Categories
Music Music Features

Center Stage

While locals are apt to take institutions such as The Center for Southern Folklore for granted, savvy tourists often make it their first stop in Memphis. Situated downtown in Peabody Place, the center serves as an informal gateway to everything musical in Memphis: Here visitors can learn about the city’s rich history as a blues town, a jazz haven, and, of course, the birthplace of rock-and-roll.

Last week, the center’s director, Judy Peiser, hosted a rehearsal for Black Snake Moan music supervisor Scott Bomar, who practically grew up at the center, booking shows, performing in his own bands, and playing alongside established soul and blues acts. This time, however, the doors were locked, and the only folks in the audience were Black Snake Moan co-producers John Singleton and Stephanie Allain, actress Christina Ricci, and a few crew members, as Bomar and director Craig Brewer worked with Samuel Jackson, Kenny Brown, and Cedric Burnside on some songs for the movie.

This week, the spotlight is on the Center for Southern Folklore itself, which is holding its 18th annual Memphis Music & Heritage Festival. A cornucopia of blues, gospel, rock, folk, soul, and jazz, the free festival exhibits an array of talent, ranging from young local artists such as Kelley Hurt, Cory Branan, The Natural Kicks, and Mouse Rocket to musical mythmakers such as Billy Lee Riley, Jim Dickinson, Super Chikan, and East Tennessee fiddler Roy Harper. As the city’s aural landscape has evolved, so has the festival, showcasing Latino bands such as Symbiosis and Los Cantadores, Celtic group Kula, neo-soulsters Will Graves and Authentic Lyfe, and rappers Kavious, The Iron Mic Coalition, and Willie Firecracker.

“We’re continually focusing on the tried-and-true artists who represent the heritage of the region,” Peiser says, “but we’re also looking at the slant that younger musicians have on it. We’ve got a lot of groups who are new and different while still exploring their roots, like alt-country bands and neo-soul singers, who are definitely rooted in the Memphis tradition.”

She points to center employee Tonya Dyson-Jerry, who sings with Men-Nefer and Will Graves, as one of the voices that make “the new sound of soul” in Memphis. “We met when she booked KRS-ONE here last spring,” Peiser says, “and she’s been here ever since.”

Another center regular, spoken-word performer IQ, began hanging around years ago. “I asked if he knew who [Mississippi poet] Etheridge Knight was,” Peiser recalls. “He said no, and I told him until you do, I’m not talking to you. I didn’t want IQ to think he was doing his craft in a vacuum. He came back to me, saying, ‘I can’t believe this!’ A short time later, he saluted [Knight] with a poetry night here.”

At this year’s festival, IQ will perform in the center’s Folklore Store and emcee various stages throughout the weekend.

“Tonya and IQ are strong in their own traditions,” Peiser notes. “Through their connections in the music scene, they bring other performers to the center, which helps keep the festival diverse.”

From late morning to late evening this Saturday and Sunday, over a hundred musicians and dancers will perform on four stages: inside the Folklore Store and the Folklore Hall and outdoors at the Trolley Stop Stage and on the Verizon Stage, located at the corner of Peabody Place and Main Street. Quilters and craftspeople will hold court in the hallway connecting the two indoor venues, while chefs will offer cooking demonstrations in the Viking Culinary Arts Center, located next door to the Center for Southern Folklore. (See Food Notes, p. 46.)

“The feel of this year’s festival is so exciting,” says Peiser. “Whether it’s Mouse Rocket or [gospel group] The Sensational Six, the music is just great. The level of professionalism is really strong in every category, and I am amazed by the variety of performers.”

Bomar expects to be at the festival all weekend. “It’s always one of the live-music highlights of my year,” he says.

“The real folks,” Peiser fires back proudly, “know where it’s at.”

The Memphis Music & Heritage Festival runs from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Saturday, September 3rd and Sunday, September, 4th, in and around the Center for Southern Folklore. Admission is free. For more information, call 525-FOLK or go to SouthernFolklore.com.

Categories
Book Features Books

He’s Back

“The book was all about the hard sell (the million-dollar advance guaranteed that) but it was also going to be poignant and quietly devastating and put every other book written by my generation to shame.”

That’s author Bret Easton Ellis describing the book he owes his publisher, Knopf, but he can’t be bothered writing it. There isn’t time. The college class he teaches meets a grueling one afternoon a week. The grad student he wants to bed is giving him the go-around — until her body parts (minus the head) end up in a motel room. And the actress he’s been married to for three months is on his back to clean up his act. (Fat chance, given the Xanax and Klonopin Ellis keeps popping and the Ketel One he keeps downing.) But to top it all, Ellis’ adolescent son by that actress wife is giving him the silent treatment.

On the brighter side, though, he’s got stepdaughter Sarah, a real angel and no wonder. She and her fellow first-graders at the progressive Buckley School north of New York City are floating on a cloud of Zoloft, Celexa, and Paxil. But on the darker side, Sarah’s having trouble with her current reading assignment (Lord of the Flies), plus her favorite stuffed toy, a bird named Terby (get it?), is coming to life and ripping the ceilings inside the suburban spread Ellis calls home.

That ain’t all. The exterior paint on that house is mysteriously peeling, the furniture is rearranging itself, and, in a night of heart-stopping terror, what looks to be a giant hairball is tearing through the upstairs bedrooms. Ellis is witness to it all, so he hires an exorcist to de-demonize the place.

Meanwhile, a college student named Clayton may or may not be responsible for a series of grisly murders modeled after those in Ellis’ American Psycho. Clayton’s after Ellis too (forget the killer hairball), and so is a detective who goes by the name Donald Kimball (see again American Psycho), but he may or may not be a real detective.

To make more matters much worse, the author’s dead father may or may not be sending Ellis e-mails, and the family dog may or may not morph into a killer shrew after Terby climbs inside his anus. (The dog’s, not Ellis’.) But something does get into Ellis after his marriage falls apart: Michael Graves, the name of the lead character in Teenage Pussy (the title of the book Ellis isn’t writing but owes Knopf) and the boyfriend (out of nowhere) Ellis ends up with in the closing pages of his rotten new novel, Lunar Park, a book whose main character is not only an awful lot like Bret Easton Ellis but is named Bret Easton Ellis.

The book (Lunar Park, not Teenage Pussy), is, for all its mea culpas and with-it references, neither poignant nor quietly devastating but a hard-sell and shame it sure is — that and a demonstration of the diagnosis that Ellis (for real?) once received after yet another useless stint in rehab: “acquired situational narcissism.”

I say, no sale.

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

Intoxicating Politics

“Jon Stewart is the most powerful liberal in America, and there’s nothing Washington can do to stop it!” shouts Zach Whitten, pounding his fist on a table at Celtic Crossing, the new Irish pub in Cooper-Young.

The young, curly-haired man is seated with about 10 others in the bar’s back room. The room is usually reserved for nonsmokers, but on Thursday nights, a different crowd gathers here: the new drinking club for Democrats, Drinking Liberally.

Everyone laughs at Whitten’s comment. Then someone brings up Air America Radio, and soon Whitten & Co. are deep in conversation.

“Those people probably wouldn’t normally just start talking to one another in a bar,” says the club’s co-founder Sarah Rutledge during its second meeting. “That’s what this is all about.”

The social drinking club for left-wingers was started in New York in May 2003 by friends Justin Krebs and Matthew O’Neill as a way to offer Dems support and a place to strategize. But mainly it was formed to give Democrats a place to discuss politics over a few beers and meet some like-minded people. As their Web site states, “You don’t need to be a policy expert and this isn’t a book club — just come and learn from peers, trade jokes, vent frustrations, and hang out.”

Rutledge and her husband Brandon Fischer started the local chapter of Drinking Liberally about a month ago. Rutledge had run across something about the national group on the Internet and felt Memphis could use its own chapter, one of around 60 nationwide.

“Our point is not to take action or organize rallies,” Rutledge says. “This is just a place to discuss politics in an anxiety-free environment.”

In their first week, discussion topics included Harold Ford Jr., gay adoption, the city’s lax park maintenance, and why people should scoop their dog’s poop.

“I actually started scooping!” one guy exclaims.

At the second meeting, there’s less politicizing and more socializing, although Ralph Nader comes up as do questions over third-party voting. There’s also some talk about the rumor that Christopher Walken may run for president and why Oprah would be a good candidate.

Some chapters are more structured than others. One in Washington, D.C., hosts a speaker each week, and while Rutledge hopes to have some local politicians join in, she says she won’t push the group to have any certain structure.

“If someone shows up and doesn’t want to discuss politics but wants to talk about the latest style of blue jeans, they’ll still be hanging out with people who share their ideals, even if we’re not directly discussing them,” Rutledge says.

With a name like Drinking Liberally, one might expect the night to result in some drunk Democrats and heated discussions. So far, no one’s gotten out of hand.

“After a cocktail or a beer, you really open up,” Ray Rico says, as he sips his drink.

The national group’s site even has a “Guide to Politically Correct Drinking” that outlines which companies have donated to Republican causes and which ones support the Democratic way. For instance, did you know Bacardi is a contributor to Tom DeLay’s political action committee? Or that V&S Spirits, the makers of Absolut Vodka, tend to be progressive in their views?

In any case, Rutledge finds the guide overwhelming so she doesn’t use it. Most of the people at this meeting are drinking pints of Blue Moon or Guinness, while a couple others sip vodka tonics.

She picked Celtic Crossing because it serves pitchers of beer but isn’t a dive. “I was looking for convenience and something comfortable,” she says. “But it had to be nice enough for people in Germantown. I don’t want to drag them to some ill-repaired corner on Madison.

“Memphis is so isolated. It’s a strange social environment, and I want this club to offer a way for people to meet people from all over the city,” Rutledge says. “People may be from different neighborhoods, but we share the same beliefs. Here we can get together and talk about them.”

www.DrinkingLiberally.org

Drinking Liberally

meets every Thursday, 6:30 p.m.

Celtic Crossing (903 S. Cooper)

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

Southern Culture

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This Labor Day weekend, the Center for Southern Folklore will host its annual signature event, the Memphis Music & Heritage Festival. Five stages will be set up along Main Street, from Gayoso to Peabody Place Avenue. Musical performances will be held in the center’s main hall in Peabody Place, while the stage at the Peabody Place trolley stop will be the site of storytelling and spoken-word performances. Artisans will also be on hand to demonstrate traditional Southern crafts, such as quilt-making.

The focus of the Center for Southern Folklore is to preserve and present the history of Southern culture, but center director Judy Peiser recognizes the impact of global influences on the South, especially when it comes to cuisine.

“Food is that part of the culture that’s retained when everything else is lost. It evolves as new influences are presented,” Peiser says. “We don’t want to hit people over the head that Memphis is changing, but by presenting different foods or dance and music at the festival, we’re able to describe the expanding culture of Memphis by showing people parts of the community that they may not see every day.”

The center will team up with Viking, an event sponsor, to offer two days of free cooking demonstrations in the culinary school’s kitchen. Ella Kizzie, a chef at the center’s café, will prepare traditional Southern dishes, such as greens, hot-water cornbread, and peach cobbler. Another center employee, graphic designer Chang Zhi Yu, will give a tofu-cooking demonstration. Members of the Choctaw tribe will make fried bread, employees from Café Samovar will present Russian cuisine, and there will be traditional Puerto Rican dishes as well as Jewish challah bread. Each of the programs will last about two hours and samples of the foods will be available.

Viking will also host two classes on the art of grilling with “The Great American Cookout.” A portion of the $79 course fee will be donated to the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS), which helps support families that have been affected by the death of family members serving in the armed forces. For more information on this or other courses, call 578-5822.

The Center for Southern Folklore is located at 119 S. Main St. The festival will run from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, September 3rd and 4th. While the event is free, festival-goers are encouraged to donate to the center. For more information on the festival and cooking demonstrations, call 525-3655 or visit their Web site, SouthernFolklore.com.

While you’re downtown, you can also check out the new Healthy Lifestyle Bistro, located at 45 S. Main.

Janet “J.P.” Austin opened the market and restaurant last month because she wanted to share the value of holistic living through food, herbs, and oils, something she’s practiced for more than 15 years.

“We fill a niche that was missing from downtown,” Austin says. “Most of our healthy places to eat and shop are in Midtown, but we have a growing health-conscience community downtown.”

Customers can browse Healthy Living’s selection of herbal remedies and organic products or sit at one of the colorful tables and enjoy organic coffee or eat breakfast or lunch.

Austin is also a singer and her husband, James, tours with Sonny Turner’s Platters — currently one of several versions of the 1950s band that sang “The Great Pretender.” When James is not on tour, he’s in the kitchen at Healthy Lifestyle, along with his son Patrick and daughter Kym, preparing sandwiches, wraps, and salads.

“They have their own secret recipes, and they don’t even share them with me,” says Austin.

Austin is planning to offer live music and hopes to remodel the upstairs space to create a balcony. In addition to more seating, Healthy Lifestyle could also become a venue for yoga or Pilates classes on Saturday mornings.

Healthy Lifestyle Bistro is open Monday through Friday 8 to 10 a.m. for breakfast and 11 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. for lunch. On Saturdays, the hours are 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Kings and Queen

A sprawling, subtitled French talkfest, Arnaud Desplechin’s Kings and Queen hasn’t been the art-house crossover hit that March of the Penguins has been. Rather than climbing up the box-office charts, this movie has instead slowly traveled around the country since its New York opening in May. In fact, it’s exactly the kind of film that a phenomenon like Penguins marginalizes: Why suffer through a twisty, unpredictable 150 minutes of subtitles when you can breeze through 80 minutes equipped with a voiceover that tells you exactly what to think?

But Kings and Queen is also exactly the kind of great foreign film we’re in danger of losing as indies and docs crowd U.S. art houses. Deliciously ambitious, Desplechin’s film is essentially two parallel movies that intersect twice — once at the midpoint and once at the end. It follows linked dual protagonists almost as interesting to look at as Emperor penguins: Emmanuelle Devos is a stunning beauty, with open features just askew enough to make her interesting. Mathieu Almaric is charismatic and comic, with scrunched features and a mischievous glint, like a cross between Jean-Paul Belmondo and Chico Marx.

In some ways, the parallel stories they inhabit couldn’t be more different. Devos’ Nora is a remarkably poised woman dealing with myriad problems — managing her austere father’s impending death, being visited by ghosts, juggling husbands past and future, a fatherless son, and a lost-cause sister. Nora’s half of the movie is classical melodrama, an update of the ’40s’ “woman’s picture” with echoes of both Hitchcock and Ingmar Bergman.

If Nora is a woman who at first seems to have everything together, Almaric’s Ismael is a man whose life seems to be falling apart. But rather than melodrama, his story is played as farce: He’s committed to an asylum by a sister who may be even crazier than he is but contemplates staying as a means of avoiding back taxes. He raids the hospital medicine closet with his visiting lawyer and romances a suicidal new patient. On the strength of this film alone, Almaric has to be one of the most purely entertaining performers in movies today. His hip-hop day-therapy dance is one of the most joyously goofy moments in recent cinema, easily topping the cherry Jon Heder put on top of Napoleon Dynamite.

The aplomb with which Desplechin weaves these seemingly incompatible strands is remarkable. Here is a film that blends tragedy and comedy, artifice and naturalism. It makes room for dance routines and gunplay, sex and love, death and adoption. A beautiful heroine and a charismatic hero. Chamber music and French hip-hop and “Moon River.” That it contains so much and is also packed with allusions — to other films, poetry, mythology — might suggest that Kings and Queen is a Tarantino-esque flight of fancy. It isn’t. I can’t think of another film this year more connected to real life. When its 150 minutes of subtitled talkiness ended, I was ready to watch it all over again.

Kings and Queen

Opening Friday, September 2nd

Highland Quartet

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

The Constant Gardener

A couple of years ago, Brazilian director Fernando Meirelles was nominated for an Oscar for his first film, the Rio gangster yarn City of God. A sensationalistic tale of street violence among youth gangs, City of God was emotionally blank, but as an exercise in pure film style it was undeniably gripping, pitting a neorealist mise-en-scène against a phalanx of post-digital effects.

Now Meirelles has parlayed that achievement into a second film that comes with a more upscale pedigree: The Constant Gardener is adapted from a John Le Carré bestseller. It stars Ralph Fiennes, who steered the ostensibly similar The English Patient to Oscar glory. It has a global sweep and a bigger budget.

The Constant Gardener, a message-movie thriller about the connections between corporate corruption and Third World misery, is a more conventional film than City of God. Its narrative and thematic broad strokes — a man overcoming his complacency (or neutrality) to spring into action; political upheaval seen through the prism of one-on-one romance — are longtime tendencies of English-language cinema, with Gone With the Wind and Casablanca only the most notable examples. But in this case more conventional doesn’t mean less successful. The Constant Gardener may be less immediately bracing than City of God. It may have less surface spectacle. But it digs deeper. In Meirelles’ debut, style tended to overwhelm story. Here he finds a better balance.

Fiennes is Justin Quayle, a mild, mid-level career British diplomat stationed in Kenya. He meets Tessa (Rachel Weisz), a younger, fiery would-be human-rights activist, while giving a speech back home in London. Later married, Tessa joins Justin in Africa. There, while he’s performing his diplomatic duties, she takes a more hands-on approach to helping a populace wracked by poverty and AIDS.

The film opens with Justin seeing Tessa off at the airport. She disappears into the background blur as he stands rapt. It’s a lovely scene and the last time he’ll see her alive. From there, Meirelles tells the story by cutting between two narrative lines. One is a flashback that follows Justin and Tessa’s meeting through their relationship and her murder. The other follows Justin’s investigation into that murder, in which a conspiracy is discovered that implicates international pharmaceutical giants and his own government.

Even though Meirelles’ visuals are subservient to the story, he remains an active stylist. Justin and Tessa’s first sexual encounter is dreamy — filmed in tight close-ups against a white background that banishes the world outside. When the film lands in Kenya for the first time, Meirelles uses a hand-held camera to follow along the top of a child’s head as he weaves through a colorful, noisy shantytown crowd. In City of God, these flourishes would have been ends in themselves. Here they merely enhance the narrative or emotional information Meirelles is trying to impart.

It’s less showy, but with The Constant Gardener, Meirelles has found a way to unify form and content, which is what the best narrative filmmaking is all about.

The Constant Gardener

Opened Wednesday, August 31st

Highland Quartet

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Spotlight on: Film Festival Season

For years now the Memphis area has had “blues festival” seasons, when a rash of regional music fests dot the calendar at the same time. But now we’re entering relatively new territory: Welcome to film festival season.

The annual Indie Memphis Film Festival, scheduled for October 21st-27th, is currently putting the final touches on its lineup. But local movie buffs who don’t want to wait can get their film-fest fix this week at the third Oxford Film Festival, which will run from Tuesday, September 6th, through Sunday, September 11th, at the Gertrude Ford Center on the campus of the University of Mississippi.

Nearly 100 films were chosen from the more than 300 that were submitted, according to festival director Elaine Abadie, and the selection ranges from local interest to international concerns. The festival opens at 5:30 p.m. Tuesday with the documentary The Rough South of Larry Brown, which won the best documentary award at the inaugural festival in 2003. Abadie says that this year’s festival is being dedicated to Brown, a renowned Oxford-based writer who died last fall.

Memphis will be represented in the form of local director Chris McCoy‘s Automusik Can Do No Wrong, the comic mockumentary that won the Hometowner Award for best narrative feature at last year’s Indie Memphis fest. McCoy is scheduled to appear at the screening, which takes place at 9 p.m. Thursday. Much to McCoy’s delight, his film is screening immediately after Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation, a guerrilla filmmaking effort by three boys from the Mississippi Gulf Coast who spent seven years — starting at age 12 — producing the shot-by-shot remake of the Harrison Ford blockbuster. McCoy saw Raiders in February when both films were screening at the Magnolia Film Festival in Starkville, Mississippi, and raves about it.

Raiders is great,” McCoy says. “Anybody that wants to make a movie should watch this.”

Other potential highlights include a slate of music documentaries, including the North Mississippi blues survey You See Me Laughin’: The Last of the Hill Country Bluesmen and Gram Parsons: Fallen Angel, about the late instigator of the alt-country genre. The festival will also include panels on screenwriting, casting, producing, and documentary filmmaking. Single-day passes are $10, full-festival passes $45.

As for Indie Memphis, the festival’s lineup is clicking into place thanks to an earlier submissions deadline, according to festival organizer Les Edwards. With the attention garnered for regional Southern filmmaking at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, the timing couldn’t be better for a big splash from a festival that dubs itself “The Soul of Southern Film.”

Though the submission period has closed for the primary portions of the festival, there are still a couple of programs accepting entries: a youth showcase for area filmmakers 18 and under and a music-video showcase sponsored by LiveFromMemphis.com. The submission deadline for both of these programs is Thursday, September 15th.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

You know, you almost have to love Pat Robertson, bless his heart. He’s a man who says what’s on his little mind. Like claiming hurricanes will hit Orlando, Florida, because

Disney World hosted a “gay day.” Or claiming equal rights for women would turn them all into home-wrecking

lesbians. And claiming that equal rights for women — and homosexuals — were the cause of 9/11. You just have to love him. I’ve looked at many so-called left-wing Internet sites to find out the general reaction to his suggesting that covert agents of the United States government murder the president of Venezuela — that’s the way to bring down gas prices! — and it’s all pretty funny. Letter-writing campaigns calling for his evangelical television show to be yanked from the airwaves! Angry groups denouncing him as a threat to the good old U. S. of A! People seriously worried about why the Bush administration isn’t jumping up and down and screaming, “We are not like him! We don’t believe in murder!” There might be a good reason they aren’t jumping up and down to distance themselves: They probably agree with him, and they probably are plotting to kill or overthrow Chavez. After all, he is trying to help the poor in his country, and they love him. I’m quite certain there are thousands of PR spinners out there spinning around in anti-gravity circles and crapping their pants with brilliant ideas about what all camps should do over this snafu. I say, big woo-hoo. I just wonder how Pat is doing today. And I wonder what next he might say! Okay. I’ll stop. Look, we have bigger things about which to worry, what with a president of our own with an IQ of a lentil. Still, my favorite thing so far is Pat’s apology. Even though he couldn’t come up with an alternative meaning of assassination, he played the only card he could and said that when he suggested that the U.S. government could just “take [Chavez] out,” he could have meant that instead of murdering him in cold blood as he previously encouraged us to do, agents of our government could have merely “kidnapped” him. Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous. I love this man. So much so that I did some research, and I found out why Robertson hates Chavez so much. See, they used to date. Each other, that is. This is no lie. They had a house in the Hamptons and a huge collection of Sylvester records to which they regularly danced before going out on the town and day-tripping to Fire Island. Well, one day Hugo came home to their tony little cottage and asked Pat to buy something that would take him from 0 to 200 in five seconds, and Pat bought him a pair of scales! Okay, so those are all lies. I apologize. Smack makes me say weird things and taints the way I see things. (Does anyone know of a psychiatrist who won’t try to heal me by asking me to say five positive things about myself in the mirror in some kind of creepy self-affirmation exercise?) But Pat’s apology was priceless. It was almost as good as something I read the other day in a full-page Commercial Appeal advertisement from some organization formed to save the historic name of our beloved Nathan Bedford Forrest Park. This isn’t an actual quote, but one of the reasons the people were asking readers to send them money — allegedly to save the park’s name — was that Forrest wasn’t such a bad guy after all because he took 44 of his slaves with him into battle! I’ve never spit out an Amoco-bought sandwich in laughter that fast in my life. Yes, goooood Nathan Bedford Forrest. That was so kind of you. After inspecting their teeth and purchasing those human beings, he was good enough to them to take them into a war he was fighting to maintain the right to keep owning them. At least the ones he wasn’t raping and impregnating. Hell yeah, leave his statue there. Not many people can pull off something like that. Except for maybe Pat Robertson, my new hero. Now that he’s suggested killing Chavez and Chavez is thinking of ways to sell oil at a reduced price directly to poor communities in the United States and cut everyone else here off, maybe he’ll lay a few barrels on Memphis and we can just burn the statue down. Oh, don’t frown. I’m just clowning around. I’m just freaked out that there are bodies down there in the park in the ground. How creepy is that? Almost as creepy as Pat!

Categories
Politics Politics Beat Blog

Imperfect Storm

Whether or not some oversight by a staff person was responsible for the ill-fated letter to the state parole board on behalf of convicted murderer Phillip Michael Britt — sent out over 9th District U.S. representative Harold Ford Jr.‘s signature and later disavowed by the congressman — anyone who has logged any time at all in a congressional office is aware that most mail is staff-written and signed either by auto-pen or by staffers emulating the boss’s signature.

The greater part of such correspondence is in response to somewhat standard requests for information or assistance or for an elaboration of the congressman’s or senator’s views on this or that topic of the day. And the sheer volume of incoming mail means that many inquiries are met with form letters.

For whatever reason, Britt’s appeal to Ford must have found itself in a pile of such mail destined for routine treatment and was not, as it clearly should have been, directed to Ford for a discretionary response by the congressman himself. The odds for such a mischance occurring were no doubt increased by a stepped-up travel schedule on the part of Ford, now a candidate for the U.S. Senate. It is difficult to believe that the congressman, who is nothing if not cautious in his rhetoric, would have knowingly written a letter of even qualified support for Britt, who was a principal in the brutal and notorious murder-for-hire of Memphian Deborah Groseclose in 1977.

Whatever the case, it was a class-A boo-boo — and though Ford has manfully taken responsibility for the error (enduring in the process a severe reaming-out on the air by local radio talk-show host Mike Fleming), it has already impacted his Senate race, overshadowing his endorsement by the state AFL-CIO earlier in the week that the story broke.

Sooner or later, somebody on the Ford staff will have some serious ‘splaining to do. Most likely, that moment of truth has already occurred — and not, one would assume, to the offending staffer’s gratification. Expectations governing work in the congressman’s office, as previously in that of his father and predecessor, a zealot for constituent service, are exacting, even by congres-sional standards.

Simultaneous with the parole-board flap, but presumably unrelated to it, Ford has been breaking in a new press secretary, Corinne Ciocia, who succeeded Zac Wright early in August. Wright had returned to his Tennessee home, it was said, as the consequence of back problems and other assorted physical complaints.

Thus did the revolving staff door swing again in the Ford congressional office.

Wright’s immediate predecessor, the short-lived Carson Chandler, was reportedly fired in late 2004 for divulging to Roll Call, a Capitol Hill publication for insiders, that the congressman was a frequent weekend visitor to Florida. Disclosed the periodical on November 22nd of last year: “Ford’s press secretary says the Congressman goes to Miami often to visit his father, former Representative Harold Ford (D-Tenn.), and his brother.”

That sort of candor, which clashed somewhat with the stereotyped notion of dutiful back-and-forthing to the district, was bad enough. But what apparently cut it with the congressman were two further revelations in the Roll Call story — one that began this way: “Ford was chilling poolside recently at the schwanky [sic] Delano hotel in Miami. He wore a bathing suit and Washington Redskins baseball cap, puffed on a stogie, and sipped a fruity frozen drink” — and another that dished on the congressman’s alleged penchant for pricey pedicures.

Although Chandler was specifically ruled out as the source for the latter item, his name was all over the rest of the column, and the effect of the whole was to get him shown the exit.

During his tenure, which lasted a tad longer than six months, Wright committed no such gaffes. He churned out press releases and doggedly monitored Ford’s press availabilities so as to exclude potentially embarrassing or unfriendly questions. But the wear and tear of his high-pressure job began to show on Wright, and his departure was not altogether a surprise.

Frist-Lott (cont’d): As fate would have it, former Senate majority leader Trent Lott of Mississipppi was due in Memphis this week for a booksigning, one week after an appearance here by his nemesis/successor Bill Frist, who was the subject of a decidedly unfriendly reference in Lott’s newly published memoir, Herding Cats.

In the book, the Mississippian accuses former protégé Frist of “betrayal” for taking advantage of Lott’s impolitic praise of centenarian Strom Thurmond in order to take over as majority leader. As noted here last week, Frist told the Flyer as far back as 1998 that he intended at some point to make a bid for the job.

After a luncheon appearance before the downtown Rotary Club at the Convention Center last Tuesday, the Tennessee senator was asked about what Lott had written:

“I’ve not read the comments; I’ve not read the book,” Frist answered, then did his best to pour honey on the wound. “I have tremendous respect for Trent Lott. I’ve worked with him very closely. I have lunch with him two days a week. He helped me on the energy bill. He helped move America forward on the highway bill, on the recent CAFTA bill. I look forward to working with him constructively. And that’s pretty much where it sits. I know that it was very difficult in the past when he, uh, sat down, and I respect his interpretation of the events that led to that. I’m really looking to the future and to my continued close work with a man I respect tremendously, Trent Lott, who’s served the people of Mississippi in a very positive and constructive way.”

Hurricane Kurita: The field of would-be successors to Frist, who will vacate his seat next year to prepare an expected bid for president, includes Representative Ford, a Democrat, and three Republicans — former congressmen Ed Bryant and Van Hilleary and former Chattanooga mayor Bob Corker. It also includes another Democrat, state senator Rosalind Kurita of Clarksville, who continues to hang in there with an innovative advertising campaign on Web sites and blogs, despite some staff losses and slowdowns in her more conventional fund-raising.

Kurita, who has gained adherents among Democrats who consider Ford too ambiguously conservative, will blow into town this weekend. Her several local appearances include one before the Germantown Democratic Club at the Germantown library on Saturday morning.

New Dance Moves

Since former state senator John Ford has indicated he still intends to plead not guilty of extortion and bribery in the Tennessee Waltz scandal (and to demonstrate in the process that his government accusers were in fact the Bad Guys), it was probably inevitable that one of his fellow indictees should work things in exactly the opposite direction.

When state representative Chris Newton of Cleveland came to Memphis Tuesday morning to change his not-guilty plea to guilty in federal court, he did his best not only to present himself as an innocent in the general, not the legal, sense of the term but almost as a de facto member of the prosecution. (If he turns out to provide state’s evidence in cases against others, that could turn out for real.) While praising Newton as having been “forthright,” however, assistant U.S. attorney Tim DiScenza indicated Tuesday that no plea bargaining had been pursued in the case.

First, Newton responded to Judge Jon McCalla‘s lengthy reading of the indictment with a highly qualified plea of guilty, alleging straight-facedly that he had intended only to accept a campaign contribution but conceding that he accepted money from the bogus FBI-established eCycle firm “at least in part” to influence the course of legislation.

Talking to members of the media later, Newton lavishly praised both the FBI and the U.S. attorney’s office and proclaimed that “the process of rebuilding public trust in our institutions of government, especially the Tennessee General Assembly … begins here with me today.”

Though Newton has now copped to being a felon, he was within a few dollars and a few procedures of actually being legal. DiScenza alluded in court Tuesday to a scandal within the scandal — the fact that lobbyist/co-defendant Charles Love of Chattanooga, one of the “bagmen” in the case, had admitted skimming most of the eCycle money intended for Newton. Of the $4,500 routed his way, Newton only got $1,500 — just $500 more than the legal limit for a contribution.

Asked by a reporter how he felt about being skimmed, Newton beamed good-naturedly and pantomimed his answer: “You’re bad!”

Newton’s change of plea follows that of Love’s fellow bagman Barry Myers and puts pressure on the other accused — besides Ford, state senators Kathryn Bowers and Ward Crutchfield and former state senator Roscoe Dixon — to follow suit. This dance could be over before it really gets started good. — JB

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Q & A: Abdel Darras

As gas prices continue to soar, the squeeze is on both consumers and merchants. Abdel Darras is owner and part-time operator of the BP station at Union and Myrtle. On a recent afternoon, he is busy as customers stream in and out to pay for gas, buy hot food, and purchase cigarettes and lottery tickets. But Darras is concerned that his customers don’t understand the situation that gas prices create for businesspeople like him. — By Ben Popper

Flyer: Have you noticed a drop in the number of customers purchasing gas?

Darras: Oh yes, definitely. It has been a gradual decline, but once the prices started climbing over $2.40, I started to see a change. I would say that now I’m doing about 20 percent less business than before. Of course, a lot less people are buying premium gas and everyone is spending less money inside the store.

Do people blame you for the cost of gas?

A lot of people come inside and complain because they think it’s my fault. I don’t set my own prices. I used to see a profit of maybe 5 or 6 cents a gallon. Now I’m lucky to get 1, maybe 1 and a half cents. People think we’re gouging them, but it’s just the opposite. How do you set your price?

The refinery sets our price; they call us every day.

What do you think is causing the price increase?

Well, I think a part of the problem is not enough supply, but I think the main problem is the market. We have to go by the price of petrol, and overanxious investors are causing a lot of the price inflation.

Are you worried?

I’ve been in the gas business for 15 years. I am worried because I don’t think the prices will ever go back to their original levels. I was selling gas in 2000 at 77 cents a gallon. That will never happen again.