Jew Eat Yet?

Thanksgiving 2008: Plus Ca Change…

We had a great Thanksgiving. I started the day watching the parade with Leah, something we do every year. I remember railing against the commercialism and inanity of last year’s Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade but watching it this year, I was somehow reassured. Things are so scary with the economy and the world right now that seeing traditions like the parade had a strangely comforting effect. The world as we know it still exists. Everything will be okay. I even cried twice during the parade. First, when James Taylor (now 60 and looking it, God love him) sang “America the Beautiful” to his seven-year-old twin boys (he also has two kids in their thirties from his marriage to Carly Simon), and second, when the Rockettes performed. Am I insane? Why on earth would that move me so? I guess there’s something about a group of people working together that closely that I find very poignant. Of course my budding diva daughter said she would never want to be a Rockette since it’s all about uniformity and sameness—no opportunity for any dazzling star turns.

As much as I enjoyed the parade, I was stunned at the paucity of big names and irritated at NBC's endless hawking of their own tired shows. And why do hosts Matt Lauer and Meredith Vieira have to be so tightly scripted? Their repartee sounded so false—aren’t they capable of having an actual conversation? I saw the YouTube clip from a few weeks ago when Vieira asked Lauer about his marriage during a segment on the “Today” show and then remembered on-camera that he was in the middle of a divorce. She burst awkwardly into hysterical laughter and then collapsed on the desk in embarrassment as Matt tried desperately to change the subject. Now that was real! The only authentic exchange during yesterday's parade occurred when a giant Keith Haring balloon narrowly missed hitting the NBC booth and decapitating the hosts.

We had 12 people over and I made a traditional meal mostly using recipes from the Tyler Florence Thanksgiving episode I saw on the Food Network: maple-glazed turkey with cornbread stuffing and gravy, green beans with mushrooms and pancetta, mashed potatoes, a yummy sweet potato casserole I lifted from my friend Emily’s blog, and Caesar salad. Three of our guests bought pies and Kendall made seven-layer squares, chocolate-studded Rice Krispies treats, and to-die-for lemon bars. Ah, America, land of plenty. Anyone for a High Colonic?

Despite the hubbub of the holiday and my unsuccessful attempts to make everything come out at the same time (my turkey was done two hours early but didn’t suffer too badly from resting before the onslaught), I continued my centennial review of life in 1908 Los Angeles. What shocked me the most was that much of what I discovered in the Thanksgiving 1908 edition of the Los Angeles Times could have been written this week. Of course there were some major differences. In 1908, many people in this town raised their own turkeys or went hunting for them (in southern California?). Even buying a turkey in a store was a different experience since the birds were frequently purchased alive and you had to kill them yourself or have someone do it for you. Gulp.

Like today, there were many deals involving turkeys designed to lure holiday shoppers:

“A turkey with every suit,” is offered at some clothing stores. There are combinations by which one may get a turkey free. “I think hat stores ought to offer turkeys,” declared a prominent club woman as she paid for her fowl. “My husband had to buy a new hat yesterday, and you know I think he should have got a dozen eggs with it at least.”

Reading articles about the preparations for the holiday in the city’s ethnic neighborhoods revealed some shocking jokes and illustrations:

A Chinaman bought seven turkeys at a market on First Street, near “Little Japan.” “Plesents for my flends,” he explained. “Do the Chinese observe Thanksgiving?” asked a bystander. “Sure,” he replied. “Always buy plesents for flends on Thanksgiving.”

Across the street is a kosher market, where queer Hebrew signs on the windows tell the tale. Within, the kosher man stays, ready to kill ducks, geese, turkeys, and chickens according to the ancient rites of his people. The Jewish population of the neighborhood, those who can afford turkey, buy at the poultry market and pay a little extra fee at the kosher shop across the way to have the fowls killed so that they will be considered clean. “You see, the kosher man kills the fowls with one keen stroke that severs the head and allows the blood to drain out,” explained the owner of the kosher shop. “There is no blood to gather and poison the meat. It is clean.”

Oy. But what surprised me the most about Thanksgiving 1908 was how the world was in such a similar state than it is today. In November 1908, the U.S. economy was in a nosedive, and people everywhere were suffering. One poor guy in downtown L.A. was panhandling on the holiday for a special purpose:

“Just give me 10 cents with which to buy poison to end my existence, and you will be doing a kind act on Thanksgiving Day,” pleaded Jesse Parsons, 48 years of age, as he approached two men at Second and Main streets yesterday morning. With a wife and two children dependent upon him and not a cent in the world with which to buy food, Parsons decided he would take his life. His family is destitute.

Luckily, Parsons didn’t get any money for his poison, and was instead thrown into the loony bin until his family could claim him.

Still, just like this year, the lousy financial news didn’t stop most people from enjoying the traditional Thanksgiving feast. I was surprised that this meal has changed so little during the past hundred years. In 1908, articles warned people against veering from American tradition.

The first thing to be said is that we should bear in mind that Thanksgiving is a thoroughly American festival. Christmas Day we share with all the world; Fourth of July is a generous scrimmage in more ways than one, but Thanksgiving is not only the day of the family, but of the American family. Therefore it behooves us to strike the national note and hold it. Not for us are the foreign kickshaws and French flummery! All these may come in at other times, and are very good in their place. But that is not here.

With the turkey should come cranberry sauce; none of the frilled-up jellies, either, but the good old sauce with the berries left in. Celery, of course, and American vegetables—sweet potatoes, green corn, pudding, baked tomatoes, eggplant, baked squash, or anything else that comes to hand. Gravy in abundance—as much as can be eaten, if that be possible. Then, the pumpkin pie. Who would interpose the jarring note of a salad? Did the Pilgrim Fathers have salads at their Thanksgiving feasts? Nay, verily! Perish the thought! What was too good for them is not good enough for us on this day.

The one foreign touch which may be permitted to the meal is a small cup of back coffee, which closes it. Patriotism is all very well, but, after all, self-preservation is the first law of nature, and when tribute has been paid to national enthusiasm one should surely be allowed to reach out for a life-saving buoy in the shape of the post-dinner coffee.

Coffee as a foreign touch? Like today, people were encouraged to over-indulge:

There ought to be one occasion in the year when the unregenerate man is freed from the dietary restraints laid upon him by a hygienic helpmate, and may eat all the kinds of pie and as much of each kind as he chooses. And what better time for a display of American independence in American tastes than on the first of American holidays?

Don’t you just love that writing? Editorials in the paper tried to put Thanksgiving 1908 in proper perspective.

The Pilgrims looked down the ages and dimly saw something of what the years would bring to their heirs and successors. But they never saw in imagination a thousandth part of what is now fact to us. Could they have dreamed of a real republic of 90,000,000 people, spreading from the known Atlantic to the unknown Pacific of their days, composed of 46 sovereign states, all teeming with wealth? How thankful they would have been for the privilege of laying the first foundations stones of such an empire!

During all the past thirty years since our country fully recovered from the ravages of the Civil War, we have gone forward at a pace never known before our day. Since the new century dawned on the land the progress has been sensational. It would seem as if the blessings of heaven have been poured out upon us for the humanitarian spirit we had shown in setting the people of Cuba safely on the road toward self-government, for our good work in China, for the part we took in bringing about peace between Russia and Japan, and for our continued efforts towards ensuring peace among all the nations of the earth.

But the editorial writers also sounded notes of caution eerily similar to those we hear today (except for the political parties that were being ushered into power):

During the year we now review there came to us a salutary check. We were rushing ahead too fast for safety. As a result, business opened the safety valve and let off the excess steam. But the other day we passed through the ordeal of a national election in a way so orderly, so amicable, that it surpassed all ever known in popular government. The choice of the people has settled upon the best-equipped man for the office among the millions of American citizens. A Congress is chosen which will protect the country from all radical experimentation in the making of new laws. Conservatism will mark the course of Congress, and the new President will exercise his functions with so much care and wisdom that while the laws will be well enforced, honest business will be not merely protected but greatly encouraged.

And what of the new President-elect who was seen as the savior for the hard economic times that had befallen the country? William Howard Taft, working with his transition team and slowly settling upon his new Cabinet, issued the following statement on Thanksgiving 1908 that could have been written by Barack Obama yesterday:

“I think we are emerging from a period of business depression and struggling on to more prosperous times. I think that we, the people of the United States, have this to be thankful for. I hope that we shall not rush upon this prosperity as such expectations may result in disappointment if it calls for immediate and full satisfaction. I believe that there will be a gradual and steadfast improvement in business conditions throughout the country.”

Or, as Obama said last week, “Help is on the way!”

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

 

Our House Comes Out of the Closet

I’m on my way to my third grocery shlep of the day in my Thanksgiving preparations but I’m pausing at the Larchmont Starbucks to share with you our house’s lesbian video debut. Our brilliant friends Amy Turner and Kathryn Lounsbery have been performing their original show, “That’s What She Said,” for the past year in Los Angeles and San Francisco. (They’ll soon be doing it in Chicago and other cities.) I won’t even try to convey how funny this show is but trust me…you should run to see this if you get the chance. Here’s a recent review from the San Francisco Chronicle.

Amy and Kathryn, with the help of their director Bob Koherr, just finished a music video of one of the songs from the show. It’s called “U-Haul” (as in, “What does a lesbian bring on a second date?”) and it was partly shot on our front porch. Take a look at what went on in our neighborhood, complete with U-Haul truck parked on our lawn and sexy “Fly Girls” gyrating on our front steps. Let’s just say we attracted quite a crowd that day, from mouth-agape passersby to about a dozen Latina middle schoolers from the apartment building across the street who were aping every dance move off camera.

I just blasted the video in the Starbucks and had a crowd of harried last-minute Thanksgiving shoppers riveted to every frame on my computer! Have a look. (Warning: A few scenes are somewhat R-rated!)

Take that, you “Yes on 8” homophobes!

45 Years Later…

Today is the 45th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. As I’ve mentioned before, if that event wasn’t my actual first memory, it was certainly the first memory that I can put a date to. I was four years old and not yet in school. At that age, I obviously didn’t understand the full ramifications of what was happening, I just knew it was something huge. And very sad. I was watching the end of Bozo’s Circus on Channel 9, something I did every day during lunch. I was eating a fluffernutter sandwich, one of my favorites: two pieces of soft white Wonder bread, one side covered with Skippy peanut butter and the other with Marshmallow Fluff. I remember being irritated when my show was interrupted in the middle of the Grand Prize Game by a somber-sounding “Special Report.” I have an image in my head of my mother standing behind an ironing board laden with piles of clothes. She was staring blank-faced at the TV set, the iron in her left hand frozen in mid-air. All of a sudden she burst into awful, painful, wracking sobs. That was something I never saw before or after that day. I was terrified.

A few minutes later, my father called. My mother could barely get any words out. He was at the department store he managed at the time, Bissett’s, in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood, and he told her that when the news of the assassination came on the radio, people started screaming and running out onto the street. Now no one was in the store and he was going to close early and come home. My brother and sister soon appeared, much earlier than they normally did, their elementary school had sent all the kids home early. I remember watching the funeral on TV three days later with my mother and seeing little John-John (one year younger than me) salute as his dad's casket went by. It was John-John's third birthday. And I remember seeing Jack Ruby kill Lee Harvey, surely the first murder broadcast on live TV. Should I be concerned that all of my earliest memories are of trauma, confusion, violence, and sadness?

I later became a bit obsessed with both the assassination and the Kennedy family. I never paid too much attention to the wild conspiracy theories, but I still found it difficult to believe that this act sprung solely from the demented mind of Lee Harvey Oswald. I do believe others were involved in some way. Maybe we’ll never know the truth, or maybe facts that would shock the world are already known but being kept under wraps. One of my very first thoughts when I heard President-elect Obama was starting his White House briefings was, “I wonder if they’re going to tell him who really killed JFK.”

When I was growing up, it wasn't as easy to review footage from that day, which only added to the conspiracists' belief that we weren't being told the whole story. We knew about the Zapruder film and saw color stills from it but it was not something that was readily accessible as it is today. Now you can find thousands of images, videos, and documents from that time with the click of a button. Below is a discovery I just made that I'm surprised I didn't know about.

 

On June 5, 1964, at 4:20 pm, Jacqueline Kennedy appeared before the Warren Commission, the government-appointed group that was investigating the assassination. Mrs. Kennedy arrived at the hearing with her brother-in-law Robert F. Kennedy. General Counsel, J. Lee Rankin, and Chief Justice Earl Warren were also there. It is chilling to hear Jackie Kennedy talk about that day in her own words—she certainly never gave interviews on the subject. It's also interesting to note that even though it was less than seven months since the assassination, there were a few times when she couldn't remember if something came from her own memory or if it was something she saw or read about that day. Isn't that how all of our memories work? Here are excerpts from what must have been an agonizing interrogation.

The Chairman.

The Commission will be in order. Mrs. Kennedy, the Commission would just like to have you say in your own words, in your own way, what happened at the time of the assassination of the President. Mr. Rankin will ask you a few questions, just from the time you left the airport until the time you started for the hospital. And we want it to be brief. We want it to be in your own words and want you to say anything that you feel is appropriate to that occasion. Would you be sworn, please, Mrs. Kennedy? Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you give before the Commission will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

Mrs. Kennedy.

I do.

The Chairman.

Would you be seated.

Mr. Rankin.

State your name for the record.

Mrs. Kennedy.

Jacqueline Kennedy.

Mr. Rankin.

And you are the widow of the former President Kennedy?

Mrs. Kennedy.

That is right.

Mr. Rankin.

You live here in Washington?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

Can you go back to the time that you came to Love Field on November 22 and describe what happened there after you landed in the plane?

Mrs. Kennedy.

We got off the plane. The then Vice President and Mrs. Johnson were there. They gave us flowers. And then the car was waiting, but there was a big crowd there, all yelling, with banners and everything. And we went to shake hands with them. It was a very hot day. And you went all along a long line. I tried to stay close to my husband and lots of times you get pushed away, you know, people leaning over and pulling your hand. They were very friendly. And, finally, I don't know how we got back to the car. I think Congressman Thomas somehow was helping me. There was lots of confusion.

Mr. Rankin.

Then you did get into the car. And you sat on the left side of the car, did you, and your husband on your right?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

And was Mrs. Connally----

Mrs. Kennedy.

In front of me.

Mr. Rankin.

And Governor Connally to your right in the jump seat?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

And then did you start off on the parade route?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

And were there many people along the route that you waved to?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes. It was rather scattered going in. Once there was a crowd of people with a sign saying something like "President Kennedy, please get out and shake our hands, our neighbors said you wouldn't."

Mr. Rankin.

Did you?

Mrs. Kennedy.

And he stopped and got out. That was, you know, like a little suburb and there were not many crowds. But then the crowds got bigger as you went in.

Mr. Rankin.

As you got into the main street of Dallas were there very large crowds on all the streets?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

And you waved to them and proceeded down the street with the motorcade?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes. And in the motorcade, you know, I usually would be waving mostly to the left side and he was waving mostly to the right, which is one reason you are not looking at each other very much. And it was terribly hot. Just blinding all of us.

Mr. Rankin.

Now, do you remember as you turned off of the main street onto Houston Street?

Mrs. Kennedy.

I don't know the name of the street.

Mr. Rankin.

That is that one block before you get to the Depository Building.

Mrs. Kennedy.

Well, I remember whenever it was, Mrs. Connally said, "We will soon be there." We could see a tunnel in front of us. Everything was really slow then. And I remember thinking it would be so cool under that tunnel.

Mr. Rankin.

And then do you remember as you turned off of Houston onto Elm right by the Depository Building?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Well, I don't know the names of the streets, but I suppose right by the Depository is what you are talking about?

Mr. Rankin.

Yes; that is the street that sort of curves as you go down under the underpass.

Mr. Kennedy.

Yes; well, that is when she said to President Kennedy, “You certainly can't say that the people of Dallas haven't given you a nice welcome.”

Mr. Rankin.

What did he say?

Mrs. Kennedy.

I think he said--I don't know if I remember it or I have read it, "No, you certainly can't," or something. And you know then the car was very slow and there weren't very many people around. And then--do you want me to tell you what happened?

Mr. Rankin.

Yes; if you would, please.

Mrs. Kennedy.

You know, there is always noise in a motorcade and there are always motorcycles, besides us, a lot of them backfiring. So I was looking to the left. I guess there was a noise, but it didn't seem like any different noise really because there is so much noise, motorcycles and things. But then suddenly Governor Connally was yelling, "Oh, no, no, no."

Mr. Rankin.

Did he turn toward you?

Mrs. Kennedy.

No; I was looking this way, to the left, and I heard these terrible noises. You know. And my husband never made any sound. So I turned to the right. And all I remember is seeing my husband, he had this sort of quizzical look on his face, and his hand was up, it must have been his left hand. And just as I turned and looked at him, I could see a piece of his skull and I remember it was flesh colored. I remember thinking he just looked as if he had a slight headache. And I just remember seeing that. No blood or anything. And then he sort of did this [indicating], put his hand to his forehead and fell in my lap. And then I just remember falling on him and saying, "Oh, no, no, no," I mean, "Oh, my God, they have shot my husband." And "I love you, Jack," I remember I was shouting. And just being down in the car with his head in my lap. And it just seemed an eternity. You know, then, there were pictures later on of me climbing out the back. But I don't remember that at all.

Mr. Rankin.

Do you remember Mr. Hill coming to try to help on the car?

Mrs. Kennedy.

I don't remember anything. I was just down like that. And finally I remember a voice behind me, or something, and then I remember the people in the front seat, or somebody, finally knew something was wrong, and a voice yelling, which must have been Mr. Hill, "Get to the hospital,"or maybe it was Mr. Kellerman, in the front seat. But someone yelling. I was just down and holding him. [Reference to wounds deleted.]

Mr. Rankin.

Do you have any recollection of whether there were one or more shots?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Well, there must have been two because the one that made me turn around was Governor Connally yelling. And it used to confuse me because first I remembered there were three and I used to think my husband didn't make any sound when he was shot. And Governor Connally screamed. And then I read the other day that it was the same shot that hit them both. But I used to think if I only had been looking to the right I would have seen the first shot hit him, then I could have pulled him down, and then the second shot would not have hit him. But I heard Governor Connally yelling and that made me turn around, and as I turned to the right my husband was doing this [indicating with hand at neck]. He was receiving a bullet. And those are the only two I remember. And I read there was a third shot. But I don't know. Just those two.

Mr. Rankin.

And then from there you proceeded as rapidly as possible to the hospital, is that right?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

Mr. Rankin.

Do you recall anyone saying anything else during the time of the shooting?

Mrs. Kennedy.

No; there weren't any words. There was just Governor Connally's. And then I suppose Mrs. Connally was sort of crying and covering her husband. But I don't remember any words.

Mr. Rankin.

Can you think of anything more?

The Chairman.

No; I think not. I think that is the story and that is what we came for.

Mr. Rankin.

You have told us what you remember about the entire period as far as you can recall, have you?

Mrs. Kennedy.

Yes.

The Chairman.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Kennedy.

Second City?

My brother-in-law is quoted in today’s New York Times. In an article called        “A New Wind Is Blowing in Chicago,” reporter Jeff Zeleny writes about how Chicago is basking in the glory of increased attention and prestige as it prepares to become the site of the Western White House. (No doubt the reporters who follow the President are basking in the glory of never having to set foot in Crawford, Texas, again.) “It seems like there are eight million people walking around here congratulating each other,” said Scott Turow, the best-selling novelist who was born in the city. “Chicagoans are unbelievably proud of Barack and feel of course that he’s ours, because he is.”

Obama will be the first U.S. President ever to call Chicago home. Hillary Clinton was born at Edgewater Hospital in Chicago and Nancy Reagan moved there when she was eight and attended the Latin School, but Obama is the first President who will be making the frequent trips to the Windy City during his time away from the White House. The Chicago tourism industry is already capitalizing on the Obama frenzy with an ad campaign that invites visitors to come and “experience the city the Obamas enjoy.” Oy.

After a 1952 New Yorker article snidely used the term “Second City” to refer to Chicago, some smart ad executives decided to seize upon the slogan rather than be offended by it. Still, I’ve talked to New Yorkers who believe the hype and assume that Chicagoans feel somehow less than because of this B-list status. In my opinion, this concept has always been pure myth. I was happy to see my brother-in-law echoing those thoughts in the New York Times article:

Jeff Tweedy, the leader of the band Wilco who grew up in downstate Illinois and lives in Chicago, said the city never felt the inferiority complex that outsiders spend so much time musing about. Still, he said, the election of Mr. Obama, a friend for years, has given an unusual boost of confidence in a city that is usually nonplussed.

“I think people really do enjoy the idea that we’re living in the center of the world all of a sudden,” Mr. Tweedy said. “There have been all these prevailing stereotypes, and people don’t know how big and urban Chicago actually is. People think of it as being in a cornfield.”

I'm not sure about the cornfield, but when I went to school in France in the late 70s and mentioned I was from Chicago, people would always aim their fingers at me and make the sound of machine gun fire. Good lord, are there still people who equate the city with gangsters and the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre? 

As for the inferiority complex, what is there to feel inferior to? Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE New York and think it is one of the most exciting cities on the planet—the last thing I want to do is get into some kind of pissing contest with that town. But as I wrote last August when I was visiting my family, “Chicago rules in terms of architecture, food, theatre, public parks, museums, and general cohesiveness and brand loyalty.” Not that it makes much sense to compare any two cities with each other (as I kept doing with Los Angeles, much to the irritation of my L.A.-born wife). But suffice it to say that as much as the city is thrilled to claim him, Chicago didn’t need Barack Obama to put it in on the map.

Hmm, is this going to be one of the fallouts of the 2008 election? Now that the Obama victory has made some Democrats too smug for comfort, will Chicagoans become so obnoxiously proud of their city that they make New Yorkers seem humble by comparison? Is that why the Cubs couldn’t catch a break this year? Was it God’s way of making sure Chicagoans don’t get too full of themselves?

I’m looking forward to all the newfound interest in my beloved home town. Even though I’ve lived in Los Angeles for 22 years, I have always been and always will be a Chicagoan.

“There is a really strong sense of self in Chicago: People aren’t defined by wealth or by work or accomplishments, but rather who they are,” said Alex Kotlowitz, an author who makes his home in Chicago because he believes it is a place to peer into America’s heart. “Obama seems so comfortable in his skin and with who he is. That’s so Chicago.”

Fall Movie Round-Up

The election is over, thank God. The economy is still tanking, I’m still getting into hot-headed debates with conservatives on other blogs, and there are still endless problems plaguing our world. But with change finally on the horizon, I’m ready to go back to one of my favorite pursuits during tough times: escaping into the movies. I’ve seen a slew of great movies since Election Day and I thought I’d briefly “review” them here. It’s an eclectic group, to be sure, and not one that would typically be labeled as escapist fare. Let’s see…out of the ten films, all involve some kind of family dysfunction, nine include scenes of intense violence, seven involve various forms of mental illness, and five feature the death of a young child. Fun times at the movies! I’ll list them in alphabetical order since I’d rather not rank them:

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. At the beginning of this film, we meet a boy and his picture perfect family—his beautiful, loving mother, his sweet older sister, and his caring, attentive father. They live in a spectacular mansion and are giving a glittering party full of beautifully dressed guests to celebrate the father’s recent promotion. Everything about the boy’s life seems charmed—like something out of a fantasy. Oh…did I mention that they were Nazis? Not only Nazis, but the father’s promotion involves leaving Berlin and dragging his family to Poland to assume his new post as commandant at Auschwitz. Oy. Bruno hates moving to the countryside, but he’s curious about the farm that he can see from his upstairs window. But why are all the farmers wearing blue-striped pajamas? One day, while secretly exploring the area around the “farm,” he comes across a boy his age wearing the pajamas and strikes up a friendship with him through the electrified barbed-wire fence. This captivating film is told entirely through Bruno’s perspective. We see the mother’s gradual disillusionment and horror with her husband’s work, the sister’s infatuation with an SS guard and her transformation into a rabid Hitler Youth, and Bruno’s own struggles as he comes to terms with his beloved father’s true ideology. There are some plot points in this film that defy historical credulity, but the ending is so chilling that it stays with you long after leaving the theatre. Special kudos to Vera Farmiga as the perfect Nazi wife and Asa Butterfield as the innocent boy who just wants to help his pajama-clad best friend.

The Changeling. This Clint Eastwood film has been getting mixed reviews but we loved it. Any film that recreates Los Angeles in the 1920s is going to get me going and the depiction of this true story had me riveted throughout. Angelina Jolie is sure to get an Oscar nomination for her fierce portrayal of Christine Collins, whose nine-year-old son goes missing one day in 1928. Months later, to her utter joy, the boy is found across the country, a victim of kidnapping. The LAPD, needing a PR boost, make a big deal out of the successful end to this case, but when they reunite mother and son, Christine is stunned. “That is not my son,” she tells the officials at the LAPD-organized photo op. But the police department insists she is confused and send her home with the boy. The department is so eager to avoid embarrassment that when Christine continues to maintain that the boy is not her son, they have her locked up in an insane asylum, something that was shockingly easy for the police to do in the 1920s. Meanwhile, a gruesome serial murder case comes to light near Riverside. I’ll leave it at that, and agree with the critics who said that the film lacked a certain nuance (characters tend to be all-good or all-bad). Still, I found this film to be gripping, including its depiction of how independent women were treated in back in the day and how easy it was for them to be abused by male authority figures. The minute I got home I spent hours researching the real story and was surprised by how close Eastwood came to the physical appearance of these characters. Christine’s lawsuits against the LAPD brought some much-needed changes to that institution.

A Christmas Tale (Un Conte de Noel). If this were an American film, the dysfunction shown by this family gathered together for the holidays would be amusing, over-the-top, and bookended with poignant scenes showing the love that was underneath the family drama. Not so in this story by French director Arnaud Desplechin. In this film, the multi-layered dysfunction leaves every family relationship in ruins, except the one between the heads of the family, Abel and Junon. Years earlier, when their son Joseph was a child, he developed a rare blood disease. A bone marrow transplant was needed to save the boy’s life but no one in the family, including the couple’s young daughter, was a match. Abel and Junon conceived a third child in an attempt to find a donor, but alas, young Henri was not a match either. Sadly, Joseph died at seven. Years later, Junon develops the same disease and needs a marrow transplant. This time one of her children is a match. But...it gets complicated. As Junon, 65-year-old Catherine Deneuve is a revelation. While her ageless beauty is referred to in the script (“Grandpa, how come you’re old and Grandma isn’t?”), Deneuve plays against type in a courageous and exquisite performance. Although she loves her husband, she could take or leave her kids, especially Henri. My favorite exchange in the film breaks a taboo about cinematic mothers—Junon: You still don’t love me, do you? Henri: No, maman, I never did. Junon: Me neither. This film is disturbing, funny, and maddening, and like many French films, it ends without much resolution. I loved it.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to His Son About His Father. This heartbreaking documentary by Kurt Kuenne tells of the brutal murder of his friend, Dr. Andrew Bagby, by his estranged and mentally unhinged girlfriend, Dr. Shirley Turner. Following the murder, Turner escapes to Canada. Bagby’s parents go to Canada and work to get Turner extradited back to the U.S. but the mourning couple faces many hurdles in the Canadian justice system. Then, a bombshell: Turner is pregnant with Bagby’s child. The film follows the crazy case against Shirley Turner, paints a wonderful portrait of Andrew Bagby, and shows the Herculean strength of his parents who form a relationship with their son’s murderer just so they can have access to their grandson. This is a devastating and cautionary tale about mental illness and the legal system. Several tragedies depicted in the film (including a whopper I’m not telling you) could have been avoided were it not for the ineffective bureaucracies that victimized the Bagbys.

Happy-Go-Lucky. I am a huge Mike Leigh fan and also an admirer of actress Sally Hawkins who stars in this film. Dawson plays Poppy Cross, a cheerful London schoolteacher whose relentless optimism drives everyone around her a little nuts. I so wanted to love this film but I found a lot of it difficult to sit through. Why? Because Poppy’s relentless optimism drove ME nuts! I wanted to be inspired and moved by Poppy’s positive attitude to life’s challenges but instead I just wanted to slap her. Does that say more about me or the film? Nevertheless, it is chock full of excellent performances and I give Hawkins a lot of credit for making this irrepressibly happy character seem believable by the end of the story. As in many Mike Leigh films, the smaller parts are so well written and conceived that they shine as brightly as the leads. I loved Alexis Zegerman as Poppy’s refreshingly cynical flatmate Zoe, Karina Fernandez as a hot-blooded Flamenco teacher hiding her pain, and Eddie Marsan as a driving instructor with serious anger management issues. 

Prodigal Sons. If you’re going to see only one documentary this year, do your best to find a screening of Kimberly Reed’s moving family memoir called “Prodigal Sons.” What starts as the filmmaker’s journey home to a small town in Montana to attend her high school reunion turns into a fascinating exploration of gender and identity with more plot twists than you can keep track of. It all comes together beautifully, painting a portrait of this amazing family that defies all stereotypes. I’ll keep some of the film’s stunning revelations to myself in case you go see it, but I’ll reveal a jaw-dropping one that occurs more than midway through the film. One of Kim’s reasons for returning to Montana was to reconnect with her adopted brother who’d been having a lot of challenges in his life. The brother had been trying to locate his birth mother with no success but during the filming he finally finds her. They connect but she dies just before they are scheduled to meet. And then the shocker. The birth mother turns out to be Rebecca Welles, the daughter of screen goddess Rita Hayworth and director Orson Welles. This sends the film into a bizarre side trip to Serbia to meet up with Welles’ companion during his later years. It’s fascinating stuff, but just to show how compelling this family’s story is, the surprise Welles/Hayworth connection never becomes the focal point of the film. Go see this, you won’t be disappointed.

Rached Getting Married. I enjoyed this Jonathan Demme film very much. Anne Hathaway gives her best performance to date, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she scores an Oscar nomination. Note to young actresses, particularly those who got their start in Disney movies: find a script in which you can play a tormented drug addicted ex-model who is just coming out of 10 years of rehab and you will be surrounded by Oscar buzz. The Rachel in the title is Hathaway’s sister who is getting married and is highly resentful of her sister’s squeaky wheel always getting the grease, even on her special day. Bill Irwin is particularly good as the girls’ emotional father and it was a treat to see Debra Winger back on the screen as their distant, emotionally complex mother. What a great actress she is in her brief scenes. The film was written by Jenny Lumet, the daughter of director Sidney Lumet and the granddaughter of Lena Horne. Her biracial background is present in this film but not an important plot point. By the end of the film we feel like we were guests at this weekend-long wedding and that’s my only complaint—there are far too many scenes showcasing the family’s talented musician friends playing all sorts of instruments. At one point, stepmother Anna Deveare Smith is trying to deal with the friction between Anne Hathaway and her sister but she can barely hear herself think because of her musical houseguests. Smith steps out onto the porch and says, “Could you guys please SHUT UP for a while?” Exactly.

The Secret Life of Bees. I just took Leah to see this chick flick based on Sue Monk Kidd’s bestselling novel. We loved it. Sure, some elements of the plot were a little hard to believe, but despite the fantasy elements, the realities of life for African-Americans in the South in 1964 are movingly depicted. A teenaged Dakota Fanning does a good job as Lily Owens. Lily escapes her abusive father and rescues housekeeper Rosaleen (played by Jennifer Hudson in a much better follow-up to her Oscar-winning turn in “Dreamgirls” than her appearance in the “Sex and the City” film) from the town’s white racist thugs. They find shelter in the magical home of the Boatwright sisters, August, May, and June, played by Queen Latifah, Sophie Okonedo, and Alicia Keys. Is there any way I could get Queen Latifah to adopt me? Does it matter that I’m 10 years older than she is? I find her one of the most appealing actresses in films today and she evokes a kind of mother love that seems all-powerful.

Synecdoche, New York. Damn it, I wanted to love this film. I like writer/director Charlie Kaufman’s work and I am crazy about every member of this talented cast: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton, Hope Davis, Emily Watson, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Dianne Wiest, Michelle Williams—you can’t find better people than that. And I so admire filmmakers who veer from conventional linear storytelling, playing with time and space and reality in general. But…oh, I just couldn’t handle the driving existential angst and surreal approach to the main character’s crumbling life. I know people who think this film is a brilliant masterpiece and I feel terribly unhip criticizing it in any way but all I know is I needed to down half a bottle of Advil when it was over. Maybe it was the mood I was in. I should really see it again, there’s so much to take in here, but I…just…don’t…want…to. And forgive me, smart people who made this film, but was it really necessary to give it a title that is literally impossible to pronounce? You should have heard the line of people at the box office. Final note to Catherine Keener: I love your work—you play those unsympathetic self-absorbed bitchy women so well, but boy, I’d love to see you in a different kind of role for a change. Maybe in your upcoming live action/ animation film of  Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are?” Can’t wait for that although last I heard the studio was delaying it because they weren’t happy with the tone of the Spike Jonze/Dave Eggers script or the little boy who plays Max. Serves them right for not hiring my nephew Sam who actually auditioned for the part (along with a million other boys). Okay, he’s not an actor but I think he would have been perfect for that role!

Witch Hunt. In this documentary by Dana Nachman and Don Hardy (with narration by Sean Penn), we learn about the rash of wild child sexual abuse accusations that were levied against a host of innocent people in Bakersfield in the early 1980s. Thanks to the opportunistic Kern County District Attorney and his crew of untrained, abusive investigators who forcibly coerced young children into telling them whatever they wanted to hear, many families were destroyed in the process. The film focuses on nine innocent victims of this period who served prison time (between six and 20 years) in California’s roughest prisons. All were eventually exonerated but, shockingly, the power-crazy District Attorney is still in office despite the civil suits that he currently faces. In the end, this is a horrifying but inspiring story. I saw it at the AFI Festival and got to meet the subjects of the film who miraculously survived years of injustice with positive attitudes.

Hey, I told you the list of films was intense. To close, here’s a brief list of upcoming films that make me want to camp out at the theatres where they’re opening:

Australia. This World War II era film looks right up my alley. I was glad for Nicole Kidman that she could finally use her real accent until I realized she was playing an English aristocrat. I like Hugh Jackman but I hope his part doesn’t revolve around his hunky torso as it seems to in the trailers. (November 26)

The Reader. Loved the book by Bernhard Schlink and again, the World War II plot has my name all over it. The thought of Kate Winslet as a former SS guard at Auschwitz who defends herself in a war crimes trial makes me giddy with anticipation. (December 10)

Doubt. Kendall and I both think Meryl Streep deserves an Oscar nomination just for her performance in the trailer. This film version of John Patrick Stanley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play looks fantastic, I can’t wait. (December 12)

Revolutionary Road. I didn’t care for “Titanic” but I’m thrilled that Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio have reunited for this saga about a troubled couple in the repressed 1950s. Both of these fine actors are only getting better with age and the preview looks so damn good it makes me want to get in line six weeks in advance. (December 26)

Kristallnacht: 70 Years Later

Seventy years ago tonight, hundreds of groups of marauding Germans were tearing through Berlin and other cities in Germany vandalizing, looting, and in many cases burning to the ground Jewish synagogues, businesses, and private homes. Later, this horrible night of terror would be called Kristallnacht, or the “Night of Broken Glass” because of the constant sound of the shattered storefront windows of the Jewish-owned businesses. German Jews had been suffering one indignity after another since the Nazis took power five years earlier, but Kristallnacht was a major turning point in what would soon lead to the expulsion and murder of millions of European Jews. During this well planned event, 30,000 Jews were arrested and sent to concentration camps, hundreds of ancient synagogues were destroyed and burned down, and thousands of Jewish businesses and homes were attacked.

It boggles my mind whenever I hear people say that German citizens and the rest of the world didn’t know what was happening to the Jews until after the war. The events of November 9, 1938, were fully reported in every newspaper on the planet and the Nazi officials in 1938, well before the start of World War II, made no bones about their plans to get rid of the Jews.

Following increased restrictions placed on Jews, the Nazis had been looking for an excuse to ramp up their persecution in a more organized and violent way. On November 7, 1938, a 17-year-old German-Jewish kid named Herschel Grynszpan, distraught over his family’s expulsion from Germany, walked into the German Embassy in Paris, pulled out a gun, and fired at a junior diplomat, Ernst vom Rath. The diplomat died of his wounds two days later which gave Joseph Goebbels just the opportunity he was looking for to set into motion a country-wide attack on Germany’s Jews and their property, all under the pretense of making the Jews pay for vom Rath’s death.

I just spent several hours pouring through the American newspaper accounts of this ugly night. (Hey, it's a beautiful day in Los Angeles, what else should I be doing?) Here are a few observations that came to mind as I read the articles.

Many people spoke up, others were shockingly silent. Goebbels, the Minister of Propaganda, initially got credit in the American press for stopping the mayhem and sending in the police to protect the Jews even while he defended the brutal attacks. “The justified and understandable anger of the German people over the cowardly Jewish murder of a German diplomat in Paris found extensive expression last night,” Goebbels said. “A final answer to the Jewish assassination will be given to Jewry by way of legislation and ordinance.” Reports of the crowds of onlookers included many people laughing and applauding, some seeming quite upset about what was happening and trying to help the Jewish business owners, and others shouting “Kill the Jews! Why not hang the owner of the store in the window!” A young American woman on the streets of Berlin that night said she saw one Jewish man dragged from his shop, chased by a crowd of German boys, and viciously beaten to death. She then saw a second Jew beaten by a single man as the crowd looked on and did nothing. Looting soon began everywhere. In some cases, Nazis gathered up items from the smashed store windows and threw them into the crowd, shouting “Here are some cheap Christmas presents.”

The first notes of protest were sounded by the executive committee of the World Jewish Congress in Geneva, who described the assassination of the German diplomat in Paris as a poor excuse for the Nazi campaign. In the U.S., there was no immediate comment on the incident from President Roosevelt. The first American officials to decry what happened were New York District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey and former Governor Alfred Smith who attacked Germany in a radio broadcast sponsored by the Anti-Nazi League to Champion Human Rights. Dewey said he wished to appeal to world opinion to rebuke a “dictatorship gone mad.”

“We stand appalled,” he said, “by the sight of what has happened in Nazi Germany. If you saw a gang of cowardly ruffians set upon a helpless man in the streets, and proceed to beat him, you would not long remain silent. If you saw a fanatical mob pillage and burn a church or synagogue, you would not long remain silent. If you saw a brutal band drive helpless families from their homes, you would speak out promptly. Multiply these incidents by thousands and you have the sickening spectable of Nazi Germany. No amount of lame explanation by the German Minister of Propaganda can make the picture any different.”

Other people who immediately spoke out included famous feminist Carrie Chapman Catt who sent telegrams to the State Department asking the government to protest the action. Pulitzer Prize-winning author Louis Bromfield wanted to help the fleeing Jews. He suggested that the Mexican peninsula of Baja California could be used as a haven for the persecuted people. Others proposed that up to a million Jews might seek refuge in Northern Rhodesia. The National Negro Congress asked President Roosevelt "to provide in America a free haven for the oppressed Jewish people." John P. Davis, national secretary of the congress, wired Mr. Roosevelt that "Negro people in America, representing a minority in our democracy, are deeply concerned over the inhuman barbarism being practiced on the Jewish minority in Nazi Germany."

Another public figure who spoke out about the events that November was former President Herbert Hoover. After expressing his outrage at the German government and reminding them how he worked so hard to save the German people from famine when he was President, Hoover said the current attacks endanger the whole world.

“It is still my belief,” he added, “that the German people if they could express themselves would not approve these acts against the Jews. But as they cannot so express themselves it is the duty of men everywhere to express our indignation not alone at the suffering these men are imposing on an innocent people but at the blow they are striking at civilization itself.”

President Roosevelt finally weighed in on November 16th with a slightly guarded statement:

“The news of the past few days from Germany has deeply shocked public opinion in the United States. Such news from any part of the world would inevitably produce a similar profound reaction among American people in every part of the nation. I myself could scarcely believe that such things could occur in a 20th century civilization.”

And yet diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Germany were not severed. People like Dewey and Hoover (both Republicans, by the way) continued to speak out much more forcefully than Roosevelt or anyone in his administration.

 

World governments played right into Hitler’s hands, just as he predicted. In retrospect, Hitler and the Nazis seemed to be testing the waters in November 1938, and as they got away with one atrocity after another, their attacks on the Jewish population increased exponentially. In 1938, Hitler still claimed all of the Jews were free to leave and he encouraged the nations of the world to take them in if they cared about them so much. In the days following Kristallnacht, the Nazis continued to heap miseries on the remaining Jews of Germany. In addition to a boatload of new restrictions that affected all aspects of their lives, they fined them $400,000,000 for the vom Rath assassination and said the Jews had to pay for the repair all of their businesses and homes but that they were no longer allowed to own them. Oh, and any insurance settlements that were received as a result of the damages would go straight into Nazi coffers. Every day the Nazi government got bolder in stating exactly what they would do to the remaining Jews in Germany and German-controlled Austria. Jews across the country were desperate to get out, including the thousands of families whose homes were destroyed on November 9th and whose husbands and fathers were arrested. Daily, the refugees reached the borders of Germany and were systematically turned away by French, Belgian, Dutch, and Czech officials. American Jewish groups begged the U.S. government to let the Jews come to this country but American officials said that under no circumstances could they go beyond the current quota for German immigrants to this country. That quota was 30,000 people a year and by November 1938 it had already been reached.

Many people worked desperately to find a solution. In addition to negotiations to buy Baja California from Mexico for $10 million as a haven for the Jews, plans were drawn up for saving the imperiled people by shipping them to Alaska, Madagascar, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, Australia, and several different countries in Africa. A wealthy woman in San Francisco actually offered 1500 acres of land she owned in Oregon for the refugees. Of course, none of these rescue plans ever got off the ground and despite some well-known exceptions here and there, the world basically turned its back on the Jews of Europe. Hitler rightfully blasted the United States and the other world powers for their hypocrisy.

Even Joseph P. Kennedy, the future President's father who was then the U.S. Ambassador to Britain and was not known for his love of Jewish people, tried to get the British government to help the Jews in the days following Kristallnacht. His pleas fell on deaf ears. The most he got out of them was a promise that the government would gladly give temporary shelter to German Jewish refugees providing the United States and other countries would provide permanent homes for them at a later date (which the U.S. refused to do and Kennedy didn’t push). Meanwhile, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain was still trying to avoid war through appeasement with Nazi Germany and maintaining a cordial relationship with Adolf Hitler.

On November 14, a bunch of Jews ousted from their homes during Kristallnacht, reached the border of Holland and actually begged on their knees to be allowed into the country. They were turned away. Similar scenes occurred at the French and Belgian borders. The Czech government let a group of refugees in and then shipped them back to the Reich two days later. Throughout this crisis, Jewish leaders appealed to Britain to relax their restrictions for allowing Jews to enter Palestine. Again, the doors were shut. Hitler must have laughed himself silly.

Anti-Semitism was alive and well in the United States...and still is. In the midst of the public outcries following Kristallnacht, there were reports of increased anti-Semitic incidents right here in the U.S. At a huge meeting at Madison Square Garden in New York, thousands of members of the German-American Bund defended the activities of the German government and railed against world Jewry. American citizen Fritz Kuhn spoke to the crowd, calling FDR “Frank D. Rosenfeld” and proclaiming that “if the United States is to avoid communism, the Jews in this country must be driven from their high posts in government, finance, and education, as they have been in certain European countries.” In Los Angeles, famed evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson ignored protests from the Hollywood Anti-Nazi League and invited anti-Semitic Gerald B. Winrod to act as preacher at her Angelus Temple on the Sunday following Kristallnacht. Winrod was the leader of a group called the Defenders of the Christian Faith and in his sermon he condemned the “coterie of international Jewish bankers who ruled the Gentile world by the power of gold.” Winrod believed that Hitler would save the world from Communism and that Franklin Roosevelt was a devil linked to the Jewish-Communist conspiracy. 

Winrod died in 1957 but his son and grandchildren are still going strong in their attempts to spread virulent anti-Semitism at their churches in Gainesville, Missouri, and southeast Alaska. To quote from a recent publication, if I can stomach it: “Every Jew is a pervert by religion…Reports in Jew dailies about child molesters are stories about Jews; for Jews are the child molesters. Without these sexual perversions, Judaism would perish! Jews entice Gentiles to sin by attacks of immorality. Then by ill-use of God’s Law, Jews turn these poor Gentiles, through guilt and despair, to hatred for God. Jews learn to hate God, and want to slay him. They murdered Him once, but not again; so they lust to kill and destroy His Christians, and all humanity, and all His creation. Judaism is the devil’s religion based on hatred for God, and perpetuated by the dark secret Talmudic doctrine of incest and sodomy of infants.” It goes on from there. Sigh.

I could continue but it’s too depressing. "We must not be silent about condemning anti-Semitism," German chancellor Angela Merkel declared today during 70th anniversary commemorations in Berlin. Merkel said that understanding the lessons of the nation's past were crucial in confronting the current increase in xenophobia and racism. Charlotte Knobloch, head of German's Central Council of Jews, told a gathering at Berlin's restored Rykestrasse Synagogue tonight that Germans must fight against far-right extremism in all its forms. 

While many people in this country and abroad worked feverishly to help the Jews following Kristallnacht, they were unable to move their governments to act when there was still time. We eventually defeated the Nazis, of course, and liberated the death camps, but I truly believe the United States and other countries could have saved millions of lives if they had acted more forcefully. So let’s mark this seventieth anniversary by recognizing that there are still plenty of people, groups, and governments who would persecute and scapegoat certain segments of society. Let’s be careful to not to repeat what we did in 1938: express revulsion and then close our eyes super tight. 

Election 2008: The Morning After

Above is a photo of my nephews Spencer and Sam, age 12 and 8, proudly holding their “Honored Guest” passes to the huge rally in Grant Park last night. They got to sit in the VIP section and witness history being made. I’m sure they will never forget it as long as they live, even if they didn’t get to bed until 2 am and had to go to school this morning on four hours of sleep. I never forgot the trip I made through Grant Park with my family when I was exactly Sammy’s age. We drove just a few feet from where Obama spoke last night to bear witness to the violence that had occurred hours earlier during the riots at the 1968 Democratic Convention. What a difference four decades makes and how great to see Chicago re-emerge in the national spotlight in such an incredibly positive way.

I picked Leah up at school yesterday to take her with us to vote. Leah goes to an extremely progressive middle school and when I arrived on the campus, I felt like I was walking into an Obama rally. As with any group of kids who largely ape their parents’ political views (in this case a cross-section of the kind of “elite” Hollywood liberals the Republicans love to rail against), there is a strong tendency toward rabid partisanship without a lot of facts to back up their points of view. I found myself grateful for Leah’s Republican Humanities teacher who tried to instill in his students a more sober attitude about the election that included educating themselves about the issues and avoiding a black-and-white “Democrats Are Good, Republicans Are Evil” stance. I was so proud of Leah when I heard that even though she herself is a huge supporter of Barack Obama, she vigorously defended a kid who had the guts to admit she was a McCain supporter from the verbal attack that followed by the rabid mob of Democratic students. Go, Leah!

At our polling place, I had tears in my eyes as I let Leah mark the Barack Obama circle on my ballot (she had a lot of questions about the other candidates who appeared on the ballot that none of us had ever heard of—Cynthia McKinney? Gloria LaRiva? Is there really still a Prohibition Party?). I insisted on casting my “No” vote for Proposition 8 myself and amidst all of today’s joyful news I am so deeply disappointed in California voters that this passed even if it was by a very narrow margin. So much for full equality for all citizens.

We watched  the returns for a few hours on a big screen set up in our neighbors’ backyard and I got increasingly nervous as the newscasters did everything they could to build up the suspense and try to make us believe that the race was much closer than it was. But with Pennsylvania turning blue on the map and then Ohio, even the hopeful Republican pundits had to admit that McCain was toast.

We then took Leah to the Ahmanson Theatre in downtown L.A. to see “Spring Awakening,” the Tony Award-winning rock musical based on the controversial 1891 German play by Frank Wedekind. I saw this show on Broadway last year and brought home the CD. Leah learned the entire score and couldn't wait to see the musical. The original play had been banned in Germany because of its depiction of masturbation,  homosexuality, abortion, rape, and suicide. (Let’s just say that Sarah Palin’s Wasilla church won’t be inquiring about group theatre tickets any time soon.) The musical’s theme of young people trying to find themselves during a time of great repression and conservatism seemed appropriate for this Election Day. 

Following a rousing song called “I Believe,” the lights came up for intermission and within seconds people started getting text messages that the election had been called for Obama. Screams of joy erupted first in the balcony and then spread to each part of the theatre. People were openly crying and hugging each other in the lobby,  in bathroom lines, and at the bar. I only saw one grim-faced elderly couple walking up the aisle. The man looked devastated as his wife said, “Honey, it’s not looking good.” I called my sister on her cell phone from the rally and heard Obama speaking live through her phone. What a thrill. The second act of the musical took on added meaning as the talented cast sang numbers called “The Guilty Ones,” “Those You’ve Known,” and “Totally Fucked.” We left the theatre in a throng of very happy Democrats and couldn’t believe how different this night had gone from 2000 and 2004 when we were up biting our nails until dawn.

Today I’ve been reading comments by conservatives on some political blogs who are dreading an avalanche of smugness from Democrats. I share this concern even though I’m often guilty of such smugness myself. Although I was horrified by the person John McCain seemed to become during the campaign, I thought his concession speech was one of the classiest ones I’ve ever heard. Of course politicians have to say those things after they lose, but McCain seemed sincere to me, as if he was finally free of the shackles of trying to win an election and could express himself more honestly. As people often say the day after, if only that McCain had been running for President, that’s the guy I used to respect! I’m not quite ready to be as magnanimous about Sarah Palin but I do vow that if she re-emerges on the national scene in a few years I will do my best to actually listen to what she’s saying and look at what she’s done instead of just treating her as the Poster Girl for everything liberals fear about conservatives. Not saying that I’d ever vote for her, but I can imagine a scenario where she is able to rehabilitate her image enough over the next few years to appear as a viable candidate for national office. Let’s see if she’s up to the challenge.

To end on an extremely self-serving note, it is beyond my comprehension that my family members not only know the President-Elect, they also know the actor who plays him on “Saturday Night Live” (Fred Armisen used to be my sister’s assistant). What are the chances?

Obama and his sister are huge Wilco fans and I’m crossing my fingers that my brother-in-law will be invited to play at the Inauguration. Adding to their chances is Obama’s selection this morning of Illinois Congressman Rahm Emanuel as his new White House Chief of Staff. Emanuel is also a big Wilco fan and when he ran into Sue and Jeff last night he joked to them that Jeff “owed him a concert.” Okay, Mr. Emanuel, I’ve checked Wilco’s schedule and they have an opening on January 20, 2009. I don’t kid myself that this means I’d ever get into the White House but I’m gunning for at least a video iChat from the Lincoln Bedroom. Do my delusions of grandeur count as Democratic smugness?

We Pause for a Brief Message from the 1908 Presidential Campaign

A few weeks ago, disgusted by the desperate tactics of the McCain campaign, I started to feel that this had to be the ugliest, most divisive and grueling presidential campaign in the history of this country. In the light of day, and perhaps buoyed by poll numbers that place the candidate I support far ahead of his opponent, I’m taking a step back and remembering how we say exactly the same thing every four years. Has this election really been uglier than the last two featuring Bush, Cheney, and Karl Rove’s bag of tricks? Or Daddy Bush’s infamous Willie Horton debacle? Can you name a campaign in your lifetime that didn’t descend into the depths, prompting all of us to decry negative campaigning even as we lapped it up (assuming the attacks weren’t aimed at our candidate)?

When the final nail is hammered into the coffin of Election 2008, I don’t think it’ll even make the Top Ten list of hideous campaigns (although Bush’s hijinks in the 2000 election certainly will). The presidential campaign of 1828 was so vicious that Andrew Jackson’s wife Rachel had a complete nervous breakdown and died of a heart attack three days before her husband’s inauguration. Yikes—that’s even worse than what happened to poor Kitty Dukakis. Jackson never forgave his political enemies for what he considered the “murder” of his beloved wife.

Both political parties today love to invoke the names of our Founding Fathers as paragons of virtue and true American values who would never sink to ugly tactics during an election year. Yet during the early years of this country, the 1800 presidential election witnessed some of the most vile smear campaigns in history, instigated by not one but THREE of our founding fathers. When President John Adams decided to run for re-election that year, imagine his surprise when his own vice president, Thomas Jefferson, made the decision to challenge his boss for the nomination. (I’m surprised Dick Cheney didn’t try that in 2004—maybe he couldn’t find his way out of his undisclosed location.) During Adams’ years in office, he and Jefferson had developed an intense dislike for each other. Adams thought Jefferson was a radical extremist who was in bed with French revolutionaries. Jefferson thought Adams was too much of a kiss-ass to the British royal family and he publicly referred to the overweight President as “his rotundity.” The Adams campaign to re-elect the President began a whispering campaign to discredit Jefferson, bringing up his relationship with Sally Hemings and the mulatto children he fathered. Because of Jefferson’s strong feelings about the separation of church and state, Adams also accused him of being an atheist and tried to convince the American people that if elected Jefferson would burn down churches and outlaw the Bible. Jefferson, in turn, accused Adams of being an unpatriotic tyrant whose kowtowing to the British royal family would undo the American Revolution. Founding father Alexander Hamilton got into the act as well when a private letter he wrote attacking Adams’ character and policies was made into a widely distributed pamphlet for the Jefferson campaign.

This weekend I was knee-deep in the archives of the Los Angeles Times from 1908 reading articles about Halloween from that year. No reason, I’m just insane and wanted to see how the holiday was celebrated in this city a hundred years ago. Did you know that back then Halloween was a multi-day affair? Thursday, October 29th was “doorbell night” with young people ringing neighborhood doorbells and hiding out of sight. When the door closed, they’d ring the doorbell again and then hide again until the homeowner finally grew tired of the ruse and ignored the ringing. Friday, October 30th was “gate night” in 1908. Halloween pranksters would take the front gate off of houses in the neighborhood and then hang them on nearby trees. Sheds, outhouses, and anything else on the property that wasn’t nailed down would be overturned.

On October 31st, kids would wander through the neighborhood in costume trick-or-treating as they do today, but there were far more tricks for houses that didn’t come up with the goods. In 1908, the Los Angeles Police Department sent out its entire force to try to stop the shenanigans.

An army of blue-coated “goblins,” with brass buttons and shining stars, stalked the streets last night and terrified the boys who tried Halloween pranks. Clarence Erway, 16 years old, of No. 902 Sunset boulevard, was caught while rolling a telephone cable spool on a street car track in front of his home, and was taken to the Police Station. He was charged with a felony and will be prosecuted by the street railway company. Several attempts were made to grease the rails, but the boys were driven off before any damage was done. A crowd of boys stole about eight gallons of ice cream from Morley’s Dancing Academy, where a Halloween party was held. A gate was carried away at No. 839 West Sixth street and the windows were broken in a real estate office on Vermont avenue.

But what really struck me about the articles is that, like this year, the country was finally nearing the end of a bitter presidential campaign. The popular Republican President, Theodore Roosevelt, had decided to honor his campaign pledge and not run for a third term. Roosevelt had convinced the Republicans to nominate his close friend and Secretary of War, William Howard Taft. The Democrats hadn’t won a national election since Grover Cleveland in 1892 and they were desperate to reverse their fates. They nominated popular lawyer William Jennings Bryan who’d been a major player in the Democratic Party and had already been the nominee twice before, in the elections of 1896 and 1900 which he lost to William McKinley.

By Halloween, Bryan was trailing badly in the polls, and some say was the victim of a partisan Halloween prank when his train to Chicago was delayed for so many hours that his chance to rev up his supporters who were gathered in Chicago were dashed.

The Halloween sprites that carry off front doors and gates and lower cats down chimneys, played their prize prank last night when they kidnapped William Jennings Bryan and thwarted his plan to make one last desperate stand in Chicago. He had been advertised to appear at four mass meetings in the city, and the meetings were in progress when word came that the Bryan special had broken down in Indiana, and that the candidate would be unable to appear.

Mr. Bryan finally reached the city at 12:30 this morning. He looked worn out and travel-stained and his voice was a mere shred. With him was Mrs. Bryan. “You ought to be in jail,” exclaimed the local Democratic Party head reproachfully as he extended his hand. “The biggest crowds you ever saw waited for you all evening!”

“I couldn’t help it,” pleaded the candidate.

Were Taft’s emissaries responsible for the delay of the train? Possibly, but it wouldn’t have mattered, Bryan was already toast. Of his three presidential campaigns, he suffered his biggest loss in 1908. Taft received 321 electoral votes to Bryan’s measly 162.

Like today, it hadn’t been a pretty campaign and the American people were exhausted and ready to move on. But in marked contrast to today, Bryan’s support came mostly in the South and he was lagging far behind in the Northeast. The Republicans tried to convince voters that Bryan was a religious fanatic who surrounded himself with anarchists who would wreck the economy. 

There were lots of topsy-turvy moments in the 1908 campaign if we consider how the two parties are viewed today. It was the Democratic candidate who was a fierce opponent of evolution and wanted to get it banned from the schools. It was the Republican candidate who declared himself a pacifist and was seen as a progressive. Taft was a Unitarian and told a reporter, “I do not believe in the divinity of Christ, and there are many other of the postulates of the orthodox creed to which I cannot subscribe to.” No one could accuse President Taft of trying to appease to the Religious Right!

Taft never really wanted to be President and was talked into it by his wife and by Theodore Roosevelt, his close friend who would become his bitter enemy by 1912 (ah, politics!). Taft’s wife Helen was pretty evolved for her day. She had strong opinions about many important matters and was the first wife of a President to ride with her husband down Pennsylvania Avenue on Inauguration Day. Helen Taft was responsible for planting Washington’s famous cherry trees and personally planted the first two saplings in 1912. She was the only First Lady to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery until Jackie Kennedy was buried there in 1994.

After leaving office, Taft achieved his lifelong dream in 1921 when President Wilson named him Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, a position Taft held until 1930, the year he died. Taft had not been a very popular President, lacking the charisma of his predecessor. Among his many decisions, he had opposed the admission of Arizona into the United States (hello, John McCain!) but that still occurred during his time in office.  After his presidency, he fought against the U.S. entering into World War I, even urging men to resist the draft, and he founded the League to Enforce Peace (can you imagine a Republican getting away with that today?). He was most proud of his service on the Supreme Court and remarked toward the end of his life, “I don’t remember that I ever was President.”

William Jennings Bryan post-1908 career included lots of stumping for Prohibition and other causes one would today associate more with conservative Republicans. He stayed involved in politics and became Woodrow Wilson’s Secretary of State between 1913 and 1915. But he remained a controversial figure. In 1924, Bryan opposed a resolution at the Democratic Convention that condemned the Ku Klux Klan. Ever the pragmatist, he felt that the Democrats could not afford to alienate white racists in the South. Of course Bryan is most famous for his important role in the 1925 Scopes Trial when he promoted his anti-evolution views and suffered under the cross-examination of Clarence Darrow. He died five days after the trial ended.

The Republicans didn’t have to resort to calling Bryan a socialist during the 1908 campaign because there was a third candidate that year: the charismatic Eugene V. Debs who was the official candidate of the Socialist Party of America and received half a million votes. Debs ran for President a total of four times, more than doubling his votes in every election. He was a great speaker but I don’t think Barack Obama will be invoking his words any time soon.

So there you have it. A hundred years ago tomorrow, on November 3, 1908, the American people were choosing between a progressive Republican who was against war, a deeply religious Democrat who wanted to criminalize booze and ban the teaching of evolution, and a firebrand Socialist who wanted to emancipate the working class. No wonder McCain and Obama haven't been throwing any centennial celebrations for these guys!