Goree State Prison - Texas

In 1911 Texas opened a prison for women inmates. It was located at Goree State Prison Farm, in Walker County, about 4 miles outside of Huntsville, Texas. The facility is still in operation today, with a population of 874 inmates serving sentences for drug possession to murder. The average sentence is between 10 and 15 years.

The prison was segregated, with White and Hispanic women working mostly in the linen factory. The African -American inmates were relagated to field work, growing some of the food consumed by the prisoners. By the time of the Great Depression, in the 1930's, many of the women incarcerated were there for economic crimes such as kiting checks, prostitution and drug possession. Classes were offered for rehabilitation, including typing, shorthand and beautician work.

But the strangest, and perhaps best story, to come out of Goree State Prison is the one about an 8 member acoustic band that played there in the 1940's. They were known as "The Goree All Girl String Band" and played each week, not only for the prisoners, but also for a radio audience.

Trisha Durant, Kathy Roberts, Erica Gilligan, Cassidy Sunderson, Billie Crow, Jill Vegas, Vicki and Farrah (no last names found) were all serving time at the farm in the late 1930's when a Fort Worth radio station, WBAP, began a program called "Thirty Minutes Behind the Walls", in which the inmates could show off their various, legitimate talents. These 8 women jumped at the chance. The show was an instant hit and remained on the air through 1948.

This story is new to me. I just heard of it while reading the morning paper. Seems like there is a movie being made about the Goree All Girl String Band. It will star Jennifer Anniston and Pam Tillis. This is one movie that I will be looking forward to seeing when it is released. Meantime, I'm searching the net for some of their music. At this point I'm not sure any of the original radio broadcast recordings still survive.

Here is an excellent link to the history of this highly unusual story;

http://goliath.ecnext.com/coms2/gi_0199-2742349/O-sister-where-art-thou.html

"Pegasus Descending" by James Lee Burke

Fiction and reality collide once again in this action packed and thought provoking novel by James Lee Burke. With his usual flair for tying history together with mystery, this book finds New Iberia Detective James Robicheaux involved in the 20 year old murder of a former friend during an armored car heist gone wrong. When the friend's daughter shows up in New Iberia, she brings with her a whole boatload of trouble.

A dead man is found in a drainage ditch on the side of the road, with no name or identification, and the coincidences begin to add up, leading Detective Robicheaux on a search for the truth which will take him down some of the darkest and ugliest roads of humanity. Politics, old money and outdated societal traditions fuel the story as the case leads to the murder and gang rape of a young girl. Was she killed by the local gangbangers? Or were the rich "frat" boys involved? Or, is there a connection between the two?

With the FBI looking into some of the same suspects for other crimes, Detective Robicheaux is forced into a game of cat and mouse between his own New Iberia Police Department and the Feds. With his old buddy Clete Purcel at his side, rampaging like a bull in a china closet, guess who wins?

This may be one of the most complex of the Dave Robicheaux series to date. There is virtually nothing left out of this wide ranging tale of corruption and greed. From the gambling profits of the Indian Reservations, to the televangelists who may be laundering them, and the politicians who allow these things to go on, Mr. Burke has once again written a novel which is so well grounded in the reality of our times, that it is often difficult to remember you are reading fiction.

All of the usual characters have been assembled here. There is, of course, Clete Purcel, Dave's old sidekick from the New Orleans Police Department, New Iberia Police Chief Helen Soileau, Dave's wife Molly, and Tripod, their pet raccoon. Added to the list are a wimpy District Attorney and a cast of sociopaths.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of Mr. Burke's writing is his penchant for tying his plots to the applicable history which has firmly entrenched some very evil people in some of the highest positions of authority, all while waving the flag, or acting as a "shill" for the Lord.

But, against all odds, the self described "Bobbsey Twins of Vice", Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel, kick ass and take down the bad guys, bruising a few egos along the way. With the added lessons in history, as well as some insights into the human condition, James Lee Burke's novels can only be described as Mickey Spillane's "Mike Hammer" on steroids.

Support Reading - Boycott HarperCollins

Although this blog reviews things other than books, and indeed, at times I stray off track into various different subjects, it is primarily a site about books. Ones that I have read in the past, as well as ones that I am currently reading. So, it would be remiss of me to overlook the news item that caught my eye this morning concerning HarperCollins and their plan, make that policy, to charge libraries a fee for each time an e-book is lent out after the 26th time. The impact that this would have on the Public Libraries as a whole, at a time in which library funds are being slashed across the country, is staggering. The libraries, underfunded as they are, will have no choice but to pass the fees along to their patrons. Many will be unable to afford the fees. Let's examine that scenario for a moment.

Back when Benjamin Franklin began the library system, books were very expensive and not many people could afford them. That was the impetus behind creating a Public Library to begin with. It was a way to help the public learn, to broaden their horizons and soar among the words of the great philosophers, poets and essayists. It was a noble endeavor embarked upon by the need to have an educated populace, as ignorance serves no legitimate purpose in any society.

Fast forward a few hundred years to the 20th Century. Libraries were built with the help of the wealthy, for use by the less fortunate. Andrew Carnegie, pictured above, comes to mind as a prime example. For my entire life, and that of our parents, the Public Library has always been there for us. They have rolled with the times, adding music and videos to their collections, reflecting the changing culture of the times. And it has worked out rather well. There are now more literate people than at any time in our previous history. And we were able to accomplish that without charging fees.

Let's look at it this way, the average classroom size is about 35 students. Let's say the class is assigned to read "To Kill A Mockingbird." There are 4 copies of the book in the school library, 3 paper copies and 4 e-books in the Public Library. That's 11 copies for one class to share. Wait! I forgot! There's more than one school in the area of the library. So, that means that most of the students will have to purchase the book to satisfy the assignment. Not a very promising outlook, is it?

One can't help but wonder where this will all lead. As traditional paper books give way to the e-book, what will happen to those who can't afford the fees to read? What future is in store for a society in which books are reserved for those with money? Victorian England and Charles Dickens both come to mind. Remember the part in "Oliver Twist" when Oliver is charged with the theft of a book from a bookseller - there were no public libraries in England at the time - is that where we are heading?

Perhaps HarperCollins will be doing away with printed materials altogether, eschewing them in favor of a new technology which will reward them handsomely? It's not unthinkable that eventually HarperCollins will take their entire inventory to e-books, thus eliminating many titles from the Public Libraries, replacing them with e-books which will generate a greater profit.

I called HarperCollins in New York about 2 hours ago. I was passed along to 2 voice mails, and then upon my insistence was permitted to speak with a live human being, at no additional charge. This person took my name and number and promised to pass my message along. I will print the response here, should I ever receive one.

In the meantime, if you care about books, libraries and reading in general, do us all a favor and make the call to HarperCollins. Let them know how you feel about this new policy. You can reach them at 212-207-7000. And if you are reading anything by Sarah Palin, Michael Crichton or Anne Rice, please contact them and let them know it is time to change publishers.

The Boston Public Library, founded in the 1850's, was really the first library intentionally founded to lend books for free. And they got it right when they stated their mission and goals;

•There is a close linkage between knowledge and right thinking;

•The future of democracy is contingent on an educated citizenry;

•There is a strong correlation between the public library movement and public education;

•Every citizen has the right of free access to community-owned resources.

"One Meat Ball" - Depression Era Songs

This is the Josh White version of the song "One Meat Ball" which was recorded during the Depression and chronicles the troubles of a man who has only 15 cents for a meal. His heart is set on meatballs, but he only has money enough for one. Unfortunately for him, "..you get no bread with one meatball..." There are several versions of this song. The first time I heard it was on a 78 RPM when I was about 4 years old. I believe it was by the Andrew Sisters.

ONE MEAT BALL
(L. Singer / H. Zaret)

Little man walked up and down,
To find an eatin' place in town.
He looked the menu thru and thru,
To see what fifteen cents might do.

CHORUS:
One meat ball,
One meat ball,
One meat ball,
All he could get was one meat ball.

He told that waiter near at hand,
The simple dinner he had planned.
The guests were startled one and all,
To hear that waiter loudly call.

Repeat CHORUS

Little man felt so ill at ease,
He said: "Some bread Sir, if you please."
The waiter hollered down the hall:
You get no bread with your one meat ball.

Little man felt so very bad,
One meat ball is all he had.
And in his dreams he can still hear that call
You get no bread with your one meat ball.

I've been cruising You Tube looking at, and listening to, some of the old songs that my parents had in the house. Kind of a trip down memory lane. "She Had To Go and Lose It at The Astor" is another record that I remember, and though I didn't know who played the song, through the magic of You Tube I have found it and am posting it here below. This song concerns a young society lady who stays out all night, much to the chagrin of her family. And when she does come home, she has lost the one thing most important to all young ladies of good breeding. Just who took it from her is the mystery.



SHE HAD TO GO AND LOSE IT AT THE ASTOR
(Don Ray / Hugh Prince)

Harry Roy & His Orch. (vocals: Bill Currie & Harry Roy) - 1939

SPOKEN: We'd like to tell you a story about a young girl, about
eighteen years old, about five feet two, and about to go out. Now,
her Mother, realising it was her first time out with a young man,
called her into the bedroom and said, "Minnie, you're all dressed
up in your finery, your very best clothes, and you look beautiful,
you're gorgeous, you're alluring (you look swell, baby), and now
Minnie I want you to remember everything I've always told you, and
above all I want you to be very, very careful.....

But she had to go and lose it at the Astor
She didn't take her mother's good advice.
Now there aren't so many girls today who have one
And she'd never let it go for any price

They searched the place from penthouse to the cellar
In every room and underneath each bed.
Once they thought they saw it lying on a pillow
But they found it belonged to someone else instead.

But she had to go and lose it at the Astor,
She didn't know exactly whom to blame
And she couldn't say just how or when she lost it
She only knew she had it when she came.

They questioned all the bellboys and the porter
The chef appeared to be the guilty guy
And the doorman also acted quite suspicious
But he coyly said, "I'm sure it wasn't I"

But she had to go and lose it at the Astor
It nearly killed her mother and her dad
Now they felt as bad about the thing as she did
After all it was the only one she had

They just about completed all their searching
When the chauffeur walked up with it in his hand
All they did was stand and gape, there was Minnie's sable cape,
And she thought that she had lost it at the Astor.

These old recordings take me back to my earliest years, when I had no cares of any kind, at least none of which I was aware. One day blended into the next with a certainty that can never be described to those who have not felt that way. My parents had stacks of old 78's which I devoured by the time I was 6. These songs were the stories which gave voice to the images in my mind. I saw, rather than merely heard these songs.

Listening to these old recordings reminds me of one of life's great truths; that though those days may be long gone, the sounds and memories, and the songs themselves, will live for a long, long time. Because they just don't write them like this anymore...

Happy Birthday Grant Pensinger!

Grant Pensinger, Sue's Dad, was 80 years old yesterday, and celebrated it with a big party in Westminter, Maryland today. About 80 people showed up, and Grant was clearly delighted with the attention, and affection, with which he was showered.

Happy 80th Grant! See you at the next one!

Gasoline - Rising Prices, Same Old Schemes

There is a new scheme making the rounds on the Internet to force the oil companies to lower their prices. It is, of course, pure folly. It is a variation on the old "don't buy gas for a day" protest that has been circulating for years now. This one was supposedly "thunk up" by a retired Coca Cola executive, probably the one who was responsible for the idea of changing Coca Cola a few years back, only to be forced to re-introduce "Classic" Coke when the plan failed.

Sorry to tell you, but it won't work- most of us don't buy Exxon or Mobil directly to begin with. I use a local station that charges a few cents less per gallon. If everyone stops buying from Exxon-Mobil, then Exxon-Mobil's cost of providing a gallon of gas will rise, and they will pass it on. The smaller companies, seeing a rise in their customer demand for fuel will do exactly as Exxon-Mobil would do, raise the prices in lockstep with one another. Besides which, gasoline is what is known as a fungible commodity, that is, one which is transferrable. So boycotting one company will do little more than cause the fuel not sold by that company to be bought by another company, and the cost of the transfer will go directly to the consumer, compounding the problem. Here is the link to the "scheme" and the analysis of it on Snopes.com;

http://www.snopes.com/politics/gasoline/gasout.asp

The same thing is happening all over the country now with water bills. The less you use - the more you pay- due to the added cost of having water treatment plants. The cost to run one is static, no matter the quantity of clean water produced and consumed. The only alternative is rationing, car pooling or getting a sense of urgency about developing alternative fuels that equals the way we got back in the car market after Japan blindsided us in the 1970's. (None of this happened after 9/11 so don't expect it to happen now.)

At this point, I would have to say that we are dancing to the fiddler's tune. Until the day that we are all willing to ration our use of gasoline, or car pool, as the country did in World War Two; the prices will continue to rise as an ever growing populace struggles to compete with an ever shrinking resource. Not to mention the politics, and money, involved.

In the meantime my 1996 Mitsubishi gets 30 mpg and has 195,000 miles on it. Long may she run!

Ten Cents A Dance - Ruth Etting

If you've ever seen the movie "They Shoot Horses Don't They?" then you know about the dance marathons of the 1930's, where people who were desperate for money would literally dance until they dropped, the last couple standing being the winner.

There was also another kind of dancing that went on in the days of the Depression. These dances were held in dance halls, where there was a band playing, and women were available for dancing at the price of 10 cents. Sometimes these brief 10 cent dances became the precursor to a more sordid, physical type of transaction. The women who worked in these halls were, for the most part, normal, ordinary women looking to survive in abnormal economic times.

Ruth Etting captured the pathos of these women, and the times in which they lived, in her 1930 recording of the song "Ten Cents A Dance", written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart. I couldn't find a video of her singing, but have posted the recording at the bottom of this page. Here are the sad and poignant lyrics to the song;

"Ten Cents a Dance" by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart

I work at the Palace Ballroom,
but, gee that Palace is cheap;
when I get back to my chilly hall room
I'm much too tired to sleep.

I'm one of those lady teachers,
a beautiful hostess, you know,
the kind the Palace features
at exactly a dime a throw.

Ten cents a dance
that's what they pay me,
gosh, how they weigh me down!
Ten cents a dance
pansies and rough guys
tough guys who tear my gown!

Seven to midnight I hear drums.
Loudly the saxophone blows.
Trumpets are breaking my eardrums.
Customers crush my toes.

Sometimes I think
I've found my hero,
but it's a queer romance.
All that you need is a ticket
Come on, big boy, ten cents a dance.

Fighters and sailors and bowlegged tailors
can pay for a ticket and rent me!
Butchers and barbers and rats from the harbors
are sweethearts my good luck has sent me.

Though I've a chorus of elderly beaux ,
stockings are porous with holes in the toes.
I'm there till closing time,
Dance and be merry, it's only a dime.

Ten cents a dance
that's what they pay me,
gosh, how they weigh me down!
Ten cents a dance
pansies and rough guys
tough guys who tear my gown!

Seven to midnight I hear drums.
Loudly the saxophone blows.
Trumpets are breaking my eardrums.
Customers crush my toes.

Sometimes I think
I've found my hero,
but it's a queer romance.
All that you need is a ticket
Come on, big boy, ten cents a dance.