Living Mayors Forum

“I’m glad to be participating in a panel of ‘living mayors.’ For me, it could have gone either way.” Richard Gordan Hatcher, Mayor of Gary, 1968-1986 

 Richard Hatcher, Tom Barnes (holding "Gary: A Pictorial History) and Karen Freeman-Wilson; 

Post-Trib photo by Kyle Telechan

Close to 200 people came to IUN’s Bergland Auditorium for a “Living Mayors” 90-minute forum featuring Richard Hatcher, Thomas Barnes, Scott King, Dozier Allen, and moderator Karen Freeman-Wilson. Beforehand, I presented copies of “Gary: A Pictorial History” to the former Gary mayors. In his opening statement Hatcher mentioned meeting an audience member who was a Hatcherette during his 1967 grassroots campaign and explained that local candidates commonly attended up to a dozen neighborhood get-togethers in a single evening.  The Hatcherettes would show up first to let people know that Hatcher was on his way.  Mayor Freeman-Wilson’s first exposure to America’s first black Mayor was when her parents set up folding chairs in their unfinished basement and hosted such an event.

 Scott King and Dozier T. Allen

Dozier Allen said he first met Hatcher when the two were virtually the only African-Americans at Valpo University, Dozier an undergraduate and Hatcher in law school. With other young black professionals they helped found Muigwithania, which became their political base, and Dozier was a candidate for city council when Hatcher ran for Mayor.  “When I told my friends about my plans,”Hatcher added, “they told me to lie down until I came to my senses.”  Post-Tribreporter Carole Carlson quoted him as saying, “When I decided to run for mayor, it wasn’t something that was easy. During course of the campaign, there were threats, and the city itself was extremely polarized.”  He talked about staying up all night traveling around town to urge people to remain calm in the wake of Martin Luther King’s assassination in 1968 and being summoned to the White House to meet with President Lyndon Baines Johnson as riots were erupting in most major cities (but not Gary), including the nation’s capital. When the President suggested that black leaders urge ghetto residents not to riot, Hatcher bluntly told him that they were not the cause of the crisis. 

Mayor Freeman-Wilson asked her predecessors to talk about the importance of networking downstate and in Washington, DC.  Hatcher complimented her on having been elected head of the National League of Cities and expressed displeasure that a local newspaper criticized her for seeking the post, adding: “I could empathize with that. I would go to Washington and negotiate millions of dollars in grants for our city, and by the time I got back to O’Hare, the local paper was criticizing me. You have to go out of town.”  Hatcher noted that former Indianapolis mayor Richard Lugar was sympathetic to Gary’s problems and helpful when a U.S. Senator. Dozier Allen brought up working with Republican governor Otis Bowen, a physician, on funding to combat sickle cell anemia.  Scott King recalled meeting with Bill Clinton’s attorney-general Janet Reno and securing some $4 million annually for the Community Oriented Policing (COPS) program, which got reduced to almost nothing after Republican George W. Bush took office.  

Thomas Barnes, a classmate of Freeman-Wilson’s mother in Roosevelt’s rowdy Class of 1954, got a big hand when he revealed that his administration rejected awarding Donald Trump’s company a riverboat casino (my friend Clark Metz headed the search committee) “because his record at that time was not a good one” but state officials overruled him.  Scott King, whom Freeman-Wilson first encountered in the courtroom when he was a defense attorney and she was a young lawyer on the county prosecutor’s staff, emphasized that public safety, both the reality and perception, was his top priority when he took office in 1996.  All four mayors emphasized roadblocks from state officials regarding public education, tax and assessment policies and emphasized that, compared to Indianapolis, Gary has been short-changed.

 audience members at Living Mayors forum; Pst-Trib photo by Kyle Telechan

Sitting next to Paul Kaczocha and Mike Olszanski, I brought up needing to renew my driver’s license, which now requires several identification documents (a Republican voter suppression measure, many believe). Oz had problems since he did not use his first name, Sylvester, on his passport of driver’s license.  Until Sylvester Stallone came along, Oz explained, the name got him in several playground fights.

 Harriet Lane portrait at Coast Guard Academy

Belated Christmas presents from the Hagelbergs included a Kidstuff Playstations hoodie that came in handy as the temperature dipped into the teens and a children’s book about Harriet Lane, my great-great-great Uncle James Buchanan’s First Lady.  In her early 20s when hostess for the future bachelor president, who was appointed U.S. Minister to the Court of St. James in 1853, she favored low-cut dresses then fashionable in Europe that showed off her ample breasts, attracting the attention of the Prince of Wales, heir to the British throne, and many suitors.  Authors Ginger Shelley and Sandie Munro wrote:

  Harriet was enormously popular. Uncle James and the famous poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson, were to receive the honorary Doctor of Civil Law from Oxford University.  Harriet accompanied her uncle to the grand festivities.  When the students at Oxford saw Harriet, they greeted this fashionable woman with cheers and much whistling.  She became the center of attention at an event which was supposed to be for her uncle and the English poet.

Grandson James’ paper on Sinclair Lewis’ “Babbitt,” titled “A Midlife Psychoanalysis,” is beyond awesome.  It begins, “Most people experience what is known as a midlife crisis in their lives.  Doing the same mundane routine day after day can cause someone to desire change and/or excitement.  Thoughts like these can cause people to make rash decisions in an attempt to, as they say, ‘make up for lost time.’”  In the case of George F. Babbitt, this includes, James points out, questioning both his political views and bourgeois lifestyle.  He quotes Babbitt as thinking, “I’ll be 50 in three years.  60 in 13 years.  I’m going to have some fun before it’s too late.”  His new personality led to friends and business acquaintances shunning him, forcing Babbitt to realize, James wrote, “the hopelessness of not having any choice, making his return to his previous beliefs and social acceptance bittersweet.”  James used the word exegesis (meaning critical interpretation), which he said was a word the class had recently learned. 

I binge-watched Sally4Ever, an English comedy series on HBO co-starring Catherine Shepherd, whose life is in a rut until she has a torrid affair with Emma (Juliette Davis), a free-spirited bohemian actress whom she meets on a commuter train.  When her boyfriend of ten years asks why she is leaving him, she replies that she found their sex life boring for the past seven.  One reviewer wrote: “This is a portrayal of a woman's midlife crisis going horribly wrong but in a hilarious fashion. Julia always likes to go way beyond the boundaries and that is what black comedies are all about. Julia Davis does it so well and really you need to just accept the dark and shocking humor or just don't watch it if you are easily offended. It's as simple as that!”  I loved Davis in “Camping” as the free-spirited Jandice and her portrayal if Emma is similar on the surface but much, much darker and controlling.

 scene from "The Day the Earth Stood Still"

Trump seems eager to exploit the government shutdown as a means of proclaiming a national emergency in order to build his stupid wall at our Southern border.  Ray Smock wrote:

  When the classic science fiction film of 1954, “The Day the Earth Stood Still” was in theaters, the nation was experiencing the frenzy of the fear of communist infiltration of our government, led by the demagoguery of Senator Joseph McCarthy. It was the Cold War and we were in an atomic arms race with the Soviet Union. In the film, a spaceman comes to Earth to warn us that if our petty squabbles and war-like tendencies spread too far, our planet would be reduced to a cinder.  To demonstrate his awesome power, Klatu, the spaceman, made the world come to a complete halt for 30 minutes to get the attention of Earthlings. Our military forces, shocked and dismayed by their impotence, announced that the president was going to declare a state of national emergency! 

I watched the film again as the president seems on the verge of declaring a national state of emergency, as if the aliens were indeed from outer space and only his unilateral action to find the money to build a wall to stop the hordes would solve the problem and save the nation. Never mind that it might take ten years to build the wall, we need the money NOW! We need the money because President Trump wants it to prove he is boss of America. 

  Trump, like Klatu the Spaceman, thinks he can stop the world to make his point. Well, maybe not the world. But Trump has stopped the government of the most powerful nation on Earth for a political whim. As the scientist in the movie, played by Sam Jaffe, says to the spaceman, “I didn’t know such power exists.” 

  To think that a single man, even though he may be the President of the United States, can shut down the government to score a political point. I thought the job of the president was to run the government, not shut it down. 

Vice

“Vice president – it has such a nice ring to it.” Geraldine Ferraro, 1984 Vice Presidential candidate“

After reading four-star reviews of “Vice,” starring Christian Bale and Amy Adams as Dick and Lynne Cheney, I decided to go see it.  When I arrived at Portage 16, I noticed to my surprise that “Green Book,” which had previously come and gone after just one week, was also playing.  It started ten minutes after “Vice,” so figured that I could always change theaters after a few minutes if I decided to but soon discovered the theater no longer posts where the films are playing. Evidently a theater-hopper recently got detained and turned over to police, but as a soon-to-be 77-year-old, I’m sure I could weasel out of any difficulty claiming confusion upon realizing “Vice” was not an update of Miami Vice,my favorite Eighties TV show.

The acting was spot-on, with Sam Rockwell and Steve Carell stunning as George W. Bush and Donald Rumsfeld, but I was somewhat disappointed that “Vice” provided few insights about the most powerful and dangerous vice president in American history. It glossed over the fact that Cheney made millions as CEO of Halliburton and that the company made obscene profits from governmental contracts during the Iraq War, which Cheney pushed the country into.  I already knew about director Adam McKay employing such unorthodox gimmicks as rolling the credits prematurely and including a surrealistic bedroom scene where Dick and Lynne recite lines from Shakespeare.  It begins showing Cheney as a 22 year-old Yale dropout with a drinking problem and concludes with daughter Liz becoming Wyoming’s lone House member after denouncing gay marriage despite her lesbian sister Mary being wed to a woman. 

Cheney’s main vice, according to the movie, was a total absence of humility or self-doubt. He seemed to feel no need to apologize for anything, whether shooting a friend while hunting or ordering the incarceration and torture of Muslims in some cases only indirectly connected to those who carried out the 9/11/01 attacks.  In the movie’s final scene Cheney, facing a reporter’s camera, utters a statement eerily similar to a line in Shakespeare’s Richard III: “I can feel your incriminations and your judgment, and I am fine with that.”  Washington Postmovie critic Ann Hornaday wrote:

  Structurally, “Vice” is a mess, zigging here and zagging there, never knowing quite when to end, and when it finally does, leaving few penetrating or genuinely illuminating ideas to ponder. . . . The historical long game, with all its ambiguities and unforeseen consequences, isn’t as compelling to director Adam McKay as delivering as many kitschy, cartoonish parting shots as he can to someone who even today seems both pathologically self-serving and supremely indifferent to being liked.

 George and Ruth Leach with cousin

Electrical Engineers swept three games from Pin Chasers, the first place team that two weeks before had skunked us during position round. I rolled a 481, well above my 143 average, without many strikes, but I picked up most spares, including the 3-9 twice, usually a tough one for me.  On a 6-7-10 split I threw my 40-year-old “spare” ball exactly as needed but the 6-pin stopped within an inch of the 7.  Mel Nelson pulled something in his upper arm at the beginning of game two, so we had to bowl the last two games with a ten-pin penalty.  Opponent George Leach’s name was on a list of recent 300 bowlers.  He told me that he had a perfect game 30 years ago and again last month with the same ball. Marie Roscoe’s granddaughter’s boyfriend, a bowler, came to give her tips.  She tended to leave the seven-pin on pocket hits.  

Dave’s family was at the condo playing a dice bowling game, having helped Toni put away the Christmas tree and decorations. After calling captain Frank Shufran to report bowling highlights, I joined them for a Piglet dice game. I finished dead last, prematurely “pigging out” too many times.  For dinner Toni served spaghetti, meatballs, angel hair, salad, garlic bread and scallops.  A feast! 

Rolling Stone’s “Year in Music” issue arrived with Travis Scott (above) on the cover.  I asked Tamiya what she thought of Scott Travis, our private joke ever since I mistakenly referred to Kendrick Lamar as Lamar Kendrick.  She told me to check out J-Cole.  The year’s top five albums were all by females led by Carli B and followed by Kacey Musgrave, Camila Cabello, Adriana Grande, and Pistol Annies (Miranda Lambert, Ashley Monroe, and Angaleena Presley).  Overkill for past slights, perhaps?  Beginning with Scott and Drake, rappers by far outnumbered rockers although Kurt Vile’s “Bottle It In” was #9.  Also making the top 25 were worthy albums by John Prine, Paul McCartney, and Beach House.

As Philadelphia and Chicago faced off on the gridiron, I was rooting for the Eagles but wouldn’t have been too disappointed had the Bears advanced in the NFL playoffs. It all came down to a 43-yard field goal attempt by Cody Parkey, who had endured a mediocre season, missing eight 3-point attempts and three extra points.  Against Detroit he had hit the goal post upright several times.  Unbelievably, he did it again, not only plunking the upright but then dropping down to the crossbar and bouncing back into the end zone. On TV Chris Collingworth called it a “Double doink.”  A Philadelphia newspaper headline read, “Clanks for the Memory.” Parkey said afterwards, “You can’t make this up.  I feel terrible.  I let the team down.  That’s on me. I have to own it.  I have to be a man.  Unfortunately, that’s the way it went today.”  The fickle finger of fate, as Sixties comedian Dick Martin would say on “Laugh-In.” Eagle Treyvon Hester evidently got a couple fingers on the ball, but pundits were making comparisons to such infamous Chicago sports moments as Leon Durham’s miscue in the final game of 1984 NL playoffs and Cub fan Steve Bartman interfering with a catchable foul ball in 2003.  It reminded me of Buffalo Bills kicker Scott Norwood missing a 47-yard attempt (“Wide right!”the announcer famously exclaimed) on the final play of Super Bowl XXV against the Giants in 1991.

Last week Becca’s Chesterton choral group sang the National Anthem at Valparaiso University’s Missouri Valley Conference opener against Illinois State.  At the game Allison Schuette (above) was honored for winning VU's Faculty Research award. The following morning on the CBS morning news was a clip of a miracle buzzer-beating half-court shot by VU’s Markus Golder, which won the game for the Crusaders, 58-56.

Before leaving for IUN I stocked the downstairs fridge with beer and grabbed my satchel, an empty Yuengling bottle, and a pair of slacks on a hanger.  Halfway up the stairs I somehow stepped on the slacks, stopped to rearrange them, and grabbed the bannister as I began to lose my balance and possibly fall backward.  Close call! Near my library carrel three students were at a table where I normally put down my stuff to unlock the door.  A young coed confirmed it was her first day of the semester but didn’t seem very excited.  I asked if she had any History courses; she was taking Western Civilization with David Parnell.  I raved about him, but sadly its online, so she won't see him in action in the classroom.

I thought I had cleaned out my Archives cage, but Steve found a few interesting items, including some ancient floppy disks and steelworker W.P. Cottingham’s 1943 work diary (quite fascinating, including weather reports and time left for home) that Steve returned to its rightful collection.

Joe Louis and Ann Gregory 

Traces editor Ray Boomhower is interested in publishing my article on Joe Louis in Gary and wants photos for it.  I sent him of the heavyweight champ at a Gary Par-Makers golf tournament and another of Louis with Gary golf great Ann Gregory, who supposedly said as she paid her whites-only South Gleason green fee: “I want to play the big course.  My tax money helps pay for this course. If you don’t like it, send the police out to get me.”  She got some angry stares, but nobody stopped her.  The Archives also had one of North Gleason Park pavilion in 1953, where the nine-hole course was located, and another of the North Gleason clubhouse at present, which Indiana Landmarks is attempting to save.  

I got a phone call from Douglas Dixon, author of a Traces article about the Campos family that settled in southern Indiana, which I wrote about on my blog.  He pointed out that I misspelled the Spanish word for road or route - “La Via” as La Vie.” I promised to correct it, and we went on to talk for 20 minutes.  He praised my book (with Edward Escobar) “Forging a Community” and upon learning I was co-director of the Calumet Regional Archives recognized it as the source for several photos used to illustrate his article. The former IU student asked me to review a manuscript about IU diplomatic historian Robert Ferrell. I told him about my friend David Malham being in his class and pronouncing Valparaiso, Chili like the Indiana city (with the third syllable like an “a” rather than an “i”), causing Ferrell to ridicule him. 

A Facebook post by Steve Spicer began: “Did you know that Miller Beach was the site of the first ‘Miss Indiana’ pageant? Or had the first radio station in the region? Or the St Mary of the Lake congregation got its start in a ballroom?”  His website contained information on Gay-Mills (short for Gary and Miller) ballroom, founded in 1922 by Frances Kennedy, a vaudeville comedienne, and husband Thomas, and for a decade the venue for dance bands, prize fights, beauty contests, and the Region’s first radio station, WJKS (“Where Joy Kills Sorrow”). One person recalled that a host watched to make sure couples weren’t dancing too close together and forbade anyone from doing “The Shimmy.”

At bridge I learned that former partner Dee VanBebber passed away over the weekend at age 89.  Daughter Lissa informed the Times: 

She loved her family dearly and rallied for one last, great gathering at the home of her sister Nanette (Jerry) Rushton where she delighted in the company of her other siblings Michael (Gloria) Davis and Daneeta (Arvin) Phelps. Also present were her children Lissa (Tom) Yogan, Bill (Tina) VanBebber and Jim VanBebber. She was the loving grandmother of Justin VanBebber, Billy Yogan, Rylee Yogan, and Maria Yogan who were also present at the Christmas gathering. Dee was a high school teacher and girls' golf coach in Greenville, OH and was known affectionately as 'mom' by many of her students. She continued teaching after moving to Crystal River, FL when her husband sold his jewelry store. She loved playing bridge and golf and excelled at both.

Dee was a class act and great conversationalist as well as a very skilled bridge player who never faulted partners for low boards. A Tampa Bay fan, she harbored a grudge against manager Joe Madden for abandoning the Devil Rays in favor of the Cubs.  Either Chuck and Marcy Tomes or Tom and Lori Rea brought her to games, and she had 70 percent scores with several of us.  Her ashes will be spread at her favorite golf courses in Ohio and Florida.

Man on the Moon

“Moses went walking with the staff of wood 

Newton got beaned by the apple good
Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp
Mister Charles Darwin had the gall to ask

Yeah yeah yeah yeah” 

    “Man on the Moon,” R.E.M.

 Jim Carrey as Andy Kaufman

Over the holidays I watched “Man on the Moon” (1999) starring Jim Carrey as comic genius Andy Kaufman, Paul Giamatti as his collaborator, Danny de Vito as his manager, and Courtney Love as his girlfriend.  Among Kaufman’s zany bits were a unique Elvis impression and singing along to a corny old standard. He loved stunts and put-ons, such as wrestling Jerry Lawler and reading “The Great Gatsby” for hours to a college audience. The film was both hilarious and sad, as Andy died young of cancer.  As the credits rolled, R.E.M.’s “Man on the Moon” played in the background.

Toni, Marianne, Jimbo, Missy; photo by Angie Lane

Marianne Brush’s Holiday party featured a present exchange where everyone contributed a gift and when your number was drawn, you could either select a new one or steal someone else’s.  After three trades a gift was safe.  I stole someone’s 6-pack of craft beer.  Someone took it but another 6-pack was still available to pilfer.  I didn’t have it long; the thief first said, “I’m sorry,”then “I’m really sorry,”and finally, “I’m not really sorry.”   I ended up with a safe bottle of vodka since I was the third owner. Afterwards I jokingly told the culprit he did a pretty poor job pretending to be sorry.  He looked contrite and offered me one of the bottles.  I laughed and said that wasn’t necessary.

We had a full house Christmas afternoon for chili, tree trimming, and the annual March of Presents and even more the next day for our Christmas dinner and party. Among my presents were jelly, a belt, cool briefs Josh bought in Spain, and the party game Telestrations (for laughs, no winners). I learned Qwixx, a neat dice game, played Perudo and Texas Hold ‘em, and washed dishes while most others engaged in several games of Werewolf.  At one time I counted 18 folks at the condo, including many who slept over for several days.

I finished “Heirs to the Founders: The Epic Rivalry of Henry Clay, John Calhoun, and Daniel Webster.” My impressions were confirmed that Clay and Webster were, for the most part, admirable patriots while Calhoun was a pompous secessionist. Reading about the 1830 Webster-Hayne Senate debate during the nullification crisis, I recalled how school children once memorized Webster’s stirring defense of the Union.  His most statesmanlike act: remaining Secretary of State after William Henry Harrison died a month after assuming office in order to negotiate an important Canadian border treaty with Great Britain.  For more than a generation, Clay strove to find ways to prevent the slavery issue from destroying the country, an impossible task given western expansion.

Fifty years ago, what had been a miserable 12 months of war, assassinations, race riots, “white backlash,” and Nixon’s election climaxed with three astronauts aboard Apollo 8, including Gary native Frank Borman, circling the moon.  At the time I wasn’t much impressed. As Norman Mailer would write, it signaled a triumph for technology, which he despised, and the dawn of an uncertain age.  Now I am more in awe of the achievement and appreciative of space exploration.  Some asked why spend billions in a race to get to the moon before the Russians while there are so many needs at home; of course, gutting NASA wouldn’t necessarily have translated to more War on Poverty funding.

 Sharon Fisher

My 470 series helped the Electrical Engineers take two of three games despite opponent Sharon Fisher’s 582 series, 5 less than best women’s league score of the season (held by her).  I couldn’t figure why Mikey Wardell’s Kyle Schwarber shirt was red rather than Cubbie blue until he turned around and on the front it said Indiana.  Of course, he went to IU!  I kept my good ball in the car and two days later had a good time bowling with Phil and Dave,  the winner despite not having bowled since the three of us were at Inman’s a year ago.

Robert Blaszkiewicz’s “Best of 2018” mix CD contains some old favorite bands who are still making good music, such as the Jayhawks, Parquet Courts, Decembrists, and They Might Be Giants, as well as others I’d never heard of, including Superchunk (“What a Time To be Alive”) and Dirty Projectors (“That’s a Lifestyle”). Beach House again made the mix, this time with “Dive,” reminiscent of Beach Boys harmonies. I was delighted to find Kurt Vile’s “Loading Zones” among the 20 songs selected, as well as John Prine’s “No Ordinary Blue.” Robert explained that his annual exercise keeps him current with new music, that Superchunk delivers “a fitting dose of outrage in the opener,”and that “occasionally there’s a discovery that’s a pure delight”:

This year, that was The Essex Green’s album, “Hardly Electronic,” their first after a 12-year absence for this Brooklyn band. It’s a great pop record, stylistically diverse, beautiful melodies, and a lyric in the sublime song “Patsy Desmond" that stunned me first time I heard it – “Calumet City, Miller Beach, Chicago skyline just out of reach.”  

When I noticed “The Joke” by Brandi Carlile, it reminded me that once, when invited to a party at Anne Balay’s, knowing that she was a Brandi Carlile fan, I gave her a CD by the Go-Gos, mistaking Brandi Carlile for Go-Gos singer Belinda Carlisle.  Anne tactfully said she liked Go-Gos.

 Jef between son Jordan and John Hendricks (photo by Chuck Halberstadt)

Jef Halberstadt’s annual Game Weekend lasted six days, Thursday through Tuesday, attracting regulars from as far away as Wisconsin and Fort Wayne.  During my appearances I avoided the marathon games but did get in Acquire and learned a board version of Lost Cities.  When somebody asked Jef how we knew each other, he mentioned taking my Sixties course in 1981 and inviting everyone to attend.  I was the only one to take him up on it.  I have been a regular ever since, often with Phil and Dave. This New Year’s Eve I was home before dark and in bed well before midnight.  Good riddance to 2018, as Trump has shut down the government over his damned wall.  Since so many senior Republican Senators have retired, the only one left with half a spine seems to be Utah’s Mitt Romney, perhaps hoping, like Ike 70 years ago, to save the GOP from extremists.

Looking over the many Happy Holiday cards we received, including greetings from Rosalyn and Jimmy Carter and the message “Tis the season to ratify the ERA” from NOW, we heard from old friends (Phil Arnold from high school, Dick Jeary from college) former neighbors (Dean, Joanell and Ann Bottorff) and Seventies students Jim Reha and Kathy O’Rourke, among others. A few signed with first name only I had to ask Toni about.  William and Pamela Lowe’s card featured artwork by IUN students Casey King, Christopher Hartz, and Kimberly Variot.  Nice.

Rocks in the Road

“There will always be rocks in the road ahead of us. They will be stumbling blocks or stepping stones; it all depends on how you use them.” Friedrich Nietzsche

Steve McShane

With very little warning word came that the Calumet Regional Archives (my campus home) has to be moved from our quarters on the third floor of the library.  Here’s Steve McShane’s recap of this bombshell:

  Our library director, Latrice Booker, called an “emergency” staff meeting, concerning the library renovation project.  We knew our library building was scheduled for a replacement of its mechanical systems, aka Heating, Ventilation, and Cooling this winter/spring and that the new mechanical system equipment would be installed in the northwest corner of the 3rd floor, rather than on the roof (sounds crazy, but that's the plan).  We learned that the contractors and facilities people want the entire 3rd floor vacated—books, furniture, computers, and, yes, people.  No one, except contractors, tradesmen, and facilities staff would be allowed on the 3rd floor beginning the first week of January and until sometime in the month of May (but today, we learned the project could extend to Fall semester). There will be no heat, no ventilation, no power, no computers/computer access.  There will be wires hanging down, ceilings torn out, and other construction debris and equipment.  I’m uncertain if I will even be allowed up there.  Of course, they’re concerned about safety and liability. 

  On Thursday, I took about a dozen contractors and facilities people, both locally and from Bloomington through the CRA and explained that the materials really shouldn’t be moved but rather protected with tarp over the shelving, but they were non-committal.   I asked Gary Greiner, the head of our campus Physical Plant department, if they had a plan to deal with the Archives in this project.  He just smiled and said they’re working on it.  I again stressed to Gary that I'd really prefer not to move the CRA off of the third floor.  There is just too much material, and I can't picture it going anywhere.  After the meeting, I walked Vicki (our VCAA) and Latrice through the CRA, to show them what an impossible task it would be. Vicki expressed concern that the contractors will have some flammable equipment, such as welders, which could spark and start a fire.  I confess I hadn't thought of that.  Latrice suggested that one option might be to move stuff temporarily to the second floor and then back again, doing so in phases.  I'm willing to consider it.

Sigh! Steve did secure three second floor carrels, including one for me, so I’ll have my computer, phone, a bookcase, and enough space for a desk and table.  Moving everything in the Archives elsewhere will be a gigantic task.  One possible option: a building on Grant Street occupied by the Fine Arts department for decade after the 2008 flood caused Tamarack to be condemned and until completion of the Arts and Sciences Building. By week’s end, with much help from Evar and Cortez from Physical Plant and Larry from Tech Services, I moved into my new carrel.  I made a dozen trips with light items and still left a few things behind.

Just as the library Holiday luncheon was about to begin, the fire alarm forced everyone to evacuate the building and not use the elevator.  I had to walk up to the third floor for my coat and then walk down two flights. While outside I asked Kathy Malone why the IUN choir would not perform at next year’s Holiday party.  Unbelievably, someone complained, about the song selection I suppose.  I told her the “12 Days of Christmas” singalong was the reason many people attend.  Three emeritus professors in the choir might cease attending without that motivation. Many others have urged Kathy to reconsider.

I pigged out on chicken wings, salad from Olive Garden, an assortment of raw veggies, and a tamale, plus several deserts. Librarian Latrice Booker invited the work-study students and planned some games.  The event lasted several hours; as I left to go home around 3:30, folks were striving to throw ping pong balls into cups and singing karaoke from their cell phones.  Megan Reinle started performing a lively number, so I sat on a stool and did hand-jive moves while swaying to the beat.

It was good to see retired librarians Tim Sutherland and Cele Morris, the latter interviewed by one of Steve’s students about her bowling days.  Before she left, I retrieved a copy of Steel Shavings,volume 43, for her that mentions her husband, physicist John Morris’ retirement reception, at which Dean Mark Hoyert delivered a hilarious recital of titles to some of John’s more abstruse scholarly articles.  On the cover was a photo of Anne Balay’s “Steel Closets”; the back cover contained a shot of Anne taken from the back wearing a “Steel Closets” jacket and the inscription, “Thanks for eight exciting years.” I noted that my vehement protest over Balay being denied tenure caused the university to disassociate itself from the magazine for two years.  The low point came after I made a case to the Faculty Board of Review that judging Balay’s service contributions inadequate was a travesty.  A day later, a patently untrue rumor circulated that I had called Dean Hoyert a homophobe.  One ridiculous story even had it that I uttered “homophobe” as Hoyert passed me in the hallway.  A fellow Marylander, Hoyert knew I respected him too much to stoop to such a level.

 Mark Hoyert

There has not been an Arts and Sciences Holiday party since Hoyert’s assistants Diane Robinson and Dorothy Grier retired, due in part to budget cuts and silly rules about not serving food from outside sources.  Hoyert shined at those events, often singing a familiar song with lyrics referring humorously to recent division doings.

From a Christmas card I learned that Beverly Arnold, wife of high school friend, will need yet another heart operation. I’ve never met her but we’ve frequently talked on the phone.  She has already overcome great odds and is a fighter.  My former bridge partner Dee Van Bebber, in her late 80s, is in hospice care.  Her son-in-law answered my phone call and reported (ominously) that she is resting comfortably. Her daughter read my recent email to her.

“Laverne and Shirley” star Penny Marshall passed away at age 75.  With a few exceptions, I’ve never been a big fan of sitcoms but could appreciate Marshall’s zany brand of slapstick reminiscent of Lucille Ball.  Of course,  I loved “A League of Their Own,” which she directed, with Geena Davis, Madonna, and Rosie O’Donnell cast as World War II-era baseball players.  The film contains the famous Tom Hanks line, “There’s no crying in baseball!”

At Chesterton library I checked out “Heirs to the Founders: The Epic Rivalry of Henry Clay, John Calhoun, and Daniel Webster” by H.W. Brand.  The three statesmen represented the West, South, and Northeast respectively and strove to find ways to deal the two great issues left unresolved by the Founding Fathers: slavery and federal sovereignty versus states rights. ” In the library’s video room I found a Kurt Vile CD, “Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze.”  Nephew Bob, a fellow War on Drugs fan, knew that Vile was one its founders and was familiar with Vile’s current hit “Loading Zones.” Two bands he recommended I check out are Caamp and the Tesky Brothers.

Dave Serynek arranged a mini-reunion for members of Porter Acres softball team at Flamingo’s in Miller.  Omar Farag arrived wearing a Santa hat, having come from several appearances as St. Nick, and the bar patrons made a big fuss. One glorious year four decades ago, we were Woodlawn Park league champions. Several guys remembered umpire Chuck Tomes, who I see at duplicate bridge.  Sam Johnston asked how IUN librarian “Annie” Koehler was doing. They’re both Izaak Walton members, but their building in Portage burned down two years ago.  He lamented that his one claim to immortality, a photo of members of an undefeated Babe Ruth youth league team sponsored by the chapter, was lost in the fire. I reminded him of a Porter Acres team photo in a Shavingsissue.  About a dozen of us vacationed in the Bahamas, during which his nickname became “the Bahama llama.”

After we checked into our ritzy Bahamian hotel, a greeter ended her welcome spiel by asking, “Any questions?”Paulie’s hand went up, and he asked if she could get us another pitcher of the rum punch. Upon learning that beer cost five bucks, we found a liquor store selling cases, no matter what brand, for $24.  We spent the week drinking Heineken.

Everyone had favorite anecdotes.  Once, when we defeated a team comprised of motorcycle club members, they wanted to fight us in the parking lot.  Omar got them to party with us instead.  Centerfielder Tom Byerman often showed up for games half-tanked.  One evening an opponent was a player short, so a spectator filled in.  I struck him out the first two times, a rarity in slow-pitch softball.  Next time he came to bat, Byerman strode all the way to the infield despite my protestations.  The guy hit a line drive over Byerman’s head.  After the ball was already past him, he threw his glove in the air but didn’t even turn to run after it.  At the Playboy casino a security guard spotted someone in our group smoking a joint in the courtyard.  First he ridiculed itds punt size, then threatened stiff jail time, and finally demanded $25 a person.  My family was walking along the beach and escaped the shakedown.

It was Ivan Jasper’s birthday, so we left a message on his phone.  He was our leader, and the team disbanded after he moved to the Virgin Islands.  We all had Ivan stories.  In our banner years we played in a Woodlawn Park tournament that included all classes. Against a team clearly our superior with me on the mound, we held a 7-3 lead, amazingly, going into the seventh. In the top of the inning they tied the score. It would have been worse except for spectacular plays by both Paulie and Ivan.  In the bottom of the seventh, I got a hit and was on second with two outs.  The next better got a hit to left, and Ivan, coaching third, indicated I should stop there.  I ran home anyway, knowing we’d get slaughtered in extra innings. A good throw would have nailed me, but the ball skipped by the catcher.  We won, but Ivan was still furious at my disobeying him.

 Paulie, David, Jimbo, Omar, Sam, Rocky at Flamingo's

Everyone had favorite anecdotes.  Once, when we defeated a team comprised of motorcycle club members, they wanted to fight us in the parking lot.  Omar invited them to party with us instead, and they agreed.  Centerfielder Tom Byerman often showed up for games half-tanked. One evening we went against an excellent team that was a player short, so they got a spectator to fill in who I struck out the first two times up, a rarity in slow-pitch softball.  Next time he came to bat, Byerman came all the way in to the infield despite my protestations.  This time the guy hit a line drive over Byerman’s head.  After the ball was already past him, he threw his glove in the air but didn’t even turn to run after it.

 James Madison

When Omar brought up Trump in disgust, the rest of us agreed not to talk about him.  He said, “No more than 5 minutes,”and someone immediately replied, “Five minutes are up.”  As Trump recklessly vows to shut down the government if Congress won’t appropriate 5 billion dollars for his stupid wall, Ray Smock wrote:

James Madison’s famous quotation from a letter he wrote in 1822 is relevant at this time in our history when we are bombarded with falsehoods and when we have been denied information to help us understand what is going on. This is what Madison wrote:  “A popular Government, without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a Prologue to a Farce or a Tragedy; or, perhaps both. Knowledge will forever govern ignorance: And a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives.”

I ended the day with a couple LaBatt Blues and listening to Kurt Vile’s “Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze,” which includes the track “Never Run Away.”  When Steve McShane first broke the news about the Archives needing to relocate, he joked, “Maybe I’ll take early retirement.”  Steve’s steady hand and expertise will prove invaluable as we begin a year of uncertainty with rocks in the road ahead.  I countered, “Maybe we can look at this as an opportunity for expansion and better temperature control of our facilities.” He reacted with a faint attempt at a smile.  But we’re carrying on.  “Never Run Away.”  True both for beloved colleagues and loved ones.