The Book of Devine

 

One of my prized possessions is the old trunk my father used in 1950's when he was in the military. Notice that it has his Social Security number stenciled right on it.

 

One of the many reasons I wish my Dad were alive is so I could ask him about an insignia on the trunk. With it's iron crosses it looks almost like some Nazi artifact, although my father never served in World War II nor was he ever stationed in Germany.

However, maybe it's a decal my Dad got from his father, who did serve in World War II and who did bring a lot of Nazi stuff back from Europe. My Grandfather served all over Europe but never saw a moment of combat, serving instead as one of the military cooks; a humble wartime calling but an essential one because, as my Grandfather used to say, "An army marches on its stomach."

My Grandfather was full of war stories, which unfortunately I've forgotten most of. It is a shame that when we are young we only half-listen to the tales of our elders, only to wish when we are older that we could rehear them, but alas the tellers have vanished into the realm beyond telling.

One story I remember that my Grandfather used to tell involved an Irish monk and his sacred mission regarding a book. At the end of the war all of Europe was flooded with refugees of various types, people who had been displaced by the war and who were now returning to their homes - if their homes even still existed.

My Grandfather said that one day driving in Germany he came upon an elderly Irish monk who was walking along the road, carrying an old book. He stopped his jeep and asked the monk where he was going. The monk replied that he was trying to return to Ireland, from which he had fled after his monastery had been bombed.

"What is that book you're carrying?" my Grandfather asked.

"It is the only thing I was able to save from the ruins of my monastery," the old monk explained. "It is a book of genealogy dating back to the fourteenth century."

My Grandfather asked to see the book, and then was shocked to read its title - The Book of Devine. In it was the listing of the name, birth, baptism, marriage and death dates of every member of the Devine family going back five hundred years! My Grandfather quickly showed the old monk his dog tags.

"Look!" he cried," My name is Devine! This book is the only known complete record of my family history! I must have it!"

"NO!" the old monk exclaimed, "It is the last remaining relic of my monastery, and I have made a sacred vow that I shall return it to Ireland where it belongs. You cannot have it."

My Grandfather laughed, "Sorry old padre, but if you'll notice I have a gun and you do not, and I'm taking this book back to America with me." Then he walked to his jeep carrying the Book of Devine and returned to the base.

That night my Grandfather went to the tavern with his friends for a night of drinking, and as he walked there he kept thinking that he saw a shadowy figure behind him just out of view. When he got to the bar a small shape slipped in the door just behind him. Soon my grandfather recognized the old monk seated in the corner. He tried to ignore him, but he monk just sat and stared at my Grandfather from across the room the entire evening, making it difficult for my Grandfather to completely relax and enjoy himself. Finally at closing time my Grandfather went up to him demanding, "What are you doing here? Leave me alone!"

"Give me the Book of Devine." the old monk solemnly stated. My Grandfather sternly refused, left the bar and returned to the base.

The next morning, as my Grandfather drove away from the base, and a little down the road he saw a familiar figure standing by the side of the road. "Old man," my grandfather exclaimed, "this is a military installation! What are doing here?"

"You know why I am here." the old monk solemnly stated. "Give me the Book of Devine."

"Go away you old fool!" my Grandfather ordered. "Leave me alone!"

But every day for the next week, when he left in the morning and when he returned at night, there by the base would stand the old monk. Whenever he went to the tavern, there the monk would soon appear sitting in the corner. Always when my Grandfather confronted him he would make the same, solemn demand.

"Give me the Book of Devine."

Soon it became time for my Grandfather to leave to return to America. As he left the base for the last time, driving the jeep to the waiting plane, there as always was the monk waiting down the road, only this time he was standing in the middle of the street, blocking the way.

"Get out of the road, you idiot!" my Grandfather commanded. "Or I'll run you over!"

"Kill me if you must," the old monk replied, "for I prefer death to failing in my sacred duty before God to return the Book of Devine to Ireland."

My Grandfather could see that the monk was serious, and would not get out of the road. The stand-off in which my Grandfather attempted to threaten and cajole the monk to move was both time consuming and futile. The delay soon threatened to cause my Grandfather to miss his plane, and he was anxious to return to his family in the Pine Point section of Springfield. Finally, my Grandfather reached into his duffel bag and took out the ancient text and angrily hurled it at the feet of the old monk. "Take it and get the hell out of the way!"

The old monk snatched up the book, "Bless you my son!" he said as he quickly ran off and vanished from view. My Grandfather made it to his plane with only minutes to spare. 

So is that story true? My Grandfather had the gift of blarney (that's Celtic for bullshit) so one can never be sure. But whenever he heard that anyone was returning for a visit to the old country, he would always tell that story and then urge the traveler, "Keep an eye out for The Book of Devine!" but no one has ever found it.

 

Returning to 2011, all it ever seems to do in this new year is snow. Here the usually congested King Street in downtown Northampton is left deserted by the weather.

Even local media dude David Pakman had to dig his own car out from the snow. 

The view out the window of Dunkin Donuts.

 



A few months ago I showed you this tasteless graffiti on a dumpster outside a UMass frat-house.

 



Since then someone has painted something more politically correct over it.

 



Filmed entirely at the Jones Library in Amherst.

Sunrise on Springfield's Porter Lake by Burt Freedman. 

Neal versus Rosenberg?

Tom Wesley in bad company.

When the final campaign filings from the Pioneer Valley 2010 political races came out on Monday, eyebrows were raised behind closed doors at the report filed by south Valley Congressman Richard Neal. I say behind closed doors, because the general public was never informed of the figures by the mainstream local media, which is typical regarding anything pertaining to "The Congressman" that might be interpreted as embarrassing.

But the mind-boggling sum spent by Richie Neal to win re-election last year was really the great uncovered story of our local elections in 2010. How much was Richie forced to spend this time around? According to his filing, he spent a staggering $2,235,180, which I believe qualifies as the most expensive race in Pioneer Valley history.

What also makes Richie's massive money bomb so unique is not just its size, but the target against which all that cash was directed - Neal's almost penniless and unknown opponent, political novice Tom Wesley. To attempt to unseat Neal, Wesley raised a paltry $123,203, which on the congressional level is practically the equivalent of challenging your opponent on the proceeds of a lemonade stand.

Even more awkward for Neal is how little he got for firing this cannon of cash against a housefly. Although Republicans of a certain stripe can occasionally win in the Pioneer Valley, Wesley was not of that type. He had a military background in a district of peaceniks, was anti-abortion among rabid feminists, and against gay marriage in one of the queerest parts of the state. Wesley was also running as a Republican Tea Partier in a year when Massachusetts (and California) were unique in resisting the GOP wave that swept the other 48 states.

And yet, even with all that against him, the final tally was startlingly close, with Wesley winning a very solid 43% of the vote. It is hard to believe that a sudden attraction to Wesley's right-wing views can account for that turnout, especially since there was no Republican surge in any other local races. Although Wesley did have an enthusiastic base, his high vote total can only be fully explained as a personal anti-Neal backlash. In other words, there were a surprisingly large number of voters out there who were prepared to hold their nose and vote for a candidate they philosophically disagreed with rather than cast their ballot for Richie Neal.

And no doubt they had their reasons. Years of unchallenged incumbency had made Neal appear as if he took the seat for granted, with many voters even asking "Richie who?" since the lack of the need for Neal to campaign for the seat for 16 years had left much of the public uncertain of who he was. No doubt Neal's inside polling showed him in trouble, thereby explaining his frantic spending spree, even against an unpopular opponent with no money. That is the only logical explanation for how you end up with the bizarre sight of a two million dollar race against a guy with pocket change.  

Neal won by a margin slim enough to leave one wondering whether Neal would have lost the seat had the GOP had the sense to have nominated the much more electable libertarian Republican Dr. Jay Fleitman of Northampton, who had challenged Wesley in the primary. But that's just idle speculation at this point, in politics the winner takes all, whether victory comes by a sliver or a landslide, and under normal circumstances Neal would be able to sigh with post-election relief and enjoy another term.

Neal and Olver

But these are not normal circumstances. As a result of slow population growth in Massachusetts, we are losing one of our ten congressional seats. That means that if all ten incumbents want to run for re-election, one of them is going to have to be forced to run against a fellow incumbent. And if you know anything about the way things are done in Massachusetts politics, it ain't gonna be somebody in Boston who is going to have that problem. As usual they will shaft - I mean shift - that difficulty to us here in the Wild West, and make our two congressmen, Neal and John Olver of Amherst do an electoral duel to the death in a Democrat Party primary.

Both Neal and Olver (like the other eight incumbents) have publicly announced that they are seeking re-election in 2012; but how seriously can we take their intentions? There is no doubt that Neal is sincere, he is poised to possibly become chair of the powerful Ways and Means Committee in the unlikely chance that the Democrats retake the House. Neal is also just in his early 60's and considered still young by congressional standards.

Olver however, is a another story. For one thing, doubt is raised by the fact that Olver is required to say he is running in 2012 even if he has no intention of doing so, just to preserve any chance of saving the two Western Mass seats from consolidation. The ten incumbents are just dying to be relieved of the pressure of removing a seat by having someone retire, since then they could just wipe out that person's seat and leave all nine remaining incumbents safe and sound. So if Olver did not say he was running, it would become an inescapable certainty that we would lose the second seat, with no possibility of escaping Boston combining Neal's and Olver's districts.

Despite such political posing, everyone is all but certain that Neal and Olver's districts will be combined, as it just isn't possible to imagine the scenario where Boston would kill off one of their own to accommodate Western Mass. So would Olver really compete in such a brutal political death match with Neal? He is well into his seventies and frankly did not impress people with his sometimes doddering, spacy performance in last year's debates against his GOP challenger Bill Gunn. Many suspect that if push comes to shove, Olver will defer to Neal by retiring should it turn out that only one of them can fill the seat.

But of course the Pioneer Valley political universe does not consist only of Richard Neal and John Olver. Some powerful Democrat could come forward, and the whispering is growing louder that the someone who may step in to challenge Neal if Olver steps down may be Amherst State Senator Stan Rosenberg. After all, Rosenberg is widely considered to be Olver's hand-picked heir, and previous speculation about Olver's retirement has regarded Rosenberg's candidacy to be a foregone conclusion. Why would that certainty be changed should the seat have Richie Neal competing for it?

My personal opinion is that if it is a Neal versus Olver Democrat primary, Neal will win because of his relative youth and the lopsided margin the Democrat machine in Springfield can deliver to Neal to overcome all the small towns that comprise Olver's base. However, a Neal versus Rosenberg race, now that's a whole other story. It's too early yet, but meanwhile let us watch with keen interest as events unfold.

The rising sun hits the woodland way into downtown Northampton. 

Transforming it into a golden road of unlimited devotion.

 



Singing along to animal posters in Northampton last week. 

On the street by Tony Mateus. 

Snowland

 

On the way home last night, as the snow began to fall, I pointed my camera at the sky.

Along the woodland way into downtown Northampton, someone hung a lost glove on a twig in hopes that its owner would pass by.

The view out the front door of the Haymarket Cafe.

A wreath made of CD's on a music store.

.



Neil Young and Jerry Garcia in a snowy Main Street doorway. 

The UMass students have returned from their winter break, an event inspiring this act of retro vandalism on Herter Hall. 

This picture by S.P. Sullivan shows the Dickinson Estate in Amherst as it appeared during the snowstorm early this morning.

Here is a clever and heartfelt song about Ms. Dickinson.

A hawk and its pinned pigeon prey in downtown Springfield by Greg Saulmon. 

Frederick M. Whitney R.I.P.

Mr. Valley Republican

 

I'm saddened to hear that former Springfield State Representative Frederick Whitney has died. Among his many distinctions was that he was the last white person to represent the neighborhood then known as Winchester Square (since re-named Mason Square). Whitney voluntarily stepped aside to allow Ray Jordan to become the city's first black representative, perhaps recognizing that the changing demographics of the Square made his defeat inevitable anyway. Still, it was considered a classy exit that avoided what might have been a divisive campaign. Whitney later ran against former Congressman Ed Boland and was defeated. Whitney never ran for public office again, but sometimes threatened to, even well into his seventies.

I first met Fred Whitney as a result of receiving an angry letter from him. Indeed, being a Republican in Springfield meant Whitney's career was punctuated with angry letters. He had seen me on television one night in the early 1990's when I was filling in on Channel 40 for Dan Yorke. I was presenting this shtick I used to do at the end of each year called "Heroes and Villains of the Year." Making my "Villains" list was the Springfield Republican Party, which I ridiculed for being so ineffective in winning elections, despite having the advantage of competing against such an obviously corrupt and incompetent Democrat Party machine. I believe I even used the word "pathetic" to describe the local Republicans, a strong word perhaps, but I was only saying publicly what everyone said in private.

Shortly afterward Channel 40 forwarded to me a letter they had received and it was from former Representative Whitney, who was at that time the president of the Springfield Republican City Committee. He lambasted me for being so critical, complaining that I had never been to any Republican Party functions nor had I any first hand experience of their activities. So how could I know enough about the local GOP to call them pathetic?

Well, I knew for certain that they were losing elections even when running against obvious crooks, but I called Whitney anyway and he invited me to join him and some of the local Republican leaders for lunch at the Mass Mutual Insurance building on State Street. In those days the Pioneer Valley Republican Party was pretty much run out of Mass Mutual, where the late insurance executive Bill Barbeau used to hold regular luncheons at which local right-wing figures would gather to plot in vain for the overthrow of the local Democrat Party machine.

I soon found myself a regular at these gatherings, which I enjoyed almost as much for the chance it gave me to explore the architectural majesty of the Mass Mutual building itself, which is as impressive on the inside as you might expect from its exterior. I also enjoyed meeting many old time pols from Whitney's state rep days, some of whom could tell intriguing, sometimes shocking, and often very funny stories of local political lore.

Personally, I've never been much for political parties of any stripe, and my inclusion in the Republican party's innermost sanctum was a sometimes uneasy one, myself being a bit more liberal on a number of issues than your typical GOPer. Still, the hapless Republicans were in no position to be choosy about their friends, and besides I had media connections that they desperately needed, with the Valley GOP being all but censored by the local mainstream media.

But the real connection between myself and Whitney was that we were both "good government" reformers. Whitney was originally from Wisconsin, and he considered himself a Republican in the tradition of the 19th century Wisconsin reformer Robert LaFollette. That reformer tradition inspired Whitney to focus on issues of process more than policy, and he was primarily concerned with honesty and transparency in government. 

He and I both shared the view that one of the main political problems in the Valley in general and Springfield in particular was that there was no balance of power, no loyal opposition to keep the Democrats honest and responsive to the public. With Democrats occupying all of the major offices by lop-sided margins, it was hard to get anyone in political office to hold anyone else accountable because everybody was on the same team. The result was that even the honest Democrats, few as there were, could not effectively challenge the corrupt machine Democrats. Or as I wrote at the time using cold war terms, "One party rule has not worked in Russia, or in China or in Cuba, and it ain't working in the Pioneer Valley either."

Whitney's great political crusade was ward representation in Springfield. He felt that the at-large system had made downtown special interests too powerful at the expense of the neighborhoods. It was exactly the powerful versus the little guy sort of issue that he relished. Whitney fought for many years for ward representation, railing against the downtown power players even with no one else showing any interest in the issue. Finally some local liberals took up the cause primarily from the perspective of increasing minority representation. 

In a cruel irony, those local liberals showed little desire in joining forces with a Republican, and Whitney, who had been a lonely voice for ward representation for decades, found himself shoved to the sidelines by these new ward representation activists. Yet he was still thrilled when ward representation finally passed, and felt no resentment that no one acknowledged his years of activism, simply reciting this quote from Ronald Reagan. "It is amazing what you can accomplish in politics," Fred told me,"as long you don't care who gets the credit."

I fell out of touch with Fred Whitney in recent years, as had most people. As Whitney entered his late eighties his hearing went bad, and he couldn't see well enough to drive at night, so it became hard for him to attend political functions. Of course there were many who would have been honored to drive him to any function he wanted to attend, but then he couldn't have left whenever he wanted, which was important to him if the proceedings turned, as political events are known to do, into what he used to call "hogwash" but which a less genteel man than Whitney would have called "bullshit."

Yet even in his final decline, if anyone in our Valley could be called "Mr. Republican" it was Fred Whitney, bit not everyone realized what a sometimes difficult role that was to play. There were many politically barren years when it was hard even to find Republican candidates, let alone get them elected, and many Democrats laughed openly at their infrequent Don Quixote campaigns. It is not overstating it to say that there were years when the only thing keeping two-party democracy alive in Western Mass were the efforts of people like him. 

Fred Whitney never lived to see the Republican party revived, but someday, when the people of Massachusetts have had enough, our state's Democrats may finally get the good electoral thrashing they so richly deserve. And on that happy day, I hope that the Massachusetts Republicans will remember to tip their hat to the tireless efforts of those like Fred Whitney, who carried the torch for them through the darkest years.

To read the obituary of Fred Whitney in the Springfield Republican click here.

The other day in the Haymarket I ran into local radio star Jaz Tupelo.

 

Jaz is teaming up with her old sidekick Bill Dwight for a new morning show on Valley Free Radio. I hear the show will feature music as well as politics! Starting January 24th, you can find it at 103.3FM - Monday through Thursday, 8am to 9am.

Newbury Records has left their longtime Amherst location and re-opened in downtown Hamp in a much bigger space on Pleasant Street.

 

If this sign were for real, many in Northampton would be fighting for the space.

 

Taped on the Pulaski Park bus stop. 

 

First Snow 2011

 

Wow, it sure has been snowing around here! It was so bad on the woodland way into downtown Northampton that people were on skis!

Arriving downtown, only starving spirits would venture out to buy bread from the Hungry Ghost Bakery.

Humans may not want to go anywhere, but a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

Silent Cal Coolidge wrapped in white.

Non-New Englanders may not know what this red disc is for sticking out of a snowbank. It is to tell the firemen the location of the hydrant buried beneath.

Pity the poor fool who left their bike outside overnight.

When it was all over, the snow was piled high in the streets.

The smartest people in our Valley chose to stay in coffeeshops like Raos and with the comfort of their computers.

 

 

B.T. Marchese and friends in Northampton 1994

 

 

Blind Justice

Well, the new Hampden County District Attorney Mark G. Mastroianni was sworn in this morning, and we all wish him good luck in the performance of his difficult duties. At least we can say that he will probably do a better job than the man he defeated for the office, Steve Buoniconti, a notorious hack with close connections to some of the sleaziest characters in the Valley. However, we can't welcome the new D.A. without a few parting words of commentary about the one headed out the door.

That would be William Bennett (above) who has occupied the office since 1990, despite a campaign promise that he would serve no more than two terms. Bennett deserves credit for professionalizing the office, which was run like a personal fiefdom by his scandal plagued predecessor Matty Ryan. Frankly, it wasn't hard for Bennett to look good following that act.

But while Bennett did a competent job prosecuting the murderers, bank robbers and other crimes committed primarily by the region's underclass, Bennett's great flaw was his inability to take any action against the high-level political crooks who operated with impunity during his tenure, until the FBI finally came in to clean things up.

Bennett's defenders say that it wasn't his jurisdiction to pursue public corruption cases, that such prosecutions are the responsibility of the Feds. While that may be technically correct, that is a lame cop-out. The D.A. is supposed to be the primary crime fighter in the Valley, sworn to pursue wrong-doing wherever it may be found. Bennett might at least have sent the FBI a few memos such as "Excuse me, but the Albano Gang seems completely out of control" or "Those Asselins look like they're up to some pretty outrageous stuff" or just plain "Hey Feds, shit stinks around here!" Instead there came from Bennett's office nothing but a deafening silence.

Now he's off to make some serious money with Springfield's machine embedded power-player law firm Doherty, Wallace, Pillsbury & Murphy, which also happens to be the very same law firm that Matty Ryan golden parachuted into after his fall. Springfield - a town of the damnedest coincidences!

But at least let history record, that while Bennett can be credited with reforming some of the worst abuses of the Matty Ryan era, in one major respect the more things changed the more they stayed the same - that when it came to the sins of those in high places, under Bennett justice truly was blind.

 

Meanwhile in other news, UMass was declared the 43rd druggiest school in American by The Daily Beast. What?!! Back in the 70's, known unofficially by campus historians as The Stoned Age, we would never have settled for anything less than a Top Ten ranking!

The holidays are finally over, and here are a few final pics. This is Northampton's official holiday tree in Pulaski Park. 

Here is the wreath over the mantle of the lobby of the Hotel Northampton. 

At the Cumberland Farms on King Street in Northampton is this sign for a caffeine sale featuring someone holding a cup in front of their face with a smile drawn on it.

Of course the Northampton kids could not resist the implied dare of so ripe a target.

 



In Northampton the other night. 

Northampton New Year by Cher Lovestrong