Month: June 2001

Several weeks ago, Shelby County Commissioner Buck Wellford met with a group of 15 East Memphis Republican women. Their message on the NBA arena: overwhelming opposition.

One week ago, the commission voted 10-2 (Wellford abstained on all NBA votes and debate because his law partner represents NBA NOW) for the new arena in front of a chamber packed with a couple hundred cheering NBA boosters in an apparent show of overwhelming support.

A miraculous turnaround? A seismic shift in sentiment? A grassroots groundswell?

None of the above.

Polls show that Shelby County residents support the NBA arena project by only a narrow margin and that support is hedged by several “only ifs.” The cheering crowd, if not the actual vote, was the product of an NBA-friendly venue and a massive public relations effort by a downtown lobby that has never been stronger. Call it democracy by booster organization.

The gallery was anything but a spontaneous outpouring of support from a cross-section of rabid NBA fans. It consisted mainly of employees of AutoZone, the Memphis Convention and Visitors Bureau, the Center City Commission, the Memphis Area Chamber of Commerce, Archer/Malmo Advertising, and hired lobbyists and attorneys. On the arena vote, NBA NOW proponents had a bigger advantage than Shaquille O’Neill has over the Lakers ballboy in a game of one-on-one.

First, they had home-field advantage. Many of them simply walked a few hundred yards from their offices on Front Street or on the mall. The opponents had to drive downtown and find a place to park. Boosters got paid to play hooky and sit and watch the politicians work; AutoZoners were urged to attend by company founder Pitt Hyde, a proposed co-owner of the Memphis NBA team. The antis were mainly retirees and housewives such as referendum leader Heidi Shafer, whose 3-year-old daughter sat in the aisle of the commission chambers munching snacks. Finally, the downtown boosters hobnob with councilmen and commissioners at social and political functions all the time – – and with each other, for that matter, often serving on one another’s boards and scratching one another’s backs.

With or without a new arena, Memphis can bury that cliché about turning its back on downtown and the river. The booster business has never been better or more lucrative.

At half a dozen quasi-public or nonprofit agencies, top executives make almost as much or more money pitching downtown attractions and development as Mayors Willie Herenton and Jim Rout make ($140,000) for running the whole city and county.

The list includes the Center City Commission, the Memphis Development Foundation (which runs The Orpheum), the Wonders exhibition, the Memphis Convention and Visitors Bureau, the Riverfront Development Corporation, and the Memphis Redbirds Foundation.

Those are just the starting players. Bench strength includes the Memphis Area Chamber of Commerce, with offices on Front Street and a staff that has been very much in evidence during the NBA drive; the twin towers, Jack Belz and Henry Turley; corporate benefactors AutoZone and Storage USA; and advertising firms Archer/Malmo, Thompson and Company, and Conaway Brown, all churning out the good news about downtown.

The long, hard hours that Herenton and Rout and their top aides put into endless meetings and negotiations gave new meaning to the words “government service.” For running Wonders, Dick Hackett makes more than he ever did as mayor. Benny Lendermon makes more as head of the Riverfront Development Commission than he did as city public works director watching over our roads and sewers. Dexter Muller, longtime director of the Office of Planning and Development, last year jumped to the chamber of commerce.

Focus, compensation, and a nice office aren’t the only benefits nonprofits can offer. They also operate with much less public scrutiny than their government counterparts. City council members have been ridiculed and taken to task for running up cell phone bills or requesting $75 for out-of-town meal allowance. Nonprofits, on the other hand, are usually accountable only to their boards. A nonprofit agency is supposed to make its tax form and salaries and expenses readily available for public inspection, but the only local media outlet that has ever reported on them is the Flyer.

Ironically, politicians are responsible for helping the nonprofits thrive. They provide facilities like The Orpheum, The Pyramid, and the Memphis Cook Convention Center as well as direct subsidies and dedicated revenue streams via downtown tax credits or tourism taxes.

After last week’s victory at the county commission, the NBA NOW team and its bandwagon adjourned to the Plaza Club for a celebration. The opponents just went home, vowing to fight again on another day, and, they hope, in another court.

Immigration, civil rights injustice, and stereotyping are all highlighted in the Point of View documentary series beginning its 14th season Tuesday (June 19th) on PBS (WKNO, Channel 10).

“The films we include in this series deal with conversations and issues going on in society today,” P.O.V. executive producer Cara Mertes says. “The series is designed to reach everyone by featuring various filmmakers’ imprints on these issues.”

The films featured this season: Scout’s Honor, My American Girl: A Dominican Story, Of Civil Wrongs and Rights: The Fred Korematsu Story, The Sweetest Sound, True-Hearted Vixens, Take It From Me, La Boda, In the Light of Reverence, Life and Debt and High School.

The films tell the stories of struggling New York women who try to live without welfare, the defense of three Native Americans fighting for their land, and the disturbing effects of economic globalization on developing countries. Some of the filmakers include Tom Shepard, Mylene Moreno, Aaron Matthews, Eric Paul Fournier, Emily Abt and others.

P.O.V. called for entries, and after screening 600 films, a committee of P.O.V. staff and professional filmmakers decided upon the ones most passionate about the contemporary issues.

“It is a rigorous process that takes weeks,” Mertes says. “All of the films are reviewed at least twice before making cuts.”

Alan Berliner, filmmaker of The Sweetest Sound, says he is honored to have his film chosen for the series. Berliner says he would like to think it was chosen because it fulfills the mission that P.O.V. upholds in this series: to have viewers want to change something in their own lives as a result of watching them. Berliner’s film, which explores the meaning of family names, is just one example that challenges the audience to think about their identity in a way they have not thought of it before.

P.O.V. encourages viewers to write them, e-mail them, contact them in any way to get heard their own values, beliefs, and attitudes.

“P.O.V. wants more than anything to create a dialogue with viewers, and it works to everyone’s benefit,” Berliner said. “As a filmmaker, it is so helpful to receive the tremendous feedback I have gotten from my films in the previous P.O.V. series.”

Scout’s Honor, following the fight for gay members to be a part of the Boy Scouts, was chosen for the first film of the series. It has been less than a year since the June 28, 2000, Supreme Court decision excluding openly gay members into the Boy Scouts. Since this trial people have been paying attention to the topic. Mertes says she expects viewers of all ages because each of these films are a different slice of life.

“Each one of these films is a dimension to another world and each sheds light on issues that will most likely transform viewers in one way or another, as well as educate them,” Berliner says.

It’s hit me, finally. I know most Memphians will know exactly what I mean, too. I’ve fallen subject to Elvisism.

Ah, yes. The innocent chit-chatters have afflicted me with a dash of regional discrimination. Any of you who have grown up in “the land of the King,” have, I’m sure, felt it too. Somehow a cultural hero becomes the postcard for an entire population. “You grew up in Memphis? Ah . . . Elvis!”

Are you with me?

Think of it in terms of percentages. How many people have you met randomly and shared the obligatory “so, where are you from” exchange only to be subject to a 15-minute Elvis-loving rampage? You walk away knowing where they were when he died, how fabulous their Elvis costume party was back in 1983, and with a desperate hope that you can find a way to avoid eliciting this sort of information from people that you haven’t known for more than three minutes.

Maybe this is speculative on my part, or exaggerated, since I haven’t really lived in Memphis all that long. But I think, just recently, I’ve discovered exactly what it must be like. I’ll explain with some generalized examples:

Person X: So, where are you from?

Me: New Jersey.

Person X: Oh, “the Sopranos”!

Me: No, um, New Jersey.

Or, sometimes, when I’m just too tired to argue:

Person X: So, where are you from?

Me: (clearing throat, trying to hide nervous tic) New Jersey.

Person X: Oh, the Sopranos!

Me: (sigh) Yeah New Jersey.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not even saying that I don’t like The Sopranos, or Elvis for that matter. But the point is, I grew up in New Jersey, not The Sopranos, and those of you from Memphis didn’t grow up in Elvis.

Rant concluded.

It’s a foregone conclusion that a new tie is inevitable for Father’s Day. If the cravat proffered by an eager set of hands and a smiling face is too narrow and not quite the pattern or color you yourself would choose, don’t despair. A new suit, a ‘bespoke’ suit, will serve to heighten the affection and enthusiasm that went into the selection of your new neckwear.

Mind you, we’re not talking of a new, off the rack suit that Armani or Ralph Lauren can clone out ad infinitum. No, we have in mind a new concept, the Bespoke Suit, exactingly built to your features from one of the last remaining premier tailoring establishments in the civilized world. Your tax bracket should already have made you aware of the enterprise begun by Gieves and Hawkes in the 1770s. However, if your nouveau riche six figure income is one of those dot com triumphs, then a bit of history is in order.

Gieves and Hawkes have been purveyors, in the Bespoke tradition, of gentlemen’s apparel from the days of George III. Originally, two separate firms, Gieves dressed Lord Nelson, while Hawkes outfitted the Duke of Wellington. Possessing Royal Warrants of Appointment for the last 200 years, both firms have been the final word in sartorial excellence to the aristocracy and business magnates of the Empire. Best known for its conservative, staid pinstripe suits for bankers, the now consolidated firm presents clothing that whispers quietly but commandingly of its wearer’s status.

During one of the world’s earliest newspaper-hyped teapot tempests, David Livingstone, dressed by Gieves, became the searched for lost soul in darkest Africa by New York Heraldreporter, Henry Morton Stanley. Livingstone himself was an early media celebrity whose extensive writings and lectures had opened “Darkest Africa” to 19th Century Europe. With great fanfare he returned to explore and locate the headwaters of the Nile River. When the world heard nothing from Livingstone for five years, Stanley, in a charade of a deadline delimited pursuit, was hurriedly dressed by Hawkes and dispatched via steamer through Suez to Lake Tanganyika. Livingstone, who knew fully well where he was, was then “discovered” by this heroic fourth-estate chronicler. At their momentous meeting, each doffed their hats whereupon Stanley uttered his famous interrogatory, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”

Actually, each was quite intent at looking at the label in the other’s hat. Stanley was wearing the famous Hawkes solar campaign helmet. A design so well thought, it was later appropriated by Nazi General Rommel for his Afrika Corps. Livingstone, a man of quiet and taciturn demeanor, reportedly wore a more sedate carapace delivered from Gieves.

Changing economics and tastes resulted in a merger of talents that now reside at a capital address in the heart of the Mayfair District, Number 1 Savile Row. There is an Internet site (gievesandhawkes.com), and, with your acquisition of airline tickets and a place to stay, it is time to commence the journey.

In the truest tradition of the tailored suit, a gentleman is carefully and exactingly measured from all directions. Paper and cardboard patterns are then made that will be referenced to in the design and fit of the bespoke clothing. However, before this task is begun, a meeting with the Bespoke Manager, Matthew A. Cowley, is a first requisite. It is here that this expert in men’s clothing will evaluate and consult, suggest and proffer, that which in style and material will make it quite obvious you are wearing

a Savile Row suit. Comments and input from the spouse are expected and tactfully incorporated.

Realizing that the gentleman is often there only because of the woman behind him, Mr. Cowley and his staff take great pains to diplomatically respond to her concerns.

Towards the attainment of impeccable values in service and craft excellence, there are certain rules of style that will never go obsolete. Your height

will very well determine stripes versus plain, cuffed versus uncuffed and perhaps even single versus double-breasted. Honed by years of experience and a level of sophistication in dealing with those beyond even your pay grade, the Gieves and Hawkes tailor is your ally towards the presentation of your finest image.

There are a few specifics that will ingratiate you with the staff and display your obvious acumen and sophistication. A member of the sales staff will greet you at the door at the time of your fitting appointment. Try to arrive a little early and ask to be shown and told about the Sea Chest. This was a trademark wardrobe storage trunk from the eighteenth century for cadets and officers of the Royal Navy. Their uniforms and under-clothing, often tailored exclusively by Gieves, was stored in this private, inviolate space while at sea.

Next, make mention of your admiration of the Battle of Britain tie. An exclusive of the firm, the tie was designed for and sold only to British airmen who fought in the Battle of Britain. This dark blue neckwear features the rose of England and a tiny outline of the British Isles woven in gold.

The company will sell one only after receiving proof that the purchaser actually fought in this battle.

During the process of measuring you will be asked on which side you ‘dress’. Here again, you astuteness will be appreciated when you answer, ‘right or

left’ depending upon which side of the crotch seam your masculinity naturally resides.

The details of selecting the fabric, linings and buttons will be as carefully considered as the actual building of the suit. One specific characteristic of a true bespoke suit is working cuff buttons. Originally referred to as surgeon’s cuffs, this bit of four-button polish literally permits you to roll up your sleeves preventing needless soiling of the fabric.

Just one final and gentle reminder — You are dealing with an organization skilled at cutting cloth, not at cutting prices. It will cost about $3,600 for a standard suit. It will become a part of your heritage that not only will last longer than you, but also will remain a statement of your

attainment.

The Memphis Flyer brought home two first-place awards from the 2000 Green Eyeshade Awards, held June 9th, in Atlanta. Sponsored by the Atlanta chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ), this competition showcases the best print and broadcast journalism in 11 Southern states.

Senior editor Jackson Baker won first prize in the business reporting category for “Is FedEx Going Postal?” an October 5, 2000, cover story that examined the local company’s relationship with the U.S. Postal Service.

Staff writer Chris Herrington received a first-place award in the general criticism category for his music and film columns.

The Flyer‘s sister publication, Memphis magazine, also received recognition Saturday night. A first-place award went to Vance Lauderdale in the humorous commentary category for “Ask Vance,” his monthly history/trivia column. John Branston, editorial director of special projects, was named a finalist in the non-deadline reporting category for “Hit and Miss,” a February 2000 magazine cover story on Dean and Kristi Jernigan’s role in AutoZone Park.

Other local winners included The Commercial Appeal‘s Bill Day, who picked up a first-place award for editorial cartoons, and the CA‘s Geoff Calkins, named a finalist in the sports reporting category.

This year’s Green Eyeshade Awards drew entries from newspapers, magazines, and television and radio stations throughout the region. The awards are “presented in recognition of an achievement judged to be outstanding among the professional journalists working in Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and West Virginia.”

Recently, a friend of mine told me that the real places to meet people are church and the grocery store.

I’ll be honest; I scoffed. Mostly because, for many of us, not only is a drop of hooch helpful in meeting members of the opposite sex, it’s downright necessary. And as far as I know — granted I haven’t been to services in a while — alcohol is still frowned upon during mass and makes maneuvering a shopping cart rather difficult. So I struck church and grocery store off my list.

(Not that grocery store was ever on my list. I’m a loiterer by nature, frugal by necessity, and haven’t had to really do any math for the last five years. You should see me at the grocery store, I try to do all this multiplication and division in my head to determine which can of corn gives me the most vegetable for my buck. I’m talking, converting ounces to pounds, taking in the type and weight of the packaging, and in general just making a nuisance of myself. (I’d be embarrassed to be seen doing this with a calculator so it takes a really long time)

But then the Saturday after the meeting people at church and the grocery discussion, I needed to pick up a few essentials, mostly every type of cleaning supply imaginable (My apartment has probably been cleaned, oh, once since I moved in … you don’t want to know how long ago). I had just been to the gym and was going to quickly pop in and get the items.

I don’t know what it was, whether it was my tank-top or the post workout glow (I know, that’s gross, but I hadn’t showered) or simply just Saturday afternoon, but suddenly there I was by the laundry detergent and an older guy walked behind me and said hello. I didn’t think he was talking to me, so I didn’t respond.

About five minutes later, as I had moved on and was examining Murphy’s Oil Soap as a cleaning alternative, he came back. Now I’ll be honest, he was probably 60, but he said hello and we talked about Murphy’s Oil soap and then his friend came over and we talked about Murphy’s Oil Soap some more (it really wasn’t that long of a conversation because there isn’t that much you can really say about Murphy’s Oil Soap).

After I had compiled the rest of my cleaning supplies, I got in line for the cashier. She seemed to be having some difficulty making change, and as we waited, the guy in line behind me (a different guy separate of the two others) caught my eye and said, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, “I thinks she’s getting change,” and I gestured with a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke at the cashier. In light of all the conversation about hitting it off at the supermarket, I wondered if he was trying to pick me up or just making conversation.

And then he said — and I swear I am not making this up – “So, do you come here often?”

Is this how it works? Is this how supermarket love matches are made? The same lines used in bars but in a more benign and less alcohol-induced way? I thought later about investigating a la Carrie Bradshaw in Sex in the City, but I decided I didn’t want to. What would I say? “Do you ever meet people in the grocery?” What if they thought I was hitting on them? And what if I wasn’t?(By the way, it’s a sad realization that I’m so not Sex in the City. Those girls are so glam, and they can pick up guys wherever they go, but I’m just not like that).

But it turns out I didn’t have to investigate. Not in the ask questions reporter way at any rate. No, due to a small but perhaps not unforeseeable financial squibble, I’ve not been able to buy in bulk like usual (the product of a big family) but have had to buy my goods day-by-day, on a sort of triage basis.

And in this, I’ve had considerable luck. For instance, in a trip to get flying insect spray and ice cream (both of which I rationalized as necessary expenditures), I happened on a very nice older gentleman in the frozen food aisle. He said, “Hello, there, girlie,” and then introduced me to his wife (Swingers, you ask?), who was 101 years old (Not so much). He himself was a spry young thing of 72. I helped them find the walnut ice cream they wanted.

Then, just today, on a trip to get bread (also a necessary expenditure), a very nice young man told me I had pretty toenails.

It’s not Sex in the City, but at least it’s something.

( Mary Cashiola writes about life every Friday @ memphisflyer.com. You’re invited to come along.)

I could be wrong. It’s happened before. Like the time I interviewed a Mississippi politician named Grover Williams and at the end of the conversation, said, “Why, thank you very much, Mr. Cleveland.” Or the time I was at one of the Brooks Museum’s decorator show houses and stopped in my tracks to stare at a woman wearing a fur coat in the heat of summer, only to realize there was a huge crowd behind me watching as well, because it was a fashion show and I was on the outdoor runway by accident. Or the time I sat for what seemed like an eternity, talking with someone, who obviously knew me very well, unable to remember who he was, only to finally realize that he was my stepbrother. Or like the other day, when I awakened on my front porch swing, where I nap occasionally, and was agog at the fact that someone had ordered a pizza at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning, only to learn that it was actually 7 p.m. Saturday night and I had been asleep for only a few hours. Or like yet another recent day, when I saw a headline in the CA that read, “5 MAKEUP DAYS SET FOR COUNTY SCHOOLS,” and I thought they were finally going to start teaching the kids about the art of cosmetics. Like I said, I could be wrong. And by the time this is printed, I’ll know. But now, on day one of his trip, I’m a little concerned about George W. Bush’s journey to Europe. As if they don’t already have a pretty low opinion of America over there because we elected someone as our president who speaks a language he made up himself and is prone to stomping his cowboy boots when told he can’t allow one of his special-interest groups to blast poisonous air into national forests. This could be the final straw. Let’s just hope he doesn’t thank France for their contribution to the fast food industry by inventing French fries. Pray that he doesn’t make it to Poland and thank them because he did well in the Poles. Hope that if he makes a stop in Amsterdam he doesn’t tell his daughters to be sure and stop at Red Lights. And then there’s the whole issue of his meeting with Vladimir Putin. I may be wrong, as I have been before, but I have a sinking feeling that the pre-meeting interviews will go something like this. Reporter: “Mr. President, how do you feel about Putin?” George: “Well, Putin is a serious problem when it comes to the gas crisis. Putin is, well, you know, something that I have thought about a lot. When I think to think, Putin is right up there with the rest of the world or the planet or Earth. I don’t really believe in Putin, but it’s something that one really can’t think of to ignore. Putin is okay sometimes, but sometimes Putin is wrong. Laura and I don’t allow Putin in the White House, but that’s because of my mother. She simply doesn’t think Putin is acceptable. She’s against Putin and she’s my mother and she can read and everything, so I guess I should take a stand like her on Putin.” Or something like that. At any rate, it should be interesting to see what kind of impression the beady-eyed wonder makes on his trip to visit all the foreign leaders whose names he had to learn while running for office. Or maybe not. I really don’t care.