Categories
Sports Sports Feature

THE SCOOP ON SPORTS

GRIZZLES EXCITED ABOUT CAMP & REBUILDING

Have you been downtown lately? If you have you can see them from a mile away, and if you haven’t just get in your car and drive down fourth Street about a block south of Beale Street and you will see three cranes towering high in the sky above the New Memphis Arena while construction crews work feverishly to build a new Den for the Grizzlies.

Meanwhile, about a mile away on the north end of downtown inside the Pyramid, the new commitment to rebuilding a winning team for fans in Memphis also continues. In training camp Jayson Williams races down court and throws a no-look pass to Drew Gooden who slams it down for two points, and on the other end of the court Wesley Person is camped behind the three-point arc knocking down shots as if its mid season.

It’s simply this building or rebuilding project includes 20 NBA Players working out for only 12 jerseys. And for Jerry West, Grizzlies president of basketball operations, having more talented players on the training camp roster is the first step toward creating an atmosphere where competition breeds success and at the same time players bid for starting jobs on the court.

“I just think in environments where teams haven’t had a lot of success it’s not good for players to come to training camp and think they’ve got a job made,” said West. Another ingredient West employs in training camp for molding the Grizzlies into a team destined for a successful NBA season is bringing in several talented players at every position in effort to intensify workouts. “Particularly in the back court were hopeful that we can build and they will come here and become a cohesive unit where were able to win,” said West.

Grizzlies head coach Sidney Lowe is impressed with the quality of athletes who are taking part in the 20 man 20 day preseason training camp. “I am excited with our training camp,” says Lowe. “Jerry (West) has brought in some additional talent that we needed at key positions. We should have some good competition during camp to earn positions and quality playing time for the upcoming season.”

Another interesting addition during the off-season as part of the rebuilding project is Drew Gooden, the 6’10” former Kansas All-American and NBA lottery pick 4th overall who the Grizzlies highly coveted and believe has the upside to make an impact right away.

“He’s got a bright future here,” said West. “Somebody that I think our coach wouldn’t mind putting him into games and playing him right away which would be a plus for us.”

If you would like to see the Grizzlies’ rebuilding project yourself get in your car on Saturday, October 5th and drive downtown past the new area and you will see the three sky high cranes, then proceed to the Pyramid and enjoy the Grizzlies free public scrimmage including performances by team mascot Grizz and the Grizzlies Dance Team.

Keep in mind all seating is available on a first-come, first-serve basis and, to reiterate, the game is free for everyone. Doors open at 9:00 a.m. and tip-off is set for 9:30 a.m.

Categories
Opinion

Alphabet Soup

The alphabet agencies are about to catch a little flak from the Memphis City Council.

The spark that set off the council’s fire was the Memphis Convention and Visitors Bureau’s (CVB) hiring of former Shelby County mayoral aide Tom Jones less than a month after Jones was suspended for using a county credit card for personal items. When Jones was not reappointed by new county mayor A C Wharton, the CVB and its president, Kevin Kane, snapped him up.

Jones will be doing a job in community development that did not previously exist at the CVB. The Commercial Appeal reported that his salary will be approximately $100,000, but Kane said last week it is not that much.

Kane attended Tuesday’s council committee meeting where the issue of “quasi-governmental agencies” was pressed most forcibly by council members TaJuan Stout Mitchell and John Vergos. Kane noted that the CVB wasn’t created by the city or county and has gotten “not one penny from the general tax fund in 20 years.” It does, however, get a dedicated revenue stream from the so-called bed tax on hotel rooms.

The council committee unanimously approved a resolution requiring the “quasis” to regularly provide information about budgets and expenses. The list of agencies is yet to be compiled, but members indicated it will include the CVB, Center City Commission (CCC), Riverfront Development Corporation (RDC), Memphis in May, the Memphis Regional Chamber of Commerce, and The Orpheum.

Mitchell said she wasn’t singling out the CVB or Jones but felt the job should have been posted because “there are a lot of folks looking for jobs and people need to know where the opportunities are.” She said she didn’t care if “Donald Trump or Donald Duck” gets the job.

“This is just a request for information,” she said. “It does not imply that someone will lose funds.”

Vergos said some of the agencies are “creating kingdoms” run by a handful of well-connected board members who are hostile to requests for sensitive information but quick to run to the council in time of need.

“They want to all act as if they are independent private corporations,” he said, noting that his father, Rendezvous founder Charlie Vergos, was instrumental in setting up both the CVB and the Memphis Development Foundation, which runs The Orpheum.

Turf and jealousy may be factors with the council as well. The alphabet agencies have been grabbing a lot of headlines, and the pay and perks are usually better than they are in government. The city council gets the heat, a modest salary, some of the bills, and a supporting role. Top executives at the quasis tend to be consummate government insiders or, like Jones, former top-level government employees. In recent years, three city and county division directors have moved over to alphabet agencies — Benny Lendermon and John Conroy at the RDC and Dexter Muller at the chamber of commerce.

Neither Kane nor council members were particularly happy with the term “quasi-governmental agencies.” In addition to being a mouthful, it lumps together agencies like the RDC and CCC that were created by elected public officials and organizations like the CVB and chamber of commerce that get most of their operating support from their members.

The resolution adds to the confusion by making it seem that divisions of city government are the target. It says “each division of the City of Memphis that is either dependent on city funds or the approval of same shall provide the Memphis City Council and the chief administrative officer of the city of Memphis copies of their enabling legislation, annual report, 10K form, and personnel policies and procedures” each year.

A handier and more accurate catch-all is “nonprofits,” although that has an outdated “food baskets to the needy” connotation. All of the groups the council is interested in are nonprofits, and they are already required by the IRS to file and make readily available to the public an annual Form 990 listing their public purpose, top salaries and benefits, budget, and income and expenses.

Nonprofit organizations, specially created authorities, and quasi-governmental agencies have virtually taken over much of downtown, including the public parks on the riverfront, AutoZone Park, the new NBA arena, The Orpheum, Memphis in May, and dozens of office buildings and apartments to which the CCC’s Revenue Finance Corporation holds title, so they can get tax freezes.

Councilman Jack Sammons pointed out that many nonprofit board members serve for altruistic reasons, bring special skills and fresh ideas to the table, and “would be glad to provide us this information.”

This is not the first time the accountability issue has surfaced. During the NBA arena debate, state Senator John Ford, a member of the Public Building Authority, argued that the authority and, by extension, the arena could not exist without the enabling legislation and support of the state legislature. Elected officials have made similar comments about the CCC, with the result that several of them now serve on the board.

Vergos said having a city council representative or other elected official on the board of the quasi-governmental agencies doesn’t solve the accountability problem if the board is “stagnant” and run by a handful of insiders.

Categories
News The Fly-By

City Reporter

11-month Foreplay

Despite protests, sex shop finally opens in Cordova.

By Mary Cashiola

Sometimes, when you want something, all you have to do is ask.

With satin skivvies in the window and a small green “OPEN” sign announcing their change in status, the adult-novelty store Christal’s opened in Cordova Friday after an 11-month delay.

The controversial store planned to open late last year but was denied an occupancy permit by the county’s codes-enforcement office because Christal’s had more than 5 percent “adult novelty” items in its inventory.

“Someone asked a real simple question,” said James Noblitt, regional manager of the store, of the recent events. “I think it was our lawyer. He said, ‘How do we get reinspected?’ They said we just had to reapply. As soon as they said that, I was at the office the next day.” He reapplied Monday, was approved Thursday, and the store opened Friday.

After the November inspection, the staff tried to get within the 5 percent range, but a permit inspection in December was also denied. The Colorado-based company then took the city to court over the matter. The case in Circuit Court is still pending. Noblitt couldn’t comment on the ongoing litigation or what changes they made in the store to meet code.

“See all my protesters?” Noblitt asked, pointing to the empty sidewalk. As of Friday afternoon, the store had about 20 customers, some buying, some “just curious,” according to Noblitt. When Christal’s tried to open last year, it had some very vocal opponents in the Cordova community, including city councilman Brent Taylor.

“If you don’t like what we sell, don’t shop here,” said Noblitt. “You shouldn’t decide for this entire community that they can’t shop here. If you want to, you should be able to. We’re not pulling anyone in by their hair.”

Christal’s had three other stores in the Memphis area (one has since closed) when the company decided to open another store on Germantown Parkway. “We went scouting for property, and we found this,” said Noblitt. “I know there’s a market here for this stuff.”

In Noblitt’s 17 years in the industry, he says he’s seen adult-novelty items go both more upscale and more mainstream.

While waiting to open, the store sat fully stocked with merchandise: lingerie, creams, gels, Kama Sutra kits. Noblitt said he can’t estimate how much money the company lost on the stocked merchandise or the rent and utilities for the space. The store is not fully staffed, and Friday there were some cobwebs still clinging to the ceiling. The big maroon “Christal’s — The Fun Starts Here” sign, once mounted on the facade of the building, sits in the middle of the sales floor. It’s too big to meet code regulations.

“Come back later,” said Noblitt. “We should be here. I don’t know why we wouldn’t. Then again, I don’t know why we couldn’t open 10 months ago.”

Signs and Space

School board debates the cost of signage and office space.

By Mary Cashiola

With some schools needing money for falling ceiling tiles and leaky toilets, a Memphis City Schools (MCS) Capital Improvement Program (CIP) committee decided to hold off on installing exterior signs at new schools.

The signage package, which would cost the district almost $244,700 and would include directional signs for 18 schools, was pulled from the board’s agenda at the last regular board meeting because of questions about the cost.

“Is it important that we do it right now? Why would we spend this money on signage when we have some problems that are more severe at other schools?” asked Commissioner Wanda Halbert at the CIP committee meeting last week.

John Williams, director of the division of facility planning, called it a “quantitative budgetary decision” and said that “[signage] is an integral part of the facility. To me, it’s no different than leaving off a light fixture.”

With bids usually good for 60 days, the committee decided to hold off on the proposal. At the same time, Commissioner Sara Lewis acknowledged that she had some trouble recently finding her way around A.B. Hill School and that they probably needed the signs.

“If we don’t do it,” she said, “it’s going to be symbolic. In looking at our budget, $244,000 isn’t that much money. We’ve got to put something out there to identify those schools.”

The decision comes at a time when commissioners are carefully watching the district’s budgets. Last week, the board approved almost $50,000 to rent offices in East Memphis for its division of facility planning. The district took over the space from Parsons-Fleming, the company contracted to work with the district on its CIP needs. After the Parsons-Fleming contract expired, MCS staff planned to assume the lease until March 2003, when the division would move to newly renovated offices in the MCS central administration building.

Some commissioners wondered if the division could have moved somewhere less pricey in the interim. Both Lewis and Halbert believed that there was enough room in the central administration building for the 12-person division, but there have been conflicting reports about how many employees the district has working.

“I want to know who is out there. You say there are 12 people in the division. I see one, two, three people out there,” Lewis said at the meeting, counting from a list on a piece of paper. “All the other positions are vacant. I don’t understand that.”

Williams said that five people who previously worked with Parsons-Fleming are now contract employees for MCS. Lewis told him she understood the explanation but that “it doesn’t satisfy me. It’s okay. I know how to deal with it. I’ll just write a resolution.”

Music Silenced

Mars closes one year after opening.

A Memphis music superstore closed its doors Monday, following the company’s filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

The Fort Lauderdale-based musical- instrument retailer Mars Music posted signs at 888 South White Station Road informing customers that the “store is closed and will not reopen.” Also listed are contact numbers for anyone holding instrument rentals, music lessons, and gift cards.

“[Mars] would like to thank the musicians in the Memphis area for their business,” said Christine Chalovich, Mars’ marketing vice president. “Long term, [Memphis] would have been a great market. We will miss it.”

Chalovich said any customer with outstanding business will be taken care of, either through another store or through a customer-service Web site.

Mars, called “the Wal-Mart of music stores,” opened its first store in 1997 and eventually had branches in 20 states. The Memphis store is one of four closing, according to company officials. Others include one store in Michigan and two in Massachusetts. The other Tennessee store, located in Nashville, will remain open.

The Memphis store in Eastgate Shopping Center, which opened in November 2001, was the chain’s 50th store. The 18,000-square-foot store boasted below-standard prices and offered music lessons and instrument repair. The chain still has 37 stores in operation.

Much of the local inventory will be sold at a public auction Monday, October 7th, at 10 a.m. at the Memphis store.

Without a Trace

Midtown family is mystified by man’s disappearance.

By Bianca Phillips

“Missing: Christopher Cook. Description: 5’11”, gray hair and mustache, 54 years old, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a T-shirt and jeans, and white running shoes.” That’s the description Midtown resident Cindie Cook has given for her husband, who hasn’t been seen for more than two weeks.

On Saturday, September 14th, the Cooks attended the Cooper-Young Festival amid the bustle of the locals who swarmed the historic district on that sunny day. Cindie Cook said they were having a good time, and she had no idea that her normally peace-loving husband would soon join the ranks of missing persons.

Around 9 p.m. that evening, Cindie was on the phone with her son and daughter, who live near their mother’s home in the Gilmore Courtyard apartments at Madison and McLean. Shelby, 24, and Paul, 28, were taking turns talking to their mother when Christopher, a normally quiet man, turned from watching TV and began to say mean, out-of-character things to his wife.

“I saw the switch in his eyes,” said Cindie. “It was like seeing a whole different person. I just wanted to calm him down and get him back to himself.”

She put the phone down but purposefully didn’t hang up, so the kids would hear what was going on. They rushed over to help calm their stepfather, but Christopher began yelling at Shelby when she entered. He then took off, running out of the apartment, and no one has seen him since.

Cindie has filed a missing-persons report with the Memphis Police Department and has placed posters (left) around Midtown, and Shelby drives around looking for him every day. Cook hasn’t showed up or called his employers at Christie Cut Stone since his disappearance.

“He could be in Montana by now, for all I know. We don’t ever really hang out anywhere. We just sit at home, so I don’t think he’s in Midtown,” said Cindie. “There are only two people he ever talks to regularly, and they say they haven’t heard from him.”

Cook left home on foot. He doesn’t own a car. He has no credit cards or bank accounts, and his driver’s license lists the wrong address. “I honestly believe Chris is sick or hurt but may not appear so,” said Cindie. She says his episode was completely unlike him, and she’s not angry with him because she feels that something was wrong with him.

“He’s a very sweet man. He’s a Buddhist, and he’d give a homeless person his last cent,” she said.

Anyone with any information about Christopher Cook should call Cindie Cook at (901) 649-4913.

Categories
Cover Feature News

The Soul of Southern Film

Entering its fifth year, the Indie Memphis Film Festival may be the most successful of the growing number of local film fests, but it’s still a baby on the circuit. By contrast, the Nashville Independent Film Festival celebrated its 33rd anniversary this summer. But Indie Memphis is a comer.

The festival took a big step last year, moving from its cozy Overton Park digs to Beale Street and expanding its selection. The festival was a hit with locals and out-of-towners both, transforming its impact from merely fostering local film to also significantly enhancing the viewing options of local film fans. The festival, dubbed “The Soul Of Southern Film,” seeks to keep its momentum this year when it moves to a different downtown location, Muvico’s Peabody Place theaters, for the October 3rd through 6th festival.

The transition to Muvico from the makeshift theaters in Beale Street clubs should provide a more professional presentation for the approximately 100 films slated to be screened as well as eliminate the problem of sound bleed that the festival experienced last year. But festival coordinator Will O’Loughlen (a filmmaker whose documentary Small Timers is a previous Indie Memphis winner) admits that the move is a trade-off: What the festival gains in professionalism, it could lose in the kind of street-culture ambience that encouraged pre- and post-screening mingling.

The festival was moved from its traditional summer time slot to fall to accommodate Muvico’s programming needs, a move that O’Loughlen says he welcomed, since it gave him more time to program and local filmmakers more time to fine-tune projects.

The festival will screen nearly 100 films over four days on three Muvico screens — national and local, features and documentaries, full-length films and shorts, all with some connection to the South. The festival has scaled back what was a rewarding but poorly attended symposium last year (a component O’Loughlen says is still a part of the festival’s future goals) in favor of an opening panel discussion, “Rednecks, Hillbillies, and Celluloid Clintons: Hollywood’s Inventions Of the South,” which will kick off the fest at 5 p.m. Thursday and feature University of Memphis professor Allison Graham and The Poor & Hungry director Craig Brewer, among others.

The festival has also ruffled a few feathers locally by not accepting all local entries for competition — a first. “I’ve drawn a lot of fire from local filmmakers about this,” O’Loughlen says, “but the festival is five years old, and it’s going to be harder and harder to get films in. The film community isn’t just filmmakers. It’s also the people who attend. We’ve got a responsibility to both to put the best stuff on the screen.” O’Loughlen also says that the screening committee — made up of members of parent arts organization Delta Axis, board members of the Shelby County Film and Television Commission, and other film enthusiasts — took previous screenings into account in selecting local films for competition.

One result, O’Loughlen admits, of the festival’s Southern focus is that it makes programming more of a challenge, necessarily narrowing the group of films the festival can work from.

The result this year seems to be an extremely strong slate of documentaries but a relatively weak slate of features, especially compared to last year, when the critically acclaimed George Washington screened out of competition. The highest-profile national feature is Changing Hearts (7 p.m. Friday and Sunday), a comedy filmed in Nashville starring Faye Dunaway, Lauren Holly, and Tom Skerritt. Changing Hearts was one of the feature attractions at the Nashville Independent Film Festival earlier this year and is screening out of competition at Indie Memphis.

Changing Hearts may well be an exception, but generally speaking, if a film boasts recognizable, usually B-list “stars” and Hollywood-quality production values, there’s a reason it doesn’t have distribution and is hitting small film festivals: Chances are it’s a straight-to-video/straight-to-cable type of film. O’Loughlen insists that this isn’t always the case, that some of these films just haven’t gotten the right opportunity and that a festival needs to balance star-driven films with less identifiable fare — and he’s right on both counts. But the national features screening at this year’s festival still bear out the theory: Briar Patch (7:30 p.m. Saturday, 7 p.m. Sunday), a Southern Gothic tale in which Dominique “Lolita” Swain traipses around backwoods avoiding abusive, marijuana-growing husband Henry “E.T.” Thomas, and The Killer Next Door (7 p.m. Friday, 3 p.m. Sunday), in which Lando Calrissian teams up with Winnie from The Wonder Years for a Rear Window retread that clumsily tries to tap into serial-killer chic, might give straight-to-video a bad name. Far better are a couple of films with a less showy pedigree. The flower-shop mockumentary Making Arrangements (7 p.m. Thursday, 1 p.m. Sunday) is a likable little film that investigates a rarely explored subculture, investing its ethnography with some gentle humor. And the Austin-produced feature Cicadas (11:30 a.m. Saturday) is the best national feature that was available for prescreening, a sensitive yet tough tale of a rather put-upon teenage girl and the siblings and friends who orbit her. The film features a winningly natural performance from lead actress Lindsay Broockman that is something of a revelation.

What follows is a more in-depth critical guide to the feature-length documentaries and local films Indie Memphis is offering this year, with a sidebar from Local Beat columnist Andria Lisle on some of the fest’s music-oriented offerings.

documentaries

Mai’s America

Originally aired earlier this year as part of public television’s P.O.V. series, Mai’s America (5 p.m. Friday) is a culture clash that cuts both ways: It allows us to see American and Southern culture as refracted through the lens of its protagonist, pixieish Hanoi high-schooler Mai, who travels to America on an exchange program for her senior year. While Mai’s America doesn’t turn out to be quite the one she anticipated, her stranger-in-a-strange-land experience also alters her view of her native Vietnam.

Director Marlo Poras first situates Mai in her middle-class Hanoi milieu, tracking her as she breezes down the city’s bustling streets via moped past giant posters of American entertainment icons (Stallone, Monroe, Schwarzenegger) and less fortunate kids her age who polish shoes all day for rice money. Mai lives in a hotel owned by her father and envisions an America seen in movies. What she gets is rural Mississippi — with all the religious, racial, and cultural issues that implies. (For example, Mai befriends a young gay man, with whom she seems to share a kinship as an outsider, but is still too intimidated by social pressures to invite him to the prom.)

Mai, like her classmates, is a child of the Vietnam War generation –her dad drove a tank and fought against American soldiers. We learn that, back in Hanoi, it is called the “American War,” and Mai and her classmates are taught to be proud of a country of poor rice farmers who fought against the richest, most powerful nation in the world. In her voice-over narration, Mai muses, eloquently, about how lucky she and her American classmates are to have been born after the war.

The lasting imprint of the American War also figures prominently in Mai’s meetings with Vietnamese immigrants in Mississippi, whose clinging to their native culture seems to reflect an antebellum Vietnam far removed from the country and culture Mai knows.

Though the ghosts of conflict linger, Mai’s America is perhaps most fascinating for the function Mai serves as a sort of unintentional de Tocqueville, her sincere confusion over American (and Southern) class distinctions and racial stereotypes transformed into deadpan cultural insight.

In the end, Mai tries to stay in America for college (initially getting a partial scholarship to Tulane) rather than return to a country that affords “no minimum wage, no welfare, no ‘security’ numbers.” But the money runs out, leaving Mai performing pedicures for patronizing WASPs alongside other Vietnamese immigrants in Detroit, a fate rhyming with that of the shoeshine boys she seemed so above back in Hanoi and confirming her clear conclusion about her two countries: “In Vietnam, it takes so much time to make one dollar, and in America, it takes no time to spend it.”

Horns and Halos

This intimate documentary (9 p.m. Friday, 3 p.m. Sunday) follows the partnership of two rather unlikely characters in one equally unlikely common cause.

Arkansas ex-con and author of quickie bios on second-tier celebrities such as Patrick Stewart and Ewan McGregor, J.H. Hatfield became a cause célèbre in 1999 when St. Martin’s Press published Fortunate Son, his biography of then-presidential candidate George W. Bush, a book that was the first to allege that Bush had been arrested for cocaine possession in 1972.

The book created a minor stir until a Texas reporter discovered that Hatfield had served time on murder-conspiracy charges, prompting St. Martin’s to pull the book from the shelves. The film picks up Hatfield’s story a few weeks later, in the tenement basement offices of self-styled punk publisher Soft Skull Press and its founder, 29-year-old Sander Hicks, who is attempting to republish the book.

Horns and Halos offers a penetrating look at the seedy, shoestring world of underground publishing and, in a larger sense, the difficulty that marginal culture has in contesting or impacting mainstream culture (an apt subject for a festival devoted to independent film).

The film puts big questions on the table that it never fully explores — the eventual insistence (at a shaky press conference at the 2001 Book Expo of America) that Hatfield’s source for the cocaine allegation was Bush political adviser Karl Rove and the implication that the tip was misinformation designed to discredit the rest of the book. But the film’s tracking of Hicks’ and Hatfield’s attempts to get Fortunate Son back in stores is tempered and grounded by interviews with such figures as Pete Slover, the Dallas journalist who first uncovered Hatfield’s past, and media critic Mark Crispin Miller, who defends the book.

In Hatfield, the film has a great, tragic, shadowy character to follow — but one who commits suicide three weeks after that tumultuous press conference.

American Standoff

Celebrated documentarian Barbara Kopple explored labor organizing in the coal-mining and meat-packing industries, respectively, in Harlan County, U.S.A. and American Dream. In the HBO production American Standoff (1:30 p.m. Saturday, 1 p.m. Sunday), which Kopple produced, the lens is turned on the transportation industry — specifically, the attempt by employees of trucking firm Overnite Transportation to join the Teamsters and negotiate a union contract — but aimed at an even bigger issue: the state of organized labor itself.

The film opens with a prologue about the heyday of the Teamsters, under the control of controversial Jimmy Hoffa, and the union’s subsequent decline — from 2.4 million to 1.4 million members and a 1989 government takeover to flush out mob influences.

The film picks up in 1999 at the Teamsters’ presidential inauguration of Hoffa’s son, James P. Hoffa, who decides that Overnite will be his top priority –a proving ground for the Teamsters and a battlefield over the question “Do American workers still have the right to organize?”

One of Hoffa’s right-hand men, organizer John Murphy (a childless divorcé who means it when he says the union is his life) thinks it will be a three-week strike. But Overnite’s parent company, Union Pacific, has deep pockets and, seemingly, the willingness to do “whatever it takes” to keep the union out.

Three weeks stretch into three months into two years, until the film ends with 600 workers still out on strike and Union Pacific having spent more than $100 million to stop the union. Along the way, American Standoff introduces us to some unforgettable people: Joe Reeves, a third-generation Overnite driver in Atlanta who leads the fight after seeing other longtime workers mistreated; Hope Hampelman, a single mom five times over and Chicago-based driver; and Mike Ferriolo, a Long Island dockworker who goes on strike after a co-worker is injured on the job and then fired.

Spanning two years and several locations, including Memphis, American Standoff offers a bleak but not hopeless portrait of a labor movement struggling to regain power amid ever more powerful corporations and an ever less responsive government.

The Rest: The Wilco doc I Am Trying To Break Your Heart (midnight Friday), which will get a proper local release later this fall, may be the festival’s most high-profile attraction. The sharp, sepia-toned black-and-white film documents the recording and mixing of the band’s recent, highly acclaimed album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and the subsequent, now infamous record-company flap that it inspired. The film also includes material on the dismissal of band member Jay Bennett, concert footage of the band and leader Jeff Tweedy solo.

One of the most popular selections at the Nashville Independent Film Festival held earlier this year, Injurious George (1:30 p.m. Friday) follows the case of one of Nashville’s most notorious criminals, the Foot-stomper, a man with “an overwhelming compulsion to stomp women’s feet,” who is accused of so accosting more than 100 Nashville women. Director Demetria Kalodimos spends the first half of the film recounting the Stomper’s story through interviews with related parties and Thin Blue Line-style reenactments. Then, unexpectedly, she tracks down the Stomper himself, a man named George Mitchell who fled the city after his last arrest in 1985 and who has since overcome his problem.

Other docs include the highly regarded The Rough South Of Larry Brown (5:15 p.m. Saturday, 5 p.m. Sunday), a study of the life and work of the Oxford-based author, the Tennessee-produced Fans and Freaks (10 a.m. Friday), a look at the culture of comics and science-fiction conventions, and a couple of culinary-based entries, Southern Stews and Carolina Hash (at a joint screening, 10 a.m. Friday).


local

Natural Selection

After screening to an overflow crowd at the MeDiA Co-op Digital Film Festival earlier this year, this new work from local film fixture Craig Brewer (The Poor & Hungry) gets a second public showing, out of competition, at Indie Memphis this week (4 p.m. Saturday).

Natural Selection is Brewer’s first completed work since The Poor & Hungry exploded on the local film scene a couple of years ago but isn’t to be confused with that film’s true follow-up, Hustle and Flow, a multimillion-dollar-budgeted Southern rap-themed film Brewer hopes to begin shooting for Universal Pictures offshoot Focus Features in January.

More of a side project, Natural Selection (which also features a fine score from local musician Ron Franklin) was born out of a class on film acting Brewer was teaching at the University of Memphis. After spending the first half of the class working on acting exercises with his class of novice or theater-trained actors, Brewer decided that the best way to learn was by doing and spent the semester break writing a script that incorporated all of his students, using the second half of the semester to shoot the film.

What was intended as a short was expanded to 40 minutes, with the rhythm, pacing, and snappy story construction of a good television pilot. The film, which begins in a biology classroom and spirals outward from there, wittily and sharply contrasts the study of the interaction of parasites and microorganisms in class with the intersecting relationships of its characters. Each and every one of Brewer’s students delivers a fine performance, but the film motors along on Brewer’s whip-smart but never pretentious dialogue and the ease and economy with which he intertwines the lives of so many characters in such a brief amount of screen time.

For Brewer, who had spent the bulk of his time since The Poor & Hungry polishing his own scripts and doctoring others (along with producing a slate of short films that showed last year at Indie Memphis) while awaiting the start of production on Hustle and Flow, the project was a way of getting his filmmaking juices flowing again.

“I was so proud of them,” Brewer says of his students, “and thankful, because I was so down that I hadn’t produced anything in such a long time. I was getting worried I’d become a filmmaker in a state of petition — waiting for the studio to let me make a movie.” Now, Brewer says he is determined to create a two-pronged career for himself, making larger-budget films for studios, which naturally entails compromise, and making locally shot digital films, à la The Poor & Hungry, basically for himself. Along these lines, Brewer is mulling over what he considers a “seasonal” series of films he’s calling Bluff City Chronicles, the first of which he hopes to shoot between now and the start of production on Hustle and Flow. Inspired by European art cinema, particularly the work of late master Krzysztof Kieslowski (The Decalogue, the “Three Colors” trilogy), Brewer says these new films will be a departure from the tight plotting that marks The Poor & Hungry and Hustle and Flow.

For local viewers who’ve seen The Poor & Hungry and wonder what the filmmaker’s been up to since, Natural Selection is conclusive proof that Brewer’s stellar debut was no fluke.

The Rest: A 40-minute documentary on a local drag performer, Star Queen: A Star Is Bored (5:45 p.m. Friday), takes on a potentially fascinating subject but does very little with it. Star Queen herself is a commanding screen presence, but the film relies too much on talking-head interviews and skimps on performance footage that would have given the film more juice. In fact, most of the performance footage is without sound. The film also fails to really explicate the central story — Star Queen’s falling-out with traditional drag venues and her attempt to reinvent her career through appearances at nontraditional venues as well as her seemingly controversial place within the local drag scene and gay community. What could have been an illuminating and entertaining peek at a little-seen subculture falls short because it assumes viewers are more familiar with the drag scene than they might be. It has the feel of a film made for its own coterie rather than a general audience.

Better is Where We’re Bound (11:30 a.m. Saturday), a documentary travelogue produced by members of the MeDiA Co-op, in which four Memphians take a video camera on a November 2001 trip from Memphis to New York to interview strangers along the way and check the pulse of the country post-9/11. Any self-indulgence that results is mitigated by the crew’s on-screen consideration of the role their own subjectivity will play in coloring the film, and the result is a responsible, compassionate, and highly watchable meditation on the uncertain mood of the country. The filmmakers’ sharp use of found music is also a highlight.

The three local features being shown in competition are clearly novice works but are not without interest. The most slickly accomplished of the lot is probably The Path Of Fear (9:30 p.m. Thursday), a promising effort from young East Memphis filmmakers Brad Ellis and Joey Watson. The film, which opens with an Edgar Allen Poe line — “Is all that we see or seem/But a dream within a dream?” — is basically a psychological horror film. When a psychology professor says to his class, “No, people, think deeper. This isn’t some slasher film,” he doubles as filmmaker speaking to audience, and though the line may be presumptuous, it isn’t far from the truth. The Path Of Fear features solid performances from its three young lead actresses (Marie-Claire Hardy, Julianne Dowler, and Natalie Jones), all University of Memphis students, and conveys a nice feel for its high-school-to-college milieu. Local musicians Will DeShazo and Jared Rawlison of the band Dora offer a fine, atmospheric score.

The lengthy, ambitious Someday Central (7:30 p.m. Saturday), directed by Brett Cantrell, who has screened short films at previous Indie Memphis festivals, may be a bit too personal for its own good (piling on about five layers of eccentricity when two would suffice), but it does an admirably convincing job of bringing its not-quite-real world to life. The film also inspires considerable sympathy for its protagonist, a mute young man named Scarecrow Sullivan, who was struck by lightning as a baby and has been similarly unlucky ever since and who pines for his sister-in-law.

The final local feature in competition is General Sessions (12:30 p.m. Friday), a process-oriented, day-in-the-life report on the workings of the Shelby County General Sessions Court. The film, which follows two attorneys — one a veteran returning to the Public Defender’s office from private practice, the other fresh out of law school — has the feel of TV drama, following its protagonists through a day in the system as they juggle cases. But the film is oddly devoid of any dramatic intrigue, resulting in an almost documentary-style look that devotes too much screen time to court procedures in which papers are shuffled and people stand around but nothing interesting happens.

Throughout the festival, other local shorts will be shown, as well as local films of all stripes, as part of an out-of-competition local-film series that will be conducted in the MPL Screening Room.


films with a beat

by andria lISLE

In addition to the Wilco feature I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, there are a handful of good music movies showing at this week’s Indie Memphis Film Festival. From blues, soul, and gospel to rap and rock-and-roll, the Memphis scene is well represented with shorts and feature-length documentaries.

Robert Gordon, author of the Muddy Waters biography Can’t Be Satisfied, weighs in with a documentary film of the same title (1 p.m. Saturday), which takes a look back at the late blues man’s life. The film features interviews with Keith Richards and Jimmy Lee Robinson as well as the debut of archival Super-8 footage from amateur filmmaker and Howlin’ Wolf drummer Sam Lay. Don’t miss Muddy’s scorching version of “Hoochie Coochie Man,” an earth-shaking moment in the film.

Filmed entirely in Super 8, David Combs’ The Source (part of a shorts pprogram, 9 p.m. Friday) is an 18-minute look at the music and culture of the Mississippi Delta. Loosely put together, The Source plays like any meandering trip to the Delta might, stopping in at juke joints, churches, and graveyards to pay tribute to area blues men. Clarksdale native (and Rooster Blues recording artist) James “Super Chikan” Johnson gets some camera time, playing his unique “Chikantar” — made from an Army-surplus gas can — while teenage guitar whiz Vanessia Young lays down some gritty licks for the camera.

Then there are the music videos: Mike McCarthy’s video for 201’s “Get Loose Wid It” (part of a shorts program, 4 p.m. Friday) features the rap group hamming it up outside Willie Mitchell’s Royal Recording Studio on Lauderdale Street in South Memphis and in Mitchell’s backyard pool out east. Geoffrey Brent Shrewsbury skews the local rap scene with his parody group Rapitition’s “Still In the Midtown Groove” (also 4 p.m. Friday), which stars Midtowner Matt “Pappy” Johnson as an erstwhile rapper, hula-hoop girls, and a cast of dozens. Run, don’t walk, to the showing of this three-minute opus and his music videos for Vegas Thunder and the Lost Sounds (part of a shorts program, 10 a.m. Saturday).

The NARAS-produced Sounds Of Memphis (2:30 p.m. Friday), directed by Jeff Scheftel, provides a great overview of the Memphis music scene from Sun to Stax, while Andrew Leggett’s Lucero: Bright Stars On Lonesome Nights (11 p.m. Friday) focuses on one of Memphis’ best bands. Both films neatly bookend the local music scene.

While it has no local connection, Joel Katz’s Strange Fruit (6 p.m. Saturday) is another must-see. “Music has always gone along with great movements,” civil rights veteran Dr. C.T. Vivian proclaims early in the feature-length documentary, which covers the background and legacy of the song of the same name made famous by Billie Holiday. The film moves from African-American lynchings to the Red Scare and the civil rights movement, with commentaries from jazz singer Abbey Lincoln, poet Amiri Baraka, folk singer Pete Seeger, and others. Most affecting is the story of songwriter Abel Meeropol (aka Lewis Allan), who penned “Strange Fruit” because, as he said, “I hate lynching, I hate injustice, and I hate the people who perpetuate it.” A teacher in the New York school system, Meeropol was called before the House Un-American Activities Committee and never received much recognition for his chilling contribution to popular music.

The WLOK Story (4:30 p.m. Saturday), Joann Self’s documentary on Memphis’ WLOK radio station, is just as poignant. She traces the station’s roots and its transformation into an all-African-American operation — the first black-owned station in the country. Interviews with radio personalities Al Bell (“Six-foot-four, 212 pounds of Miz Bell’s baby boy”), Jean “The Golden Girl” Golden, and Melvin Jones anchor the film, which explores the station’s relationship with Stax Records (Bell, a pivotal force at the label, debuted many Stax singles on the air at WLOK), its role in the civil rights movement, and its community-outreach programs. “[WLOK owner] Art Gilliam asked me to work with him to set up a nonprofit,” Self explains. “Melvin Jones and Joan Golden wanted to set up a museum, but they had no memorabilia — they just had these amazing stories. So I went back to Art and said, ‘We have to do oral histories — interview these people and get it on tape, and that will be your museum.’ Art traded airtime for sponsorship to raise money for the project.” The film is a first-time effort for Self, who wrote, directed, and produced The WLOK Story.

Categories
Editorial Opinion

Hope Springs Eternal

The once-hyped 2002 University of Memphis football Tigers are in real danger of being publicly declawed, having just lost to a University of Alabama-Birmingham Blazers team regarded as a soft spot on the Tigers’ schedule — and next Tuesday night, they face what might otherwise have been regarded as a serendipity: a nationally televised encounter here with the University of Louisville Cardinals.

All the Cardinals did last week was defeat the powerhouse Florida State Seminoles on national television. Our best hope now is that Conference-USA rival Louisville is sated by its victory and won’t have much appetite left for Tiger meat. But can they possibly let us down, with the nation’s eyes fully riveted on them in a Tuesday-night game, with no other football games on-air to compete for attention? Again, we can only hope — as well as summon up what remains of our belief in the Tigers’ giant-killing potential. After all, then-Coach Rip Scherer’s team took us all the way up the euphoria pole when they beat the Peyton Manning-led University of Tennessee Volunteers in 1996 — a season otherwise distinguished by several unforeseen losses to other undistinguished teams.

It was back in 1960 (42 years ago!) that a Memphis State University football team coached by Billy “Spook” Murphy almost upset the top-ranked Ole Miss Rebels at old Crump Stadium and first lit the fires of national ambition in the ranks of the blue-clad in River City. Two generations of fans have come and gone since then and have witnessed the Sisyphean spectacle of expectation and disappointment reenacted over and over. The best that can be said is that they have nowhere to go but up. Again.

Meanwhile, though, there is guarded optimism for the prospects of the Calipari-led basketball Tigers this year. And don’t forget the Griz! Memphis’ fledgling NBA team put on its media day this week and made ready to begin a second campaign hereabouts that everybody assumes will lead them onward and upward. Eventually. After all, the Grizzlies still have last year’s rookie sensations Gasol and Battier, a recovered Michael Dickerson, a host of promising new signees, and, above all, the oversight of NBA legend Jerry West, who now commands the destinies of the home team.

Yes, yes, we know, it’s much ado about, well, games. But leaving aside the economic consequences for a city of athletic success (which, as we know, can be argued either way ad infinitum), there’s something to be said for the soul-cleansing aspect of self-surrender. And that’s essentially what’s involved in the vicarious act of Giving It Up for a team. And so, at the risk of further disappointment, we make ready to stoke our hopes again, for the Griz and the basketball Tigers and …

On national TV? From the Liberty Bowl? Let’s give it up one more time. What have we got to lose that we haven’t already lost? Go, Tigers!

Categories
We Recommend We Recommend

All A Board

Ai-goo cham-nah,’ sighs the middle-aged Korean man sitting next to me. It’s a common Korean expression, and presently it means something between ‘Oh shit’ and ‘Jesus.’ It’s the kind of sigh that takes all the breath his tar-stained lungs can muster. ‘What should I do?’ he asks himself in Korean. He inhales slowly on a half-gone cigarette. ‘It looks like I’m dead.’ He reaches into a worn wooden bowl and runs his fingers through the smooth glass stones.”

The above is a scene from an L.A. Weekly story about a Korean Go Club. Its writer, Queena Sook Kim, had gone on a mission to cross the ancient board-game club’s smoky boundaries.

Me, I just picked up the phone and made an appointment to meet with the Memphis Go Club. From what I had read, I imagined a dimly lit room filled with middle-aged chain-smoking Asian men cursing in their native language as they rattled their hands around in bowls filled with black and white stones. I imagined they’d be placing bets left and right as they strategically placed their stones on the large, wooden boards in front of them. And also from what I’d read about some of the Go clubs in Asian communities on the East Coast, the playing could go on for days.

But the Memphis Go Club turns out to be a small group (all men, though not by design) that meets at Garibaldi’s Pizza on Wednesday nights. And they don’t chain-smoke or place bets. They just meet to play. In fact, only two of the regular 10 or so members were at the brightly lit pizza joint when I arrived at 7 p.m., their normal meeting time. Go player Chris Watson says the group’s loose structure allows members, whose careers range from university professors to musicians to unemployed, to come in when it’s convenient for them.

Go, which originated in China and is believed to be the oldest game in the world, is a two-player game of strategy in which the goal is to capture the most territory on a wooden grid composed of 19 vertical lines intersecting with 19 horizontal lines. Territory is gained by placing black and white stones on any of the 361 points where the lines intersect. Players arrange stones to surround the most territory while attempting to capture enemy stones. A game ends when both players can make no further moves and say “I pass.”

It’s a game that requires logic and problem-solving skills and involves no luck of the draw (after all, you can’t be dealt a full house with stones). Many players contend that, although the rules are simpler than chess, it’s much harder to master.

“While chess is more one army versus another, Go gets more complicated because of the openness of the board,” says Charles Rinehart, a member of the Memphis Go Club. “It gets more complicated as you go along, and the fact that you can play anywhere on the board makes it more like guerrilla warfare. You can have a little skirmish going on in one corner and another skirmish in another corner.”

The game dates back about 4,000 years, and legend has it that it was invented by an emperor who wanted to help his mentally challenged son gain some intuition. When the game caught on in Japan around 740 A.D., its popularity grew to exceed that in China. At one time, the annual Go champion in Japan was given a cabinet position. It’s still very popular there today, akin to poker games in America, including the smoking, gambling, cursing men spending hours on end engrossed in a game. The game is also taught in Asian military schools as an exercise in strategy, and Asian newspapers commonly feature Go columns similar to the bridge columns in American papers.

The Memphis club, which is officially certified by the American Go Association (AGA), was started years ago when Rinehart and a friend responded to a poster they’d seen hanging in a now-defunct ice-cream shop. The poster called for all interested Go players to meet at an area bookstore. The club grew through word of mouth and eventually found its home at Garibaldi’s. Now the club’s playing site is listed on the AGA’s Web page, and Rinehart says it’s not uncommon for traveling Go players to stop in when they’re in town.

As an official AGA club, they can receive assistance for teaching materials if any member decides to give Go lessons. Currently, they teach beginners as they come in. They can also host official AGA Go tournaments, which they hope to do someday.

Watson and Rinehart both played in last year’s AGA national tournament, but neither brought home any prizes. And it wasn’t because they’re not any good. Go is simply a hard game to master, especially if it’s not learned at an early age. Both men picked up the game later in life. Rinehart’s been playing for 12 years now, and Watson, who learned from Rinehart, has only been playing for five.

“Go has a nice balance between intuitive and analytical ability. As you get older, you tend to become more analytical and you lose some of the intuition you had as a child. You can teach a child Go, and they can become quite good quickly,” says Rinehart.

Because Go involves so much intuition and because there are so many possible opening plays due to the openness of the very large board, computer programmers are stumped as to how to program software that can play a decent game. In 1997, the computerized chess game Deep Blue beat world chess champion Garry Kasparov, but programmers have yet to create a Go program that can beat even average players.

Rinehart tells me he used to think nothing of going at the game for hours when he first learned, and Watson says he’d love to be able to play through the night if he could take a day off work. Then Rinehart offers to play me a game. I shy away, preferring to sit back and watch more experienced players. They say the game’s addictive, and new players often play for hours trying to achieve the perfect game.

But I’m not ready to Go.

For more information on the Memphis Go Club, check out usgo.org.

Categories
Theater Theater Feature

That Smarts

What’s left when genius has gone? Insanity? Can genius be inherited? And insanity? David Auburn’s Proof, currently at Playhouse on the Square, leaves the answers to these questions to the audience.

Thank you for giving us something to ponder.

At first, the story seems all too familiar. Robert (Dave Landis) is a famous mathematician whose genius got lost in the maze of madness. Robert is dead. What he left behind are two daughters: While Claire (Anne Dauber) was succeeding in New York, Catherine (Kim Justis) was stuck in Chicago with her sick father, with Hal (Jonathon Lamer), a young mathematician who worshiped Robert, and with 103 notebooks. It sounds very much like the storyline of A Beautiful Mind.

The timing of the two works is tangled. Auburn wrote Proof in the summer of 1998, and it premiered at the Manhattan Theatre Club in the spring of 1999 before it moved to Broadway in the fall of 2000. It won the Tony Award for Best Play and the 2001 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Sylvia Nasar’s biography of the schizophrenic Noble Prize-winning mathematician John Nash Jr., A Beautiful Mind, on which the movie was loosely based, was published in June 1998. Ron Howard’s movie premiered in December 2001.

The topic — on screen, on paper, on stage — is the sticky question of where genius ends and insanity begins. In Proof, it’s hard to believe that the play could deal with anything more.

The once-genius Robert tried to find the answers to everything — beautiful mathematics, the most elegant and perfect proofs — in the decimal numbers on library books.

“He used to read all day,” says Catherine. “He kept demanding more and more books. I took them out of the library by the carload. We had hundreds upstairs. Then I realized he wasn’t reading: He believed aliens were sending him messages through the Dewey decimal numbers on the library books. He was trying to work out the code.”

Auburn’s first act provides a glimpse into this dysfunctional group, in which everybody is focused on Robert, the brilliant dead man. Hal, who at age 28 feels he is past his mathematical peak, tries feverishly to find a phenomenal proof in the notebooks Robert left behind. Catherine doesn’t have much hope that he’ll find something, because after the library book phase came the “writing phase: scribbling 19, 20 hours a day. I ordered him a case of notebooks, and he used every one.” While Hal’s interest in the notebooks weakens, his interest in Catherine becomes obvious.

So you sit in your seat thinking, Okay, it’s going to be a beautiful love story. The against-all-odds kind of thing. You can live with that, especially since Lamer does a great job portraying a clumsy, geeky mathematician in love. You get comfortable, assuming that the second act is going to meander along in the same fashion. Claire, the evil, successful sister who didn’t give a damn about her sick father, will probably try to destroy the sweet happiness, but in the end, everything will turn out fine.

But Auburn doesn’t let you off that easily. The story spins in the opposite direction right before intermission, making you wish that the break could be skipped.

When you leave, you may wonder what this was all about. Catherine, 25, is a young woman who has spent the past five years of her life caring for a sick father: “I lived with him. I spent my life with him. I fed him. Talked to him. Tried to listen when he talked. Talked to people who weren’t there. … Watched him shuffling around like a ghost. He was filthy. I had to make sure he bathed.” Catherine, who dropped out of school to take care of this man, didn’t have friends, didn’t seem to have a life beyond this insane genius. It’s her father, after all. Her successful sister has been far away during all those years. Far enough to not have to deal with this man.

So who’s the genius and who’s insane? It’s the ultimate question for Catherine. Can she have one without the other? Does she want either one? And then, aren’t men supposed to be the great geniuses? As Hal says to her:

“Really original work — it’s all young guys.”

“Young guys?”

“Young people.”

“But it is men, mostly.”

“There are some women.”

“Who?”

Through October 27.

Categories
News

Grey-dogged

I showed up at the Dallas bus station at 2:05 a.m., admittedly intoxicated but easily in time for a 2:20 bus to Albuquerque, and I was told to go to Gate 7.

I went to Gate 7, but when I reached the driver, who was taking the tickets, he said I was in the wrong line. So I asked the lady with the clipboard which line to get in for Albuquerque, and she said Gate 2.

At the end of the Gate 2 line, I was told, “No, you need the Amarillo bus. This is the Phoenix bus.”

A baggage man grabbed my backpack to lead me to that bus, but we arrived at an empty bus lane. The express bus to Albuquerque was gone. The next one? A local bus (which stops at every half-ass town along the way) was at 5:30 a.m., more than two and a half hours later.

Two and a half hours at the Dallas bus station, drunk and bitter, when I should have been sleeping soundly on an AmeriCruiser headed for Albuquerque. Instead of arriving at 5 p.m., when my friend expected to pick me up, I would get there at half past midnight, with very little sleep and even less happiness. The later bus would take four more hours to get there and involve a three-hour layover in lovely Abilene.

I was being tormented, again, by that most treacherous of the travel gods, the Great Grey Dog.

The 4 to 5 a.m. hour was the toughest. I was the nervous-looking dude in the corner with a laptop, smacking on my gum and occasionally pounding the table and punctuating this action with an emphatic expletive — which, this being a Greyhound station, brought no attention to me whatsoever. I did have a small audience: a man who asked about my computer and then asked if I had any spare coins in my pocket. Someone was talking loudly to himself, but I tried not to look. I couldn’t tell if it was the man with the cane and the weightlifting belt or the Dennis Weaver look-alike with the briefcase.

Some old buddies had, after an insane night that can’t be discussed here, more or less poured me into the Dallas station, and I was flying high on that special on-the-road confidence that tells you, “Yes, even with all the wackiness and way too many beers, I WILL be on that bus, and I WILL go on to the next adventure as planned.” Well, you know what happened to that. Instead of crashing on the bus to Albuquerque, I found myself buying eggs, sausage, a biscuit, orange juice, a bowl of Fruit Loops, and four extra-strength Tylenol in Dallas just before dawn. I also got to hear about a guy’s impending eye surgery at the VA hospital in Dallas — not that I asked. You have to love the bus.

I finally got to sleep on the Dog — after checking twice with the driver to make sure it was the right one — and all I remember of the ride to Abilene is that there was snow blowing around when I woke up briefly in Mineral Wells. In Abilene, it was sunny and 18 degrees, and the wind was blowing at what I would call a sustained 25 mph, with gusts up to brain-freezing.

News updates from the Abilene paper: Two cows were run over by an 18-wheeler the night before, and a 21-year-old man was in custody after allegedly swatting the heads of his wife and 6-month-old son “in a dispute centering on the death of a chicken.” I can’t make things like this up.

Back at the Abilene station, things took a turn toward the pessimistic. When I handed my ticket to the driver and asked — paranoia check — if this was indeed the bus to Albuquerque, he laughed a mostly toothless laugh and said, “Sure is — good luck!”

A few minutes later, he explained this comment in the following reassuring remarks to the seven of us on board (I’ll try to write in his accent, but bear in mind that you’re listening to a 63-year-old Greyhound driver who just said he can remember when driving from Dallas to Fort Worth was an all-day affair):

“Well, folks, th’road from h’yar to Lubbock should be allraht b’now — ah ‘magine the wind down blowed it drah — but when ah left Lubbock this mawnin, half the town was covered w’ black ahs [that would be ‘ice’]. From Clovis on in to Albuquerque, y’all may have to all sit in the way back to weight ‘er down — heh heh heh. She purdy much come from Lubbock to h’yar this mawnin goin’ sahdways through the snow and ahs. Heh heh heh.”

With these comforting images, I leave you for now. My laptop is running low on battery power, and as my battery fades, so do I. With any luck — make that with any GOOD luck — I will see the Rocky Mountains when the sun comes up tomorrow, and then all will be well. The Rockies are beautiful, they’re covered with snow, and they’re a hell of a long way from Dallas and Abilene.

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Insecurity Plan

No. This is not acceptable. This is not the country we want to be. This is not the world we want to make.

The United States of America is still run by its citizens. The government works for us. Rank imperialism and warmongering are not American traditions or values. We do not need to dominate the world. We want and need to work with other nations. We want to find solutions other than killing people. Not in our name, not with our money, not with our children’s blood.

We want to find a way so that killing is the last resort, not the first. We would rather put our time, energy, money, and even blood into making peace than making war.

“The National Security Strategy of the United States — 2002” is repellent, unnecessary, and, above all, impractical. Americans are famous for pragmatism, and we need a good dose of common sense right now. This Will Not Work.

The announced plan of the current administration for world domination reinforces every paranoid, anti-American prejudice on this earth. This plan is guaranteed to produce more terrorists. Even if this country were to become some insane, 21st-century version of Sparta — armed to the teeth, guards on every foot of our borders — we would still not be safe. Have the Israelis been able to stop terrorism with their tactics?

Not only would we not be safe, we would not have a nickel left for schools or health care or roads or parks or zoos or gardens or universities or mass transit or senior centers or the arts or anything resembling civilization. This is nuts.

This creepy, un-American document has a pedigree going back to Bush I, when — surprise! — Dick Cheney and Paul Wolfowitz were at the Department of Defense and both such geniuses that they not only didn’t see the collapse of the Soviet Union coming, they didn’t believe it after they saw it.

In those days, this plan for permanent imperial adventurism was called “Defense Strategy for the 1990s” and was supposed to be a definitive response to the Soviet threat. Then the Soviet threat disappeared, and the same plan re-emerged as a response to the post-Soviet world.

It was roundly criticized at the time, its manifest weaknesses attacked by both right and left. Now, it is back yet again as the answer to post-September 11th. Sort of like the selling of the Bush tax cut — needed in surplus, needed in deficit, needed for rain and shine — the plan exists apart from rationale.

In what is indeed a dangerous and uncertain world, we need the cooperation of other nations as never before. Under this doctrine, we claim the right to first-strike use of nuclear weapons and “unannounced pre-emptive strikes.” That means surprise attacks. Happy Pearl Harbor Day. We have just proclaimed ourselves Bully of the World.

There is a better way. Foreign-policy experts polled at the end of the 20th century agreed the great triumph of the past 100 years in foreign policy was the Marshall Plan. We can use our strength to promote our interests through diplomacy, economic diplomacy, multilateral institutions (which we dominate anyway), and free trade conditioned to benefit all.

None of this will make al Qaeda love us but will make it a lot more likely that whoever finds them will hand them over.

This reckless, hateful, and ineffective approach to the rest of the world has glaring weaknesses. It announces that we intend to go in and take out everybody else’s nukes (27 countries have them) whenever we feel like it. Meanwhile, we’re doing virtually nothing to stop their spread.

Last month, Ted Turner’s Nuclear Threat Initiative had to pony up $5 million to get poorly secured, weapons-grade uranium out of Belgrade. Privatizing disarmament: Why didn’t we think of that before?

The final absurdity is that the plan is supposed to Stop Change. Does no one in the administration read history?

Molly Ivins is a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and a member of the Creative Writers Syndicate. Her work frequently appears in the Flyer.

Categories
Politics Politics Beat Blog

POLITICS: Center Ring

CENTER RING

The first of five planned debates between the two major-party U.S. Senate candidates is now in the can, after a televised encounter Monday night in Chattanooga, and it is clear that Democratic candidate Bob Clement, currently the congressman representing Nashville, has his work cut out for him in hoping to overtake his Republican opponent, former governor Lamar Alexander.

One of the ironies of Clement’s situation was highlighted by polls taken during the past few weeks, showing his political future ebbing and flowing on wildly fluctuating findings. One day’s survey would show him almost 20 points behind Alexander, another only eight, and the Clement camp’s chief lobbying point was that, as the candidate himself urged on a recent evening in Memphis, “when our name-recognition is the same with a group of voters, we come out even.”

What is astounding about this is that Clement has run for – and held – statewide office before, has been the capital city’s man in Washington for more than a decade, and is the son of one of Tennessee’s most legendary governors in modern times, Frank Clement, a magnetic orator whose keynote speech at the 1956 Democratic Convention mesmerized the nation’s listeners.

The senior Clement was still serving as governor during the late ‘60s when an automobile accident terminated his life and career simultaneously. Indeed, it was almost entirely on the basis of the family name that son Bob was able to launch his own political career in the years following his father’s death, winning election as a Public Service Commissioner and mounting a credible challenge for governor.

As the Democratic nominee for the 7th District congressional seat in 1982, he was upset by a Republican who later became governor, Don Sundquist, but his race that year, followed by his subsequent service in the Nashville-based 5th District, should have guaranteed wide name recognition in the state’s two most populous areas.

The fact is that Clement, though arguably in possession of a quite lustrous vita (he also served terms as a director of the Tennessee Valley Authority and as president of Cumberland University), has a persona problem that stems not from any dearth of ability (his gifts are generally recognized) nor even from his diminutive stature (he stands at considerably less than six feet) but from the fact that he seems low-profile by nature, almost bashful – an introvert in an extrovert’s profession.

One difference between himself and Alexander was dramatized during the televised debate Monday night in the periodic cutaway shots of either candidate reacting to what the other was saying. Alexander appeared to have the actor’s gift of knowing when he was on camera; he seemed polite, attentive, shrewd, and skeptical as needed. When he smiled, it was in good-natured acknowledgement of the developing plotline.

Clement, on the other hand, seemed to pout and glower whenever his adversary was making a point that he deemed off the mark or unfair in what it suggested, and to purse his lips when he was just listening. At several points the camera caught him rolling his tongue in the hollow of his right cheek – a maneuver that in closeup looked huge and almost volcanic.

In short, Alexander at all times had his public face on, while Clement’s private self kept wandering into the proceedings like a lost child. It was a situation that could be interpreted to either man’s credit or to either’s blame, but in an age when appearances count for as much as issues, the cosmetic edge clearly belonged to the former governor.

Even the logistics of the TV studio in Chattanooga worked to Clement’s disadvantage: Those who have seen them both in the flesh are aware that Clement is as ruddy of complexion as Alexander is, but the side of the set on which the congressman sat seemed to be bathed in an antiseptically yellow light, while the former governor had the benefit of pinker and more natural-looking hues, a state of affairs that somewhat equaled out on those rare occasions when Clement was able to stand center stage and field a question from a guest in the studio audience.

Echoes of the Primary

From time to time, Clement has picked up and hurled at Alexander one of the barbs thrown at the Republican nominee by his erstwhile antagonist in the GOP Senate primary, U.S. Rep. Ed Bryant.

The kiss-and-make-up etiquette of partisan politics requires that intra-party rivals support each other even after the most bitter of primaries, and that between Alexander and Bryant was one such. Speaking at a recent luncheon meeting, the outgoing 7th District congressman dutifully endorsed – and sported the stickers of- both Alexander, whom he so recently was chastising on an almost daily basis, and congressional colleague Van Hilleary, the GOP gubernatorial nominee with whom Bryant played Alphonse-and-Gaston a few seasons back, when both men, equally ambitious, were eyeing both a Senate and a governor’s race for 2002.

Though Bryant was no doubt sincere, the exercise had a bit of a pro forma feel to it, and Clement, perhaps over-optimistically, has frequently made appeals on the stump to the erstwhile Bryant voters, professing to represent their populist interests against the putatively more elitist and establishmentarian Alexander.

In any case, Clement has, as indicated, appropriated some of Bryant’s weaponry, repeating the 7th District congressman’s charges that Alexander was out of step with the Senate, which passed by a 97-0 vote a corporate reform measure that Alexander disapproved of, and strongly suggesting, as did Bryant, that the former governor had amassed his fortune by means of sweetheart deals that may have leveraged his governmental connections.

In Monday night’s debate, as previously, Clement made much of a recently renewed $102 million contract between the state and Education Networks of America (ENA), a company on whose board Alexander sits for an annual salary of $60,000. Alexander should give the money back, Clement suggested, “but it hasn’t happened.”

For the record, Alexander has denied anything improper and has noted, as in the televised debate, that Clement, like himself, is a “multi-millionaire.” He made an attempt to turn the tables by recalling what he said was Clement’s membership in the ‘70s on the board of directors of a bank owned by the Butcher brothers, Jake and C.H., once prominent Tennessee Democrats whose banks later failed, leading to federal fraud convictions for both men.

An apparently surprised Clement denied any such membership, but the Alexander campaign later emailed to reporters copies of a photograph from the 1973 annual report of the City and County Bank of Knox County, showing a youthful Bob Clement as one of several “directors.”

Though Clement quibbled about the meaning of the picture – and the nature of his relationship to the bank and to the Butchers, whom he ended up on the wrong side of, politically, losing to Jake Butcher in the Democratic gubernatorial primary of 1978 – and Alexander has pooh-poohed the nature of his ENA involvement, the fact is that both men have profited from private-sector opportunities that their public prominence made easier for them.

There is no great surprise in this – it is one of the unspoken perks of public life, conspicuously so in the careers of most recent American presidents, for example – and there is nothing necessarily improper about it. In any case, the fallout from Monday night may make it more difficult henceforth for Clement to link Alexander with “Enron capitalism” – though the former governor seems to have been measurably more active in the corporate sector than the congressman.

Clement may have more luck with another stratagem inherited from Bryant. In the primary the GOP congressman made much of a remark made by Alexander early in the year to Knoxville News-Sentinel reporter Tom Humphrey, who quoted the two-time presidential aspirant as saying, “I wanted to be president. The Senate will have to do.”

Bryant interpreted the remark as demonstrating the arrogance of a lordly Alexander deigning to go slumming for what he regarded as a consolation price. This is how Clement would prefer it be seen, as well.

As it happens, Alexander first learned of the possible repercussions of his statement while on a visit to the Flyer office during the primary. Informed of Bryant’s first broadside on the subject, the former governor was clearly taken aback. He had made the statement near the end of a long interview at the close of a long day’s worth of campaigning, he said, and had just let his guard down.

In subsequent interviews, Alexander would amend his response, suggesting that he had been indulging in some kind of levity. (That seems to be the favored approach these days of political figures confronted with potentially embarrassing quotations.) There is no reason why the statement should not be taken at face value, however, and no particular reason why any odium should attach to it. By definition, anybody who has tried for the presidency – as Alexander did in the 1996 and 2000 cycles – and failed is settling for less by seeking another public office later on.

A ‘Moderate’’s Re-emergence

What has intrigued some in the current race is the obvious ease with which Alexander has worn his Senate candidate’s mantle – contrasted with the relatively awkward and unconvincing manner of his two presidential races, in which, having compiled a moderate record as the successful two-term governor of Tennessee, he chose to run as a conservative’s conservative – even to the point, in 1996, of advocating the abolition of the Department of Education which he once headed and, in 1999, of denouncing then rival George W. Bush’s phrase “compassionate conservatism” as a case of “weasel words.”

In his primary campaign this year against Bryant, Alexander was compelled once again to stress his conservative credentials, but since then has re-emerged as a reassuringly middle-of-the-road figure – capable, for example, of stretching hands across partisan boundaries to form a “coalition” with Memphis Mayor Willie Herenton, a nominal Democrat and former city schools superintendent who professes admiration for Alexander’s educational reforms as governor during the ‘80s.

Meanwhile, those red-meat Republicans who always distrusted Alexander for the very moderation which he practiced as governor, when he had to make common cause with Democrats to get his programs enacted, have apparently been mollified by his stated allegiance in this campaign year to the programs of the Bush administration.

The difference between administrative and legislative functions being what it is, there is relatively little likelihood that a Senator Alexander would run afoul of his party’s conservatives, though he – like Clement – has shown signs of wanting to brake the administration’s headlong rush toward confrontation with Iraq. (While giving lip service to the president’s pronouncements, Alexander has advocated a greater role for Congress and America’s allies in the shaping of a military policy, and he makes a point of saying that his own interest is in domestic policy and in “winning the peace.”)

ClemeNt has proved a doughty campaigner, and his wife, Mary Clement, has won numerous admirers for her strength and sagacity on the campaign trail (though she, like her counterpart Honey Alexander, has been under-employed as a campaign surrogate). He has legitimate policy differences with Alexander – notably on providing prescription-drug insurance for seniors through Medicare and imposing a form of price controls on drugs – but his own history as a sometime fellow traveler with the Bush administration (on the initial Bush tax cuts, for example) makes it difficult for him to draw graphic contrasts.

With a month to go, it would seem to be the mellifluous-voiced Alexander’s race to lose, but the undecideds in an electorate that has seen Republican Van Hilleary close the gap with Democrat Phil Bredesen, the long-term leader in that race, may reserve judgment for a few more weeks yet between candidates Alexander and Clement, both of whom are doggedly working the middle of the road.