Bears vs. Cardinals: The NFL’s Oldest Rivalry – Chicago History Museum – December 2, 2023

Had I known a few months ago that I would be attending this program, I wouldn’t have thrown out the autographed Charlie Trippi football I’d been saving for most of my life after having determined that it had no intrinsic value and was taking up valuable space that some equally worthless keepsake might be afforded.

I’m pretty sure I could have found a home for it with the speaker/author Joe Ziemba, who brought along some other memorabilia and made reference to the treasured boxes of related materials he had been gifted prior to writing this, his latest book.

Ziemba’s biography noted that, because of his knowledge of the early days of the professional game, he has been a resource for articles or reports in a number of well-known publications, including Sports Illustrated. In regard to that attribution, I can attest that it was, in fact, a real person standing before me, and not the avatar of a computer in the back room.

Ziemba covered the time frame from slightly before the 1920 founding of the NFL through 1959, after which the Cardinals started their westward trek that ultimately led to Arizona, a retirement exurb of Chicago.

The already obviously well-informed audience was treated to numerous interesting and humorous anecdotes, along with digs at Packer fans, player photographs and pictures of contracts and ledgers from the less-affluent days of the NFL, when players might make $75 a game and no one had ever heard of CTE.

Printers Row Lit Fest – September 10, 2023

Among other things, Jena Friedman has been a field producer at The Daily Show and written for Late Show with David Letterman. She was at the Fest promoting her book, Not Funny: Essays on Life, Comedy, Culture, Et Cetera.

She actually is funny, but the most interesting thing she had to say about her book was that you can find a couple publications on Amazon that appear to want to steal her thunder, including Jena Friedman: The Biography of Jena Friedman and Her Rule to Success, which was written by someone (something) named Justice Wall, who supposedly has written 107 biographies, all published in 2023, sold by Amazon Asia-Pacific Holdings Private Limited. According to Bloomberg.com, that company’s line of business includes providing computer programming services, which provides some insight into how it can be so prolific.

When it was suggested to Friedman that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, she countered that, in fact, payment is the sincerest form of flattery, and so the writers are on strike over, among other things, the threat posed by artificial intelligence.

From a discussion of AI’s potential for taking bread from writers’ mouths, I went to a program on Taking a Bite Out of the Heartland, with Monica Eng and David Hammond, (Made in Chicago: Stories Behind 30 Great Hometown Bites) and Big Jones Chef Paul Fehribach (Midwestern Food: A Chef’s Guide to the Surprising History of a Great American Cuisine, with More than 100 Tasty Recipes).

They discussed pizza, ribs, and tamales, but most importantly, when questioned about hot dogs, the chef voted for Super Dawg (also my pick).

On my way out I paid my annual visit to the popular Vintage Graphic Art vendor and did a 10-second sound bite for this week’s Get Lit Podcast, my first radio appearance in years.

Coming Attractions (or not) – September, 2023

I was berated today for not telling people about events before they happen. So, for all of you out there who haven’t yet learned how to use your computer, and since I have a little time to kill, here are some ideas for things to do in September.

First, and foremost, and before you tire of my sarcasm, you must go to the Porchlight Music Theatre’s Icons Gala on the 8th at the Athenaeum Center. It will, as always, be a very entertaining evening and, if you buy one of the top-tier tickets, you get to mingle with me at the pre-show cocktail reception. Also, the guest of honor, Ben Vereen, will be in attendance.

As I alluded to in an earlier post, the Chicago Jazz Festival comes to town the first few days of the month. You’re on your own as to which acts might interest you. I stopped going years ago, as I tired of the modern, atonal nonsense they inappropriately call music, but there are a few acts on the calendar this year that I either have seen before and liked or am confident enough about to risk a trek down to Millennium Park or the Cultural Center for a look-see.

The Fourth Presbyterian Church takes its Noonday Concerts indoors starting this Friday, which seems premature to me, but allows them to put to use their big honking organ, though, fortunately for my tastes, not until the end of the month, so, again, why not keep things outdoors until then.

The Harris Theater for Music and Dance is celebrating its 20th Anniversary (seems like 40 years taking into account having to traverse all those stairs) on the 9th in Millennium Park. The unprecise schedule makes it hard to know when I might want to drop in, though the likelihood of families attending the afternoon sessions is fair warning to avoid those.

The Printers Row Lit Fest is that same weekend (both days). It always presents a plethora of interesting exhibitors and programs, if you can find them in the event’s labyrinth (watch out for the Minotaur).

And, not finally, but I’m tired, the American Writers Museum is hosting Get Lit: Grown-Up Book Fair on the 12th, which will feature refreshments, carnival games, and an Adult Spelling Bee, which, I assume, means either dirty words and/or easier ones than the obnoxiously well-prepared kids at the real one have to tackle.

Get (Green) Lit: Mini Golf, Big Vibes – American Writers Museum – April 11, 2023

Though I recently decided to give up golf for all of eternity and beyond, and, accordingly, donated my clubs to a charity supporting the children of incarcerated white-collar criminals, an oft-overlooked, downtrodden minority, I decided, after consultation with, and advice from, numerous anonymous philosophers who are committed to agreeing with whatever I say, that it would not be in conflict with my commitment to golf celibacy if I engaged in miniature golf, an offshoot of the sacred Scottish pastime that emerged in the early 20th century and that still flourishes today, governed internationally by the World Minigolf Sport Federation (WMF).

So it was that my first time at one of the American Writers Museum’s new Get Lit series events was to tee it up with a large, joyous crowd of fellow competitors amidst the AWM exhibits and try my hand at bouncing the ball off walls, typewriters, books, and crumbled first drafts strewn on the floor around the premises while toting a drink that provided the double meaning to Get Lit and proof that bibliophiles can have as much fun as real people, and, presumably, more than even the most advanced artificial neural network (remember Lieutenant Commander Data’s travails regarding the emotion chip on Star Trek: The Next Generation).

I shot one under par for the nine-hole course, but, alas, ran out of time to meet the evening’s guest, Tom Coyne, who has written several books about golf, including one regarding his attempt to qualify for the PGA tour, though, perhaps, I would be better served by meeting Craig Bass, author of How to Quit Golf: A 12-Step Program.

Bob Odenkirk with Tim Meadows – Chicago Humanities Festival – Music Box Theatre – March 2, 2022

Meadows interviewed Odenkirk in association with the latter’s release of a new book – Comedy Comedy Comedy Drama: A Memoir by Bob Odenkirk.

I love Better Call Saul, so I’m not anti Odenkirk. But . . . .

Odenkirk drops a lot of F-bombs. I’m not impressed.

Odenkirk thinks Sullivan’s Travels isn’t a very good movie. Not only is he wrong about that, but he also should know that it’s a much better movie than his new movie, Nobody, which nobody should bother seeing, except to enjoy Christopher Lloyd.

There were some high points to the program. Tim Meadows was very engaging. Giving several audience members stupid questions to ask Odenkirk worked. And Odenkirk’s closing by reading a “poem” about ice cream from his book put everyone in a good mood as they departed, and made me think about stopping at the Dairy Queen on the corner before heading for the car.

The ticket to the program included a copy of the book, which I’ll read, knowing that he has had an interesting journey and confident in the assumption that a good editor will have made it a better read than one might otherwise expect listening to Odenkirk’s articulation, or lack thereof, on stage.

Scott Turow – Printers Row Lit Fest – September 12, 2021

I once played golf with Scott Turow. He’s a better writer. He’s also an articulate speaker, so it was a shame that only 10 percent of the 345 seats in the tent were filled to see him. (I know – half a person.)

He was at the Lit Fest pushing his most recent book, The Last Trial. The plot is about a trial.

But, he noted, when asked, that plot is character, though he forgot to attribute that statement to F. Scott Fitzgerald.

He praised Saul Bellow for his characters, but characterized the plot of every one of Bellow’s novels as “a guy wanders around and thinks.” Sounds like my last 18 months.

After the talk I stopped by my favorite Lit Fest spot, the vintage graphic art posters and magazine covers (more crowded than the Turow program), and studied the Orgy of the Living Dead movie poster.

Then I debated waiting around to hear Jeffrey Brown discuss his book, A Total Waste of Space-Time, which sounded like it was right up my alley, until I discovered that it was targeted toward pre-teens. What a waste. Still . . . .

The Theory of Nothing

Just because the world has ground to a halt doesn’t mean that I should stop writing, or does it? Have I misinterpreted the signs? Anyway, to help us all pass the time, here are some notes about some of the things I’m not doing.

Speaking of signs, and the stealing thereof, I’m not watching baseball games. I wouldn’t anyway, but my class on the Literature of Baseball at Northwestern’s Osher Lifelong Learning Institute will be held online, instead of in person, which means I don’t get to indulge in the delicious home-made brownies that a member of the class, who is a baker, brings each week.

I’m not watching March Madness or running my pool, which is a shame because I concocted some bizarre rules this year in the hope that no one else would understand them. In that vein, in the absence of games, I have declared myself the winner of the pool.

Despite having been the Wizard of Oz in Wicked on Broadway, Joel Grey apparently does not have the power to make everything right and so is not going to the 25th Anniversary Porchlight Music Theatre Icons Gala honoring him and neither is anyone else, including me, at least until it gets rescheduled.

I’m not going to the postponed Newberry Library Associates Night, where I was hoping to cop some free wine and cheese and then sneak out before the staff droned on about research that would have bored me to tears.

I’m not going to the American Writers Museum to listen to Gene Luen Yang talk about his new graphic novel Dragon Hoops, as he cancelled his in-person book tour, and instead, according to his website, is touring as a cartoon.

I’m not going to the Civic Orchestra of Chicago’s 100th Anniversary Concert, which was to feature Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5, which also was performed at the orchestra’s first-ever concert on March 29, 1920. I missed that one too.

Ben Hecht: Fighting Words, Moving Pictures – Adina Hoffman – Newberry Library – February 19, 2019

Though I’d like to compare this blog, somewhat conceptually, although certainly not artistically, to Ben Hecht’s 1001 Afternoons in Chicago (a book that interestingly contains only 65 of his newspaper columns), for me, the single most identifying thing about Hecht has always been his co-authorship, with Charles MacArthur, of the play The Front Page, and his co-authorship of the movie His Girl Friday, based upon that play.

Adina Hoffman, whose rapid-fire speech pattern at the program drew a page from the style of Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday (it has been said that gangsters learned how to talk from seeing gangster movies, such as Scarface, written by Hecht) painted a much broader picture of Hecht for the audience, most of which, as usual, I will ignore for my purposes.

But, for example, according to Hoffman, Joseph Goebbels, Adolf Hitler’s Minister of Propaganda, called the final scene of the Alfred Hitchcock movie Foreign Correspondent, uncredited screenplay by Ben Hecht, the greatest piece of propaganda ever written.

One thing to take from that is that Hecht not only wrote many classic Hollywood scripts, but also was the uncredited script doctor for many more, including, who knew, Gone with the Wind. According to Hoffman, film critic Pauline Kael called Hecht the greatest American screenwriter and famed director Jean-Luc Godard called Hecht a genius who invented 80% of what is used in Hollywood movies (at a time when movies were more than just a bunch of computer generated comic book stories).

On a less consequential, but, if you stretch it, coincidental note, Quentin Tarantino’s movie Inglourious Basterds includes Goebbels as a character, and MacArthur, Hecht’s frequent writing partner, was the target of a Dorothy Parker quip after her relationship with MacArthur resulted in her pregnancy, when she allegedly said “how like me, to put all my eggs into one bastard.”

 

Moby-Dick Read-a-Thon – Newberry Library – January 19-20, 2019

The closest I had ever come before to reading past the first three words of Moby-Dick was to see the Gregory Peck movie and the Star Trek movie First Contact, wherein Captain Picard is accused of being like Captain Ahab.

In case you were wondering, Moby-Dick, the novel, is 206,052 words long. It took over 150 of us a little over 24 hours, taking turns, to read the whole thing aloud. I was assigned the last 1158 words of Chapter 134.

In case you were further wondering, the Smithsonian tells us there appears to be absolutely no good reason why the title is hyphenated (the name of the whale is not hyphenated inside the book, except, mysteriously, in one place), it possibly being a typographical error or the result of a long-obsolete custom. Melville originally titled the book simply, The Whale, but then apparently changed it for marketing purposes, which didn’t really work as it had “tepid reviews and miserable initial sales.”

Nathaniel Philbrick, author of Why Read Moby-Dick and the introductory speaker leading into the read-a-thon (or as the lead staff person for the occasion called it, the Moby-Dickapalooza), advised us that, back in the day, “if you liked Moby-Dick you had literary cred”, that Faulkner said it was the one book by another author he wish he had written, and that Hemingway, in writing The Old Man and the Sea, admitted that he was trying to best Moby-Dick.

Along with the unwashed masses, such as myself, reading from the book, there were quite a few ringers – Sara Paretsky, for one, and Dave Catlin, who directed Moby-Dick at Lookingglass Theater, for another. I mention him because he introduced himself to me in the ready room after I impressed him by knowing my left from my right.

Upon conclusion of the event, it was determined that three people (plus the staff person in charge) had stayed for the whole thing (giving more meaning to the unwashed masses). Their presence throughout made moot my intellectual curiosity as to whether, like that tree in the forest, if no one had been there to listen to the readers in the middle of the night, they would have made a sound.

Tom Hanks – Uncommon Type – Chicago Humanities Festival – November 2, 2018

My guess is that a majority of the audience at the Harris Theater came not to hear about Hanks’ book, Uncommon Type, which includes, often very minimally, mention of a typewriter in each short story, but rather because Hanks is their type of guy.

He didn’t disappoint. When asked by interviewer Peter Sagal about all the real life people he’s played, many of them heroes, Hanks told of how, when meeting Chesley Sullenberger, James Lovell, and Richard Phillips, he said to each of them in regard to his portrayal: “I’m going to say things you didn’t say, go places you’ve never been, and do things you’ve never done – live with it.”

In particular, he recounted Sullenberger telling him that his instrument panel went dead before landing his plane on the Hudson River and Hanks replying that a blank panel wasn’t dramatic enough, so in the movie it would instead act “like this”, which Hanks then demonstrated by flailing his hands to simulate the needles out of control. Sagal suggested that using those hand gestures in the movie would have been a crowd pleaser, as it was to this audience.

After Hanks mentioned a new movie coming out, Greyhound, where he plays the captain of a ship in World War II, Sagal noted that Sullenberger, Lovell, Phillips and John Miller in Saving Private Ryan all were captains, and suggested that Hanks couldn’t seem to get a promotion. Hanks added that Greyhound would forever be known as the movie where he doesn’t play Mr. Rogers (given the great anticipation of the release of that movie).

Hanks then responded to several questions submitted by the audience prior to the program, the final one of which inexplicably asked Hanks what his favorite sandwich is. Hanks went into a long, amusing explanation of his dietary restrictions, though clearly the perfect answer to close the program would have been “a hero.”