71 years later, and yet the Woody Guthrie tune remains ever-so relevant

Good bye to my Juan/Good bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos Jesus y Maria
You won’t have a name/When you ride the big airplane
All they will call you/Will be ‘deportees’
--Plane Wreck at Los Gatos/Woody Guthrie (1948)

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It’s kind of scary to think that a song composed some 70-plus years ago remains so dead-on accurate this far into the 21^st Century. Yet that seems to be the case with the famed protest tune “Deportee.”

Composed and originally performed by Woody Guthrie, the same man who gave us “This Land is Your Land,” the tune has come to be associated with folk singer Pete Seeger and has been covered by so many differing artists – including some such as Dolly Parton and Johnny Cash whom I’m sure many would think fit the profile of the “real America” the ideologues claim they support.

THE SONG WAS motivated by Guthrie being offended by the New York Times account of the Jan. 28, 1948 plane crash near Los Gatos Canyon – not far from Fresno, Calif. Guthrie was bothered by the fact that the report clearly identified the members of the flight crew , while merely dismissed the 28 migrant farm workers on their way back to Mexico as “deportees.”

Which, I would suspect, is exactly the way that the proponents of the immigration raids that President Donald Trump has been screeching and screaming about for months would like to see happen yet again.

The raids were supposedly (or at least according to the rumor mill that Trump is openly encouraging) set to occur Sunday – possibly in the early hours. Many hundreds, if not thousands, of foreigners whom the ideologues are determined to think of as criminal just for their very existence in this country will be woken up from their sleep, hauled off by authorities, and eventually put onto an airplane taking them to Brownsville, Texas – where a bus will then transport them across the border to Mexico.

The last thing we’re supposed to think about is the fact that these individuals are human beings, with lives and individualities. Who probably are doing work in this country that make a worthwhile contribution to our society.

NOT THAT THE ideologues want to hear any of this kind of talk. It was just a week ago I encountered someone (who actually is a decent-enough human being) who tried to justify his nativist thoughts by saying he’s really only against Somalis – whom he claims are absolutely refusing to assimilate to the ways of life of our nation.

I don’t doubt that any effort to do reporting on the actual deportation process to bring humanity to these people will be regarded as somehow being un-American. Although to me, the actual “un-American” conduct is having the authorities bust down people’s doors and haul them off – possibly before anyone is truly awake and aware of what is happening. Just like in the modern-day Russia or North Korea whom Trump claims aren't really all that bad!

Now it’s always possible that the anticipated deportations won’t be as extensive as some fear – and are merely trash-talk meant to feed the mini-mentalities of those people who want to think Donald Trump is a true patriot – rather than just an egotistical buffoon with a bloated view of his self-importance. Maybe Monday will feel like a relief.

But the way in which the Trump-types keep insisting they’re targeting people with arrest records in this country (and could accidentally pick up others in the process) makes it seem like Guthrie was on to something all those years ago when he wrote: “They chase us like outlaws/Like rustlers, like thieves.”

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It’s Black History Month, and it has an anthem too many people don’t know

It’s “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing,” the just-over-a century-old poem set to music that first was intended to be a tribute to the memory of Abraham Lincoln but later became known as the “Negro National Anthem” – then later the black anthem after “negro” fell out of fashion.

The reporter-type person in me often hears the tune sung as part of the program at any type of black-oriented rally I cover, and it is a sweet little tune about people rising above the status in life that some in society would just as soon see them limited to.

BUT IT ALSO is so isolated within our culture. Way too often, non-black people don’t have a clue about the song.

I once recall an editor many years ago that there was “no such song” as the black anthem. He certainly had never heard of it.

Of course, I was equally as clueless. Although I remember as a kid hearing that there was some sort of song considered to be a “black anthem,” the first time I ever heard the song was an instance many years ago at the Cook County Jail.

The Rev. Jesse Jackson was at the jail to give an inspirational talk to the inmates in hopes he could motivate them to get their lives straightened out and make something of themselves.

IT WAS QUITE a sense to be in a gymnasium within the jail and hear inmates singing along to the old gospel-inspired tune, although I don’t know how many of those inmates got the civil rights leader’s message and rehabilitated themselves.

It would be nice to think they did. But we’ll never know.

I most recently heard the tune (or at least a verse of it) this week when the Common Council of Gary, Ind., chose to start off their twice-monthly meeting Wednesday by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance – then singing the anthem.

'Anthem' started as part of Lincoln tribute

Considering that Gary has an overwhelming share of its population (84 percent) as African-American individuals, it shouldn’t be shocking. The ‘black anthem’ certainly wouldn’t be out of place.

ALTHOUGH I ALSO wonder in today’s overly-partisan political times how many people would think it somehow subversive that anybody would think to sing such a tune.

For all I know, the people who go around wearing those chintzy, red “Make America Great Again” caps are probably amongst those who try to deny that a ‘black anthem’ exists and that we’d all be better off forgetting there was ever a need for such a tune.

Particularly when one considers that several of the local government officials chose to wear African-inspired garb as part of a Black History Month tribute, I’m sure the site would have offended the sensibilities of some.

Mostly those whose political leanings are such that the real way to make this nation “Great Again” is to eliminate their very existence.

BUT I’M REALISTIC enough to know that such erasure from our society isn’t going to happen – and that the real advancement for the better is accepting the cultural differences that add a sense of variety to our masses.

Besides, the idea that the poem that inspired the tune was meant to be a part of the program of a Lincoln tribute is something that ought to motivate those of us in the “Land of Lincoln” to take the tune seriously.

It is a pleasant-enough melody that no one ought to be thinking of as an example of political subversion.

That is, unless you’re of the type who seriously venerates the memory of Jefferson Davis. In which case, you really do have some issues to confront about life.

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Rolling Stones; older than I am, yet still rockin’ away after all these years

Perhaps this is a tacky joke, but I have to wonder what the fine print says for anybody buying tickets to the Rolling Stones’ upcoming U.S. tour – the one that has them traveling the country come spring and summer, with a Soldier Field stop on June 21.

In fact, Chicago will actually be the final stop on the tour – which creates the potential of a band operating on pure adrenaline. They’re going to have to be outright exhausted by that point in time.

CONSIDERING THAT THE key members of the band that has operated for more than a half-century are aged – rock stars Mick Jagger and Keith Richards both are now 75 years old.

Yet carrying on as though they think they’re still in their early 20s, playing music for the masses and carrying on the image of the late, great bluesman Muddy Waters – whose hit song “Rolling Stone” gave the band their very name.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that at age 53, I’m not capable of the kind of stamina one would need to do such a tour. It kind of astounds me that Richards, of all people, would be capable.

But then again, if someone were willing to pay me the kind of money the Rolling Stones will be getting for these shows, I’d figure a way to get myself up and running so as to do it.

A favorite, particularly the cover

BUT THEN AGAIN, the Rolling Stones seem to be a unique institution, performing those concerts that still draw the kinds of crowds to pack stadiums such as Soldier Field.

Whereas most other rock ‘n’ roll bands of the 1960s who still insist on performing live are reduced to events such as the Ribfest held every summer in suburban Naperville.

Or, like the Buckinghams – the one-time Chicago native band named for the fountain – playing venues such as the Paramount Theater of Asbury Park, N.J. (they really played there back on June 21 of this year).

Although the same purpose was served – allowing aging fans to be able to close their eyes and pretend they’re still youthful. And that with the opening guitar riff of “I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction),” they can pretend it’s still 1964 and that by listening to “the Stones,” they’re making a statement about how much “the Beatles suck!”

TO BE HONEST, though, watching those old video snippets of when the Beatles came to White Sox Park for a pair of concerts back in August of 1965 (just a few days before I was born) makes me think that event was far more significant than any of the Stones’ concerts – since my own quickie research finds they have played here so many times throughout the decades.

The only way the 2019 concert becomes memorable is if, by chance, there is a fatality in the band and the event becomes an informal memorial tribute. A morbid thought that I'm sure no one is rooting for.

But I’m sure the kind of people paying hundreds of dollars to sit in the outer reaches of the Soldier Field seating bowl aren’t going to let anyone deprive them of a musical experience.

And they’re not about to let some snot-nosed 19-year-old punk make rude comments about the Rolling Stones being a batch of geezers. They’re going to enjoy their money.

NOT THAT I have any intention of showing up – mostly because I think it’s impossible to truly capture the essence of what made the Rolling Stones so incredibly unique in musical annals. Time passes us all by, and what we have left are lasting memories.

So that may be the real essence – listening to those Rolling Stones records I have amongst my collection (yes, I did buy the “Blue & Lonesome” compact disc of a couple of years ago). My memories get triggered every time I play a record or disc.

And as far as I’m concerned, I have a personal favorite recording – although not one that would come to many fans’ minds. It’s “2120 S. Michigan Ave.,” the instrumental number on one of their first records meant to be a tribute to the old Chess Records label (which was located at that address).

Which is meant to remind us of the great blues music that once came from that address. Now if Muddy Waters, or any of the great old bluesmen, were to be capable of giving us a concert, THAT might be the concert event worthy of much of the hype the Rolling Stones will try to arouse in coming months.

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EXTRA: El Grito, Pritzker-style

I’m sure there are some people out there who are peeved (to put it mildly) at the very notion of “El Grito” being celebrated Saturday night within Chicago’s Millennium Park.

The ringing of the bell … 

Sure enough, the World Music Festival of Chicago held at the Pritzker Pavilion included an afternoon-into-evening of Mexican-themed musical acts, and ended with a ceremonial ringing-of-the-bell and the cry of El Grito – a recreation of the “Cry of Delores” action taken by Father Miguel Hidalgo on this date back in 1810 that began the fight for independence from Spain.

EL GRITO IS a demand for respect for Mexican people, and a recreation of it is usually a standard part of any celebration of Mexico Independence Day – which is Sunday.

But in this Age of Trump where the nitwits of our society want to use Mexican people as their punching bag, I’m sure it will bother them that such an act – along with a public singing of Mexico’s national anthem – occurred on what otherwise was a beautiful Saturday night in Chicago.

All of which was a part of the program put on by the Mariachi Herencia de Mexico – a mariachi band consisting of students from Benito Juarez High School in Chicago that actually has some talent, has made recordings and has even been nominated for Grammy awards.

… while waving the flag all part of Mexico tribute

Although I’m not about to claim that the Saturday evening program was totally inoffensive.

I’M STILL A little bit freaked out that their program felt the need to include a musical medley of songs en Ingles from that 1978 film “Grease.”

Somehow, the image of John Travolta’s “Danny Zucco” character just doesn’t fit into my notion of paying tribute to Mexico’s traditions through mariachi music.

Although for the xenophobes out there who are throwing tantrums about the notion of Mexican independence being celebrated in this country -- let alone in Chicago, keep in mind that the youthful mariachis also did a rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” that would have put to shame many a version done by Anglo-oriented musicians.

But Star-Spangled Banner got its moment too. Photos by Gregory Tejeda

And that Gov. Bruce Rauner’s public schedule for the weekend consisted of one lone event – an El Grito celebration Saturday night at Harrison Park in the Pilsen neighborhood. An event that has been an annual one for the man who has hopes Illinois voters will give him another term in office come Nov. 6.

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EXTRA: Aretha at rest; or Give the Lady some R-E-S-P-E-C-T

It was not long ago I felt compelled to write a little ditty concerning the death of Matt "Guitar" Murphy, the blues musician who had a classic moment in the 1980 film "The Blues Brothers" with the Queen of Soul herself, Aretha Franklin.

Now, Aretha herself has departed this realm of existence. Reports of her pancreatic cancer became public earlier this week, and her people say she died early Thursday. She was 76.

I SUPPOSE I could make quips about the reunification in Heaven of Franklin and Murphy -- running a soul food joint on Chicago's Maxwell Street in the hereafter. Perhaps even John Belushi would stop by and try to order his "four fried chickens and a Coke."

Only to get thrown out on his keister by Franklin for being blasphemous.

But the career of Franklin went so much further beyond that film based off the old Saturday Night Live sketches by Belushi and Dan Aykroyd. They also went so much further than the song "R-E-S-P-E-C-T," which is one I fear many people are going to play to death in coming days as they try to do video tributes to Aretha's life.

Personally, a favorite Franklin song of mine is her take on "Chain of Fools" It is one I suspect I'll enjoy hearing until the day I depart this lifespan.

OR THERE'S ALSO this video snippet off television in Nigeria. What's more memorable -- Franklin's take on "You Make Me Feel (like a natural woman)?"

Or seeing then-President Barack Obama tear up at her performance? Who also got to hear her perform when she sang as part of the Inauguration ceremonies when Obama was sworn in as president back in that long-ago day in 2009.

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EXTRA: 39 years, really?

It has been 39 years to the date that either Chicago White Sox fans allowed a catastrophe to occur in between games of a double-header against the Detroit Tigers. Or else outspoken broadcaster/former ballplayer Jimmy Piersall showed himself to be the ultimate crotchety old man.

We're talking Disco Demolition, when local broadcaster Steve Dahl made his rep by leading the anti-disco music rally (dressed in a pseudo-military uniform as a "general" in the war against bad music) that resulted in some 2,800 fans storming the field and causing damage, while many others remained in their seats and wondered what kind of "dope" these young kids were smoking.

I STILL GET a kick out of watching the WSNS-TV broadcast of the game, with Piersall attempting to narrate what was happening on the field (along with the late baseball writer Bill Gleason of the Chicago Sun-Times), while also showing his contempt.

"This is the sickest sight I've seen in a ballpark in my life," Piersall said. "This garbage of destroying a record has turned into a fiasco."

While many of those who have memories of storming the field talk of how liberating an experience it was.

We even got to hear Piersall go into a diatribe that makes him sound like he was a Trump-ite, some four decades before it was fashionable to be so.

"WE HAVE BECOME a nation of followers, we're insecure. We follow someone who's a jerk," he said, while adding he didn't understand the appeal of the event. "I'd rather go swimming, or do a lot of other things than stand around on a baseball field."

Some 39 years later, people still recall the event -- and some people awash in Chicago Cubbiness try to use it to detract from the White Sox.

Which makes me think Gleason may also have missed the point when he said, "This is not a scene I want to remember."

Because it is one that many of us will never forget. Including Major League Baseball itself. Because would anybody be remembering a 39-year-old game between the two teams that finished in fifth place in their respective American League divisions for any other reason?

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Django at 108; or That Toddlin' Town

I couldn't help but notice Tuesday is the birthday anniversary of Django Reinhardt, the celebrated master of "gypsy jazz" who was one of the first guitar players to use the stringed instrument as the lead for his music, rather than just strumming chord patterns in the background for rhythm.

Reinhardt, of course, is long departed from our realm of existence, dying of a stroke in 1953 at age 43. If he were still with us, he'd be 108 now. And yes, the centennial of his birth was celebrated with, amongst other places, a tribute concert eight years ago at the Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park.

YES, I'LL ADMIT that while I enjoy listening to recordings of Reinhardt and his guitar playing (which I can't even come close to matching myself), I'm writing this copy in part to give myself a break for the day. Regular commentary will return Wednesday. I'm sure Donald Trump (or Bruce Rauner) will have said something stupid by then.

But I'll leave you with a couple of recordings to sample his work -- one of which is his take on that classic tune of our city, the one that boasts of us as "that toddlin' town" (and which I always prefer to that other Chicago tune that was the theme song from the Frank Sinatra film Robin and the Seven Hoods). Along with an actual video snippet of Reinhardt playing "live."

I hope you can enjoy his playing similar to how I do.

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EDITOR'S NOTE: For those of you who can't comprehend the existence of anything prior to 1980, there was that Woody Allen-directed film from 1999, "Sweet and Lowdown," starring Sean Penn as Emmett Ray, a guitar player who billed himself as the "Second-greatest" guitarist in the world, right behind Django. Personally, I still get a kick out of the Penn character's reaction upon actually meeting Reinhardt himself.

Holidaze upon us; go do something real

“It’s beginning to look at lot like Christmas.” Yeah, I know you’re probably sick of hearing that lyric over and over (along with countless other holiday songs that have played repeatedly on the radio ever since mid-October).

But it really is Christmas on this Monday.

SO IF YOU’RE actually reading this now, I have but one thing to say to you. “Get a Life!” Get off your computer, or your iPhone or whatever mobile device you might be using to read the Internet.

Go out into the real world on this holiday and find something worthy to do, other than reading the latest rants that Donald Trump may be wanting to send your way via Twitter. I swear the best thing we could do as a society would be to ignore the man altogether if it were possible.

I’m at the point where I think I even respect those individuals more who will choose to spend their day at a casino – gambling away their funds in hopes they can hit a holiday jackpot that will make their lives (for a few days, at least) somewhat more pleasant.

For at least one day, let’s give ourselves a present of freedom from Internet trivialities. It will all still be there on Tuesday for us to fret over.

AND MY GIFT to you (at least before you log off your computer for the day)?

Eartha Kitt, who when she wasn’t Catwoman-clad, gave us “Santa Baby.” Along with Celia Cruz’ cheery take on “Jingle Bells” en Español.

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Signing ‘scat singing?’

It was kind of beautiful to watch, if also hilarious and also (if you think about it too intensely) nonsensical to watch.
 

Signing 'scat' music? Photos by Gregory Tejeda

The “it” was a moment Saturday night during the Chicago Jazz Festival, which I attended that night and was at the Pritzker Pavilion during their “Ellabration!” program by which several singers acknowledged the musical talent and legacy of Ella Fitzgerald – who if she were still alive today would be 100.

THE PROGRAM CONSISTED of female singers Sheila Jordan, Dee Alexander and Frieda Lee, along with male performer Paul Marinaro – all being led by singer/hostess Spider Saloff.

Now let’s be honest – no one mistook any of those individuals for Ella herself. Although hearing the extensive catalog of songs she created from the 1940s until her death in 1996 (she was 79) being performed was a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Although I have to confess to “the moment” that will stick in my mind being when I happened to look over to the far right end of the stage, which is where the American Sign Language interpreter happened to be standing.

She being the individual who attempts to capture the mood of the lyrics and music with sign language so as to allow those who are hearing-impaired to capture some sense of what is taking place.

A trio of ladies trying to convey the spirit of Ella Fitzgerald

NOW ANYBODY WHO knows about music knows that a significant part of the Ella repertoire was scat singing – which some might dismiss as gibberish but actually is a musical skill that is difficult to pull off without sounding ridiculous.

Because it entails improvisation and the use of sound without specific words – I have heard some people say it is the equivalent of using one’s voice as an instrument rather than to speak.

Woman keeping self cool with her 'jazz fan'

Which means there aren’t exactly words for the sign language interpreter to spell out or translate. The interpreter who happened to be working while Frieda Lee was scatting literally began waving her arms about and fluttering her fingers in all direction as if trying to capture the random nature of the sounds that those of us fortunate enough to not be hearing-impaired were hearing.

Not being deaf, I don’t know if that interpretation in any way captured the spirit of what we heard. But it was something that was a sight to see – although I’m sure there are some smart-alecks who would think the interpreter was just flailing her hands about, or maybe having some sort of epileptic seizure.

I’M SURE MY description of what I saw is not doing justice to what occurred. I know the pictures I attempted to take don’t really capture the beauty of what I saw. The best photograph I shot almost makes it appear as though the woman were being held up in front of a Millennium Park crowd – which I’m sure some ideological nitwits will want to believe is a routine Chicago occurrence.

Millennium security watches ...

Although I also have to admit to being clueless as to how many hearing-impaired people were actually among the Saturday night Jazz Fest crowd and relied on the sign language interpreter to provide them an understanding.

For some, I’m sure they gave the woman (there were several that night, working in shifts throughout each of the different performers Saturday night) and her gesticulations little thought.

Now I know I get a kick out of the music festivals Chicago sponsors each summer. They do provide some quality entertainment that rises above the usual level of dreck that people often pay ridiculous amounts of money for in order to get tickets to.

... over Saturday night Jazz Fest crowd

PERSONALLY, I WILL long remember the 1985 evening when I saw John Hammond, Stevie Ray Vaughn AND Koko Taylor all perform hour-long sets, one right after the other, on the same stage.

Any one of those performers would have been a memorable show. Put together was quite an experience.

But Saturday night with the sign language interpreter was a sight I’m also going to keep in my mind for years to come. For all I know, it will be the last thought I have on my death bed – and a future generation will ponder for years to follow just what I was babbling about in my final moments.

It would be the sight of scat singing – which has a visual beauty that matches anything Ella herself ever uttered. And I also got to hear some beautiful voices perform. All in all, a pleasant weekend evening.

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EXTRA: A happy 241st!

It's Independence Day, and I couldn't help but share a pair of video clips I stumbled across during the day, including one of a song that some think ought to be the nation's anthem (unless you're the type who finds something enjoyable about Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" -- it's a little too over the top for me).

And yes, I also included a bit of holiday schmaltz. Extra points for you if you're of an age where you could have watched it live on television when it was performed.

Hope you all are having a Happy Independence Day celebration. And that the upcoming evening fireworks display on Tuesday gives you some joy -- or that your wacky neighbor doesn't manage to burn his house down while shooting off his own explosives.

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EXTRA: Chuck Berry just as much a part of 2120 S. Michigan lore as the most hard-core of Chicago bluesmen

Chuck Berry died Saturday. At age 90, it shouldn’t be a shock.

And while he was a St. Louis native who towards the end of his life spent much of his time and talent at "Blueberry Hill," a Missouri nightclub he owned, the honest truth is that Berry is as significant a figure in the whole Chicago music scene’s history as anyone else.

FOR BERRY WAS amongst the musicians who recorded at the one-time Chess Records studios on South Michigan Avenue that is largely remembered because of the cast of hard-core blues musicians who made their bones there.

That record label’s catalogue is still out there, what with MCA continuing to release the old recordings of artists such as Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Howlin’ Wolf and the ladies such as Etta James and Koko Taylor.

But while Chess Records might well have had the blues of black America at its core of operations, the fact that the record label had a crossover such as Berry on its roster was a significant boost to the label’s bottom line.

You could argue that it was the presence of Chuck Berry that helped keep the record label alive as long as it lasted (into the mid-1970s), and that it might well be Berry’s affiliation with the bluesmen that helped enhance their own legacies.

CHESS AND THE many old bluesmen might well be long forgotten and 2120 S. Michigan Ave. might well be nothing more than an obscure reference used by the Rolling Stones to title an early instrumental number they performed on one of their first records.

The fact was that Berry was the showman who helped put the flash in early rock ‘n’ roll, which is why we remember him while other artists such as the Flamingoes and Jimmy Cavallo and the House Rockers (all of whom appeared in the 1959 film “Go, Johnny Go!”) are long forgotten.

And why pop culture references to Berry remain humorous.

Berry appeared as himself in cinema

Remember the old Cheech and Chong gag about how Berry was the true king of rock ‘n’ roll because he went to jail for it? Or how in the film "Back to the Future," character Marvin Berry supposedly called his cousin, Chuck, during that zany guitar performance by actor Michael J. Fox’s “Marty McFly” character – implying that Chuck Berry was taught his style by someone who was actually ripping him off!

PERSONALLY, I ALWAYS enjoyed listening to Berry’s guitar playing and thought it a shame that his first “Number One” record was that silly and trivial “My Ding A Ling.” When his solo to “Johnny B. Goode” may well be the ultimate one that any aspiring guitar player tries to rip off for his own.

Personally, I still don’t have it down after all these years of strumming on guitars in my spare time.

And now, Berry is gone. Although the records he created in the Bronzeville neighborhood studios (an era recollected in the 2008 film “Cadillac Man” that even included Berry’s role in the record label’s success) are ones that will continue to live on.

Although the record industry may well be a pitiful shame. Because as it turns out, Berry had been working on a new record album of fresh material – his first new release of the 21^st Century.

Mos Def portrayed Berry in '08 film

IT WON’T MATTER how bad it will be; in fact, I’ll bet it probably will be mediocre. But it likely will sell well, and may well turn out to be one of his highest-selling records ever.

We’re good about paying tribute to people once they die and aren’t capable of appreciating or enjoying the praise. Just like the Chicago Cubs' Ron Santo getting into the Baseball Hall of Fame posthumously.

The conspiracy-theory part of my mind is almost warped enough to suggest that Berry somehow faked his death to help boost his record sales. Except that common sense tells me rock 'n' roll already has enough "Elvis is Still Alive" conspiracies that we don't need tales popping up of Chuck Berry sightings outside a White Castle on the Sout' Side.
 

And on a final note, I'll acknowledge a personal favorite when it comes to Chuck Berry's recordings. For me, one of the pleasures of the Christmas holiday is that I can shamelessly overplay “Merry Christmas, Baby,” one of the few holiday-themed songs that doesn’t become monotonous and that I can hear over and over and over each year.

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Honest Abe turns a sprightly 208; 78 years since Anderson pays tribute

It has been more than two centuries since Illinois' most significant resident was born. Even though, to be honest, Abraham Lincoln was born in the backwoods of Kentucky and lived his youthful years in Indiana (our state's biggest name was a Hoosier?) before finally arriving in Illinois in his early 20s.

And choosing to remain here until he left for Washington, D.C., and the presidency in 1861, never to return (in what was an ironic bit of self-prophecy).

From 19th Century playing cards ...

LINCOLN WAS SIGNIFICANT in holding this nation together as one when many of the same tensions we still feel in 2017 reached such epic levels that people actually tried to engage in secession. Making him worthy of all the praise his backers laud on him.

So as a little Lincoln birthday tribute, here’s a video snippet of Marian Anderson, one of the greatest singers our nation has ever produced – except that certain people used the same hang-ups that exist today to try to denigrate her.

Here’s her famed performance from 1939, done appropriately enough on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. I’d like to think he’d have been proud to be the backdrop for this glorious musical moment.

,,, to 21st Century baseball cards, Abe's image appears everywhere

  -30-

EXTRA: Is a Mexican-inspired song a new Democratic political tradition?

I couldn’t help but notice the song that Mexican ranchera singer Vicente Fernandez came up with this week to tout the presidential aspirations of Hillary Clinton.

There are those Latinos who will vehemently argue that Clinton’s level of support for people of Latin American ethnic origins is apathetic, at best. But when the Republican opponent has gone out of his way to use Latinos as the equivalent of a piñata to gain political points for himself, it’s no wonder that Spanish-tinged political rhetoric is going to bear a heavy pro-Hillary tint.

THE LATINO VICTORY Project, which is based in this country, worked with the Mexican citizen to get him to record El Corrido de Hillary Clinton – a tune that says Hillary is respectful of Latinos and will be a bridge between ourselves and the masses of this society.

Perhaps if Trump could have just kept his mouth shut about Mexicans being drug dealers and rapists, nobody would have felt compelled to sing about the campaign en Español.

This reminds me of the 2008 campaign cycle when the Texas primary resulted in ¡Viva Obama!, which told us of the wonders that the senator from Chicago would bring to our nation if only we gave him a chance.

Although to my mindset, it’s just a parody of the mariachi band standard ¡Viva Mexico!

BUT WILL WE now feel compelled to have a Spanish-language novelty song for every Democratic presidential aspirant in the future? I say Democrat, because the Republicans seem determined to be the party that resists the growing number of Latinos living in this country.

Heck, George W. Bush lost a lot of his conservative ideologue support when he began to be perceived as too sympathetic to Latinos!

And for those who want to believe Latinos are too hostile to the outgoing president, I’ll be the first to concede there are mixed feelings. But I doubt we’d have had that Thalia dance at the White House if there wasn’t some sense of admiration.

  -30-

A matter of news judgment: Whose celebrity death matters more? Does Trump get trumped by Prince?

As someone approaching the three-decade mark of having worked in the news business, news judgment at times becomes second nature. As routine as watching a quality shortstop gobble up ground balls even if they took a bad hop off a pebble.

Purple Rain tops Playboy ...

But there are times when the calls made by editor types create some unique circumstances.

WHEN I WOKE up Thursday morning and checked around the Internet, it seems that the potential was for a celebrity death to dominate the nation’s news reports. Joanie Laurer, a.k.a. Chyna, was found dead in her Los Angeles-area apartment

She was a part of the crew of the World Wrestling Federation of old, and gave off the impression of a semi-attractive woman who was so muscular that there was no doubt she was capable of beating the caca out of anybody who messed with her.

Now I was never much of a fan of professional wrestling. But my brother, Christopher, was. He acknowledged the “fake” status of wrestling – not really a sport, but instead an overly-physical show in which the “entertainers” do their own stunts.

And to help enhance those stunts, she wasn’t shy about admitting her use of steroid substances that bolstered her muscular bulk.

QUITE THE FREAK show, and one that I’m sure some people remember fondly. Enough that I’m pretty sure they were pissed when later Thursday morning publicists for the entertainer Prince (a.k.a. Prince Rogers Nelson) announced that he was dead.

Found at his home near Minneapolis, a city of which he was a native.

... in terms of topping Prince over Chyna.

Chyna might have gone on to appear in movies and do a spread for Playboy magazine. But it seems the film “Purple Rain” and the song “1999” are a longer-lasting legacy than the sight of a scantily-clad Chyna whom not even Hugh Hefner would publish these days (because we’re really supposed to read Playboy for the articles these days).

Prince wound up being the big celebrity death. Chyna quickly got relegated to second-class status, and I’m curious to see how her death actually gets played in the Friday newspapers.

I WONDER IF we’ll get the same type of sniping as occurred back on May 17, 1990. That was the day after both Jim Henson (the Muppets creator) and Rat Pack singer Sammy Davis, Jr., died.

Many newspapers (including the Chicago Tribune) took their share of grief for thinking that creating characters such as Kermit the Forg and Big Bird was more important than singing “The Candyman” or being Frank Sinatra’s party buddy.

Personally, I don’t think Chyna or Prince would top either Davis or Henson on the overall society contribution checklist. But obituary placements often are a matter of timing.

Chyna might have got bigger overall play if Prince’s publicists had had the decency (some might think) to hold off another day in announcing his death – which came just a few days after reports of his emergency hospitalization in the Quad Cities.

I’M SURE SOME people are going to want to take on a “conspiracy theory” mode in thinking that something suspicious exists about the singer’s death.

Now some might think this is celebrity overplay. Although I have to admit those deaths do catch a certain level of interest that the rest of the news report fails to do with its presidential campaign obsessions.

Trump's appeal isn't orange, it's green

As I look at the newspapers in front of me, I see the lede story headlines of “Trump Stumps in Indy” (say that three times quickly) and “Russia Expands Submarine Fleet, Fueling Rivalry.” The latter came from the New York Times, which relegated their Trump-related story to Page Three. Although that story told us of the potential for the upcoming Indiana primary elections (May 3) could be the ones that make it inevitable that The Donald will be the Republican presidential nominee.

As far as I’m concerned, that is all the more reason to think there’s something funky in the polluted part of Lake Michigan water that those Hoosiers are consuming in the land east of State Line Road!

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Too black to be Latina, too light to be black? Saldana shows how confused society still is with regards to race

SIMONE: As herself

As one who enjoys the singing of the late musical performer Nina Simone, I wish I could say I was looking forward to the film based on her life that is supposed to be released publicly next month.

But with all the fuss that’s being made over the fact that actress Zoe Saldana is playing the part of the famed singer, all that this film is likely to do is further illustrate just how confused our society is with regards to race.

FOR THE RECORD, Saldana is a dark-skinned woman whose ethnic origins include significant elements of the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico – along with traces of Haiti and Lebanon. I’m sure there are many in our society who look at her and see a black woman; something she has never tried to deny or downplay.

SALDANA: Can she be convincing as Simone?

She’s a dark-skinned Latina. There have been feature-type stories written that emphasize Saldana as the perfect example of how not all Latinas are light-brown in complexion, and can come in many complexions.

But there are those people who think that isn’t good enough for Saldana to play the part of Simone. They want someone whom they’d like to think of as pure-black.

As though her ties with Latin America make her unfit to think of holding such a role. Too light to be black, and too black to be Latina? It makes me think that all sides of our society have their hang-ups that need to be overcome. Either that, or maybe us Latinos are correct in thinking it's everybody else in society who's a bit ridiculous.

INSTEAD OF BEING a celebration of the life of an entertaining singer with a social conscience back in the 1960s, this film is likely to get bogged down in racial nonsense – particularly from people who think of race as an absolute.

Rather than some sort of mixture that 99 percent of us have little bits and pieces of everything. Everybody has that relative in their past who is the “dirty little secret” they’d probably rather have everybody else forget all about.

It’s going to be bogged down in a lot of cheap rhetoric about racial categories; rather than focusing on whether or not Saldana is capable of convincingly portraying the singer who gave us a convincing cover of that semi-pornographic blues tune “Sugar in My Bowl.”

At least it was when blues singer Bessie Smith gave it to us on ancient recordings nearly a century old. Simone turned it into something almost loving and sweet.

ALTHOUGH I DO wonder what Simone herself would have thought of the casting choice (she died in 2003). She was into the Black Power movement of the 1960s, and I know some jazz music fans (including my father) who still get outraged anytime they hear the song “Mississippi Goddamn.”

Which was her musical response to much of the violence against black civil rights activists who protested throughout the southern U.S. in the 1960s.

Maybe Nina would have been bothered too by someone not quite as dark and a little more brown than black portraying her. Just as I remember a few people getting all worked up when Saldana played the part of Lt. Uhura (the role that Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., supposedly enjoyed) in that 2009 remake of Star Trek as a movie.

Although I found it interesting to read reports on Friday where Simone’s daughter said her objections to the film had nothing to do with Saldana’s complexion and were more tied to the script.

LISA SIMONE KELLY told Time magazine she’s bothered by the romantic relationship the film has her mother having with her manager, Clifton Henderson – a man whom Kelly claims was actually gay.

That may be a more legitimate reason to be skeptical of the film – although one I’m sure that would bore to tears the people who’d rather get all worked up over skin complexion.

Let's be honest -- being able to do Calvin Klein ads convincingly is a large part of why Saldana gets film roles

If anything, such disputes may wind up showing how irrelevant complexion and racial differences can be.

Particularly if the film winds up directing at least a few people back to the original records of Simone’s music. That would be the best outcome of this whole experience.

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