Tuesday, October 28, 2014

I Give Ben Bradlee A Piece Of My Mind In Person About The Janet Cooke Scandal. The Post Gets Their Hand Caught In The Cookie Jar

I watched the interview shown in the video below of Bob Woodward last Sunday on Media Buzz with Howard Kurtz  and was pleased to see  Bob Woodward step up and take the blame for the Janet Cooke scandal. He was her supervising editor.
Ben Bradlee took a lot of the heat at the time as he should have. But he really did not supervise Janet Cooke like Woodward was suppose to.

So it turns out that it was Bob Woodward's fault not Ben Bradlee's. At the time I did not know that. I just learned that fact last Sunday on Media Buzz.

After the fraud was revealed  I happened to see Bradlee on a sidewalk outside a bank a block from The Washington Post across from the Madison Hotel and found myself walking along beside him.
I looked at him and he turned and smiled at me as though he was expecting me to say something nice to him or something nice about him as many people would normally do. I think he was very used to being admired.
But I had something else on my mind.  This was right after the Janet Cooke story had been revealed to be a hoax.
I leaned in close to Bradlee and whispered, "No more Little Jimmy stories. We don't need that sh-t."
He looked briefly stunned. But I am sure he got over it quickly.
Little Jimmy was a made up story by Janet Cooke about a little black 8 year old kid who was a heroin addict.. The whole series was a fraud. Woodward bought it hook, line, and sinker.
She and the Washington Post won a Pulitzer Prize for the series but when it was revealed to all be a lie they had to give it back.
And the Post was caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Amtrak City Of New Orleans #59 Complete walk through tour (including sle...

HiDef: Amtrak's City of New Orleans: New Orleans to Hammond, LA

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Lorelei Stewart And Bobby McGhee Mobile Alabama 1972 Photo By Bhob Stewart

Click on the picture to enlarge it. Notice the mailbox name is Bobby McGhee. Me and Bobby McGhee was a big song around that time. So Bhob posed Lorelei next to that mailbox for sure.

Rachel Stewart And Lorelei Stewart And Paula Clark Mobile Alabama 1972 Photo By Bhob Stewart

Click on the picture to enlarge it.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Tuba skinny melbourne festival 17 october 2014 'swing patrol-essence of ...

Looks and sounds like 1942 and World War 2.

What are these young people up to?

What is this world coming to? Backwards to a better place and time.

 By way of old time traditional New Orleans Jazz.

 And now we have a rebirth of this music thanks to Tuba Skinny.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Pictures From A Little Book My Brother Bhob Made Some Years Ago

 In case you don't already know you can click on the pictures to enlarge them.

Relaxing in Mobile Alabama 1971. Reading the Mobile Press Register. Those are Mission chairs that  belonged to our grandmother. I wish we still had them.

On the Road again. Bhob and I took an art show from the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington , D.C.
to San Francisco in the late summer or early Fall of 1969. It was called Cybernetic Serendipity. It went to the newly established Exploratorium at the Palace of Fine Arts in S.F. Robert Oppenheimer's brother Frank was the Director of the then new museum. In this picture I am wearing Elvis sun glasses.
Here are some links to that show. The first is from London. 1968.
 Below is about the show in D.C. As I remember it was shown at the Corcoran Gallery Dupont Center. Not the main Corcoran Gallery of Art. Yes I remember that is right because I worked in that show operating an automatic drawing machine. It was a pen drawing on a piece of paper attached to a moving board underneath the stationary pen.
 A  series of groundbreaking art and technology experiments took place between 1965 and 1971, each seeking to integrate the advances of science and technology within the spheres of art and culture. The Exploratorium, itself a hybrid laboratory/museum environment, officially opened its doors in 1969 with the traveling exhibition Cybernetic Serendipity, organized by Jasia Reichardt for the Institute of Contemporary Art in London. The show featured the explorations of artists and scientists inspired by the creative possibilities of computation.

Here is the wikipedia entry on the origin of the Exploratorium.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Riding The Train They Call The City Of New Orleans March 1965.. Monday Morning Rail 25 Sacks Of Mail

Click on these pictures to enlarge them. Black and white pictures taken by Rachel Lefebure.
Above picture is me in Hammond La. after I picked some flowers. Happy to be back in the warm Southland.
This is what was frozen in the ice on a sidewalk when we left Chicago.

 Here we are in Batesville Mississippi.
 Below looking out the vestibule window.

Train station in New Orleans.
Jackson Square in New Orleans showing the St. Louis cathedral and some azaleas.

Lee Circle New Orleans. This is where we had to take our coats off because it was so warm in early March.
We rode this train in 1965 on the original Illinois Central Railroad. It is now operated by Amtrak.
Steve Goodman did not write the song below until 1970.
But I can assure you every line is 100 per cent accurate.

Arlo Guthrie – The City Of New Orleans Lyrics

Riding on the City Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three Conductors; twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey - the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms, and fields
Passing trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealing card games with the old man in the Club Car
Penny a point - ain't no one keeping score
As the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumbling 'neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of Engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel
And, mothers with their babes asleep rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Night time on the City Of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home - we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea
But, all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again - the passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues

Good night, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Songwriters: STEVE GOODMAN
The City Of New Orleans lyrics © AL BUNETTA D/B/A JURISDAD MUSIC

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Wall Street Panic Of 2014

 Copy and cut and paste the link below.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Arlo Guthrie - The City of New Orleans - Dunegrass 2008

This  song was written by Steve Goodman in 1970.
My wife Rachel and I rode this train from Chicago to New Orleans in March of 1965.
Click on the label the train they call the city of new orleans below for more info on the train and our trip.

Welfare Cadillac~Guy Drake.wmv

Welfare Cadillac by Travis Bell (Johnny Rebel Version)

Please; Mr Custer

Wendy Bagwell, Ol' Ralph Bennett's Volkswagen

Charlie Douglas-Me And Dammit Ray (The Talking Outhouse)

Toy Caterpillar Construction Vehicles Rap

Hunting For Old Records By Robert Crumb

Click on the pictures to enlarge them.
  Originally from The Oxford American, issue 27/28 the third annual Southern music issue.


Click on the picture to enlarge it.
This appeared in the Washington Free Press on May 31, 1968
It is a poem about a small child all alone in a basement of a large old house.