Elsewhere

"The mechanism of human destiny – that intricate weave of chance and fate and free will, as distinctly individual as a fingerprint - is surely meant to remain life’s central mystery, to resist transparency, to make blame a dangerous and unsatisfactory exercise.” Richard Russo, “Elsewhere”

“Elsewhere” is a memoir about the relationship between favorite author Richard Russo and his mother, Jean, who sought to escape the upstate mill town of Gloversville and lived either with him or nearby her entire life.  By turns hilarious and sad, the book contains events and personality traits similar doings and characters found in Russo’s novels.  Taking away his mother’s huge pill supply while she was in the hospital, Russo felt “like the parent who’d disposed of the weed he discovered in the back of his kid’s closet.” After his mother dies and her ashes are scattered at sea, Russo belatedly realizes that she exhibited the symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder and that he was not so different from her as he once imagined.  Fortunately, Russo’s adult compulsion – fiction writing - enabled him to make a comfortable living.

Russo wrote that, unlike many university-trained novelists, he valued plot, paid attention to pacing, and had little tolerance for literary pretention. His literary references- to Kafkaesque nightmares, Jane Eyre’s madwoman in the attic, Jim Thompson’s crime fiction characters helpless in the grip of relentless forces, Melville’s Bartleby saying, “I prefer not to” – are easily grasped. And, finally, as per Thomas Wolfe’s acknowledgement, Russo realized that he couldn’t go home again, not even for Jean’s family memorial service.  He described his final sighting of the house on Helwig Street where he grew up:

    The hazardously sloping back porches, up and down, had been amputated, and nobody had even bothered to paint over the scars. The back door I was in and out of a hundred times a day as a boy now opened into thin air, a four-foot drop to a rectangle of hard brown earth that the house’s new owner couldn’t be bothered to seed.  After that, I no longer had the heart, or maybe the stomach, to bear witness, so strong was my sense of personal failure.

I enjoyed returning to my home town of Fort Washington every five years or so, when best friend Terry Jenkins and I would retrace neighborhood haunts. For many years our old homesteads were in decline.  In my case a German couple whom I expected would be model owners took more interest in building a second home in the Poconos.  Once, Terry talked them into letting us inside; the rooms seemed smaller and shabby, and I spotted a photo of some relative, surely, in a Nazi uniform.  On our last tour new owners had spruced up the lawn and garden, painted the side fence and garage, and left the magnolia and Japanese trees in their full splendor.  The Jenkins estate now had two houses on it, but we copped an invitation to come inside the 150-year-old original (at least as far as the first floor) and were impressed with the new décor with several doors removed and the screened-in porch now the main family room. Terry recalled that his old man had arranged for one screen door to face out and the other in so their collie, Taffy, could exit and enter at her pleasure.

Many former Gary residents share Russo’s reluctance to visit the neighborhoods of their youth, at some point having become determined to live elsewhere.  That was not the case with former Catholic priest and longtime Gary teacher John Sheehan, who nonetheless wrote a volume of poems titled “Elsewhere, Indiana” (1990).  The title poem goes:

Gary
a tenuous misshapen T

gerrymandered for planners

who live elsewhere

your streets torn up by heavy trucks

that make money for peopl

who live elsewhere

your “urban renewal”

twenty years old

only just begun

high-paid planners

mostly gone elsewhere

profits gone elsewhere

ain’t nobody here to say

enough money where their mouth is

how you can really be

a good place to live

for those who can’t very easily

go no elsewhere

         except maybe somewhere even worse

than this here where


like high-rise Chicago
one thing Gary
your kids growing up
if they can dodge bullets
that enrich profiteers
elsewhere
can look out their windows
and walk out their doors
to somewhere

Gary, Indiana
where
in spite of mammoth trucks
bisecting tri-state expressway
and abandoned buildings
they can see trees and squirrels and birds
and every manner of God-given beauty
in the trash-lined dunes and swamplands
 
but they can’t see the lake
unless they get out to Miller
and it’s hard to find the river too. 

Ray Smock responded: “Gary's story is the story of American exploitation and capitalist greed.  Far too many places in this country are just like Elsewhere, Indiana. The whole damn country is Elsewhere."

Muralist Felix “Flex” Maldonado described a labor of love in honor of the Region first responders that now exists in Gary’s Miller beach neighborhood:

    10 days.. 10 days of scorching sun, sweating so profusely it burned eyes while i painted, sweaty masks, ankle breaking rocks, rain storms disrupting my flow, mosquitos biting so bad i couldn’t stand it.... but i carried on because, knowing all this, i knew i would finish one day.... but not for these individuals who CHOOSE to struggle through worse conditions EVERYDAY.. This mural is a tribute to ALL first responders who put their lives on the line so we can try and live a little better life- my “heroes”, as I like to call them... i dedicate this one to you.

    Thank you Pat and Karen Lee, of Lee Companies for allowing me to bring this long awaited vision to life. you have made the community and this world a better place...

    if you see a first responder, tell em “FLEX” said “thank you”.. @ Miller Beach Indiana

Social Distancing

“Put simply, the idea of social distancing is to maintain a distance between you and other people — in this case, at least six feet. That also means minimizing contact with people. Avoid public transportation whenever possible, limit nonessential travel, work from home and skip social gatherings — and definitely do not go to crowded bars and sporting arenas.” New York Times

below, "Let the online teaching begin" Liz photo of Al

Coronavirus pandemic updates are totally dominating the news.  Hoarders are panic-buying items such as toilet paper while others, often Trump supporters, believe news reports to be a hoax or an anti-Trump conspiracy. Democratic frontrunners Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders debated on CNN without an audience, and the candidates did an elbow bump rather than shake hands.  Illinois is closing bars and restaurants for the foreseeable future (Indiana followed suit the following day) except for carry-out, yet at O’Hare Airport passengers returning from overseas had to stand in crowded lines for up to four hours in order to pass through customs. Students at every level from preschool to grad school will be working from home. Overseas programs, such as those Alissa directs at Grand Valley State, are in chaos.

In the past 24 hours Banta Center closed and Chesterton Y drastically limited services, so no duplicate bridge. I called off bowling, and teammate Frank Shufran’s knee surgery got cancelled at the last moment. According to a CBS anchor, Isaac Newton apparently invented calculus while working in isolation during the plague years of 1665-1666.  With Trinity College, Cambridge closed, Newton returned to his family estate and worked on his own so successfully that he later referred to that period as the annus mirabilus or “year of wonders.”

After watching Willie Geist discuss binge-watching a TV series on NBC Sunday Today, I checked out “Better Things” on FX, which New York magazine had praised.  Pamela Adlon portrays a single mother and sometime actress with three precocious daughters and an unbalanced mother who likes to swim naked uninvited in a neighbor’s pool.  I was disappointed that I couldn’t get the first couple episodes free On Demand and that commercials interrupted the action every few minutes but nonetheless watched the three available shows with growing interest.  With a husky voice and gravelly laugh, Adlon looked and sounded familiar; I learned that she had been a regular on “Californication.”  Season 3 of “Better Things” almost didn’t happen because  original co-star Louis C.K. was banished after multiple accusations of sexual misconduct.  

Sociologist Chuck Gallmeier studied social distancing, not as a way to prevent catching contagious diseases but as a means of avoiding unwanted interchanges in public places.  Examples are checking email messages while on elevators and closing your eyes seated on airplanes.  I need to consult with Chuck on latest developments, as Americans keep readjusting their lives.  Whereas government officials recommended avoiding crowds of over 100 and then 50, now the number is down to ten.  

In Richard Russo’s “Chances Are,” about three college buddies (Teddy, Lincoln, and Mickey) reuniting 45 years later on Martha’s Vineyard, squeamish Teddy faints dead away when a singer he recognizes as the daughter of a long-lost girlfriend joins Mickey’s band on stage and belts out the opening lines to “Nutbush City Limits.”  

A church house, gin house
A school house, outhouse
On highway number nineteen
The people keep the city clean
They call it Nutbush

Written in 1973 by Tina Turner about her hometown of Nutbush, Tennessee, so small it doesn’t appear on most state maps, at a time when she was suffering at the hands of an abusive husband, “Nutbush City Limits” has an ironic tone, as seen in these lyrics:

No whiskey for sale
You get caught, no bail
Salt pork and molasses
Is all you get in jail

  . . .

Quiet little old community, a one-horse town
You have to watch what you're puttin' down

Rock critic Rick Hasted wrote: “’Limits’ is the key word, as she artfully sketches a circumscribed life [in a place] more like somewhere to escape [from] than like a rural idyll.”      

Buddy Johnson orchestra

Riley “B.B.” King’s autobiography, “Blues All Around Us” describes growing up in a Mississippi Delta sharecropping family. His first vivid memory: braiding his mother Nora Ella’s hair after she had worked all day picking cotton.  From his great-grandmother, a former slave, he learned that blues songs unburdened the soul but also served as a survival mechanism, for example, warning that “massa” was near.  Attending a one-room schoolhouse, Riley had a bad stutter and was more interested in girls than learning.  Nonetheless, teacher Luther Henson impacted his life, convincing him that justice would ultimately prevail over evil.  Hanson’s nephew Purvis performed in Buddy Johnson’s nine-piece orchestra, evidence of the possibility of reaching brighter horizons.  In 1944 the Buddy Johnson Band had a number one rhythm and blues hit, “When My Man Comes Homes,” with Buddy’s sister Ella Johnson on vocals.

 

Toni and I saw B.B. King, who died five years ago at age 90, headline a “House Rockin’ Blues” show at Merrillville’s Star Plaza.  Also on the bill: Buddy Guy, Bobby “Blue” Bland, and Albert King.  At B.B. King’s Blues Club in Memphis with the Migoski’s on the thirtieth anniversary of Elvis Presley’s death, the performer on stage announced she wouldn’t be playing Elvis songs for tourists but made a reference to Elvis admiring the Blues that was not uncomplimentary.

High school classmate Phil Arnold called and asked if I were a history buff.  As a historian, I replied, I might be called that.  Rummaging through decades-old possessions, he unearthed a map showing Montgomery County, PA, during the period of the American Revolution, including places where General George Washington stayed.  I was familiar with Valley Forge, of course, my home town, Fort Washington, and Whitemarsh, where our Cub Scout Memorial Day parade would end, but not Camp Hill or other places he mentioned.  He’s planning on mailing it to me. As always, I asked Phil to say hello to Bev, unfailingly upbeat despite myriad health concerns.

Phil and Bev Arnold, 2009

According to university scuttlebutt making the rounds, a few longtime professors have never interacted with students via the internet and don’t intend to start, despite expectations that they do so during the current crisis. When I retired a decade ago, rudimentary methods of contacting students online were in place, and I had begun to post assignments and other important messages.  It’s hard to believe that a handful of old-timers are resisting the inevitable. Distance learning is certainly better than none at all.

Looks like no more guest appearances in history colleagues’ classes this semester.  In the fall, if all returns to normal, Nicole Anslover will offer a class on Women in Politics.  Unlike 1990s governors Ann Richards (Texas) and Christine Todd Whitman (NJ), most early women governors and members of Congress succeeded deceased husbands and only served out the remainder of their terms.  Two exceptions were Texan Miriam “Ma” Ferguson and Hattie Wyatt Caraway of Arkansas. Ferguson’s husband had been impeached while governor and barred from holding future public office, so “Ma” ran in his place, winning a two-year term in 1924 and again in 1932.  Making no secret that she would lean on her husband for advice, Ferguson used this campaign slogan: “Me for Ma, and I Ain’t Got a Durned Thing Against Pa.”

Hattie Caraway took over husband Thaddeus’’s Senate seat in 1931 and the following year threw her hat into the ring, proclaiming, “The time has passed when a woman should be placed in a position and kept these only while someone is groomed for the job.” Senator Huey Long of neighboring Louisiana campaigned for her, and she became the first woman U.S. Senator to serve a full term.  In 1938 Hattie got re-elected after surviving a primary challenge from Representative John McClellan, whose slogan was, “Arkansas Needs Another Man in the Senate.”  Caraway lost a bid for a third term against Congressman J. William Fulbright, a former Razorback star football player and Rhodes scholar.

Embrace the Mess

“The messiness of experience, that may be what we mean by life.” Daniel J. Boorstin

Joe Madden and Don Ritchie; "c'est du vent" means "it's all hot air"

“Embrace the mess”sounds like a gimmicky motto thought up by Chicago Cubs manager Joe Madden, whose motivational sayings include “Try not to suck”and “Do simple better.” Two articles on pedagogy in the current Oral History Review (OHR)are titled “Embracing the Mess,” one about “Conflict Studies Classrooms” and the other on “Untidy Oral History.”  Both take a postmodernist approach, regard uncertainty of validation as a given, and discuss such concepts as deconstruction, dialogic relationships, indeterminacy, and intersubjectivity. Methinks these scholars created an unnecessary messiness themselves. I’m so grateful for fellow Marylander Don Ritchie’s “Doing Oral History,” which advocates plunging in armed only with a few practical words of advice and leaving the analysis until later.“

I am one of countless oral historians who have benefitted from Alessandro Portelli’s sage insights and example.  In “Biography of an Industrial Town: Terni, Italy, 1831-2014” (2017), now available in English, he distinguishes between memory and imagination and regards his craft as a creative endeavor.  His “symphony” of working-class voices (in the words of OHRcontributor William Burns) weaves a narrative similar to many post-industrial towns and cities. In “They Say in Harlan County: An Oral History” (2011) Portelli wrote:

  I have always admired the way in which people fight back under great odds and survive, especially in the United States, where one is not supposed to be up against impossible odds.  Harlan County [KY] does not display much pursuit of happiness.  But you see there the persistence of life in the face of danger and death.

  The handling of poisonous snakes in church is a test of faith and grace, just as catching them in one’s yard is a test of prowess and courage.  The deathly presence of the snake parallels the daily danger of the mines, and the culture takes a sort of ironic pride in its ability to handle it.  The snake is both something radically other and a household presence.

The most interesting article in the special OHR section on pedagogics, Leyla Neyzi’s “National Education Meets Critical Pedagogy: Teaching Oral History in Turkey,” views oral history as an alternative to “methodologically conservative nationalist history.”Neyzi’s mentor was folklorist and historian Arzu Öztürkmen of Bogazici University, who at the 1998 International Oral History Association (IOHA) conference in Rio de Janeiro presented a splendid paper entitled “The Irresistible Charm of the Interview.”  Phil and I danced with Öztürkmen at the U.S. Consulate’s gala for IOHA members.  I learned that the Turkish belly dance is similar to the Hawaiian hula except for the arm motion. 

Leyla Neyzi and Arzu Ozturkmen

In 2000, thanks in part to Öztürkmen, Bogazici University hosted the IOHA conference.  I was there when grandson James was born. In Istanbul I gave a talk about Inland Steel’s “Red Local” 1010 and the Steelworker’s Fight Back 1977 USWA election. One conference session was on the Armenian genocide during and after World war I resulted in the Turks extermination of approximately a million people.  When governmental officials threatened to prevent it, the IOHA threatened to hold the conference elsewhere.  An overflow audience included many people who were not IOHA members.  Neyzi wrote that this neglected episode in Turkish history illustrates “the silences and contradictions of public history”:

  When mentioned in history textbooks, Armenians tend to be referred to as “traitors” who were “relocated” during wartime for raison d’etat.  The prevalent view is that the (“so-called”) Armenian genocide is a myth Turkey’s internal and external “enemies” fabricated. Given that young people are raised with this public narrative (which masks an “open secret” only discussed in private), what are the implications of introducing the Armenian genocide as a historical event in the classroom, along with the memories of survivors as recorded by oral historians?”  

Neyzi broached this controversial subject in “’Wish They Hadn’t Left’: The Burden of Armenian Memory in Turkey,” a chapter in the 2010 book “Speaking to One Another: Personal Memories of the Past in Armenia and Turkey.”

Regal Beloit’s threat to move its Valpo operations to a plant in Monticello, Indiana, is shameful blackmail. All striking workers demand is a 75-cent hourly wage increase and health insurance not to exceed $15,000 a year. NWI Timescorrespondent Joseph S. Pete wrote: “The bearings manufacturing operation has a long history in Valparaiso and is even older than U.S. Steel's Gary Works. Regal Beloit, a multinational electric motors manufacturer, has only owned the former McGill Manufacturing Co. for five years.” Mayor Jon Costas released this statement:

  This decision would impact approximately 110 union workers and another 50-60 nonunion management positions. As a community, we are disappointed that Regal is considering shutting down this productive facility and urge them to reconsider this unfortunate option. 

Employees agreed to return to work while negotiations continue regarding the dispute and the company’s heartless position.

Anne Balay wrote:

Memories. Ten years ago today, at a faculty meet and greet, James Lane suggested to me that I do oral histories of gay steelworkers. I was telling him about my interest in blue collar queers, and he said this was an interesting and fun opportunity. I was an English professor with no background in ethnography or interviewing. I was an introvert. I never looked back and the people I know now because of that work are the greatest gift anyone could have.

Last October, in Montreal for an OHA conference session Anne Balay organized, I teared up at lunch with one of Anne’s Haverford students, Phil Reid, describing my suggestion that she interview LGBT steelworkers and how her department chair held that against her, preferring that Anne keep churning out largely unread children’s lit articles.

Ray Smock photographed the Milky Way near Spray, Oregon and wrote:

   The Milky Way this time of year dominates the sky from horizon to horizon. We had two nights of crystal-clear sky with stars so bright it was easy to see in total darkness. Spray, Oregon a town of 150 was six miles from our viewing site and blocked by a mountain. No light pollution!  We got lucky in the high desert with beautiful days and star filled nights. We went to a country store where we were the only ones not wearing camouflage. It was opening day for elk hunting for bow hunters.

On the second week of bowling I rolled a 473 (148-152-173) as the Electrical Engineers took two games and series by a mere 12 pins.  In the tenth frame of game three Ron Smith doubled, I struck and spared, setting the stage for 87-year-old Frank Shufran, our clean-up man, who needed to pick up a ten-pin, normally his nemesis, in order for us to prevail.  He nailed it and flashed four fingers, signifying the number of times he had converted it.  On an adjacent alley, 82-year-old Gene Clifford, a former Valpo H.S. bowling coach, rolled a 236 despite missing a couple spares.

Steve and Wanda Trafny

Historian John C. Trafny gave me a copy of his latest Arcadia “Images of America” volume, “Downtown Gary, Millrats, Politics, and US Steel,” co-authored by his sister Diane F. Trafny.  On the cover is a Calumet Regional Archives photo of a parade float provided by Gary Works passing the Lake Superior Court Building during the 1931 Gary Silver Jubilee celebration.The book includes several photos of the Trafny's parents, Steve, who saw action in the Pacific during World War II, and Wanda, a refugee from Poland.  In the introduction they paint a vivid picture of Gary’s downtown commercial district during its 30-year heyday beginning in the 1920s, which drew shoppers and pleasure seekers from throughout the Calumet Region despite stores being closed on Sundays prior to the 1950s except for gas stations and pharmacies:

 Shoppers were offered a host of stores. Large national chains like Sears, J.C. Penney, Florsheim, and S.S. Kresge Co., and Chicago-based stores like Goldblatt Bros. became popular with blue-collar families, especially those who wanted a good deal on furniture or appliances.  H. Gordon and Sons, which opened on Broadway in the early 1920s, became one of the area’s premier clothing stores.  Others included Pearson, a women’s clothing store, and Henry C. Lytton and Sons, menswear.  Baby boomers may recall Comay’s Jewelers with its record shop, Tom Olesker’s, W.T. Grant, and Robert Hall clothing on East Fifth Avenue.  No matter the store, sales associates asked shoppers, “May I help you?” 

  Along Fifth Avenue visitors could patronize Olsen Cadillac, Baker Chevrolet, and Baruch Olds. Bakeries such as Cake Box and Sno-White provided delicious baked goods. Slicks Laundry, the Blackstone, the Lighthouse, Walts, and Gary Camera were other businesses located along the street. In addition, there were plenty of taverns in the area.They included Parkway, Cozy Corner, Trainor’s, the Spitfire Lounge, the Ingot Inn, and a host of others.  On payday Mondays, the saloons did good business as steelworkers cashed checks there instead of the banks.  It was, after all, a steel town.

Ron Cohen treated Steve McShane and me to lunch at Captain’s House in Miller.  The main order of business was doing whatever necessary to hire Steve’s replacement before he retires in a year.  As Archives co-directors, Ron and I agreed to write Library dean Latrice Booker and Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs Vicki Roman-Lagunas to urge authorization so a search can commence.   Archives volunteer Maurice Yancy had brought me a copy of the Gary Crusaderthat contained an article about the third edition of “Gary: A Pictorial History.”  Ron told me that the Katie Hall Educational Foundation has been selling them at a brisk pace.

Rolling Stone National Editor Matt Taibbi’s article “Trump 2020: Be Very Afraid” compares the President to a “mad king” whom “most people would not leave alone with a decent wristwatch, let alone their children.”  Here’s a description of him at a rally in Cincinnati: “His hair has visibly yellowed since 2016.  It’s an amazing, unnatural color, like he was electrocuted in French’s mustard.  His neckless physique is likewise a wonder. He looks like he ate Nancy Pelosi.” He scolds Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez for being disrespectful to “Nancy.”  Taibbi writes: 

 Nancy!  The lascivious familiarity with which Trump dropped her name must have stung like a tongue in Pelosi’s ear.  The Speaker, from that moment, was cornered.  A step forward meant welcoming the boils-and-all embrace of Donald Trump. A step back meant bitter intramural surrender and a likely trip to intersectionality re-education camp.

If “race, class, and gender” was once the politically correct historians’ Holy Trinity, “intersectionality” has become its unitarian synthesis. Coined by black feminist scholar Kimberle Williams Crenshaw, it’s the assertion that aspects of political and social discrimination overlap with gender.

 intersectionality

In “Chances Are” novelist Richard Russo introduced memorable minor characters such as closeted American History professor Tom Ford, who gave students the lone final exam question on the first day of class: “What caused the Civil War?” Michael, Sr., Mickey’s father, “like so many workingmen, always carried his money in a roll in his front pocket, no doubt comforted by the weight, the illusion of control you couldn’t get from a flimsy credit card.”A pipe fitter with a heart murmur that he neglected, one day he remained in the restaurant booth when his buddies got up to leave, his heart having beat for the final time.  When I told Gaard Logan that “Chances Are” was named for the 1957 Johnny Mathis song, she recalled that the brother of the African-American crooner (the secret heartthrob to many suburban young women I knew) was rumored to be a toll booth attendant in San Francisco when she moved there.