Green Irish Eyes

With your flannel shirts and your Irish eyes

it's easy to see that you hold no disguise.

Hair streaming wet and newly Baptized,

there's no escaping your green Irish eyes!

Surrounded by snow, or in the Sun's glow,

whom could you meet that you don't really know?

You may seem private, but not very shy,

there's no escape from your green Irish eyes!

Late in the evening or early sunrise,

with a bold countenance or tears in your cries

You baffle your foes and keep them surprised

you lash them all with your green Irish eyes.

Like the howl of the wolf or the bark of a hound

with a look that speaks in ethereal sound.

Gently seizing souls they can mesmerize,

there is such a strength in those green Irish eyes.

July 20th, 2023

4 AM

Charlie's Good Tonight by Paul Sexton (2022)

What can you say about the Rolling Stones which hasn't already been written? Quite alot as it turns out. Especially in a biography of the enigmatic Charlie Watts. Of all the Rolling Stones he was perhaps the one whose life was the least chronicled until now.

From the very first page, with Forewords by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, this book by longtime Stones biographer Paul Sexton swings just like Charlie Watts did, never missing a beat. And it is certainly on time.

Basically Mr. Watts was a gentleman throwback to an earlier era. He even wished he had been born in the 1800's. He was the most satorially turned out of the band, eschewing the wilder clothes of his profession for the stately dress of an earlier era. He even owned, and wore, antique suits which once graced the body of King Edward III. They were the exact same build, as he found out after buying the suits at an auction, intending to have them replicated by his tailor.

He took pride in his unusual collections of jazz memorabilia, including unplayed 78 PRM's which he bought from an obscure record store in Vienna. These were original issues of some of the finest recordings ever made, still in the original record sleeves, where they remained, unplayed, in his collection.

He had an incureable case of OCD which he used to his advantage in his collections of cars, clothes, antique guns and of course in his music. His sense of humor is unchallenged in the world of rock and roll. Case in point is when a fan, at the conclusion of an interview, which he hated to do, asked him repeatedly for something, anything, to remember her encounter with him. He stood up and gave her his chair.

With his wife of 6 decades, Shirley, he had over 250 Arab Stallions. Some went for as much as $700,000 apiece. Together, the two ran a stud farm. He also collected antique carriages and owned hand bespoke riding outfits, although he didn't ride. Par for the course since he owned many fine automobiles, even though he didn't possess a driver's license. He simply enjoyed sitting in them.

The book was written by Paul Sexton, using private conversations he'd had with the drummer for about 40 years as the basis of the biography. These are carefully collated with memories of those who knew him best. There are stories by childhood friends with whom he played jazz music for the rest of his life. They even toured quietly when the Stones were not on the road.

On the road he missed home, often calling his wife and daughter Seraphina, for hours after a show, while his bandmates lived the wilder side of the business. When he was home he wanted to tour. His only encounter with the wild side of the business came in Paris, when during the early 1980's he had what Keith Richards describes as " a wobble of his own." Alcohol and hard drugs were his choice for just a few short years before he simply quit using them. No rehab. Just quit.

The book is written in the chronological order of his life. His passions, his love of family are all on display. Whenever possible he took his wife on tour with their daughter. In later years his granddaughter Charlotte was his companion on the road. It was a truly loving relationship they shared, and touching to read about.

The book is written in such a way as enables you to keep reading. The book's 330 odd pages flew by with little effort. I thoroughly enjoyed it and hope that others will read it with the same result. It is at once the highly personal biography of a basically private man. He never really understood what all the fuss was about.

And in the end, Mick Jagger had it right in 1969, when he famously remarked on "Get Yer Ya Ya's Out", that "Charlie's good tonight...." But then again he always was. This was a superb read. 

"G-Man" by Beverly Gage (2022)

With its 59 pages of Notes covering each if its 58 chapters, and a 20 page Bibliography, this carefully researched biography of J. Edgar Hoover may be the best yet. It is the Winner of the 2023 Pulitzer Prize in Biography, as well as the Winner of the 2022 National Book Critics Circle Award. 

The actual biographical portion spans over 750 pages and after a brief portion devoted to his years as a child, it dives into a decade by decade narrative of one of the most unusual lives of the 20th century. Both his presence and its impact are still felt today. 

From the years leading up to the First World War, the first Red Scare and the resultant Palmer Raids,  through the years of Prohibition and the Teapot Dome Scandal this is a book which  keeps on giving.

Sifting through every source available to the author, Ms. Gage has penned a biography which will surprise you in many ways. It overturns many assumptions made by previous authors on such issues as Hoover's stance on subjects from Japanese Internment Camps; he was against it; to his views on treating Jim Crow and Civil Rights in the same way he viewed Communism. In many ways this book is an eye opener.

And yet, when it comes to his refusal to accept the existence of a nationwide Organized Crime Syndicate, to his rocky relationship with the Kennedy's and his subsequent stonewalling of the Warren Commission, there are few surprises.

The most eye opening portions of this book, for me, involved the way President Johnson was able to get him to view the Civil Rights Struggle in the same way he had come to view Organized Crime and the Labor Racketeers as two sides of the same coin. They were all law breakers. 

His biggest errors are not ignored either. The Cointrel program, in which he justified the Agency's spying on the Civil Rights and Anti-War Movements, are treated as exactly what they were, an Overreach and Abuse of Power which has set the tone of the FBI through to the current day. The book offers no excuses. But it does provide explanations of how it evolved from its initial legitimacy to the rocky and suspect political bureaucracy it has become. 

There is much to be gleaned from this painstakingly researched biography. I have barely scraped the surface in this review. As the longest serving Director if the Bureau, 48 years, this is the story of a man who left his mark on Anerica, for better or for worse. And as such, it is a book well worth the reading.

The Flying Dutchman

We have all heard of the Flying Dutchman, usually as a sea story or the Opera by Wagner. But through the years, up through the 1960's, there have been  many sightings of her, all of which ended in misfortune. Among the most credible is the one by Prince, later King George V,  in 1881. Here is his story, in his own words, as entered in the log of the HMS Bacchante in 1881.

"We Meet the Flying Dutchman"

"The Cruise of Her Majesty's Ship "Bacchante," 1881

"July 11th, [1881] -- At 4:00 a.m. the Flying Dutchman crossed our bows. A strange red light as of a phantom ship all aglow, in the midst of which light the masts, spars, and sails of a brig 200 yards distant stood out in strong relief as she came up on the port bow. The lookout man on the forecastle reported her as close on the port bow, where also the officer of the watch from the bridge clearly saw her, as did also the quarterdeck midshipman, who was sent forward at once to the forecastle; but on arriving there no vestige nor any sign whatever of any material ship was to be seen either near or right away to the horizon, the night being clear and the sea calm. Thirteen persons altogether saw her, but whether it was Van Diemen or the Flying Dutchman or who else must remain unknown."

"The Tourmaline and Cleopatra, who were sailing on our starboard bow, flashed to ask whether we had seen the strange red light. At 6:15 a.m. observed land (Mount Diana) to the northeast. At 10:45 a.m. the ordinary seaman who had this morning reported the Flying Dutchman fell from the foretopmast crosstrees on to the topgallant forecastle and was smashed to atoms. At 4:15 p.m. after quarters we hove to with the head-yards aback, and he was buried in the sea. He was a smart royal yardman, and one of the most promising young hands in the ship, and every one feels quite sad at his loss. (At the next port we came to the Admiral also was smitten down)."

Memorial Day - William Shone Williams

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.

Everett "Bert" Moore - The Spirit (1939 - 2023)

Uncle Bert was really something special.  And special is like the Moon. It's like a spirit which keeps coming around. This is for Uncle Bert and his children's  children.

The Spirit

Uncle Bert was laid to rest
with honors, flag and song.
He lived his life fully,
he's remembered young and strong.

He chose his battles wisely
and met them all head on.
He fought them all fairly,
hard to think that he is gone.

Tomorrow night's a full moon
and if the sky is clear,
you'll look up and realize,
that Uncle Bert's still here.

None of us, truly loved,
ever fully go away.
A spirit partly lingers on
a portion always stays.

Every time the name is spoken
that spark will still be here.
As if it is awoken
to dry away your tears.

Everette "Bert" Moore (1940 - 2023)

Uncle Bert was a true "Old Salt." He ended his career with more of those diagonal "Hash Marks" at the bottom of his sleeve than in this photo. Each one represents another 4 year "hitch". He had about 7 that I know of.

And the red, rather than gold color, means that he wasn't a "yes" man. He followed his own heart and mind, doing what he thought was right.

The rank insignia indicates a Hull Technician and Damage Control rating. The arch at the top indicates a full Chief Petty Officer.

I believe later photos showed a double arch at the top, which indicated  a Master Chief Petty Officer. If it could be kept afloat, he was the man who could do it.

His ribbons indicate his accomplishments as the veteran of Vietnam era service. And his eyes reflect all that he had seen up until that point in his career. They only got sharper and wiser in his later career in the reserves, as he saw, and learned, even more.

He was a quiet man, but one with deep thoughts and convictions. He kept his own council. And I don't think you can say more about most other men. May he rest well and sail on into his new voyage, with fair winds and a star to guide his way.

1940 - 2023
April 24th, 2023