We Were Not Alone

Seems like science fiction, but for a long time, Homo sapiens were not the only human beings on earth. And there were a lot of them. And they lived in a very large area that included most of Europe, much of Asia, and probably, in many other places, too (but we haven’t yet found the evidence). They were far more sophisticated than you might imagine, very similar to our own kind as we evolved, in parallel, from about 350,000 years ago until (fairly recently?) until about 40,000 years ago. If we extended our individual family trees back to that time, most or many of us would find parents, aunts, and uncles, and plenty of cousins who were Neanderthal or mixed with our own kind, and quite likely, mixed with other early humans, too (and, probably, other species). This is not some exotic scientific story. This is the story of our own lives. And no less messy.

This morning, I happened to see a cartoon drawing of two large bears inspecting a minivan. On the back window of the vehicle were stick figures of a human family. One bear remarks, “Look! A menu!” It’s not easy to study the Neanderthals, or other early hominids, because they were eaten, destroyed in battle and accidents, burned, and buried. In fact, buried is good–if you know where to look. So far, we’ve been lucky enough to find bones, tools, settlements, but not many of them. Still, it’s a start, and we’ll no doubt find a lot more throughout the 21st century as we improve our satellite imaging (for example). In the meantime, scientists and historians have figured out some parts of the puzzle. Bear in mind that humans have been pursuing archeology for just over 150 years–and for the first 50-100 years, there were a lot of questions about validity, integrity, and there was astonished disbelief because humans (and their religions) didn’t want to consider the possibility that we were not alone as a human race. Getting past the idea of a “missing link” between humans and apes was, and perhaps remains, a problem, too. And this is made more complicated because Neanderthals are “extremely similar creatures to us” but “many simultaneous pathways existed, some finishing in dead ends, others like Neanderthals developing their own unique bodies and minds that were a match from our own.”

I’m quoting Rebecca Wragg Sykes, a remarkably talented storytelling and scientific historian whose book, KINDRED: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art is an absolute delight. She keeps the story interesting (fascinating would be a better word), piling on the historical details, open questions, likely facts, and the vast vastness of things we don’t know. I love that.

So far, we’ve found about 250 Neanderthal bodies, or enough parts and pieces of bodies to develop some ideas about their lives. We will certainly find a lot more. Their brains and our brains–about the same size (“just as big and deliberating as your own”) Their brow–more expansive than ours. Their babies’ chins–less prominent, so our babies are, or were, probably cuter than their babies. Their eyes–bigger than ours, noting that “people from higher latitudes have eyeballs up to 20 percent bigger than those from near the equator.” Their ears–very similar to our own, inside and out. Their noses–certainly larger, so they could “snort in the air at almost twice the rate we do.” But why? Here’s the speculative layer that’s found throughout the book–questions about whether the larger nose provided greater airflow, more air filtering and conditioning, or a more powerful or refined sense of smell. “…in some ways, Neanderthals’ large internal structures resemble reindeer and saga antelope, which have extensive mucous membranes to reduce dehydration and heat loss…[but] the internal structures in Neanderthals appears to be worse at air conditioning than our own.”

There’s a strangeness about discovering Neanderthal life expressed in time and distance. They lived for several hundred years in an expanse from Spain to Siberia. When something is discovered about a particular body or settlement, one must consider not only where it was found but also when. That’s because cultures and communities are always in motion–so a place-based assumption may, in fact, be more of a time-based assumption. Think in terms of discovering a human body from the Middle Ages in France and another from two years ago in Vancouver, British Columbia, and making statements about their dental care, or their diet. Assumptions must be carefully considered. Now, expand the time scale from a thousand years to twenty thousand years–the assumptions become that much flakier.

Tools: “More artisans than klutzes, [Neanderthals] appreciated the right tools for the job. Selecting hammers…was crucial. Small cobbles have the necessary mass to hit hard for big flakes, but for more delicate work, pebbles are better. And using soft rather than hard hammers produces different effects. Elastic organic materials like antler and bone or even dense rock like limestone spread out the kinetic energy and produce thinner, longer flakes…Tools were often retouched, sometimes to give a particular edge, but often to resharpen them–flakes dull very fast even when cutting meat.” So: yes, Neanderthals made and used a variety of tools for a variety of purposes, just as we did, and do today. This suggests the range of activities they pursued–hardly anything as simple as hitting a bear with a wooden club, though they may have done that, too. They used wood to make spears: “far from pointed sticks…finely crafted from thin spruce and a single Scots pine, their tips are all at the stump end: the hardest part. The shafts were systematically carved off-center for increased strength…Experiments show that the shorter-throwing spears easily range to 30 meters (30 yards).”

Their diet was varied. “Beavers’ fatty tails would have been succulent treats…they certainly gorged on tortoises…dolphins, seal and large fish…ticks and lice might have been nibbled while grooming hair…Neanderthals hunted [bears] more than other predators…burning hints at cooking right there in the den.” They ate plants, too–pine, mushrooms, moss. They cooked stews. They soaked acorns, then boiled them, a far more sophisticated conception than eating only raw meat. They fermented food, one of many examples of planning and preparation.

I could go on through where they lived, how they raised their children and families, the art they made, their customs and care for the dead, and more. There is so much in KINDRED, and so much of it is captivating. And I am so looking forward to the next book from Ms. Sykes. I have found a new favorite author.

Happy 60th Anniversary, Arhoolie!

In this season of abundant music, I wanted to draw your attention toward something quite special and quite unique. Sixty years ago, Chris Strachwitz founded a record label to celebrate authentic folk music and blues. The label’s first release remains a personal favorite: Mance Lipscomb: Texas Sharecropper and Songster, recorded in rural Texas and released in 1961.

It’s wonderful that the story continues to this day. Even better that there is a free (please donate) documentary featuring the history and lots and lots of really terrific performances by and in memory of Arhoolie Records artists. Right now, I am thoroughly enjoying “Morning Train” by The Campbell Brothers band–so much fun to see this spectacular rendition recorded simply and so effectively. (It begins at 1:28:40 on the YouTube video.)

Man, this is great stuff! Taj Mahal opens with a Mance Lipscomb tune, and that’s followed by a rocking Ry Cooder version of a track from Big Joe Williams Tough Times, an album he remembers buying (his father hated it). The song is “Sloppy Drunk.”

Some of the best music here comes from the label’s dedication to Mexican music. Arhoolie released several albums by Lydia Mendoza, remembered here with a fresh and impassioned La Marisoul, backed up by Max Baca, whose own band, Los Texmaniacs updates a song recorded by Flaco Jimenez, who recorded for Arhoolie. (Jimenez “was introduced to the outside world by Ry Cooder–everything is connected!) “Un Mojado Sin Licencia (A Wetbaack Without a License)” is sung first by Jimenez, then by Los Texmaniacs, and both are terrific.

What am I missing? There’s Cajun music with BeauSoleil, several members of the Treme, and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Z.Z. Top’s Billy Gibbons (singing a Lightnin’ Hopkins song), a story by the Hungarian Csôkolom, blues star Charlie Musselwhite (who used to earn money on the side by delivering records for Chris). You might know Sugar Pie DeSanto, Ruthie Foster, or Barbie Dane, but you’ll know them after you watch this documentary–and you’ll not soon forget them.

And then, and at last in the documentary, there’s Mississippi Fred MacDowell, celebrated by Bonnie Raitt. She offers a big hug and thank you to Chris, then sings and plays a lovely version of MacDowell’s “Write Me a Few Lines” and “Kokomo Blues.” Gorgeous. So great!

Hosted by American Routes radio host Nick Spitzer, the documentary was released on Thursday, December 10. It’s nearly two hours long. I loved every minute of it. UPDATE: Unfortunately, it’s no longer available online.

Akin to the Internet, circa 1920

One version of our story begins in 1874, midway between Cleveland and Buffalo, about 20 miles inland from Lake Erie, on the shore of Lake Chautauqua. Another version begins a half-century earlier, in 1826, in a town called Millbury, just south of Worcester, Massachusetts. The third takes shape in 1904 in Iowa and Nebraska, in part because small towns could now be reached by the railroads out of Chicago.

Here’s what happened.

“In an age when most Americans had acquired only a grade school education,” two educators who were involved with Sunday schools “recognized the power of education to elevate, enlarge and enrich lives.” They were Reverend John Heyl Vincent, a Methodist minister who had become Secretary of the Sunday School Union, and Lewis Miller, a former teacher who became a businessman (farm machinery) who served as the Superintendent of Sunday School and at his church and President of the Board of Education in his hometown of Akron, Ohio. Together, on the pretty shore of Lake Chautauqua, they put together a conference for 2,500 Sunday school teachers for two weeks during the summer of 1874, mostly to listen to lectures and seminars about religion. When they did it again the following year, they added music from the Tennesseans, who sang plantation songs from the American South, and non-religious lecturers, notably President Ulysses S. Grant (he had been a former parishioner at Miller’s church in Illinois). A year later, there were lectures about chemistry, geology, and astronomy.

When I visited Chautauqua in 2014, I wrote about the experience. If I had stayed the full nine-week season in 2019, I would have attended lectures by public radio’s Krista Tippett and Ira Glass; Middlebury College President Laurie L. Patton; comedians David Steinberg and Lewis Black; author and activist Bill McKibben; writer and author James Fallows; author of The Death and Life of the Great Lakes Dan Egan. I would have gone to concerts featuring Judy Collins, Madeleine Peyroux, Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn, Diana Ross, the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis; and a lot of vocal and chamber groups whose names are unfamiliar. I would sit in on each morning’s lecture/sermon by a notable Chaplain, watched performances of several operas (The Barber of Seville, and Figaro), and just walked along the beautiful shore. If you’d like to imagine what you would have done, every season since 2007, follow this link and enjoy. They are now planning their 2021 summer season. And they’ve introduced an online version that I’ll write about in the future; it’s called Chautauqua Assembly.

Yes, it’s amazing that this bit of 1870s culture remains vibrant and remarkably successful 150 years after it began, but that’s only part of our story.

Now, let’s jump back to the late 1820s and 1830s–where the roots of today’s public radio reside (GBH began just ten years later). Somewhat similar to today’s TEDTalks, the Lyceum circuit provided lecturers to more than 3,000 theaters and public spaces all over the country. There were big stars on the circuit: Mark Twain, P.T. Barnum, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglass, Abraham Lincoln, and other U.S. Presidents, and lots of lesser-knowns. But there was a problem. No air conditioning. No climate control for hot indoor spaces during the summer–so the Lyceum circuit was, mostly, a wintertime activity. Until one day…

Keith Vauter, who managed western states and territories for a booking agency that supplied the Lyceum Circuit with talent, decided to try a new approach. The Chautauqua concept in upstate New York had inspired summer chautauquas in other places. He figured he could book his talent during the summer, and expand his business. His first attempt–in 1904–failed because the logistics of moving so many performers to so many locations was just too expensive. As Vauter improved the logistics and came up with a way for local communities to guarantee the cost of their own chautauqua, the concept took off. Borrowing ideas from traveling circuses, vaudeville, and theater troupes, they devised what became a very popular idea: the traveling chautauqua. At least until 1929, when a combination of talking motion pictures and the Depression more-or-less ended the fun. For about 25 years, traveling Chautauqua “served to provide small towns with a deeper sense of self, community, nation, the world, and God. They spanned the silent movie era, the Progressive Age, and the transportation shift from horse-and-buggy to automobile.”

There is great wisdom in the chautauqua movement, and in the Lyceum movement, and in their intermingled roots of what has since become radio, television, some of the Internet, some of the entertainment industry, and more. When I started to become curious, I found two extraordinary experts who knew the culture and the whole story. The first was Harry P. Harrison, who was among the first “platform superintendents” for the new Chautauqua circuit way back in 1903. He wrote, or dictated, a book to co-author Karl Detzer, a professional writer; it’s called Culture Under Canvas: The Story of Tent Chautauqua (published in 1958; I found an autographed copy for $3 in a used bookstore). The second is newer, written by a college professor who worked with music students in summer Chautauqua for many years. It’s called The Traveling Chautauqua, and the author is Roger E. Barrows. The material quoted in this article comes from that book.

So: what was it like, going to a tent chautauqua for a week in the 1920s?

From Missouri’s Joplin Globe: The most famous Chautauqua speaker was the founder of Temple University, Russell Conwell. Conwell is said to have given his “Acres of Diamonds” speech 6,150 times between 1882 and 1925. Much in the spirit of self-improvement found in chautauquas, Conwell emphasized that developing his talents and skills is what made a man successful — or diamonds could be found in one’s own backyard. He and perennial presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan were two of the most sought-after speakers.”

Harrison tells stories about the many performers who helped make his career. Barrows breaks it down by type of performer, provides many more pictures, and also includes excerpts from their scripts.

“Madame Ernestine Schumann-Heink sweeps onto the stage. She is a large woman whose presence dominates the platform. Her rich voice, with its wide range…begins with the spring aria from the Saint-Saens opera, Samson and Delilah.” (“When the movement began in 1874, all music was live.”) “To the perpetual spinning sounds of the piano, Madame Schumann-Heink becomes Gretchen at the spinning wheel, expressing her mounting heartache as she comes to realize the emptiness of Faust’s promises…Schubert’s art song travels from the Austrian metropolis of Vienna to the small towns of Texas and Ohio…The artist would later recount how, in the midst of her signing, she could hear the mooing of cows…”

Bohumir Kyrl, who had played with Sousa, conducted his own popular band and became a star performing on cornet. College girls, on an adventure for the summer, would sing classical, art, and popular songs. The Jubilee Singers (the Fisk University group was one of several) would “harmonize a cappella;” “they had heard tales of slavery from their parents’ laps, and…had personal experiences with racism, (as they expressed) the “anguish and sorrow of the original singers.” There were authentic Indian princesses who performed on piano, sang songs, and shared legends of their people. The Raweis were Native New Zealanders on tour through the American hinterlands. At a time when actors were not welcome in God-fearing small towns, Lucille Adams was an “interpreter,” also called a “reader,” who read and spoke expressively, but didn’t quite “act.” In time, the circuit tried a Shakespearean acting troupe led by Ben Greet, a legitimate Shakespearean actor, and they became popular, famous, and well-traveled, introducing Shakespeare’s work to audiences who had never seen anything quite like it. Eugene Laurent was a popular magician on the circuit.

There were cooking lessons, many lecturers who specialized in a loving life at home, and plenty of preachers. Billy Sunday was a former professional baseball player who converted to evangelical Christianity and became one of its most famous spokespeople. Lots of souls were saved in the chautauqua tents, of lives transformed. Many religions were represented; Rabbi Emil Hirsch of Chicago’s Sinai Congregation helped non-Jews understand his religion.

One of the most famous speakers relied upon religion with a more old-time flavor, not only for his tremendous success on the circuit but also as the basis for three runs for U.S. President–William Jennings Bryan, at the time, one of the best-known American citizens. (You’ll recall his name and presence from the Scopes Trial and the play, Inherit the Wind). Reformer Jane Addams was on the circuit in 1909 and 1919. Women’s suffrage was a hot topic on the circuit, too. Jeanette Rankin often spoke about that–she being the first woman elected to the U.S. Congress.

From 1909 to 1912, Peter MacQueen talked about his adventures hunting for big game with Teddy Roosevelt in Africa. Around the same time, Frederick A. Cook spoke–more than 350 times–and claimed to be the first man to reach the North Pole (Peary was second). Booker T. Washington spoke about progress through education at chautauquas around 1914, and a few years earlier, Florence Mayrick talked about her life in an English prison. When the chautauaqua was in town, everyone was elevated, educated, and thrilled. Truly, this was something special in towns where not much special happened very often.

And then, it was over. This huge chunk of American education for adults, and for the entire family, just went away. Radio took its place with an even wider variety of education, religion, entertainment and more. And then, television, and then, the internet.

The best way to experience a chautauqua is to buy a ticket for several days, or longer, for the original that still runs in New York State. The second best, which may be pretty darned good, is to find yourself a local chautauqua like the one that the Wythe Arts Council runs in Wytheville, Virginia, or the weekend festival in Madison, Indiana, or the one that feels intentionally old-fashioned in Mountain Lake Park, Maryland, an old B&O Railroad town and former resort that was, in the day, home to an original Chautauqua traveling show. As soon as things open up again, they’re on my list–and if you know of any others, please add them to the comments below.

AND–for even more fun–check this out! It’s an industry trade magazine from June 1922–and it’s chock full of advertisements, news stories, photographs, listings of booking agents, and so much more. The magazine is called Lyceum Magazine: For the Lyceum and the Chautauqua.

Seeing 10 Years into the Future

Somehow, even in the shadow of the virus, we can see 2030 with surprising clarity. We know a lot, and we can make good guesses about much of what we don’t know. In fact, I’ve been doing this for several years, traveling the world, speaking to university audiences, explaining how and why Southern Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa are the places that today’s students must study because of their enormous population increases and their associated growth as consumer markets. I’ve been focused on the lives and futures of young people growing up in the 21st century, much of it connection with Kids on Earth, a global interview project, and my work as a Senior Scholar at The University of Pennsylvania.

In fact, it was a browse through a UPenn newsletter that led me to Professor Mauro F. Guillén, a colleague at UPenn’s Wharton School. About two months ago, Guillén published a book entitled 2020: How Today’s Biggest Trends Will Collide and Reshape the Future of Everything. My interest in children, teenagers, parents, and schools; his is business, economics and government, but our circles overlap with plenty of shared space.

For both of us, the key to the secrets of the 21st century is the number of babies being born, where they are being born, the number of people who are living long lives, and where they are living those lives. He sets the stage with the rapid growth of the world’s population: 3 billion by 1960, 4 billion by 1975, 5 billion by 1987, 6 billion by 2000, and 7 billion by 2010.

And then: “The reality is that by 2030 we will be facing a baby drought.”

Take a closer look: “for every baby born in the United States, 4.4 are being born in China, 6.5 in India, and 10.2 in Africa” and “improvements in nutrition and disease prevention in the poorest parts of the world have made it possible for an increasing number of babies to reach adulthood and become parents themselves.” And so, by 2030: “South Asia (including India) will consolidate its position as the number-one region in terms of population size. Africa will become the second-largest region, while East Asia (including China) will be relegated to third place. Europe, which in 1950 was the second largest, will fall to sixth place, behind Southeast Asia…and Latin America.”

If 21st-century governments were more open to immigrants, the trends could equalize, but they’re going in the opposite direction–limiting incoming populations from countries whose people they need in order to maintain not only sufficiently large populations but also sufficiently young ones. That is, Europe and The United States will become increasingly old–which is terrible for the economy (the success of Social Security in the U.S., for example, relies upon income from the younger population, which disappears if there aren’t enough babies and aren’t enough immigrants). As we make these (okay, the correct word really is “stupid”) decisions, we are making an economic and social mess for ourselves.

It’s always instructive to study maps. One of my current favorites compares the size of the African continent with various countries. If you move the countries around like jigsaw puzzle pieces, you can fit all of China into the part of Africa that’s south of the equator, with all of India and all of the United States, and Eastern Europe, and France, Germany, and Spain, and still find enough space on the continent for The U.K., Japan, Italy, Switzerland, and a bunch of other countries. It’s not easy to think clearly about Africa, or any other place unless you understand its size, its history, and its potential for the future. Incredibly, people in the countries listed above know very little about Africa (challenge yourself: how many African countries can you name? how many cities?)

Perhaps women will think more clearly than men have done. This is the other huge trend: women graduating from higher education, with more advanced degrees than men, and gradually gaining power in both industry and government. They marry later–average age of first time mothers is now 28 years old. For example, “in the 1950s, about 7 percent of women between the ages of 25 and 29 had a college degree, half the rate of men. Nowadays, the proportion of women with a college degree is 40 percent, while the figure for men is only 32 percent.”

Now, let’s think about old age. People really are living longer–science, medicine, biotech, nutrition, hygiene, education, social programs–everything contributes to longevity. “By 2030, the average 70 year old will live like today’s average 50 year old.” We’ll be aided by robotics, and devices that make it easier to climb stairs, maintain balance, diagnose disease more quickly, and more–all of this takes shape during the current decade. In many ways, this is driven by necessity. For example, “by 2025, Japan will need 1 million nurses the country currently doesn’t have.” In the U.S., as in most countries, “about 90 percent of paid senior care is done by immigrants”–but our present-day policies are limiting the number of available workers. If Japan solves the problem with robots–a significant current effort–perhaps the U.S. will benefit.

Forget about “keeping up with the Joneses.” Now, we’re “keeping up with the Singhs and the Wangs.” Forget about your current notions of cities as a great place to live and work. (We’re seeing this in the real estate market as many people leave the crowded cities for locations with fewer people, less crowding, and increasingly excellent services.) Many cities exist near bodies of water, and with climate change, water levels are rising, and storms are causing chaos. Also on the subject of water, several cities in India are illustrating a nasty future in which water supply is insufficient for population needs. (“A majority will face formidable challenges related to pollution, congestion, and security. The cities most exposed to climate change will suffer from a shortage of freshwater and an excess of saltwater.”) Less so, perhaps, for food needs as vertical farming is becoming to take hold. And yet, some cities are flourishing–even during the pandemic, and hopefully, afterwards–because of creative class and knowledge workers–but these are precisely the folks who can work just about anywhere.

Present-day assumptions about ownership may be giving way to newer assumptions about sharing (a phenomenon slowed by the pandemic). Assumptions about the ways money and banking work are also taking shape in new ways–look at the progress made by PayPal, Venmo, and credit cards in a marketplace where so many people are now reluctant to handle paper currency and coins. We may be seeing the end of non-digital money by 2030.

I like the quote from William Faulkner that begins the end of the book: “You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.” So here we are, stuck in the pandemic, questioning whether we all ever return to the old normal, strikingly unaware of so many of the realities already in the “high likelihood” category for 2030. We’ve already lost sight of the shore; we just haven’t accepted that reality.

The author’s suggestion that we “approach uncertainty with optimism” may be the only approach that makes sense in what is now a fairly crazy world of the future.

The RSA: Climate Change Requires Immediate Attention

I’m always impressed with The RSA’s animations. This one was just released. It tells an important and urgent story about climate change. Acknowledging the nastiness of dealing with two catastrophes at the same time, this video runs less than five minutes–and the visuals bring the topic to life.

Be safe, everyone.

Jeffrey Sachs Talks about the U.S. and the World

 

Sachs sees the world very clearly. After watching these 11 minutes, I know more about the world than I did before.

For a more comprehensive explanation of multilateralism, I refer to this Brookings article.

A City of Books

Although the idea of writing a book about books and bookstores for people who enjoy books seems to be both precious and redundant, I find browsing, then reading, these books to be irresistible. The newest in this genre is A Booklover’s Guide to New York, by which author Cleo Le-Tan and illustrator Pierre Le-Tan seem to mean not the state of New York, nor most of the city of New York, but instead, the island of Manhattan. And that’s just fine: few places on earth contain a richer assortment of delights for people who love books.

The book is set up as a combination of a tour and a series of conversations. The first stop is The Mysterious Bookshop, down in TriBeCa, relocated from further uptown, accurately described as “a homey destination” and “a haven for any crime, suspense and thriller reader.” Next page: an interview with Otto Penzler, who owns the shop, and founded Mysterious Press back in the mid-1970s. It’s fun to read his back story–so many people who live in NYC have a backstory–after he started the publishing house, and it succeeded, he decided to open a shop without knowing anything at all about starting or operating a retail enterprise. What was the key to success?: women started writing popular mystery fiction, and that attracted more female readers. He describes Manhattan as “ground zero” for mystery.

Within walking distance: Poet’s House at 10 River Terrace, which has been operating for three decades, “still prides itself on “bringing world-renowned poets to new audiences. And: Richardson, at 325 Broome St., owned by Andrew Richardson, who also publishes a magazine (same name as the shop), with a selection that is “either deeply intellectual, aesthetically pleasing, or highly sophisticated.” And sometimes, erotic. This is not just a book filled with pages about bookstores; the Seward Park Library is one of several public libraries. Opened in 1909, it’s located in Chinatown, which tends to be busy much of the day and night, but here, there is quiet. And a lot of books. And all of the modern conveniences. Museums get their due, too. The first is the Tenement Museum, located at 103 Orchard Street (all of the places in this paragraph are walkable from one another, but subways and buses can shorten the travel times). The museum offers guided tours of life more than a century ago in lower Manhattan, a time when poor European immigrants lived in close quarters. Of course, it includes a specialist bookstore.

Let’s head to midtown. It’s a healthy walk, about two miles north, but it’s quick and easy to hop on the subway. Mostly, this is a busy business district with lots of skyscrapers. My favorite bookstore–the Gotham Book Mart–is among the many shops that are no longer there. But there are plenty of places to visit, and perhaps, buy even more books. If you’re staying overnight, there’s the Library Hotel, 299 Madison Avenue at 41st Street, one of a growing number of hotels with their own collections of books for guests (these are popping up all over the world). The Morgan Library & Museum is a notable Manhattan landmark, and “originally the private library of one of America’s most notable financiers, Pierpont Morgan.” The Morgan also hosts special book-related events and other arts events. It is simply a stunning place. Even more fun: The Drama Book Shop, filled with scripts, scores, and all things theater. Under new ownership–Lin-Manuel Miranda and several of his Hamilton cronies–a new shop opens soon. A short walk leads to the main branch of The New York Public Library, at 42nd Steet and Fifth Avenue, with its awesome map room, classic reading room, and so many places you’ve seen in magazines and in movies. Next, it’s over to Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44 Street, where “right after World I, a group of rather intelligent and witty twenty-something New York writers, critics, and actors, and nicknamed themselves ‘The Vicious Circle,” and included NY Times theater critic Alexander Woolcott, Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, and Robert E. Sherwood.

As time and interest allow, there’s John Steinbeck’s apartment at 190 East 72 Street, walkable but again, a subway is faster. And if you want to further explore Manhattan’s Upper East Side, check the schedule for the 92nd Street Y, 1395 Lexington Avenue, because there are often authors and various performers on stage discussing their work: in March, the list includes novelist Zadie Smith, Maria Kalman on her new book about Alice B. Toklas, film director Barry Sonnenfeld talking about his new book with Jerry Seinfeld, E.J. Dionne, Hilary Mantel, Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn on their new book, a lot of musical performances, and more. Right nearby: La Librairie des Enfants, a charming lending library, and an informal community center. Also in the neighborhood: Kitchen Arts & Letters at 1435 Lexington Avenue, offering not only cookbooks but tons of books about food history and related topics

What about the other boroughs? Sure, there are a few pages about the Bronx (2 pages, plus a good interview with local author Richard Price), Brooklyn (The Center for Fiction–moved after two centuries in Manhattan, The Central Library, which is not part of the New York Public Library but a magnificent enterprise of its own) and Queens (a lovely story about fulfilling the need for neighborhood bookstores–Kew & Willow Books).

There are some photographs, but they tend to be small and suggest snapshots. Better are the pen-and-ink illustrations that do not attempt to support the text in a literal way. Instead, the pictures provide a sense of place, offer little piles of books and the occasional bookworm. Think about the use of spot illustrations in the New Yorker magazine–but add spot color.

 

(Note: New Yorker illustrator Pierre Le-Tan died in October 2019.)

 

 

 

TIME’s Youngest Person of the Year–Before Greta Thunberg

I decided to do some counting. So far, Greta is the youngest individual TIME Magazine Person of the Year.

Before Greta, can you figure out who the holder of the “youngest individual” was? Here are several possible answers:

– Mark Zuckerberg
– Queen Elizabeth II
– Mahatma Gandhi
– Wallis Simpson
– Charles Lindbergh

I will publish the correct answer in the next blog post.

But while we’re all paying attention, I did notice that the vast majority of winners have been older white men: 73 in all. During that same period, there have been just 6 females–and including Greta, just one other female since 1987. (Yes. TIME should probably question its processes). She was:

– Margaret Thatcher
– Elizabeth Warren
– Hilary Clinton
– Angela Merkel
– J.K. Rowling

Again, look for the correct answer in the next blog post.

One final thought: during the past few years, and throughout its history, TIME has given the honor to, for example, The Computer, The Endangered Earth, and the Ebola Fighters. Who was Greta’s immediate individual predecessor as Person of the Year?

– Barack Obama
– Donald Trump
– Nancy Pelosi
– Beyoncé
– Tim Cook

Answers to come.

An Absolute Joy

Screen Shot 2019-11-21 at 6.56.08 PM.png‘Tis the season for annual performances of Handel’s Messiah, a magnificent oratorio notable for catchy melodies, high drama, and extreme reverence. It feels great to sit in a concert hall and listen to music composed in 1741–and it feels even better to stand up and sing along. The British novelist Jonathan Keates recaps the compelling story of Handel, oratorios, and the era’s version of what becomes show business in a 150-page book called Messiah: The Composition and Afterlife of Handel’s Masterpiece. It’s a wonderful starting place for a holiday adventure through what is variously called “early music” or “baroque classical music.”

I stumbled into the world of Henry Purcell, William Byrd, Josquin, Lassus, Monteverdi, and their contemporary counterparts, John Tavener, Arvo Pärt, and James MacMillan by watching free YouTube videos and listening to CDs by a wonderful choral group called The Sixteen led by the remarkable Harry Christophers. I would certainly apply the term, “an absolute joy” to the 4-and-a-half minute YouTube video “Monteverdi Vespers / Apollo’s Fire” from 1610. It’s played by a pair of orchestras–a small string group and a small brass group tied together with a continuo section consisting of a lute, an early keyboard, and a harp–and a choir that performs with beauty, grace and virtuosity.Screen Shot 2019-11-21 at 6.56.08 PM.png

I mentioned that I found this music rather by accident. Truth be told, when I started building an LP library, baroque music was, well, very inexpensive. I could buy the records, in fine condition, for about $3 each (as opposed to about $5 for other classical LPS, $10 for the jazz LPs I wanted, and more for the rock/pop recordings). So I bought a lot of them, figuring I would discard what I did not like. I loved it all, and now, I’ve got a problem with available shelf space. But I did not buy any music by The Sixteen because the material is not available on LP.

If I was just beginning to listen today, I would probably begin with a 40 track sampler entitled 40: The Anniversary Album

The number 40 refers to the age of The Sixteen–they began with a concert performance in May, 1979. The music on this 2-CD set reaches back much further–over 600 years. It’s an ideal holiday gift–for those who still listen to CDs in their home or car. (It’s also available on iTunes, etc.)

If you listen with your heart, it’s easy to fall in love. I would begin by darkening the room, and playing the Handel Coronation Anthems on a video screen connected to a good pair of loudspeakers. This performance, from the BBC’s popular PROMS, bursts into large-scale choral energy with wonderful conducting (fun to watch Harry Christophers at his best) and beautiful instrumental work. The CD is even better because the sound quality is extraordinary (true for all of their work, on their CORO label), and because there’s twice as much music.

While we’re on Handel… one of the newest recordings by The Sixteen is an opera called Acis and Galatea. It’s not a big opera–and you can watch the opera with its five singers and small instrumental ensemble to sense each individual musician’s magic. Watch the video promo, listen to Harry explain what they are doing and why, and you’ll want to buy the 2-CD set for the holidays as well.

It’s not all Handel and Monteverdi, of course. I loved a collection called The Earth Resounds featuring earlier music from three composers who started in Flanders: Orlande de Lassus (c. 1532-1594), Josquin Desprez (c.1452-1521) and Antoine Brumel (c.1460-1512 or so). Brumel worked as a church musician who wrote, notably, The Earthquake Mass, a truly moving experience in every sense. It’s difficult for me to imagine listening to music that was composed around the time of Christopher Columbus–and thoroughly enjoying the works as fresh, warm and winning here in the 21st century.

You’ll get a similar set of time and place by watching this video of Henry Purcell’s “Welcome Songs”–but the time is the latter half of the 1600s and the place is England. Once again, the video is tied into CDs, several that you’ll find on the CORO website.

The Deer’s Cry is a good starting place to experience sacred choral music, past and present. Begin with the short video on YouTube, then graduate to the hour-plus CD with its centerpiece, Miserere nostri by William Byrd (1540-1623) with help from another well-known composer whose work remains popular, Thomas Tallis (c. 1505-1585), known today for Spem in alium, a choral work you’ll find by several artists in record stores and on YouTube. The title of the CD comes from a work by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt (born 1935). It is stunning.

Screen Shot 2019-11-21 at 8.14.19 PM.pngSpem in alium is the final entry in a concert on YouTube that also features two other Tallis works, as well as compositions by Robert Carver and Robert Ramsey. The sound and performance are enormously affecting and well worth a good long, quiet listen. (The video  tallies 119,000 views–far more than most in this category.)

There are so many other CDs that I have already heard–and so many more than I wish to hear–but allow me to mention several other recommendations by contemporary composers: Stabat Mater by contemporary composer James MacMillan; a collection by Edmund Rubbra and another called Ikon of Light with works by John Tavener. In this video, Harry Christophers connects the dots between past and contemporary work.

To this awe-inspiring stack of listening for the holidays and well into 2020, I would add the variety of Eton Choirbook legacy CDs–there are several, and they celebrate the Eton College Chapel in England.

I have a great deal more listening to do–and reading, too. I have yet to listen to The Sixteen’s version of Messiah–more Handel operas (now that I’ve discovered how The Sixteen sings them, I want to hear them all), more from their choral pilgrimage series, and I’m sure I will discover even more delights (and I do mean to use that word in its most literal sense).

Along the way, I plan to read–and have in my hands–a good thick, well-researched book about Baroque Music by John Walter Hill, and the volume I should probably read first Screen Shot 2019-11-21 at 8.16.50 PM.pngRenaissance Music. So much music, so little time–but then, much of this music has been performed for half a millennium. Regardless of my pace, it will survive. Today, in the hands and hearts of Harry Christophers, and his peers including John Eliot Gardiner, and others, it may be fair to say that it thrives as never before. The secret: these magical musicians are more than that. They are teachers. And I am their most willing student.

Bring on the Immigrants!

“These days, a great many people in the rich countries complain loudly about migration from the poor ones. But as the immigrants see it, the game was rigged: First, the rich countries colonized us and stole our treasure and prevented us from building industries. After plundering us for centuries, they left, having drawn up maps in ways that ensured permanent strife between our communities. Then they brought us to their countries as “guest workers”–as if they knew what the word “guest” means in our cultures–but discouraged us from bringing our families. Having built up their economies with our raw materials and our labor, they asked us to go back, and were surprised when we did not. They stole our minerals and corrupted our governments so their corporations could continue stealing our resources, they fouled the air above us and the waters around us, making our farms barren, our oceans lifeless; and they were aghast when the poorest among us arrived at their borders, not to steal, but to work, to clean their sh*t and f*ck their men.”

Suketa Mehta is angry. He has every right to be angry. You and I should be angry, too. He’s angry because we are upside-down and ignorant about immigration. That’s why he wrote a manifesto–in the form of a book appropriately entitled This Land Is Our Land: An Immigrant’s Manifesto. His choice of words is narrow: this is a manifesto for all people who live in the U.S. because more than 99% of us are, in fact, immigrants. The remaining 1% are survivors. The paragraph that begins this article also begins his book.

Mehta is a very a good writer, especially when he’s angry. He’s a journalist and a professor, a smart guy who makes very powerful arguments in favor of knowing far more than we know today. He is angry about the hypocrisy, and it’s bracing to see all of this material in print–from a major publishing house. And it is hopeful. Metha makes it clear that we can and must do better, in part because the 21st century demands a higher level of global interaction, in part because “never before has there been so much human movement…and so much organized resistance to human movement.”

This is a book about the whole world–not the United States, not just Europe. It’s filled with stories about people whose lives are in London, Abu Dhabi, Tangier, Bhopal, Palestine, Korea, Rotterdam, Manhattan, Canada, Denmark. Migration, emigration and immigration–each a variation of the other two–is and has always been a global adventure.

The history is difficult because it’s told in all candor. Winston Churchill, for example, “loathed Nazis and Indians, and tried to kill as many of both as possible.” He advocated the use of chemical weapons against Iraqis, who rebelled against the British Empire. Taken as the ideas of a influential individual, they are upsetting. Taken as part of a larger story, they provide vital insights: “in all, 40 percent of all of the national borders in the entire world today were made by just two countries: Britain and France.” Look at a map of Africa, and you can easily see how thoroughly the many straight lines destroyed local tribes and cultures–hundreds of tribes caught in a cycle of violence as they attempted to reinstate families that, inexplicably, were now in different countries. The mess that now defines the Middle East is largely the result of borders and boundaries determined by a British fellow who never once visited the region.

“The Treaty of Peace, Friendship, Limits and Settlement” shifted ownership (the term is “cession” as one nation “cedes” territory to another. It was signed in 1848. In March 2017, a Mexican politician attempted to nullify that agreement and require the United States to pay for its use of the territory that was once about half of Mexico’s entire country–and is now most of California, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and Utah, and parts of four other states. At first, this seems like a wild idea, but it’s just one of many examples of nations taking over parts of other nations as if it was their right to do so. Now, the time is right to start thinking more seriously about whether the items in the British Museum, gathered from hundreds of years of empire, ought to be returned to their native countries. And if we follow that line of reasoning, whether people born in those regions ought to go home, too. Or be allowed to stay. None of this is absolute. It’s been in motion for a very long time.

Mehta grew up in New York City. In Queens, where there are more people from more ethnic backgrounds than any other place on earth. “It’s astonishing how little ethnic strife there is in New York. It’s astonishing how safe New York has become, while encountering some of the biggest waves of immigration in its history. It’s astonishing how free the immigrants are to follow their own culture, language, religion. It’s astonishing how rich immigrants have made New York. If there’s a poster city for demonstrating immigration works, New York is it.”

The author blasts through ugly arguments about how immigrants take jobs away, how they are more likely to participate in crimes, how they destroy culture. Unlike most people who talk or write about any of this, he has done the homework. We are so upside down on this information, his reliable sources are nearly impossible to believe. From Criminology, “Increases in the undocumented immigrant population within states are associated with significant decreases in the prevalence of violence.” Also, “As for jobs, 86 percent of first generation immigrant males participate in the labor force, which is a higher rate than the native born…immigrant men with the lowest levels of education are more likely to be employed than comparable native-born men, indicating that immigrants appear to be filling low-skilled jobs that native-born Americans are not available or willing to take.”

Schenectady, New York is a city near the state’s capital, Albany. It is one of many cities in upstate New York that have been forgotten by the vibrant U.S. economy. That’s why the mayor personally travels to the Queens neighborhood of Richmond Hill, to recruit people from Guyana so they will move to his city where “they’re refurbished abandoned and burnt-out homes with little to no government assistance, rehabilited them with sweat equity, with neat brick-and-metal fences around them.” A far better idea than demolishing those homes (cost: $16,500 per home), the policy to sell the home instead (cost to new homeowner: $1). This is why 12 percent of Schenectady’s population is now Guyanese. The model has gained considerable acclaim, so it is being replicated in other cities: a quarter of nearby Utica, New York is immigrants, including 7,000 refugees from Bosnia.

If you’re sensing a much larger story than you’re hearing from politicians, reading in the newspapers, seeing on the TV news, or learning in school, you’ve got that right. This is a spectacular story–inclusive of its highly appropriate anger–that every immigrant, potential immigrant, long-ago immigrant, policy advisor, school adminstrator, journalist and pundit ought to study, and research in even greater detail.

In short, immigration is not the problem. It is the solution. (No spoiler alert needed here: to find out why immigration is the solution, you’ll need to read the book.)

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