Some one asked me today about our move to Milwaukee. Regular readers know my standard reply about moving to Milwaukee because I can't afford Manhattan. If you've read my recent account of our annual trip to New York, I submit that at heart I'm an New Yorker in exile. But that ignores the fact that I have never lived in NYC, my enduring love for Chicago, a rough and tumble Midwestern city, my suspicion of LA, a collection of suburbs, and my new found affection for Louisville, with its southern charm and culture.
I love cities because they are alive. They thrive on a speed cocktail of culture, history and big dreams realized. In any city worth it's salt you'll find the remnants of better days gone bad and the revival and recovery from the slump. My own city of Milwaukee has taken years to shake the "rust belt" label and in all honesty isn't 100% there yet. The rebuilding of Times Square and the financial rescue of New York is an epic tale. Cleveland, Philadelphia, St Louis and other Midwestern cities have pulled themselves up from bad times. Detroit and Gary haven't made it yet. That this rejuvenation is taking place in Northern Cities that had been written off, is of special enjoyment of those of us who finally realize that the South is still fighting the Civil War and feel foolish for not realizing it earlier.
Cities are where young people go to realize their dreams and where others return to find them again. Cities are where the social contract is tested, reshaped and refined. Cities are where the culture is nurtured and allowed to grow. It's where our music is written, our books are born and our art is created. Cities force us to confront "those "people and find out about our prejudices. Cities are where we come together, like it or not.
There is a lot wrong with America's cities. Part of what is wrong is the myth that life is better in the suburbs. This draws many people out of the cosmopolitan and into the confines of provincialism. Many of these suburban dwellers wake up to a new world when their children are out of the nest and they find the culture of family no longer welcomes them. Like a divorcee at a cocktail party, they are quickly relegated to the edges. They are coming back to the city in droves. And with them, thankfully, are those young families who aren't buying the suburban myth of serenity and bliss. Many of these couples are products of a suburban upbringing and recognize the bland and narrow lifestyle.
Politically, particularly with the rise of conservatism, cities have been the equivalent of an ethnic joke. The premise being that everything that's wrong with American society seems to emanate from cities. this bias has cost major American Cities clout and leverage. They have had to rely pretty much on their own resources to push forward and pull themselves up at the same times. Evidently we can bail out failed American corporations and the Savings and Loan Industry, but we loath to help cities improve their infrastructure. When the local team is the heat of the battle for a national championship, we love them for all their worth, but don't ask anyone outside of the local area to help build a new facility.
In the Milwaukee area the news stations and papers pander to the suburban rich by constantly parading all of the violent crime they can into their venues. Granted there is enough to report, but never is there anything written or spoken about as to what we as the metro community can do to turn things around. No, it's The Cities problem and we have to deal with it. And then they do everything they can to make sure "those "people don't move into their communities. Even if those people are filling the badly needed service jobs these communities need to support their life styles.
What is exported to the suburbs is wealthy and educated group of people who feel that the constant struggle to revitalize and recreate a city is not their job. What is equally true is that this same group of people will brag about how close they are to the city so they can take advantage of the cultural events and other advantages the city affords. It is true, that the further away you are from home the closer you live to a major city. If asked in California where someone lives, the answer will be Milwaukee, because no one outside of Wisconsin knows where Waukesha, Mequon or Oconomowac are.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Theater, Theater, God How We Love the Theater
MBC and I arrived in NYC a bit earlier than Snags and Missy. It afforded us the chance to see one more play. We chose a play in preview called The Farnsworth Invention, written by Aaron Sorkin (West Wing) about the invention of television and the fight for the ability to claim that distinction. Despite tremendous performances by Hank Azaria, as David Sarnoff and Jimmi Simpson, as Philo T. Farnsworth, this production has a way to go before the word Tony becomes associated with it. The characters are interesting and the story is epic when you look at how the medium has changed the world. But instead of delighting us with new perspective and information, it drags and sputters along
I think MBC hit on it right away when she noted Sorkin's famous walk and talk style. On Television we get a break from the frantic pace that this technique sets with the commercials. Not so on the Broadway stage. However with some adjustments in the pace and an overly scientific dialogue, this play could be worthwhile and entertaining.
Once we teamed up with the Tin Man, Snags and Cowardly Lion, Missy, we decided that we should see our one allotted Musical. Explanation is necessary here. Dorothy, MBC, refuses to see more than one musical per visit. Therefore this decision is always the most debated. This year Missy wanted to see Xanadau. Even I, the passive aggressive one, flinched.
We had all agreed the Disney on Broadway was for tourists. We are not tourists. We are New Yorkers in Exile. Avenue Q was fine. Putnam County Spelling Bee was charming, but overdone. Under no circumstances would we resort to seeing Tarzen, Lion King or Legally Blondie.
What is fun are the people you meet in line at Hot Tickets. Many of them have seen the performances you are wondering about and have no ax to grind. If they didn't like it they will pretty much tell you so. After a few moments conversation you can ascertain if their tastes are comparable to yours. If someone tells me Lion King was the best thing they have ever seen on the stage, I'm going to discount much of what they say. If they tell me they haven't seen a good play since Proof, I probably will listen closer.
The final play we saw was part of and off-Broadway experience that is something you get after you realize that all the good plays are not on Broadway. Of course, it doesn't make any difference if you are going to the theater on Broadway or, in this case, Chelsea you have to take the S train, but you've read that story.
Eating outside in the delightful, reasonable and tasty confines of Elmo's, is an unexpected treat for a visitor in late October, but the unusual warm weather permitted it this time. After a promise to return for desert, we marched down to The Atlantic Theater for a performance of the critically acclaimed play by Lucy Turber, Scarcity. The Atlantic is a converted church space and is slightly quirky but effective as a performance space.
The cast, headed by the recognizable Kristen Johnston,(Tird Rock from The sun) took us on journey through the night featuring the visceral features of dysfunctional family. It was, excuse the cliche, like watching a car wreck just before it happens. You know what's going to happen. You want to warn the people in the vehicle, but you're powerless. The play survives on the timelessness of the lessons it portrays and the faint glimmer of hope it extends at the end.
The strong cast and solid script make this play my favorite, but admittedly this season was not strong for us. We all agreed. There were no bad plays, but we have seen better. Even in the case of Scarcity, I'm not sure I wasn't overly influenced by the meatloaf from Elmo's. Good food can put you in an accepting mood.
I think MBC hit on it right away when she noted Sorkin's famous walk and talk style. On Television we get a break from the frantic pace that this technique sets with the commercials. Not so on the Broadway stage. However with some adjustments in the pace and an overly scientific dialogue, this play could be worthwhile and entertaining.
Once we teamed up with the Tin Man, Snags and Cowardly Lion, Missy, we decided that we should see our one allotted Musical. Explanation is necessary here. Dorothy, MBC, refuses to see more than one musical per visit. Therefore this decision is always the most debated. This year Missy wanted to see Xanadau. Even I, the passive aggressive one, flinched.
We had all agreed the Disney on Broadway was for tourists. We are not tourists. We are New Yorkers in Exile. Avenue Q was fine. Putnam County Spelling Bee was charming, but overdone. Under no circumstances would we resort to seeing Tarzen, Lion King or Legally Blondie.
So there it was. Sitting there like glitter ball in the ballroom of a Victorian home, Xanadau. You never know, you know. Snags, Missy and I loved it. Instead of being a revival, it was staged as a satire for everything that was wrong about the eighties. It was done with humor and expertise by a cast of talented and energetic people, featuring the dynamic and funny Kerry Butler. She so captivated us with her switch from the goddess Clio to the rollerskating muse Kara, with the Aussie accent. You couldn't help but look on with a smile on you face and amazement in your mind for her performance.
(MBC laughed and smiled all the way through it. She however, claims that she was enjoying the gay guy next to her who gushed and vamped all through the performance. It's her story and she is after all, Dorthy)
When you go to Hot Tickets booth for discount tickets, you have to know some things in order to be successful and not look like a rube.
(MBC laughed and smiled all the way through it. She however, claims that she was enjoying the gay guy next to her who gushed and vamped all through the performance. It's her story and she is after all, Dorthy)
When you go to Hot Tickets booth for discount tickets, you have to know some things in order to be successful and not look like a rube.
- Cash and Travelers Checks only. NO CREDIT CARDS. It doesn't matter what metal it represents. They don't take them.
- Have more than one play your willing to buy because by the time you get to the ticket booth the one you select first maybe sold out.
- DO NOT ASK FOR BETTER SEATS. They automatically give you the best seats available. If someone gets better seats from the theater at the last minute it's because someone turned them in and the customer was just plain lucky.
- There are two lines for tickets. Most people do not know that the little P next to the name on the board means play. Because there is less demand for these tickets, as a rule, there is a separate line for play tickets. It's always shorter. Ask a security person. They will help you find this line. Do not ask for tickets to musicals when you get to the booth. What happens is not pretty.
- Don't ask the booth people their opinions of the plays. They are busy.
What is fun are the people you meet in line at Hot Tickets. Many of them have seen the performances you are wondering about and have no ax to grind. If they didn't like it they will pretty much tell you so. After a few moments conversation you can ascertain if their tastes are comparable to yours. If someone tells me Lion King was the best thing they have ever seen on the stage, I'm going to discount much of what they say. If they tell me they haven't seen a good play since Proof, I probably will listen closer.
The final play we saw was part of and off-Broadway experience that is something you get after you realize that all the good plays are not on Broadway. Of course, it doesn't make any difference if you are going to the theater on Broadway or, in this case, Chelsea you have to take the S train, but you've read that story.
Eating outside in the delightful, reasonable and tasty confines of Elmo's, is an unexpected treat for a visitor in late October, but the unusual warm weather permitted it this time. After a promise to return for desert, we marched down to The Atlantic Theater for a performance of the critically acclaimed play by Lucy Turber, Scarcity. The Atlantic is a converted church space and is slightly quirky but effective as a performance space.
The cast, headed by the recognizable Kristen Johnston,(Tird Rock from The sun) took us on journey through the night featuring the visceral features of dysfunctional family. It was, excuse the cliche, like watching a car wreck just before it happens. You know what's going to happen. You want to warn the people in the vehicle, but you're powerless. The play survives on the timelessness of the lessons it portrays and the faint glimmer of hope it extends at the end.
The strong cast and solid script make this play my favorite, but admittedly this season was not strong for us. We all agreed. There were no bad plays, but we have seen better. Even in the case of Scarcity, I'm not sure I wasn't overly influenced by the meatloaf from Elmo's. Good food can put you in an accepting mood.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The Dubious Adventures of Missy, Snags, MBC and Jeff Jay, NYC 2007
Missy said to me during our trip to New York City, “You guys wouldn’t have as many adventures as you do if you didn’t travel with directionally challenged me.”. This is true. We’ve suffered many a detour because Missy has this thing about second guessing herself. This is most discouraging when she makes these bad decisions with the map on her lap, but alas that is the crux of the matter. We don’t let her forget the many times she has been wrong and god knows she always remembers the once of twice she has actually been right. But as MBC always says, “She may be a pain in the ass, but she’s our pain in the ass and we love her.” Snags, Missy’s husband says, “Speak for your self.”
But directions and adventures is a lot of what our trips to New York City are all about. Much to the horror of some of our more skeptical friends, we use the subways. Almost the first tthing we do when we land in the City is buy the seven day unlimited Metro Pass. ($24.00) This is a deal in that we are moving all about the system. The Pass includes passage on the subway and the bus system.
New York is a city of people that walk. And as a visitor you will too unless you have unlimited money. There are alot of expensive things in New York and a car is at near the top of that list. Only the independent spirit of Americans in other cities allows them to discount and ignore the high price of owning and operating an automobile. Parking and the other ineffciencies of automobiles in the city, help place this problem in clear focus except for those who drive for a living.
Directional disorientation often occurs in the subway. You enter the ground level ramp and walk down. The subways run at defferent levels and often the stairs twist and turn in what appear to be odd angles and directions. With the loss of references, street signs, the sun and landmarks, you are reduced to making sure you are going in the right direction, by relating to the uptown, downtown on the signs. Downtown generally means toward The Battery. Uptown means away from The Battery. The Battery is the southern most tip of Manhatten Island.. Once you get that down cold all you have to do is orientate all of you destinations from a subway station and you’ve got it made, as long as you can fugre out North - South, East -West when you get above ground from the subway. MBC reccomends a compass.
When this unlikely troop is in New York City, we are centered on Times Square. This means that we are more thna likely to take the S train more than one a day. The S train is the shortest subway line in the bunch. It travels from Grand Central Station to Times Square with no other stops. Being as we were staying at the Thirty Thirty the closest subway was the 6. All trips to and from Times Square included a ride on the S. Seamless and flowing travel back and forth required a timed arrival at the S platform. Missing one meant minutes to wait for another one, but somehow that wait seemed to be the longest.
But directions and adventures is a lot of what our trips to New York City are all about. Much to the horror of some of our more skeptical friends, we use the subways. Almost the first tthing we do when we land in the City is buy the seven day unlimited Metro Pass. ($24.00) This is a deal in that we are moving all about the system. The Pass includes passage on the subway and the bus system.
New York is a city of people that walk. And as a visitor you will too unless you have unlimited money. There are alot of expensive things in New York and a car is at near the top of that list. Only the independent spirit of Americans in other cities allows them to discount and ignore the high price of owning and operating an automobile. Parking and the other ineffciencies of automobiles in the city, help place this problem in clear focus except for those who drive for a living.
Directional disorientation often occurs in the subway. You enter the ground level ramp and walk down. The subways run at defferent levels and often the stairs twist and turn in what appear to be odd angles and directions. With the loss of references, street signs, the sun and landmarks, you are reduced to making sure you are going in the right direction, by relating to the uptown, downtown on the signs. Downtown generally means toward The Battery. Uptown means away from The Battery. The Battery is the southern most tip of Manhatten Island.. Once you get that down cold all you have to do is orientate all of you destinations from a subway station and you’ve got it made, as long as you can fugre out North - South, East -West when you get above ground from the subway. MBC reccomends a compass.
When this unlikely troop is in New York City, we are centered on Times Square. This means that we are more thna likely to take the S train more than one a day. The S train is the shortest subway line in the bunch. It travels from Grand Central Station to Times Square with no other stops. Being as we were staying at the Thirty Thirty the closest subway was the 6. All trips to and from Times Square included a ride on the S. Seamless and flowing travel back and forth required a timed arrival at the S platform. Missing one meant minutes to wait for another one, but somehow that wait seemed to be the longest.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Southern Hospitality
It may be that you get a different crowd at the one of the largest art shows in America, but all in all everyone I ran into in at the St. James Court Art show in Louisville, Kentucky represented the stereotypical southern image of politeness in gentility. And please I'm not canonizing these people, but many of us could learn something from them.
Let me start with the hucksters that were working the crowd near us. These folks were trying get prospects for their gutter magician, a system for keeping leaves out of the rain gutters. The approach to the passing customers was to ask them if they had trees in their yard. These people were nice enough and I am sure that my irritation level with them came from the constant repetition that the passer by didn't hear. Believe it or not a common response was, "I don't but thanks for asking." Thanks for asking? I think in Chicago you could get arrested for asking the question, for sure you could get shot. Time after time these folks got a polite and respectful response, for what I perceive as a question that could be ignored or even receive a response of none of your business or don't bother me. The whole approach is the equivalent of a telemarketing call at dinner time, but to these folks it was unthinkable to just hang up.
Waitresses, desk clerks and other service people may be expected to be polite, but these folks put politeness and respect on a level that's hard to duplicate. I didn't hear any crude language and please remember I was less than a mile for University of Louisville and they just lost a football game. I would test my mettle as to cursing and crude language as my Badgers, Cubs and Packer's all lost this weekend. When compared to my new southern friends, I'm afraid my language was a little more unacceptable than "darn".
The ladies seem to regard the event as one that required a modicum of proper dress and their mates and escorts responded appropriately. It seems that team shirts and nylon NASCAR jacket can be replaced for certain occasions. It's not that we didn't see this type of attire, it's just that it wasn't the predominate style of attire for those over twenty-five.
The crowds were tremendous, stressing the wide walkways to the maximum, but people were polite and gracious. I will never know how someone can be walking down a sidewalk jammed with people can suddenly just stop without regard to anyone around them, but I observe this happening all of the time. While many times this results in hard feelings and short remarks, these art lovers not only seemed to understand how a piece they not consider worth stopping to appreciate might be appealing to someone else.
There were 750 artists displaying at this show. There were innumerable little stands that were hi jacking the crowd from the legitimate vendors, by using front yards and alley's to hawk beverages, sandwiches and non-art. The street musicians were scattered throughout the venue adding even more flavor to this visual stew. The experience was not even diminished by the extreme heat.
Tobacco is no longer king in Louisville, UPS is, but the dignity and charm of this city is infectious. Frankly, I can't wait to go back and give my new friends a big hug and a howdy.
Let me start with the hucksters that were working the crowd near us. These folks were trying get prospects for their gutter magician, a system for keeping leaves out of the rain gutters. The approach to the passing customers was to ask them if they had trees in their yard. These people were nice enough and I am sure that my irritation level with them came from the constant repetition that the passer by didn't hear. Believe it or not a common response was, "I don't but thanks for asking." Thanks for asking? I think in Chicago you could get arrested for asking the question, for sure you could get shot. Time after time these folks got a polite and respectful response, for what I perceive as a question that could be ignored or even receive a response of none of your business or don't bother me. The whole approach is the equivalent of a telemarketing call at dinner time, but to these folks it was unthinkable to just hang up.
Waitresses, desk clerks and other service people may be expected to be polite, but these folks put politeness and respect on a level that's hard to duplicate. I didn't hear any crude language and please remember I was less than a mile for University of Louisville and they just lost a football game. I would test my mettle as to cursing and crude language as my Badgers, Cubs and Packer's all lost this weekend. When compared to my new southern friends, I'm afraid my language was a little more unacceptable than "darn".
The ladies seem to regard the event as one that required a modicum of proper dress and their mates and escorts responded appropriately. It seems that team shirts and nylon NASCAR jacket can be replaced for certain occasions. It's not that we didn't see this type of attire, it's just that it wasn't the predominate style of attire for those over twenty-five.
The crowds were tremendous, stressing the wide walkways to the maximum, but people were polite and gracious. I will never know how someone can be walking down a sidewalk jammed with people can suddenly just stop without regard to anyone around them, but I observe this happening all of the time. While many times this results in hard feelings and short remarks, these art lovers not only seemed to understand how a piece they not consider worth stopping to appreciate might be appealing to someone else.
There were 750 artists displaying at this show. There were innumerable little stands that were hi jacking the crowd from the legitimate vendors, by using front yards and alley's to hawk beverages, sandwiches and non-art. The street musicians were scattered throughout the venue adding even more flavor to this visual stew. The experience was not even diminished by the extreme heat.
Tobacco is no longer king in Louisville, UPS is, but the dignity and charm of this city is infectious. Frankly, I can't wait to go back and give my new friends a big hug and a howdy.
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