What Are You Reading

[HanauMan]

I grew up with Peanuts and read it in the papers and paperbacks, also saw the various movies that came out in the 1970s. Everyday as a kid I'd read the strip in the Stars & Stripes and eagerly awaited the weekend color 'Funnies' insert. It isn't an exaggeration to say that Peanuts helped me to read and write better in grade school.

I always liked Charlie Brown and Peppermint Patty sitting under a tree, or such like, discussing things like growing up or fathers or things like that. The one I always liked was Charlie Brown saying to Patty that security meant sleeping in the back seat of your parents car. Schulz could get to the core of the human condition in just a few words and both kids and adults would get the point.

 

[ChiTownScion]

Over the past week or so, I've reread the entire run of the "Peanuts" comic strip -- October 1, 1950 to February 13, 2000.

"Peanuts" was omnipresent in my childhood -- paperback collections of the strip were among the first books I read, and I followed the strip in the daily paper from the time I understood what a newspaper was until the very end of the run, so I experienced about 4/5ths of the strip's run in real time. Most of that time I took it for granted -- it was part of the environment, sometimes great, sometimes OK, and eventually you just read it out of habit on your way down the page to "Calvin and Hobbes" or "Bloom County." But rereading the entire strip, start to finish, in bulk and in sequence, is a fascinating experience.

It's hard to believe that anything as relentlessly, hopelessly bleak as "Peanuts" was ever accepted for publication by an American newspaper syndicate in 1950. For most of its first fifteen years, the strip was a continuous and trenchant rebuttal to the forced optimism of those years: the strip dealt, not with happiness-thru-modern-living, but with the endless cruelty of daily life as seen thru the person of Charlie Brown. Many, many, many of the early strips had no perceptible gag or comic business at all -- they were simply ritualized, relentless humiliations of a lonely six-year-old boy who frequently ended the strip with his head leaning helplessly against a tree or a wall. The Charlie Brown of the 1950s was not the eye-rollin, resilient Everyman of the 60s and 70s -- he was a child suffering from what appeared to be clinical depression, and why and how 1950s America responded to this character in the way that it did is something worth thinking about.

The "Peanuts" most of us remember is the strip as it was from the mid-1960s until about 1975 -- but that definitive version didn't really last much beyond the mid-seventies. Snoopy dominated the strip for much of this "classic" poeriod with his many "Here's The World Famous.." personae -- but the bleakness is still there when you think about what he's actually doing. He's a *dog,* who in reality lives the life of a suburban dog -- meals, sleeping, and little else. His only escape from the emptiness of his life is this constant parade of imaginary personalities he assumes -- but no matter what he does in his mind, he can't escape from the fact that, in reality, he's nothing but a dog who can do absolutely nothing on his own. Bleak, bleak, bleak.

The 80s and 90s, however, may have been the bleakest period of the strip's existance. Much of this period focused on three basic motifs: Sally's lazy and relentless cynicism, Peppermint Patty's stupidity, and little Rerun's naivete. Snoopy lost a lot of his luster during this period, spending much of the strip's last two decades as a stooge for his unappealing relatives, and Charlie Brown was reduced largely to acting as Sally's straight man. And the most complex character of all, Linus, had almost nothing to do during the last decade of the strip but go door to door witnessing for the Great Pumpkin in a pointed parody of the evangelical beliefs that Charles Schulz had, by this time, rejected.

The worst aspect of the late period, though, was Schulz's treatment of Peppermint Patty -- once a fun, vibrant character, she was reduced by the end to a target for cheap, repetitious "dumb" jokes. Schulz was sometimes accused of cruelty in his treatment of Charlie Brown -- but you never laughed *at* Charlie Brown. You always sympathized with him. But the treatment meted out to Peppermint Patty thru the last fifteen years of the strip can only be described as cruel. In the end, sadly, the bleakness of "Peanuts" seemed to consume even its creator.

All that said, though, there is much that is fascinating in "Peanuts." Schulz was a much funnier comedy writer than he ever gets credit for, and he had an impeccable sense of how to time a gag that remained with him to the very end of his life: at his best, Charlie Brown's aggrieved reactions are positively Bennyesque. And his longer continuities of the 1960s and early 1970s show a real mastery of how to build an interesting plot and string out the suspense just long enough to keep the reader wanting more. Despite all the psychological baggage woven into the strip -- or maybe because of it -- "Peanuts" in totality is one of the most fascinating works of art produced in 20th Century America. If you've never read it all the way thru, it's a worthwhile challenge to take up.

Agree that it went downhill as time progressed. A lot of the earlier strips were reproduced in books that I read as a kid. Even then I knew that the earlier strips had the most edge.

Linus was always my favorite. A genuine intellect among his peers, but hobbled by his insecurity. At least in the minds of those same peers: personally, I think that all of them battled their insecurities, and his thumb and blanket were, in the grand scheme, a lot less pathological than the outright meanness of Lucy or Violet.

My best friend growing up (and still, actually) really IS Schroeder. Except that his piano was never toy sized. And as he grew to adulthood (and masters degrees in both music and library science) he was more of a Vivaldi than a Beethoven kind of a guy.

 

[LizzieMaine]

One of the most interesting things to see is how quickly some of these character traits developed. Schroeder entered the strip as a mute, smiling baby in 1951, was given a toy piano as a present by Charlie Brown, and his first word, several weeks later, was "Beethoven." By the end of 1952, he was suddenly walking, talking, and going to school alongside the other kids. There must be something to this theory that classical music encourages childhood development.

 

[Fading Fast]

Over the past week or so, I've reread the entire run of the "Peanuts" comic strip -- October 1, 1950 to February 13, 2000.

"Peanuts" was omnipresent in my childhood -- paperback collections of the strip were among the first books I read, and I followed the strip in the daily paper from the time I understood what a newspaper was until the very end of the run, so I experienced about 4/5ths of the strip's run in real time. Most of that time I took it for granted -- it was part of the environment, sometimes great, sometimes OK, and eventually you just read it out of habit on your way down the page to "Calvin and Hobbes" or "Bloom County." But rereading the entire strip, start to finish, in bulk and in sequence, is a fascinating experience.

It's hard to believe that anything as relentlessly, hopelessly bleak as "Peanuts" was ever accepted for publication by an American newspaper syndicate in 1950. For most of its first fifteen years, the strip was a continuous and trenchant rebuttal to the forced optimism of those years: the strip dealt, not with happiness-thru-modern-living, but with the endless cruelty of daily life as seen thru the person of Charlie Brown. Many, many, many of the early strips had no perceptible gag or comic business at all -- they were simply ritualized, relentless humiliations of a lonely six-year-old boy who frequently ended the strip with his head leaning helplessly against a tree or a wall. The Charlie Brown of the 1950s was not the eye-rollin, resilient Everyman of the 60s and 70s -- he was a child suffering from what appeared to be clinical depression, and why and how 1950s America responded to this character in the way that it did is something worth thinking about.

The "Peanuts" most of us remember is the strip as it was from the mid-1960s until about 1975 -- but that definitive version didn't really last much beyond the mid-seventies. Snoopy dominated the strip for much of this "classic" poeriod with his many "Here's The World Famous.." personae -- but the bleakness is still there when you think about what he's actually doing. He's a *dog,* who in reality lives the life of a suburban dog -- meals, sleeping, and little else. His only escape from the emptiness of his life is this constant parade of imaginary personalities he assumes -- but no matter what he does in his mind, he can't escape from the fact that, in reality, he's nothing but a dog who can do absolutely nothing on his own. Bleak, bleak, bleak.

The 80s and 90s, however, may have been the bleakest period of the strip's existance. Much of this period focused on three basic motifs: Sally's lazy and relentless cynicism, Peppermint Patty's stupidity, and little Rerun's naivete. Snoopy lost a lot of his luster during this period, spending much of the strip's last two decades as a stooge for his unappealing relatives, and Charlie Brown was reduced largely to acting as Sally's straight man. And the most complex character of all, Linus, had almost nothing to do during the last decade of the strip but go door to door witnessing for the Great Pumpkin in a pointed parody of the evangelical beliefs that Charles Schulz had, by this time, rejected.

The worst aspect of the late period, though, was Schulz's treatment of Peppermint Patty -- once a fun, vibrant character, she was reduced by the end to a target for cheap, repetitious "dumb" jokes. Schulz was sometimes accused of cruelty in his treatment of Charlie Brown -- but you never laughed *at* Charlie Brown. You always sympathized with him. But the treatment meted out to Peppermint Patty thru the last fifteen years of the strip can only be described as cruel. In the end, sadly, the bleakness of "Peanuts" seemed to consume even its creator.

All that said, though, there is much that is fascinating in "Peanuts." Schulz was a much funnier comedy writer than he ever gets credit for, and he had an impeccable sense of how to time a gag that remained with him to the very end of his life: at his best, Charlie Brown's aggrieved reactions are positively Bennyesque. And his longer continuities of the 1960s and early 1970s show a real mastery of how to build an interesting plot and string out the suspense just long enough to keep the reader wanting more. Despite all the psychological baggage woven into the strip -- or maybe because of it -- "Peanuts" in totality is one of the most fascinating works of art produced in 20th Century America. If you've never read it all the way thru, it's a worthwhile challenge to take up.

Being the same age, like you, "classic" "Peanuts" for me is '60s - '70s when I read it religiously. After that, I read it often but with gaps as the papers I read might or might not have carried it.

Your comments on Snoopy are smart and logical, but not how I experienced him growing up. To me, he was a hero. He had an incredible imagination and took daydreaming to the next level. I daydreamed a lot as a kid (and, now, as an adult) as it was not a fun childhood so I felt a real connect to him as a kid. As an adult, I still see the joy he gets from daydreaming / imagination and see his occasional let down as nothing more than the real-life grounding we all get now and again.

I fully understand your suburban bleakness and limitation view - as noted, it's smart, defendable and maybe even the point Shultz was trying to make - but all art get various interpretations and while Charlie Brown brings a sad smile to my face (you feel his angst and ennui), Snoopy brings a full, unqualified smile to my face. And heck, at one level he won - as an adult (he grew up with me, so he's my age, reality be damned), he ended up piloting an airship for MetLife for decades - not quite a WWI flying ace, but not bad for just some dog from the 'burbs.

 

[LizzieMaine]

There was certainly a lot that was fiercely upbeat in Snoopy's defiance of his own reality. Which made the very last strip Schulz actually drew before his sudden final illness all the more heartbreaking: this mighty, indomitable creature who could do or be anything was reduced to sitting on the sidelines of a snowball fight, lamenting that he couldn't even toss a snowball because his father had never taught him how.

 

[HanauMan]

I think that Schulz was really clever to bring out the various emotions children (and adults) go through. The situations the peanut gang finds themselves in, for better or worse, reflect the self same emotions the young reader may experience.

I was a army brat with no real home, certainly not a 'home town' where I grew up. We lived a nomadic life in various places, even countries. Most of them are long gone, the old schools, housing areas and military communities. I remember reading a Peanuts cartoon once where Snoopy was taking Woodstock to the puppy farm where he, Snoopy, was born and raised. However, once they got there Snoopy finds that the puppy farm is gone and that they built a parking lot on it. He laments that people now park on his memories. Damn, if that little cartoon didn't hit home how I felt, and still feel.

 

[Fading Fast]

There was certainly a lot that was fiercely upbeat in Snoopy's defiance of his own reality. Which made the very last strip Schulz actually drew before his sudden final illness all the more heartbreaking: this mighty, indomitable creature who could do or be anything was reduced to sitting on the sidelines of a snowball fight, lamenting that he couldn't even toss a snowball because his father had never taught him how.

View attachment 105445

Oh, that makes me very sad. Sad to see a deflated Snoopy lamenting what his father didn't teach him (you've probably guessed this, but my dad did not teach me things like throwing a ball nor did he ever play almost anything with me - not his thing).

Assuming Schulz knew this was his last strip, I wonder if this is a plaint about his dad or himself as a dad.

Mankind is here - life has ups and downs, mankind had and has ups and down - but I guess I'm positive about mankind as my preference would have been for Snoopy either fully participating in the snowball fight or seen in the background flying by as a WWI Ace.

I noticed the 1-1-00 date - did his last strip print on the first day of the new year?

 

[LizzieMaine]

That one was the last "regular" daily -- the next day a computer-generated/clip-art strip was published in which Schulz announced his retirement, and that was the end of the daily run. But he had been about six weeks ahead of the dailies with the Sunday pages when he had to quit, so those continued to run until February 13th.

Schulz died on the night of February 12th, and the story of his passing appeared in the same papers that carried the very last Peanuts Sunday page. You can't make this stuff up.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think that Schulz was really clever to bring out the various emotions children (and adults) go through. The situations the peanut gang finds themselves in, for better or worse, reflect the self same emotions the young reader may experience.

I was a army brat with no real home, certainly not a 'home town' where I grew up. We lived a nomadic life in various places, even countries. Most of them are long gone, the old schools, housing areas and military communities. I remember reading a Peanuts cartoon once where Snoopy was taking Woodstock to the puppy farm where he, Snoopy, was born and raised. However, once they got there Snoopy finds that the puppy farm is gone and that they built a parking lot on it. He laments that people now park on his memories. Damn, if that little cartoon didn't hit home how I felt, and still feel.

"Wait, maybe that's a magnificent monument erected to mark the place of my birth! No, it's a six-story parking garage."

 

[Fading Fast]

"Wait, maybe that's a magnificent monument erected to mark the place of my birth! No, it's a six-story parking garage."

I think that Schulz was really clever to bring out the various emotions children (and adults) go through. The situations the peanut gang finds themselves in, for better or worse, reflect the self same emotions the young reader may experience.

I was a army brat with no real home, certainly not a 'home town' where I grew up. We lived a nomadic life in various places, even countries. Most of them are long gone, the old schools, housing areas and military communities. I remember reading a Peanuts cartoon once where Snoopy was taking Woodstock to the puppy farm where he, Snoopy, was born and raised. However, once they got there Snoopy finds that the puppy farm is gone and that they built a parking lot on it. He laments that people now park on his memories. Damn, if that little cartoon didn't hit home how I felt, and still feel.

From Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi:"

They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot​

 

[ChiTownScion]

By the time Calvin & Hobbes arrived on the scene, Peanuts had pretty much lost its zing, as noted here. I remember remarking around that time that I remembered when Peanuts was actually funny.

I did have occasion to visit the Charles Schulz museum in Santa Rosa, CA a few years ago. Nice exhibits, very informative, and very pleasant... until a docent/ volunteer decided to latch onto us and regale us with unsolicited war stories about how he and "Sparky" (Schulz) had played senior hockey together for years at the nearby ice arena and such. I usually try to bow out (gracefully or otherwise) in such situations, but he seemed like a lonely old guy and I didn't have the heart to do so. We did leave shortly thereafter, as it had gotten uncomfortable.

I can remember thinking as a kid that Charles M. Schulz must be the coolest person in the world to be around... but I get the distinct impression from all that I've heard and read that the man had a lot of sorrow and real pain in his life. Perhaps this was why the life of Charlie Brown could be so pain filled on a regular basis. In all honesty, for as much as I have heard about the borderline delinquent conduct of Bart Simpson over the decades, compared to the heartless crap that Charlie Brown suffered at the hands of Lucy, Violet, and Patty (Not Peppermint Patty. The one who was pals with Violet.), Bart Simpson could win a Nobel Peace Prize.

 

[OldStrummer]

I read in spurts. Usually when I'm traveling, I check out a book or two from the library to read on the plane, in the airport, and in the hotel room. I just started a very quirky, debut novel by io9 (a Gawker web site) editor-in-chief, Charlie Jane Anders, titled "All The Birds In The Sky."

The novel took the Nebula Award in 2016, which is no small feat. Especially for a first-timer. It was also nominated for a Hugo.

Review here.

 

[Harp]

Read the New York Times coverage of the Mueller probe last nite on the train, following an earlier look at the Washington Post,
insipid ad hominem, but legal sites are also betwixt rhyme and reason: Article II presidential authority, personal rights under the Fifth Amendment,
United States v. Nixon and Clinton vs. Jones. The latter involved presidential civil deposition where a defendant; Nixon called documentary
evidence response to subpoena-not quite germane precedent...

Since writing this post the release of the now infamous memorandum, and subsequent public remarks by a respected public official
lead me to believe that sufficient cause existed for the inquiry and that said cases are relevant to the extent that the Court might
plausibly deny presidential Article II recourse.

 

[Harp]

Live market feed: Dow 24847; WT crude 63.41...ok, better than yesterday

 

[LizzieMaine]

Looking over the February 21, 1941 issue of "Friday: The Weekly Magazine That Dares To Tell The Truth" as I finish up my breakfast.

"Friday" was a labor-left photojournalism magazine designed to offer an alternative to the corporate-right point of view promoted by "Life." "Friday's" pages are larger, but the typography and layout closely recalls that of the Luce magazine, and the reporting style is very brisk and snappy. This particular issue features an image of the former US steamship "President Harding," recently sold to Great Britain -- a shot illustrating an expose of how not all the ships being sold to Britain by the US are being used for defense purposes: some have turned up in commercial shipping, in competition with American freighters.

Next, there's a look at the threat of rheumatic fever -- the number one killer of children in the US. You hear a lot about fear of polio during the Era, but rheumatic fever was seen as an even greater threat, thriving in conditions of poverty and malnutrition, and it reached epidemic proportions in the US during the 1940s. My uncle was one of its victims, and while he didn't die as a kid from it, he never fully recovered -- and it eventually led to his death at the age of 46.

Elsewhere in the issue, there's a look at the mounting naval threat posed by Japan to the Phillipines, and a review of the National Association of Manufacturers' campaign to control the content of American school textbooks and the related effort to slash funding for public education. Several photos illustrate various classroom scenes, including one of a group of teenage girls being instructed in military drill, and another depicting a group of grade-schoolers saluting the flag. Notably in this scene, the kids are performing neither the straight-arm Bellamy salute nor the hand over heart -- instead, they're giving the military salute even though none are wearing any type of uniform or headgear. Other scenes illustrate the shoddy condition of American schools, with cracked plaster, broken windows, and eroded brickwork in full view. One group of kids eats lunch in a dank, grimy, unfinished cellar -- exactly the same conditions I faced when I started elementary school in the late 1960s.

A fashion spread reveals that the new season's casual and sports clothes have less bulk and follow figure lines closely. Hand-crocheted brimmed hats or rabbit-fur turbans are the smart thing for headwear.

In the entertainment world, there's an examination of the "The Durbin Dilemma," the challenge faced by Universal Pictures in finding suitable roles for their top box office attraction Deanna Durbin now that she's ready for adult parts. "It is obvious," says the uncredited critic, "that she is not long for dolls and puppy love."

In sports, there's a profile of boxing authority Nat Fleischer, who displays his extensive collection of pugilistic artifacts. including a life-size cardboard standup figure of Jack Dempsey in a grey double-breasted suit, with which Nat likes to clown, and a sword-cane once owned by Jesse James. (I didn't know he was a boxer.)

On the editorial page, there's mention that a "Friday" investigation of Henry Ford's public mouthpiece W. J. Cameron and how he seems to have obtained his citizenship papers under fraudulent circumstances has sparked a Congressional probe into his status and his various Fascist connections. Under the heading "Paytriotism," there's mention of a federal committee's findings that the current aluminum shortage is not the result of national defense preparations, but the result of profiteering by the Aluminum Company of America -- which has been artificially suppressing the supply of the metal to jack up prices.

On the letter page, one Herman Wouk of New York City notes that, while he doesn't entirely agree with the magazine's editorial policy on some issues, "I respect any opinion vigorously expressed, withouth rancor or emotional balance. If I were Diogenes and ran into you, I would throw away my lantern and invite you into the nearest lunchwagon for talk over doughnuts and coffee.."

"Friday's" achilles heel was its lack of advertising -- its editorial policy ensured a boycott by NAM-affiliated advertisers, so there are very few ads to support the publication. One that's notable, though, is the back-cover ad for Consumers Union, an organization which faced an advertising boycott of its own -- magazines and newspapers terrified by the NAM's censorious fist refused to allow CU to buy ads. A years' membership in this worthy organization costs just $3.50.

"Friday" wouldn't last to the end of 1941, but while it lasted it was always a fun and fiesty read.

 

[Fading Fast]

Looking over the February 21, 1941 issue of "Friday: The Weekly Magazine That Dares To Tell The Truth" as I finish up my breakfast.

"Friday" was a labor-left photojournalism magazine designed to offer an alternative to the corporate-right point of view promoted by "Life." "Friday's" pages are larger, but the typography and layout closely recalls that of the Luce magazine, and the reporting style is very brisk and snappy. This particular issue features an image of the former US steamship "President Harding," recently sold to Great Britain -- a shot illustrating an expose of how not all the ships being sold to Britain by the US are being used for defense purposes: some have turned up in commercial shipping, in competition with American freighters.

Next, there's a look at the threat of rheumatic fever -- the number one killer of children in the US. You hear a lot about fear of polio during the Era, but rheumatic fever was seen as an even greater threat, thriving in conditions of poverty and malnutrition, and it reached epidemic proportions in the US during the 1940s. My uncle was one of its victims, and while he didn't die as a kid from it, he never fully recovered -- and it eventually led to his death at the age of 46.

Elsewhere in the issue, there's a look at the mounting naval threat posed by Japan to the Phillipines, and a review of the National Association of Manufacturers' campaign to control the content of American school textbooks and the related effort to slash funding for public education. Several photos illustrate various classroom scenes, including one of a group of teenage girls being instructed in military drill, and another depicting a group of grade-schoolers saluting the flag. Notably in this scene, the kids are performing neither the straight-arm Bellamy salute nor the hand over heart -- instead, they're giving the military salute even though none are wearing any type of uniform or headgear. Other scenes illustrate the shoddy condition of American schools, with cracked plaster, broken windows, and eroded brickwork in full view. One group of kids eats lunch in a dank, grimy, unfinished cellar -- exactly the same conditions I faced when I started elementary school in the late 1960s.

A fashion spread reveals that the new season's casual and sports clothes have less bulk and follow figure lines closely. Hand-crocheted brimmed hats or rabbit-fur turbans are the smart thing for headwear.

In the entertainment world, there's an examination of the "The Durbin Dilemma," the challenge faced by Universal Pictures in finding suitable roles for their top box office attraction Deanna Durbin now that she's ready for adult parts. "It is obvious," says the uncredited critic, "that she is not long for dolls and puppy love."

In sports, there's a profile of boxing authority Nat Fleischer, who displays his extensive collection of pugilistic artifacts. including a life-size cardboard standup figure of Jack Dempsey in a grey double-breasted suit, with which Nat likes to clown, and a sword-cane once owned by Jesse James. (I didn't know he was a boxer.)

On the editorial page, there's mention that a "Friday" investigation of Henry Ford's public mouthpiece W. J. Cameron and how he seems to have obtained his citizenship papers under fraudulent circumstances has sparked a Congressional probe into his status and his various Fascist connections. Under the heading "Paytriotism," there's mention of a federal committee's findings that the current aluminum shortage is not the result of national defense preparations, but the result of profiteering by the Aluminum Company of America -- which has been artificially suppressing the supply of the metal to jack up prices.

On the letter page, one Herman Wouk of New York City notes that, while he doesn't entirely agree with the magazine's editorial policy on some issues, "I respect any opinion vigorously expressed, withouth rancor or emotional balance. If I were Diogenes and ran into you, I would throw away my lantern and invite you into the nearest lunchwagon for talk over doughnuts and coffee.."

"Friday's" achilles heel was its lack of advertising -- its editorial policy ensured a boycott by NAM-affiliated advertisers, so there are very few ads to support the publication. One that's notable, though, is the back-cover ad for Consumers Union, an organization which faced an advertising boycott of its own -- magazines and newspapers terrified by the NAM's censorious fist refused to allow CU to buy ads. A years' membership in this worthy organization costs just $3.50.

"Friday" wouldn't last to the end of 1941, but while it lasted it was always a fun and fiesty read.

Funny, back in December, I watched Deanna Durbin in '45's "Lady on a Train," which TCM said was the studio and Durbin's attempt to transition her to an adult star. The film was fine, but silly and felt like a "B" not "A" movie and, while she was fine, she didn't scream major star.

Any chance the Herman Wouk noted is "the" Herman Wouk?

It's not crazy that companies wouldn't buy advertising in a magazine whose editorial stance denounced corporate America, is it? I rarely see much union advertising in Barron's. What I'm not clear on is the legality of a company using its clout to influence other companies. So, is it illegal for a car company to say to the NYT if you advertise in CU, I'll pull my ads from you?

 

[LizzieMaine]

That is indeed *the* Herman Wouk -- he was living in Manhattan then, working as a writer for Fred Allen's radio show, a job he held from 1937 until he went into the Navy in 1942. He's occasionally reflected on this period of his life, as a bright young man in his twenties making an ungodly amount of money for making up jokes as "a long dream in a feather bed."

I've never understood the Durbin cult -- which is even more vociferous among its adherents than the Garland cult. She was a good enough singer, but she wasn't Lily Pons or Maria Callas or even Jessica Dragonette, and much of her appeal was the idea of a little girl singing opera with such maturity. When she grew up, the whole thing kind of lost its point -- and to her credit, I think she herself realized this, and that's why she quit show business as completely as she did.

Certainly there's nothing illegal abotu refusing to sell advertising to a publication that would annoy your other advertisers -- but it rather strongly belies the idea promoted by the American press that it's a beacon of freedom and open thought. Censorship doesn't always come from the Government, as George Seldes so often observed.

"Friday" had a couple of other interesting aspects -- its publisher and editor, Dan Gillmor, is the father of current-day media critic Dan Gillmor Jr., who writes very perceptively about technology and digital media in a way that would have made his old man proud. And the business manager of "Friday" was a fellow by the name of Leverett Gleason -- who was a major force in comic books during the 1940s, putting out what's generally considered as the first comic magazine targeting an adult audience, "Crime Does Not Pay!" Gleason did very well for himself in the comics business until a combination of FBI harassment and the Comics Code Authority put him out of business.

 

[Fading Fast]

...Certainly there's nothing illegal abotu refusing to sell advertising to a publication that would annoy your other advertisers -- but it rather strongly belies the idea promoted by the American press that it's a beacon of freedom and open thought. Censorship doesn't always come from the Government, as George Seldes so often observed....

The apparent hypocrisy could be solved, IMHO, if the publications were honest about their policies. As a made up example, if Barron's doesn't advertise in a socialist paper because it would anger Barron's advertisers, then it should state that as a policy.

Freedom includes freedom to legally censor - nothing immoral or (apparently) illegal there. But as an organization, hiding what you are doing, at minimum, looks suspicious and that you are not proud of your own actions.

The Gov't is different as it has a monopoly on governing (law enforcing / adjudicating / etc.) that puts its actions in a different construct than a private company. Gov't censorship threatens all our freedom (the right might secretly love the gov't censoring the left, until the tables turn - for example), but if the NYT "censors" The Cato institute or vice versa (made up examples) - whatever.

The American press - like every other institution ever - has conflicts of interest that sincere people can disagree over. But we all know when something ugly comes to light.

Corporate America / unions / the Gov't / charities would all benefit from more honesty and transparency. Yes, there could be short-term pain (loss of short-term gain), but when the not-illegal-but-shady things come out, each institution looks horrible (and loses more than any short-term gain). And some things aren't bad, but look bad just by the fact that someone tried to hide them. If institutions forced more transparency on themselves (thoughtfully and with balance), they would be less likely to do short-term things that would blow up on them in the long term.

Cool that it was Wouk the author (always knew he leaned left ).

 

[LizzieMaine]

The Allen show in general had a pinkish tinge. Although Allen himself did not take public political stands he was pretty vociferous in his private letters about some of the things that were going on in the world, having a particular contempt for the views and the followers of Father Coughlin, and had an even greater contempt for listeners from the hookworm belt who would write him to complain about things like his allowing Joe Louis to call him "Fred" on the air. Wouk's writing partner Arnie Auerbach later collaborated with the noted labor songwriter Harold Rome in the successful Broadway show "Call Me Mister," a project that got him in trouble when Rome was blacklisted. And two key members of the Allen cast, Minerva "Mrs Nussbaum" Pious and John Brown, themselves saw their careers ended by the blacklist.

Given that he kept such company, it's rather remarkable that Wouk's own politics were not called into question, but he managed to get thru the early fifties without being red-baited.

 

[Fading Fast]

The Allen show in general had a pinkish tinge. Although Allen himself did not take public political stands he was pretty vociferous in his private letters about some of the things that were going on in the world, having a particular contempt for the views and the followers of Father Coughlin, and had an even greater contempt for listeners from the hookworm belt who would write him to complain about things like his allowing Joe Louis to call him "Fred" on the air. Wouk's writing partner Arnie Auerbach later collaborated with the noted labor songwriter Harold Rome in the successful Broadway show "Call Me Mister," a project that got him in trouble when Rome was blacklisted. And two key members of the Allen cast, Minerva "Mrs Nussbaum" Pious and John Brown, themselves saw their careers ended by the blacklist.

Given that he kept such company, it's rather remarkable that Wouk's own politics were not called into question, but he managed to get thru the early fifties without being red-baited.

To be fair (or, really, me trying to be fair), Wouk hardly fit in a neat right or left box.

The "Caine Mutiny's" real enemy wasn't the military or Queeg, but instead the young "intellectual" (probably liberal, fits the profile) who dismissed both the military and Queeg for not being up to his intellectual level while (in an early echo of Col Jessep, but not meant ironically) not respecting the hard, dangerous work the military and Queegs of the world do to protect the world of our young intellectual.

And "Youngblood Hawk" is all over the ideological map.