Category Archives: Atmosphere

SAST

I dumped my Netflix streaming a while ago (went to DVD only) and got Amazon Prime streaming around the same time. One of the shows Amazon was featuring was the classic Hawaii Five-0. This gem, which aired from the late sixties up until 1980, was a favorite of my late grandmother’s. Through osmosis (annual summer visits to the Jersey Shore,) I too became a fan of this show. So I was pleased to find it available and in HD.

A lot of things strike me about the show, but don’t worry, I’m not going to go into all of them. Instead, I’d like to get a little more meta and talk about programming. The running time of classic Hawaii Five-0 episodes is 50 minutes. Each show has three commercial breaks (wipes). So if you sat down to watch the show for an hour, you’d have seen 10 minutes of commercials.

Okay, so that’s the setup.

Today at my gym, I decided to do the AMT, which is a freeform elliptical and is pretty intense. Although there is a great view out the window, it is obscured by a large personal entertainment center, mainly for network news and basic cable TV. Although they don’t have our local PBS station, WGBH, they do have MTV.

I cut the cord to cable in 2007. I’m not adverse to media, but I didn’t like how the large telcos were bundling and packing it through cable. The offerings and corporate attitude really rubbed me the wrong way; more is not always better. I still watch TV, just in better, and evolving ways. Except today I decided to watch MTV for a grueling half hour.

The show on was MTV’s True Life, a long-running documentary series that follows two young adults around as they make decisions and grow up. The theme of this show was, “I Might Disappoint My Parents.” One kid was poor, hispanic and from a single parent household; his issue was transitioning from DJ-ing for free to getting a paying job. The other kid was from a Persian family from Beverly Hills; he was writing a “memoir” about embracing American Life/LA Culture and rejecting his Persian heritage. This second kid’s parents, needless to say, were not thrilled with their son’s book idea; they were particularly irritated with his chosen cover, [below].

These kids’ stories, as fascinating as they are, apparently didn’t leave much to be gleaned by MTV’s producers. It hit me at about 18 minutes into the workout; I’d been watching more commercials than the show. Reliable Sources (IMDB) say that the show is a one hour documentary. If that is so, I would hazard that the actual runtime is between 35 – 40 minutes. At best, you would spend 1/3 of an hour watching commercials. I actually felt like I was watching the commercial channel with bits of TV breaks.

While this simplistic observation does not factor in DVRs, it is nevertheless worth noting.

Classic Hawaii Five-0 : MTV’s True LifeBeware, Link!
Shogun : e-book
Magazine Article : tweet

I’m cool with technology, but I’m not cool with the shortening of the human attention span. When a TV show from a generation ago seems like a paragon of thoughtful storytelling compared to today’s interrupted life, I’m reassured that much is indeed amiss. I like good stories like I like good people; both take time. If only I could turn that TV aside and just enjoy the view.

~WD

Landings

It has been a few months since I’ve moved into my own apartment in East Boston. I’ve been pretty busy trying to furnish the place tastefully and develop a routine. While I finally feel like I have a place to call my own, I still don’t know very many people in my neighborhood. So I was pleased to find out recently that a nice guy that I’d met through the fall softball league was going to be moving in just a few blocks from me. Sadly, when he first moved in, I was in the middle of a nasty cold. Thankfully, by last night I was finally feeling better, so we were able to get together for a delightful dinner. While I was walking over to his place, I noticed a man sitting on a stoop near his apartment; it was cold out and the man seemed dejected and without anywhere to go. However, this being a big city, I didn’t’ stop or attempt to engage him.

I meet up with my friend and we went out for dinner. After dinner, I walked him home, said goodnight, and continued back to my place. About half way there, I see a young guy standing in the street looking down at the curb, and as I approach, I notice that there is a man lying half on the sidewalk, half in the street. I asked the guy what had happened, and he responded that he had just come across the man lying there, and had called 911. I asked if he was going to wait until help arrived, and when he said yes, I continued back to my apartment, passing a fire truck responding to the call en route. The sight of the man in lying there has stuck with me. His legs were on the sidewalk, and his torso and head were on the street, near the curb. I’m not sure if it was the same guy I saw earlier sitting on the stoop, but my gut tells me that it was.

I wonder what happened to him; how did he end up there, in that sad position, all alone. The street where he was lying borders Logan airport; he had come to rest not far whence jetliners ascended and descended daily in their mechanical monotony. Where was he from? Did he lose his housing at the end of last month? Will he be okay? Such are the sights that one does not see in the sanitized streets of self-segregating suburbia.

It was a melancholic encounter, for sure, but it forced me to reflect on what I have and what I have to give.

One If By Land

It’s 2:30 a.m. and I have just returned from five amazing hours in Dewey Square at Occupy Boston. It has been quite an interesting few weeks for the movement and encampment.

About a month ago, Occupy Boston went to court to preemptively protect their rights. At first, there was a victory; a judge granted OB a temporary restraining order, prohibiting the police from clearing the camp. But just this week, OB failed to win a preliminary injunction from that same court, thereby freeing the City to clear the camp.

Shortly after this ruling, Boston Mayor Menino declared that any protesters remaining in Dewey Square after midnight on 12/8 would be subject to arrest for trespass. At this news, many in the camp decided to pack it up and leave, some attempting to avoid arrest, others satisfied that they had made their point. The library was boxed up and taken away, as were the medical, food and logistics tents.

Of course, there were some who were not going to go so quietly. It was anticipated that a smaller group would deliberately remain after midnight and subject themselves to arrest. In this spirit, OB called upon all its supporters to come down to Dewey Square and either a) join those seeking to be arrested, or b) support them from across the street.

As you know, I just passed the bar, so I chose choice b. When I arrived at Dewey Square around 9:00 the place was packed. Although many of the tents had been removed, exposing patches of black mud, the walkways and plazas were crowded with supporters. I was surprised to find a mostly festive atmosphere; a last hurrah if you will.

Many things were going on at once: campers were disposing of their goods into a city dump truck parked nearby, a general assembly was debating what to do come midnight, and then, to my great delight, a brass band showed up. Rebirth they were not, but the “Second Line Social Aid and Pleasure Society” brought some great vibes and fun, participatory music to the scene. After dancing for an hour or so, I visited the general assembly which had decided to scrap a proposed midnight dance party and instead break the crowd into the two groups mentioned above, those willing to risk arrest and those who would support them from a distance.

As the midnight hour drew near, supporters offered impassioned well wishes to the crowd. This continued past the deadline, despite an attempt by some meatheads to derail the momentum by chanting nonsensical slogans. By this point, the crowd was so large that it was in two areas, one in Dewey Square and another across the street in front of the Federal Reserve Bank.

As the time progressed and no police action occurred, the two groups began doing call and response chanting across the street. The Dewey group spilled from the sidewalk into the street, taking up two of the three traffic lanes. The police did not try to disperse the crowd and instead concentrated on directing traffic through the remaining open lane. After about 20 minutes of this, a few bold supporters seized on a gap in traffic and took the third and final lane. We all danced out into the street, shouting and chanting (who’s streets? OUR streets) and a few brave people sat down in the middle of the street; Occupy Boston had taken Atlantic Avenue.

Amazingly, the police did not attempt to remove us. Instead they re-routed traffic and backed off.

So, how did we manage to defy and defeat the curfew? Strength in numbers.

I was at Occupy Boston on the first day it set up camp in Dewey Square. That day was awe-inspiring because when you looked out at the square, you couldn’t see any grass; a sea of people sat upon it. Since then, I’ve watched this movement grow and the camp become a little microcosm. Of late, however, it seemed that some of the movement’s momentum had been sapped; marches were attracting fewer people, and the issues within the camp seemed to be taking a toll on those committed to the cause. When I read the judge’s decision denying the preliminary injunction, I concluded that it was time for the camp, but not the movement, to go. I still feel that way. But what happened tonight was a testament to the power of the people; tonight we practiced what we have been chanting: “the people, united, will never be defeated.”

The people, us, the 99%, were out in huge numbers tonight; I would estimate that at the midnight peak, there were about 500 bodies there. The people were young and old, black and white, regulars and newcomers. They were there, and in their numbers, they sent a message… “NOT YET!”

I’m so proud of the occupy movement. Prior to it, this country was having idiotic conversations about the deficit. Now, people are talking about what really matters: income inequality, the corrupt tax code, outsize corporate influence in politics and the need for job creation. Although many other encampments have been shut down forcibly and the Dewey Square encampment is all but shuttered, this movement is just beginning. If 500 people can come out at midnight on a cold weekday, just imagine what we can do this spring.

America is still in for a winter of discontent; but as the grass will grow once again at Dewey square, so too will flower the hearty bulbs have been planted throughout this land.

Come On, _____

Around town an on the internets a lot of people are saying, “Come on Irene.” This is a mondegreen of the 1982 song by Dexy’s Midnight Runners “Come on Eileen.” A mondegreen is a misheard lyric. I just wanted to point this out because as a fan of 1980’s music, I feel that a classic is being inartfully appropriated. Although “Eileen” and “Irene” are assonant (they resemble each others’ vowel sounds,) the two are not the same. That said, I’m hard pressed to come up with memorable songs with the word “Irene” in the title. So come on, Eileen; and America, get it right.

About New Orleans

Hello readers. I want to take a minute and give you all my impressions of New Orleans, the city which I’ve called home for the past three years. First, you may be wondering why I came here; after all, I am a Yankee, born and raised in Massachusetts and educated in Connecticut. Well, there were two reasons. The first, which is what compelled me to apply to Tulane Law School, was Hurricane Katrina. When Katrina overtopped the levies and flooded New Orleans, I was a in the Peace Corps in Romania. It was from my vantage point behind the Carpathians that I viewed the utter destruction of an American city on my little 13″ TV. The images were shocking and sad. So I applied to Tulane. Fast forward and I find that not only does Tulane accept me but it offers a generous financial aid package. Deal done. When I returned from abroad, I spent a well-advised year re-adjusting in Lewiston, Maine. While I enjoyed my time in Maine, it simply could not prepare me for the reality that was New Orleans.

NOLA is a complicated city; once a gem of the South, it had been pretty much left to decay since the 1970s. Why? Plenty of reasons, the most important of which is race. While New Orleans was always an outlier in the Deep South, it too suffered from the pervasive racism that was so engrained south of the Mason-Dixon line. While the degree of the segregation here was mitigated by the Creoles and through the unifying culture of music, NOLA was a segregated city. In the parts of town that were, and still are, historically black, you’ll find, curiously enough, large Synagogues. NOLA was always a mercantile city, an important port for the slave trade, cotton trade, and sugar trade. Trade means business, which is what propelled New Orleans forward. Streetcar tracks were laid, swamps were cleared for homes, and the city grew, from the river (the French Quarter) to Carrolton to Lake Ponchatrain. Thanks to its strategic location near the foot of the Mississippi River, New Orleans was a bustling metropolis, with connections to South America and the American interior.

But as I mentioned, New Orleans was largely segregated. While no doubt our modern sensibilities recoil at this fact, it was not particularly scandalous at the time. After the abolition of slavery, strong black communities grew and thrived here. Treme, for those of you who enjoy the HBO show, has always been a historically black neighborhood. Ponchatrain Park and New Orleans East were also havens for an emergent black middle class. While the city remained segregated, it was strong. Good transportation networks linked communities and local businesses thrived in myriad commercial districts. The synagogues I mentioned earlier, in black neighborhoods, show the historic connections between the black and Jewish communities; both were somewhat unwelcome outsiders to the conventional power structure and both grew together.

But America was moving on, and the era of officially-sanctioned racial discrimination was coming to an end. Ruby Bridges, as a young girl, was the first to integrate the segregated New Orleans public schools. Pictures from her historic first day at school show a mob of angry whites protesting her entry into their school; in fact, after she was admitted to the school, almost all of the white families withdrew their children, lest they associate with their colored peers. And like that, the noble goal of integration led to the city’s great decline. White racists decided it best to move out of the city, to the communities outside of urban Orleans Parish to Metarie, Kenner, and across the lake to Mandeville. The white flight devastated the city, depriving it of tax revenue and depopulating its urban core. While New Orleans had been integrated, at least in theory, the effects led to another type of segregation, this one more invidious.

Moon Landrieu served as the mayor of New Orleans from 1970 – 1978. He was a progressive, and seeing the writing on the wall, was a pioneer in desegregating the city government. For the first time, under his administration, prominent blacks were elected and appointed to positions of power within the city government. Moon Landrieu encouraged the kind of desegregation that New Orleans badly needed. While Moon’s work was much appreciated by the majority of the black population of New Orleans, he set the stage for his succession by New Orleans’ first black mayor, Dutch Morial. Dutch served as mayor of New Orleans from the mid-1970s to the mid-1980s. Morial, unlike Landrieu, was a widely disliked figure. Though well aware of the racial injustices that had shaped the city, his self-aggrandising behavior caused great friction within the city and marked New Orleans’ slide away from the limelight. Morial’s commitment to affirmative action dramatically changed the racial composition of New Orleans’ civil service.

The three mayors following Dutch Morial were all black, and all of them continued the affirmative action policies espoused by the first Morial. Here it is crucial to note that all these black mayors received the overwhelming support of New Orleans’ elite, the Uptown crowd. These white Republicans were more than ready to support any “pro-business” mayor and were shrewd enough to realize that the city’s demographics now weighed heavily in favor of its black population. While the white power structure remained a potent force in the city, they were outnumbered by the city’s black citizens. Therefore, the succession of black mayors, culminating in C. Ray Nagin, were all supported not only by the majority of the city’s black population, but also by the city’s white Republican power structure.

Unfortunately, New Orleans went the way of most American cities in the 1970s and 1980s. Declining revenue led to cutbacks on city services and deferred maintenance on some of the city’s jewels, such as public parks and schools. While this was occurring, a new segregation was taking root; whites either left the city, or, if they remained, sent their children to a parallel universe comprised of private schools. That which had been integrated was abandoned, from neighborhood schools to public pools. This wholesale “opt-out” of public/civic life rendered the black administrations unable to maintain the quality of life for its citizens. Schools began to go downhill, playgrounds were not maintained, the roads fell apart, streetlights were not replaced, and the city became very violent.

While much of the blame for this sad situation rightfully rested on the backs of the racist whites who refused to integrate, much of the resulting decay was accelerated by corruption within the black community. Because blacks had been wronged for so long, the black administrations sought to rectify this by turning the tables and creating a majority-black city workforce. While this policy no doubt allowed many qualified individuals to obtain positions that would have once been foreclosed to them, it also encouraged race-based hiring decisions that did not necessarily seek to recruit the most qualified candidates. The result of this dysfunction is epitomized by the creation of certain institutions, such as the Progressive Democrats, a group of black politicians that played on the majority black population’s legitimate fears of racism. Bill Jefferson, known as “Dollar Bill” for his notorious corruption that ended with Federal agents finding wads of money secreted away in his freezer, is perhaps the most egregious offender. Race was used as a factor to award all sorts of city contracts. The result was widespread corruption. Those who suffered the most were, as usual, the most vulnerable; the youth. Corruption within the New Orleans Public Schools was rampant. Corrupt black politicians and contractors managed to rip off fellow blacks while harping on the perils of control by outsiders. This unfortunate situation led the city to be driven not by best practices, but by fear-based race mongering.

During this time, an attitude developed within New Orleans’ black community which sought to protect its own over all, even common sense. Victimization became the norm, and hatred of the white oppressor rose to the forefront. These emotions were not without basis. As mentioned previously, many whites were openly hostile of the black community. Nonetheless, certain black political operators, including the city’s mayors, used this situation for their own advantage. Instead of seeking to unite a city fractured by racial and political turmoil, they counted on their demographic advantage by pandering to their constituents’ worst fears. The result was a city decimated, depopulated and ever more segregated. Nowhere was this more evident than in the New Orleans Public Schools; even today, most of the city’s majority white elite shun the public schools in favor of expensive private schools.

Even more invidious than the physical segregation was the mental segregation. Blacks and whites increasingly saw their needs as divergent. The white minority loyal to NOLA hunkered down in certain neighborhoods while the black population increasingly defined themselves by their solidarity with one another. The result of this cognitive divergence led to a cycle of close-mindedness and self-perptuating stereotypes. The corrupt from both communities exacerbated these tensions, and to this day, New Orleans remains a highly segregated city.

Then came Hurricane Katrina. The results, as we all know too well, were disastrous. Not only was the city vulnerable due to shortcomings in the Army Corps of Engineers’ flood protection, but also its response was hamstrung by the serious structural defects outlined above. Public busses abandoned at the depot sat there and flooded instead of being utilized to evacuate needy citizens. Ray Nagin got on TV and cried, and while we all cried with him at the time, we’d later learn that he himself was largely responsible for the utter ineptitude shown in the wake of the crisis.

Somehow, however, Ray Nagin managed to be a hero. He was re-elected in 2006 and tasked with the mandate of rebuilding the city. However, he was not up to the task. As a recent report issued by a disinterested consultant concluded; New Orleans under the tenure of Ray Nagin was the most corrupt and mismanaged city in the United States. When I arrived in New Orleans in the summer of 2008, three years after Katrina, the city looked like it had been hit just a month or a year ago. Neighborhoods were destroyed; homes lay wrecked; the streets were a mess. Yet everywhere there were signs promising recovery. At shuttered libraries and damaged schools, signs from the private contractor MWH declared “Recovery In Progress.” But there was no progress. For those first two years, the signs declaring progress was all the progress one could see. As has now been revealed by the consultants’ report, this progress was stymied by the blatant corruption and sheer ineptitude of not only the Nagin administration but also a vindictive contra-power structure that emphasized the color of one’s skin over the quality of one’s character.

So a great opportunity to rebuild a once-great city was squandered. Most of New Orleans’ poorer neighborhoods remain devastated to this day. Blighted properties abound and sub-standard schools limp forward, with the hope that charter school management will salvage generations of ignorance, illiteracy and race-hatred. Public services are non-existant, the police force is out of control, and the urban decay continues.

Yet I’d like to conclude this post on a positive note. In 2010, Mitch Landrieu was elected mayor of New Orleans. His election was both shocking and familiar. It was shocking because Mitch is the first white mayor of New Orleans since his father held that position in the 1970s. It is also familiar because his election, like that of Marc Morial in 1994, showcases how loyal NOLA is to its native sons. Mitch, however, won fair and square, amidst a sea of well qualified black opponents. Since his election, those big signs trumpeting “Recovery in Progress” have been taken down. In their place you will see work crews out working, on the city’s public libraries, schools and streets. Mitch has also embraced the nascent people-power movement that is finally finding its way down here by organizing community meetings and “fight the blight” campaigns. Mayor Landrieu has endorsed the findings of both the consultant hired to evaluate City Hall and the the Department of Justice’s report on the New Orleans Police Department. Both of these reports are stark; utter incompetence at City Hall, which culminated under the administration of C. Ray Nagin, and blatant violations of the US Constitution by the NOPD. Now that these reports have been released, Mayor Landrieu can begin to take the drastic action that must be taken to re-orient this city.

This re-orientation will not be easy. As I’ve mentioned, the racial tensions here are like none I’ve ever before seen. Attitudes, on both sides of the divide, will need to be changed. Ineffective managers and workers will need to be let go. Respect for the rule of law, both by the police and citizens, must be inculcated. In short, inertia must be overcome.

This task will not be easy, but for the first time in a long time, New Orleans has been forced to look at itself for what it really is. A fun, artistic place graced by musical fancy; yes. But now too a lawless and segregated place with major attitude problems. And no, the two are not co-dependent. Indeed, NOLA may yet shine with a police force committed to the rule of law, an education system committed to excellence, and a city government committed to innovation. New Orleanians have been given one last chance; having overcome Mother Nature, it is now themselves that they must confront.