’s All Quiet on the Western Front. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

The Life of Jimmy Dolan (dir. Archie Mayo, 1933). Prizefighter Jimmy Dolan (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) kills a nasty newspaper man with one punch and flees the city, ending up way out west at a ranch for children with polio, where he assumes the name Jack Dougherty and meets caregiver Peggy (Loretta Young). When the ranch needs money to remain open, Jack decides to enter a boxing contest, even at the risk of being recognized. With Guy Kibbee, Allen Hoskins, Aline MacMahon, Mickey Rooney, and John Wayne. Try to figure out what marks the movie as pre-Code. ★★★ (TCM)

*

They Made Me a Criminal (dir. Busby Berkeley, 1939). A remake, with John Garfield as the fighter (now Johnnie Bradfield), Gloria Dickson as Peggy, and Claude Rains as Guy Kibbee. But much screentime goes to the Dead End Kids (reform-school alums): Gabriel Dell, Leo Gorcey, Huntz Hall, Billy Halop, Bobby Jordan, Bernard Punsly. The love story is weaker than in the original; the scene in the water-storage tank is harrowing. Try to figure out what marks the movie as post-Code. ★★★ (YT)

*

The Little Foxes (dir. William Wyler, 1941). From Lillian Hellman’s play, with a screenplay mostly by Hellman. Greed and schemes in a southern family, circa 1900, with Regina Hubbard Giddens (Bette Davis), an ailing husband (Herbert Marshall), two wealthier brothers (Ben Hubbard and Carl Benton Reid), a daughter who serves as witness to the family’s dysfunction (Teresa Wright), a drunken sister-in-law (Patricia Collinge), a callow nephew (Dan Duryea), and a host of loyal Black servants. Not my kind of movie, but it’s full of great performances: the scene with Mr. and Mrs. Giddens in the sitting room is chilling. Gregg Toland’s cinematography is, as always, brilliant: consider the shaving scene. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

The Hoodlum (dir. Max Nosseck, 1951). You can see it coming: if the movie stars Lawrence Tierney (as felon Vincent Lubeck) and begins with his character’s mother (Lisa Golm) successfully pleading for his parole, things are not going to end well. Vincent is a psychopath: no sooner is he released than he betrays family members and begins scheming an armored-car robbery. Not especially surprising or even suspenseful, but Lisa Golm shines briefly when she recounts her son’s destruction of his family. Best line: “You took your Papa’s name and burned a number on his heart: one nine nine four three six.” ★★★ (YT)

*

Crime and Punishment U.S.A. (dir. Denis Sanders, 1959). The third adaptation of Dostoevsky our household has seen (after Crime and Punishment (1935) and Fear (1946)), and by far the best. George Hamilton — yes, really — is our Raskolnikov, Robert Cole, a Los Angeles college student; Frank Silvera (Killer’s Kiss) is the Porfiry-like Lieutenant Porter, Cole’s nemesis; Mary Murphy (The Wild One) is the Sonya-like Sally. Walter Newman’s screenplay is a brilliant paring down of the novel: Cole’s mother, sister, and best friend are nearly absent; his sister’s employer and suitor are collapsed into one person; emphasis thus falls on the three principals. I have to admit: I preferred this adaptation to the novel itself. ★★★★ (TCM)

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