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Going Digital

PHOTO AP
Clockwise from top left: MeDiA Co-op founders Brandon Hutchinson, Morgan Jon Fox, Denny Henke, and Joshua Peter Laurenzi.

We’re not talking about VHS, a huge disappointment to those who actually attempted home-movie editing with its complicated mess of wires, clunky buttons, and tandem VCRs spread out across the floor a decade or so ago. Oh, how did we ever do it?

Forget about it. Now we’re talking about digital. Those thousands of half-constructed images we’ve played out in our heads? We just need three things to create them: a digital camcorder, a computer, and one (blessed) wire to connect the two.

Even if we already have our equipment, there are a few new things to consider — RAM, processor speeds, MPEGs, pixels, DCTs, CCDs, external hard drives, editing software — each of which seems to have a gazillion new variations. The truth is this is a new frontier for most of us.

It is no different for Memphis Digital Arts (MeDiA) Co-op founders Morgan Jon Fox, Denny Henke, Brandon Hutchinson, and Joshua Peter Laurenzi. Even though these guys between the ages of 19 and 32 have single-handedly produced, written, directed, and distributed a feature-length film and documentary and some 21 short films, they’ll be the first to admit they have a lot to learn.

These longtime friends are genuinely amazed at the public’s interest in the co-op since its open house March 15th at the First Congregational Church on Cooper. Part of the success of the co-op has largely to do with the introduction of weekly workshops, which cover everything from camera selection and accessorizing to case studies in which local filmmakers relate to the workshop audience their rocky roads to completed films.

“Every time I tell someone who’s asking how many people come to the workshops, ’40 or so,’ they can’t believe that many people are coming,” says Hutchinson, who, besides working on a new film he refers to as The Madman, has helped with various short films and, most recently, a documentary about September 11th called Where We’re Bound.

Wendy Turner, a workshop regular, says that her aspiration to document her mother’s illness was just a distant idea until she saw a flyer for the co-op workshops at Otherlands. Says Turner, “You hear now, because of the digital wave, that it’s so much more accessible, but, still, you need a camera and you need the editing software. So the workshops are kind of laying the groundwork for anyone to come in. It really just amazes me that they’re doing this.”

Matt Goad, who is involved in a high school television program and has been able to realize his own feature film, It’s About Jack, says of that first night, “We just showed up and met all these people who were really interested in us, and we were really interested in them and their projects. It’s a community.”

One of the many things that keep people coming back to the workshops is the open approach to learning. Though Fox, Henke, Hutchinson, and Laurenzi are definitely providing a solid leadership for the organization, they are not positioning themselves as digital gurus.

“You’re not as much a student as you are a peer learning side-by-side, and I like that format, because I respect what they know and they respect what I know and because of that we can learn a lot more and grow,” says Goad, who usually ends up hanging out after the workshops for an hour or so just talking to everyone.

Up until this point, the screening options for digital filmmakers were few: an expensive night at a commercial theater or an equally expensive digital projector rental, which still leaves you with no venue. The MeDiA Co-op has a nice theater, which seats up to 135, and a digital projector. And it’s free.

“We want to become the art house. We can show anyone’s film here at any time. If someone wants to show their film here for free [no admission], that’s fine, and if someone wants to charge admission, we take 20 percent, which will go to us as well as the church,” says Fox, whose Three Minutes Based On the Revolution Of the Sun played a crucial role in the realization of the co-op.

Besides weekly workshops, the four also began a series of month-long workshops designed to teach selected students Final Cut Pro, one of the more difficult editing programs. Their hope is that those students will return the favor.

“You know the concept that a lot of literacy groups use? Each one teach one. If out of four people we teach we can get two of them to help with the next workshops and just carry it over, then maybe we can take some time off,” says Henke, who is helping Hutchinson with The Madman as well as shooting a documentary.

At this point, the co-op’s fuel is the spare time and hard work of four individuals and the church’s generosity with its facilities. And funding is basically nonexistent. Laurenzi says the group has no illusions about the future. “We know the only way this is going to grow is not from us four. The only way it’s going to grow is from others. So many people have already approached us and said, ‘Hey, I want to help do this.'”

Indeed, everyone around these guys seems more than willing to fund the organization the cooperative way — with time and energy.

“I’m definitely at the point where if they just need me to stand out in freezing weather holding the boom mike up, I’ll do it,” says workshop regular Lee Johnson with a laugh.

Everyone in the cooperative will soon have his or her chance to show how appreciative they are. From August 23rd through the 25th, MeDiA will host its first film festival.

If you wish to submit a film for festival consideration, you can download a submission form at www.mediaco-op.org or call 278-9077. If you would like to make a donation of time or money to MeDiA, call or stop by the First Congregational Church at 1000 S. Cooper.

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Opinion

Busting Rhymes

Tomorrow morning some poet may, like Byron, wake up to find himself famous — for having written a novel, for having killed his wife; it will not be for having written a poem.

— Randall Jarrell

April is the cruelest month,” T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land begins, and so begins poet Charles Bernstein’s essay “Against National Poetry Month As Such.” In that essay, Bernstein laments the annual ritual of dragging poets into the spotlight in order to be humiliated by claims that “their products have not achieved sufficient market penetration and must be revived … lest the art form collapse from its own incompetence, irrelevance.” The resulting message to America: a degrading “Poetry’s not so bad, really.”

Mary Leader, a poet who teaches at the University of Memphis, sympathizes with Bernstein’s despair at what she calls this month’s “Poetry is for everyone! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!” campaign. “I don’t take the point that anyone who can read, can read poetry. But I do think that it has in common with very deep art forms an appeal that people may not be able to explain,” says Leader.

It’s an appeal actively highlighted by the Academy of American Poets, which boasts on its Web site (without any real evidence) that since National Poetry Month’s inception in April 1996, the initiative “has grown exponentially, with an estimated audience that now reaches into the tens of millions.”

And, truly, former poet laureate Robert Pinsky did much to give validity to the claim. His popular “Favorite Poem Project” sent the message that everyone — your baker, your garbage collector, even your first lady — has a favorite poem. The project is an archive of short documentary-style film clips where “ordinary” and “extraordinary” people are shown discussing and reciting their favorite poems. Though the project didn’t uncover a secret America with an unbridled enthusiasm for poetry, it did give the sense that poetry was still hanging around in some important, if neglected, corners of our consciousness.

But here in Memphis (like the rest of America), April is merely the month our taxes are due. There isn’t a lot of talk about poetry on the local evening news or around the office water cooler, but there are weekly open-mics at many of the local coffee shops, where people pull poems out of their back pockets and their laptops. In a world where literary magazines die almost as quickly as they’re born, the fact that one of our own, River City, is getting ready to celebrate its 25th anniversary with a special “Elvis” issue in May is something for Memphis to be proud of.

But poems have not, despite Maya Angelou’s new greeting-card line and Jewel’s lyric efforts, achieved any market penetration to speak of. And in all fairness, there are so many thousands of bad poems out there, who knows where to begin to find the good ones? Certainly not at our local super-bookstore chains, where maybe one measly shelf offers (at best) only the broadest sampling of dead poets (including Jim Morrison) and a handful of contemporaries who have managed to land a Pulitzer or a National Book Award (or record deal). And who can blame the stores? Selling poetry is no way to run a business. If the industry were really only interested in selling poems, they would print them on toilet paper.

“In this country, we tend to measure things census-style, and numbers are not the only way to measure the impact of something,” says Leader, who offers, half-jokingly, a “trickle-down poetics” based on the idea that when language changes, the world changes.

According to Leader, “There is no one who is engaged as intensively at changing language, in pushing language, in refining language — nobody labors in that field exclusively, except for poets and possibly lawyers.”

“It’s not a bad thing to suggest that people read poems,” says Little Rock-based poet Ralph Burns, who just stepped down as editor-in-chief of Crazyhorse, a renowned literary magazine started in California in 1960 by Tom McGrath. (For the inaugural issue, McGrath wrote a manifesto that laid out the type of poetry the magazine would publish: “Crazyhorse will gentle its own mustangs and stomp its own snakes, and we aren’t interested in either the shrunken trophies of the academic head hunters nor in those mammoth cod-pieces stuffed with falsies, the primitive invention of the Nouveau Beat.”)

“It’s not because it’s spinach and it’s good for you that you should learn your Tennyson the same way you should take your vitamin A,” says Leader, “but because it’s a vital art form. And because in the hands of its best makers, it makes an object of art that cannot be made any other way.”

For more information on National Poetry Month and a more comprehensive selection of poetry, go to the Academy of American Poets Web site at www.poets.org. Robert Pinsky’s Favorite Poem Project can be accessed at www.favoritepoem.org. River City can be purchased at local bookstores. For more information on Crazyhorse, send a self-addressed stamped envelope to Crazyhorse, Department of English, College of Charleston, Charleston, SC 29424.

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Music Music Features

Delta-grown

It’s fun to see how people react to our music,” says drummer Beau Crouch of Memphis-grown jam band Delta Grass. “That’s the best thing about doing what we do. Everybody who’s involved in the family of Delta Grass has already given each other success, so it’s a nice little bonus when you see people happy and, you know, shocked a little that we’re doing this.”

Delta Grass took me by surprise too on a recent Sunday evening. It was just another night, drizzling and cold, and I assumed I wasn’t in for much — just another band, another night I would go home disappointed or, at most, unaffected. But there was a bit of ambience contributing to the scene inside Earnestine & Hazel’s. Set up in a corner under a neon sign in the brothel-turned-bar’s large picture window, the band was a perfect silhouette emitting a red glow. Tuba-player Sean Murphy was sitting on a large pillow, lighting incense while everyone else set up.

The opening act, a singer-songwriter named Andrew Couch, sat on a stool with his guitar, strumming out some really wonderful songs that echoed Nick Drake. At some point, Beau Crouch joined in and, one by one, the rest of the band followed.

I can’t say exactly when Delta Grass took over and satellite member Couch acted as accompaniment, but in the transition the experience morphed into something much different from my expectations.

Perhaps it was the tuba or Crouch’s intuitive drumming. Maybe it was keyboardists Gerald Stephens and Gokhan Somel exchanging noodly improvisations or bassist J.D. Westmoreland’s voice. Whatever happened, it affected everyone present, even the group of six or so who came in just to eat and were bent on being as loud as possible. They ended up standing there with their to-go boxes, riveted to the floor, when Murphy got on the didgeridoo.

Delta Grass’ music is both thoroughly composed and loosely composed, worked out beforehand and worked out in the middle of a gig. It can be chromatic, traveling the half-steps of the Western scale, but you will also hear hints of the Middle East, Australia, India, and China as well as European folk, traditional Memphis, Mississippi Delta, and New Orleans.

“And that may be in one song,” Stephens says with a laugh.

The band does not stick to a rigid set list. The music changes depending on the night you happen to hear them, depending on who is playing with them, depending on what mood they are in, and depending on the audience and venue. “We do have songs. It’s just that we may decide to play them this way one night and that way the next,” says Murphy.

Like many in the band, Murphy is a formally trained musician. He also taught himself to play the Aboriginal didgeridoo about three years ago using the same circular breathing technique he uses for the tuba. Murphy learned the technique, which involves taking air in through the nose continuously while breathing out through the mouth, on the way home from band camp in high school. (Murphy makes his didgeridoos out of PVC pipe, but they are traditionally made from eucalyptus branches hollowed out by termites.)

Delta Grass didn’t become a full-fledged band until about a year ago, when longtime friends Westmoreland and Crouch rekindled an old ideal: a band making music constantly changing yet rooted, changed (and rooted) by its place, its culture, and its members. A band that resists traditional hierarchies in favor of one whose individual members contribute equally.

“A lot of times in bands there’s a certain role-playing that goes on, but, for our ears, we’re listening to a song and taking turns making the gestures, like you would try to communicate in a conversation,” says Crouch, who contributes vocals in addition to drumming duties.

Crouch and Westmoreland started playing together some 12 years ago, during which time they played for the experimental percussion ensemble Patoombah. Four months after they became Delta Grass, Stephens and Murphy started playing with them. Since then the band have become regulars at a host of local bars and clubs as well as festivals in other states.

Like many Memphis bands, Delta Grass can’t be tagged by genre. There is no nice, neat label they can be filed under. And because of the wide-ranging tastes and influences of each of its band members, they are hard-pressed to come up with a label for themselves.

“I don’t think we want to get stuck labeled a ‘musician’s band’ because we do care about sending a message out to everyone’s ears, not just musicians’ ears,” says Crouch.

Westmoreland, whose solo album, Soon Be Crows In the Garden, was released in March 2000, recalls a festival the band played in Georgia where a group of onlookers said loud enough for him to hear, “I don’t know what they’re doing. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I couldn’t tell if they liked it, disliked it, or what, but they were there. They didn’t walk off,” says Westmoreland.

Delta Grass is a core group of musicians, but these guys will be the first to let you know that the band also includes a diverse group of satellite musicians, including Somel, whose new composition, “Alone,” was recently debuted by the Memphis Symphony Orchestra. Other sometime members include Jason Leftwich on flute, Jamie Beiber on cello, and Didem Somel on violin, along with PR-man Brent Wolverton, who, the band insists (though he doesn’t play an instrument), is a member.

And the group doesn’t seem intent on hardening the parameters of this communal style anytime soon. “[Doing it this way] is just more fun than saying this is MY thing. This is MY act,” says Stephens. The rest of the band nods in agreement.

Information on Delta Grass, including performance dates, band info, and recordings of live performances, including the single “Antipop,” can be heard on their Web site, Deltagrass.com.


local beat

by CHRIS HERRINGTON

Perhaps you’ve read about the Memphis Country Blues Festivals held at the Overton Park Shell back in the late ’60s in Robert Gordon’s alternative history It Came From Memphis. Or perhaps you remember them firsthand. Well, this weekend brings an event that can’t help but evoke those legendary bills as local independent promoter Brent Harding presents The Overton Park Shell Country Blues Festival on Saturday, March 30th, at the venerable venue, with a lineup that boasts some of the area’s best blues talent.

Octogenarian and local treasure Othar Turner and his Rising Star Fife and Drum Band will kick things off at 2 p.m. They will be followed at 3 by the Beale-and-beyond duo Blind Mississippi Morris and Brad Webb, joined here by Robert Nighthawk. Exciting up-and-comer Richard Johnston, with new band The Foothill Stompers, will play at 4:30. Oxford-based R.L. Burnside collaborators The Kenny Brown Band will take the stage at 6. And the show will be closed out by the blues-based Cosmic American Music of Alvin Youngblood Hart, who will play from 7:30 to 9.

Admission to the event, some of which will be broadcast by live remote on 107.5 FM “The Pig,” is $10 in advance and $12 the day of the show. Advance tickets are available at Shangri-La Records, Tater Red’s on Beale, and Uncle Buck’s Records in Oxford. —Chris Herrington

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A New Vintage

You may or may not have noticed the place as you cursed your way along Madison Avenue from downtown through that half-mile or so of constructionless oasis near Dunlap. You were probably too busy dreading the next horrendous section of orange cones, backhoes, and men with flags to notice a multicolored neon sign reading “Threads” tucked under “The Complex” sign at 750 Madison. You probably didn’t have a chance to look inside and see that Threads is a new addition to Memphis’ vintage clothing scene.

If you walk into Threads, you’ll soon be browsing racks of real vintage gems, all reasonably priced and hand-picked from a warehouse in Atlanta by a small, fashionable man with short dreadlocks. He calls himself Ekundayo, and he’ll be the one holding a trumpet (he’s teaching himself to play a little) or a stack of play scripts or maybe a bucket of paint. He’ll definitely have a phone in hand. Ekundayo is managing a barrage of phone calls these days, because vintage clothing is only the beginning of his dream.

Ekundayo has big plans for this unlikely spot. He has begun the Curtain Theater, a space for drama productions, and manages “704 Place” behind Threads, a new venue for local musicians, poets, and even drag queens.

Ekundayo grew up in Memphis and Brooklyn, has written and directed 12 plays, and was named the Best New Playwright by the American Thespian Society in 1991. He has spent the past five years in Memphis devoting most of his time to his novel, Neither God Nor Master.

When a friend, Curtis Braden, obtained the space on Madison, Ekundayo and he began to research the possibilities. “At first Curtis was talking about a hip-hop clothing store,” Ekundayo says. “Well, I don’t wear hip-hop clothes, so I convinced him to let me go with a vintage store, because I’ve had trouble getting good vintage here.”

With the help of Lauren Benjamin, who is partly responsible for the groovy design of the store, Ekundayo opened Threads on September 22nd as a birthday present to himself. What followed was a series of what he calls “omens,” the first of which was Harry Bryce leaving the Memphis Black Repertory Theater.

“When that happened I was like, man, that’s going to leave a serious void in the city. I knew the Black Rep was going to take a little time to recoup after that. That was the first omen.”

The second omen occurred when a group of actors came into Threads to buy clothes and began talking to him about the expense of trying to put on new plays in Memphis and about not having any work.

“So I was looking at that void,” says Ekundayo. “I was thinking, Not only are there a lot of actors in this city who don’t have work, there are a lot of playwrights who don’t have a venue.”

That’s when he decided to start the Curtain Theater. Unlike other local theaters which charge as much as $200 a night for stage-use, the Curtain space will be free to playwrights whose work is accepted for production. Ekundayo will also provide local actors, publicity, and, the best part, everyone will get paid a little, even the playwright.

“So instead of them having to go and pawn stuff to get money, they will actually be making money,” says Ekundayo.

Though Ekundayo’s stage is modest — a raised platform in the middle of a converted clothing store — it does begin the work of filling in a big hole for local struggling playwrights and actors. It means they don’t have to put themselves in financial jeopardy to get the important early experience of mounting a show from the ground up.

The Curtain Theater is already booked into the summer, but as early as March playwrights will be asked to submit scripts for review by a committee of readers. Scripts chosen will be booked for a month-long run at the theater. Scripts that don’t make the cut will receive feedback from the committee so that a mentoring process begins for submitters.

“The whole idea is to develop playwrights. We’re not just going to reject a script. We’ll give them reasons why we can’t do it, and if they correct those reasons then we’ll produce it,” says Ekundayo.

A poetry open-mic event called “Words From the Basement” is held every Saturday at 10 p.m. in 704 Place, which is situated just behind Threads. And, indeed, the room is very basement-like — windowless and dark, lit by candles and colored lights from the catwalk. It also has a full bar (or you can bring your own) and cozy little tea tables. As many as 200 people have shown up to listen to local performance poets offer their social commentary on everything from media exploitation and homelessness to prayer and Perkins restaurant.

Ekundayo also hopes to start a weekly drag show and wants to offer a new venue for local musicians. The idea is to become a crossroads of sorts, where Memphis’ many subcultures can be represented.

“I have deep roots here. I want to give something back to Memphis,” says Ekundayo.

I Remember Ghost, the Curtain Theater’s debut play about three struggling artists, was written, directed, and produced by Ekundayo himself and will open this weekend. It will run until March 3rd.

For more information about any of the events held at Threads and for tickets and show times, call 522-8607. Or just stop by 750 Madison Avenue to take a look around.

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Self – addressed

I used to be really afraid that I would never be able to do meaningful-
enough work to compete with my mother,” says Rebecca Walker, daughter of
renowned author, poet, and activist Alice Walker, “but I don’t really have
that anymore. I feel really grounded in what I do.”

Walker has worked very hard to claim her own place in the writing and
political world. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and
periodicals, including The New York Times Magazine, Harper’s,
Elle, Ms., and Spin. She edited an anthology which
explores young women’s struggles to redefine feminism, To Be Real: Telling
the Truth and Changing the Face Of Feminism
, as well as a collection of
writings by young women titled Body Outlaws. She has spoken around the
country on behalf of the Third Wave Foundation, an organization made up of
primarily young, multicultural feminists, which she founded in 1992. She was
also named one of the 50 future leaders of America under 40 by
Time.

Right now she’s beginning a second round of promoting for her
autobiography, Black White and Jewish: Autobiography Of a Shifting Self
(Riverhead Books), which was first released last year and has
recently come out in paperback.

Black White and Jewish is a moving collection of very personal and
revealing moments from Walker’s life growing up as the daughter of a black,
Pulitzer Prize-winning mother and a white, Jewish father, former NAACP lawyer
Mel Leventhal.

“I spent the whole time I was writing [the book] basically terrified that
if I told my story my parents wouldn’t love me anymore, or they’d be angry at
me,” Walker says. “You know it’s hard for parents to look at the decisions
they made and how it might have affected their kids in a way that wasn’t so
great.”

Walker’s parents were married in the Sixties, when, among the many other
movements that deconstructed norms, the radical voice of Martin Luther King
and the civil rights movement were at full strength.

Walker writes, “I was born in 1969, in Jackson, Mississippi, seventeen
months after Dr. King was shot. When my mother went into labor my father was
in New Orleans arguing a case on behalf of black people who didn’t have
streetlights or sewage systems in their neighborhoods.”

According to Walker, with the rise of Black Power in the Seventies, her
parents’ “interracial defiance” and euphoria began to deflate. “Black-on-black
love” became the new way of revolution.

“The only problem, of course, is me. My little copper-colored body that
no longer makes sense. I am a remnant, a throwaway, a painful reminder of a
happier and more optimistic but ultimately unsustainable time. Who am I if I
am not a Movement Child?” writes Walker.

Walker writes in fragments not long chronological narratives. It’s a
gutsy style which allows the reader to make some of her own inferences as to
why certain memories are juxtaposed with other memories. Meaning surfaces
slowly.

“I was looking for an ‘I,’ a self in writing, words, in pages, that
really was a good representation of the way I experienced myself, and so that
fragmentive form became the way I do that — that sense of constantly moving
back and forth between then and now and between different places,” says
Walker. “I came out of it feeling much more whole and integrated. And also it
was about adolescence, and I think it allowed me to just put all those
adolescent issues to bed and move into adulthood without so much baggage and
confusion.”

Having through her memoir shed some of her inner turmoil, Walker isn’t
sweating the outside pressure either. On her recent recognition from Time,
Walker says, “I was really flattered, and it’s nice when people say things
about you, but I don’t really think of it as real. It has some reality,
I guess, but I can’t live my life thinking about Time magazine.

Rebecca Walker will be reading and signing books at Square Books (662-
536-2262) in Oxford on Tuesday, January 22nd, at 5 p.m. and at Davis-Kidd
Booksellers (683-9801) on Wednesday, January 23rd, at 6 p.m.

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Night Moves

For New Year’s Eve, you could:

Break out all the pictures of your exes. Make sure that you are alone. Bust out a gallon of tequila and toast each picture by listing the many ways you are better off without a particular ex. Every time you think of a new reason you are better off, take another shot until you are crying and throwing up all over the carpet and calling out, “Mama, it hurts, it hurts! Why didn’t you tell me it was going to hurt like this?”

Or you could watch the ball drop with Grandma (or on Grandma). How about, if you’re straight, going out with your gay friends (or vice versa) to ensure a very unsatisfying and insincere New Year’s kiss? Or why not try utilizing data from the NCAA’s Bowl Championship Series Formula to tabulate what it would have taken for the U of M football team to qualify for a New Year’s Day bowl game?

Need more of a challenge? 1) Come up — once and for all — with the term we’re supposed to use for this decade. The “Oughts”? The “Twenty-hundreds”? 2) Stand in front of a mirror naked under a fluorescent light cataloging every flaw on your body. 3) Try to remember even one episode of Knight Rider.

Or, better yet, you could:

On Beale Street

Get down at ALFRED’S (197 Beale, 525-3711) with the party tunes of Nation. Or how about the Beale Street TAP ROOM (168 Beale, 527-4392, $10 cover)? Corey Osborne & The Rhythm System will be there. Or you could always go to BLUES HALL COFFEE HOUSE (182 Beale, 528-0150, $15 cover) with the groovy sound of Stone Ground Kelly. CLUB 152 (152 Beale, 544-7011) will have The 5 That Framed O.J. in the house, or for $29.99 you could go to DICK’S LAST RESORT (340 Beale, 543-0900). The price includes reserved seating, cover charge, appetizer, entrée, dessert, survival kit (you’ll need it), and a champagne toast at midnight. Local classic-rock band Cherry Bomb is playing. $10 cover.

ELVIS PRESLEY’S MEMPHIS (126 Beale, 527-9036) is hosting an elegant dinner with reserved seating, party favors, and a champagne toast at midnight for $65. The Alexander Band will be there, and who knows, maybe He’ll show up. Gabby Johnson will be rockin’ at the HARD ROCK CAFE (315 Beale, 529-0007, $10 cover), party favors and champagne provided, door prizes and food into the wee hours of the morning. People have spent many a New Year’s Eve at KING’S PALACE CAFE (162 Beale, 521-1851). This year you could grab some jazz from The Charlie Wood Trio with Renardo Ward (5:30-9:30 p.m.) and stay for the rock group Crash Into June (10 p.m.-2 a.m.) or get out on the patio for the Memphis James Trio, all for a $10 cover.

The Fast Connections Band is LEGENDS On Beale‘s (326 Beale, 523-7444) house band and said to be wearing it out on a regular basis. The NEW DAISY Theatre (330 Beale, 525-8979) is featuring hard-rock bands In The Balance, Logic 34, Piston Honda, My Surrender, and New Foundation for only an $8 cover — doors open at 7 p.m. For a good ol’ fashioned Liberty Bowl party, the folks at O’SULLIVAN’S (183 Beale, 522-9596) invite you to come before the game, during, and after. You could dine at the RUM BOOGIE CAFE (182 Beale) and be entertained by The Delta Cats from 5:30 to 9:30 p.m. followed up by James Govan & The Boogie Blues Band at 10 p.m. Prices range from $55 to $85 and include a three-course dinner with two complimentary drinks per person, party favors and a gift, and one bottle of champagne per couple (for reservations call 528-0150). $15 cover charge at the door.

Collierville/Cordova/Germantown

Join the folks at BOSCOS (7615 West Farmington Blvd., in Saddlecreek, 756-7310) for a special evening, including Carol Plunk‘s brand of folk rock, a four-course meal, and limited-edition Boscos beer — all for $60. You could dance to the music selections of DJ Keith Autry, or you could eat a delicious four-course dinner, or you could do both at EQUESTRIA Restaurant & Lounge (3165 Forest Hill-Irene Road, 869-2663). HUEY’S in Cordova (1771 N. Germantown Parkway, 754-3885) will feature The Lakesiders starting at 9 p.m. for a $5 cover. The JONES CLUB (1275 Hezekiah Rd., 309-3007, $6 cover) will feature reggae and R&B from DJ Hip Hop and free champagne. Join Chaser at TJ MULLIGAN’S (8071 Trinity Road, 756-4480, $7 cover) for a champagne toast.

Downtown

Direct from Ireland, musician Terry McElroy will be at the DAN MCGUINESS PUB (150 Peabody Place, 2nd Street, 527-8500), and there will be Irish dancers in the mall from 10 to 11 p.m. EARNESTINE & HAZEL’S (531 S. Main, 523-9754) is only charging $10 for party favors, free cocktail beverages (a real bonus), and live music upstairs. THE FLYING SAUCER (130 Peabody Place, 523-8536) has like 3 gazillion beers on tap and they’re serving them up “Mardis Gras”-style (not sure what that means, but it probably involves nudity) with live entertainment provided by Aqua Net. Parallel Parker will be at HUEY’S (77 S. Second, 527-2700) $5 cover. Hot-buttered ISAAC HAYES will be performing at his signature restaurant and club located in Peabody Place. Seating is limited, so call 529-9222 today. You could head down to THE PEABODY for their Lobby Bar Party featuring jazz/blues artist Di Anne Price & Her Boyfriends and lots of extras ($25 cover).

Okay, we’re getting hungry just thinking about these choices: papaya and mango grilled lobster and broiled beef tenderloin stuffed with sun-dried tomato pesto and coated with cracked-pepper demi-glace (and that’s just the beginning!). The price is right — only $35.95 — at RIALTO’S Restaurant & Bar (135 S. Main, 432-3675). SLEEP OUT LOUIE’S (88 Union, 527-5337) will have The Brian Sharp Band. Join folk musician Rick McKean, who will be rockin’ at TJ MULLIGAN’S (362 N. Main, 523-1453) from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. for a champagne toast (no cover!).

East Memphis

Get a room! The ADAM’S MARK’s (939 Ridge Lake Blvd.) dinner, party and guest room, plus Klockwork and Pam & The Passions playing classic and contemporary hits. Music starts at 9 p.m. Call 684-6664 for information on prices and reservations. THE BOTTOM LINE (1817 Kirby Parkway, 755-2481) will have party giveaways, a free champagne toast, and The Plaintiffs starting at 9:30 p.m. No Cover at PATRICK’S (4698 Spottswood, 682-2853) and The Fabulous Steeler Band will provide the entertainment. Sekisui PACIFIC RIM will be serving its regular menu (if you could call it regular) until 2 a.m. with free champagne at midnight.

Frayser/Millington

CLUB 51 (6560 Highway 51, 872-0151) is going to get rowdy with a hybrid band called The Killer Minks, featuring Mike Wade and Mike Steele. VFW Post 4916 (847 Whitney Ave., 353-2118) for a New Year’s Eve party? Sources say they really know how to have a good time. Their New Year’s breakfast will be served after midnight and goes for $25 per couple.

Hickory Hill/Southeast

CAFE ROCK (3297 Kirby Parkway, 366-4395) will offer free champagne and party favors along with live entertainment from the Back Street Crawlers and a breakfast special at midnight. The cover into this party is $25 per couple and $15 if you’re solo. C.O.D. will be at TJ MULLIGAN’S (6635 Kirby, 753-8056, $5 cover).

Midtown

If herbed lobster and wild-mushroom spring rolls or black-mushroom-crusted loin of lamb or vanilla bean and raspberry crème brûlée sound good, then you just might want to call THE BLUE MOON (3092 Poplar in Chickasaw Oaks Plaza, 324-4131) and ask about its four-course New Year’s dinner. Celtic rockers, The Sally Macs will be at the BLUE MONKEY (3092 Poplar in Chickasaw Oaks Plaza, 272-BLUE) and The Revelators will be at HUEY’S (1927 Madison Ave., 726-4372, $5 cover). KOTO (22 South Cooper) is offering a menu of lovely Japanese-French fusion cuisine for $60 per person. To make reservations call 722-2244. DJ Carol will be serving up dance tunes at MADISON FLAME (1588 Madison Ave., 278-9839) for a $10 cover that includes party favors and champagne. The FRENCH QUARTER SUITES (2144 Madison Ave.) is offering a $189 package that includes a suite for two, a bottle of Totts champagne, souvenir champagne glasses, party favors, live entertainment by Todd Hale, and a late checkout time (1 p.m.) for the day after (call 728-4000). One of Memphis’ favorite roots-rock bands, Lucero, plus Snowglobe, will be playing at The HI-TONE (1913 Poplar, 278-TONE).

MELANGE (948 S. Cooper) is offering music from DJs Sean O.D. and Brad Stylus late into the night. Call 276-0002 for reservations. And at NEIL’S (1835 Madison Ave., 278-6345) there will be no cover but plenty of party favors and music by DJ Neil himself. The folks at P&H CAFE (1532 Madison Ave., 726-0906) are always fun to party with anytime, and on New Year’s they will feature live entertainment from Eric Lewis. There will be no cover at the YOUNG AVENUE DELI (2119 Young Ave., 278-0034) — but there will be no band either. There will be some undisclosed party freebies.

University of Memphis

Grizlo, The Emily Patterson Band, and Pheenaphonic will be NEWBY’S (539 S. Highland, 452-8408).

Tunica

The Venus Mission will be playing dance music from the ’80s at the ISLE OF CAPRI CASINO (877-711-4753) in Tunica. At BALLY’S (800-38-BALLY), Jason D. Williams, and patriotic Lee Greenwood at GRAND CASINO (800-39-GRAND). Dr. Zarr’s Amazing Funk Monster plays HARRAH’S (800-HARRAHS).

Raleigh/Bartlett

STAGE STOP (2951 Cela, Austin Peay at Stage Rd., 382-1577) is featuring live entertainment from T.N.A., a local band that became popular in the mid-’80s, Sinister’s Grin, a new band from the Shelby Forest area, and Medicine Man out of Nashville. All this plus party favors and dance music from DJ Slick Rick for only an $8 cover charge.

Plus,

The Memphis Symphony Orchestra will feature Broadway vocalist Craig Schulman for a special New Year’s Eve performance beginning at 8 p.m. at the GERMANTOWN PERFORMING ARTS CENTRE. Call 324-3627. “Alternatives For Single Adults” sounds, well, like something you might see in the classifieds of the Flyer, but since this event is hosted by BELLEVUE BAPTIST CHURCH, it’s not. Instead, they’re going to have live spoofs of vintage television shows, Belgian waffles, create-your-own omelets, coffee, espresso and a chocolate fondue bar. This will cost you $25 unless you are a single parent ($15). Call 347-5780 for advance tickets. Friends and supporters of HANDS ON MEMPHIS will once again ring in the New Year at the organization’s annual ball, one of its largest fund-raisers. And this year the party has been moved downtown to the beautiful Cadre Building (149 Monroe) and features Shagadoo, a 5-piece eclectic funk band from the Delta, and DJ Stash, a hip vinyl spinner from Nashville. This black-tie event sells out to a crowd of 800, so get your tickets early by calling 725-2132. Ticket price is $90 per person.

Categories
We Recommend We Recommend

Oh. Brother

Around 1971, in a dorm room at the University of California at Santa Cruz, a biology major and a literature major met. They happened to hit it off with a shared, though rudimentary, interest in juggling.

But maybe it wasn’t juggling. It could have been tightrope-walking or fire-eating that Paul Magid (Dmitri) and Howard Jay Patterson (Ivan) began on a long journey that would eventually lead to the comedy act the Flying Karamazov Brothers. Or maybe it was that uncommon vein that runs through the limbs of born performers. That and a willingness to take a lot of risks.

The Flying Karamazov Brothers take their name from Dostoyevski’s novel The Brothers Karamazov. Besides its two founding members, the group includes Mark Ettinger (Alexei) and Roderick Kimball (Pavel). These guys are not brothers, and all the flying is done by balls, pins, clubs, meat cleavers, and other objects designed to dazzle.

Patterson and Magid spent the early part of their career as the opening act for university productions. Upon graduation, they decided to take a chance and moved to San Francisco to become famous.

“We knew what graduate school meant, and so we figured we’d make enough money to pay for [it] by performing for a couple of years. We still haven’t been back, but it’s not too late!” says Patterson.

The Brothers’ first full show, Juggling and Cheap Theatrics, was a series of acts at a dinner theater in Minneapolis, which led to the Ritz Theatre on Broadway in 1983. Since then, they have had three other stints on Broadway and have brought their blend of great juggling and bad jokes to audiences all over the world.

Catch!, their latest — originally titled Broadway Bound … and Gagged until September 11th — is a tour of some of their most popular stunts from the past, including traditional juggling of ordinary items (you know, torches, sickles, and hatchets), as well as a tribute to the art of Japanese taiko festival drumming (on cardboard boxes, of course).

Music is a very important part of the show. Says Patterson, “We like to make music in the process of juggling, because we think juggling is visual music.” The show also includes their version of musical chairs, called “musical clubs,” which wouldn’t be so unusual except the Brothers are the ones doing the singing (Irving Berlin’s “Isn’t This a Lovely Day”).

Audiences members participate by challenging Patterson to juggle objects brought from home in a segment of the show called “The Gamble.” Says Patterson, “If I can’t juggle it, then I get a pie in the face. If I can, I get a standing ovation.” Patterson says he’s juggled some very strange things, including ice cream, livers, and a pig stomach stuffed with lime jello. But by far the strangest was a nine-and-a-half-pound dead octopus.

“I couldn’t juggle it. It was too slippery, but the audience gave me the standing ovation anyway,” recalls Patterson.

Although the Gamble is open to the absurd, there are a few stipulations: “I won’t juggle any live animals or anything that could keep me from being a live animal,” states Patterson. “It has to be smaller than a bread box, and I do get to modify the objects up to three times. For example, if someone brings a switchblade, I might close the blade.”

Audiences are also encouraged to bring balls from home (or purchase them at the show) for the portion of Catch! where audience members learn to juggle and compete for the “Wooba Wooba Jack Prize.”

Patterson says the thing he remembers most about Memphis from the last time the Brothers toured here is the barbecue. “I got out of the cab and it was the first thing I smelled. I didn’t even check into my hotel; I went straight for the barbecue place.”

Barbecue? Perhaps a few handfuls of sticky shredded pork would make a good gamble.

Tickets for the 8 p.m., December 7th show of Catch! can be purchased for $29 at the Germantown Performing Arts Centre box office at 1801 Exeter Road, by phone at 757-7256, or online at www.GPACweb.com.

Categories
We Recommend We Recommend

Oh. Brother

Around 1971, in a dorm room at the University of California at Santa Cruz, a biology major and a literature major met. They happened to hit it off with a shared, though rudimentary, interest in juggling.

But maybe it wasn’t juggling. It could have been tightrope-walking or fire-eating that Paul Magid (Dmitri) and Howard Jay Patterson (Ivan) began on a long journey that would eventually lead to the comedy act the Flying Karamazov Brothers. Or maybe it was that uncommon vein that runs through the limbs of born performers. That and a willingness to take a lot of risks.

The Flying Karamazov Brothers take their name from Dostoyevski’s novel The Brothers Karamazov. Besides its two founding members, the group includes Mark Ettinger (Alexei) and Roderick Kimball (Pavel). These guys are not brothers, and all the flying is done by balls, pins, clubs, meat cleavers, and other objects designed to dazzle.

Patterson and Magid spent the early part of their career as the opening act for university productions. Upon graduation, they decided to take a chance and moved to San Francisco to become famous.

“We knew what graduate school meant, and so we figured we’d make enough money to pay for [it] by performing for a couple of years. We still haven’t been back, but it’s not too late!” says Patterson.

The Brothers’ first full show, Juggling and Cheap Theatrics, was a series of acts at a dinner theater in Minneapolis, which led to the Ritz Theatre on Broadway in 1983. Since then, they have had three other stints on Broadway and have brought their blend of great juggling and bad jokes to audiences all over the world.

Catch!, their latest — originally titled Broadway Bound … and Gagged until September 11th — is a tour of some of their most popular stunts from the past, including traditional juggling of ordinary items (you know, torches, sickles, and hatchets), as well as a tribute to the art of Japanese taiko festival drumming (on cardboard boxes, of course).

Music is a very important part of the show. Says Patterson, “We like to make music in the process of juggling, because we think juggling is visual music.” The show also includes their version of musical chairs, called “musical clubs,” which wouldn’t be so unusual except the Brothers are the ones doing the singing (Irving Berlin’s “Isn’t This a Lovely Day”).

Audiences members participate by challenging Patterson to juggle objects brought from home in a segment of the show called “The Gamble.” Says Patterson, “If I can’t juggle it, then I get a pie in the face. If I can, I get a standing ovation.” Patterson says he’s juggled some very strange things, including ice cream, livers, and a pig stomach stuffed with lime jello. But by far the strangest was a nine-and-a-half-pound dead octopus.

“I couldn’t juggle it. It was too slippery, but the audience gave me the standing ovation anyway,” recalls Patterson.

Although the Gamble is open to the absurd, there are a few stipulations: “I won’t juggle any live animals or anything that could keep me from being a live animal,” states Patterson. “It has to be smaller than a bread box, and I do get to modify the objects up to three times. For example, if someone brings a switchblade, I might close the blade.”

Audiences are also encouraged to bring balls from home (or purchase them at the show) for the portion of Catch! where audience members learn to juggle and compete for the “Wooba Wooba Jack Prize.”

Patterson says the thing he remembers most about Memphis from the last time the Brothers toured here is the barbecue. “I got out of the cab and it was the first thing I smelled. I didn’t even check into my hotel; I went straight for the barbecue place.”

Barbecue? Perhaps a few handfuls of sticky shredded pork would make a good gamble.

Tickets for the 8 p.m., December 7th show of Catch! can be purchased for $29 at the Germantown Performing Arts Centre box office at 1801 Exeter Road, by phone at 757-7256, or online at www.GPACweb.com.

Categories
Cover Feature News

Where There’s Smoke …

It’s an uncommonly beautiful November Saturday. No one seems in a hurry. Even the leaves are taking their time as they drift to the ground. As I pull into a driveway on Central Avenue in Midtown Ken Robinson waves at me. He is wearing some sort of mountain-climbing get-up, suspended in mid-air from a chimney.

“Scaring squirrels out,” he shouts.

“There’s about four squirrels in that elm there,” he says once he’s on the ground again. “I’ve had to wave my arms around like a scarecrow to keep them from coming back while we’re patching up the hole.” As Robinson tells me this, his face lights up like a kid at Christmas and his arms flap. Even on this gorgeous Saturday he’s obviously happy to be working, hanging out with a family of angry squirrels on a roof with the pitch of a black-diamond ski run.

At first glance you probably wouldn’t peg Robinson as a chimney sweep. There’s no hint of Dick Van Dyke’s Mary Poppins character. With his long, braided hair he looks more like an artist or maybe a professor of some sort. Actually, if you didn’t know that he owns a macaque named Ernie, routinely sits under houses in the dark on all-night raccoon stakeouts, and has rescued an 8-foot, 70-pound ball python from a storage facility, you might write him off as an average Midtowner.

But Robinson makes his living in the smoke chambers of 100-year-old chimneys, wearing a respirator. He is a chimney sweep’s chimney sweep, having been a certification instructor for the Chimney Safety Institute of America, a director of Region Four’s National Chimney Sweep Guild for six years, and secretary and vice president of its board. He claims his business, Coopertown’s Mastersweep, Inc., is the oldest sweeping business in Shelby County and does everything from removing unwanted rodents to cleaning out dryer vents. He’s also an expert on the smoky history of his profession.

THE FIRST CHIMNEYS WERE PROBABLY BUILT around the 13th century. Soon — no doubt after a few houses had burned — it was determined that creosote, a thick tar-like substance, would build up inside chimneys and eventually catch fire. Once it became obvious that chimneys had to be regularly cleaned, numerous methods were tried: tying brush to long sticks, stuffing small trees inside, and dropping ducks down the chimney (or geese or turkeys, depending on the chimney’s size). None of these were ideal, and as houses became larger and taller the task became much more complicated. “Chimneys would go up and then turn at a 45-degree angle and then maybe turn again and maybe again,” says Robinson.

Such complex chimneys couldn’t be cleaned by a guy with a stick — or even an overactive duck — so chimney sweeps began using children. Literally.

In the 18th and early 19th centuries it was not uncommon for children to be kidnapped or taken from orphanages as early as age 3 and indentured to chimney sweeps. “[Children] were like a cork in a bottle; their body was a brush,” says Robinson. Chimney holes were called nines and eights — as in 9-by-9 inches or 8-by-8 inches — so the children had to be very small and very young. Robinson continues: “It was all they could physically do to squirm through, and that action cleaned the chimney.” Most of these children had a life expectancy of about three years, due to heavy exposure to carcinogens, suffocation, and burns.

One story Robinson recalls tells of a master sweep leaving a boy he thought was dead in a chimney. The lad was discovered by the owners of the house later, when they lit a fire. He survived and they adopted the lad. But others weren’t so fortunate. “Often they just left dead children [in the chimney] if they were in a place that didn’t block the path of smoke. It would just burn them up, dehydrate them, and all the odor would go up,” says Robinson.

Robinson recalls a story he read about an Allied spy in Germany during WWII who disguised himself as a chimney sweep and spent long periods of time hiding inside chimneys, eavesdropping. One day, while leaving a chimney, he was noticed by a guard. The spy stabbed him to death and stuffed him up the chimney onto the smoke shelf.

Though Robinson was once practically buried in an avalanche of tiny mouse skeletons, he assures me that he hasn’t ever run across anything that macabre in a chimney. He has, however, discovered secret rooms. And once, while mapping the chimneys and flues of a house in Midtown, he found a torture chamber. “I was thinking it was a joke,” he says. “A very elaborate joke.” When the owners came home they confirmed his find, but Robinson was sworn to secrecy. He continues cautiously: “I will say it was one of our well-known old political leaders. One of his chief enforcers had built the [room]. It had manacles on the walls, hooks, a drain in the center of the floor. The hidden flue I had been confused about went to an incinerator. It’s still there, I guess.”

Robinson says chimney sweeping as Americans know it really only started about 25 years ago. “They were all a bunch of hippies who weren’t afraid to get dirty and I was right in the middle of them,” he says.

Since then one of the things most chimney sweeps, including Robinson, have given up is the traditional attire — a top hat and coat with tails. The outfit is attributed to George Smart, who is credited with inventing a flexible rod-and-brush chimney-sweeping tool in 1803. (It was a welcome and humane alternative to using children.)

Smart’s closest friend was an undertaker, a profession which at that time included paying people and dressing them up to pad the crowd at funerals when the deceased lacked sufficient family and friends to fill the church. The undertaker gave his worn-out mourning clothes to Smart, who wore them to sweep chimeys. Old ragged top hats and formal coats with tails quickly became associated with the new breed of sweeps.

Now sweeps are moving away from their historical roots in favor of a more technology-centered, baseball-cap-and-khakis approach. “But we can still take our digital video cameras and other modern technologies up the chimneys with us without forgetting the historical and traditional aspects [of our profession],” says Robinson.

Like anyone who cares about his trade, Robinson has pet peeves. For instance, he hates prefabricated chimneys. While the price difference between a good masonry chimney and a prefabricated chimney can be more than $10,000, Robinson says it can also be the difference between life and death for a homeowner.

Prefab chimneys consist of a metal pipe inside another metal pipe. The air-space between the two provides the only insulation from the chimney’s heat. “The metal used in the pipes is thin enough that you can take a pocket knife and stick a hole through it,” says Robinson. The fire box is built the same way — a box within a box — only with a veneer of faux brick, so that when you and your sweetie are all cozied up in front of the fireplace it looks … real. Needless to say, Robinson prefers masonry.

There are two kinds of masonry chimneys, he says — lined and unlined. Chances are if your house and/or chimney was built within the last 55 years you have a liner. If your house is older, then you may not. A good chimney liner stands up to the high temperatures of chimney fires and will resist creosote acids, which can break down masonry. If you don’t have a liner, Robinson says, then you absolutely must clean your chimney annually. Otherwise a lot of damage could be done to your chimney and ultimately to your house.

“I love Midtown because there are real chimneys,” Robinson says. “If you go anywhere else in Memphis … if you drive up to a brand-new $1 million home there will be a $2,000 prefabricated chimney in there. The yard lights and mailbox cost more.”

And more often than not, Robinson says, the owners aren’t even aware of it. “You’ll talk to the owner and he’ll say, ‘Yeah, they tried to talk me into one of those prefab fireplaces but I wouldn’t have it.’ You hate to tell him, but …”

Robinson says using a prefabricated chimney comes with other costs, too. In 15 to 20 years (the life expectancy of current prefabs) you should be prepared to install a new one. And if anything goes wrong in the meantime, Robinson says it’s often hard to find parts. “Maybe you only need one part, but a lot of the time we can’t find it because they are constantly coming out with newer models.”

Robinson estimates that only one of every 35 to 40 prefabricated chimneys are properly installed. He tells of being at a local prefabricated fireplace dealership when the manager handed the new forklift driver a manual and sent him out to install a chimney.

Robinson concedes that if a prefab is properly installed and is kept up, it can work out fine. Just be careful, he warns, that you know who is installing it. According to Robinson, most sweeps will install one correctly for $300 to $400.

Another thing that gets him worked up is vent-free logs. According to Robinson, closing the damper is a bad idea. “Vent-free logs sound great,” he says, “but a chimney was designed for air to be sucked up as the temperature rises. The room air helps to cool everything down.” If you close the damper, Robinson says, the coolest part of your fireplace is now the hottest, and this can and has led to fires. Robinson warns: “Even the mantel can catch on fire.”

According to Robinson, the best time to get your chimney swept is in the spring or summer. During the winter months sweeps may be cleaning up to 40 chimneys a day (including Saturdays). However, no matter what the season, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fire Safety Tips From the Chimney Safety Institute Of America (CSIA)

— Starting a fire in a fireplace: Open damper and wait 10 minutes to let cold air in chimney fall into room and warmer air to rise into chimney.

— Light gas-log lighter or burn balled-up paper for about 3 minutes to establish draft.

— Add more paper balls and small dry pieces of wood and wait 10 minutes.

— Add more small wood and a couple of fire logs (be sure all wood is seasoned).

— Keep all combustibles 36 inches from fireplace openings.

— Do not hang stockings, garland, Christmas cards, or other combustibles on mantel.

— Do not burn gift wrapping, boxes, paper, or other highly combustible items in fireplace (can cause chimney fire).

— Keep tops of flames 6 inches to 8 inches below lintel (top of firebox).

— Have fireplace inspected for creosote and structural defects by a CSIA-certified chimney sweep.

— Have fireplace and chimney swept if necessary.

— Be sure damper is open.

— Keep ABC-rated fire extinguisher in home.

— Keep combustible decorations on roof away from the top of the chimney.

— Keep spark screen in front of fireplace during burning cycle.

Keep Christmas tree far away from fireplace.

Fire Numbers

United States Consumer Products Safety Commission’s Most Recent Chimney Fire Statistics (1998)

— 18,300 residential fires in the U.S. originated in chimneys, fireplaces, and solid-fuel appliances. These fires resulted in 160 personal injuries, 40 deaths, and $158.2 million in property damage.

— The Chimney Safety Institute of America (CSIA) recommends that people have inspections performed by CSIA-certified chimney sweeps. These chimney sweeps have earned the industry’s most respected credential by passing an intensive examination based on fire codes, clearances, and standards for construction. The CSIA recommends all chimneys be inspected annually.

— To receive free information about wood-burning safety and for a list of CSIA-certified chimney sweeps, call (800) 536-0118 or visit the CSIA Web site at www.csia.org.

Tips on firewood

— Wood is purchased by volume not weight. One cord equals 128 cubic feet. A contemporary cord is four feet high, four feet wide, and eight feet long.

— To judge if wood is seasoned, look for radiating splits on the cut end of the log.

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Satan’s Helpers

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot,

Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Hogwarts School Song

The greatest quality of middle-school kids is that they want to be stars. They shoot straight for the top. They want to be millionaires, models, musicians, and professional athletes. The most heartbreaking thing about middle-schoolers is that they all know what they want to be, but most of them have no idea how unrealistic their chosen profession is.

As a middle-school teacher, I don’t want to know the odds against them (I’m sure they are dismal); I prefer to feed their tremendous optimism. When I ask middle-schoolers what they’ve been reading, they tell me: only the books their English teacher requires, and almost all of them are regarded as a colossal bore.

But when I ask about Harry Potter — surprise! I discover that these little hormone machines — who curse one another in the hallways, who have friends that are nursing new infants, who have parents or siblings in prisons and gangs, who carry guns to school, who routinely dabble in cigarettes and marijuana, and who show up on Monday morning with strange injuries they won’t explain — turn into hellfire-and-brimstone ministers.

To them Harry Potter is new sleight-of-hand by Satan. And Harry Potter is real. He’s not an actor and the novels about him are not works of fiction. No, Harry is a real kid who practices witchcraft and our mommas won’t let us read Harry Potter, so don’t try, teacher.

Apparently certain moral leaders in our community have taken it upon themselves to clean up our schools and our spiritual deficiencies by targeting the Harry Potter books. Tacked up to a bulletin board in the teachers’ lounge where I work is one of those long anti-Harry Potter letters that have been making their way around Memphis and, I’m sure, every other city in the country.

As if teachers didn’t have enough to worry about already, now we have to find a way to combat this sudden outcry against an imaginary boy witch. As a writing teacher who was once considering assigning Harry Potter as a last-ditch effort at the “reading is fun” angle, I’m now tucking tail and chalking another one up to … what?

Why are ye targeting our schools, o religious ones?

Forget that the series began as a lucky break for a single mother who wrote the first book in her spare time. Forget that maybe it is one book that our students will not think is a gigantic waste of time. Because there are kids who could benefit from having a favorite book. Especially in a school system where many students can’t read very well and don’t have any plans to. Ever.

And shame on the “spiritual leaders” who have raised such a racket about a kid’s fantasy novel that students are telling us that they believe Harry Potter to be a real person in England who flies on a broom and goes to a witch school. And what can a teacher say to convince them otherwise? No matter how much influence a teacher might have, parents always have more.

It seems inconceivable that adults would be so afraid of something imaginary.

I mean, that’s the kids’ job, right?

Lesha Hurliman is a teacher for Memphis City Schools and an editorial intern at the Flyer.