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November 1 2002 8:06 PM
To A Friend, Long Since Gone - Donny Laing 1952-1984
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
Will Holmes - Master Sailor, Donny Laing, Crazy Dan & Yours Truly (thumbs up) in the Coastal Mountains of Santa Barbara - 1984 (self portrait, Nikon F)
Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
I can only vaguely recall when I first met Donny in high school. I was a junior and he a year younger. I think he spent some time in a private school, and it was rumored (or he bragged ) that he was kicked out. He was an Eastsider (rich kid ) but didn’t fit in with that crowd. In class he was always respectful but devilish behind the scenes – kind of an Eddie Haskell but with much more style.
I think that we started hanging out together because of our mutual interest in music - stuff that drifted from the normal “Top 40” - Moby Grape, Leigh Steven’s and the early Grateful Dead.
He didn't drive yet, as punishment for screwing up at private school. So we started going to Y dances together, listening to groups like Raw Meat and OX while making feeble attempts at picking up girls. As our techniques improved we’d do double dates, ending the night parked at North Point steaming up the windows in my dad’s new canary yellow Plymouth. Girls seemed comfortable on "doubles" and my dad was super cool about letting me use his car!
A turning point in becoming best buds, he and I hitchhiked to Madison to see Jimi Hendrix. It amazes me that our parents would allow us to do such a thing, but I distinctly recall their approval: I spent the night before at Don’s place and his mom cooked us an incredible breakfast with stern warnings to be safe. It was a great adventure. We stayed at a friend's apartment that had graduated before us and was attending UW for his first year. His apartment was a total mess, the concert was magical and we ended up with little sleep until we got safely home.
I spent my first year at the local university, so we still hung out, but far less. When he graduated, he was off to St. Norbert College. I lost touch for over ten years, always expecting we'd meet again.
During Christmas of 1982 I was living in Palos Verdes and working a black program for the "peacekeeper." I flew home for Christmas and was doing some last minute shopping when I ran into another old high school buddy, Danny Stubler. We called him Stubby back in HS and I guess the name stuck. I was surprised he was still in town, as he was one of the first to venture off to California after high school. When he came back, his parents wouldn't let him stay at home, so he stayed with me for a week or so until things were mended.
To my delight, he told me Donny was in town as well staying at the Waelderhaus. I guess his dad retired early and was curator or some such thing. So I called the museum and got Don Sr. on the line. He quizzed me in his normal gruff voice as to why I wanted to talk to his "only" son. Half way through the discussion it dawned on him who I was and the phone was immediately passed on to Donny Jr.
I assumed Don would have become an attorney or be running some slick business, but he told me he was kicked out of St. Norbert College. After that, he hid out at his parents cottage in Sturgeon Bay and started working as an apprentice shipwright for Palmer Johnson, the mega-yacht builder. Then he apprenticed with some old wooden boat builder who was actually landed-locked somewhere in Wisconsin. That's where Don really gained his skills.
We agreed to meet at the Horse & Plow, a posh tavern in the Five-Diamond American Club enclave. Donny still had good taste! We met, we drank imported beers and even smoked cigars and caught up on ten long years. We closed the place down and me, not wanting (or able) to drive, was the invited guest at the Waelderhaus. Don's mom graciously prepared breakfast for us once again the next morning. Deja Vu.
It turns out Donny was a transplanted Californian as well, living in San Luis Obispo. He was doing freelance yacht building, but mostly lucrative boat repair in Avila Beach and Moro Bay. Thanks to his girlfriend, Jules, a UCSB student, he also had some famous clients in Santa Barbara - Peter Frampton, the horn man Tom Scott and Burl Ives (chuckle, chuckle) - all fine yachtsmen.
We agreed to meet at Newport Beach for the upcoming spring Wooden Boat Show. He'd bring Jules and some friends and I was to coax Naomi up from San Diego to meet us. She was also part of our high school gang and way out of our reach back then. I boasted that I was finally dating her, though in reality it was quite casual.
Moro Bay Rock
Coming November 4 . . . our California reunion and the beginning of a dream.
October 31 2002 8:33 PM
Air Travel
From my limited vantage, I can’t quite understand why the airlines are still loosing so much money. Four of the last five flights of mine were completely full. During my last trip out of BWI, both “over-fill” parking lots were full and I had to use a lot that cost twice the rate. The line through security was at least two blocks long. Terminals seem packed as ever even though only ticketed passengers are allowed in.
Imagine conditions if airline traffic was back to pre-9/11 levels. It would be the mother of all gridlock! I’ll be driving to my destination over the holidays.
I’ll say one thing positive about the new realities of air travel. It seems that since the Feds took over, the people working the security check-in lines are so much friendlier. I recall pre-9/11 check-ins similar to dealing with the graveyard shift clerk at a 7/11 – not necessarily rude but completely indifferent.
I bet they are trained to be that way, if nothing else to reduce friction. My recent encounters at National, BWI, St. Louis, Chicago and DFW have all been positive in spite of the long lines. Maybe this is short-lived. Maybe they are just happy having new government jobs with real benefits for the first time in their work experience.
Of course, everyone is complaining about air travel these days and it is a popular theme of the media. The media coverage just reinforces those people reluctant to travel to stay home instead. There are other factors at play here. Business travel is down due to a weak economy. Leisure travel is down due to a weak economy. Airline pricing structure is totally screwed up. It is cheaper to fly to Europe than make a trip half-way across the country on some airlines. Budget Airlines like Southwest, Air Tran and Jet Blue continue to make money. Hmmmm . . .
I think a principle reason the airlines are losing money because they are badly managed and completely lack customer focus. Flying, even for business, use to be a treat. Now it is like a battle (oh that’s where the term “road warrior” came from).
The big question: Are we really safer flying today than before 9/11?
Well, there are fewer flights, so statically our odds improve. Awareness is high everywhere. Check-in security, though still sporadic, has got to be better. Cockpit doors are closer to being terrorist proof.
We have thousands of air marshals flying about (usually in that last first class seat that I could have upgraded to). Yet we hear they are worked 16 hours a day with little time off and are quitting faster than they can be hired. Imagine the boredom and the sore backs. If that problem isn’t fixed and pronto, I’m worried that one of these armed guys might lose it and do some real harm when they start getting a divorce notices or just snap.
The bottom line: If your kingdom is on a peninsula and your enemy attacks you from the ground, you build a big wall to stop him. They then buys ships. Weak analogy, I know but . . .
We are spending billions to build a wall to protect us from a threat that probably no longer exists.
These terrorists may look dumber than a camel’s ass, but they are smart enough to realize that there are a thousand other areas where we, as a country, are far more vulnerable than commercial air travel. In my view, we should take those air marshals off the planes and put them back where they can do some good: our borders and ports.
With that reassurance, go ahead – buy a ticket and fly somewhere! Just be careful on the drive to the airport.
October 30 2002 11:40 PM
Yes Mr. Gates, I Will Buy Your Stock Again (and profit ). But Please Fix Windows XP SP-1 with SP-X++
I was fortunate enough to purchase some shares of Microsoft stock in the late eighties and hang on to them for about a decade. I could have done a bit better if I had hung on to them when they peaked in early 2000, or much worse if I still had them today. But who can predict exactly when to sell a stock – definitely not my old broker.
Well, I could not actually retire on my gains from Microsoft but it was my first positive experience with our capitalist system. So I have never been a Microsoft Basher. I never once thought that Bill Gates was the antichrist. Behind the scenes we hear he’s tough and can be ruthless. But I still kind of like the guy and would not at all mind sitting down with him over lunch and a robust discussion. I think I’d pass on the opportunity if it were Larry Ellison.
Regarding his products, well I am just lukewarm. The pundits complain about buggy and bloated software and warn us about the latest security hole and how to get the plug. Sure, I got the blue screen of death on occasion but had never suffered anymore than having to reboot and loose a few bits of data.
I survived all that. What bothers me most lately is I allowed myself to be coaxed into Windows XP SP-1 upgrade. "SP" stands for service pack. "1" means there will be more.
I tend to be an early adapter when I can afford to be and this upgrade was free. It had the blessing of the tech guy in the Post (with some warnings attached) so I figured, why not. I mean, I had just recently completed the SP-2 upgrade for Office and it went flawlessly – almost.
My new Sony PC does not like Microsoft’s automatic download feature – you know, when you give permission for Microsoft to scan you hard drive to check to see what upgrade you really need. Even though I like Bill Gates, I never much liked Microsoft scanning my hard drive so I was not too distressed when that didn’t work. The download could still be done manually with a little more work.
So I got all the bug fixes and security patches for all of the Office products that I use and I felt good. All the changes were transparent and my buggy version of FrontPage actually started working better. Word stopped typing semi-cryptically by itself (I thought hackers took control of my machine but really the microphone mode is “on” by default)
But the Windows XP SP-1 upgrade would cost me a weekend.
WARNING . . . Sat Dish Uplink Outage . . . More Coming * More Coming
October 29 2002 11:34 PM
Freeway Etiquette - Stuff They'll Never Teach You In Traffic School
So, what percentage of drivers are pre-Alzheimer?
Checking with legal before posting. We don’t really have a legal department but I can’t post what I intended to in spite of the fact no one under thirty reads this. The issue is if I choose to offer my insight on how to improve traffic flow, I’d have to advocate breaking the law. To clarify, it is necessary to exceed the speed limit at times to optimize traffic flow and your position in it. This is but one small element of the overall philosophy, yet a critical element. Well, most of us exceed the speed limit anyway so what’s the big deal?
There is no big deal, but I still need to sleep at night. We are not MTV after all. I need to sanitize that insight and post later. Meanwhile how about some meaningless past observations as filler.
* * *
When I made a reluctant but necessary move from Monterey to Mesa, AZ, I was surprised to see my car insurance go up. Something was actually less costly in California? Like any well-informed consumer, I investigated. It seems Mesa had a higher accident rate than most of California. The principle cause was due to people running red lights.
Being a fairly new city, Mesa was set up on a grid system with main thoroughfares spaced at one-mile squares. Salt Lake City is set up similarly but has older narrower streets and more hills. Mesa is flat and has newer six lane roads. A common Mormon heritage has something to do with the grids. I guess Mormons favor order over chaos or some such thing.
Anyway that translates to hundreds of miles of perpendicular & parallel flat wide streets. Each street is very similar to a drag strip, except drag strips do not have intersections crisscrossing at one-mile intervals. There lies the problem or part of it anyway. The inherent Wild West spirit and near empty intra-state freeway traffic moving at 85+ mph adds to the problem – 65 feels normal on city streets. When the snowbirds make their annual migration from their Midwestern 4-stoplight burgs, all hell breaks loose - crash bang.
* * *
That’s sort of a teaser to introduce the most dangerous driver on the freeway: the Slowbie.
developing . . .
October 28, 2003 8:54 PM
Medium Cool at 33
I have always liked the phrase Medium Cool. It's not a phrase that would I ever use, but there's an abstract sense about it that I find calming. Similar phrases, lukewarm or medium rare, evoke clearer connotations: drawing the baby's bath water and grilling the perfect steak.
This film is shot cinéma vérité style, mostly in the streets of Chicago in 1968 by cinematographer Haskell Wexler. The theme is anti-war but the real message is the shallowness of the newly emerging visual media. In that context, we are exposed to glimpses of the multi-faceted rifts exploding across a country and how the politically powerful and the media coldly flex and adapt. Mayor Richard Daily was only shown once, from the back at a great distance. We never hear him speak, but we know he's in control.
In trying to draw a parallel between that world and ours today, the film succeeds in making 1968 the scarier, at least to me. Our threats today are real, but still random and isolated. Back then, cities burned across the country not from distant terrorists, but from their own citizens. The war was brought to this nation first time ever on the nightly news. Hate crimes were not national events, but quiet lingering realities. Nuclear Holocaust was a given. Yet at least then, snipers shot public figures, not innocent children.
Although the film was rated X at its time and I was not old enough to legally see it, I somehow got in. I guess no one checked ID's back then. The blurry frontal nude mock-fighting scene and raw sound feed as police clashed with kids were fair reason back then for the X (I'm wondering if that rating still exists).
Of course I recalled it to be a compelling film for its over-riding themes at my young age (yeah right) and I forgot all about the nudity and tame profanity over time. It's a film that stuck with me as vaguely haunting, much like Red Weather, released by Leigh Steven's in that same year. Until the DVD came out in 2001, like the album, I never expected to experience it again.
The young sixties demonstrators hardly looked like hippies, but simply kids who missed three months of haircuts. I was amazed to read in today’s Post that there was a large antiwar demonstration in Washington over the weekend. It was uneventful. I wonder how that culture would mesh with its '60's counterparts.
Only the Indies can shoot a film like this today with actors seamlessly mixing with real regional characters and unstaged street scenes. But rarely can they do it in the midst of a historical event in the making. By today’s standards, even for Indies, the professional actors are a bit superficial and rough on the edges. Post baby boomers would have some trouble with that. Also the ironies are contrived and overly blatant. French filmmakers seem to get away with that even today.
The white ghetto scenes were far more moving than the “Chicago Police Riots”, which went on too long. Why do we think of whites only living in the ghettos during the nineteenth century immigration boom? The advent of strip mining in the 1960’s that uprooted much of West Virginia was to be overshadowed by assassinations, race riots and war.
The most genuine character is the Appalachian ghetto boy, perhaps because Wexler often shot one-take-only. The boy is allowed to speak his mind on his life’s realities. The dirt on his arms is not applied by make-up artists and when he is coaxed to take a shower in the movie, that is also a first time real event for him.
As the film was released pre-digital, indeed pre-VCR, I was surprised to see a special section in the DVD. It turns out Wexler is still alive and with a host and cast member, gives us a play-by-play voice over of the entire film. I have always thought that gimmick about as annoying as the English Dups on the Iron Chef, yet I made it through a full second time.
I expect this is one of those "you had to be there" type movies appealing to liberal baby boomers for the most part. Although not cult status, the movie is being shown again on campuses with positive appeal. Oh, there is a budding love story entwined within the flick and we never really find the fate of the boy's father: dead, in Nam or run off with another woman. I managed to find Medium Cool at Netflixs. Don't expect to see it at you local video store.
So what does this have to do about anything? Today's 2nd page news:
Cronkite, who began anchoring the CBS Evening News in 1962, said the country is at a very critical point in its history. The only other decade that compares, he said, is the 1960s, which saw the beginning of the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement come to the forefront and the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and civil rights leaders Martin Luther King Jr. and Medgar Evers.
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