Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: book store (Page 97 of 104)

Brubeck. Jazz great. Gone.

Today the shop is filled with violins and cellos, but on other days you might hear pianos and saxophones slipping among the book stacks. Music can set the mood or suit the mood, and a man who was good at both was Dave Brubeck.

Jazz music has always intrigued me, although I can’t claim to be one of those finger-snapping, sunglasses-wearing aficionados. I could always recognize Take Five, the Dave Brubeck standard that seemed to be extremely simple and daringly complex at the same time.

Mr Brubeck died of heart failure in Boston today, one day before his 92nd birthday.

Since WWII, the pianist has been a fixture of the modern jazz scene, but I couldn’t say whether his would be considered a household name. Certainly anyone who has dipped into the jazz genre to any depth would have come into contact with his work.

His 1959 album (that’s what they called CDs back before they got small and shiny and cased in plastic) entitled Time Out was the first jazz record to sell more than a million copies. Brubeck was the first jazz musician to appear on Time magazine, in 1954.

He played before presidents and smoky-jazz club audiences and received Kennedy Center Honors just a few years ago, reminding people (and introducing new listeners) of his unique style of music.

During the Second World War, Brubeck served in Europe under General George Patton, although he wielded sheet music instead of a rifle. His group was called the Wolfpack Band and was the only racially integrated unit in the military.

More than sixty years of music and most of those years as an active player. The likes of him won’t be seen again soon.

The Good Doctor, Adieu.

Dr. Thurman Shuller came and sat with me some years ago, when I was visiting McAlester to sign some copies of my book on Pittsburg County. As it turned out, it was fortunate for me that he gave me some of his time, because there weren’t a lot of books to be signed. I was competing with the county fair, and the fair won.

To say that I was nervous about his company isn’t strong enough. At least, at first I was. Dr. Shuller – perhaps by virtue of living so long in McAlester – had a firm grip on the local history and served the county residents admirably as president of both the genealogical society and the historical society. His assessment of my humble work may not have made a difference in sales or public reception, but it was certainly important to me as a matter of pride.

Photo by Kevin Harvison, McAlester News Capital

I passed the test. He gave me the ultimate compliment, actually – telling me he learned a few things in reading my photo-heavy history. I don’t know if he truly did, but it made me feel good. He did point out that I spelled Reba McEntire’s name wrong, and that he ought to know, since she had been a patient of his. (Even now, I’m double-checking my spelling wanting to get it right for the good doctor.)

Thurman Shuller suffered a stroke on Thanksgiving Day, and died on Saturday. He was 98 years old.

He was just a few years younger when we talked in the front foyer of an Old Town antiques mall, and I can only hope I maintain my faculties as he had. He was slow-moving until he sat down, but once settled in his chair, it was obvious his thinking had not slowed at all. We talked about the book, some of the characters who had helped found McAlester in its early days, and touched on the subject of my father, who had worked with him at the Health Department and Clinic for many years. For some reason, I find it comforting to hear kind words about my dad from people who remember him from so long ago.

Dr. Shuller aided me greatly with the facts about the Busby Theatre and its namesake, but it didn’t come easily at first. I understood later his reticence in sharing his material with me, since he had researched Busby extensively and had compiled quite a dossier on that early day entrepreneur. After our first telephone conversation, I decided Dr. Shuller was a proprietary historian, one of those holding information but declining to share it – for whatever reason.

He sent me a big packet of articles along with one of his speeches, and some photocopied notes he had compiled – as well as an apology. It was his desire to have the information published in an article for the Chronicles of Oklahoma (the Oklahoma Historical Society monthly) that had prompted him to withhold the information I had asked about. He told me that he feared he might not live long enough to get the thing in print. He needn’t have worried.

All the same, my own efforts were greatly aided by the notes he shared. I hope that he got the articles (along with all the footnotes he was dreading) in the Chronicles.

He was a good man, well-respected in the community after serving 41 years as a pediatrician, later a published author, and one of the primary researchers in compiling the names of those who lost their lives working in the Pittsburg County coal mines. His accomplishments were as diverse as flight surgeon during World War II to piano player for the local Rotary Club.

I’m happy to have had a chance to talk to him at length for a single afternoon, and assist him back to his car. I owed him a debt of gratitude and I find it extra-satisfying to be able to deliver heart-felt thanks in person.

His legacy is rich in family, friends, acquaintances, and a solid body of local history preserved for all time.

Smarty/Bossypants

The title is Bossypants, but it could have easily been called Smartyhead. Comedian Tina Fey is a funny woman. Maybe a little smart-alecky, but that’s what we expect of comedians. She’s obviously a bright woman. Maybe it could have been called Smartypants.

She had a lot to say when she sat down to write.

Just short of two-hundred pages into the book, Ms Fey addresses her readers on a subject, and then presumably realized that her public isn’t necessarily comprised exclusively of women. She compares applying her newly bought contact lenses to activities required by feminine hygiene products.

“If you are male,” she writes, “I would liken it to touching your own eyeball and thank you for buying this book.”

Since I am a male reader, I appreciated the recognition while bearing up under her condescension – not that I particularly cared to visualize the analogy she had offered to women readers. I think I caught the drift of it. But I’m guessing she didn’t expect men to read the book.

It’s for the most part entertaining, as would be expected from a comedian. Humor isn’t the sole focus though, and that’s where it bogs down a little, particularly for the men. Birthday party planning, breast feedings, bad dates. I wasn’t looking for slapstick, but I was caught off-guard by some of the contents.

There is a how-to section regarding comedy performance. I guess there are up-and-coming comedians who might read the book for insights in honing the funny-skills. Personally, the guidelines for improvisation are wasted on me. I don’t see myself – near future or long-term – trying out a humor routine in front of an audience.

Similarly, the topics she covers in the space given to her Boss experiences have already been covered in greater detail by business management and human relations authors. Her insights are interesting, but seem wedged in and slightly out of place in a memoir (That’s how the book is categorized on the back cover).

Bossypants speaks to female equality, maternal issues, and Oprah. ESPN is not mentioned once. Therein lies the appeal – or lagging interest – depending on perspective. (I didn’t really expect sports jokes. There are some places that might have benefited by the inclusion of one or two as a distraction from the strict female orientation.)

Still, Bossypants is a quick and easy read, offering plenty of familiar cultural references. Some of the funniest lines are those throw-away types:

Two peanuts were walking down the street and one was a salted.

That’s her token joke, one she says she included for book buyers expecting a humorous read.

I guess that is enough for me.

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