His Master's Voice

2011-07-25T14:09:00.002-04:00

A skydiving adventure: slude show by a colleague of my jump from a plane. Link

2011-07-24T21:05:00.006-04:00

Knucklingdown to write in this heat has been difficult. The house simply holds heat andrefuses to give it up. It was 104 earlier this week and 97 when I elected totake advantage of an opportunity to drive a racecar. Now this opportunity wasnever to take place. But there too lies a story.

Everynow and then I pause before a TV in a restaurant or bar when a stockcar race isrolling. What especially grabs me are the views of the track from the driver'svideo cam, showing a blur of track, a blockade of cars, and then a view of openstretch if the driver negotiates the tricky, sometimes nasty driving techniquesof those blocking his or her way.

Sowhen an opportunity came to sign up for a stockcar racing lesson I delayed not.My paperwork arrived, along with instructions for my 15-lap ride, which Idutifully read.

"DearHank. Congratulations. You're going racing with Drivetech Racing School. We arethe most realistic racing experience in the country, where passing isencouraged and speeds can exceed 150 mph!!!"

Rightfrom the get go on July 23 I had obstacles. I had planned on arriving an hourearly to check the track conditions. However, Lucas Oil Field in Speedway sitson sprawling acreage in Clermont, Indiana, off Exit 16A on Interstate 65, whichhappened to be closed both north and south this day, although the highwayfathers decided not to note both exits were closed. One had to visit both exitsto ascertain this truth.

So20 minutes before my appointment, I was already in a car speeding--my own, asit turned out--through an alternate way I had called up on the GPS on my phone.

Iran into three men getting out their cars ahead of me. Turned out they kneweach other and had been drag racers for years, using the lesson to upgrade tostockcar racing.

"Areyou a racer?" one asked.

"Professor,"I said.

Hejust looked at me.

"Justa novice doing something on his bucket list."

Theysmiled. "Like that Internet site bucketlist," said one.

"Yes,like that."

"Idon't mean to be nosy, but you're not dying, are you?"

Ilaughed. He looked relieved.

Wereceived directions to a media room but found a class full in session."This is the 3 o'clock session," said a man in a black polo."You're early."

Iwanted to hold up my letter which said to be twenty minutes early, but whyargue?

Iwent out with the trio and we took the stairs to the grandstand, viewing thecars racing on the track with pro drivers and drivers from the 2 a.m. class,wondering which vehicle each of us might be assigned.

Thetemperature was only 97, but the concrete seemed to make the temps well up inthe 100s. I clutched the two bottles of Gatorade my son had urged me to bringand took a few big swallows. The other three had coolers and hauledout Gatorade bottles of their own.

Atfour p.m. we went back and found seven more men in front of the media roomdoor. Most were in their twenties and built pretty much like pro baseballplayers, lean and strong, most definitely athletes. One was very grey withspectacles and one was short and botbellied.

Thefinal racer was 64 going on 65 and bigger in the shoulders than any of hisclassmates. He had on a three-quarter sleeve blue baseball shirt to ward offsunburn. He ooked like the grandfather of all these students-- except for thegreybeard and the potbellied men.

Yes, that guy would be me. Quite quicklyit turned out that ten out of the eleven had done some racing, some even hadraced stock cars, although most drag raced right here at Lucas. All of thempresumably had driven a dragster at 200+ speeds, all except one guy.

That unlucky guy too would be me.

Theinstructor had been giving lessons all day, all week, all year He was fromCalifornia and never got back home. "Welcome to my job, fellas," hewhined.

"Everyoneready for some racing," he asked. His back was to us as he bent over papers,and he got only two halfhearted "yeahs" from the group.

Hewent over the basics, some of which I knew, but which the other ten alldefinitely knew. How the shifters were two sticks with first, neutral andreverse on one, and second and third on the other.

Imade a note where reverse was. Dropping a transmission at 100 mph wasn't on mybucket list. He went over the yellow and orange tape on the track and why wedidn't want to color outside the lines lest we whip the car into a wall.

"Dothat and it will cost you $15,000 for the car," he said. "Unless youwant insurance." He explained it was available now and most of ussuccumbed to the sales pitch and drew out a credit card.

Heasked if there were any novices in the room, adding that it was really a good ideato sign up for a drive-a-long lesson inside a stockcar with a real pro driverto get a feel for what would happen on the drive-alone.

Iraised my hand. There was another fee. I thought of that $15,000 damage fee andconsidered it more insurance.

Hewent over the flags and how our helmets would be equipped with mikes. Aninstructor on the other end would shout commands.

"Payclose attention to your car number," he said. "You will be called byyour number to `lift and lock' or whatever.

Hetook a second to explain lift and lock which was a technique somehow associatedwith locked wheels, which even I knew was a bad thing. Locked wheels could senda car spinning like a top on the track. These other men had experience, but notthat much stockcar experience. I had a vision of my car getting T-boned as itspun like a roulette wheel.

"Onetime I had a guy who was just terrible. He wouldn't listen to directions. 88 dothis, 88 do that. We were going to give him the black flag and haul him to thepits to chew him out, but then I said, `Heck with it, let him finish theride.

"Whenit was over I came to help him out of the car and congratulated him forfinishing. `How was it?'"

"Great,he said, but that 88 just wouldn't listen. What a dumb-ass."

Theinstructor paused for effect. "He got out of the car and glanced at hisnumber and walked off with his head down and back bent to his knees. He hadcalled himself just what he was."

Allof us gave a nervous chuckle. "Don't be that guy," he said.

Point taken. I might crash my car into awall, I though, but when the door and panels came off I would have known whatnumber was on them.

Hewent over the yellow, green, red and black flags.

"Y'allknow the checkered flag?"

Wedid. "Don't you go taking an extra victory lap," he said. "Thisyear two jokers took a victory lap and both crashed."

Another point taken.

Wetook the elevator down to the field and then the long walk under a concretetunnel to the tents where our cars and the professional drivers lounged.

Afemale attendant waited under one tent with our black and white uniforms. Anold buddy of mine from Middletown, Indiana named "Stormin' NormanDay" had filled my head with his stockcar driver stories, including his lastrace in which his car caught fire and he was down to his last layer ofinsulated protection when the crews sprayed down the flames to get him out.

Iremembered the words of the instructor today. "Don't ever get out of yourcar on a track unless it's on fire," he said. "Then get out but becareful." I didn't need much imagination thinking of a Monte Carlo hittingme like a bowling ball putting away a ten-pin.

Iwas last in line. She had asked each of the men their true shirt size. Mostsaid medium. One was small. The plump guy with a belly said "chunky size,"making us all laugh.
Now my turn came.

"2Tor 3T or 2 or 3 XX," I whispered to her, although a couple guys close byme gave me an interested stare. Apparentlyguys built like me don't race all that often.

"Idon't think you're that big," she said, handing me a suit.

Nowlet me remind you how hot it was. Just getting the leggings and stirrups oncaused sweat to roll off me. The suit went easily over my legs and my stomach,but when it reached my chest that is where the fit ended.

"See?"I said to the attendant.

"Tryone size up."

Iwanted to repeat, "2T or 3T or 2 or 3 XX," but this was her domainand I kept respectful silence.

Bythis time all the men but one were dressed. I hurriedly sat on the grass andthis time the leggings and top came right up to my chest. I asked the lastracer to help pull the rest of the uniform over my arms and shoulders. Hetugged and tugged and grunted.

"Noway, man," he said.

Theattendant had been watching. "This one's our biggest," she said.

Perfect.It went on as if a tailor had made it for me. The problem was that the exertionhad sent sweat Niagara Fallsing all over me. My briefs felt stuck to my buttand crotch. My baseball shirt was sticking to my pits, and my spectacles werestreaked with salty sweat.

Amale attendant came over to fit me with a do-rag and a helmet. "You're thedrive-a-long guy, right?" he said.

Wearrived at Car 29 and I slid my bulky bod through the car window. It looks realgraceful when a Jeff Gordon slips in and out, but I think there are tortoisesthat would lose their shells quicker than I squeezed and maneuvered andslithered into that passenger seat. Now I had a clear moment of revelation. Ifmy car caught fire, I hoped the men with fire extinguishers would get there fast,because I was gonna have a roasted butt before I slipped out that window in acrisis.

Infact, I couldn't get through WITH the helmet on and handed it to the attendantso I could drop on the seat. As he stomped the helmet on my head I slipped onthe spectacles, and the water off my forehead and eye sockets blurred themright away. My eyes stung and worse, I was having problems getting air and Icould feel every pulse in my body throbbing."

Hesaw I was struggling, whipped the helmet back off, and produced a cold bottleof water, which I consumed in two or three frantic sips.

Atthis point I made an executive decision. If I had heat stroke out there, or myfogged glasses failed to let me see clearly I might hit the brakes and eitherlock up or cause a pro or student driver to whack me from behind. The thoughtof causing a three or four car pileup and injuring someone else now paralyzedmy conscience. I remembered the faces of the guys in the room and thought ofthem being hurt on account of me.

Theattendant came back with the driver.

Thedriver slipped through the window in one easy swing. He was in his 30s--aboutthree-fifths my size and short with blonde hair and blond hairs on his arms.The attendant leaned in my window. He gave my straps a last tug.

"I'monly going to do the drive-along," I said. I flipped the window of myhelmet and pulled off the wet spectacles to show them. "I'm not ready forthe drive," I admitted, hating the words as they came out my mouth butknowing they were true.

"Suityourself," said Mark, slipping the steering wheel in place. "Let meknow if you change your mind."

Theattendant stood back. Mark hit the switch and we were off in the 500-horsepowermonster. The gravitational pull sucked me in, and I just kept my gaze on thetrack ahead.

Bythe first turn we were nearly at top speed, and I barely saw the green andorange marker cones, let alone the tape lane markers. The billboard ads were ablur, only the Kroger one registering with its recognizable logo. It wasground-pounding sheer speed. We passed the cars of my fellow student drivers asif they were in neutral.

Hekept the car in full throttle around every turn and took the car even faster onthe straightaway.

BeforeI knew it we were headed off the track and into the pits.

"Itwas awesome," I said to Mark. We shook hands.

Thefirst instructor was waiting for me when I tumbled out the window. Theattendant had informed him I was through for the day.

NowI saw a much nicer, concerned face on the instructor. He was disappointed forme and ready to give me any tips I needed to make my dream come through. I tookoff the helmet and showed him my wet and steamed glasses.

"Ijust don't think I can do it safely," I said.

"Allright then," he said. "I can refund your insurance to save you a fewdollars."

Ireturned the uniform to the female attendant. A lovely lady in her earlythirties stepped out. I had seen her earlier in the souvenir trailer where shesold racing shirts.

"I'msoaked," I said, pointing to my shirt.

"Thisis the second one I changed to in an hour," she said. She was blonde,cute, and had a large jewel protruding from her belly button.

"Sodid you just finish driving?" she asked.

"Justthe drive-along," I said. "It's part of my bucket list atsixty-five."

"MyDad is sixty," she said. "No way you're sixty-five."

Well,whaddya know, I thought to myself. This day hasn't been so bad after all.

"Wouldyou take a picture of me in front of that car I was in?"

"Sure,"she said.

Andshe did.

Iwalked toward the tunnel, pausing to watch an ambulance finish loading onedriver who had suffered heat stroke, causing a black flag and stopping thedrive-alones for several minutes. I couldn't be sure who had collapsed duringhis drive-alone, but either Greybeard or Chunky would be my guess. I hopedwhoever it was would be fine after emergency care.

Sometimesthe race isn't to the swiftest, I thought, but to the pragmatic.

Ipassed by the remaining members of my class now waiting for the all-clearsignal so they could take their turns. One of the drag-racing athletes steppedup who had sat next to me in class. His wife had purchased his dream ride ashis surprise birthday present.

"Howwas it?" he inquired about my drive-along.

"Aperfect bucket-list ride," I said, enjoying the thumbs-up he flashed me.

Loved my first skyjump from Greensburg Skydive

2011-07-01T23:48:00.000-04:00

And of course I am going back!!!

Indianapolis Monthly meetings

2011-06-28T06:28:00.001-04:00

Whew, not much sleep and a huge day. Had a great last photo critique, and the instructor really (in a positive way) tore into my photos and offered great, memorable suggestions for improvement. I'm glad I took the IUPUI photo class. Then had a great catchup with old friend Dave Westol, although I forgot to get decaf instead of regular dark roast and was still abuzz at 1 a.m. Just enough time to run Dogzilla and do my weights, shower, and put on a sport jacket. Breakfast has to be a boiled egg or two on the run. Huge curriculum meetings for Franklin College journalism because of industry changes. I agree. We need to make the changes. Meetings are downtown at Indy Monthly in our Statehouse digs. We'll all go to lunch. Salad as usual for me on this diet.

Hectic week

2011-06-27T10:28:00.002-04:00

Running off to gym for weights and abs. Just about have shaken cold, though residual cough requires syrup. Writing and cleaning by day, last IUPUI photo class in evening, coffee with good friend Dave Westol at 9 pm at Starbucks in Carmel.

Tomorrow, journalism and dean meetings for school all day, dentist on the 29th, and a jump from the plane on the 30th.

Hopefully, there will be a July One blog, LOL.

I mean those parachutes open nearly 100 percent of the time, right?

Skyjump countdown

2011-06-25T13:26:00.000-04:00

Ready for my first jump

a) a few pounds overweight from what I want, but strong in all limbs and heart.
b) wearing sweatpants and tee and light running shoes. They might want a jumpsuit. Fine.
c) Glasses taped and eye roped to ears.
d) attending safety session first -- will listen and ask questions
e) Plan to be in the moment all moments from plane board to retrieval.
f) Taking my buddy Ray in case I turn an ankle upon landing.

Now just getting rid of this cold and concentrating on jump

Monday Photo assignment

2011-06-25T09:05:00.001-04:00

Hoping I feel better today and this cold lets up to allow me to take pictures of some small architectural detail. Luckily I snapped two pictures Thursday while working at school. I should have snapped more. I took one of the column top and one with a student posed alongside one. Definitely not my best work.

RIP Nick Charles, one of the good guys

2011-06-25T08:59:00.003-04:00

During my sportswriting phase as a writer (1978-1993), I interviewed so many athletes, broadcasters and coaches. Broadcaster and CNN commentator Nick Charles was a really smart, pleasant man to talk with. I'm so sorry to read he passed away.

Summer Cold

2011-06-25T06:56:00.000-04:00

Sniffle, blech, hawwwwwwk. Yep, summer cold and this a busy, productive time of year, too. My old karaoke partner Tara and her boyfriend had invited me for a cookout, and I really had looked forward to catching up with them and their friends. I even had bought a nice bottle of wine for the community pitch-in. But at seven last night I just had to concede that I'd only be spreading germs and slept ten hours straight. Nothing worse than trying to open those cold packets in the morning when your nose runs, eyes water, and you spend three minutes prying the things open. Hope your day beats the heck out of mine. .)

Clearing out the Time Traps

2011-06-23T07:35:00.001-04:00

I'm writing a lesson plan draft for my summer class. It is a good refresher for me as well, especially cleaning out electronic files and organizing them.

Perhaps the most useful management skill is time management.

To save time, I've included some tips from reference books I went out to Borders and the library to get.
Your questions are in brackets.

First up is Hyrum W. Smith, a CEO.
His theory is the more productive one is, the more inner peace one feels. [Do you agree?]

1) Ultimately, a life in which you fail to control time becomes a life out of control.
2) He ties together one's governing values with time. It's a way to use time to make sure you get personal fulfillment in business and personal life.
[Make a list of your personal real core values as they apply to you and your productivity in school and/or the workforce. ]
3) What are the timewasters in your life that can contribute to a less-than-in-control you? [List? (If it is personal, list but don't send, guys)]
4) Like it or not, our behavior tells others what we seem to value and believe--even if we say it isn't the real us. [Your take?]
5) He says time management has to be grounded in reality. Where do we find ourselves falling short on goals because we unrealistically took on more projects than we had time to finish or failed to realize that our accepting of a challenge outside our skill set was going to take way more time than we had budgeted? [List--and gents, I am doing this one right along with you. I like it a lot]
OK, now we shift to time management expert Jeff Davidson.
He lists a danger sign that your time management is out of control. I'd plead guilty as charged to number one.
1) You find yourself taking work home and slaving during so-called free, family or recovery time, so you never seem to get totally refreshed. [comments?
2) He asks you to make a 24-hour honest "time trap" chart. How much time goes toward the non-traps--your work, stuff in line with your values like a sig. other or family, this assignment so you graduate--and then the traps whatever they are--checking email too often, texting, social media, TV, games, chitchat, daydreaming, whatever. [Evaluate your PAST 24-hours only honestly. Is it typical or atypical of your daily time management. Boy, did I get upset on this one. Because I ordered an interlibrary loan book that I only "sorta" needed, I wasted more than an eighth tank of gas and three hours at FC yesterday afternoon--and stopped on impulse at Kroger's and spent $40 something on things I "sorta" might need. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. [How about you?]

3) [Come up with a written plan to change behaviors related ONLY to time management. Take some time here to process and push yourself. How are you at saying NO to requests, anyway?]
4) Come up with a dollar figure for your time. Say $20 an hour or whatever. Fine yourself an approximate amount for time you wasted the last 365 days. [Total? ]
5) Have you ever tried to evaluate the quality of your sleep? Anything your doing to disturb that sleep? A drink before bedtime? Heavy meal or midnite snack? Wasted time in front of video or the tube? Again, list all but send only non-personal stuff--that goes for all this assignment]
6) Look at your home work space. Imagine you are an efficiency expert. List the things that expert would ding you for and praise you for. [List carefully and offer commentary]
7) Evaluate your computer and paper files. [Shambles or organized?
8) [Establish a game plan for returning texts, email, phone calls?]
9) Multitasking often leads to lots of balls in the air and unfinished tasks. [How many projects now unfinished did you abandon to take on something else? List. Your thoughts?]

10) Simplify your life. [What can you thin out of your house and closet now to reduce clutter and stop you from say handling a bill three times before paying or redoing an assignment for a class?]
11) [Write me time saving tips of your own invention]

PS My friend Jim Garlits just recommended this book. I plan to read the below list and consider buying the book. Hank

For more than 20 years, David Allen has been a management consultant and executive coach. Allen’s first book Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, published in 2001, became a National Bestseller. Allen has been called a personal productivity guru whose work has been featured in Fast Company, Fortune, the Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and other publications.

Getting Things Done is divided into three parts. Part 1 provides an outline for getting control of your life through the five stages of mastering workflow: collection, processing, organizing, reviewing and doing. Part 2, which is well over half the book, repeats a lot of what is said in Part 1, but provides much more detail on the application of Allen’s methodology. Part 3 explains why Allen’s methods work and the benefits to be gained from using his approach.

The entire process, including inputs, processing/thinking, and outputs (actions and action lists), is conveniently summarized in a flowchart provided in the book. Allen’s philosophy is that to be one’s most productive self, one must be able to think clearly. In order to think clearly, one must have completely downloaded from one’s short-term memory or RAM (like computer RAM) all the "open loops" -- unfulfilled commitments one has made to oneself. This frees the mind to do naturally what it does best -- think about things rather than of things. Allen gives pointers for using one’s critical thinking skills, including three methods for making decisions about what actions to take, in Chapter 9.

Once one has everything off his mind and written down, in paper or electronically, one has to decide, "What’s the next action?" This is THE critical question. Once this is decided, the action must be completed or tracked in a trusted system, such as a Personal Digital Assistant (PDA).

Allen also has a two-minute rule, which states that as one goes through their in-box and determines next actions, any next action that can be completed in two minutes or less should be completed immediately. In this way, a lot of items are touched only once and are forever cleared from "psychic RAM."

Allen outlines a process for getting RAM cleared in the first place and then for keeping it clear on a daily basis, as new things come into one’s "in" box. The "What’s the next action?" question must be asked on the front-end, when the item from the "in" box is first reviewed.

Applying Allen’s system is put forth as a way for today’s knowledge worker to have a competitive edge in the new millennium. His system is as applicable to one’s home environment and projects as it is to one’s work. He also claims it can help procrastinators.

Getting Things Done is part tools and techniques, part psychology. Allen says that mastering your time enables you to live in the present moment. This may be the true gift of this book.

Part 1 -- The Art of Getting Things Done
Chapter 1 -- A New Practice for a New Reality

With the societal shift to knowledge work, new behaviors and tools are required to successfully manage workflow. These behaviors and tools are incorporated into Allen’s methodology, the objectives of which include: first, to capture all one needs to accomplish somewhere outside the brain and second, to discipline oneself to make decisions about these items as they are added to one’s workload.

Allen states that a person is the most productive when the mind is clear, free of what he calls "open loops" -- the things people commit to do which remain undone and become a drag on the unconscious mind. He uses the analogy of RAM on a personal computer, with the idea that too much "stuff" stored in a person’s short-term memory can blow a fuse. His idea is that the conscious mind is a focusing tool, not a storage place.

In addition, one must write down the outcomes they wish to achieve. Then, for every outcome, one must determine the "next physical action" required to move the situation forward. This next physical action must be organized in a system one reviews regularly. Doing these things is the equivalent of what Allen calls "horizontal" focus.

Chapter 2 -- Getting Control of Your Life: The Five Stages of Mastering Workflow

Allen explains the five stages of mastering workflow: to collect, process, organize, review and do.

In the Collection stage, the idea is to gather all the items that remain to be completed. Collection tools include the physical in-basket, paper-based and electronic note-taking devices, voice-recording devices and email. There are three "collection success factors": 1. Every open loop must be in your collection system and out of your head. 2. You must have as few collection buckets as you can get by with. 3. You must empty them regularly.

In the Process stage, the bucket is emptied. Allen describes this as perhaps the most critical improvement for almost all the people he’s worked with. He outlines this process in great detail, complete with a flowchart. It asks:

What is it? Is it actionable?
If not, trash it, put it in a tickler file or put it in a reference file.
If so, what’s the next action? The next action is defined as the next physical, visible activity that needs to be engaged in, in order to move the current reality toward completion.
Will next action take less than 2 minutes?
If yes, do it.
If no, delegate it or defer it.
If it will take longer than 2 minutes, consider it a project (defined as requiring more than one action step) and put it in your project plans which will be reviewed for actions.

In the Organize stage, Allen describes eight categories of reminders and materials: trash, incubation tools, reference storage, list of projects, storage or files for project plans and materials, a calendar, a list of reminders of next actions, and a list of reminders of things you’re waiting for.

Allen says a Review of all one’s lists, preferably weekly, is critical for success.

Chapter 3 -- Getting Projects Creatively Under Way: The Five Phases of Project Planning

This chapter is about "vertical" focus, the thought process behind successful project planning.

Allen states that the brain goes through five steps to accomplish most any task and that this Natural Planning Model is also the most effective for project planning. These steps are:

Defining purpose and principles -- In defining purpose, one asks "why?" Answering this question provides the following benefits: it defines success, creates decision-making criteria, aligns resources, motivates, clarifies focus and expands options. Principles create the boundaries of the plan and define the criteria for excellence of behavior.
Outcome visioning -- A vision provides a picture of the final result. Allen discusses the Reticular Activating System within the brain and how it acts like a search engine. In defining the desired outcome, this filter in the brain brings to one’s attention those things that match the vision. In addition, Allen states that you won’t see how to do it until you see yourself doing it, and his advice is to view the project from beyond the completion date, envision "WILD SUCCESS", and capture features, aspects, qualities you imagine in place.
Brainstorming -- Brainstorming identifies how one gets from here to there through the generation of lots of ideas. Allen recommends writing down these ideas to help generate many new ones that might not have occurred had the brain not been emptied by writing down the original ideas. Writing ideas down also provides an anchor to keep one focused on the topic at hand. This idea of writing to spur thinking has been labeled as "distributed cognition". Keys to effective brainstorming are: don’t judge, challenge, evaluate, or criticize; go for quantity, not quality; and put analysis and organization in the background.
Organizing -- Allen describes the key steps to include: identify the significant pieces; sort by components, sequences and/or priorities; and detail to the required degree.
Identifying next actions -- Allen states that a project is sufficiently planned when every Next Action has been decided on every front that can actually be moved on without some other components having to be completed first.

Part 2 -- Practicing Stress-Free Productivity
Chapter 4 -- Getting Started: Setting Up the Time, Space and Tools

Allen recommends setting aside two whole days, back to back, to get started.

To set up a space, one needs a minimum of a writing surface and room for an in-basket. A work space is needed for work and home for everyone, including students, homemakers and retirees. Don’t skimp on the home work space and don’t share work space with someone else. Allen is not a proponent of the "hoteling" concept that many companies have employed in recent years.

The basic processing tools include paper-holding trays, plain paper, post-its, clips, stapler, a labeler all to oneself, letter size file folders (don’t bother with color-coding), a calendar, wastebasket/recycling bins, and possibly an organizer to "manage your triggers externally" (such as papers, planners or a Personal Digital Assistant (PDA)).

A good general-reference filing system is key to the success of a personal management system. If it takes one more than a minute to get something out of the in-basket, decide it needs no action but should be kept for future reference, and filed, one has a significant improvement opportunity. Key filing success factors include: keep files at hand’s reach, use one A to Z alphabetical filing system, have lots of fresh folders, keep the drawers less than three-quarters full, label folders with an Auto Labeler, buy high-quality file cabinets, get rid of hanging files if you can, and purge your files at least once a year.
Chapter 5 -- Collection: Corralling Your "Stuff"

Allen says it usually takes between one and six hours to gather everything that needs to be gathered into one’s "in" basket. It’s important to complete all the gathering before the "processing" and "organizing" begins. Although one will be tempted to start the processing while gathering, it’s important not to do so. First, it gives one a sense of just how much stuff there is. Second, the "end of the tunnel" is identified. Third, one can’t process as effectively with the distraction of knowing there is still more stuff to gather.

The gathering process should cover one’s physical space, such as desk drawers, countertops, and cabinets. It also includes a "mind sweep" to uncover anything that may be residing in one’s mental space, what Allen calls "psychic RAM".

Allen warns that one may feel anxious as all this stuff is made conscious. At the same time, he recommends going for quantity. Finally, once the collection phase is complete, he urges moving on to the next step, since leaving items in the "in" box for too long will cause things to creep back into one’s psyche.

Chapter 6 -- Processing: Getting "In" to Empty

Processing doesn’t mean getting all actions completed; it means deciding what to do with each of the items in the "in" box. When this phase is complete, one will have trashed unneeded items, completed any less-than-two-minute actions, delegated, put reminders in one’s organizer of actions one must complete, and identified any projects.

Allen provides guidelines for effective processing. First, process the top item first. Resist the urge to pull out the most urgent, fun or interesting item first. Second, process one item at a time. This focus forces the attention and decision-making needed to get through everything. Finally, never put anything back into "in."

As each item is reviewed, the key question is, "what’s the next action?" If none, the item is trashed, incubated to a "Someday/Maybe" list or "tickler" file, or put in reference material. If there is an action, make it specific. Then do it (if it takes less than two minutes), delegate it (and add it to the "Waiting For" list) or defer it.

Chapter 7 -- Organizing: Setting Up the Right Buckets

Once processing is complete, one needs a way to organize the output. Allen gives the seven primary places to keep output and tips and tricks on making these places work. These areas include: a "Projects" list, project support material, calendared actions and information, "Next Actions" lists, a "Waiting For" list, reference material, and a "Someday/Maybe" list. These categories should be kept distinct from each other. Allen states these lists are all that one needs to stay organized and advises against trying to prioritize among these lists. Instead, setting priorities is more of an intuitive process that occurs as lists are reviewed.

Actions that should go on the calendar are ones that must be done on a specific day or time. They may also include triggers for activating projects, events one might want to participate in and decision catalysts. "Next Actions" should be organized by context, such as "Calls", "Errands", and "At Home." The "Waiting For" list should be reviewed often enough to determine if one needs to take any action. Items in one’s "Read and Review" pile and emails that require action are reminders themselves, and Allen recommends pulling emails requiring action to a separate folder in one’s email system.

The "Projects" list provides a single place to review all projects for needed actions. One may subdivide projects by categories such as Personal/Professional, and one also may identify subprojects. Allen emphasizes there is no perfect way to track projects; one just needs to know what projects they have and how to find any associated reminders. Allen discusses Project Support Materials and warns against using them as a reminder. He also shares ideas for organizing ad hoc project thinking, where ideas are triggered and one needs to capture the ideas.

Allen makes the point that it is as important to organize nonactionable data -- which includes reference material and "Someday/Maybes" -- as it is to manage action and project reminders. Reference systems include general-reference filing, large-category filing, rolodexes and contact managers, and libraries and archives. Most people have 200 to 400 paper-based general-reference files and 30 to 100 e-mail reference folders.

For ideas that are not ready for action, one can keep them on a Someday/Maybe list, trigger them on one’s calendar or put them in a "tickler" system. Allen states that it is important not to call the "Hold and Review" pile one’s Someday/Maybe list.

Chapter 8 -- Reviewing: Keeping Your System Functional

To keep the system working, it is key that one continues to trust the system. Trust is maintained by keeping the system up-to-date. One needs to decide what to look at and when. Allen suggests the most frequent review will probably be of one’s daily calendar and daily tickler folder. After these, the next actions lists should be reviewed.

The key to sustaining the system is the Weekly Review. This process includes whatever is needed to empty one’s head and includes going through the five phases of workflow management. Allen recommends blocking out a couple of hours early every Friday afternoon.

Chapter 9 -- Doing: Making the Best Action Choices

Allen gives three models for deciding what to do at a point in time, beyond his simple answer to trust one’s intuition.

The Four-Criteria Model for Choosing Actions in the Moment uses the criteria of context, time available, energy available, and priority to make decisions.

The Threefold Model for Evaluating Daily Work presents Allen’s idea that during a workday, one engages in one of three activities: doing predefined work, doing work as it shows up, or defining one’s work. Allen asserts that the sacrifice of not doing the work you have defined on your lists, because something else came up, can be tolerated only if one knows what he’s not doing. People may blame their stress and lowered effectiveness on surprises when it’s really their lack of defining their work. He calls one’s ability to deal with surprise a competitive edge.

The Six-Level Model for Reviewing Your Own Work is presented in terms of altitude:

50,000 + feet: Life
40,000 feet: Three- to five-year visions
30,000 feet: One-to two-year goals
20,000 feet: Areas of responsibility
10,000 feet: Current projects
Runway: Current actions

Each of these levels should enhance and align with the levels above it. Priorities are driven from the top. However, without a sense of control over current projects and actions, trying to manage oneself from the top down can create frustration. Allen recommends starting at the bottom level, first ensuring all action lists are complete, and then working up the model.

Chapter 10 -- Getting Projects Under Control

Allen digs into the "vertical" project level again. He indicates that formal planning tools and techniques might be overrated and favors creative, proactive thinking. He suggests projects that may need more planning are first, those that still have one’s attention even after defining next actions, and second, those for which ideas just show up. The first require a revisit to the Natural Planning Model. The second require tools and structures to capture those random ideas. These may include a good writing instrument, paper, easels and whiteboards, and the computer. Allen states that the very act of writing ideas down facilitates a constructive thinking process like nothing else.

Part 3 -- The Power of the Key Principles
Chapter 11 -- The Power of the Collection Habit

In this chapter, Allen gets into the psychological aspects of his methodology, which in essence explain why his process works so well. He also discusses the benefits he has observed his clients realize over the years, including an increased level of trust with others and with oneself. He states that people feel badly about their unprocessed "in" boxes because the incomplete items in them represent broken agreements with themselves. To remedy this, he advises three choices: don’t make the agreement, complete the agreement or renegotiate the agreement.

He states that anything held only in "psychic RAM" (not conscious) will carry equal weight and many small things will create more mental stress than they deserve. He says that one should use the mind to think about things, rather than of things. He considers his methodology real knowledge work, at a more sophisticated level.

Chapter 12 -- The Power of the Next-Action Decision

Allen proposes that twenty minutes before the end of a meeting, one should ask, "So what’s the next action here?" to increase clarity. This is radical common sense, yet it is easy to avoid this more relevant level of thinking. He points out the dark side of a "collaborative culture" where people are too polite to hold others accountable, but says it is impolite to allow people to walk away from discussions unclear. Asking this question is key for knowledge workers to increase their productivity through "operational responsiveness." Finally, this question presupposes there is the possibility of change and that one can do something to make it happen, which is empowering.

Chapter 13 -- The Power of Outcome Focusing

Allen says even the slightest increase in the use of natural planning can bring significant improvement. He lauds the ability to envision success when how to achieve it is still unclear. Being able to generate lots of ideas, both good and bad, is a critical piece of creative intelligence. Honing and organizing ideas is a necessary mental discipline. Finally, choosing and taking next actions are the essence of productivity. Effectively applying these techniques is described as perhaps the major component of professional competence for the new millennium.

Bats out this morning

2011-06-23T05:57:00.000-04:00

One of the pleasures of dogwalking Dogzilla is looking up to see the diving, swooping bats of Waldron. They were wonderful to view just now.

What to do on weekend

2011-06-22T08:18:00.000-04:00

Wanting just to do something on my own to think about the structure of the book I am writing. Probably will be the grounds of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. The IMA building is beautiful, but it doesn't have as many exciting additions and creative shows that it had in the 90s when Bret was curator--I think so, anyway, but it is still one of my favorite "go think" places!

Report on the Oceans: This has to be addressed to avoid Dead Seas everywhere

2011-06-21T12:38:00.000-04:00

I wrote about this for an encyclopedia in 2001. No nation listens.

Video: Dogzilla cuts loose post-storm

2011-06-21T09:24:00.001-04:00

VIDEO: Dogzilla needed a run after being cooped up in yesterday's hailstorm. I'm feeling pretty Dadlike happy with Father's Day messages from both my wonderful boys--now men.

South Beach Diet update. Hardest part of my diet so far I managed to resist last evening. My instructor in the IUPUI photography class I took let us out a half hour late because he was helping us, and there is only one more class next week. I already had my three meals and a snack and drove by a Carmel Indian restaurant and pulled in front of the door. "You will go over your 1500 calories," I told myself. I opened the door. Now I could smell the food. Oh crap. I got out of the car, went to the door of the restaurant, turned around, came back and drove home. Temptation Number One DEFEATED. Hoo-rah. I am going to win that bet with Jim Brown over who has lost the most weight. I know it now.

We have to turn in some pix for critiques to our instructor Greg next week. I am going to turn in these portraits of friends for critique. I have so much to learn about taking photos, but I am motivated.

Dark as night at 8 a.m. Video

2011-06-20T10:38:00.000-04:00

Hail, hail.

Luckily I got the weights moved and car in the garage without damage. Trusty Rusty took the full hit, but he's so dented who'd notice? .)

Monday morning

2011-06-20T06:14:00.011-04:00

Goood morning.
Slept in an extra hour. Dogzilla will knock me down at the door unless I have a food dish in hand. Going to see if my flowers survived a denting thunderstorm. Gym through 8:45 and shower--upper body and abs on Monday morns. Hope to be writing by 9 a.m. At the school library for an interlibrary loan pickup by three, the school gym for lower body by 3:10, and in Carmel by 5:45 p.m. for the beginning photo class I'm taking at IUPUI branch. Yesterday I practiced taking pix of the same flower at 6 different times of day--dawn to dusk.

Checked email. My friend Monica in Australia is still up and joked about going to work with red cat hair on her coat. Yesterday, it took hours to de-Dogzilla black hair my carpet! He's like Pigpen in Peanuts--only dropping hair instead of dust.

What's your day like?

Ouch: severe hail and thunderstorm warning up. I'll need to put Mazda in front of garage and move weights to protect it from hail. 6:37 a.m. Nice and safe. Radar says we get hit 6:45 and the thunder rolls as I make coffee and a handful of pierogi and a boiled egg and orange wedges for breakfast.

Bailing out Dogzilla: Video

2011-06-19T15:52:00.003-04:00

Loved Louisville, the drive along Fourth Street through the historical district reminds me of Fort Wayne's historic district.

Maybe I will go there July 4 back to the bridge.
All sessions at the University of Louisville were stimulating, and I loved working with the three panelists representing Greek Life, Cadet Life, and Athletics. Grabbing a quick bite of cod and tomato and then off to bail out Dogzilla from the kennel and grab a weight session with him as my spotter. I had a gym available for two days at the Brown Hotel and haven't lost any momentum. Took one break today and watched John Sayles in Coming out of the Ice, the story of 40 year Gulag prisoner Victor Herman. It gripped my heart and still has not let it go.

VIDEO CLIP: Working as a conference speaker at the University of Louisville

2011-06-18T07:12:00.004-04:00

Staying at an historic Louisville KY establishment called the Brown Hotel. Had time for a coffee break last night and listened to soothing piano music in a lovely setting. Took an hour for my second workout of day in hotel gym late last night. Off to the University in a bad thunderstorm momentarily. This was my room.

This hotel is famous for the HOT BROWN sandwich.

Off to Louisville

2011-06-17T13:32:00.002-04:00

This quote has had special meaning this week: “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience by which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.” Eleanor Roosevelt. I'll need to read her biography soon. I've read her husband's, not hers. Off to Kentucky to work.

Truer words never spoken

2011-06-17T08:15:00.004-04:00

My friend Darnell just wrote this: "Loss is the change we least know how to adapt to, particularly in tragic situations." He always has the right words for the right situation.

Steinbeckgate. How could you do that, John Steinbeck? Well, my writer pal Hannah has a contrary view.

2011-06-17T07:13:00.004-04:00

I've read "Travels with Charley" four times at different points in my life, the last time this year. Now former Pittsburgh reporter Bill Steigerwald has published an investigative look at the supposed Steinbeck journey. Steinbeck's wife Elaine met him to stay in posh hotels 45 of the days he was supposedly camping in his truck Rocinante with his poodle Charley. The chances of him meeting the characters he had supposedly encountered like the Shakespearian actor in North Dakota were unlikely. How could Elaine have stood by and let this happen? Forget the Weiner scandal. He's a lost, egotistical cause and not worth another Twitter post. This is a real shame. How many millions of people did old John rope in with his tale of wandering America? I only know one thing. If I live to be 70 or 80 there will be no FIFTH reading of "Travels with Charley." You let us down, Mr. Steinbeck.

PS My friend Hannah disagrees totally with me. What's your view? She said this:

Oh, pshaw. It was an OK story. I got through it once.

I don't take much of what I read in this memoir crap to be literal. Frank McCourt's book was supposed to be highly exaggerated, but what a great tale, whether it was true or not.

Thoreau didn't live in spartan isolation. It just sounds like he did.

Jack London spent a couple months in Alaska, although he had some pretty crazy experiences, if you are to believe them.

Hunter Thompson sucked in general.

Then there's the whole "In Cold Blood" issue.

Lord knows what Harry Crews made up.

Now this. I assume writers are going to create their own truth in efforts to make a good story. Doesn't bother me.

H

One last thought on the Shelby County (Indiana) casino

2011-06-17T06:31:00.005-04:00

Old neighbor Big Dave stopped by with his son Ethan yesterday for a brief powwow like old times. I showed him my vandalism problem. He agreed that the casino has brought in some tough customers. "You know what else the casino has brought? Divorce," he said, ticking off a list of friends and acquaintances who have divorced or separated after taking jobs at the casino.

PS One update. Paid a friendly call to the Methodist church, and by surprise an old friend happened to be working there. They've had some issues also, and so it was good to get the topic on the table. My friend's husband loves my peaches when they are ripe, and I promised to save him as many as he wanted. I'm glad I walked over there.

Photo of Big Dave and his kids

Virtue of the Day--the tough one--smaller portions. Yep, on a diet.

2011-06-17T06:00:00.002-04:00

Well, I got myself into it by betting my old friend Jim Brown that I could slim down more than he could. We both had been jabbering about getting into our old clothes, and being that we are both competitive, a bet to motivate us seemed the right thing to do. He and I already lifted weights 4-5 times a week, but weightlifting wasn't enough to slim us down, in fact. That Ben Franklin bio I'm reading talks about moderation, but I've heard that word so often it doesn't really have the clout I need. Besides, it's abstract, and writers rely upon concrete words their readers can identify with. Anyhow, a couple weeks into the bet, here is "moderation" for me. I actually have to thank an old baseball player named Dave Dravecky who sat down for dinner with photographer Dennis Cripe, student Chase Howell and me--and went into detail about his diet, which I adapted for myself. Soda pop--gone, history. Cider--I bought cider-flavored tea instead and love it in the evening. Portions--one-third to one-half smaller than my old portions. Exercise--any combo of dog walking, weightlifting, kickboxing, stationery bike (I haven't gone back to real riding yet, but next week for sure), treadmill, running track, yard work for 500 calories a day. (Minor setback now with an infected spider bite on my foot, but it's healing fast with antibiotics and anti-staph cream). Big challenge will be eating in restaurants next few days--Dave said "no sauces, fish or shellfish mainly," and I'll keep that in mind. Dave allowed wine, but I don't--and that cuts maybe 125-250 calories right there; beer so far not allowed at all, and I never drink hard alcohol anyway. Big change has been breakfast and breads--no more meats, even my beloved chorizo; bread maybe twice a week and no buttered, jellied toast. Oh, and no snacks in the car as I drive, but slivered almonds, blueberries and strawberries on hand anytime in house within limits. Speaking of limits, no easing off on diet one or two meals a week--just counterproductive. Two quarts of water a day. Only supplement is creatine. I put Dogzilla on a healthy diet as well, and I think his butt looks smaller, though he's too big at 100 for me to lift on my scale. He's due for his shots soon, and he'll get a weigh-in then. Any other diet secrets out there? Photo--Dave Dravecky and myself (Credit Renee Kean). Me (far right) at 193 pounds talking to a Montreal Expos minor-league pitching coach(Photo by Max Aguilera Hellweg)

So why all the vandalism lately in Waldron, Indiana?

2011-06-16T19:44:00.003-04:00

This isn't a scientific study, but when the new casino went up off I-74 nearby, the local renters in Waldron licked their lips. But judging from the vandalism and the screaming kids congregating aimlessly at night on the steps of the Methodist Church, I'd love the casino to just go away. I've only been there once. Indianapolis Monthly wanted a story on Makers Mark's Lounge. I sure won't waste even a nickel on a slot machine there. And I was going to retire to this house. Now, not a chance. We're a town of 804, and no constable. The kids know the sheriff patrol from Shelby County isn't all that visible here. Not when the sheriff's department can pick up intoxicated drivers by the cellful coming out of the casino any night of the week. It's too bad. I love my yard and its fantastic array of trees and flowers. Four pop cans were thrown in it today alone from the Methodist Church loiterers.

Leaving Dogzilla/Casey

2011-06-16T19:19:00.001-04:00

Casey has his worried look on. When I bring out a leash, he ratatats his tail against the porch, knowing he has a walk coming. When I take my keys out of my pocket and jangle them, he runs straight to the back of my pickup, knowing he has a ride coming. Today he is on the back porch, and I've hauled out my yellow travel carryall, and he knows his buddy has a trip somewhere planned, and he doesn't especially like it. Yep, it's the Top Dog kennel tomorrow for ya, Buddy. Sorry.

But I am excited to be speaking in Louisville at the Brown Derby for the NACA conference on hazing prevention methods for other than fraternal organizations. After the talk, I'll preside over the panel discussion, and I know I'll learn a lot.

My Benjamin Franklin List

2011-06-16T08:21:00.001-04:00

I am rereading a biography of Benjamin Franklin. I love how he tried consciously to pick up virtue.

I am tackling one of the hardest missions I have ever attempted. I am trying to reverse the old-age inevitability of becoming a grumpy old man like the characters played by Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau in the movie.

I am getting lots of practice. For some time now my house and vehicles have been the target of harassers. This morning at 3 a.m. I heard them trying to break into my locked truck, a truck I only now lock because they've broken into it before. They got away with a video camera and tripod. They, or their ilk, broke my windshield with a rock, coated my Mazda in mustard and mustard-scrawled cuss words, took the collar off my Lab in the night, and now slam their fists into my door all hours of the night. They did this again at 3 a.m.

Yesterday, I took a close look at my phone bill. AT & T promised to close a line back in October, but the company still charged me $60 a month. The company said it was up to me to find the paperwork, because it had no record. I found the paperwork. By magic they located the error as soon as I showed them the paperwork. They were looking in the wrong phone number file. I'm getting a check for almost $600, and I held my temper.

It's a start.

A Footnote on the Bruce Ivins FBI Anthrax Case

2011-06-16T07:59:00.000-04:00

First published on the HazingPrevention.org Blog. Reprinted here.
Anthrax Suspect Bruce Ivins: “The Mirage Man”–a commentary on the new book by David Willman
Commentary by Hank Nuwer
A new book by David Willman called “The Mirage Man: Bruce Ivins, the Anthrax Attacks, and America’s Rush to War” (Bantam, $27) is one of those books people tend to talk about around the water cooler. Five people, including postal workers, died from the effects of deadly powdery anthrax sent by mail, and at least 17 persons were infected. Tom Brokaw was the most high-profile journalist sent a tainted letter.
Author David Willman did not contact me for the book, but he did contact and visit a hazing activist that anthrax researcher Bruce Ivins had written at least five times.
An FBI researcher/investigator some years ago talked to me about an excerpt from a letter to the editor in Virginia that I quoted in my book “Broken Pledges.”
A Frederick (VA) newspaper letter purportedly written by Kappa Kappa Gamma alumnus Nancy Haigwood in defense of hazing was written actually under Haigwood’s name by Ivins. That was an ethical breach by Ivins if true he signed her name to the letter, and it now appears to be so, according to Willman and others.
Willman’s book cites sources who concluded that Bruce Ivins had sent the anthrax-powdered letters to multiple victims. The Ivins connection was first announced by the FBI in 2008. You also can fetch all the anthrax FBI documents here.
I once tried to find Ms. Haigwood for an interview for her pro-hazing views (rather what Ivins falsely portrayed as her pro-hazing views) but failed. Other hazing scholars have quoted from the same letter to the editor written in Haigwood’s name by Ivins.
In the late 1980s, Kappa Kappa Gamma spokespersons I contacted said they could not for privacy reasons give me Haigwood’s last-known address from their national sorority alumnae membership roster so I could question her, but they stressed the organization’s antihazing stance and that Haigwood did not speak for the organization.
Ivins also wrote the Jimmy Flathead materal on KKG for Wikipedia, according to the FBI.
My first and only interview with the FBI (set up by my attorney friend Ben) made it clear to me as a writer that Ivins was not my source in any way, and I had no obligation to withhold any correspondence from him to a hazing activist provided to me by that hazing activist for my 1990 book “Broken Pledges” (Longstreet Press).
I now omit the name of the activist here because she retired from public life long ago and wants no media intrusion, and her name isn’t so important here.
If he had been a source I would have contacted the Poynter Institute ethics gurus for advice on that sticky issue about providing material from a source to the FBI.
The single photocopied letter to the activist dated 5/29/83 I did find in a file cabinet of mine was printed in Ivins’s odd printed script and contained the letter to the editor he had forged as an attachment.
Yes, as you can read yourself in my photo of the letter, he did write there that he was working at Fort Detrick on an anthrax project.
The FBI interviewer showed me email addresses that she said Ivins might have used to contact me in the 1990s, but none rang a bell. Was he one of a small group of email writers sending baiting, encouraging or snide letters in the 90s after “Broken Pledges” hit print? If he ever did write it was inconsequential. B ut after reading the FBI report tonight I wonder if Ivins joined a hazing listserv fom Indiana University run by my IUPUI department chair and I, although I was the prime mover here. If Ivins did join, and there may be records somewhere to corroborate, he was never a prime topic responder.
I provided the FBI via mail my thin file of Ivins material he had written to the hazing activist. To me it was interesting how an FBI researcher is so much like a news reporter. She was prepared, professional, thorough and wasted no extra time in my office. Subsequently, the FBI was given all the activist’s files and turned up five letters from Ivins, including a thank you for sending him information on sorority hazing.
Some 21 years after publication, my apologies go to Ms. Haigwood for the “Broken Pledges” reprinting of the editor to the letter that Ivins wrote. Clearly, she wasn’t an advocate of hazing. And wasn’t that nice of Ivins to forward his forged letter to a mother who had lost her son to hazing? He knew it would probably draw a response, and it did–the activist gave it to me. The activist said she had forgotten all about the Frederick letter, but I recalled it because of the interviews with KKG as I went on a failed search trying to find Haigwood to obtain original commentary for “Broken Pledges.”
I do not presume to know if Mr. Ivins was the feared anthrax mail sender or acted alone. Like many others, I wish I knew for sure. Would I love to have been the journalist who solved the anthrax crime? Yeah, Tom Brokaw and me both.
I voluntarily signed a non-disclosure letter, but the FBI agent asked if I would let the activist know an investigation was in the works. I kept that promise to not disclose anything until the files were unsealed, although really I knew so little it hardly mattered.
I wondered once if Ivins knew the FBI had talked to the activist and me, but since she and I were hardly consequential with the heat on him, I gave the matter no other thought except whenever the activist called me the few times Willman phoned or visited her for interviews.
The fixation of Ivins on Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority because of some supposed slight when he was young was strange behavior for a grown man. His hazing support was a cover for his attack on Ms. Haigwood, of course. In fact, look up hazing in the FBI report, and Ivins was all for blindfolds and limited hazing. But if the correspondence connected to hazing led the FBI to a killer I am pleased, but I’m sure the hazing connection was a mere footnote in the greater investigation, and in no way a crime solver. His support of the antihazing movement in my opinion was used for his self-serving own purposes–just as was his donation to a KKG foundation.
I can see why the results of the FBI investigation have doubters on the Internet questioning if it is indisputable that Ivins was the anthrax killer or acted alone. The FBI investigation certainly seems to have spurred the suicide of Mr. Ivins by ingestion of OTC medication, according to the new book.
I am glad the saved correspondence from Ivins helped the FBI at all–though I think the activist and I were mere footnotes in the massive biochemical attack investigation that threw the nation into a tizzy so soon after 9/11. But I think the national debate on whether he was guilty or innocent in the anthrax attacks will continue for years. This case was concluded officially and the files unsealed when Ivins killed himself. Unofficially, it will be debated by many people, especially now that Willman’s book is out.
There is a personal sad note about the anthrax story.
One of the hardest-working, nicest students I ever taught at Ball State University (1985-1989) was a national spokeswoman for the U.S. Postal Service during the anthrax mail scare aftermath in 2001.
When I guest-taught a class for her at Martin University in Indianapolis where she was an adjunct journalism instructor, she talked about how stressful it was conducting PR during the anthrax media blitz. My mentee Darlene Stafford (former resident of Dunkirk, Indiana) later died from heart failure in or near Dallas, Texas, where she had moved to join her new husband. Her mother used to attend class with Darla, and her phone call to me in 2006 with the bad news was so sad to experience.
I cannot blame Ivins directly for Ms. Stafford’s death, of course, since it occurred five years after the anthrax scare. He, if he was the anthrax sender, only caused her job stress at that time.
But given what he did to Ms. Haigwood, I can say with certainty this Dr. Ivins was one troubled, unfortunate individual. One troubled, unfortunate individual with a security clearance at Fort Detrick and access to deadly anthrax.

Old column republished

2011-06-16T07:56:00.001-04:00

Hello: here is an old column I did for my students at Franklin College. It is a tiny sliver of history about a photographer who became a part of that history. Its primary purpose is to inspire any would-be photographers aout there. Mr. Boris Yaro was an outstanding photographer for the Los Angeles Times.

Boris Yaro Interview: May 31, 2008
Conducted and edited by Hank Nuwer, Pulliam School of Journalism faculty member
Special to Franklin College and TheFranklinOnline.com

Nuwer: …Well, this will be for my students at Franklin College. That is basically the audience that you’re talking to. Could you tell me a little about how you got into photography…?
Yaro: …I grew up in Iowa…[In high school] I was a stringer for the yearbook and bought a movie camera, a Bolex H16 and began shooting film for {a] station ... in Des Moines, a CBS affiliate.
Then I moved to Los Angeles and couldn’t find a job….a lot of papers had folded and so I just started freelancing on the streets. It was very difficult to shoot—too many people [photographers] and not enough markets.
Nuwer: OK.
Yaro: Somehow I managed to survive. I started shooting a lot of stuff that was being picked up by the Los Angeles Times. Finally, they offered me a job and sent me out to the San Gabriel Valley which was where Jim [Wiggins] was the boss. While I was there we had several interesting events. I was a writer and a photographer…I never graduated from Iowa and I went back [to college] and started school at “SC” [University of Southern California]. I was working two to three jobs to support myself. That’s kind of the position I was in when I went out to the San Gabriel Valley.
Nuwer: Did you have a mentor as a photographer?
Yaro: No, not exactly. The primary really was a high school teacher named William Kacena, and he had worked on the atom bomb and was a science [and photography] teacher at Des Moines Tech [Technical] High School.
Link: Boris Yaro ‘s high school yearbook. http://www.e-yearbook.com/yearbooks/Des_Moines_Technical_High_School_Engineer_Yearbook/1955/Page_78.html
Nuwer: I see.
Yaro: I wouldn’t call him anal retentive but there is a time and a place for everything—that was his feeling. You do things right, and I learned my basics from him. So when I went into the service I really didn’t have a problem. I learned my photography in high school. When I went into the service a lot of photographers never saw a camera, A lot of people did have a problem but I didn’t have that problem. A photographer knows….
Nuwer: OK, with a lot of photographers, just like with poets [with verse], there is a kind of stamp or look to a photo. What is it you intended for a photo when time allowed and things were looking right?
Yaro: I actually made a diagram, if you will. triangular-shaped between light and dark. At the time it was all black and white—there was not much color available because
Yaro: I remember looking again for a feeling, I can’t explain it. It was like something I don’t want to say…Inbred, but the photographer knows, and I liken in fact that I learned my photography in High School.
Nuwer: Yes.
Yaro: It was part of a core area that I was enrolled in called commercial art. I think that probably played the biggest part of all.
Nuwer: Okay.
Yaro: Having an artistic feel as opposed to click and bang, and oh my and whatever. There’s some substance and there’s a photograph.
Nuwer: About the time meter, but you like to have natural light more than anything.
Yaro: That was the key, I sent an email out and it was kind of a … one of the people, to Bill Ephridge yesterday. He was one of the people who had terrific artwork.
Yaro: I really enjoyed a lot of the times life photographers, like Andre Cartier Prashon. There’s a book that he put out, and natural light is the key. One of the first editors he ever had sent him to Switzerland and told him to bring back snow that was like sugar. I never forgot that I read that thing 50 years ago. You realize, there’s more than a picture than just click.
Nuwer: Exactly, how have you adapted to the digital arena then?
Yaro: I’ll never go back to film. Some people love the unknown, and some people are good at it, I’m not one of them. I know exactly what I got on film. It was an always a big surprise if I ever got it. I know what I want and I’m sure about this is the way it’s supposed to go, but until it comes out of the soup and I see it, I don’t believe it’s going to be there.
Nuwer: Right.
Yaro: With digital you know right off hand you’ve got enough light. Maybe not enough light with digital photography its kind of sensitive to light, especially flash, and you have to be very careful. Black and white you had to do 3 stops where you could screw up in color, came down about one, one in a half stops. Digital there ain’t no forgiveness, its like slide film, screw up, you’ve screwed up.
Nuwer: Okay.
Yaro: I like digital I converted to it rather quickly, I was surprised and the first digital photography that I did the Boss wanted to screw me over to be honest with ya! Later on in my career in the second week that we had the camera another fellow looked at me and said –okay, it’s your turn. I said “wait a minute I’ve never touched that camera” it was a Cannon- I have a Nicon. I had to learn quick and on the job it did not have the little view- finder in the back . it was like a film camera.
Nuwer: Right!
Yaro: I lucked out because the assignment was kind of exotic and a dermatologist who specialized in erasing tattoos with laser . You learned to count feet, seconds, whatever else and a s I watched him Zap this guys hand again with the laser. It was like 1,2, click. Because 1,2 and then the laser went through. I made several natural light photographs with the laser supplying the only light in the …………..and then the guy wore dark goggles so that a close up shot of him with the laser was kind of exotic too.
Nuwer: I was working with a friend from the Anderson Herald doing some consulting and talking and they had a fatality at the local raceway on Saturday. Their photographer was trying to take some distance shots when what happened, there was a wreck and somebody ran out on the track and one of the drivers didn’t get the flag or the message , it is a fatality on the track. He was taking photos with regular publication (photographers) not journalists. They were shouting at him to put down his camera.
Nuwer: I understand that was something similar to what faced you when you were at the Bobby Kennedy Shooting?
Yaro: I don’t know , it was some gal , I don’t know who the hell the woman was, but after the initial shock of the shooting was over I began to take a picture, we not taking…bang, bang, band. I had Nicon F it was hard because there was no light and somebody put on a movie light and I got a long distance shot. Kennedy’s legs were toward me, head back a little bit and the light really popped it up. I got about 2 frames off , and all of a sudden I hear, “Don’t take pictures, don’t take pictures, I’m not taking pictures and I’m a photographer”! I could not believe a person was saying that to me, much less than it was happening. She grabbed a hold of my suit jacket sleeve and started pulling on it. I turned to her , goddamn, get away.
It was not some street accident where somebody got run over with a car, whatever, he was still alive. All these things played factors but I had to make that decision instantly. I’ve run into that don’t take pictures crap before. A lot of cops feel they are really about that…particularly in the South. You gotta show some respect for the dead. Well, let’s get the picture over with and we can talk about it, but if there’s no picture, there’s nothing to talk about.
Nuwer: Right, Right!
Yaro: First couple of times I experienced that professionally I went back and talked to other guys at the paper. They all said the same thing “You do what you can to do it, cause that’s what you’re supposed to do”.
Nuwer: Exactly, exactly, when you saw the time that Bill Eprage was taking shots?
Yaro: The only photographer I knew was there was Richard Drew, who works for Pasadena S tar News. He and I were friends. I worked the San Gabriel Valley edition of the times and San Gabriel is where Pasadena is so Rich and I would come across each other now and then.
I had gone out on my own (to take the shots) I got sick that night-about 5 o’clock I went to dinner early and went to “Jack in the box” (chuckles) I got a whole bunch of garbage on my lunch hour, or 40 minutes I just put everything in the world into my mouth and an hour later I had an upset stomach.
I called the office at 9 o’clock, that night I said “Hey, I really don’t feel good” They said “ You might as well go home cause you’re not gonna get anything into the paper tonight, because of the election coverage” So, I went home and took some pepto bismo, and after awhile started to feel better, and began watching the coverage on television. I said Hell, I’m gonna go down to the Ambassador and get me a picture. When I got down to the Ambassador, I ran into Drew, and after Kennedy had finished his speech I knew he was probably going back in the kitchen, because that’s where I saw him come out. So I went in the kitchen and Dick was with me. It was crowded so we hopped up, and I guess it was a freezer and open topped deal, Richard and I are sitting there and all of a sudden here he comes, I put my camera up to my eye, and Richard said “Hey Boris you missed him” but the time I put my camera to my face, he’d gone by. Richard and I hopped off and went over around to the right had side looking for an angle, keeping Kennedy off to my left, it was really dark in there, and I had not brought a flash unit because we were using bulbs then. I wasn’t using an electronic flash. I wanted natural light and I figured I ‘ll get it someplace and it was for me, not for the paper.
Then the shooting broke out, and of course things changed rapidly !
Nuwer: When the shooting actually occurred I understand that when some residue from the gun went on you?
Yaro: You’re in the Midwest, I don’t know if you ever played with firecrackers or not, but I used to a lot.
Nuwer: Right.
Yaro: We used to go down tot Missouri and buy firecrackers because t hey was illegal in Iowa. We toss them around and they spit powder at you……….I thought somebody’s throwing firecrackers in here. That was my initial thought.
Nuwer: WOW!
Yaro: I never was dreaming of a gun, these things happen quietly and within seconds it was like Moses parting the Red Sea. That’s a bad image probably. But the crowd clearly separated from the shock. Just opened up wide, people backing off, left and right. So there was just Sirhan and Kennedy.
Nuwer: I understand there were spectators hit in the legs were they not?
Yaro: In the legs, in the head, Paul Schrade was one, I don’t remember the names but there were several people hit by stray bullets. He was using a 9 shot Ira Johnson I had never herd of a 9 shot until then. But it’s a small snub nose pistol, a 22 caliber and he was shooting at Kennedy. People say “How did he get a shot in the back of the head or whatever” Bobby Kennedy bobbed and weaved like a boxer, he was not standing still for it. People think when you’re shot your standing up straight, but it’s not true.
Most people being shot at try and get the heck out of the way. And, Kennedy did that and as much as he could he backed up , he backed up but he was right there by the counter without much place to go. Sirhan kept shooting him, what he did though was that he moved it forward like a knife and pulled the trigger . And, I recall Kennedy bent at the waist and the top of his head faced forward.
Nuwer: I’m seeing it.
Yaro: And, Sirhan aiming the gun down and shooting. Later on I tried to explain it to somebody in an outfit making a so called “You are there” type of T.V. Show for the history channel. They didn’t want to hear what I had to say, they brought in a team of experts with wooden rods and they said” This is how it had to happen”. They didn’t even use my testimony…, that’s crazy!
Nuwer: Well, you stood your ground and took Bracket camera shots while others were retreating.
Yaro: NO
Nuwer: NO
Yaro: NO, I stood my ground all right I often kick myself in the rear-end, I wonder could I have stopped it?
Nuwer: Right.
Yaro: But I didn’t …I watched it all happen, after that when the shooting stopped, it was like a big pregnant pause and then people (shouting) “Get him” several people rushed Sirhan, pushed him, slammed him face down on this freezer counter and holding his arm out and banging it on the table, and the gun came loose and he was still reaching for it. I ducked in under a couple of the people who were holding him down. I didn’t want to et hit in the head and I picked up the revolver off of the counter, brought it back to me, I turned around and I’m thinking the grip on this revolver is still hot, very, very hot as if he had gripped it in his hand for 2 days.
Nuwer: Wow!
Yaro: Then Boom! The pistol was gone, out of my hand I looked around but it was dark in there, and I don’t know what the hell happened. Later, I found out that Rosy Grier had ended up with the gun, so I’m assuming he’s the one who took it from me.
Nuwer: I see.
Yaro: I know that in looking at a fire department picture made by “Hal Burba”………….Rosy is running in the right side of the picture , but he’s not looking at Sirhan, he’s looking at me, and I’m out of sight behind 2 guys. His eyes are on me and not anywhere near Sirhan. Maybe he must have made a pass at my hand grabbed the gun, kept going, immediately after that I turned around and Kennedy’s slowly sinking to the floor and Juan Romaro, the bus boy was there with him. And he kind of slid down with him and (Kennedy) was sprawled out on the floor. So, somebody put on the movie lights or they actually might have been on just before that but all of a sudden, here’s this picture just jumps out at you, there light and it’s a very dramatic shot. It was easy I made the first three frames and then I got jumped by this lady.
Nuwer: Wow, what about the picture (of yours) that actually appeared in the Los Angeles Times that first day? What number shot was that?
Yaro: That was probably, number………..(he doesn’t finish his sentence)
Yaro: I have six frames total and I would have gotten more, if I hadn’t been interrupted by this gal. Then afterwards when I finally colleted myself again there was a crowd around (Kennedy) and I got 3 frames off and I remember talking to (Steve Fontaine) that was there from the Times, he was saying “they were holding the deadline” and I worked for the papers long enough to know that was a pretty big deal. I knew I had a couple of pictures and got the heck out. The frame you’re looking at is probably #5.
Nuwer: Now when you did it at that Time, you had to develop your own shots or give it to a technician what happened?
Yaro: I called the office, I found a pay phone and I called them. They say “Get down here”! I dashed down to the paper it was a red light and siren run, without the red light and siren. When I got down to the paper, I ran into the city room and I yelled at Bill Thomas who was the city editor “I said my finger prints are all over that gun”! he said “Knock it off”, I ran back to the dark room, they said Murphy will process your film, I gave my film to Bill Murphy, William F. Murphy and he’s an author who wrote a book with another fellow called “Burn, Baby Burn” about the Watts riots. He processed it in safe light, if you know what that is?
Nuwer: Yes, Yes.
Yaro: I was sent into he city room to be debriefed. I didn’t tell the guy doing the debriefing picking up the weapon. Because Thomas said “Knock it off” I figured he wanted the paper kept out of it.
Nuwer: Any idea of a journalist covering the news not being part of it?
Yaro: You got it, exactly, and I didn’t say a word.
Nuwer: Wow!
Yaro: And all around truth! I talked to one of the detectives who worked for homicide at that time, he interviewed me on a couple of 3 occasions this is after I retired. You know Rosy didn’t take that gun, I did he said “If your comfortable with that I’m comfortable” (Laughs, laughter) just so lazidaysical
Nuwer: You had to undergo interrogation by the FBI also.
Yaro: Oh yeah, that was a cutie pie too! They came to my residence and asked me to come down and give a statement. Yeah, they took me to an office that was at that time across the street from central receiving hospital in Los Angeles, as opposed to one of the federal buildings. When I looked in the door, they already had a chart up, the name on the chart (Ken Fold?) Kennedy fold or whatever it is?
Nuwer: Oh it was a code name?
Yaro: I went into the room and they said “You’re a writer here’s a typewriter”!
I would write out stuff and they would ask questions. And they said “That sounds good”, type it up, type it up, type it up! I typed up what happened, the next time I ever heard anything about my FBI debriefing was a line in there in the full-length paper. Now, I’ve never hit a woman in my life, and if I did, I’d be too ashamed to admit it, but I never have. But they put that in so I no longer have a lot of faith in the FBI testimony.
Nuwer; Well, I know you’ve shot earthquakes, shootings, fires, watts (riots) what advise or tips would you have for my students in terms of composing shots in crisis situations?
Yaro: I think first thing is know your equipment so you don’t have to think about it. Know what you can do and what you can’t do. Learn to make do. If you’re in a situation where a flash is inappropriate , where you don’t want to give away your position or draw attention to yourself. Or where it would be disruptive. That’s by learning your equipment, uh, choice of lenses.

The Joplin reporters -- quiet heroes and heroines

2011-05-30T08:23:00.001-04:00

I had very recently been interviewed by a Joplin reporter on a Missouri high school hazing case and was impressed by his perceptive questions and analysis. I turned to the Globe today to see how the reporters had fared in that horrific tornado. I read this column by Chicago newsie Jim Slusher and wanted to reprint it here. My hat is off to those brave reporters. And I hope all get their normal lives returned to them as soon as possible. And Jim Slusher--one terrific tribute you wrote. Thanks for it.

JOPLIN, Mo. — Publisher Michael Beatty probably wasn’t surprised. I know he is proud. And I don’t even know him. Or any of the reporters, editors and photographers, pressmen, artists and drivers he is proud of.

I can’t really imagine what they’ve lived through. Not beyond the stripped-naked trees, strewn bricks and wretched devastation shown on television, YouTube and in Beatty’s own paper, The Joplin Globe.

But I have a fair idea. I’ve seen newspaper people respond to tragedy. Here’s what Beatty saw:

“It was amazing,” he wrote in a prepared statement. “These people came in who had lost their homes completely, But they were just dedicated to their jobs, to getting the story out. ... Their focus was just to get the news out for the people, in print and online, so that they would have the information they needed about where to go and what to do.”

Beatty said nearly a quarter of the Globe’s 117 employees found their homes heavily damaged or lost them altogether. Of 91 carriers, 81 showed up to deliver the newspaper.

Minutes after the tornado hit Sunday night, staffers began just showing up at the office to see what they could do. The newsroom remade the Monday edition and got it to press only about an hour late, Beatty said.

On Wednesday, Chris Wragge, co-anchor of CBS’ “Early Show,” interviewed Globe reporter Jeff Lehr, who described the 40 seconds of terror he spent crammed into a closet while the tornado destroyed his home around him.

“He came out and saw total devastation everywhere,” Wragge said in a CBS web story. “He was able to make his way to the street. There was no sign of anything. He walked for about two miles, found someone with a car and asked him, ‘Would you please take me to work? I have to start reporting on this story.’ That’s what he’s been doing ever since.”

Or, in Lehr’s words at the Globe’s website: “I have wandered eight or nine blocks and finally reach an edge of the tornado zone, where there are vehicles moving and houses with roofs still intact, even a few trees still upright in their yards. An older couple in a car pull up to their home. They are among the lucky. They ask if I’m OK. I tell them I’m one of the many who have lost their homes. I ask if they can take me to the newspaper. I have an awful job to do.”

The specifics of Lehr’s “awful job” may bear some reflection. The rock star reporters you see flying in from CNN, The New York Times and other big metropolitan organizations will sweep into town, get some dramatic footage and some compelling quotes, and then move on to the next crisis. But Lehr and his colleagues will remain, cataloging the destruction and helping their friends and neighbors find out where to get supplies and medical help, how to look for missing friends or family, how to apply for relief for their ruined business and how to prepare, God forbid, for more bad weather.

They’re chronicling the human drama of the disaster, of course, but they’re also steeped in the considerably less glamorous task of providing useful details about the practical needs of daily life. All while simultaneously trying to take care of their own battered families and property.

I know they’re not police, firefighters, doctors or nurses, all of whom no doubt are engaged in heroic efforts of their own for the people of Joplin, but I can’t help admiring the job and the dedication of the Globe’s employees — and, really, all local reporters covering disasters in their communities. So much of their reputation is scarred by ridicule for presumed political slant, typos, grammatical slips or failure to precisely capture the nuance of, say, a tax increment finance district. But the real nature of their character and their commitment is on display now, as they wade into weeks of 18- or 20-hour days, with little to look forward to but the satisfaction of helping their town in a time of need.

Yes, I’m sure Michael Beatty is proud of his staff right now. So are journalists everywhere.

Jim Slusher, jslusher@dailyherald.com, is an assistant managing editor at the Daily Herald in suburban Chicago. Find him on Facebook and Twitter.

Taking stock

2011-05-26T12:09:00.001-04:00

I do not believe in coincidences. Yet coincidences occur. I recently failed to go dog sledding in Breckinridge, Colorado, because the dogsled instruction place blew up in a natural gas explosion. Today, my jump from the Greensburg, Indiana skydiving school was cancelled because a windstorm and hail (with possible twister) tore the flight school up. I'll get another chance to jump in six weeks. I am happy the pilots and crew were unhurt.

The Writing Life

2011-05-18T07:45:00.011-04:00

Today I give the last final exam of the semester at Franklin College. It was a good semester and a sad semester. I had one of the most promising writers I've ever had in a class, and though she still needs to perfect her self-editing skills...she combines observations, details, wit and analysis with narrative as well as any writer I've taught (Note to self: must introduce Katie to longago student Hannah). I also had at least six students find their voice on paper. Numerous students already have journalism jobs--one (Aaron) is off to law school and Katie to IUPUI for grad school. One quit journalism altogether, and I support his choice. One drove me crazy with his inability to finish projects, but he's well-read and an alert thinker, and he'll find his way after he visits the Hemingway Home in Key West in a few days. (He says he's going to order a local drink that has gunpowder in it. I said it sounded dreadful, and he should beware of blowing his prostate into the Gulf--lol). Farewell, seniors and godspeed! Kudos to all the Franklin newspaper staff and all the great internships our "kids" garnered.

Grades for seniors due asap. I go skydiving in a few days. I have a Layla Lusty manuscript (it's terrific so far) and a David Carlson galleys to enjoy this weekend. Some time along the way I'll take my mutt Dogzilla for a river run and splashy romp.

But mainly I have dug in to do the final edit on my novel, and complete the nonfiction books on hazing and Kurt Vonnegut that were tough to finish during the school year. I am only teaching one course--media management--this summer, and I already have written those 10 lectures. I take one digital photography class at IUPUI one night a week. And as for social life, it's nada except for

attending my old Franklin College editor Lauren's wedding this Sunday (her parents are my friends). That marriage stuff is going around. My buddy Thelma gets hitched soon. Congrats to her, Patrick, daughter Becca and his kids! Here's a pic of Thelma in London; she now works with veterans and is a dedicated advocate for their health and well-being. You go, Bon!

News flash. I quit Facebook for now, maybe forever. Any other writers find it a delectable distraction...but a distraction all the same?

Oh, and why was it a sad semester? My mother is nearing the end as she closes in on her 92nd birthday. My friend and mentor Fraser Drew broke his hip and has slowed down his reading and writing as 98 approaches in a few days. I found that a wonderful lady with wonderful qualities and I were a bad fit overall, and I elected to return to the single life. Finally, my close friend and Shirk Hall colleague Dennis Cripe retired today. A talented photographer (see his Alaska shot of Mt McKinley from a prop plane) and a heluva teacher, he's left the Pulliam School of Journalism faculty to pursue photo dreams of his own.

I suspect when housing prices go up he'll sell his and be off to Florida or Arizona. Salud, Dennis!

Time to lift weights. I have been enjoying weightlifting in the morning and treadmill in the evening. Should be in shape by August.

A Breakfast "Nice Conversation" with Singer Kate Lamont and Writer Hank Nuwer

2010-08-03T15:52:00.000-04:00

"Yeah, a hero always beats against the current. I guess I still want to be a hero." --Kate Lamont

A Breakfast "Nice Conversation" with Singer Kate Lamont and Writer Hank Nuwer

Born in England while her father studied for his doctorate at the University of Birmingham, singer Kate Lamont came back to the States and spent her teen years in Anderson and Muncie. After 15 years singing with Hoosier bands MabLab and Blueprintmusic, she just has released “After the Traffic,” her first solo album with the online digital distribution label Audio Reconnaissance.

Nuwer: I hope this one is going to work because it's a new Marantz.
This other is my old one. You're my my first interview [on the new one].

Lamont: OK.

Nuwer: Christening it.

Lamont. All right, stereo. Whoo-whoo. Recording.

Nuwer: Let's jump right in.

Lamont: OK.

Nuwer: There's a danger in listening to music and trying to interpret it just as there is with poetry. A critic once wrote about poet Hart Crane that you could miss the whole poem by listening too closely to the lines. Having said that, I think there is a theme that runs all the way through this album. What would you say that theme was in terms of vision?

Lamont: The quote you said explains the first track entirely, because if I listen to the lyrics too carefully I don't know what it means myself. The title ["After the Traffic"] came during the recording of the very first song. You'd have to have a good stereo and good headphones to hear the background noise for Track Five. That's the only song we recorded off site. We recorded it at the Earth House Collective downtown, a 130-year-old brick German church [Lockerbie Central United Methodist Church] downtown. Well, I wrote that song half an hour before a friend's wedding because I was supposed to sing something. We recorded it and it's right in the middle of the day at East and New York downtown, so every forty seconds you have this huge slue of diesel trucks going by. My recording engineer would say, "OK, I'm ready, go," and I would say, "After the traffic?" He'd say, "Yeah, after the traffic."

Nuwer: That's neat.

Kate Lamont next plays the Chatterbox in Indianapolis on August 10, 2010
Photo by the Rev. Rebecca Craver

Lamont: That's where it came from. I heard that [conversation] when I played it back and I thought, this is the theme of the whole album. When I heard that quote I thought, well, it represents where I am after 15 years of performing and now embarking on my first solo project. After all this energy and synergy and creativity and collaboration comes this other thing that still means something.
Nuwer: Then there's old church. From oxcarts to diesel trucks going by. There's a lot of time passing in this album also, forward or backwards, and in one song, someone missing a connection by four or five years.

Lamont: That's true and maybe you did just touch on the theme there--in track three on "Adeline." I wear a class ring my grandmother gave to me. In 1922 she graduated from high school. That song is about the generational connection between me and my grandmother and then her relationship with her Aunt Adeline, which was so strong. This ring is the most fun conversation piece because it has a B in the center and everyone wants to know what the B stands for. Well, rubbed off in the top right hand corner you can almost see a 2. So it's B Square and that was their class motto. It meant be strong, be solid, be a rock.

Nuwer: That's interesting, the culture they had back then. You knew her?

Lamont: If I knew her it was as a baby; I don't remember her. But because I have such a strong connection with my grandmother I feel like I know her. I have a lot of her things. [Adeline] was like my grandmother's mentor. When my grandmother was 14 or 15 she took her on a trip with her to South America. Adeline, and what the song represents too, lost her fiancé in a boating accident. Actually, her fiancé and her brother went out on a boat and only her brother returned. She never married and she kept the same job as an accountant-bookkeeper in Philadelphia. But every year she would travel for three weeks and she went all over the world. Se took my grandmother with her when my grandmother was about 14. That spurred my grandmother's love for travel and she traveled here entire life. That in turn inspired my dad's love of travel….Likewise, I have that traveling spirit.

Nuwer: Did you write all the songs on this album?

Lamont: Oh, yes, yes.

Nuwer: What was the time frame in which they were written?

Lamont: Pretty much within the last two years. I had a son in 2005 and while I didn’t quit doing music—in fact the Blueprint heyday for my music was after he was born—but your life changes really drastically.

Nuwer: Sure.

Lamont: I started playing piano a lot more. I started teaching piano. That really changed my view of myself as a piano player. I’ve always put more stock in my voice. But when I started teaching small children, they made me a better player.

Nuwer: Because they asked questions you didn’t think of?

Lamont: Yeah, but kind of pounding those basics back in my brain reminded me that I did know everything I needed to know fundamentally. I used to give myself a hard time: you know, you’re not that great of a piano player because I didn’t excel at sight reading. Pounding those basics back into my brain made me know that I knew what I needed to know fundamentally…to be a good piano player. I just got better, and that’s when I started writing these songs on the piano.

Nuwer: Your album reminded me of spiritual or churchlike music. Which is interesting because of your connection with the church.

Lamont: Well, I’ve spent the last two years at this church as a founding member of the Earth House Collective. The Vonnegut connection is huge with us…We’re all big fans because of his connection to theology. Last year’s service was really great. I did a bunch of music for that. Yeah, I’m glad [the church sound] comes through, but it wasn’t intentional to make this album sound like gospel or like a church. I like the fact that it’s coming through naturally.

Nuwer: [In the album] there are so many lines that are so poetic, so literary.

Lamont: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. "Warm bodies, crushed dried leaves, were gathered like children under heaven."

Nuwer: It's all metaphor. "The voice of God--

Lamont: "The voice of God comes sometimes when I listen to the people who breathe music like it's oxygen."

[Conversation goes off track to a time when Lamont and Nuwer were part of the same Kurt Vonnegut memorial celebration, him reading and lecturing and her singing].

Nuwer: Where did you go to college?

Lamont: I went to Ball State for architecture for two years. I joined a band the summer after my freshman year. I loved [architecture, I adored it, but I joined a band and just couldn’t go back.

Nuwer: But architecture is so creative.

Lamont: Architecture gave me that first year an understanding of composition that transferred to music like butter on toast. It shaped my songwriting.

Nuwer: If your music were a single building, what would it be? A cathedral?

Lamont: I hope it would be like the Guggenheim, always growing as it goes up. It’s a fabulous building. I’m constantly evolving.

Nuwer: You’re a born storyteller and you also love the first-person—the number of times the word I appears.

Lamont (laughter): You could also say I’m self-centered. I like how you said that. Next time I’m feeling self absorbed I’ll say, “It’s just that I have an affinity for the first-person.”

Nuwer: (laughter) There is no more grassroots coming up in the music world. Cliché and the banal seem to rule our lives.

Lamont: That’s what my music is about. It’s a reaction to the state of everything—the music business, the corporate world. It’s all the same.

Nuwer: Part of a culture? Do you suffocate and go along with it or beat against the current with your oars?

Lamont: The hero always beats against the current. I guess I still want to be a hero.

Nuwer: I like the purity of someone alone listening to music or reading a book at night—a one-to-one connection of an artist creating and someone actually being moved by the creation of your words.

Lamont: Kurt Vonnegut is a great example. When you read Vonnegut you don’t see him with chest out, chin up, a leader of the revolution. He’s an everyday man, slumped with his Pall Mall and coffee, talking to you like he’s just sitting across the table from you. Musically speaking, that’s what moves people too. Eric Brown gave me a compliment on this album. He said, “When you listen you can’t help thinking she’s speaking to you or for you.”

[Lamont says something about NPR on end of tape that is unintelligible.]

Nuwer: Disappointed with NPR? Especially with the news?

Lamont: Yes, and it's not that I don't think they have some good programs on NPR, and certainly it's the best mainstream news there is. But for me, I realized it is still a mainstream news source. It's like going to church on Sunday and thinking that's what Christianity is about. Feeling good about listening to NPR because it's the best news source out there for getting the story? Well, guess what folks, it's still not getting you the story. If you want something a little closer [to true news] and you have a satellite you can get Link TV. They actually give you programming from the Middle East and all around the world. The problem is that NPR still has that American filter.

Nuwer: In my investigative journalism class [Franklin College] we use Open Secrets to look at political donations. Look at it sometime and see who from NPR is donating to which political parties. And they are supposed to be objective?

Lamont: It's not really "public" radio.

Nuwer: Well, let's talk a little about music and marketing. Going back to Adam Smith, you can be a manufacturer making the best hand-produced pins but [consumers] are going to buy mass produced pins, not perfect pins. Whether it is music or books, the industries are all about mass production now.

Lamont: For me that's no different than the flow of American culture and why were backwards. It's no mystery to me how we got buried under all these layers. Honestly, the marketing piece of the puzzle is not something I'm interested in. Right after I had my son I came to these huge realizations that motherhood or parenthood teaches you what you didn't know before but needed to know to get things done. But now you know what you need to do to get things done, but now you have this huge responsibility and time commitment to someone else. So you do learn how to be more efficient, how to get things done quicker, because you've only got 30 minutes to get it done. I feel like I've gotten a hundred times better at all these things but it is still a juggling act to try to promote yourself.

Nuwer: You take a [musical gospel] group like the Gaithers up near Anderson and they are so good at self promotion.

Lamont: They are. Frankly, the kind of music I write doesn't really sit well with being great at promotion. The two aren't necessarily married. I guess my point is that Eric Brown--who I still play with on a group called Mab Lab --he started an online digital distribution label called Audio Reconnaissance. My album is being released through him. He has distribution outlets all of his channels go through and you can also buy them through Rhapsody, Amazon, I-Tunes, and all the online music distribution sites. That's the label I'm putting [the album] out on. So whether it's your new book or my music, things have changed and we have to adapt to new marketing. We have to learn from the past but we also must do something completely different. Things aren't always obvious. I feel like it's taken me like seven or eight years to accept that I was in the end of an era. When I first started performing there were shows where there were A & R reps from BMI. We'd have conversations with these people afterwards. They thought we were great, but then they were going back home to their jobs and getting fired the next day. People were moving around and the music industry was on fire. It took me a long time to realize that the musicians who had quote-unquote made it in the way we wanted to make it by making a living playing music --well that world no longer exists in the way we saw it.

Nuwer: Now there is instant success through American Idol. It isn't a grassroots coming up. It's the cliché about new books that bothers me whether it's a series like Twilight or one on vampires. Clichés rule our lives.

Lamont: That's what my music is about. It's a reaction to the state of everything. The state of the music business. The state of the corporate world. It's all the same issue.

Nuwer: So do you go along with it or beat against a current with your oars?

Lamont: Yeah, a hero always beats against the current. I guess I still want to be a hero. There are a lot of heroes. I used to be cynical.

Nuwer: You weren't cynical?

Lamont: Oh, yes, I was. Maybe it didn't show in the music but I was for quite some time. Yeah, I think so. But I realized there is no future in cynicism.

Nuwer: Especially if you have a kid.

Lamont: That's why I feel every single human still has that power to go against the grain. We thought we felt that with the Obama campaign. A lot of people got real excited about this idea that we can stand up and have a voice. Now let us not get into the politics and what is really going on now, but that is a fact….People still have the power. They're just not using it.
Nuwer: I like the purity of someone listening to your music at night or reading a book all alone--a one-on-one connection--between the artist's creation and someone actually being moved by it. Take [the late] Kurt Vonnegut as an example, where he actually moved people with his words.
Lamont: Vonnegut is a great example. When you read Vonnegut you don't see Vonnegut with his chest out, chin up, leader-of-the-revolution type. You see him sitting back, an everyday type of man, slumped, with his Pall Malls and his coffee as if he were sitting across the table from you. Musically speaking, that's what moves people too, I think. When it feels like a conversation. Eric gave me a compliment on my album. Said that when you finish this album you can't help but think she's singing to you or for you.

Nuwer: This was perfect for a friend of mine who listened to the album yesterday after her stepmom died. She was so moved by it.

Lamont: I tell you I want to get into the funeral music business.

Nuwer: When you think of it, so many great compositions were written for funerals.

Lamont: Yeah, ok, well it's almost as if in this life, this culture, where no emotion is allowed for everyday stuff, we're still allowed to show emotion during times of death and birth. And even with birth, we've taken all ceremony out of that. But yeah, death--someone dies and that's the saddest thing anybody's ever heard. Take the guy who flew off the luge during the Olympics. That's all anybody could talk about was how sad that was. I'm quirky. I didn't think it was sad. The guy died doing what he loved, and he died instantly. What's sad about that? To me, nothing. But there is that notion that we're allowed to have that feeling emotionally and collectively as a people to express certain things still.

Nuwer: He [Nodar Kumaritashvil] knew all the risks, as did I when I went bullriding four years ago.

Hank Nuwer riding on the bull, Celina, Ohio rodeo

Lamont: Oh, wow. I'm trying to think of anything I've done that is remotely as crazy as that. I jumped off a cliff once.

Nuwer: You did?

Lamont: Yeah. Into a quarry. Into water, outside of Muncie. It was 40 feet, which doesn't sound like a lot--

Nuwer: --Did you do it alone or?

Lamont: No, there were tons of idiotic college students there.

Nuwer: So, what was the feeling as you went down? Amazing?

Lamont: Yeah, it was great until my ass smacked the water at a bad angle.

Nuwer: Oh, no. Could have been a belly flop.

Lamont: I started straight and I went in at an angle. That may have been the craziest thing I've ever done.

Nuwer: What about your job at Earth House Collective? I read its goal is reaching peace, wellness and culture?

Lamont: To be more specific, it's developed into an organization that hopes to provide space for people who are trying to listen to "that" voice. Who are trying to shed layers. Who are trying to do something outside nine-to-five…

Nuwer: Who are trying to do something as traffic passes?

Lamont: Yeah, exactly. I think that sometimes just as protesting war gets into an anti-soldier conversation, I think there's very much a spirit of that in this cultural problem we have, too. When you protest against a corporation or protest the system, people feel you're attacking the nine-to-five worker. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. I think my music and Earth House and everything I'm involved with and my close friends are involved with is all about liberating people.
Nuwer: But now were back to capitalism and getting the maximum amount of profits whether it's the music industry, a book company or Bill Gates. The way you maximize profits is to get people at the bottom to get the lowest amount of compensation unless you also want those people to buy your products.

Lamont: Well, it works.

Nuwer: Capitalism?

Lamont: Oh, yeah, capitalism works well. It's a well-oiled machine. But it's not about being Democrat or Republican, it's about self expression.

Nuwer: That's what it was supposed to be about in the 1960s. I covered Woodstock as a reporter.

Lamont: Nice. But just like any movement, there are things that get tagged on. Like "Oh, that was just a drug-induced whatever." Well, that was tagged on. Yeah, I think it is our responsibility to go against the grain. Usually the current is not where it's good for the people. It would be nice if it was.

Nuwer: It's so interesting how we've never had so much communication in terms of email, Facebook. People walk out of a class and their hands go automatically to a phone.

Lamont: Well, I don't think you can call all that communication. I think we need a different word. Seriously, we need a different word because it's not communication. I don't know what the word is, but it's not the same word communication. We have to come up with a new word for whatever this technological thingie is. Communication has gone way down since all of this has come about. People are working on their laptops during a meeting, on their I-Phone, which is a computer, a full work station. I mean, email started when I got to college, and now I do have a cell phone, though I didn't have one the whole time I was pregnant with my son, right up to the point he was three-and-a-half or four. Texting I actually like because you don't have to get on the phone. Even with texting you're missing something. Someone is trying to talk with you and you're trying to write. It's distraction, not communication.

Nuwer: Maybe that's the word we're looking for--distractification.

Lamont: Distractification?

Nuwer: Distractification.

Lamont: All this new-fangled distractification. Sounds like a hip-hop lyric.

Nuwer: Well, how should we end? Do you want to ask yourself a question?

Lamont: Hey [Kate], how do you feel you did in this interview? Well, I think I did pretty well. I had a real nice time talking to Hank. I stopped thinking about what was the right thing to say or how to market the album, or how to make myself sound cool, and I just had a nice conversation over some coffee with white sugar.

Nuwer: With Jesus looking on--in velvet.

Lamont [looking up at a velvet painting to her right] Oh, we have a blond Jesus on velvet. Walking on water.

A small portion of this interview appeared in the May 2010 Indianapolis Monthly.

Happy St. Dionysius Day

2010-02-14T08:07:00.000-05:00

Happy St. Dionysus Day!!!

Let everyone else celebrate St. Valentine's Day like a bunch of sheep. Let us give our whoop and holler today to good old St. Dionysus and Ammonius. Let's lose our heads for five minutes with a big cheer in their honor!!

St. Dionysius
Feastday: February 14

Martyr of Egypt with Ammonius. They were beheaded in Alexandria.

Take your heart and take a walk, St. Valentine's. My heart is with Dionysus. Hank

Hank Nuwer Starting a Writer's Quotation Page

2009-11-27T06:39:00.000-05:00

Quotations for Writers

Quotations for Writers

"As a writer you one day find your body in excruciating pain and that is when you reach a point where you count the remaining seconds of life and intensely poke each second like gold in a pan. What you spill when you sift can never be regained." --Hank Nuwer, November 26, 2009.

"Writing only when you find a muse is practicing self-deception if you truly are a writer. It's like calling yourself a husband or wife if you treat your Muse like a one-night stand. You have to give (not just take) your all on good days and bad, and at the end of life maybe, just maybe, you can say you and that Muse had one heluva good satisfying marriage." --Hank Nuwer

"Here is one writer's version of Black Friday. You read and think because you're always shopping for ideas. You spend and spend all your energy. You love a sale but you can't be for sale. You reach here and there to touch the merchandise of life." --Hank Nuwer, Black Friday, November 2009.

"On writing a novel. Sometimes the words go on the page with a firehose. Sometimes they dribble onto the page like water through a sluice in a drought. Get the words down. Use dialog often to advance the plot. Hear the voices of your characters in your head. Complicate their lives. Repeat often." --Hank Nuwer, November 22, 2009

"Get into the reality of your characters' lives as best you can when writing a historical novel. My novel is about two Basque herders. I am having bread crusts in boiled milk, beans, and a bit of left-over lamb for breakfast. The meal transports me to 1899 Nevada south of Jiggs, NV. Food can jumpstart your chapter as you digest it." Hank Nuwer, November 20, 2009

"Daily writing gives me 2-3 hours of being alive. It's like trampolining while that trampoline is surrounded by hot stones and hot coals. Enjoy the lift and the heat but don't fall off and be consumed." --Hank Nuwer, November 20, 2009.

Happy Anniversary, Paris Review

2009-11-12T05:51:00.001-05:00

Discovered The Paris Review in 1968 and am still a fan. Happy
50th, Ms Paree! Highlight for me is its interviews with authors. I once interviewed PR editor George Plimpton in his office. His bathroom had hundreds of pictures of himself on the walls. Guess that was better than another friend's bathroom who papered the walls with rejection slips. Loved this review!

Fisticuffs in the Washington Post

2009-11-12T04:49:00.000-05:00

Veteran newshounds weren't surprised when one news guy punched another in the hallowed halls of the Washington Post.

I mean, journalism has a lot of fighting terms.

Stories are keyed into the sytem with a SLUG, for example!

We cover stories like education or cops by going on a BEAT.

In our stories, we separate key facts or a list with a BULLET.

Then, of course, we KILL a story with a SPIKE.

And saddest of all, copy editors go crazy if they let a WIDOW slip into the paper.

Oral B, Oral B -- The Terrible Toothbrush Saga Continues

2009-11-12T04:42:00.000-05:00

To catch you up, gentle reader, I bought an Oral B toothbrush whose bristles fell out everywhere upon first brushing. I just woke up and I stil have more to get out between the molars. Yuk. So here's a poem and then a parody song to the Oral B makers!

When bristles fall like pine needles.
Oral B needs an ad campaign that wheedles.
For when bristles lodge in one's back teeth
You have to pick at your gums to get beneath.
... Read More
Song refrain:

As the blackbird in the spring
'neath the willow tree

Sat and piped
I heard him sing
cussing Oral B.
Oral B! Oral B! Made with flimsy hair

Brushing with thee makes me swallow bristles everywhere.

If you don't get "Aura Lee" click here. LOL

This has a happy ending. Oral B wrote a nice letter.

Hi Hank,

Thanks for contacting Oral-B.

Our goal is to produce high quality products that consistently delight our consumers and I'm sorry this wasn't your experience with our Oral B Advantage toothbrush. What you are describing is unusual, we would not expect this. All of our products go through numerous quality checks.

Please be assured I'm sharing your comments with the rest of our team.

Since your satisfaction means a great deal to us, I'm sending compensation by postal mail. You should receive my letter within the next 2-3 weeks.

Thanks again for writing
.
Laure
Oral-B Team

My dog

2009-11-11T23:02:00.001-05:00

My dog has one time when he is a pain. It is when I prepare to go on a trip and pack my suitcase, a sort-of oversized backpack. He scoots under my feet, puts on a miserable face, gets licky and obnoxious, and has to be put outside.

This rarely happens

2009-11-11T22:54:00.000-05:00

John Steinbeck in Travels with Charlie wrote that he was worried about being recognized when he set off in truck with his trusty poodle beside him. He never was. Today one of the very few times I was recognized by a stranger, a Kroger checkout woman, and it was because of an ESPN show she saw. It's happened 3-4 times at an airport, once on an elevator, once by a policeman who helped me after an auto accident, once on a plane, and once on a street. It's a very strange feeling when that happens.

Oral-B - No mas

2009-11-11T22:52:00.000-05:00

Bought a new Oral-B Advantage toothbrush today and on first brushing a bunch of bristles fell out. In all the years of brushing I never had this happen. Definitely switching brands.

On road in Bloomington, Indiana: Steak 'n Shake

2009-11-11T07:25:00.000-05:00

Two employees at the Steak 'n Shake at breakfast decided to win a Betty Boop doll in that glass tank filled with stuffed animals. The first (Bobby by tag) lowered his hourly wage by a buck with two tries. The other, George Brooks, nabbed the doll on first try. "George stole Betty away from me," complained Bobby.

Review: Tasty breakfast. Super service. Superior entertainment. Thanks, Gents. A lot of fun and a little good food made my morning perfect.

Then I gave a talk at Indiana University in a sports and violence class & loved the students and their prof.

Ex-Ball Sate Journalism Dean Earl Conn Dies

2009-09-20T19:37:00.001-04:00

Longtime friend Earl Conn of Ball State University journalism fame died over the weekend. Last time I saw him was three weeks ago. He put his arm around me to joke that he thought I had "mellowed" since working for him 1985-1989. He was a good guy, an always fair boss, and became an author in his older years. Rest in peace, Earl.

2009-08-23T17:19:00.001-04:00

Planning ahead with free campgrounds

2009-08-23T07:36:00.000-04:00

I'll be using this spot as a starting place. The goal is to make this research trip as economical as possible.

Here are some of the places I'll stay in Ely, NV. for example.

Montana reservations for backcountry tent camping

A Good Habit Renewed

2009-08-22T09:00:00.000-04:00

Lately I've added by the clock 60 minutes to read each day. To do so, I made a pact with myself to check email twice a day, and if that works...maybe once a day. I've been returning to John Steinbeck and Thomas Pynchon lately, their voices as familiar to me as an old roommate's throaty chuckle.

The Best Bet I Ever Made

2009-08-21T17:37:00.000-04:00

It was the 1960 World Series and the first and darn near only sports bet I've ever made other than the odd buck here and there to please a friend. I was all of one month into settling in as a high school seminarian, and I was about the most baseball-mad kid you could imagine. I went weekly to Novak's Drugstore to curl up on the floor with each week's new issue of The Sporting News. I even found a used bookstore that had boxes of old scorecards and baseball annuals, and I bought near everything in sight. I started working when I was 10 or 11 for a caterer, making mashed potatoes with real potatoes and cream and butter, then busing tables all night after a wedding.

Even so, I'd only saved about $20 by that October of 1960, and unknown to me, I was about to blow it all.

A classmate before the Series started offered me even odds on the Pittsburgh Pirates v. my New York Yankees. Did I hear right? The Yankees had 18 championships, the Bucs a miserable two. During the 1950s the Bucs were about as pathetic most years as the Phils.

So I took the bet. Yeah, for $20. I sweated a little in Game One when Bill Mazeroski clubbed a home run to defeat my beloved Yanks. But in Games Two and Three the Yankees and the Murderer's Row of Maris (The Rajah's first year!), Mantle, Berra and Skowron positively shellacked the Pittsburgh pretenders.

Somehow it came down to Game Seven. A stocky perennial minor leaguer named Rocky Nelson (whose autograph I had obtained in 1958 outside the Toronto dressing room when he was the best slugger bar none in the International League) managed to hit a home run right off. I saw Nelson at his strange butt-outhanging batting stance at the seminary on a lounge TV, grabbed my two buses home, and sat down on the couch by the eighth inning at my house with the Yankees ahead 7-4.

What would I do with that $20? Buy a better baseball glove? Get a pair of sneakers that fit? Go on a splurge and tear with all the Nehi I could drink for three months? Oh, I was fantasizing, you bet.

But that eighth inning went wrong fast. A blistering ground ball to Tony Kubek of the Yanks with a man on first took a nutsy hop and landed in his Adam's apple (One of my teammates at St. John Gualbert's named Ron Kaminski had lost a tooth on a similar bad bounce at Cheektowaga's Town Park) and the double play was blown. The Pirates rallied and a journeyman named Hal Smith topped off the rally with a home run to bring the score to 9-7.

Oh yeah, I was sweating bullets. But my Yanks came through. They chipped away in the ninth and tied the score 9-9. No pitching contest this.

So the bottom of the ninth came up, and I'm praying for extra innings. But it was not to be. Just as I can replay every game in my mind I played in over the years as an amateur, I can see that ninth from the viewpoint of my mother's threadbare maroon couch with her wedding pic on wall and Jesus on another and our black-and-white Admiral TV with the rabbit ears flickering on and off.

I watched Ralph Terry pitch the ball and that scoundrel Bill Mazeroski tag it way over Yogi Berra (in left instead of catching). Yogi put down his head. That ball had some steam, and then Maz went nuts around the basepaths as did his teammates (possibly to teach me the evils of gambling--lol).

The phone rang. It was Obie, the fellow seminarian I'd bet against. My mom, hearing a phone call, listened to every word.

He had his minute of gloating and then I was off to my piggy bank to slide dollars and pennies out of the slot with a butter knife.

"Happy now?" my mom said. She always had to have two words, never just the last.

I could shake the bank after that $20, and it hardly made a sound.

After that "sure thing" failed, I've never again been tempted to be a sports better.

That's why I say, it was the best bet I ever made.

Dang you, Bill Mazerowski.

Thank you, Bill

Stuff I have that I wish I did not have

2009-08-21T15:53:00.000-04:00

1) Internet account with TDS, poor phone service and expensive. Slow Internet, too.

2) Subscription to Time Magazine (No longer like to read it much. Prefer Slate online)

3) a carpet in kitchen (Got to put in linoleum this fall.)

4) Rust on my truck (new nickname is Trusty Rusty)

5) Bumper stickers on my truck ("Hey, Aileen, guess where that guy in the rusted truck went to school? Let's not send Johnny there.")

6) A gasoline mower. I only use the old-fashioned push mower. Feels like a good workout and wastes no fuel.

7) Neighbors who let dogs run wild all the time. And their names are Boo and Zeus. The dogs, not the neighbors.

8) Bats by the thousand flitting all around in the evening as I take last walk of day.

9) Two briefcases. Always just use knapsacks. The briefcases just sit on a shelf.

10) Pictures and junk on my fridge. Keep vowing to have a clean fridge door but then I get another "Look what I made at school" and just plop it next to the others.

Cutting to the chase: what to take in two pieces of luggage

2009-08-21T15:24:00.000-04:00

Well, the plane ticket is purchased to Bozeman, and all is lined up for a research trip out west as far as Reno (University of Nevada Basque Studies).

I need all of the following but here is what I decided--leaving out some of what I wanted to take.

Take with me

Two large travel packs with wheels.

Tent

4 tee shirts, one khaki, one jeans, underwear and socks.
Shaving kit, all with those tiny bottles under 4 oz.
100 percent Deet (Alaska perfume as they say)
One book to read: think it will be Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon
Stationery and stamps
Poncho
Coat that comes apart in layers
Hooded sweatshirt
bandanas
running shoes (wearing the Frye boots)
Minimal fishing gear
Frypan, small pot, outdoor cook book
Knives, forks, two plates, canteen
binoculars and digital camera and pocket recorder
Macbook Pro computer; thin travel alarm
address book
aspirin; ibuprofen
baseball cap
bedroll with survival blanket (folds small)
towel and washcloth and sliver of soap
pens, stickies
atlas and (on computer) detailed area maps.
flashlights
Cache stuff for food (no bear magnets)
recharger for phone; spare batteries for recorders, camera
bird book identification if room (hope so)
sleeping bag (it's 8 pounds--but temps will hit 28-35 at nite)
plastic measuring cup for oatmeal and other cooking needs

Mapped list of libraries for Internet access
Like so
plastic coffee filter and paper filters
nut cracker
small stake hammer

WHAT AM I MISSING, CAMPERS?????

On the Bubble

two deflatable 15-pound hand weights
lightweight stetson hat

No Take

Notebooks: Will buy a half-dozen in Livingston, MT and mail them home as I finish them.

Inflatable mattress: Nope, going to sleep on the poncho.

Labrador retriever (almost drove all the way to Montana with him but feared not being able to find kennels along the way).

Hotel reservations. camping all the way

Video camera (reluctantly leaving for space)

Waterproof matches or lighter: buy there

Shopping list when I get to Montana

10 cans sardines and tuna
Large tin of ground coffee
bag of pinto beans
red potato bag
rice bag
apple bag
oranges
lemon juice
rolled oats
walnut bag
bottled waters
teabags
powdered eggs
powdered milk
raisins

outdoor store
bear spray
license for fishing

What am I missing? Got a few days to figure out. Still, bet I forget something I'll need.

Things I Quit Doing

2009-08-21T07:06:00.000-04:00

Visited a buddy yesterday who had a complicated puzzle spread out on a card table.

Made me ponder this morning what I used to do and don't do any more. What about you? Do you have a similar list?

1) Puzzles. I have a box of gift puzzles, so I know family members were aware I used to relax with these. Guess it's no fun to do alone. Liked it when my now-grown boys played.

2) Playing with my 1950 Lionel train. Must do this for Xmas 2009. Last time was when youngest son was 16.

3) Crossword puzzles. Rather read on a plane. Used to love them as a teen.

4) Reading Esquire magazine. Not as clever as it once was or I have changed. Still read Sports Illustrated. Hate Time's opinion-heavy issues these days. Won't renew. Love Buffalo Spree for nostalgia and Indianapolis Monthly and Nuvo because I like going to theatre every so often.

5) Writing for lots of magazines. Have gotten very selective.

6) Reading Thomas Pynchon. Gravity's Rainbow drove me away. Going to read his latest because my friend Ben says he's good.

7) Eating junk food. Once in a while I just gotta have those Arctic bars.

8) Going to neighborhood tavern. I live in Waldron. What neighborhood tavern? I do have a couple on rare trips to Chicago, but that's been a long time ago.

9) Going to an old-fashioned barber. Dying breed.

10) Going to zoos. Still go to aquariums, however.

11) Drinking non-alcoholic beer and decaf coffee. Rather do moderation on the real stuff.

12) Birthday cake. Mom got elderly, then sick.

13) Baseball batting cage. Prefer playing batting practice with my neighbors in huge vacant lot.

14) Listening to Jazz. Going to have to remedy that soon.

15) Going to the family farm. Aunt put it up for sale and it just makes me sad to go.

16) Shooting a rifle at cans. Moved from the west to relatively crowded Midwest.

17) Doodling. Wonder why?

18) Carving a stick with my buck knife. After forgetting to take out best knife at an airport and having empty envelope waiting for me I stopped carrying pen knives.

19) Riding my bike. Nutsy drivers and nasty dogs.

How about you?

Born August 19, 1946? Me too

2009-08-18T10:48:00.000-04:00

August 19, 2009

On Aug. 19, 1946 I (Hank Nuwer) turn 63, as does William Jefferson Clinton and NASA administrator Charles Frank "Charlie" Bolden, Jr. Swiss conductor Beat Raaflaub; 1968 Boston Marathon winner Ambrose (Amby) Joel Burfoot; Green Bay Packer lineman Freddy Carr; Azymuth bass player Alex Malheiros (born Niteroi, Brazil); Cincinnati Bengals center Bob Johnson (his #54 was only one retired); and Boston Bruins left wing Rod Graham (1974-1975).

--Then there’s cinematographer Randall Robinson who survived that infamous helicopter crash on set for director John Landis.
--There’s the noted Bulgarian graphic artist Ivan Ninov.
--There’s the great Tennessee State long jumper Martha Watson. She also represented USA in the 1972 Olympics in the 400 m relay.
--There’s a New York City fire captain named John Michael Kostynick.
-- Dead is the late TV network exec and producer (Top Gun, Fatal Attraction) Dawn Steel (born Dawn Spielberg, died of cancer 1997).
-- There’s the late Coach Dennis Garth Stone, a high school coach in Kansas for 33 years for the Goodland Cowboys. New York Giant Mike Friede played linebacker for him. He passed away January 9, 2008.
--There’s the late outdoorsman Stanley Grell who operated Artic Char Lodge, northernmost hunting lodge in the Arctic.
--Armando Albarran was a respected pilot with the 173rd Airborne.
--The late Eugene "Blair" Conrad Jr., was the city of Dayton's director of aviation.
--There’s the renowned pianist and composer Frédéric Meinders from the Hague, Holland.
--John Anthony is the son of child star Jackie Cooper.
--And let us not forget Australia cricket star Daniel McEvoy.
--I’m sure your remember Luis Barrancos Alvarez, soccer referee in Spain during the 1982 FIFA World Cup.
--If you live in Austria you were familiar with the name of Hans Maximillion Ferlitsch, Municipality Association President and Mayor of St. Stefan, Austria (1993-2003)

And though he's too young to make the list, Happy Birthday, Werty

Great Sports in Royal Center, Indiana

2009-06-10T13:54:00.000-04:00

All--My friend Garry Williams manages the Town and Country team in Royal Center, a small town near Logansport, IN. Thought you might like a story that makes you feel good about youth sports!!

This story will appear in the Logansport (IN) newspaper. Congrats to both Champion Teams

TRUE CHAMPIONS

      A remarkable thing happened Tuesday night at Royal Center’s Rea Park. Two baseball teams won a single game that ended in a score of 5-0.

      The 9- and 10-year-old tourney championship was in the 6th and final inning. All the Dye Lumber boys had to do was hold on to a five run lead. But with the first pitch of the inning, the Dye Lumber coach realized he had broken a five-inning limit for his starting pitcher. The game was declared a forfeit. The Town & Country Embroidery team, five runs behind, had won.

      But after the trophies were handed out – first place for Town & Country and runner-up for Dye Lumber – the players themselves took matters into their own hands. The Town & Country boys walked across the field and asked if they could trade trophies with the other team. They felt that the Dye Lumber boys, though they had technically lost, deserved the championship trophies.

      As the proud parents of both teams looked on, the boys posed together for this photo. They think they’re displaying their trophies. What they really displayed, in the minds of those who witnessed the event, was true sportsmanship.

      And isn’t that what youth sports is all about?

2009-04-09T09:20:00.000-04:00

Poet and novelist Jim Harrison and I talked on tape about the dangers of self pity for writers, and how writing full-time as we did (he successfully) was like life on a shuddering elevator.

“It’s boom or bust like miners,” said Harrison. “I’ve often thought about professors who’ve been mildly critical about my work. They’ve been wallowing in the public trough for twenty-five years. It’s a little easier when nobody wants to buy your soul.”

When I talked to Jim Harrison (in 1984 for a magazine piece reprinted in book shown here) who lived on a farm in northern Michigan, my income from writing had reached its lowest point as I slowly, painfully learned how to be a print journalist and writer by studying textbooks and securing interviews with writers for national magazines and non-paying literary magazines.

In that fashion I was to get interviews (mainly in person, but not all) with both popular and literary authors, an amazing number, really in just a few years, that included Mickey Spillane, Michael Lee West, Rosemary Rogers, John Jakes, Kurt Vonnegut, Harry Crews, James Dickey, Richard Dunlop (a biographer), Thom Gunn, Stuart Gordon (“Bleacher Bums”), Louis L’Amour, Maurice Sendak, Diana Gabaldon, David Mamet, Diane Ackerman, Stanley Elkin, William Gass, Howard Nemerov, Thom Gunn (a second time), and William Least Heat Moon.

All these people submitted to my questions both good and amateurish, as I struggled to become a "real" writer, a "real" journalist.

The real world was my classroom. To this day I never have taken a writing class, though I have taken technology classes to keep me up to speed on the computer.

Photo: Hank interviewing John Jakes

The importance of a mentor

2009-03-04T08:32:00.000-05:00

Busy time of year: Thought I'd load an old story up. Professor Drew and I have a collection of letters coming out in May from Buffalo State College. Professor Drew and our book will be the focus of a 1,000 word article in the Buffalo city magazine in May. It's called Buffalo Spree magazine. Hope you enjoy this essay and will comment if you like it! Hank
Reprinted from Arts Indiana, April 1995, by permission of the author.

Under the Influence:
My Powerful Mentor
by Hank Nuwer

I
Before New York's Buffalo State would let me graduate, I had to purge from my speech ungrammatical constructions and Polish inflections thick as my grandmother's duck's blood soup. I bought a grammar book and a tape recorder with two reels the size of 45 RPM records. All the summer of '67 I spun those reels in my room. Instead of sophisticated, I sounded breathless - and still do. But the supervisor of student teaching was satisfied and let me student teach - a requirement for graduation.
I hold no resentment against Buffalo State. As if atoning for the obliteration of my speaking voice, it introduced me to the teacher who helped me find my voice on paper.

II
During the 1964-1965 school year, while I played right field sparingly on State's freshman baseball team, Professor Fraser Drew went to Ireland and hopped a steamer from Galway to the Aran Islands, his face blistering from wind and salt. Trim, lithe and commanding in a classroom, although paralyzed when speaking elsewhere, Drew had a crew cut that he mowed often. He was half Irish, the English and Scots in him splitting the difference. In 1966 1 signed up for his introductory literature course. He was an honorary brother in my fraternity, and I thought he might be a pushover, an impression I'd formed when he signed my pledge plaque.
On my first day, I flirted with an oblivious Sue Paterno. Drew stopped lecturing and pointed to a seat in front of him. I collected my books, cheeks glowing like oven burners. Some pushover.

III
Drew had been reared in Vermont, a country boy much like Robert Frost's swinger of birches. He was mad about horses, accompanying an aunt and uncle to the track to watch their trotter compete. Later his love shifted to wolves, foxes, jays, and hawks. He came to admire the writings of John Masefield and Robinson Jeffers who used animals as metaphors in their poetry. His early learning came from books, and he prayed that he pronounced words properly the first time he said them.
As an adult he combined scholarship with his love for adventure. In 1955 Drew had an audience with Ernest Hemingway, the novelist whose books moved him the most. Hemingway seemed shy until the visitor pleased him by recognizing Joan Miro's painting, The Farm, across a dining table. The writer took Drew to his office and pointed out his typewriter atop a bookshelf where he typed while standing. Hemingway gave Drew a sackful of signed books for himself, his father, and three students. Drew had come up with the idea of starting an annual contemporary literature award, giving his best students copies of signed volumes by writers and Hemingway applauded such generosity.
The writer talked about his convalescence from a plane crash and wished that he could have taken Drew on a fishing cruise. "Writers are always a disappointment when you meet them," Hemingway said. "All the good in them goes into their books, and they are dull themselves.”

IV
It was fashionable then to separate the work from the artist. Some colleagues dismissed him for emphasizing the biographies of authors when he taught. He fought back, telling them that such teaching would be soulless and sterile.
In 1953 he maneuvered to spend an afternoon in Robert Frost's Vermont cabin. Frost was prideful enough to inquire how his poems were being taught. He sent the teacher away with an admonition: "Don't teach them a lesson, show them a lesson."
I never missed class, because I never knew what treasure Drew might bring in next: a signed letter sent to him by Masefield or Jeffers, the rare books and magazines he collected, and personal photographs taken of authors that they themselves had given him. He was so enthusiastic that his voice skipped octaves when he lectured - except when he recited poetry and ancient ballads with the skill of an orator.
V
My attention shifted from the joys of hitting a fastball to literature. I changed my major from history to English, checked out books by the sackful from the library, and put the same manic energy into study that had gone into batting practice and mischief.
In 1967, John Maseficld passed away, and I took Drew's class in contemporary literature. I began writing to authors, telling them how their work moved me. Replies came from novelist Thornton Wilder, poet Archibald MacLeish, and humorist Ogden Nash. I would show these to Drew as they arrived. He seemed excited by my excitement, never letting on that he had cultivated similar enthusiasms in hundreds of students.
One day I bushwhacked him in a grassy quad after class and asked him if he would read some poems I had written. He returned them with a few encouraging remarks. His guarded approval made the arranging and rearranging of words a satisfaction, something constant in my life that I've kept to this day

VI
I began sending poems to magazines. A few were published, but in time all I could see in them were defects. I destroyed them as I closed in tight on my 30th birthday. Perhaps I recalled Drew's praise of Housman's flawless use of language and his "happy faculty of selecting the exact, the inevitable word and phrase.” The author of A Shropshire Lad (which Drew bought in a first edition for 510 pounds sterling) concealed the labor in his work, never showing chisel- marks in stone. My poems had been sculpted with a heavy hand, dulling the chisel and fragmenting the stone.

VII
Right before graduation my father called me into the living room and said that my name was in the Buffalo Evening News. I froze, because it had just been in there for speeding down Main Street, a fact that I'd kept from him until the paper printed my conviction. He showed me a notice that said Buffalo State had named the winners of Drew's 1968 contemporary literature award. I'd been awarded a first edition signed by Drew and poet Louise Townsend Nicholl. She wrote him 1,056 letters in her lifetime.
Rarely have I seen Drew since. Twice he met with my wife and me to hold his namesake, Adam Robert Drew Nuwer. He warned my wife that one of his three small dogs liked to burrow in the sweaters of ladies, but mischievously left her to figure out which one did. He came to my father's wake with his housemate; they whispered quiet words to comfort my mother.
We keep in touch with letters. The handwriting is shaky, but the ideas, the wit, and the insights remain bold and challenging. He uses postage stamps honoring writers: Jeffers, Frost, Hemingway - and I thrill to know a man who has corresponded with these geniuses. I once sent him a packet of pictures of my son. On the envelope I had put an admonition not to bend or fold. This brought back a note. He had once sent that message to a woman who gave him a gentle reproach: "Mrs. F. D. Carpenter admits that on occasion she might bend but will never fold.”

When I applied for a teaching position at Ball State in 1985, he wrote a letter of reference, stating that I had been in the top one percent of all his students in scholarship and the best writer. He must have possessed sufficient ego to have wanted to produce a literary genius, but he never inflicted pressure on me to achieve, understanding the insecurities of writers. When my book containing interviews with contemporary authors was published with printer-caused typographical errors, he calmed my rage. Housman hated typos, he said. There was one on the form distributed at the poet's funeral.

VIII
In 1973 the chancellor of the State University of New York named Drew a Distinguished Teaching Professor. In 1982 then-mandatory retirement at 70 forced him to leave Buffalo State after 38 years. An intractable dean humbled him, refusing to let him teach a course in Irish or contemporary lit - even though Drew had offered to do so for the minimum teaching wage. He did not go gently into retirement, taking trips to Ireland and paddling a red canoe in Lake Erie. In the late 1980s he permitted me to start an award at Ball State in his name (and that of my deceased brother-in- law). Every year I send a signed book from a contemporary nonfiction writer to the best student writer in the department of journalism.

IX
For many years he has slipped nitroglycerin under his tongue to combat angina pectoris. A couple years ago he wrote to say that getting letters from friends had become preferable to face-to-face meetings. He admitted that an elderly friend had once hurt him with a similar rebuff years earlier and begged me to understand. "We wither into the truth," he wrote, quoting something that William Butler Yeats had said in a different context.
Early in 1993 I lectured at the University of Vermont. I visited Bailey/Howe Library and was astonished to see plaque after plaque commemorating donations that Drew had made in the name of his deceased kin and his mentor, Lester Marsh Prindle, a Harvard-educated professor at Vermont who introduced Drew to Housman's poetry. A special collections employee told me that Drew has been the department's single most generous benefactor.
Photos come from him every two or three years. The distinguished look is still there, but the fragility - where did it come from? I phoned his housemate, who is in his 60s and vigorous, to get Drew's copies of published notes from his visit to Hemingway, but didn't want to tip Drew off that this piece was in the works.
"Is that for me?" I heard in the background. Hearing Drew's changed voice was like recognizing a long-lost silver fork in spite of its tarnish. His father lived into his 90s, I reassured myself.

X
During the 80s and 90s his letters contained references to friends, colleagues and students who had died. "It is unnatural to survive one's children or students," he wrote. He began to regularly ask about my wife's health and mine, as she and I did about his. On June 23 he turns 82. 1 cannot know what being an octogenarian is like for him. What I do know is that he reads his beloved Housman to get him through times of strife and sorrow. He is like the survivor of a bad accident, warm in an idling patrol car, but aware of wreckage nearby. I hope that his splendid Irish literature collection sends him back to days when he was invincible. In my mind's eye, I see him navigating the rough waters off the Irish Blasker Islands in a fragile currach, taking notes to show his students a lesson.

Link to more Drew pictures: http://www.buffalostate.edu/~archives/nuwer/nuwer.html

Top: Fraser Drew: 1964

Right: Drew Today (1995)

I Brake for Turtles

2008-12-14T13:52:00.001-05:00

I advise the student newspaper at my college. Now you have to understand that primarily I am a writer and that's how I got my job. I have an honorary doctorate from the State University of New York and a master's from a college in New Mexico. But I don't have a Ph.D., and so I think students tend to think of me as their mentor and editor, not some starched-shirted academic.

So last week I drove one of my editors (Evan) to North Carolina to pick up a national award he had won.

As we drove along a busy Ohio highway I saw something and slammed on my brakes and pulled on the shoulder. As Evan gaped in amazement, I slipped between the semis and plucked a box turtle off the highway. I was afraid he or she was going to get turtle waxed for sure.

Wide-eyed lest I end up with tire tracks on my white tee shirt, I tucked the terrapin under my arm like Randy Moss sprinting for the goal line.

I jumped the guardrail on the opposite side and scampered down the embankment to leave Mr. or Ms. Turtle (we never were formally introduced, and I am biology-challenged when it comes to terrapin sexual parts) on the side of a stream.

When I returned to the car I saw Evan was in shock.

When we returned to our college Evan told a few people and now I have a nickname, "I Brake for Turtles."

It's been all in good-natured fun.

But I can't help hoping that I sprinted in the direction that the
turtle wanted to go. Can you imagine if I took him or her back to where he or she started from?

Imagine the turtle explaining this to a spouse. "Yes, dear, I know I'm late to that delicious repast of bugs and flies you made but some 230-pound monster swooped down on me, put me under his armpit ("I think he uses Right Guard") and set me on the ground. ("What do you mean, a likely story, my dear. It's true.")

A “Hell on Wheels” Christmas Dinner

2008-12-14T10:30:00.000-05:00

by Hank Nuwer

In Memoriam and Remembrance, Christmas 1941, Fort Benning, Georgia

Sixty-six years ago my dad (Hank Nuwer, Senior; 1915-1984) was a Private First Class and training at Fort Benning for what became his five-year stint with the Hell on Wheels outfit, the Sixty-Sixth Armored Regiment (Light). 2nd Armored Division. *

I guess it's the time of year, but I lost myself this morning contemplating the few military souvenirs my father brought back from World War II combat. Why few? When he docked in New York after years spent as a light tank driver under General Patton in North Africa, Belgium, Sicily, France and Germany, he stopped at a pay phone to call my mother. After he hung up, he discovered a thief had waltzed with his duffel bag.

"Welcome home, Dogface," he remarked about the incident in his laconic way, when I asked what he thought after seeing the empty spot on the concrete.

He refused to say much more, just as he refused to say much more about such matters as the death of his tank mate and best buddy who was blown away by a shell while they were on a break. My dad's tank was nicknamed Lonely, and that's what's printed on its side in one surviving photo my mother has.

My Christmas thought for you is to think of my dad and all those other beloved Dogfaces sitting down to a formal Christmas dinner just weeks after Pearl Harbor. My Dad had been drafted and in uniform about one year.

Here is the menu from his Christmas Dinner, 1941, printed in a beautiful red, white and blue booklet:

Appetizers: Oyster Cocktail, Hearts of Celery, Mixed Pickles, Olives, Cream of Celery Soup Main Course: Roast Turkey, Cranberry Sauce, Oyster Dressing, Giblet Gravy with Rice, Candied Sweet Potatoes, Asparagus Tips, Creamed Peas, Creamed Cauliflower, Apple and Date Salad Dessert: Mince Pie, Ambrosia, Pound Cake, Ice Cream Beverage: Coffee, Lemonade Breads: Crackers, Hot Rolls Fruit: Tangerines, Oranges, Apples, Grapes, Bananas
Well, because mincemeat pie was my Dad's favorite, I don't have to wonder what his dessert selection was. By some crazy coincidence, I found mince pie yesterday at Wal-Mart, and it is in my fridge now. I had not so much as a slice of this dessert since scarfing down my late Aunt Marion's unbeatable mince pie many, many years ago in my dad's hometown of Alden, New York.

So here's to our men and women in Afghanistan and Iraq and you for a beautiful holiday, as I give thanks to all the veterans (God Bless the Ordinary Troop-level Dogfaces), beloved family, friends, students, colleagues and casual readers of this web site.

Dad, if somehow you're reading this... "Welcome, home."

You're going to be a Great-Grandfather for the second time. And for the second year, I’m going to throw my diet out the window and invite friends over to enjoy the same meal you had at Fort Benning.

We'll lift a thin stem with lemonade and say, "Thanks, Dogface."

*In December 1941, the Commanding Officer at Headquarters was Major C. P. Amazeen and the Commanding Officer was First Lieutenant George C. Spence. In Dad's Third Battalion, the Commanding Officer was Lieutenant Colonel Malcolm B. Byrne and other brass included Major Leonard H. Nason, Second Lieutenant Robert C. Atwood, and Staff Sergeants Harold S. Bauver and Henry A. Hudson. The other Army men (in case their survivors are reading this by chance or Google) in L Regiment were George Gannon, Josef Kastl, Gordon Morrow, Andrew Theoful, Robert Chandler, Willard Lackey, Charles Meagher, Warren Portwood, Louis C. Rendina, Marion Russell, Henry Sydlo, James Tainsh, Charles Walters.