Ken Heckler

Yesterday I began an account of my Saturday in Huntington from a few weeks ago.

By the time I left off, I had spent a couple of hours in the Library and had drifted into musings about young couples and vampires.

Perhaps the more thoughtful among you noticed that the noon hour had passed without me reporting the slightest hint of hunger or taking time for a nosh.

— And what actually happened?

I forgot to eat and by the time I felt my stomach rumble a bit it was already early afternoon. Might as well wait for dinner….

So I focused on my maps and telephone books and the next thing I noticed was a not particularly loud loudspeaker announcement that “Former congressman Ken Heckler will deliver a lecture….”

Dr. Heckler was running for the Senate to replace Robert Byrd, who had died at age 92 after 50 years as one of West Virginia’s Senators. Senator Byrd had managed to travel the long path beginning as a member of the Ku Klux Klan in the 1940s and filibustering against the Civil Rights Act in 1964 and yet somehow by 2001 he had rejected his previous views. Of course he also voted against Clarence Thomas for the Supreme Court…, but I can imagine all sorts of not-racist reasons for that decision…, believing that Anita Hill told the truth being one…. And, anyway, Byrd played bluegrass fiddle, so he couldn’t be all bad…. Right?

I wandered up to the 3rd floor where I found Dr. H (PhD from Columbia University in History and Government) hosting perhaps a dozen listeners. I slipped into a seat and listened as he discussed his primary topic - the one he based his campaign upon - the removal of mountain tops to pull out coal and other minerals. His point is simple. You can’t reclaim such an insanely radical operation. As he says, (I’m paraphrasing…) ‘Once you have the ground saturated with acid, reclamation becomes impossible.’ And you get acid run off from ALL mountain top removal operations. So reclamation is a fantasy….

Since I now live in Ohio I can’t vote in West Virginia. Although when I was a lad, the motto in WV was, ‘Vote Early. Vote Often.’ And both parties enjoyed a strategy by which they voted the graveyards, an actual procedure that swayed more than one election. More sophisticated techniques included driving potential voters to a polling place and accompanying them into the booth to ‘assist’ in filling out the ballet. Afterwards, the voter would either received a pint of some liquid refreshment for his/ her efforts or move on to the next polling place and vote again. It all depended upon the contract previously arranged between the contractees.

But as I say, things have changed. There are fewer dead people still on the polls and voting more than once is frowned upon in most areas of the state. Had I tried to vote I might even have been challenged, although I suppose I might have given my address from 35 years ago - might have worked….

Anyway, I listened with awe to Dr. H’s speech and went up after to introduce myself.

Some 45 years ago I had participated in one of the good Docs Week in Washington programs, although in typical fashion I had managed not to win the essay contest and rather than an actual week I received a Day in Washington (which included a fascinating train ride from Huntington to Washington).

Toward the end of the day, irritable and tired, I was ‘rude’ to Strom Thurmond asking him about racial relations in his state (South Carolina) and making noises indicative of disbelief when he told me there were no problems. Of course, in this one case I was right and Strom was wrong… but I still should not have been rude…. I hoped Ken had not received any difficulties back from my misdemeanor. He said it hadn’t.

I really wanted to talk to Ken (I guess I’m a fan boy…) and somehow the conversation looped to history and Ken told me that during his ramblings over West Virginia during this campaign for the Senate he had met the last surviving American who had served in WWI, one Frank Buckles, now living over in Charles Town, WV in the Eastern edge of the state. Not knowing how to respond (a not untypical thing for me) but not wanting to show my ignorance I muttered something about the longevity of Civil War vets vs WWI vets and made the mistake to suggest Civil War vets had survived longer than WWI vets.

Without any rancor, Ken corrected me, explaining that the last confirmed Civil War vet had died in 1956 at about 108 or so, more or less the same age as Frank B (he’s 109 now). The point being that maximum longevity didn’t seem to have changed over the past 150 years or so.

Ken added that he figures he should manage one, maybe two, terms in the Senate before he has to retire.

(Regrettably, in the 28 August 2010 special election, the democratic party of West Virginia decided they wanted the present governor to run for the Senate in November ‘10 rather than Ken. However, some 17.3% voted for Dr. Heckler. Not bad for a guy who would be 96 by the time they swore him in….)

Afte Doc H finally peeled myself away from me (he had to return to the capital for an evening campaign activity), I returned refreshed to my cubby hole where I transferred from my telephone books to newspaper archives.

Interesting how little news one actually found in newspapers back then…. But actually the ads and prices grabbed my interest more than facts - except for a few curious events including a murder outside of Ann Arbor, Michigan which may (or may not) have been a serial killing. I scanned quite a few papers, but had to leave of with the police looking for ‘a young man on a motorcycle.’ Friends reported last seeing the deceased young woman boarding the young man's bike and the couple zipping off.

And then at 5 the library closed without me finding out the conclusion of the story. Luckily I don’t have to know the ending. I know enough to use the outline in my next NaNoWriMo story - although it is a bit grimmer than I like….

Jim FitzPatrick, 2010 01-29

After the renuion

I returned to my home town a couple of weeks ago for my High School reunion. I’ve written about how I might quell my anxiety - and I suppose it worked since I enjoyed the evening I spent with this group of strangers I had (more or less) known all those years ago.

The next day I spent in Huntington's old downtown. I parked on 9th Street between 5th & 6th Avenues, now a row of empty store fronts. There was a bar that might have been open, but I could not be sure given the blacked out windows.

As I dropped a quarter into the parking meter I could see the old Pritchard hotel looming against the partly clouded sky. The day was becoming hot and the morning clouds began to dissipate. As I positioned myself for a picture, I noticed way up to the 9th floor where a cluster of boarded up windows - one still with an air conditioner in the window - gave the place a desolate look.

— I must admit that at that moment I remembered the movie, Let the Right One In, and gave myself a shiver wondering who or what lived behind those darkened windows….

I spent the next hour or so wandering a few city blocks comparing the pictures in my head (from the late 1960s) to the present reality before ending up at the Court House. After taking a couple of pictures (real ones with a camera and film), I went up to the door where a little sign declared the place closed on the weekends. I peered inside and to my surprise a face loomed before me waving me to enter.

So I went in and through the security screening. I managed to make the buzzer buzz, but the guard just said, “It just your shoes. Been happening all day. Go on and vote.”

Vote? On Saturday?

It seems 'they' (The Powers That Be) had opened the Court House for early voting (as part of the process to determine who would replace the late Senator Robert Byrd).

The security guys turned out to be Marshals of the Court, not Rent-A-Cops nor even City Police. I'm sure these differences are important....

One of them turned out to have graduated from HS the same year as had I - only from Huntington East High, rather than Huntington High - nice guy despite that….

So, over the course of the next half hour or so we swapped stories - or rather they told me stories. There was one about the Huntington tradition of running disreputables out of town… but, no, I’m probably going to use it for NaNoWriMo this year (and I’m still considering that boarded window in the Pritchard hotel…), so you will have to wait.

I left after they ran the strange fellow out of the rose garden (he was picking - or perhaps just trimming? - the roses)…

“Oh, him,” one of the Marshals said, distaste grumbling his voice. “That guy's a weird duck. We see him all the time. A child molester….”

… just as the pizza arrived…

... and I spent the afternoon in the library.

In my red journal I have pages of addresses (and phone numbers…) that I gathered from the 1968 Telephone Book (which came out new each November…). Anderson-Newcomb, Nick’s News (& Card Shop), Star Book Store, Tradewell Super Markets (5 throughout the city), Bailey’s Cafeteria (410-9th Street), Long’s Parkette (across from Marshall U on 5th Avenue), the Bazaar, WT Grant, New China Restaurant, UpTowner Inn (with the Hawaiian Luau each weekend), White Panty (beside Nick’s, across from the old Public Library), the Milner Hotel (with not exactly a good rep…), Cinema Theater (previously the Orpheum), the Keith-Albee, the Palace, the Princess Shop (popular, I believe, with the Marshall co-ed), Vapo Baths & Massages (hmm…), Ward’s Doughnuts, George H. Wright (whose namesake died crashing his Corvette on Rt. 60E), VW of Huntington (on 4th Avenue - hard to believe how many car dealers were in-town back then…), Hez Ward Buick, Egnor’s Barbershop (owned by brothers of Dagmar…), Davidson’s Record Shop….

The list goes on.

Most of these places have long since disappeared. George H. Wright’s men’s shop still exists, as do all three movie theaters, although the Keith-Albee seems to only host special concerts and events (it’s now an historic site, I believe), but the rest… all memories - well, OK, I have no memory of the Vapo Baths…, but Ward’s Doughnuts…? You betcha….

I also spent a good time while in the Library peering at maps from before the last decade (or so) of urban renewal (or whatever they call it now…) trying to visualize the layering of the city from some 40 years ago.

16th Street/ Hal Greer Boulevard is unrecognizable - I will have more to say about THAT later - except for that row of low income housing TPTB somehow allowed to survive. As I drove up and down that main drive (my motel was down that-away) I realized I couldn’t visualize how I used to loop around the area on my bicycle….

No, that’s not quite right. I could visualize it, but I couldn’t find it.

Back in the day (c 1969 or so), 16th Street/ Hal Greer butted up against Rte 10. The minute I passed the boundaries of the city, the road would narrow and, amid the rural greenery, become the wandering way to Logan, WV. And just before its southern terminus 16th Street branched left and east into a series of twisting residential streets which led, incidentally, up to the small, almost European, plaza (or should I say, piazza) with a tiny movie theatre that (back then) was the city’s only hope to see an art film…. I also remember the 5 or 6 cornered intersection with a European pharmacy that, in my memory, had a clean European feel.

As a kid, I loved the odd times we would drive past that area. I have no idea why…. Later, I might bike up there, still a kid, but now more or less post pubescent, usually just poking around and more or less by mistake I would surprise myself. Then I would stop and walk around the place. I’m sure something will happen in that area in my next book…. Probably nothing mysterious, maybe just a couple walking arm in arm along the street - when suddenly a piece of space debris crashes into the steeple of the corner church… or a vampire [one of those guys from that room in the Pritchard hotel!] comes gliding from the darkness to the shadowy pavement.

Or maybe not….

Jim FitzPatrick, 2010 08-28

Active vs passive

Yesterday I discussed the Passive Voice and even defined it… kinda.

“A passive construction occurs when you make the object of an action into the subject of a sentence. That is, whoever or whatever is performing the action is not the grammatical subject of the sentence.”

Which is about as clear as mud, to quote my Nana.

But our friends from Chapel Hill, North Carolina (from whom I stole this definition) didn’t stop there. They actually gave an example:

“Why was the road crossed by the chicken?”

A logical question perhaps, yet expressed in the passive voice. And we know it’s PV because it’s the chicken who did the work - who crossed the road. And yet the road is the subject of the sentence.

OK, so now we have something to work with. A passive construction MUST have that ‘to be’ verb as I was told a while back, but it must also have a past participle.

And a past participle is pretty much any verb that ends in ‘-ed’ (or equivalent = ‘paid’ is the example UNC uses).

So in the example from a few sentences above we have the ‘to be’ verb ‘was’ followed (eventually) by the past participle ‘crossed’ which equals the dreaded Passive Voice.

But UNC goes on to point out a few other things.

First, using the Passive Voice is NOT a grammatical error. It just tends to reduce the clarity and ‘power’ of your writing.

Second, using a ‘to be’ verb does NOT automatically create the Passive Voice.

And third, sometimes the passive voice is OK.

They (the folks at UNC) go on to give examples and further details and if you are interested here is their website:

http://www.unc.edu/depts/wcweb/handouts/passivevoice.html

They go on for a good bit pondering how to change the PV to the AV and when it might be OK to use the PV and even give you a list of further reading if you’re really interested, a list that includes the ubiquitous book by Strunk and White (of course) and a book with the intriguing title of Politics and the English Language by George Orwell.

Well, enough of that….

Jim FitzPatrick 2010 08-27

How to write stuff

First find a sheet of paper and a pencil. Then sharpen the pencil. Place the pencil on the paper and move the arm onto which the pencil is affixed.

Or do you know all that?

OK, but do you know the rudiments of grammar?

Years ago I heard that ‘you can’t break the rules if you don’t know them.’ Ridiculous. A person is a hundred times more likely to break a rule she doesn’t know. But then, I suppose that’s not what the quote means. Yet both concepts apply - if you don’t know a bit of grammar you’ll write dreadfully because you really don’t know when/ if you’re getting it right. And you sure won’t be able to play around with your words if you don’t know the fundamentals of putting them together.

But let me tell you a story. It’s not a pretty story….

After surviving 7th Grade in the purgatory known as Oley Junior High (in Huntington, WV) - a place so predatory that when it was mercifully torn down a bit later it remained an empty parking lot for decades - I suspect because ‘they’ couldn’t find a Medicine Man with enough Mojo to clear the nastiness of the place. Did I mention I did not enjoy my year at Oley?

Then next year, I began a sojourn at Cammack Junior High and ran afoul of Catherine Venerables! - whose name, I believe, is legend - at least among the students who survived a year in her English class.

Or maybe it was just me. I can’t really be sure….

At the start of that school year I was still 13 (a bit younger than most of my peers), small, skinny and in a tizz starting my 2nd new school in two years. For reasons that make no sense to me TPTB (The Powers That Be) decided to place me in the toughest, most demanding English class (and Math class, but that’s another story!). Given that my 7th Grade English teacher spent most of the year chasing unruly kids (usually the boys) around the room with her wooden paddle flailing the air I can only imagine that in relation to most of the students I must have looked akin to a whiz kid (I could read and that put me a couple notches above most of my peers).

Now I don’t mean that some Oley JHS grads didn’t managed to learn something - I met a few who had brains - but that the sheer nuttiness of the place made it difficult to learn. In theory a bright kid can thrive and learn in a gutter, BUT it’s hard to reach your potential while floundering in the muck….

Anyway, Catharine started us with outlining sentences.

But I didn’t know the difference between a subject and a predicate. I had never even heard the words or if I had no one had ever hinted at what they might mean. And then there were nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, participles and something called the Passive Voice. I managed to comprehend that nouns and verbs did different things and that adjectives and adverbs ‘modified’ other words although I was a little vague as to the differences between the two. Plus I read at a glacial pace (still do, for that matter).

If my memory is correct, I survived the first quarter with a C and went down from there. By Christmas, I had floundered so that even being generous Catharine could only give me a D-. I suppose any sane teacher would have sent me packing to another class, but Catharine was nothing but persistent. Plus, she had gone to school with my mother and after a series of (increasingly desperate) meetings a Secret Solution was proposed.

Since I had not managed to ‘get’ Algebra my father had arranged for me to be tutored by one of his co-workers, an engineer who guided me through the math maze until I ‘got’ it - an event that literally happened between one session and another - but that’s another story. Somehow (and for reasons I don’t fathom even now) Catharine agreed to tutor me…. So once a week I received a guided lesson that tried to move me through the labyrinth of the English language. In class - no mercy…. Tutoring - persistent guidance and gentle drilling. And she did this at risk since the Board of Education looked askance upon teachers who helped their students outside of class…. But, if anything, she treated me with greater rigor in class!

I finished the year with a C (or maybe a C-) and the next year TPTB relegated me to a Bonehead English class located in the basement of the school where most of my fellow students spent their time pitching paper wads into the light fixtures - by the end of the school year the place seemed as dark as a dungeon. But even so the teacher managed to terrify the students enough to maintain order and actually tried to teach - a good change from Oley, if not exactly up to C. Venerables expectations.

By my Senior year of HS (3 years later) I had moved slowly up the ladder to a notch below the top - up with SOxley (one of a pair of sisters, FOxley who taught History and SOxley, English - both good people… I learned from each).

But I still didn’t manage Passive Voice.

College helped a bit.

But I would still get papers back with ‘Use Active Voice’ scrawled in red. Which made no particular sense given that no one could explain to me what ‘Active Voice’ was, especially in relation to ‘Passive Voice.’

The years passed….

When I was about 40 (or perhaps 50) some One - who? I wonder - said, “Passive Voice? That’s just using the ‘to be’ verb all the time.”

Oh….

So… it is when I use ‘is’ or ‘was’ or ‘were’ or ‘had been’ (although ‘had Ben?’ could be just fine - ya gotta love English…) - is that it?

Hmm… no…. There’s a bit more to it than that.

Here’s the definition of Passive Voice from the University of North Carolina (the first place I found on the internet…): “A passive construction occurs when you make the object of an action into the subject of a sentence. That is, whoever or whatever is performing the action is not the grammatical subject of the sentence.”

So now we know…. But….

Jim FitzPatrick 2010 08-26

Some thoughts on reading

There are only so many hours in a day and even retired I do not have enough time for everything I would like. And now we have so many alternatives - call them distractions. The internet itself - the home of this blog - is a major distraction with it’s near infinite variety of ‘things’ to peer at and ponder.

And then there’s the near constant flow of cable television, now pumped in a stream through the internet. Movies on demand through cable and Netflix. No wonder people don’t read any more.

Or do they…? I have no statistics, but even with the distractions I seem to complete more books now in a year than I ever managed in the past.

Well, sure, I AM retired and that makes a difference, but not as much as you might think.

No, I believe it’s in the ear.

Let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time when cassettes began to replace 8 track and even reel-to-reel as the recording medium of choice, ‘somebody’ decided she could make a buck (or two) producing books which people could listen rather than read. People did this for years using records (big black discs played non-digitally using a special needle and a curious non-digital amplification process that I never really understood). But access to these had limited itself to the visually impaired - folks who for one reason or another could not read.

But beginning with the ‘Cassette Age’ people who could see more or less well began to enjoy having someone read a favorite book aloud. I discovered Nostromo by Joseph Conrad (and read by the brilliant Frank Muller) and realized for the first time how brilliant and accessible this book is. And I realized how important to find a good reader….

Let me tell you about Frank Muller. For years a favorite reader of mine, I heard he had a motorcycle accident with debilitating brain damage and that he could no longer read professionally. I kept checking to see how he did, always hoping for his return to the public sector, but alas, he died a few years ago, finally released from his damaged body…. He will be missed by all who knew him, even those of us who only met him through his wonderful voice….

The Digital Age began and let us make the starting date 1984 with the advent of the first Apple Macintosh (not that I’m biased or anything…). And with that came the CD. But for many people CDs never had as much appeal for recorded books as did cassettes, since most players could never remember where the CD left off. A cassette only required that the listener remember which side to put into the player (and which cassette to play…). But both CDs and cassettes seemed too expensive for the average listener. Luckily libraries began to catch onto the technology and at that time seemed well enough funded to keep a nice stock.

Today libraries have entire rooms devoted to CD and cassette versions of books. Yet how long before libraries cease to exist? But let me not digress further….

The next and (to date) the most important step was MP3 technology. This created the digital equivalent of the tape cassette. And for about $100 I can own a recording device that rivals studio quality machines from 30 or 40 years ago! I can, if I want, record my own book, make a series of MP3s and release it through my website. It’s just unfortunate that my voice isn’t quite as luxurious as that of Frank Muller…, but the fact that I can do it is amazing!

And here’s the thing: with my MP3 player I can listen to a book at any time. I can drive with Charles de Lint’s The Onion Girl helping me along. I can walk or bike with Jane Austen or Tolkien. I don’t have to hole up in a corner with a book unless I want to (and sometimes that’s exactly what I want!).

And now eBooks have arrived…, but I'm not sure…. I like paper. I like the bulk and substantiality of hard copy…. And is there a real value to carrying a library in my pocket? How many books can I read at one time? (2 or 3 seems the limit - 1 on my MP3 and 1 by the bed [perhaps a 3rd as a carry along in my tote]). But perhaps an ebook collection means I can go to some obscure place and have my reference library with me…. For me the issue has yet to clarify.

As for what to read…. Well, the classics still work: Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Herman Melville (just skim the fishy stuff in Moby Dick and you’ll do fine), William Faulkner, John Steinbeck, Philip K. Dick, John dos Passos - or whomever you regard as a classic (not everyone will agree about Philip K. Dick or even John dos Passos).

And the moderns…. Well here we have a problem…. “Many are called, but few are chosen….”

I suspect Thomas Pynchon will remain, although if you’re in High School or younger, I suspect you should stay with The Crying of Lot 49. Try V after HS (or your Senior year of HS if you’ve the nerve) and tackle the others if you're still interested.

And, young people…, PLEASE, if you must read Stephanie Meyers, try to find a bit of Anne Rice and Dracula and, if you really want to get the vampire vibe, Camilla, by Sheridan Le Fanu (a truly strange person…). At the very least reading these will make your conversations about Steffi’s books more sensible….

Am I being too hard on Stephanie Meyer? Sorry - nothing personal…. Perhaps I can salvage myself by saying I liked the Harry Potter series (up to the very end, at least…)…. Although, now that I think of it, I might suggest that Harry Potter devotees consider reading Philip Pullman for a different (and MUCH more sophisticated) take on… well not magic, but life in general….

And then there’s Haruki Murakami. Awesome stuff…. It’s hard to say where to leap into his work…. Oh, just try After Dark. Good story, interesting characters and strange enough to make me wonder: WTF….

And then there’s Joanne Harris - Chocolat was her ‘movie’ novel, but all her ‘stuff’ is terrific. And Tracy Chevalier. The Girl with a Pearl Earring is her movie book, but, again, all her stuff is solid.

I mentioned Charles de Lint earlier. Not only does he write well (within a solid base of magic realism), but he has ‘soul’ (and, no, I don’t know exactly what that means, but it’s still true…).

And you might find John Crowley’s Little, Big worth your time.

And….

Well, enough…. As one can see, there’s no end to the list. But if you want to write, ya gots to read….

I’m just sayin….

Jim FitzPatrick 2010 08-25