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Quite the World, Isn't It?

Wisconsin, and the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire

Some of the victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire.
Like many people, I've been watching the events unfolding in Wisconsin with a sense of fascinated revulsion. The rank opportunism of political figures in using the financial crisis to blow up public employees' rights to organize is as callous a move as we've seen in a long time (though I am very heartened by labor's response; general strike, anyone?). Same for the folks in Congress using the crisis to defund public broadcasting and Planned Parenthood. None of those proposals do more than throw a pail of water on a raging fiscal fire; the motives are based on shifting power, not balancing budgets.

But the fire analogy is apt. The New York Times this morning has a wonderful story about how the obsession of one researcher has led to the identification of the final six victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire, which marks its 100th anniversary on March 25th.

Like the ludlow Massacre, the Triangle fire was a critical moment in the union movement, and the sheer scope of the tragedy - 146 killed as fire raged through a sweatshop in a building that is now part of New York University - led to significant reforms in fire codes, building codes, and working conditions.

It's a good lesson to learn from history in these union-busting days. Labor's response to that fire, and the pressure it put on government, revolutionized fire, safety and labor codes. For those who would have less government, it's a good juncture from which to look at "before" and "after." What working conditions were like when business owners were given a free hand, and the safeguards we as a society decided were necessary to rein in their killing excesses.

Remember, in that era, workers were considered disposable (some things don't change). In the Colorado coal mines, workers were valued less than mules. If a worker was killed, managers could always hire another one, in essence renting time and labor from another supplier. A mule, on the other hand, would have to be replaced. My guess is the owners of the Triangle sweatshop lamented the loss of their sewing machines as much if not more than the loss of life.

Unions emerged for a reason. And as the balance of power - and wealth - continues to shift toward corporations and away from workers, no matter the color of their collars, we would be well served by understanding how and why unions came to be in the first place. And those who think their relevance is in the past could not be more wrong. As long as our national policies and, for that matter, our national psyche, values profit over people, there is a need for unions. Read More 
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Borders' bankruptcy, and the tsunami effect

A friend owns a children's bookstore here in Irvine, California - A Whale of a Tale, a great shop - and Margaret and I helped her out yesterday with crowd control for a signing by "Weird Al" Yankovic. Afterward, a few of us met for dinner at a neighboring brewpub, and the conversation naturally steered to Borders' filing for bankruptcy.

One of our dining companions, an illustrator, had earlier in his career worked at Borders, and had some revealing stories about top-down management and a failure to understand what sets readers apart from general customers - familiar complaints, among many, about the once-great independent chain's plunge into insolvency, which we generally agreed began when it became part of massive corporations (K-Mart).

There wasn't much of it at our table last night, but I was thinking this morning about the general sense of popular condemnation when a company like Borders goes under, even if it is a reorganization plan. We tend to focus on the missteps and critical junctures in which wrong decisions were made, and that maybe the company go what it deserved. Which is fair enough, given that we are, at heart, a puritanical and punitive society (and that is a whole other blog post).

But perusing the list of creditors this morning is pretty sobering (the filing details are available here). Some of the biggest publishers are owed some serious money in a business in which margins are shrinking by the day. Those owed double-digit millions include Penguin ($41 million), Hachette ($37 million), Simon & Schuster ($34 million), Random House ($34 million), HarperCollins ($26 million), Macmillan ($11 million), and Wiley ($11 million).

Who knows how this will turn out. It could be Borders will reorganize and come out leaner and more competitive (it plans to close nearly one-third of its stores, so it's hard to see it re-establishing itself as the premier chain). And it could be that the creditors come out of this with a minimal loss of blood. But as my agent, Jane Dystel, pointed out in a blog post back when Borders first began halting payments to vendors, this is not a good thing for book publishing. And it is not a good thing for authors (um, me).

I can't help but think that given all the structural problems publishers are facing in these days of high unemployment, stagnant (if not reduced) wages, and a depressed retail world, that book publishing is facing a year of critical importance to its survival. And I hope, for all of us, that it survives relatively intact. Read More 
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HuffPo and FB: Two different sorts of plantations

There's an interesting column in the New York Times this morning by media writer David Carr looking at the absurd valuations for companies like Facebook and Twitter on the heels of Huffington Post's agreement to be swallowed up by AOL.

Carr is usually a pretty astute critic, but I think he missed a crucial differentiation here. He argues, correctly, that Huffington Post ratcheted itself to the value of $315 million on the unpaid work of thousands of bloggers, and perhaps to a bigger extent by doing little more than aggregating the paid-for output of professional media organizations.

If that's not outright thievery, it's pretty close. And, to me, highly unethical. HuffPo breaks very little news, and does very little reporting. It's a parasitical relationship with the mainstream media, and Arianna Huffington has been richly rewarded by it.

Facebook and other social media venues are different beasts, though Carr lumps them together with HuffPo. The difference is intent. HuffPo intends to draw readers to its aggregated links and bloggers. Facebook's intent is to give users a forum with which oi interact with each other. Both sell ads on the side, and thus generate significant cash. But Facebook isn't drawing people with content in the way HuffPo is. It's drawing users - and eyeballs for advertisers - by giving them a forum through which to interact with friends, not by publishing their content. It's the difference, I think, between publishing a newspaper with purloined or unpaid content, and operating a coffee shop, where your customers hang around in your space and socialize.

That's a much more legitimate business model. It's not objectionable on ethical grounds. Huffington Post, on the other hand, is. And all the more so because of the political outlook of the site. There's something deeply suspicious about an ostensibly politically liberal organization so devaluing the works of individuals, and of journalism as a profession.

Maybe what HuffPo needs is a strong union. Read More 
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Any Human Heart and the little screen

Matthew MacFadyen as Logan Mountstuart and Hayley Atwella as Freya Deverell. Credit: Joss Barratt, PBS
It's not often I look forward to a televised dramatization of a novel, but I'm setting the DVR for tonight's Masterpiece Theatre rendition of William Boyd's spectacular Any Human Heart. Lord, I hope they don't screw it up.

Any Human Heart is one of my favorite books of the past decade or so, a Zelig-style novel (think Forrest Gump) that traces the evolution of art and war through 20th Century Europe, with just enough United States tossed in to give it cross-Atlantic appeal. There are plenty of flaws to it, but as a broad piece of work, it stands up well. Incidentally, I missed Any Human Heart when it first came out, and turned to it after Kinky Friedman told me it was his favorite book. When a serious book draws a clown's interest, it never hurts to give it a read.

In truth, I've never had much faith in adaptations of complicated novels. Too much of the power of the novel lies in the intricacies of plot and character, and television by its nature elides the intricacies for the grand and the obvious. But enough adaptations have worked over the years -- Timothy Hutton's televised Nero Wolfe novels leap to mind -- that I'll enter this one with an open mind. And the early reviews give hope.

I'll be curious to see what you all think about it. Read More 
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On football, and our passion for violence

The always insightful Garry Wills had an interesting take on The New York Review of Books blog yesterday heading into Super Bowl Weekend, which has become our annual celebration of violence.

Wills' point of departure is the viciousness at the heart of the sport, and the irony that the very equipment meant to protect players becomes, when worn by 300-plus pound behemoths, weapons.
This “protection” is like the boxing gloves mandated by the Marquess of Queensberry Rules in 1867. Some supposed they were meant to protect a fighter’s hands. Their real function was to make it possible to strike at an opponent’s head with maximum force. Back in the days of bare-knuckle fights, the only way to do real damage to another man’s head, without crippling oneself, was to break his nose with the heel of the hand. Otherwise, the long bouts were waged with wallops to the muscle-padded torso. The gloves made it possible to score knockouts to the head—and to do that head permanent damage, registered in the high degree of dementia among fighters.

The same “gain” has been achieved for football with the heavy helmet.
The chilling result is the high number of former pro football players suffering from trauma-induced dementia. And it becomes even more tragic when you consider the number of kids who have been killed or suffered crippling injuries from the sport as they emulate the toughness lauded on television every Sunday.
Between 1982 and 2009 according to the National Center for Catastrophic Injury Research, 295 fatalities directly or indirectly resulted from high-school football. From 1977 to 2009, at all levels, 307 cervical-cord injuries were recorded. And between 1984 and 2009 there were 133 instances of brain damage—not slowly accruing damage, as in the case of C.T.E., but damage upon impact.
All of which has me mulling this national ethos that celebrates violence. Fights make the hockey game. We celebrate boxers who, by definition, earn their livings by committing felonies. The most violent and macabre movies and TV shows become cultural icons, then we react with disgust when life imitates art. John Hinckley's attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan, emulating the character Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver stands as the ultimate crossover.

In the back of my mind lurks the sections of the current book project about the 1970s and 1980s in Detroit, when the gun slinging drug-dealer became a folk hero to a generation of youths who saw - and not in the romanticized nihilistic sense - nothing but prison or death in their futures. The hit movie "Scarface, though set in Miami, captured that sense in all of its gory glory. Which, of course, was a remake of a Depression-era movie about the violent gangster world propelled by Prohibition. So this thing of ours - the glorification of violence - is nothing new. And I'm as guilty as the next. I love hockey, fights and all, and will be watching the Super Bowl on Sunday, though I hope I have the good grace to wince instead of cheer when a player gets knocked senseless.

More broadly, though, I wonder what history will have to say about us, and the choices we've made as a culture, and as a political society. I used to think we have come to treat free-market capitalism, with all of its faults, as a national religion, albeit one without a soul. But I'm beginning to think that at a deeper level we worship, first, Darwinism, from our social policies to our entertainment choices to our sports. It's a faith in which only the tough survive. And that's not a good thing if we are to have any credibility when we say we value human life.

It reminds of that old David Gray song, "Let the Truth Sting," with its lyric, "If we're searching for peace, how come we still believe in hatred as the catalyst?"9K4N5ZN8ZM7X Read More 
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A rare foray into television criticism

The television and I have an agreement: It shows "Law and Order" or "NCIS" reruns with the occasional soccer and football game thrown in, and I agree to watch it. Otherwise we don't spend a whole lot of time together.

But I managed to catch the first two episodes of the new series, "Harry's Law," on NBC, with Kathy Bates, and find it pretty intriguing. The writing is erratic - some scenes stretch credulity to the breaking point - and they have an annoying habit of pushing up cheesy music during emotional peaks, which only serves to lessen the dramatic impact.

But the first episode dove into the problem of drug addiction, from the perspective of the addict and our societal failure to create pro-active programs to help. The second episode touched on the plight of chronically poor elderly people, and our failure to adequately support them.

Not exactly groundbreaking stuff, but a lot better than the cheap moralism of "Law and Order" (even though I watch it), "CSI" and other top-rated TV shows with their typical "catch a perp" approach. "Harry's Law" offers a more nuanced look - at least least in the first two episodes - at some of the key social issues that, for decades now, have influenced the make up and health of our urban and rural communities. Poverty and addiction are isolating things, and in that isolation, desperation grows.

This also has had me ruminating lately on our societal predisposition to treat crime as a problem in our neighborhoods, but as entertainment on our TV screens and in our movie theaters. "Detroit 187" is one of the new ones, and while it;s fun to see Detroit on the screen, I can't help but think there are better ways to get at the city's core than following cops around. What we need is more entertainment holding up teachers, social workers and others who try to build a better society, and fewer programs romanticizing those who break our codes, and those who enforce them. Read More 
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The first advance review for The Fear Within

I'm still in Detroit (for one more day) finishing up research for Detroit: A Biograhy, and received a nice email from the publicity folks at Rutgers University Press: the first advance review for The Fear Within from Kirkus Reviews. They seem to like it, which is always reassuring for a writer. It's in the February 1 issue, limited to subscribers, but I was lucky enough to get a copy of it.
An evenhanded revisiting of the trial of the U.S. Communist Party leaders that tested the pernicious efficacy of the Smith Act.

Journalist Martelle (Blood Passion: The Ludlow Massacre and Class War in the American West, 2007) focuses on Dennis v. the United States of America, which had dramatic and disturbing ramifications to First Amendment rights to this day—e.g., the Patriot Act, which the author mentions but does not dwell on. In August 1945, Soviet spy turned FBI informer Elizabeth Bentley spilled incriminating evidence about leaders of the U.S. Communist Party, and the two-count indictment was handed down, charging 12 men with violating the Smith Act because they “unlawfully, willfully, and knowingly did conspire with each other” by their society and meetings to “teach and advocate the overthrow and destruction of the Government of the United States by force and violence.” Among the men were New York City Councilman Benjamin Davis, Jr., Daily Worker editor John Gates, decorated war hero Robert Thompson, top party leader William Z. Foster and general secretary Eugene Dennis. The nine-month Foley Square trial became a cause célèbre, not only for the anti-Communist crusaders, including Harry Truman, who was up for reelection, but for defenders of the First Amendment and radical activists who believed fiercely that the men were innocent and being framed for their beliefs. Their defense should have been an opportunity to defend their political views and present an education in Marxism and Leninism, as Dennis did vociferously during the trial, representing himself. Instead, Judge Harold R. Medina threw the book at them, and at their attorneys, who received jail time and disbarment. Not until the Warren Court of the ’50s did the “roundups” cease.

Martelle treads carefully through the evidence, keeping a close harness on his own sympathies for the defendants.
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Michigan's baby bust

Stumbled across an intriguing article in the Detroit Free Press this morning - I'm in Detroit doing book research - about an unusual demographic twist. The birth rate in the state of Michigan has dropped precipitously.
Just 117,309 babies were born in Michigan in 2009, the smallest supply of newborn Michiganders since the end of World War II. That's 11.8 babies per 1,000 Michiganders, the lowest birthrate since the 1870s.

At its peak -- during the national baby boom -- Michigan's high was 27.6 new babies for every 1,000 residents.
This really is remarkable, especially the point writer Robin Erb makes in the piece that part of the cause is the exodus of young, child-bearing couples. This is how ghost towns are made, though Michigan doesn't risk that fate (can we have a ghost state?). But a baby bust is something of a canary in the coal mine - or the auto plant, in this case. When the young give up on a place, it makes it all the harder to keep the economy running and diversifying.

I've long told my newspaper colleagues that all journalists should come spend some time in Detroit, and in Michigan, to get a sense of what post-industrial society really looks like. The forces that led Detroit to this juncture are complex, and they pose massive challenges. So far, there has been little national political will to do something about it.

You know, that would make for an interesting book project .... Read More 
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This is cool beyond words

A few years ago, when I was still a staff writer for the LA Times, I wound up in Alaska for a political corruption story, and drove up the Turnagain Arm, which, like the Bay of Fundy in Canada, has very bizarre tidal bore waves (not tsunamis). These dudes surfed them. For five miles. Like I said, beyond cool ...
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The problem with the discourse of hatred

I’ve been watching with the predictable sense of outrage as the events in Tucson have unfolded over the past 24 hours or so, and share in the anger about the circumstances in which the killings and attempted killings took place. As others have noted, our political discourse carries the bile and venom of a marriage ending badly. It is not the framework for progress. But we also can’t say for certain yet whether it was the impetus for violence.

So it is with a bit of revulsion that I’ve been watching the reactions of many on the left who are quick to see political motivations in the actions of what appears to be a mentally ill man. It could well turn out that this was indeed the willful attempted political assassination of U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords. But it could also turn out that her politics had nothing to do with it. We just don’t know enough to draw those conclusions. One friend referred to the attack as a political assassination. But is it? Can we conclude that? Did the gunman even know Giffords’ politics? Could he have just as easily targeted a conservative Republican, if that happened to be his congressional representative? We don’t know enough to even say whether there was any rational process involved. Was he coldly and delusionally anti-government, a Timothy McVeigh, and thus any political figure could be a target? Or was he, in the end, a John Hinckley seeking in his illness to impress a starlet?

We don’t know.

This rush to judgment is born of the very same sharp divides in political discourse that the outraged believe to be the gunman’s motivation. Similarly, friends have reacted with sharp condemnation over the initial erroneous reports that Giffords had died, chastising the media outlets that ran with the information (apparently based on a reporter’s conversation with a sheriff’s department official; unclear whether the official or the reporter got it wrong). Mistakes get made. Does each mistake really require a pound of flesh?

It is human nature to want to understand why these events happen. But it is also our nature, as a society, to leap to the easy conclusion, and to not probe deeply to understand true causation. We are quick to assign blame, slow to forgive, happy to reach out for the evidence that supports our conclusions. We demonize and dehumanize, and every subsequent turn reinforces our view. We choose not to use our mirrors for self-reflection. We use them to blind ourselves.

When did we become a culture of the misinformed? And why are we so satisfied to stay that way? Read More 
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