Photo of the Day: A Prized Pirate’s Locker, PNC Park, Pittsburgh

With this past weekend’s Baseball Hall of Fame induction of Jeff Kent, Carlos Beltran, and Andruw Jones, it seemed like an appropriate point to reflect on a place with reminders of its own Cooperstown members: Legacy Hall in PNC Park, home of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

As I mentioned in this post from the other day, a thunderstorm cut short my plans to watch the Bucs for the first time while I was on vacation earlier this month. 

But before finding my seat and waiting impatiently for the “Play Ball” call that never came, I spent a few minutes in Legacy Hall, a multi-use space filled with some great team memorabilia, with much of it not previously displayed at the ballpark.

Several Hall of Fame players are commemorated here, including Willie Stargell, Ralph Kiner, Honus Wagner, and Bill Mazerowski. But I’ll focus on one in this post: an original locker from the club’s prior home in Three Rivers Stadium, occupied by Roberto Clemente. Elsewhere in the city, a museum honors the life and legacy of this great ballplayer and humanitarian.

But fans will still want to look and linger at what is on display honoring him at Legacy Hall: his uniform, jacket, cap, cleats, photos, and a bat—emblematic of a consistent and superb hitter who won four batting titles and collected 3,000 hits.

These days, Latinos and Hispanics make up anywhere from a quarter to a third of players in major league baseball. But Clemente was the first superstar of the group. What this proud and sensitive man had to endure from the media then was shameful and would not be tolerated today.

It took a while for Clemente’s skills to be noticed in a bumper crop among a bumper crop of contemporary outfielders that included Willie Mays, Henry Aaron, Mickey Mantle, and Frank Robinson, but eventually his performance at the plate and on the field in the 1971 World Series exposed to a nationwide audience the greatness that so many in baseball had recognized since his debut in 1955.

His statistics and leadership had already made Clemente a basement legend. 

But his death on board a plane carrying supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua during the Christmas season of 1972 lifted him to the status of role model and icon, much like the New York Yankees’ Lou Gehrig—the only other player that Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame board explicitly waived its five-year rule for consideration to major league baseball’s Valhalla.

Quote of the Day (Alexander Pope, Uniquely Translating the Circe Episode in Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’)

“The goddess, rising, asks her guests to stay,
Who blindly follow where she leads the way.
Eurylochus alone of all the band,
Suspecting fraud, more prudently remain’d.
On thrones around with downy coverings graced,
With semblance fair, the unhappy men she placed.
Milk newly press’d, the sacred flour of wheat,
And honey fresh, and Pramnian wines the treat:
But venom’d was the bread, and mix’d the bowl,
With drugs of force to darken all the soul:
Soon in the luscious feast themselves they lost,
And drank oblivion of their native coast.
Instant her circling wand the goddess waves,
To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives.
No more was seen the human form divine;
Head, face, and members, bristle into swine:
Still cursed with sense, their minds remain alone,
And their own voice affrights them when they groan.
Meanwhile the goddess in disdain bestows
The mast and acorn, brutal food! and strows
The fruits and cornel, as their feast, around;
Now prone and grovelling on unsavoury ground.”—English poet Alexander Pope (1688-1744), translation of Homer’s The Odyssey (1726)
 
I’ve had one inquiry so far about whether I’ve seen Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of The Odyssey and if so, what I thought of it. So, here goes:
 
Yes, I saw it over the weekend and don’t regret doing so. On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 the highest, I gave it 7 1/2 to 8 stars. The visuals and special effects were superb, as was much of the acting.
 
But at least 30 minutes could have been cut, and much of the dialogue was muffled by the ambient noise in the environment around the characters. Maureen Dowd’s column on Sunday was correct about all its deviations from the original.
 
Still, Hollywood has done far worse in adapting classics, and it wasn’t as painful for me to experience as Richmond Lattimore’s translations of The Iliad and The Odyssey in my college Literary Humanities course. (Achilles in his tent didn’t pout half so much as I at the prospect of enduring Homer’s endless repetitions, rendered by Lattimore with teeth-gnashing fidelity.)
 
With Hollywood’s latest attempt at Homer, the 2017 translation of The Odyssey by Emily Wilson has attracted the lion's share of attention, with retrospective respect given previous ones by Robert Fitzgerald and Robert Fagles.
 
Virtually nobody has talked about Alexander Pope’s, published in five volumes in 1725 and 1726 (with the help of two collaborators), though it was celebrated as a literary masterpiece, and an improvement on prior translations) in its time. With the poet’s characteristic rhyming couplets, the cliché is that it’s far more Pope than Homer.
 
Though Lattimore’s translation is supposed to be extremely faithful to the original Greek, with its hexameter meter and repeated use of epithets, I found the passage from Pope of one of the most famous episodes from the book (and one of the most memorable scenes from the Nolan film) powerful—perhaps because the couplets exert tremendous compact force. 

It’s difficult to top, for instance, these lines about the sorceress Circe: “Instant her circling wand the goddess waves,/To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives.”
 
Pope’s Homer translations were not covered in the English Restoration literature class I took in college, nor in the university’s Literary Humanities curriculum. But based on the passage above, at least, they can still be read with great pleasure.
 
(The image accompanying this post shows Samantha Morton as Circe in Christopher Nolan’s film.)

Quote of the Day (Jimmy Breslin, on the Original Mets as Lovable Losers)

“You see, the Mets are losers, just like nearly everybody else in life. This is a team for the cab driver who gets held up and the guy who loses out on a promotion because he didn't maneuver himself to lunch with the boss enough. It is the team for every guy who has to get out of bed in the morning and go to work for short money on a job he does not like. And it is the team for every woman who looks up ten years later and sees her husband eating dinner in a t-shirt and wonders how the hell she ever let this guy talk her into getting married. The Yankees? Who does well enough to root for them, Laurence Rockefeller?” —Pulitzer Prize-winning American columnist and novelist Jimmy Breslin (1928-2017), Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets' First Year (1963)

In the late 1970s, when Jimmy Breslin accepted an award from my college newspaper, he described the astounding experience of covering the 1962 New York Mets, or, as he called them, “the worst baseball team in the history of the universe.”

As the above paragraph indicates, that version of the Amazin’s acquired a certain cachet as classic underdogs. Nothing could help them, as they staggered to a 40-120 record, 10^th and last in the National League, and so far from first place (60½ games!!!!) that they could have used a telescope to find it.

As this year’s major league baseball trade deadline approaches, the 2026 squad doesn’t remotely approach it in ineptitude, but it doesn’t come near it in lovability, either. 

As I type this, their record stands at 44-62, placing them last in the National League East, 18½ games behind their divisional rivals, the Atlanta Braves. With hyperexpensive (signed to a 15-year, $765 million) right fielder Juan Soto going on the injured list for a second time this season, the squad is extremely unlikely to make a late-season run for anything except the exit ramp.

Owner Steve Cohen must be gnashing his teeth over his dismal return on investment. Their sorry mid-season mark comes for a franchise that, at $367.9 million, ranks second only to the World Series champion Los Angeles Dodgers as having the highest payroll in major league baseball, even surpassing that of their hated crosstown rivals, the New York Yankees.

The 1992 Mets season was so disappointing (a $45 million payroll combined with a 72-90 record) that few people could argue with the title that sportswriters Bob Klapisch and John Harper came up with the following year for their account: The Worst Team Money Could Buy. One hates to think of the title for any prospective postmortem of this year.

Photo of the Day: Fireworks Display, PNC Park, Pittsburgh PA

I took the image accompanying this post a little over two weeks ago, while visiting a close relative in Pittsburgh. Several times before, I had been impressed by the exterior of the home of the Pittsburgh Pirates, PNC Park.

With its setting along the Allegheny River, statues paying tribute to several Hall of Famers with the club, and easy access to multiple points in the Smoky City, the ballpark, which opened in spring 2001, struck me as a picturesque throwback to old-time baseball venues, much like Baltimore’s Camden Yards.

Yet I had yet to see a game there, until a few days after the Fourth of July, when the Pirates were to square off against the Milwaukee Brewers, ahead of them by a dozen games in the National League Central Division. 

It promised to be a pivotal series, with any hope for the home team making the playoffs, even as a wild-card contender, starting here. To underscore the dramatics involved, there would even be a fireworks display at the ballpark.

So much for the best-laid plans of mice and men.

By mid-afternoon, the Pittsburgh area was drenched in a thunderstorm that didn’t dissipate until  6:30. Fans still poured into the stands, optimistic that at the end of the hour-long rain delay would  eventually lead to the cry, “Play ball!”

That hope lasted until the announcer’s voice came on the loudspeaker: “The good news is that the planned fireworks display will take place in 10 minutes….”

The fans who had patiently sat through the rain delay already sensed what the rest of the announcement would be—“But tonight’s game will be rescheduled”—and promptly began booing. They had waited long enough, and could see on the weather apps on their cell phones that it was unlikely more rain would follow. They were not happy.

That game was to be my first attending a Pirates game. Now, with me heading out of town the next morning, it would have to wait a while longer—perhaps next season.

Well, sometimes in life you have to endure disappointments—like rainouts—and sometimes there are compensations—like the gorgeous multi-color display seen here on a warm summer night over one of America’s great rivers.

Spiritual Quote of the Day (Dr. Michael Chan, on Moses, Truth, and National Memory)

“The future of a people depends on the truthfulness of their memory. A forgetful nation is a fragile nation. Moses urged the people to remember the good, the bad and the ugly. Moses said that remembrance precedes promise. We have our own Jordan to cross. We need to reconnect with all our history to see how we got here. There is so much to celebrate, to repair and to be done.” —Dr. Michael Chan, executive director for faith and learning at Concordia College, in an address at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York, July 12, 2026, quoted by Mary Lee Talbot, “Quality of Our Future Dependson the Quality of Our Memory, Says Michael Chan,” The Chautauquan Daily, July 13, 2026

Theater Review: ‘Mean Girls’ (The Musical), From the Pittsburgh CLO

It’s hard to believe that the film comedy Mean Girls is two decades old now. Somehow, it had escaped my attention that screenwriter Tina Fey had also written the “book” for a musical adaptation that premiered on Broadway in 2018.

Maybe because it came out in January 2024, when audience attention traditionally turns to Oscar hopefuls, but not many people paid much mind when the musical itself became a big-screen vehicle. It did decent but not great business. 

Critics noted sourly that Fey’s original tart observations were now more likely to become lost in the musical collaborators’ heavy-handed moralizing about wicked high-school cliques.

I wasn’t really prepared, then, when earlier this month, I saw the high-energy production mounted by the Pittsburgh CLO as part of its summer season. (The other Broadway imports were Beautiful: The Carole King Musical, and Snuffs.)

It’s not necessarily remarkable that, Mean Girls, like the other two shows, was put together in only about a week. But it is astounding that a production with roughly 20 speaking parts and vigorous choreography was produced with none of the seams showing. So much credit goes to director Mara Newbery Greer.

The main character, Cady (adeptly played by Abigail Isom), is a home-schooled transfer from Kenya, but nothing she has seen in Africa with her parents prepares her for the jungle that is American high-school life. (One of the show’s tongue-in-cheek props is a lion’s head, a stand-in for the school’s athletic nickname.)

A fish out of water, Cady is initially courted by a pair of school misfits, Damian (Jack Haroutunian) and Janis (Lyda Jade Harlan), but at their urging begins spying on a clique of popular girls, the Plastics—until she becomes every bit as bad as this trio of “shiny, fake, and hard” teen tormenters.

As Regina, the “Apex Predator” of the Plastics, Landry Champlin was a formidable presence, lording it over her hangers-on and seething with resentment—at the parent who desperately styles herself a “cool mom,” at a boyfriend whose affection she squandered, and at the clique kingdom from which she finds herself exiled through an embarrassing incident aired on social media. She turned her big solo, “World Burn,” into a sizzling revenge tale.

Sydni Moon endowed Regina acolyte Gretchen with an aching desire to belong and matter in her number, “What’s Wrong With Me?” Rounding out the original Plastics trio, Kaley Bender took Karen from mere shallowness to an avatar of the Blonde Bimbo.

Harlan and Haroutunian may have played characters who didn’t fit into the school’s fabric, but this show certainly provided the actors with multiple opportunities to shine, with the show’s intro number, “Mean,” and Janis’ defiant assertion of self-respect, “I’d Rather Be Me”—and Haroutunian, under the guidance of choreographer Dana Solimando, displaying quite a talent for tap.

The show I attended featured a post-show “talk-back” with cast members and other creative talent. One highlight was cast member Jennifer Lybarger, who, though she took on three adult adult roles in the show—Mrs. George, Mrs. Herron, and Ms. Norbury—could have been forgiven for identifying the most with the last of these figures, the teacher who serves in effect as Ms. Fey’s mouthpiece.

Ms. Lybarger, it turns out, spent the last several years directing at the Pittsburgh CLO Academy—and was justifiably proud that five of her former students found spots on this expertly executed production.

Quote of the Day (Elliot Ackerman, on ‘The Stories We Tell About War’)

“The stories we tell about war are really important to the decisions we make around war.”—American Marine veteran-turned-novelist Elliot Ackerman, quoted by Emily Bobrow, “Weekend Confidential: Elliot Ackerman,’” The Wall Street Journal, May 20-21, 2021

What stories did Donald Trump hear about war that led him to commit American forces to Iran? What made him think the outcome would be better than the “forever wars” in Iraq and Afghanistan that he criticized in his Presidential campaigns?

The image accompanying this post, of Elliot Ackerman at the 2015 Texas Book Festival in Austin, Texas, was taken on Oct. 18, 2015, by Larry D. Moore.

Photo of the Day: Two Kinds of Toxic Environment

I took the image accompanying this post a week ago while I was still on vacation at the Chautauqua Institution, a lovely enclosed upstate New York community with numerous Victorian cottages that have helped make this picturesque place a National Historic Landmark.

As much as its cultural and intellectual atmosphere, habitual visitors glory in its physical environment. For the 30-odd years that I have come up here, I have made it a point, as long as the rain is holding off, to take daily brisk walks by Chautauqua Lake.

Until the last three days of this vacation, that is.

In the background, a particle-laden, milky uniformity had replaced sunlight streaks of the morning horizon. Never mind a wide view of what lay upon the waters: as you can observe in this image, nothing could be seen beyond the boats lined up at the marina.

Probably at no time, I suspect, since the height of COVID-19 up here, masks were being distributed and gratefully worn by many visitors on the grounds.

The first day of the wildfire, the designation was “Dangerous for Certain Groups”; the following day, the label became simply “Dangerous”: and by the third, the bad air quality had turned sufficiently dreadful to earn the term “Hazardous.”

This photo renders in literal terms a toxic physical environment. But it symbolizes what has increasingly become a toxic diplomatic one, as well.

At this moment, Donald Trump has chosen to do what he does best: make a bad situation worse. He’s taking literally the satirical South Park song “Blame Canada,” but without an iota of logic. Our nation up north is responsible for not maintaining its forests properly, he claims.

That’s pretty rich, coming from a President who has already laid off thousands of U.S. Forest Service workers and whose 2027 budget includes cuts of more than 70% to the agency. But his rationale would be hideous in any case because he refuses to accept the reality of human-caused climate change.

Super-hot temperatures in the areas around the wildfires, together with dry vegetation, resulted in “functioned like a chimney, a super long chimney shooting smoke into the upper atmosphere and then the jet stream” and then found its way to the US, according to Ava Berger’s NPR report last week.

This is a situation that calls for international cooperation to address causes, not finger-pointing—unless you’re Trump. Then he tells citizens of a country that he has not-so-jokingly called to be annexed into the U.S. that he’s going to levy “a big tariff” on their nation for the wildfires crossing the border.

Trump has turned the Ugly American stereotype of the Vietnam War era into an actuality. His default reflex—to blow smoke every time he finds himself in a difficult situation—has become literal this time, and it’s losing the U.S. a neighbor and friend it could always count on.

The smoky air has cleared from beautiful Chautauqua Lake, as well as other areas affected in the northern part of the U.S. last week. But before the end of this second Trump term, you can count on it coming back, perhaps at more hazardous levels.

And Americans had better accept that it’s going to take longer before the effects of Trump’s careless, toxic rhetoric dissipate.

From now on, traditional allies like Canada are entitled to wonder what got into Americans that they put in the White House a charlatan like Trump twice—and whether the Republican Party he has remolded in his image will nominate as his successor someone equally wedded to his agenda of environmental callousness and diplomatic exploitation.

TV Quote of the Day (Reiner and Brooks, With the 2,000-Year-Old Man on Ancient Matrimony)

Carl Reiner: “We know that many, many hundreds of years ago, most men had more than one wife.”

The 2,000-Year-Old Man [played by Mel Brooks]: “Yeah!”

Reiner: “Did you practice polygamy in those days?”

The 2,000-Year-Old Man: “I never practiced it. I was perfect at it!”—Reiner and Brooks with their “2,000-Year-Old Man” routine, The Hollywood Palace, Season 4, Episode 2, original air date Sept. 24, 1966

I had heard bits of the classic Carl Reiner-Mel Brooks routine (captured on five albums released between 1960 and 1997) but was reminded of this short section when I was recently visiting the National Comedy Center in Jamestown, NY.

Though I have gone through this wonderful museum a couple of times before, this was the first occasion I had to see their section on Reiner.  It was a great reminder of just how influential he was, on TV and film, over several decades.

Influenced by the example of his longtime friend Reiner, Brooks is also turning over many of his artifacts to the comedy museum. Once its curators have had a choice to sample these wares, the resulting display should be something to see.

Quote of the Day (John Gray, on History, ‘The First Victim in Dictatorships’)

“[H]istory is the first victim in dictatorships. Because perceptions of the past constantly and inevitably impinge on contemporary debate, we depend on historians to provide us with a richness and variety of grounding. Historians should not be too complacent about their ability to do it….Then again most historians have led sheltered lives, few have gained the insights offered by actual experience of popular engagement, and inevitably most of the historical record they work with was created by the elite. Yet history without any realised sense of the experience of the underclass, or, say, of women, is only half a history….I wouldn’t suggest supernatural predictive powers for historians. In my part of the world [Northern Ireland], we know enough of the tyranny of biblical prediction to too readily adopt other formulaic certainties. What we can usefully do is to point to other possibilities in the face of any prevailing consensus. We will serve best if we engage in an endless process of exploration, of critical assessment of what has gone before, of self-criticism to the point where it is just still possible to write—to move our understanding of the human condition forward. In doing so we engage in the one inevitable feature of the process; that revisionism will always be followed by post-revisionism.”—Belfast social historian, civil-rights activist and former librarian John Gray interviewed by Peter Collins, “Gray’s Elegy,” History Ireland, Spring 1999

Quote of the Day (Pianist Ilya Itin, on Music ‘Created in the Being of Listeners’)

“When we gather and listen together, we experience something bigger than us. It doesn’t mean we all experience the same thing — we have different backgrounds, thinkings, emotional makeup. But there’s something when we’re in that world, music is created in the being of listeners. It’s not the performer, it is the listener.”—Russian classical pianist Ilya Itin quoted by Cody Englander, “Ilya Itin to Perform Moving Pieces by Scriabin, Rachmaninoff,” The Chautauquan Daily, July 14, 2026

The image of Ilya Itin accompanying this post was taken in 2010 by Roy Quesada.

Photo of the Day: Troy Hill Incline Steps, Pittsburgh PA

About a decade ago, vacationing to see a close relative in Pittsburgh, I visited the Duquesne Incline, one of the last remnants of a once-common form of transportation in the Smoky City. Over a week ago, I saw another one reminder of these 24 massive structures that once moved goods and people up and down this city’s many steep hills: the steps around the Troy Hill Incline.

Unlike the Duquesne Incline, which remains operational nearly 150 years after it was built, the Troy Hill Incline lasted only from 1887 to 1898. 

When I took the attached photo on my recent visit to Pittsburgh, it was easy for me to imagine the necessity for this mode of transportation and the skill required to build it.

Trust me: the Troy Hill neighborhood (part of independent Allegheny City before being absorbed by Pittsburgh) is an acrophobe’s nightmare. 

Rialto Street (nicknamed “Pig Hill”), for instance, the fifth-steepest street in the city, ascends 118 feet, with a grade or steepness level of 24%. It’s a narrow, two-lane thoroughfare Thank God I wasn’t the one driving around there.

Its incline was built by Samuel Diescher, a Hungarian-American engineer responsible for 10 inclines in Pittsburgh alone. The tracks—partly laid on the ground, partly on wooden trestles—handled both freight and passengers with a 15-ton capacity. The building cost: $94,000. 

For a while, it seemed like a godsend for workers in this blue-collar enclave who didn’t have to trudge up what must have felt like a Himalayan height at the end of a long, weary day in area mills, tanneries, breweries, and railroad yards.

In contrast to other inclines, the one serving Troy Hill didn’t shut down because of safety concerns. Instead, low ridership, maintenance costs, and competition from expanding streetcar lines combined to undercut profitability. 

The tracks were eventually removed, but the physical geography of the neighborhood makes it unlikely that the legend of the Troy Hill Incline will disappear from the minds of Pittsburgh residents.

Quote of the Day (Marie Arana, on the Accomplishments and Presence of Latinos in the U.S.)

"These [scientific advances such as the electronic microscope, birth control and developments leading to brain surgery] are accomplishments that aren't written.  They’re not in textbooks. My mission has always been to educate Americans, make ourselves known. We have been for so long, many years, so many decades, and so many centuries people have said, ‘Who are you anyway?’ and we’ve always been perceived as newcomers. We’ve been here all along."— Author, editor, journalist, and critic Marie Arana, in a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York, quoted by Nora Smith, “Arana Presents ‘Latinoland’: ‘We’ve Been Here All Along,” The Chautauquan Daily, July 18-19, 2026

The image accompanying this post, of Marie Arana at the 2019 Texas Book Festival in Austin, Texas, was taken Oct. 26, 2019, by Larry D. Moore.

TV Quote of the Day (‘Friends,’ in an Apartment Trivia Game)

[The friends are engaged in an increasingly high-stakes apartment trivia game.]

Ross Geller [played by David Schwimmer]: “What is Chandler Bing's job?”

Rachel Green [played by Jennifer Aniston] [long pause] “Oooh... oh gosh, it has something to do with numbers...”

Monica Geller [played by Courteney Cox]: “And processing!”

Rachel: “And he carries a briefcase...”

Ross: “10 seconds or you'll lose the game.”

Monica [frantically]: “Something to do with transponding...”

Rachel: “Oh oh... he's a trans... a transponster!”

Monica: “THAT'S NOT EVEN A WORD!”—Friends, Season 4, Episode 12, “The One With the Embryos,” original air date Jan. 15, 1998, teleplay by Jill Condon and Amy Toomin Straus, directed by Kevin Bright

Spiritual Quote of the Day (St. Paul to Timothy, Praying for ‘All Those in Authority’)

“I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.”— 1 Timothy 2:1-2 (New International Version)

St. Paul had good reason to appeal to officeholders at all levels: to the extent that he was able to move about freely and preach to any extent, it was because, according to the Acts of the Apostles, he invoked at key moments his legal status as a Roman citizen as protection against the persecution already enveloping the early Christian community.

In the end he could not escape martyrdom, any more than modern Christians around the world are able to placate political authorities. Denunciations, harassment, and even death continue to await so many.

The 1612 image accompanying this post, Apostle St. Paul, was painted by the Spanish Renaissance painter, sculptor, and architect El Greco (1541-1614), and hangs in Museo del Greco, Toledo, Spain.

Quote of the Day (Robert Kaplan, on How Travel Is Like a Good Book)

“Travel is like a good, challenging book: it demands presentness—the ability to live completely in the moment, absorbed in the words or vision of reality before you. And like serious reading itself, travel has become an act of resistance against the distractions of the electronic age, and against all the worries that weigh us down, thanks to that age. A good book deserves to be finished, just as a haunting landscape tempts further experience of it, and further research into it. Travel and serious reading, because they demand sustained focus, stand athwart the nonexistent attention spans that deface our current time on Earth.”— American travel and foreign-affairs writer Robert D. Kaplan, “Being There,” The Atlantic, November 2012

The image accompanying this post, of Robert D. Kaplan speaking at the U.S. Naval War College, was taken on June 17, 2014, by Rosalie Bolender.

Quote of the Day (Pamela Paul, on ‘The Dudebro Candidate’)

“Broadly speaking, the dudebro candidate is more about vibes and style than about policy or platform. Picking up on the attitude and aesthetics of the manosphere, he is out to court attention, the tonal opposite of politic or cautious. This is a guy who openly disparages the need to watch what you say—and that's part of the appeal. Running for office almost as an act of defiance, the dudebro offers a potent brew of strong masculine energy, cross-party populist fury, frat-boy antics and straight-talk authenticity.”— American journalist, correspondent, editor, and author Pamela Paul, “Politics With Swagger. Meet the Dudebros,” The Wall Street Journal, June 13-14, 2026

First, the “Tech Bros”; now, “The Dudebros.” I wish the whole bunch would just bro away!

Well, one such “Dudebro,” reality TV star Spencer Pratt lost his bid for LA Mayor a month ago—and, by the end of the week, one more is likely to fall by the wayside. All kind of questions had been swirling about the Democratic primary winner for U.S. Senator from Maine, Graham Platner, even before the weekend.

But now, with a claim from a woman he dated that he had raped her several years ago—and the subsequent withdrawal of endorsements by prominent Democrats and a threat by the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee not to invest in his campaign if he remains on the ballot—it’s hard to see him continuing.

Pamela Paul identifies Donald Trump as the prototype “dudebro candidate,” though I would argue that the real forerunner of this type was former wrestler turned Minnesota Governor Jesse Ventura.

In any case, Trump won’t be going away any time, insulated from accountability by an acquiescent Supreme Court and GOP majorities in the House and Senate, as well as from so many gaffes and missteps that anyone else would have disappeared from the scene a long time ago. 

(Consider this: while Platner has one unadjudicated sexual assault charge against him, Trump has had at least two dozen women who accused him of sexual misconduct---and a civil jury found him liable for sexual abuse against E. Jean Carroll.)

The “Tech Bros” are unlucky to go away any time soon, either—unless one or more fall out with Trump, as almost happened with Elon Musk.

“Frat-boy antics” might be one description for this entire crew, but I prefer “obnoxiousness.” It’s an indictment of our time that these men are able to come out of nowhere and be seriously considered for high positions in government or business.

(The image accompanying this post, showing Pamela Paul at the 2019 Texas Book Festival in Austin, Texas, was taken Oct. 26, 2019, by Larry D. Moore.)

Movie Quote of the Day (‘Legally Blonde,’ As Elle Grills the Star Prosecution Witness)

Elle Woods [played by Reese Witherspoon]: “Isn't the first cardinal rule of perm maintenance that you're forbidden to wet your hair for at least 24 hours after getting a perm at the risk of deactivating the ammonium thioglycolate?”—Legally Blonde (2001), screenplay by Amanda Brown, Karen McCullah, and Kirsten Smith, directed by Robert Luketic

Twenty-five years ago this month, the uproarious comedy Legally Blonde premiered. I don’t think the legal profession has quite recovered in the years since!

Spiritual Quote of the Day (St. Paul to the Romans, on Creation and Hope)

“We know that the whole creation has been groaning in travail together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”—Romans 8: 22-25 (Revised Standard Version)

The 1612 image accompanying this post, Apostle St. Paul, was painted by the Spanish Renaissance painter, sculptor, and architect El Greco (1541-1614), and hangs in Museo del Greco, Toledo, Spain.

This Day in Radio History (Pioneering Female DJ Alison Steele Debuts on WNEW-FM)

July 4, 1966—Complying with a directive from the Federal Communications Commission that FM stations could no longer simulcast programming from their AM station counterparts, WNEW-FM coupled something tried and true—pop music in a middle-of-the-road (MOR) with something new: an all-female roster of deejays.

A member of this unusual group made this declaration on that Independence Day:

“Hello New York and America, this is WNEW-FM ... Where the girls are ... Welcome to history.”

The background and selection of that early group—actresses, models, and assorted TV personalities—represent a long, fascinating story in and of itself, which Dan McCue relates in this Substack post from this March.

But I want to focus on the one who delivered the above greeting, survived the format switch and mass replacement by male DJS a year later and, amid an employment environment far different from today, created a template that other females in the role pursued: Alison Steele.

To say that Steele was the first woman to win Billboard’s FM Personality of the Year in 1976 and that she was an inductee in the Radio Hall of Fame and Rock and Rock Hall of Fame doesn’t begin to describe the place she held in the imagination of faithful listeners.

You had to experience it, night after night, at your most restless and searching when you were unwilling or unable to sleep.

At the time of her hiring, Steele, a divorced single mom with a nine-year-old daughter, trailed a set of broadcasting gigs behind her: office aide, production assistant and associate producer at a New York radio station, morning exercise program leader, and, in the parlance of the day, “weather girl.”

“I was determined to be in show biz; I would do anything,” she told Su Yates of TV/Radio Week in an August 1978 interview. The Brooklyn native had been taught well by her mother, a singer and concert pianist: “She taught me a very simple rule: If I wanted something, all I had to do was go and get it.”

The entertainment world is filled with ambitious, hard-driving people who are sure that with one break, they can vault to the top of their profession.

But Steele’s willingness to try something different in that first year in her 2 pm-7 PM—theater reviews, celebrity interviews, whatever might reasonably hold a listener’s interest—may have impressed her bosses that she would be a quick study when they instituted a free-form, progressive-rock format in October 1967.

Once given her new perch from 10 PM to 2 AM six nights a week, she demonstrated the intelligence to craft an utterly individual on-air personality, signaled in her characteristic opening—a jazzy, flute-inflected melody followed by an intro she herself wrote and made famous throughout the New York City area, that, with some variations, went like this:

"The flutter of wings, the sounds of the night, the shadow across the moon, as the Nightbird lifts her wings and soars above the earth into another level of comprehension, where we exist only to feel. Come fly with me, Alison Steele, the Nightbird..."

During my adolescence more than 50 years ago, WNEW was the New York station you listened to be cool, to hear concert simulcasts, musician interviews, and most tellingly, cuts from up-and-coming artists. Truth be told, I was more familiar with Steele’s male on-air colleagues because of the early hours I needed to maintain for school.

But I stayed up for the first hour or so to hear where her inclinations took her—spinning records by Yes, Genesis, The Moody Blues, Santana, and the Grateful Dead, interviewing Thin Lizzy, KISS, and Moody Blues bass guitarist John Lodge, and reading Poe, Wordsworth, Ginsberg, and Shakespeare—all in that voice.

That voice—low, honeyed, sultry, as if Lauren Bacall or Kathleen Turner were purring directly to you. (Luckily, listeners only heard her purr and not her French poodle, Genya, chewing on a bone in the studio near her.)

Her aural allure was matched by a physical one, marked by flaming red hair and bohemian attire: suede fringed vests, leather skirts, bell-bottom jeans, and flowing velvet materials. No wonder she was rumored to have dated Frank Sinatra, Johnny Carson, Sean Connery and a few rock stars.

It’s been 25 years since I read veteran DJ Richard Neer’s memoir of working at the station, FM: The Rise and Fall of Rock Radio, but I can still vividly recall this passage:

“There was once a summer concert in Central Park when [Steele] wore a thin leather halter top, a leather bikini bottom, with high boots and a bare midriff. Boys were literally falling out of trees to get a better look.”

Unlike her high-living colleagues, Neer also notes, she was never “intoxicated by anything more than a New York Rangers victory.”

During those first years on the job, Steele disclaimed negativity (“I’ve always gone by the idea that there’s something fine in life, but you have to make the effort to find what it is,” she told K. Michael Blumberg in a 1974 New York Daily News profile).

She never wrote a memoir, as another DJ, Meg Griffin, for instance, urged. But in later years, after The Nightbird had flown from WNEW, she slipped hints about the sexism and bruises along the way.

“She was burned badly a few times,” recalled Griffin. “She lost several opportunities because she was a woman, and I don’t think that’s something you forget. She’d always tell me women had to work twice as many hours and be 10 times as good to be noticed in radio.

She related additional frustrations to women’s studies scholar and author Becca Anderson, observing that at a Madison Square Garden concert, “I was the last person be introduced. So they [her fellow male WNEW deejays] were all on stage when they introduced Alison Steele, ‘The Nightbird.’” They had to wait while the crowd cheered wildly for her.

There were also petty annoyances, as when station management wouldn’t buy her a step stool so she could reach records on the top shelf, or not giving her the night off to accept her Billboard award.

Management and, perhaps, some of her fellow DJs may have felt annoyed over the attention this radio pioneer received. But it’s doubtful that any of them ever inspired, as she did, at least three fictional nighttime deejay characters on TV and screen:

*Angie, a female trucker who worked with the air name of “The Nightingale” on BJ and the Bear;

*Rita McCall, a controversial personality who draws the attention of a murderous stalker in the Kojak episode "A Strange Kind of Love"; and

*Stevie Wayne, a smalltown deejay with a beguiling voice that Adrienne Barbeau patterned after Steele, in John Carpenter’s 1980 horror film The Fog.

By the end of the 1970s, WNEW and the Nightbird came to a parting of the ways. According to Neer’s account, the station asked him whether her extensive outside activities (public appearances and producing radio and syndicated TV shows) were distracting her from the work.

For her part, Steele could see a rising demand that deejays move away from the free-form format that emphasized personality-driven selections and towards homogenized choices. So, after 13 years, she left the station that made her famous in September 1979.

Her remaining 15 years were more nomadic—a stint announcing the soap opera One Life to Live, commercials (again), serving as writer, producer, and correspondent for CNN’s entertainment and lifestyle program, Limelight, and returning to her “Nightbird” roots at 92.3 K-Rock in the late 1980s. Increasingly, they were also darkened by health concerns.

Psychologist Dr. Patricia Farrell recalled becoming acquainted with Steele after meeting her on a late-night talk show, Last Call. Off the air, Steele confided that she had cancer and “was convinced that her job and the discrimination she had to battle in the industry had caused it.”

Her “vacations” had become trips to Lenox Hill Hospital. Exhausted from the chemo, she should have taken time off but couldn’t because she needed the health insurance.

The driven woman who’d become a radio legend and role model for later female deejays Carol Miller, Jody Peterson, and Rita Houston should have had a happier ending than death at age 58. 

Rock died some time ago at WNEW, but it continues to live in the memories of Steele’s listeners, who would agree with how colleague Vin Scelsa characterized her in a tribute:

“In her undying devotion to her audience, Alison was unique. She was one of the last purveyors of the utopian, communal vision of radio.”

Quote of the Day (John Quincy Adams, on the Deaths of His Father and Thomas Jefferson)

“[Tavernkeeper John] Merrill told me that he had come this morning out from Baltimore, and was informed there that my father died on the fourth of this Month, about five o’clock in the afternoon. From the Letters which I had yesterday received this event was so much expected by me, that it had no sudden and violent effect on my feelings— My father had nearly closed the ninety-first year of his life: A life illustrious in the Annals of his Country, and of the World— He had served to great and useful purpose his Nation, his Age, and his God— He is gone, and may the blessing of Almighty Grace have attended him to his Account— I say not, may my last End be like his! it were presumptuous— The time, the manner, the coincidence with the decease of Jefferson, are visible and palpable marks of divine favour, for which I would humble myself in grateful and silent adoration before the Ruler of the Universe— For myself all that I dare to ask is that I may live the remnant of my days in a manner worthy of him from whom I came, and at the appointed hour of my maker die as my father has died; in peace with God and man, sped to the regions of futurity with the blessings of my fellow men.”—John Quincy Adams (1767-1848), Sixth President of the United States, diary entry for July 9, 1826, in Diaries 1821-1848, edited by David Waldstreicher (2017)

Many Americans felt similarly to John Quincy Adams: that the deaths of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, both on the 50^th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, were “visible and palpable marks of divine favour” on the United States.

Many of my readers will know that Jefferson had died at 12:50 pm, and that John Adams—who had reconciled with his longtime friend turned political rival the decade before—passed away later in the afternoon, unaware of what had happened in Virginia, with the words, “Jefferson still survives.”

Fewer people will know that, because of the still-slow state of overland communication in those days, John Quincy Adams, in Washington, was unaware of Jefferson’s death in Charlottesville 117 miles away. And it would not be for another three days when John Quincy learned of his father’s death at the family home in Massachusetts, 447 miles away.

When John Quincy Adams passed 22 years later, the news spread far more quickly, because the first links between major Eastern cities had been established for the telegraph, which Samuel Morse had publicly demonstrated in 1844. (See this 1999 C-Span clip for how the new invention was used so dramatically for what became a true “media event.”)

The younger Adams—who, like his father (and unlike Jefferson), was turned out of the White House after one miserable term—did indeed, as he hoped, “live the remnant of my days in a manner worthy of him from whom I came.” As the last prominent living link to the American Revolution, he lent tremendous prestige to the antislavery cause.

He was, in fact, engaged in another front in his struggle against slavery—a House of Representatives vote related to the Mexican War—when he was felled by a fatal stroke. 

By this time, this former President, after a long public career marked by controversy, was hailed as “Old Man Eloquent” by admirers and even recognized by opponents as a debater and legislator of formidable passion and shrewdness.

In its way, his last words were as memorable as those of his revered father: “This is the last of earth, but I am composed."

(The image accompanying this post is a detail from John Trumbull's 1818 painting of the Committee of Five presenting their draft of the Declaration of Independence to the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia. From left to right, the figures are: John Adams, Roger Sherman, Robert Livingston, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin.)

Song Lyric of the Day (Francis Hopkinson, Sending Up Redcoat Readiness in the Revolution)

“A soldier stood on a log of wood,
               And saw a thing surprising.
 
              As in amaze he stood to gaze,
               The truth can't be denied, sir,
              He spied a score of kegs or more
               Come floating down the tide, sir.
 
              A sailor too in jerkin blue,
               This strange appearance viewing,
              First damned his eyes, in great surprise,
               Then said, ‘Some mischief's brewing.
 
              "These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold,
               Packed up like pickled herring;
              And they're come down to attack the town,
               In this new way of ferrying.’ 
 
              The soldier flew, the sailor too,
               And scared almost to death, sir,
              Wore out their shoes, to spread the news,
               And ran till out of breath, sir.”— American polymath and signer of the Declaration of Independence Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791), “The Battle of the Kegs,” originally published in 1778, reprinted in American Poetry: The Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, edited by David S. Shields (2007)
 
Faithful reader, if you’ve been reading this blog long enough and frequently enough, you’ll notice that I open and close the workweek with a humorous quote, on the reasonable supposition that everybody needs a laugh as they start their jobs on Monday and once they make it to Friday. I find no reason to change that pattern as we begin celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.
 
If you read anything at all about that document and the American Revolution in general (which I hope you will), nearly all of it will be very sober. And I’ll provide a bit of that over the weekend myself.
 
But human nature doesn’t change that much over the centuries, and the men and women who created this country liked to drink and laugh as much as we do. I think they would have nodded in agreement with a bibulous fellow writer on my college newspaper, when hearing a recent article described as “very sober,” remarked, “Gee, I hate anything sober!”
 
So did Francis Hopkinson, a signer of the Declaration of Independence whom I think you and I would have liked to hang with. A blog post of mine from 18 years ago described the general arc of the career of this witty Renaissance Man of the Revolution, but his part in depicting one incident in the war deserves a fuller explanation.
 
If the rhythm of his verses above sounds familiar, it should: they’re written to the tune of “Yankee Doodle.” Modern Americans associate that tune with patriots playing it on fife and drum on the way into battle, but it began a few decades before the war, with British doctor Richard Schuckburg creating a straw man with a colonist who was both a provincial hick and a pretentious fop.
 
By the outbreak of hostilities at Lexington and Concord, according to this account of the song on the Website of The Kennedy Center, the colonists were throwing the insult back, singing the tune derisively at the fleeing redcoats.
 
Nearly three years later, Hopkinson decided to make further use of the tune’s melody. You can see from the verses I’ve quoted that the lyrics are in ballad form, as capable of being sung as read.
 
What he was doing was rather audacious: taking a failed patriot military operation and, instead of being defensive about it, using it to mock vaunted British heroics.
 
In my high school, if you mentioned “The Battle of the Kegs,” some rowdy classmates might have seen it as a dare to finish off libations at a party. 

But in the American Revolution, it referred to a real patriot tactic in January 1778: to float explosive barrels at British ships. The colonists needed to try something: the British had captured and made themselves comfortable in Philadelphia, the capital of the young republic.
 
The whole thing was a big dud: no British ships blew up. But Hopkinson used the opportunity to satirize the redcoats’ panic and overreaction to the unknown objects coming their way.
 
Ultimately, the American Revolution would have to be settled by other means. But then as now, satire directed at an enemy possessing overwhelming power was necessary to sustain the spirit for the larger contest.