Reviews of books that have held my interest. And things that happen along the way.
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Have you hugged a Librarian today?
Claude Raines plays a man who has been the head clerk/bookkeeper for 18 years at a firm in Holland. He lives by the sound of the train whistling to and from Paris his whole life, while he remains where he is.
A scandal at a rival firm leaves that firm bankrupt. But, though it has been proven the bookkeeper was innocent of any wrongdoing or knowledge of the crime by his boss, his life and career are ruined anyway. Even Claude cannot help him find a job.
Through a set of circumstances a police detective arrives from Paris tracing some Dutch currency which has been circulating in Paris on the black market. He comes to Claude's firm. The boss is most cooperative. Too cooperative.
Out walking one night, Claude finds his boss burning the books and running away with the firm's money. They struggle and the boss falls in the canal and drowns. The firm's money is strewn on the ground where it fell, along with a train ticket to Paris. What should he do about that? There are no more books, but keeping the money will make him guilty of embezzlement. And leaving his family behind is not an option he really cares for. But this is an extraordinary situation.
What should he do? Tell the authorities the truth and risk disbelief and ruin? Or is there another way? And does that train whistle to Paris have an influence? Who can say?
Will he go to Paris so that it looks like his boss stole the money? Is it morally okay? After all, the boss was going to leave him holding the bag.....
Wonderfully adapted from the novel, and filmed in beautiful, almost muted color. This 1952 film stands the test. Also released as "The Paris Express".
Like millions of others all over the world, the First World War would have a lasting impact on the Williams family. This picture is of my paternal Grandfather, William Shone Williams, in North Carolina, just prior to shipping out for France. Growing up in the 1950's and 1960's, my family never talked much about my Grandfather's experience in the War. As a matter of fact, I never even met the man. He passed away about 8 years before I made my entrance into the world. So, naturally, I have been fascinated by him my entire life.
Two years ago I began looking into his wartime service to see where he went when he joined the Army and the 27th Division in the spring of 1917. The story is still missing several pieces but this is a brief account of what I have discovered so far by using photos provided to me by my favorite Aunt Gloria.
He was in the 27th Division of the NY 107th US Infantry, under the command of Major General John F. O'Ryan. This was their insignia, composed of the letters NY in an arched fashion to closely resemble the constellation Orion, a play on the major's last name. It's handle also points to the brightest star in the sky, Sirius. They became known as the "Orion Division."
The 27th trained at Camp Wadsworth in South Carolina through the winter of 1917-18. While there they published a weekly paper called "The Gas Attack" and later this name was changed to "The Gas Attack of the NY Division". The first issue was published in November of 1917 and the last was on May 4th, 1918 as they were about to transfer to Norfolk. Another issue was put out in France at Christmastime 1918, after the war was over. Another was issued right before the Division came home to a huge parade in NY in March 1919.
In Spartanburg there were two colleges and the one most favored for dances etc was the Converse College for Girls. There are quite a few photos on line of soldiers on leave in Spartanburg during that time. I keep looking for my Grandfather.
This is a photo of Major General John F. O'Ryan. He is shown standing on a snow bank at Camp Wadsworth. My Grandfather must have recognized him and took the photo. They were at Spartanburg from Nov 1917 through May 4th 1918 when they shifted to Norfolk for deployment to England.
Interesting side note; Spartanburg was the only place in South Carolina that did not welcome the Northern Divisions. (See the NY Times Article dated August 31st, 1917.) It concerns the Mayor of Spartanburg and his venomous attack upon the presence of "Yankee" troops. Apparently, there was also an African-American Division there at the same time. Captain N.B. Marshall, an African American of the NY Bar Association was called a "dirty nigger" and thrown from a street car in one instance. When Frank De Broit, an African-American private, attempted to buy a newspaper in a hotel lobby, with the permission of his Lt., a man named Europe, he was knocked to the ground by the hotel clerk. About fifty members of the NY 27th Division jumped in, hell bent on murdering the hotel clerk when they heard the command, ""Attention!" called out by Lt. Europe, who then ordered the men to cease their action and file out peacefully two by two.(He was, apparently, an early version of Martin Luther King.)
Major O'Ryan wrote a book about the whole experience, from Spartanburg to France and then coming home again in 1919. It's called "The Story of the 27th Division" and can be found online and read for free. You can even download it as a PDF file. http://www.archive.org/details/storyof27thdivis02oryauoft
Once in England they trained jointly with the British troops and appear to have crossed the Channel at Dover to France and marched down South towards Paris. On the way he would have taken the photo of the "Ponts de la Soissons" which is the Bridge at Soissons. From there they would likely have gone on South to Paris to group up before starting the final offensive of the war, referred to as the Muese-Argonne campaign and included the Second Battle of Verdun. Verdun is on the west bank of the Muese River. This is where he allegedly stole the keys to the city and a mandolin, which my step-mother, Alice, still has in her kitchen. The campaign lasted from September 1, 1918 through November 11th when the Armistice was called.
On Sept 29, 1918 the 27th Division, under command of Maj. General O'Ryan, along with the 30th Division, and the British units (under command of General Haig) jointly "cracked" the St. Quentin Tunnel Complex which ran parallel to the Hindenburg Line for a distance of about 4 miles North to South, and was used for resupply of the German forces there.
Forming a "pincher" and advancing eastward, the combined forces broke through the Hindenburg Line, which the combined French and British forces had been unable to do for 3 years. The 27th crossed through Guillemont and Quennemont Farms just West of the line. There were 227 officers and men of the 27th killed that day and another 688 wounded.
This means that they likely did not go to Paris upon arrival "in country", but rather, that after they cross trained with the British they headed to St. Quentin, which is North of both Paris and Verdun.
After the action at St. Quentin they continued on with the British 4th Army under the command of Major Rawlinson through most of October on their way to the Selle River south of the fighting at LeCateau.From there they would have moved on to the Second Battle of Verdun. He was wounded by artillery sometime during all of this, as a result of which he had a metal plate in his head for the rest of his life. He was also gassed. I am still, at this writing, trying to find out where and when he was wounded. It would appear, by the mere existence of the photographs, that he was wounded late in the war, most likely right before the Armistice in November. After Verdun, the 27th "hunkered down" through March of 1919, when they were sent home.
This is a photo of the entire 27th Division taken in March of 1919, composed of all 10,000 officers and enlisted men just prior to leaving France. My Grandfather is most likely in this photo, but it's kind of like "Where's Waldo." And war is like that, millions of men, whose names often go unrecorded in the greater annals of history, do the heavy fighting, and pay the heavy price, while the select few garner the recognition of their sacrifices.
When he returned from the "Great War", as it was referred to at the time, he went on to become a Police Officer in New York City. When he died, at the all too young age of 43 years old, leaving a wife and 5 children behind, he became a belated casualty of that war.
Imagine a law which would make it a crime to publish, or
utter, “any false scandalous and malicious writing or writings against the
government of the United States or either House of the Congress, or the
President of the United States with intent to defame the said government….. or
to excite against them…..the hatred of the good people of the United States….for
opposing or resisting any law of the United States or any act of the President.”
This was the most important section of the Alien and
Sedition Act which was passed in 1798 in the wake of the XYZ Affair and the
partisan split between the two political parties over the possibility of War
with France, even as we were still struggling to find our place in the world as
a Nation.
The Republicans of the time; it should be noted; were today’s
Democrats and the Federalists were today’s Republicans. The Sedition Acts were the
work of the Republicans of the era, and all but 6 of them voted for the passage
of it. The Federalists fought it tooth and nail.
Such a law passed today would have the effect of silencing most
of the 24/7 news cycle we have all come to love/hate. FOX, Rush Limbaugh and
even CNN would be silenced, along with all 3 major networks. Can you picture
the silence, the death of debate, and the absence political discourse? The
silence; one might say; would be deafening.
With a wonderful background on the of freedom speech stemming
back to the Magna Carta and Sidney’s Discourses in 1688; for which Sidney was
hung 5 years earlier; and Blackstone’s Commentaries, which although fairly revolutionary
for the time did call for limitations on “pretended prophecies”; the author
explores the issue of our own Bill of Rights, which contains our valued First
Amendment.
Interestingly, Alexander Hamilton felt that there was no
need for a Bill of Rights, since none of the rights in it were specifically
forbidden in the Articles of the Constitution itself. The danger there, of
course, lay in the interpretation of what was not there to interpret. It is no
accident that the Bible; although containing all of 613 Commandments from God;
felt it necessary to have the 10 most important ones etched into stone on Mt.
Sinai. Some things are too important to be left open to interpretation.
It is important to note here that the whole Alien an Sedition Act drama is precisely why we need the Bill of Rights; and it puts to lie the assertions of those; who; like Hamilton; would say that the limits on government contained within the Articles of the Constitution itself are enough to protect our individual freedoms. But without them, what might have been the outcome of this whole era of the Sedition Acts?
The most interesting part of this book concerns the 2 men
most caught up in the calamity of the Acts. They were newspaper editors Benjamin
Franklin Bache; grandson of Benjamin Franklin. He died from yellow fever just before his trial was scheduled to take place.
The second man was Matthew Lyon ; an editor
who had originally hailed from Ireland and was in double peril due to the deportation
aspect of the law. His was the first actual Sedition trial held.These 2 men were thorns in the side of President Adams, while a balm
to his Vice President; Thomas Jefferson; who lobbied extensively against the
Acts. The volatile relationship between Adams and his Vice President is legendary
and the author gives us great insight into this.
There was also the case of Henry Lyon of Vermont. He was a
sitting Congressman and a newspaper editor when he was jailed for
Sedition. He bore ill confinement with a dignity which even impressed his
political foes. He even stood for reelection while imprisoned and
won. His story is particularly fascinating.
But beyond the newspapermen there was also the trial of a
man named Luther Baldwin for the crime of a public utterance. He had wished
that a cannon salute being fired in respect to President Adams be fired at his
"arse" instead. He was drunk at the time he said he it, yet he was
charged; along with his 2 friends; under the Sedition Act. This was just 23
years after the Declaration of Independence, and was perhaps the lowest point
of the Sedition Act drama. If a man could not be secure in conversation with his
fellows, then what had that revolution wrought?
This book captures all of the excitement, as well as the
drama, of a new nation struggling to come to terms with itself. There was no
previous example to follow in this great experiment called America. We were
winging it. The lesson to be taken from this book should serve as a lesson to people
on both sides of the political aisle who seek to silence one another. We have
tried it before and it failed miserably.
If you need any further proof that music crosses all boundaries of life, you need look no further than this footage of cows in Southern France, which is from 2011. At first, the cows react to a lone tuba player. Then, as more musicians join in, more cows appear. Who says that animals have no soul?
This story broke last Wednesday, but I wanted to chronicle
it here, where my grand-kids might see it someday. It’s a story of sacrifice and
heroism unheralded for decades. And even now, when the long overdue honors have
begun to emerge, there is still one last roadblock between full recognition for
this man. And it appears that this roadblock is permanent; being the decision
of the Armed Forces, who are the final arbiters in cases such as this.
Lt. Garlin Murl Conner, from Kentucky was the 2nd
most decorated soldier of the Second World War. He earned 4 Silver Stars, 4
Bronze Stars, 7 Purple Hearts and the Distinguished Service Cross while engaged
in combat for 28 months. It was during the last part of his service that he won
the DSC.
The actual wording of the citation explains that on January 24, 1945
near Houssen, France, he left his comfortable berth at the military hospital where
he had been convalescing from a hip wound in order to rejoin his comrades. Had
he not taken this action he would have been returned home to Kentucky.
When he arrived back at the front he unrolled a coil of
telephone wire and took up a position in a ditch. From that vantage point he
began to relay the coordinates for artillery fire on the German positions. He did
this for 3 straight hours, even as the German troops came within 5 yards of his
“nest.” 5 yards, 15 feet. That’s about as long as your average living room.
The original application for the upgrade from the DSC to
the Medal of Honor was initiated by Mr. Conner’s widow, Pauline Conner, in the
late 1990’s. The application was rejected at that time on the grounds that no
new evidence had surfaced to support the claim. This was upheld on appeal in
2000.
By 2006 Pauline Conner had found 3 eyewitness accounts
which met the criteria for the upgrade, which is very rare. Only 178 recipients
of the DSC have had their awards upgraded to the Medal of Honor since 1917.
When the evidence was finally presented to the court in 2008 it was rejected on
the grounds that the statute of Limitations had expired on the case in 2006.
This is a sad example of how the government doesn’t
really take care of its’ veterans. They never did. Just take a quick look back
at the Bonus Army March during the early 1930’s. These men were asking that the
bonus promised them for their service in the First World War be paid 10 years
early due to the pressing economic conditions of the Depression.
They were so destitute that they camped out in
Washington, vowing not to leave until the Bonus legislation was passed. They
were gassed, beaten and even shot by some of the very officers whom they had
served under during the war. Officers like Eisenhower, Patton and MacArthur
were all on hand to kick the men when they were down. Amid tear gas and
gunshots, the once proud veterans were run out of the seat of the very
government which they had once fought to preserve.
And now, even as the press is filled daily with stories
about the shortcomings of veteran’s services in the wake of the last 2 wars; in
Iraq and Afghanistan; we see the same attitude in the case of Mr. Conner and
his long overdue decoration.
In spite of the backing from members of Congress, the
Senate, and fellow veterans, the request by his widow; who has been waging this
fight on behalf of her now deceased husband for over 17 years; a federal judge
in Kentucky now seems to be getting the final word. Mr. Conner will not now; or
ever; receive the award which he so clearly deserved.
The message is loud and clear; “Uncle Sam Needs You”. He
just doesn’t care about you when he’s done.
This is the true, and bizarre, tale of a serial killer in occupied Paris during World War Two. It is bizarre in more ways than one, the first being the most obvious. Imagine the Nazi's looking for a serial killer, even while they are, arguably, the cream of the crop when it comes to mass murder. Seemingly, things couldn't get much stranger; but they do.
On March 11th, 1944 Jacques Marcais and his wife awoke to a smoke filled apartment. Not ordinary chimney smoke, but a foul, noxious odor often associated with death itself. What made this even more disturbing was the fact that the couple had lived in the apartment for the past 5 days, in order to quench the foul odor emanating from the courtyard outside their windows. The odor seemed to be coming from the vacant building next door, a 2-1/2 story town house. This building, at 21 Rue Le Sueur, would become the focal point of an investigation leading to 27 murders. The real number of victims is said to be as high as 150 persons in total.
Adding to this mystery is the location of the grisly murder scene, located, as it was, in the midst of the Nazi bureaucracy, and around the corner from Gestapo headquarters itself. Who owned the building? And who were the victims? Was this the work of a Nazi death squad? Or was it associated with the French Resistance? Were the victims collaborators with the Nazi's, or were they members of the French Underground? These are the questions which confronted Frech Commissaire Georges-Victor Massu, the Chief Inspector of the Brigade Criminelle. But, in the end, the real reason behind these murders will leave you aghast at the ability of man to exploit his fellow creatures.
Ascertaining the owner of the building makes the chief suspect a Doctor Marcel Petiot, a well-liked physician who treats the poor and also helps people kick their morphine habits. He was known locally as the "People's Doctor" for all of his generosity. But there are some things in his past which shed new light on this man's love of his fellow man.
In this Poe-like tale of murder in Paris, Inspector Massu must navigate a broken system of justice under the waning days of the Nazi occupation, he must wade through the cast of prostitutes and drug addicts who inhabited the world of the Doctor in order to arrive at the truth. And when he finally does charge his suspect, the trial takes place in a courtroom which quickly becomes a sort of black comedy of its own.
The Doctor is tried for all 27 murders at once, a feat which would tax the resources of any municipality today, let alone a city torn by war and partisanship. The case is not cut and dry, and the Doctor's defense is the up and coming criminal defense attorney Rene Floriot, who gives the prosecution a run for its money in a case which reads like a top notch thriller.
With some background involving the last days of the First World War, and the subsequent decades of the 20's and 30's, with their divergent economic differences, the author, David King, manages to cover all the bases in this complicated who-dun-it.
This was a nice surprise, in a couple of ways, as I had never seen it before; and having just come from a visit to New York City, where the bulk of the story takes place, it just seemed appropriate.
The story is old style corny; a French playboy, Charles Boyer of course, is traveling by boat to meet his wealthy heiress fiancee, and falls in love with another woman, Irene Dunne. They have an affair and agree to meet again in 6 months atop the Empire State Building. She is struck by a car on the way to meeting him, and paralyzed, leaving him wondering, and waiting. A real tear jerker.
Aside from the corny plot, the film did garner 2 Academy Award Nominations; both Irene Dunne and Maria Ouspenkaya were nominated for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, repectively. In addition it was nominated for Best Story and Best Song- the poignant ballad "Wishing".
It also had me "Wishing" that I had spent just a bit more time wandering the streets of New York while I was there. Best line in the movie is spoken by Irene Dunne's character, Terry McKay, who avers, "The things we like best are either illegal, immoral or fattening." Low key, and later remade as "An Affair to Remember" with Cary Grant, this is an often overlooked film that is well worth the time it takes to watch.
The sign on the box office window read "No Refunds." Neither Sue, nor I, had ever seen such a sign at a movie theater before, and so we thought nothing of it. But that was before we saw this film. You know how when people come out of a movie and they are usually talking to one another abut the film they have just seen? Not this one. And it wasn't the silence borne of having been awed by the film - it was the silence that comes with the sudden realization that you saw the sign, and went in anyway.
A more pretentious and self aggrandizing film cannot be imagined. One of the most comical moments in the film, and remember, this was a documentary, not a comedy, came when the audience is asked, along with the film crew, to "experience the silence of the cave. Who knows, you may even hear the sound of your own heart beating."
I was really excited at this prospect - we never hear true silence, and the caves were beautiful, so I sat back to really feel the silence of the caves. Then it happened, slowly a thumping sound, growing louder and louder, imitating the beating of a human heart, and then leading into a musical interlude as the cameras panned the cave, took over the entire theater. So much for the silence of the caves experience!
Next came the former circus juggler, now a scientist, who talks of having seen cave paintings in other parts of the world. He describes how the local indigenous peoples "retouch" the paintings to keep them fresh, and avoid their fading. He states that the hands of these men are touched by the spirit of the cave when they paint, so in essence it is not their hands, therefore they are not ruining the original work, merely keeping it alive. I can buy that. I even like the idea.
Then we return to the caves in France, which are shuttered with a steel door. Inside the caves, which are 32,ooo years old, it is a strict no touch policy. This film is one of the rare times that filming has even been allowed. So much for the "spirit of the caves."
This is a very disappointing film, one which would have been better served up as a silent documentary, and would have let the paintings speak for themselves. With just a little background information to indoctrinate the viewer, this could have, and should have, been a wonderful film experience. I want my money back.
There are 2 versions of this song "La Vie en Rose" which will live forever. Louis Armstrong's version is my favorite- the plaintive sound of his coronet and the abbreviated lyrics make this a tight and soulful version of Edith Piaf's original recording of the song. These are the lyrics, as translated for Mr. Armstrong;
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me heaven sighs
And tho I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak...angels sing from above
Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
This is the original version by Edith Piaf, the noted French chauntuse. The lyrics are a bit more complicated, but it was originally intended as a woman's song, which is why the lyrics of Mr. Armstrong's version were simplified.
Et dès que je l’aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat
English
(intro)
Eyes that gaze into mine,
A smile that is lost on his lips—
That is the unretouched portrait
Of the man to whom I belong.
When he takes me in his arms
And speaks softly to me,
I see life in rosy hues.
He tells me words of love,
Words of every day,
And in them I become something.
He has entered my heart,
A part of happiness
Whereof I understand the reason.
It’s he for me and I for him, throughout life,
He has told me, he has sworn to me, for life.
And from the things that I sense,
Now I can feel within me
My heart that beats.
In endless nights of love,
A great delight that comes about,
The pains and bothers are banished,
Happy, happy to die of love.
When he takes me in his arms
And speaks softly to me,
I see life in rosy hues.
He tells me words of love,
Words of every day,
And in them I become something.
He has entered my heart,
A part of happiness
Whereof I understand the reason.
It’s he for me and I for him, throughout life,
He has told me, he has sworn to me, for life.
And from the things that I sense,
Now I can feel within me
My heart that beats.
This is a most unusual and rare book. I found it in circulation at The Mooresville Library yesterday. I have been looking at it ever since I picked it up. Sue and I sat in the car turning the pages and laughing with the Lartigue family and their antics.
It is bound and arranged exactly as a family album would be, the photos are seperate from the pages and pasted in. The captions are descriptions of the who, what, when, where and why of each photo.
Jaques Lartigue first began to take these photos in 1901 with a camera given to him by his Dad. He was seven years old. By April 1904, only 4 months after the Wright Brothers had launched their first plane at Kitty Hawk, N.C., Jacques was in Berck and photographing the first sucessful French aero flight. He was barely 10 years old.
The times in which these photos were taken, in France, were times of invention for the whole world. Marconi and the Wright Brothers, the automobile, balloning, these were all the rage and the Lartigue family was trying it all. And photographing themselves as they crashed go-carts, motorbikes, gliders and even contrived various watercraft.
The "Belle Epouque" was a gifted time in the history of France and the Lartigue family managed to chronicle that golden period in this wonderful collection. These photos of the family engaged in tennis, swimming, bicycling, and just having fun together are priceless peeks into the past. The weekend promenades were the rage and gentleman were expected to tip their hats to aquantinces no matter how many times they passed during the days walk.
Some of the photos are historical in nature. They include early car races, sports, fashion and even swimming. But the best photos are the ones of the family engaged in so many different and bizarre activities.
The book was published in Switzerland in 1966 and is a collectible today. I looked it up on Amazon and it goes for up to $475 in used condition. There are not too many copies of this unique and beautifully crafted book available. Clearly this needs to be placed in Special Collections.
This is what I love best about our Public Libraries - that you can walk in empty handed and walk out with a treasure like this is a truly wonderful thing. That we can so easily look back on the more innocent times experienced by the family Lartigue is an absolute treasure. My special thanks to Mooresville Public Library for the loan of this most unusual book.
