Once Upon a Summer

 I recently received a youtube video link in an email from a friend.  It was a rare video of a 1952 telecast of the final game of the 1952 World Series.  Along with a small group of others on the receiving end of this clip, I began to share comments and realizations about this 70-plus-year-old game.  

It reminded me of a graduate course in media and history that I took some years ago.  In that's we spent a fair amount of time looking at old film footage, most of it rare stuff that had been recently uncovered.  I recall one clip that followed a trolly car on its route in downtown San Francisco shortly after the 1906 earthquake.  Aside from evidence of the quake, we paid particular attention to the transportation facilities, the clothing, worn, and any other glimpse of a social mores or behavior that might be present.  Most notable that day was how people dashed in and out of horsedrawn vehicles without a care in the world.

Watching this old World Series game was similar.  Game 7 in 1952 took place in Ebbets Field in Brooklyn.  The Yankees were going for their 4th consecutive title and all they had to do was beat the Dodgers this last time.  Ebbets Field had those wonderful ads on the outfield wall and an intimacy that is seldom found in the big baseball palaces today.  The telecast was sponsored by the Gillette Razor Company (who else) and featured the legendary broadcasters Red Barber and Mel Allen.  

I'm not sure how many Americans had a TV set in 1952, but I do know that it was definitely a minority of the baseball enthusiasts in the country.  They would have to wait until the newsreel hit their local movie theater one or two weeks later to actually see the game.  Radios were on that day all over the country.

So what did this little gem of a video yield?  Here are the highlights.  In 1952 people dressed up to go to the ballpark.  At least to the World Series.  In pan shots of the crowd, the men wore suits and ties.  They and the women in the crowd smoked...constantly.  There was no instant reply so if you missed some of the action, you had to wait until the film was developed to see a dramatic play like the catch Billy Martin made.

You saw Yogi Berra, Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Billy Martin, and of course the antics of HoF manager Casey Stengel.  In one inning both Jackie Robinson and Roy Campanella beat out bunt singles.  Jackie yes, but Campanella...who knew?  

These players were working-class guys, I was reminded by another observer.  The strength of Johnny Mize or Gil Hodges was the kind developed from lifting heavy boxes or doing the work of tradesmen.  No steroid sculpted bodies in 1952.  The uniforms were baggy, if not drab.  Baseball was mostly in black and white back then.  Most kids never saw the color of their favorite team's uniforms until they got a baseball card or a Sports Illustrated magazine.  

The telecast like most everything else then was primitive.  But the pace of the game was much faster.  The pitchers threw a pitch, caught the ball from the catcher, and threw another pitch.  Rarely did they remove their cap, wipe their forehead, or walk around the mound for a while.

There is one other thing that was visible in that telecast that would probably be just as notable today.  The intensity with which Jackie Robinson played the game is very much on display.  He was a threat to steal on any base.  Any base...especially third base.

My Own Andy Griffith

 They moved into one of the best-known houses on the block.  The one with the strange, albeit homemade TV antenna on the roof.  That's because that was the house that had probably the first color TV in the San Fernando Valley.  Hell, probably the first one in Southern California.  Rupert Goodspeed, a TV engineer for CBS and family had moved on.  As the late 50s gave way to the 60s, a new family occupied the home directly opposite my family home.  

To say they were different folks would be an understatement.  Coming to the greater LA basin from Ripley, Tennessee was a culture shock at best, traumatizing at worse.  But they settled in, not exactly the stereotypical hillbillys, but not far off, either.  

Homer, Ruby, and their son Eddie soon adapted to the demands and lifestyle of Southern California.  Eddie "talked funny" to most of the neighborhood kids and didn't easily fall into street baseball games or the budding adolescent summer night hang-out culture now developing on Bonner Ave.  

Ruby was seen now and again running errands in the '56 Ford they owned.  She rarely talked to other neighborhood women and only appeared in the front yard with her prized Chihauwa, Twinkles.  Ruby's accent was best heard while she was calling Twinkles into the house.  Not exactly Dolly Parton, but nevertheless entertaining.  

It was Homer, the man of the house that held the most interest.  He resembled Andy Griffith, who at that time, was enjoying enormous popularity nationwide as the Sheriff of Maybury RFD.  Homer was kind, wise, and patient.  He liked all things outdoors, horses, fishing, and cars.  In no time he became a surrogate father figure to many of the kids on the block.  Homer would take up horseback riding, fishing, and on occasion, let us drive what he referred to as his "little 56" around the block.  He had his expressions too.  It was never San Francisco, but rather "San Franfrisco."  When his beloved Ford needed tires, he would say, "I got to throw some rubber on there."

One time I caught what to me was a huge bass at a local reservoir and took it over to Homer and Ruby.  They were overjoyed and before I could even ask my mom if I could have dinner with them, Homer had cleaned the fish and Ruby had breaded it in cornmeal and fried it up along with grits and okra and I sat at their table the proud provider.  That would have never happened in my home.  

After my folks died, I lost touch with Homer and Ruby, and Eddie.  I'm sure they are no longer on this earth, but Eddie might be around somewhere as he was a year or two younger than me.  My friendship with them wasn't all good memories as by the time the Civil Rights movement was in full swing followed by the Vietnam War, I'm sure our viewpoints differed.  Don't know if that would have mattered all that much, but I always wanted to tell Homer how much I appreciated all the opportunities he provided to the kid of New York migrants.

Getting Late

 "It's getting late, but it's not dark yet."

My heroes are aging.  Strike that, they are getting old.  Very old, very fast.  So it seems.  The baseball player in his 90s can only recollect.  The boxer can barely stand.  The writers are blind and the fisherman can no longer tie a knot.  

And then there is Dylan.  He announces a new tour.  It's what he does.  Still writes songs of substance and takes his show on the road.

For me, it was always about Dylan.  The force that hit home at the precise moment I needed.  He is a giant redwood with roots that go deep to Woody Guthrie and beyond to Baudelaire.  Thick, gnarly, massive roots that go to the magma.  He really does contain multitudes.

My intro was on Thursday nights.  At 6:55pm I would go to the backyard and ready the two trash barrels to be taken to the curb in front of our house.  I was set with earphones in place and my transistor radio in my pocket.  By 6:57, the first trash barrel was in place.  By 6:59 the second one was in place.  Turning to walk back up the driveway, I'd tune to KFWB because at precisely 7: o'clock they would play the number one song in England.  For weeks that song was "The Times are Changin.'  It would take another year before that album became available and I would sit on the top of the stack in my bedroom.  

In the following years, Dylan would invent and reinvent himself many times.  I cared little about his image.  Just keep those lyrics coming and that original harmonica style.  By the time "Like a Rolling Stone" etched its way into Rock and Roll legend, I had 3 Dylan albums.  

Shortly after I graduated high school I went to a party with many of my classmates.  This was different because some were in college and some went into the military.  Some got married and started families and some went into the workforce

My best friend and I unapologetically announced when someone played Dylan's hit record, (Like a Rolling Stone) that he was the greatest poet of the 20th century.  We had no way of knowing that, we just wanted to let our peers know that they needed to pay attention, listen to what he was saying and think about his messages.  We were arrogant and a little ignorant about great poetry but years later when Dylan won a Nobel Prize, I wore a satisfied smile.

For me, it was always about Dylan.

Check Your Compass

 Battle Lines are being drawn.  The Supreme Court's 5-4 majority is about to put an end to Roe v Wade.  Despite the fact that national polls show a majority of Americans are pro-choice, the stage is set.  Settled Law?  Not so, apparently.  

Already many women I know are gearing up for the fight they know is coming.  This is worst-case scenario stuff.  If anything could polarize this country more than it already is, it is the question of legal abortion.  

It is the slavery of our time.  The biggest moral question dividing the country...despite the polls.  For many, it appears as if our country is going backward.  So why now?  I can't help but think this move is related to other issues, most notably the agenda of what's left of the Republican party.  

This is the agenda of fear and the mixture of church and state.  The ironies abound.  Liberals say that the pro-life faction is only pro-life until a child is born.  After that child is born, they claim, that child is virtually abandoned when it comes to all the resources needed to sustain that life.  To really be pro-life means to create a society that supports the well-being of that child all through life.  

What will probably ensue if the Court follows through with ending Roe v Wade is that individual states will handle the question.  Already I've heard people say that they will open their homes to women who need this kind of health care.  

37 years ago, my father-in-law, Don Minkler became what he considered to be the face of reason by participating in a public service ad about the need for medically safe abortion.  The feature ran in Time magazine and the message is just as important today as it was then.  I share it here because the stakes are high and the people are angry.