Last week, a colleague and I were yapping about the latest whittling at the Oregonian. Like lots of other folks, we speculated about the future of the Fourth Estate in general and the diminution of local arts coverage in particular. You see, in the latest round of paring, long-time arts writer and editor, Barry Johnson, accepted management’s buy-out offer, opting to dive into the brave new world of whatever.
The arts community (whatever that is) generally agrees that Mr. Johnson’s departure is a loss for the Oregonian and for civilization, though we’re confident that his next endeavor will be bright and shiny and smart. To divine what that next project may be we’ve been parsing his comments on Twitter, Facebook and elsewhere. We’re seeing hints of some kind of nonprofit arts journalism enterprise. We’re waiting … our breaths bated. As we learn more, we’ll keep you posted.
My colleague concluded our speculative conversation about Mr. Johnson’s plans by saying, “It’s like that Tom Wait’s song …” This is the song (really more of a poem)to which she referred:
Showing posts with label The Oregonian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Oregonian. Show all posts
We're Back!
Where the hell have I been all this time?
I haven’t posted since October 18th. October was Culture Shock’s leanest month in … well, in months. At 11:55 pm on October 31st, I began a post about my Halloween night tour of Lone Fir Cemetery. I thought I'd finish writing it the next day and it would still appear as an October entry. I never finished it. That's a lie. I never started it. All I did was upload this picture:
By the way, that's not even a picture I took. I found it on the internet.
How embarrassing and pathetic. I hang my head in shame. Here is a pictoral representation of how I feel:
I wish I could tell you that I secured a lucrative publishing deal that prevents me from writing anything for free anymore. Or that my commitment to reducing greenhouse gas emissions prevents me from turning on the computer. Perhaps you thought I’d accepted Culture Shock’s generous buy-out offer and taken early retirement. Have you been worried that I’ve been stricken by swine flu?
The simple truth is I lost the momentum. The mojo wasn't there. Lassitude. Plus the start of the arts season, which means everything in my life is much busier. I’ll try to do better, but no promises. Now get off my case.
While we’re on the blogging beat, I have a few items to report:
Barry Johnson, friend of Culture Shock and one of this town’s most astute cultural observers and pontificators, has announced that he will be leaving the Oregonian next month. Sadly, our local daily rag continues to shed talent. Barry has opted for the paper's latest buy-out offer and plans to seek a new path in cultural journalism. We look forward to reading his insights in whatever form he chooses to share them. For our Facebooking friends, you can sign up to join “Oregonians for More Barry Johnson.” As for the Oregonian, we hope it finds a way out of its death spiral.
Tomorrow night, I’ll be attending Portland Opera’s opening night of the Philip Glass opera, Orphée. Unfortunately I won't be there as a member of the bloggercorps the Opera has recruited to generate on-the-spot commentary. That crew includes such weighty thinkers as Bob Hicks (of Art Scatter), Storm Large (of the Eight-Mile Wide Larges), Byron Beck (Portland’s Rona Barrett), and Cynthia Fuhrman (who?). Since I will be attending as a civilian, I’ll miss out on the drinking games (down a shot each time a musical phrase repeats). It also means I missed out on schmoozing with Philip Glass the other day, and I won’t get the backstage tour. Does it sound like I’m pouting?
The advantage is that I won’t be pressured to write anything interesting or informative. I suggest that you read what Bob Hicks has already written about Orphée (the man is doing his homework), then pretend that you read it here.
I haven’t posted since October 18th. October was Culture Shock’s leanest month in … well, in months. At 11:55 pm on October 31st, I began a post about my Halloween night tour of Lone Fir Cemetery. I thought I'd finish writing it the next day and it would still appear as an October entry. I never finished it. That's a lie. I never started it. All I did was upload this picture:
By the way, that's not even a picture I took. I found it on the internet.
How embarrassing and pathetic. I hang my head in shame. Here is a pictoral representation of how I feel:
I wish I could tell you that I secured a lucrative publishing deal that prevents me from writing anything for free anymore. Or that my commitment to reducing greenhouse gas emissions prevents me from turning on the computer. Perhaps you thought I’d accepted Culture Shock’s generous buy-out offer and taken early retirement. Have you been worried that I’ve been stricken by swine flu? The simple truth is I lost the momentum. The mojo wasn't there. Lassitude. Plus the start of the arts season, which means everything in my life is much busier. I’ll try to do better, but no promises. Now get off my case.
While we’re on the blogging beat, I have a few items to report:
Barry Johnson, friend of Culture Shock and one of this town’s most astute cultural observers and pontificators, has announced that he will be leaving the Oregonian next month. Sadly, our local daily rag continues to shed talent. Barry has opted for the paper's latest buy-out offer and plans to seek a new path in cultural journalism. We look forward to reading his insights in whatever form he chooses to share them. For our Facebooking friends, you can sign up to join “Oregonians for More Barry Johnson.” As for the Oregonian, we hope it finds a way out of its death spiral.
Tomorrow night, I’ll be attending Portland Opera’s opening night of the Philip Glass opera, Orphée. Unfortunately I won't be there as a member of the bloggercorps the Opera has recruited to generate on-the-spot commentary. That crew includes such weighty thinkers as Bob Hicks (of Art Scatter), Storm Large (of the Eight-Mile Wide Larges), Byron Beck (Portland’s Rona Barrett), and Cynthia Fuhrman (who?). Since I will be attending as a civilian, I’ll miss out on the drinking games (down a shot each time a musical phrase repeats). It also means I missed out on schmoozing with Philip Glass the other day, and I won’t get the backstage tour. Does it sound like I’m pouting?
The advantage is that I won’t be pressured to write anything interesting or informative. I suggest that you read what Bob Hicks has already written about Orphée (the man is doing his homework), then pretend that you read it here.
My TBA Adventures
The "L" is For Loser
I told all my Twitter friends that I was going to be tweeting about PICA’s Time Based Art Festival (TBA:09) this year. Alison Hallett at the Portland Mercury included me on a list of folks who would be writing about TBA, going so far as to identify me as a “local arts writer." I promised that I would be reporting on TBA:09 with “grace, wit and perspicacity.” I don’t know what I was thinking.
The awful truth is that I’m a cardboard-cutout of a cultural critic. Every September I have the best of intentions to immerse myself in PICA’s annual time bomb of an arts festival, but it never happens. I suffer from two TBA bugaboos: Time and money. Well, three problems: Time, money and torpor. Always the torpor.
Three years ago, I had a full Festival Pass that I never used, even though it identified me as a TBA Artist and bestowed special bragging rights. I earned that distinction by joining the Extreme Guitar Orchestra, an outfit which opened TBA:06 in Pioneer Courthouse Square with verve and volume. Along with a few dozen confreres, I whanged away on an electric guitar under the baton of composer John King to create what a least one observer (me) said was "unequivocally the most epic musical moment that Portland is likely to ever experience. Ever."
As shown in the photographic evidence below, I'm one of the few orchestra members who dressed appropriately for the event by bedecking myself from the Johnny Cash Man in Black Collection. I also donned dark shades and rocked my head back and forth in the hope that audience members would think, "Wow. That blind cat really has it going on."
When my ship has come in (any day now), I swear that I will take two weeks off from work to devote myself full time to TBA. My wife and I will send the dog to doggie summer camp and check ourselves into a downtown boutique hotel. We'll sleep in until noon, rising to order crepes and mimosas from room service. We’ll spend afternoons and evenings attending performances, films and lectures. Then we’ll party late into the night at The Works with the rest of the Scapigliati. Of course, I will set aside a few hours each day to post intelligent reviews of everything I see. Until that day, you can expect me to continue constructing my little Potemkin Villages of cultural insight.
This year, the extent of my TBA participation was: (a) I visited the Washington High School site on a quiet Sunday afternoon to check out the visual art installations; (b) I watched a little bit of an online performance piece in which the artists drove around town all day with a camera pointed at themselves; and (c) I watched a lunchtime performance of "Small Metal Objects" in Pioneer Courthouse Square. In the next few days, I'll write a little bit about what I saw, mostly to encourage you to visit the installations at Washington High, which will remain there for the next month.
All I really did was read about what everyone else was doing and thinking. I have to say that the blogosphere, twitterati and alternative press (aka Portland Mercury) smoked the main stream media (aka The Oregonian) when it came to covering the TBA. Not that the Oregonian's coverage was bad, it was just scant. Here are some of the best places to read about the Festival if you missed it:
Culturephile at Portland Monthly provided insightful and timely blog and Twitter coverage of the festival courtesy of associate editor, Lisa Radon, and her compatriots. You may have noticed that Culturephile has been added to the Culture Shock blogroll.
Portland Mercury fielded a team of folks in a special TBA section of its blog. I especially liked Alison Hallett's stories because she's not afraid to call out bullshit when she sees it.
PICA had its own blog team at work, hosted by the folks at Urban Honking. It wasn't all puff and fluff.
Mighty Toy Cannon: The Beverage that Refreshes!
On the occasion of the first anniversary of my life as a blogger, an erstwhile follower used her espionage skills and vast rolodex to find the recipe for my namesake beverage, the “Mighty Toy Cannon.” Thank you Ms. Laura.As I wrote in my inaugural post just one year ago, I seized upon the "Mighty Toy Cannon" sobriquet after reading an Oregonian article by Sara Perry. To accompany her interview with the bartender at El Gaucho, Ms. Perry printed the recipe for one of his favorite drinks: The Mighty Toy Cannon. Liking the way that name rang and sang, I promptly added it to a growing list of potential band names.* Shortly thereafter, I adopted it as my blog alias and the rest is minor history.
Legions of followers have subsequently asked for the recipe. (Really just one, and he's forgotten by now). Alas, I could neither remember it nor find it in the Oregonian's online archive. Thanks to Ms. Laura's diligent digging and Ms. Perry's impeccable record-keeping, I now have the secret of this magical elixir that shares my name.
If you have refined tastes, a pre-depression pocketbook, and a powerful thirst, you might try the official recipe during this hot July weekend. For the more impoverished of our brethren, I've provided a less costly substitute.
Mighty Toy Cannon (Elite Edition)
Freshly squeezed lemon juice
Powdered sugar for sprinkling
1/2 ounce gin, preferably Bombay Sapphire
1/2 ounce Chambord (see Note)
Champagne, preferably brut, or Prosecco, chilled (see Note)
Long lemon zest for garnish
Rinse the inside of a champagne flute or stemmed glass with fresh lemon juice. Sprinkle the inside with powdered sugar. Add the gin, followed by the Chambord. Top with champagne and garnish with the lemon zest. Voila!
Note: Chambord is a French liqueur made from raspberries and cognac. Prosecco is the sparkling wine made predominately from an Italian white grape grown in the northern Vento region.
Mighty Toy Cannon (Great Depression II Edition)
Splash of lemon juice (use plastic lemon rather than a bottle if serving guests)
Sugar packet (from coffee shop or gas station)
½ ounce gin (whatever brand falls to hand)
Sham-bord (see Note)
2 more ounces gin
Lemon-Lime Soda, preferably 7-Up or Sprite. Tonic will do in a pinch.
Rinse out water glass and swish a little lemon juice around to disinfect. Vigorously shake the sugar packet before dumping the contents in the glass. Add ½ ounce of gin. Muddle the Sham-Bord slurry and set aside. Add the rest of the gin. Top up with 7-Up. Better add some ice too. Add gin to taste. Kazaam!
Note: Sham-bord is a tablespoon of raspberry jam (Smuckers preferred, but generic is fine) muddled with an ounce of vodka.
Here are a few other substitutes to consider during these hard times:
Depression Bloody Mary = V8 juice and flat beer
Depression Mimosa = Tang and beer
Depression Champagne: Beer and lemon-lime soda. (This might be a good time to use the Sham-Bord slurry).
* The newest addition to my band name list comes courtesy of a phrase recently used by the estimable Mead Hunter: Ink, Angst & Entropy (a trio).
Further News: The Mighty Toy Cannon is now moonlighting as a short-form improviser at the Twitter Lounge. Think of it as MTC-Lite: All the erudition and wit you've learned to tolerate, packaged in 140 characters or less. If you Tweet, please follow @mightytoycannon. Be sure to tell me that I sent you.
100 Years of Blogging Dangerously
Gather ‘round me youngsters, and I’ll tell you a wee tale from old timey-time. You might even call it a legend, ‘cause it’s the story 'bout how your great-great-grandpappy became the blogger known ‘round these parts at that Mighty Toy Cannon.Before I git started, one of you tykes might just top up my glass there. Don’t be stingy now. Fill it up to the top and plop another one of those olives in there. Oh yes indeedy! That’s what I call tasty. Okay, simmer down now and pay attention.
It was the long, hot summer of 2008 as I remember it. I wasn’t doin’ nothing what amounted to anything. I was just a lost soul sitting outside of the social network peering in through the window like a hungry dog lookin’ at a pork chop. Everybody those days was startin’ to blog and facebook and twitter and twatter, and all kinds of crazy things they was doing. I could hardly keep up with it all. It was just one big mess of intercommunicating that would raise hackles on the head of a hoarhound in heat. You see, we was all learnin’ to get along without having to look each other in the face.
One day that fellow you know as Uncle Jeffy sent me what we used to call an e-mail message. The “e” stood for “electrozimbonic,” and it was the way we used to talk to each other. That was the time right before holographic iBrain implants made communicating as simple as sayin’ “Howdy do?” to your neighbor. Nowadays y’all are used to communicatin’ using jes’ your brain waves. Back then we had to flap our lips or use our fingers to make words.
Well, I remember that July day when Uncle Jeffy (we called him Culture Jock) sent a message to a mess of us that read, “Hey. I need some help making this here Culture Shock blog more interesting and entertaining.” There was another word he used--it’ll come to me in jes’ a second-- provocatitious? I’m not sure if that’s right, but it’ll have to do for now.
Ol’ Culture Jock asked, “Would you be willin’ to lend a hand?” He said it would be like an old-timey barn-raising. The way he told it, we’d all pitch in and drink lemonade and eat biscuits when we was done. Everybody else … I forget their names now … jumped in right away, but I was naturally skeptical. You might have even called me dubious.
Well, I said to Culture Jock right off, “What the heck would I have to say ‘bout anything?”
Right back at me, he said, “Go on! You say interesting things all the time! Everybody says so, they do.”
Then I said to him, “What if I want to stay 'nonymous ‘cause I don’t want nobody finding me out and learning my secrets?” I didn’t really have secrets, but we had this thing called “privacy” that we used to let our heads worry ‘bout back then.
Just like that, he answered, “Heck. You could just make up some crazy old name and nobody would ever know the difference.”
So I threw one last thing at him: “What if I get in one of my moods for weeks at a time and jes’ stop writin' anything?”
You see, that was a time when this old fellow you're listenin' to had important work to do. There was grants that had to be written and arts that needed to be administrated. That was before the Council of Overlords passed the Oxygen Tax on Breathing, givin’ us a dedicated funding source for all the artistic and cultural stuff you now enjoy for free. Nowadays, if you’re born a Creative, you get all kinds of special mollycoddling, and you live the life of Goldman Sachs, looking down on regular people from atop your highrise units over at the South Waterfront Protective Compound. Back then, we was underappreciated and never got squat from nobody.
These days, things are good as pudding for artists, that’s for sure. I still regret that we couldn’t stop the robots from replacing human actors though. That was the one battle in the Great Culture War we lost. I gotta admit, after that happened, theater got more … what’s the word? … consistent. But we still have the ballet!
Anyways … where’d that martini shaker git to? Pass it over here quick, ‘cause I’m starting to feel parched with all this story-tellin’. Ahh, now that’s what I call a pleasing refreshment!
As I was saying, it took a bit of jawing, but Culture Jock finally convinced me to give it a go. “Don’t worry about writing posts on any kind of reg’lar schedule,” he said, “Nobody ever keeps up with blogging! Shoot, most bloggers give up once they realize nobody out there gives a hoot what they got to say.”
I guess that must have convinced me 'cause the next thing you know, I done posted something! My very first blog post. Jes’ like that, I was on the Internet Highway plying my trade as a gol’darned blogger by the handle of Mighty Toy Cannon.
By the end of that very first year of blogging, I had published 168 posts on Culture Shock, not to mention another 42 on a darn site of my very own, Mighty Toy Cannon (which I named after myself on account of it was all mine). I was as hot as a meth house on fire with a basement filled with kerosene! I could scarcely believe how much time I was wasting writin’ up some of that crazy stuff most every night. Lookin’ for the pictures to go with every post was half the fun! Lord knows, I was pleased to use that word “published” all the time, ‘cause it sounded so awfully important and all.
Those were good times back then. We was all posting things left and right and willy-nilly. Sometimes we got all serious and grim about topics, especially when some politician was actin’ bat-shit crazy. Some called us high-and-mighty and smug, on account of us tellin’ folks how things ought to be. You woulda thought we were in charge of the world! And you know what? We shoulda been, dammit!
Other times, we was jes’ a bunch of cut-ups, jokin’ around, trying to make people laugh and forget their troubles. We was bustin' people up like they was chifferobes! Lord knows, them was troubled times back then. People wanted a good laugh and we gave them what they needed!
I know, I know. Truth be told, we didn’t have a clue in heaven what our Followers wanted or liked. Most times they just read things and kept real quiet, like hidin' in the woods from a grizzly bear when your hands is full of fish heads dipped in honey. When that happens, you try not to jerk fast so as not to be noticed any more than you already are. But we knew they were there.
We always figured our brilliant writing had them readers cowed. That’s right, I said it, they was cowed by our extraordinary show of intellect. Every darn one of them readers wanted to comment, you know they did. But did they? No! They was scared to say nothin’ on account of we set the bar so goddamned high! I know it’s a grievous sin to be prideful, and I expect I’m gonna burn in hellfire and all, but it’s gotta be said before everyone forgets what it was like back then!
No, I’m not cryin’ sonny boy; I just got a piece of dust up in my eyeball. Which one is you anyway? Little Baby Cannon the Third? That’s sweet. Now why don’t you just get me a little more ice while you’re up and about. Might as well pass that bottle over too. That’s a good boy.
Now where was I? Oh, sure there was some posts I’d just as soon forget. Some of them still sneak up and haunt me now and again, makin’ me wonder what the heck I was thinking. But, other posts still make me kind of prideful to this very day, I have to admit in all modesty.
Pretty soon, me and my Culture Shock pals were startin’ to draw a little attention to ourselves. People were even admittin’ in public that they were Followers. Every now and then, other respectable folks would notice and comment about the crazy things we wrote.
You want to know who? Well, for example, people like those brainy guys at Art Scatter. They said a thing or two now and then.
You don’t know who I’m talking about? Well they were those fellows what won the Pulitzer Prize for Excellence in Cultural Blogging ‘round about 2022, the year Culture Shock was disqualified due to the Incident.
Yeah, that’s right-- they're the folks whose heads are on display down at the old Memorial Coliseum Museum and Fun Time Center. Why that Barry Johnson fellow was the last journalist left at the Oregonian when it was finally sold to the owner of the Pyongyang Gazette. Barry once wrote that one of my book reviews was the “best book review of the year” back in '09. Now I’ll grant you he wrote that after the year was but a week or two old, but it sure was a nice thing to say and he didn't have to go doing that.
Now quit all that wiggling or you’re gonna knock over my beverage and there’ll be hell to pay! I’ll be done soon enough and you can go back to gathering up sticks and twigs.
Pretty soon, more people knew me as Mighty Toy Cannon than by the name my folks bestowed on me at my birth. They was callin’ me things like “MTC” and “Toy Cannon.” Sometimes they’d mash it all up together as “mightytoycannon” and sometimes I'd called myself “MTCannon.” I’d be walking down the street and people would shout, “Yo! It’s the Cannon!” and give me the thumbs-up (when people still had thumbs), and they’d say, “I liked that post you posted!” I’d tip my hat and go on my way, holding my chin up a little bit prouder.
Well I tell you, that first year of blogging was something else. Some credit my series of "Election Countdown" music video posts in October of that year for having put Barack Obama over the top in that final election. Others say we were doling out hope at a time when hope and a million shares of General Motors wasn't enough to buy you a shot of Stumptown coffee.
Now quit all that wiggling or you’re gonna knock over my beverage and there’ll be hell to pay! I’ll be done soon enough and you can go back to gathering up sticks and twigs.
Pretty soon, more people knew me as Mighty Toy Cannon than by the name my folks bestowed on me at my birth. They was callin’ me things like “MTC” and “Toy Cannon.” Sometimes they’d mash it all up together as “mightytoycannon” and sometimes I'd called myself “MTCannon.” I’d be walking down the street and people would shout, “Yo! It’s the Cannon!” and give me the thumbs-up (when people still had thumbs), and they’d say, “I liked that post you posted!” I’d tip my hat and go on my way, holding my chin up a little bit prouder.
Well I tell you, that first year of blogging was something else. Some credit my series of "Election Countdown" music video posts in October of that year for having put Barack Obama over the top in that final election. Others say we were doling out hope at a time when hope and a million shares of General Motors wasn't enough to buy you a shot of Stumptown coffee.
I still have a hard time believing how quickly that first anniversary came around. You know what’s ironic? The traditional gift for a first anniversary used to be paper! You kids don’t even know what paper is, do you? That goes to show you something.
Shoot, at times that year seems to have flown by just about as fast as it took for Major League Soccer to fail in Portland! Other times, I remember it going as slow as being stuck in a hovercar on the 48-lane Nike River Crossing and Cyclocross Bridge to Vancouver before the Great Reckoning severed our relationship with our northerly neighbors.
You want to know what happened after that first year of blogging at Culture Shock?
Shoot, at times that year seems to have flown by just about as fast as it took for Major League Soccer to fail in Portland! Other times, I remember it going as slow as being stuck in a hovercar on the 48-lane Nike River Crossing and Cyclocross Bridge to Vancouver before the Great Reckoning severed our relationship with our northerly neighbors.
You want to know what happened after that first year of blogging at Culture Shock?
Well, we’ll just have to save that for another time. I’m startin’ to think this glass isn’t going to fill itself. Skedaddle you little muskrats! Give this old man some time to think his thoughts by hisself.
Memorial Coliseum is about more than Architectural Preservation
I understand if you're fatigued by the Memorial Coliseum story. Perhaps you're one of the many who think it's an ugly, obsolete behemoth that threatens to stifle progress and waste taxpayer dollars. In the end, this post isn't about that story, though it was triggered by it. It's really about who's running the show in this goddamned town, and who's reporting the story.
The front page of Monday’s Oregonian was splashed with two beautiful photographs of Memorial Coliseum (exterior and interior), accompanying a hatchet job of a story about the building’s financial viability. A smidgeon of snideness crept into a headline that read, “Save Portland’s Memorial Coliseum, but for what?”
The O’s editorial position has been staunchly anti-Coliseum from the get-go, parroting the talking points of the proponents of its demolition, and implying that the only folks who want to preserve the building are a few elitist architects with their heads up their asses. On Monday morning, that editorial posture crept onto the front page--or was journalistic laziness to blame?
Asking questions about how Memorial Coliseum will be managed and to what purpose is a legitimate exercise. That’s a task Portland’s mainstream newspaper ought to take seriously. Instead, the paper ran a half-baked recap of talking points with faulty and incomplete analysis. Is editorial bias intruding on journalistic independence, or is this what happens when a newspaper’s resources are stripped bare, leaving no capacity for real investigative reporting?
In her front page article, Helen Jung writes, “The Save Memorial Coliseum campaign, spearheaded by a few architects passionate about the arena, worked.” (Note the emphasis on a "few architects").
Let me turn that statement on its head: “The Raze Memorial Coliseum campaign, spearheaded by a few private sector developers and rich sports team owners passionate about making money, worked.” Is that what you would rather be reading? Because it came close to that and still might.
Jung takes as an article of faith the argument that nobody knows how to manage the Coliseum successfully: “Architects who love Memorial Coliseum would show you the massive glass walls that allow natural light to stream into the seating bowl. They would show you the clever engineering of the roof -- the size of four city blocks -- resting on just four concrete pillars. But it's a little bit harder for them to show the outlines of a good business when looking at the 49-year-old coliseum's financial bones.”
The article states that Memorial Coliseum “has struggled for more than a decade to just break even.” The print version includes a bar chart to support that argument. Unfortunately, it appears to do just the opposite: Over the six year period reported, the chart shows that the City of Portland received close to $2.8 million in revenue from parking and user fees while spending just under $2.4 million running the garage and making some capital improvements. That’s a net gain of $400k (14%) over that period. (Under the management deal for the venue, the Blazers collect all other revenue, such as rentals and concessions, pay the Coliseum’s operating costs, and then split any remaining profit with the city).
Sure, the chart shows that the city has “lost” money over the most recent three years; but that is because it spent money on capital improvements in those years. If there were surpluses from previous years, doesn’t it make business sense to reinvest them in improvements and deferred maintenance? What happened to those surpluses anyway? The article doesn’t explore that question, nor does it report on what the Blazers earned or lost by operating the facility. (A year or two ago, a brief report said that the Blazers broke even operating the venue after years of losing money).
The article correctly notes that “the coliseum needs millions of dollars in fixes, from overhauling its half-century-old electrical system to replacing the roof. Its egalitarian seating arrangement, with no luxury boxes or club seats, makes the coliseum feel more like a high school gym than a venue out to make a profit.”
Why doesn't the article mention that the Blazers recently invested $13 million to upgrade the Rose Garden Arena after less than a decade of use? What makes that a legitimate investment, while maintaining Memorial Coliseum is portrayed as pouring money down a rat hole? By the way, $13 million is exactly what a 2002 study said would need to be invested in upgrades to the Coliseum.
The article briefly describes the management deal struck between the City of Portland and the Blazers. It mentions the “Portland Arena Management” as the Blazers's sister company responsible for managing the venues. It does not mention that Portland Arena Management signed a five year deal with AEG Facilities a few years ago to run the Rose Quarter. It doesn’t mention that Los Angeles-based AEG Facilities is a huge entertainment and venue management conglomerate with a world wide base of operations. (You might call AEG the Halliburton of sports and entertainment management). When the Blazers signed the deal in 2007, its chief operating officer at the time, Mike Golub, described AEG as “the fastest-growing facility management group and one of the most dynamic sports and entertainment companies in the world." Oh boy!
Reports in the Oregonian and other media outlets at the time read like they were transcribed from the Blazers/AEG press release. “The AEG team wants to attract a Rose Garden naming rights partner, coax more development of the Rose Quarter campus, add new events and generate more revenue for Vulcan Ventures, which owns the arena for Blazers owner Paul Allen.” AEG is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Anschutz Company, a sports entertainment outfit that operates the Staples Center in Los Angeles and many other venues and sports teams around the world. Part of its reputation is its ability to sell naming rights for venues, and its development of entertainment centers such as “L.A. Live” – a $2.5 billion district of residences, offices, hotel rooms and event venues which Blazers execs reportedly cite as a model for developing the Rose Quarter.
According to reports, AEG ranks as the nation's second-largest concert promoter behind Live Nation. That's what business folks call "integrated" but you may know it better as a "monopoly." They control the product, the content and the delivery systems. I thought it was interesting that my search of Oregon Live and the Oregonian's archives (thank you Multnomah County Libraries) turned up no further mention of AEG since the 2007 article about the Blazers handing over venue management.
The Blazers are now talking with another mega-developer, the Cordish Co., about creating the entertainment district, so it's not clear what AEG's role is in all this. What seems beyond dispute is that the Blazers and Paul Allen's Vulcan Ventures have been hankering for better profits and that Memorial Coliseum is sitting there as a huge obstacle. The connections between AEG, Cordish and Vulcan certainly make discussions about the proposed “entertainment district” more interesting. I won't be surprised if I learn that the Convention Center hotel project, for which Mayor Sam Adams has a powerful itch, gets integrated into this whole development deal. And here's another interesting connection: Mike Golub either quit or was fired by Vulcan recently, and reports are that Merritt Paulson wants to hire him as general manager for that new Major League Soccer team Portland is getting. It is a Small World after all!
As long as we're constructing a house of cards, when AEG took over management of the Rose Quarter, it was reported to have a “strong interest in developing and managing a 2,500-seat arena" on the site. At that seating capacity, such a venue would compete directly with the Schnitzer Auditorium (2,800 seats) and Keller Auditorium (3,000 seats) for commercial concerts, sucking away some of the revenue potential for those venues and destabilizing their financial underpinnings. Guess who gets hurt if that happens? The nonprofit performing companies that use those city-owned facilities at reduced rates thanks to commercial rentals that offset operating costs, that's who. Top on that list are the Oregon Symphony, the Oregon Ballet and the Portland Opera, all of which are struggling under current economic conditions. Oy!
So here's what has me riled up: This is all starting to feel Bush league. By that, I mean it's looking like the kind of private sector deal-making that we saw flourishing over the past eight years.
It's Enron and Halliburton rolled together into one flaming clusterf**k.
It's a strategy of belittling and marginalizing opponents, treating them as if they're idiots for not understanding the complexities of the deal.
It's the media rolling over and reporting from press releases and talking points rather than doing its investigative job.
It's spreadsheets with variables jiggered so that the future looks rosy and risk free until it all turns to shit and then what's the next brilliant plan?
It's rich fat cats sucking at the public teat while pocketing all the upside of the deal and walking away from the risks.
It's elected officials wanting to appear decisive and action-oriented, hellbent on creating a legacy greater than scandal.
It's about whatever happened to Portland being a town that knows how to plan?
Okay, I’m not a reporter and I have other work to do and many miles to go before I sleep. All of my investigation of this post was done on a laptop while watching the season finale of "House." If I got facts wrong, tell me and I'll fix them. I'll try to add links and give proper citations later. I didn't even take the time to add a photo to brighten things up.
Go read Bob Hick’s excellent analysis of this story at Art Scatter, which he's titled,"Memorial Coliseum: The Empire Strikes Back." It's brilliant and passionate, and Bob is more articulate about it. I particularly like the questions he raises about the place of profit in managing public facilities that were built for the public good.
The front page of Monday’s Oregonian was splashed with two beautiful photographs of Memorial Coliseum (exterior and interior), accompanying a hatchet job of a story about the building’s financial viability. A smidgeon of snideness crept into a headline that read, “Save Portland’s Memorial Coliseum, but for what?”
The O’s editorial position has been staunchly anti-Coliseum from the get-go, parroting the talking points of the proponents of its demolition, and implying that the only folks who want to preserve the building are a few elitist architects with their heads up their asses. On Monday morning, that editorial posture crept onto the front page--or was journalistic laziness to blame?
Asking questions about how Memorial Coliseum will be managed and to what purpose is a legitimate exercise. That’s a task Portland’s mainstream newspaper ought to take seriously. Instead, the paper ran a half-baked recap of talking points with faulty and incomplete analysis. Is editorial bias intruding on journalistic independence, or is this what happens when a newspaper’s resources are stripped bare, leaving no capacity for real investigative reporting?
In her front page article, Helen Jung writes, “The Save Memorial Coliseum campaign, spearheaded by a few architects passionate about the arena, worked.” (Note the emphasis on a "few architects").
Let me turn that statement on its head: “The Raze Memorial Coliseum campaign, spearheaded by a few private sector developers and rich sports team owners passionate about making money, worked.” Is that what you would rather be reading? Because it came close to that and still might.
Jung takes as an article of faith the argument that nobody knows how to manage the Coliseum successfully: “Architects who love Memorial Coliseum would show you the massive glass walls that allow natural light to stream into the seating bowl. They would show you the clever engineering of the roof -- the size of four city blocks -- resting on just four concrete pillars. But it's a little bit harder for them to show the outlines of a good business when looking at the 49-year-old coliseum's financial bones.”
The article states that Memorial Coliseum “has struggled for more than a decade to just break even.” The print version includes a bar chart to support that argument. Unfortunately, it appears to do just the opposite: Over the six year period reported, the chart shows that the City of Portland received close to $2.8 million in revenue from parking and user fees while spending just under $2.4 million running the garage and making some capital improvements. That’s a net gain of $400k (14%) over that period. (Under the management deal for the venue, the Blazers collect all other revenue, such as rentals and concessions, pay the Coliseum’s operating costs, and then split any remaining profit with the city).
Sure, the chart shows that the city has “lost” money over the most recent three years; but that is because it spent money on capital improvements in those years. If there were surpluses from previous years, doesn’t it make business sense to reinvest them in improvements and deferred maintenance? What happened to those surpluses anyway? The article doesn’t explore that question, nor does it report on what the Blazers earned or lost by operating the facility. (A year or two ago, a brief report said that the Blazers broke even operating the venue after years of losing money).
The article correctly notes that “the coliseum needs millions of dollars in fixes, from overhauling its half-century-old electrical system to replacing the roof. Its egalitarian seating arrangement, with no luxury boxes or club seats, makes the coliseum feel more like a high school gym than a venue out to make a profit.”
Why doesn't the article mention that the Blazers recently invested $13 million to upgrade the Rose Garden Arena after less than a decade of use? What makes that a legitimate investment, while maintaining Memorial Coliseum is portrayed as pouring money down a rat hole? By the way, $13 million is exactly what a 2002 study said would need to be invested in upgrades to the Coliseum.
The article briefly describes the management deal struck between the City of Portland and the Blazers. It mentions the “Portland Arena Management” as the Blazers's sister company responsible for managing the venues. It does not mention that Portland Arena Management signed a five year deal with AEG Facilities a few years ago to run the Rose Quarter. It doesn’t mention that Los Angeles-based AEG Facilities is a huge entertainment and venue management conglomerate with a world wide base of operations. (You might call AEG the Halliburton of sports and entertainment management). When the Blazers signed the deal in 2007, its chief operating officer at the time, Mike Golub, described AEG as “the fastest-growing facility management group and one of the most dynamic sports and entertainment companies in the world." Oh boy!
Reports in the Oregonian and other media outlets at the time read like they were transcribed from the Blazers/AEG press release. “The AEG team wants to attract a Rose Garden naming rights partner, coax more development of the Rose Quarter campus, add new events and generate more revenue for Vulcan Ventures, which owns the arena for Blazers owner Paul Allen.” AEG is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Anschutz Company, a sports entertainment outfit that operates the Staples Center in Los Angeles and many other venues and sports teams around the world. Part of its reputation is its ability to sell naming rights for venues, and its development of entertainment centers such as “L.A. Live” – a $2.5 billion district of residences, offices, hotel rooms and event venues which Blazers execs reportedly cite as a model for developing the Rose Quarter.
According to reports, AEG ranks as the nation's second-largest concert promoter behind Live Nation. That's what business folks call "integrated" but you may know it better as a "monopoly." They control the product, the content and the delivery systems. I thought it was interesting that my search of Oregon Live and the Oregonian's archives (thank you Multnomah County Libraries) turned up no further mention of AEG since the 2007 article about the Blazers handing over venue management.
The Blazers are now talking with another mega-developer, the Cordish Co., about creating the entertainment district, so it's not clear what AEG's role is in all this. What seems beyond dispute is that the Blazers and Paul Allen's Vulcan Ventures have been hankering for better profits and that Memorial Coliseum is sitting there as a huge obstacle. The connections between AEG, Cordish and Vulcan certainly make discussions about the proposed “entertainment district” more interesting. I won't be surprised if I learn that the Convention Center hotel project, for which Mayor Sam Adams has a powerful itch, gets integrated into this whole development deal. And here's another interesting connection: Mike Golub either quit or was fired by Vulcan recently, and reports are that Merritt Paulson wants to hire him as general manager for that new Major League Soccer team Portland is getting. It is a Small World after all!
As long as we're constructing a house of cards, when AEG took over management of the Rose Quarter, it was reported to have a “strong interest in developing and managing a 2,500-seat arena" on the site. At that seating capacity, such a venue would compete directly with the Schnitzer Auditorium (2,800 seats) and Keller Auditorium (3,000 seats) for commercial concerts, sucking away some of the revenue potential for those venues and destabilizing their financial underpinnings. Guess who gets hurt if that happens? The nonprofit performing companies that use those city-owned facilities at reduced rates thanks to commercial rentals that offset operating costs, that's who. Top on that list are the Oregon Symphony, the Oregon Ballet and the Portland Opera, all of which are struggling under current economic conditions. Oy!
So here's what has me riled up: This is all starting to feel Bush league. By that, I mean it's looking like the kind of private sector deal-making that we saw flourishing over the past eight years.
It's Enron and Halliburton rolled together into one flaming clusterf**k.
It's a strategy of belittling and marginalizing opponents, treating them as if they're idiots for not understanding the complexities of the deal.
It's the media rolling over and reporting from press releases and talking points rather than doing its investigative job.
It's spreadsheets with variables jiggered so that the future looks rosy and risk free until it all turns to shit and then what's the next brilliant plan?
It's rich fat cats sucking at the public teat while pocketing all the upside of the deal and walking away from the risks.
It's elected officials wanting to appear decisive and action-oriented, hellbent on creating a legacy greater than scandal.
It's about whatever happened to Portland being a town that knows how to plan?
Okay, I’m not a reporter and I have other work to do and many miles to go before I sleep. All of my investigation of this post was done on a laptop while watching the season finale of "House." If I got facts wrong, tell me and I'll fix them. I'll try to add links and give proper citations later. I didn't even take the time to add a photo to brighten things up.
Go read Bob Hick’s excellent analysis of this story at Art Scatter, which he's titled,"Memorial Coliseum: The Empire Strikes Back." It's brilliant and passionate, and Bob is more articulate about it. I particularly like the questions he raises about the place of profit in managing public facilities that were built for the public good.
Gnawing away the thrones.
Over lunch yesterday, I wandered over to the Gerding (“The Bob”) to eavesdrop on a round table discussion titled “Stone Soup: Engaging Culture, the Arts & Civic Collaboration.”
The guest of honor was Barbara Schaffer Bacon, co-director of the Americans for the Arts project, “Animating Democracy.” Here’s what that’s all about:
Several guests contributed to a conversation about using the arts as a tool to generate dialogue on pressing community issues, both chronic and acute. These are projects such as Sojourn Theatre’s “Witness our Schools," a groundbreaking examination of values related to public education in Oregon. The discussion also touched on a Sojourn project, “Common Threads” in Lima, Ohio, as well as Portland’s “Restorative Listening Project” which addressed issues of gentrification in North Portland. The facilitator of the latter project, Judith Mowry from the Office of Neighborhood Involvement, was introduced warmly as “The Listening Lady.” She pointed our way to the Oregonian’s excellent coverage of that project by Erin Hoover Barnett and an online multimedia story that grew out of it – a nice example of how a traditional newspaper can effectively use technology to tell a story.
Culture Shock founder and contributor Culture Jock contributed to the discussion. Of course, he was equal parts pith and eloquence, with a dash of debonair. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a notepad, so can’t report on what he said other than making the smart point that some people grow frustrated with too much of the yakety-yak that doesn't lead to solutions.
Instead of more "dialoguing" (to use a particularly heinous term) on this topic, here’s a poem in honor of the last day of “National Poetry Month.” Written by American poet Nicholas Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931), I like to think of it as an ode to community organizers.
Here’s to the Mice!
Here’s to the mice that scare the lions,
Creeping into their cages.
Here’s to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here’s to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here’s to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here’s to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain’s groans.
Here’s to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
The guest of honor was Barbara Schaffer Bacon, co-director of the Americans for the Arts project, “Animating Democracy.” Here’s what that’s all about:
Animating Democracy fosters arts and cultural activity that encourages and enhances civic engagement and dialogue. It is based on the premise that democracy is animated when an informed public is engaged in the issues affecting people’s daily lives. The arts and humanities can contribute unique programs, settings, and creative approaches that reach new and diverse participants, stimulate public dialogue about civic issues, and inspire action to make change.
Several guests contributed to a conversation about using the arts as a tool to generate dialogue on pressing community issues, both chronic and acute. These are projects such as Sojourn Theatre’s “Witness our Schools," a groundbreaking examination of values related to public education in Oregon. The discussion also touched on a Sojourn project, “Common Threads” in Lima, Ohio, as well as Portland’s “Restorative Listening Project” which addressed issues of gentrification in North Portland. The facilitator of the latter project, Judith Mowry from the Office of Neighborhood Involvement, was introduced warmly as “The Listening Lady.” She pointed our way to the Oregonian’s excellent coverage of that project by Erin Hoover Barnett and an online multimedia story that grew out of it – a nice example of how a traditional newspaper can effectively use technology to tell a story.
Culture Shock founder and contributor Culture Jock contributed to the discussion. Of course, he was equal parts pith and eloquence, with a dash of debonair. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a notepad, so can’t report on what he said other than making the smart point that some people grow frustrated with too much of the yakety-yak that doesn't lead to solutions.
Instead of more "dialoguing" (to use a particularly heinous term) on this topic, here’s a poem in honor of the last day of “National Poetry Month.” Written by American poet Nicholas Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931), I like to think of it as an ode to community organizers.
Here’s to the Mice!
Here’s to the mice that scare the lions,
Creeping into their cages.
Here’s to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here’s to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here’s to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here’s to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain’s groans.
Here’s to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
New General Manager at White Bird
This morning, while dropping in on Portland Art Watch, we learned that White Bird has hired its first General Manager. The PAW report includes a link to a longer Oregonian article from Grant Butler. As noted by the Oregonian, the selection of Phil Busse, former Portland Mercury managing editor with a "checkered history in Portland" is sure to stir up some controversy. That and the fact that Busse isn't bringing years of arts administration and fundraising experience to the job. I can only imagine what they'll be saying over at Blogtown about this.Since Paul King and Walter Jaffe launched White Bird in 1997, the organization's staff has grown commensurate with the scope of its programming and audience. All that time, Mr. King and Mr. Jaffe have not only been White Bird's visionaries, community ambassadors and chief curators, they have been enmeshed in the day-to-day business of running an arts business. (All without pay, I might add). Over the eleven performances of anoukvandijk dc's STAU at Oaks Park last month, the pair were even called to duty as stage crew, wrangling seats and risers out of the way for the second half of each performance. It was inevitable that they would need professional management help, and the Murdock Trust was generous enough to grant them three years of funding to underwrite the addition of a full-time General Manager.
Grant Butler quotes Jaffe's comments about the prospect of controversy: "It's obviously not someone you expect since he's not been directly involved with the arts. But there's a level of managerial experience that we needed, and he came to us with some very good ideas. We were impressed with the seriousness of his approach. He has been a controversial figure, but we managed to get beyond that."
Over a dozen years, White Bird's founders have made many bold decisions in their program choices. (I particularly enjoyed watching audience members leaving in the middle of Compagnie Maguy Marin's incredible performance at the Schnitzer several years ago). Their decision to transform the White Bird/PSU series to "White Bird Uncaged" with the temporary closure of Lincoln Hall took some guts and fortitude. Perhaps in these times, a bold choice in management is preferable to a safe choice. And, it is probably smart that the first person to fill a role that will work very very close to the company's founders is not going to be a milquetoast administrator, but someone with ideas. We wish them luck.
Literary Award Announced!
This morning, while catching up on delinquent blog reading, I was delighted and honored to learn that I won a prestigious literary award last week. PDX Writer Daily is a site I’ve been visiting since discovering that Culture Shock had been added to its blog roll. A product of the PSU Writing Center, the site bills itself as “News and information for writers in Portland Oregon.” I figure that qualifies Culture Shock as a literary resource, and you’re welcome.
Last week, PDX Writer Daily challenged its readers to create haikus inspired by the Snuggie™, noting that “all the best inventions have haikus written in their honor.” I know you’ve seen the television commercials for this revolutionary product: the fleece blanket with sleeves. You may have been tempted to order one, but couldn’t decide on the right color (it’s made in a patriotic spectrum of red, white or blue).
I’ve been unable to resist a haiku contest ever since the Oregonian published one of my three line creations in “The Edge” over a decade ago. (I don’t remember the topic except that it included reference to Mayor Katz). With this new challenge, I unrolled a length of rice paper, inked up my calligraphy brush and reached into my deep spring of inspiration to come up with four little poems:
Last week, PDX Writer Daily challenged its readers to create haikus inspired by the Snuggie™, noting that “all the best inventions have haikus written in their honor.” I know you’ve seen the television commercials for this revolutionary product: the fleece blanket with sleeves. You may have been tempted to order one, but couldn’t decide on the right color (it’s made in a patriotic spectrum of red, white or blue).
I’ve been unable to resist a haiku contest ever since the Oregonian published one of my three line creations in “The Edge” over a decade ago. (I don’t remember the topic except that it included reference to Mayor Katz). With this new challenge, I unrolled a length of rice paper, inked up my calligraphy brush and reached into my deep spring of inspiration to come up with four little poems:Wrapped by snug fleece gown,
Raptly watching blue screen glow.
In winter rapture.
A blanket with sleeves.
Not to be worn on first dates
Or to the opera.
Raptly watching blue screen glow.
In winter rapture.
A blanket with sleeves.
Not to be worn on first dates
Or to the opera.
Call it what you may:
Sleeved quilt or coverlet.
It is thy death shroud.
My backside is cold,
But my two hands are as free
As a soaring hawk
Of course I was chagrined to have placed only third in the competition (for the last poem on the above list). My disappointment deepened when I calculated that I had submitted nearly two-thirds of the total contest entries, so the odds were in my favor. (Plus the pity factor).
You’ll have to visit PDX Writer Daily to read the other “winning” entries, which may adhere to the haiku’s standard metrical pattern, but lack either kigo (seasonal reference) or kireji (a verbal caesura). I’m just saying.
Perhaps Culture Shock readers can do better.
Weekend Divertissements
This started out to be an abbreviated post--a space-filler and a diversion from Culture Shock's recent immersion in serious matters of arts advocacy and cultural policy. It was going to be a post about Jerry Lewis. Then my mind wandered.
As previously announced, the Mighty Toy Cannon household has given up its regular subscription to the New York Times. Fortunately, the Grey Lady has adopted a sure-fire business strategy based on one simple principle: If the customer is no longer buying your product, give it away for free!
(Perhaps the auto industry should consider a similar approach: Instead of selling vehicles, GM could park cars all over town and let people use them anytime they want. The industry could "monetize" this business model by selling banner ads that run on a little screen mounted on the dashboard.)
Thanks to the publisher's generosity, not only did I enjoy the Times over coffee on Saturday morning, but I was able to read an article that did not appear in the pulp and fiber version until Sunday. Let's examine the NY Times approach more closely: (1) Give away your content; and (2) Give away the free version before it gets to the people who are paying for it.
What I like about the NY Times online is that it's easy to navigate (unlike OregonLive) and isn't slathered with banner and pop-up ads. So there's a third critical element in the business model: (3) Minimize online ads as much as possible. Recipe for financial ruin? Or a cunning strategy beyond our ken?
The media industry is madly trying to figure out how to survive and adapt to changing times. (This morning's news included a report that the Philadelphia Inquirer has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection). In a recent Time Magazine cover story, “How to Save Your Newspaper,” Walter Isaacson (a former managing editor of Time magazine) argues that the advertising-supported model of online journalism is flawed; not only is it failing financially, but it makes publications beholden to advertisers. He hopes new approaches to paying for online content will ensure that news organizations get paid for the journalism they create, perhaps through micropayment mechanisms. Jon Stewart recently interviewed Isaacson on the Daily Show. (I had originally embedded a video of that interview on this post, but it had a ton of HTML code that made me nervous so you'll have to follow the link instead).
The NY Times media critic, David Carr, makes essentially the same case in an article, “Let’s Invent an iTunes for News,” though without delving very deeply into how that might happen. (Side note: If you're a fan of grim, unflinching memoirs by former junkies, Carr's "Night of the Gun" is a fascinating confessional and journalistic exercise).
My inner-optimist thinks (hopes) that we'll emerge from the global economic meltdown stronger and smarter, including finding new ways to communicate and share information. That may require us to figure out how to pay for journalism and other online content. Would you be willing to pay to read online articles (or even blog posts) by making "micropayments" for each story? What about the monthly or annual subscription model?
I don't want to have to make an economic decision each time I open a link to an article (even if each choice was a matter of pennies). Nor do I want to sign up for multiple subscriptions to get the variety of content to which I've grown accustomed. On the other hand, I might be willing to pay a small surcharge on top of my monthly internet charges if the proceeds were distributed equitably to content creators. The algorithms for calculating what's fair would be complicated and subject to debate, but I presume the technology for tracking usage is not an issue. (As Isaacson points out, the original concept of the hyperlink was that it would work as a tool for tracking content usage and to allocate micropayments).
Realizing that I've waded into complex policy territory that I barely understand, let's get back to Jerry Lewis, who just received one of those honorary Academy Awards. This post was prompted by a story by NY Times film critic, Manohla Dargi ("Hey Laaaady!"), in which she calls the movie, CinderFella “an astonishment” and describes the “knockout musical number” in which Lewis (as Fella) dances down a long staircase.
Though Dargis provides a lively and detailed description of the scene, I wasn't satisfied until I could see it with my own eyes. Thanks to the miracle of the internets, I jumped over to YouTube and found the scene. Since Culture Shock, unlike the NY Times, doesn’t have a legal department to advise us on intellectual property and copyright rules, I can post it here for your enjoyment and edification:
Lewis’s frantic, goofy solo reminded me of Steve Martin doing a happy dance on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t find a copy of that scene (SNL is diligent about scrubbing the internet of copyrighted material), so I wandered around and was soon watching videos of Christopher Walken dancing , and then an excerpt of Eddie Izzard doing a Christopher Walken imitation, then back to Jerry Lewis (in his alter ego/Buddy Love persona), then to Andy Kaufman (in his alter ego mode) ... and then ... and then my Saturday morning was over and it was time for a fresh cup of coffee.
As previously announced, the Mighty Toy Cannon household has given up its regular subscription to the New York Times. Fortunately, the Grey Lady has adopted a sure-fire business strategy based on one simple principle: If the customer is no longer buying your product, give it away for free!
(Perhaps the auto industry should consider a similar approach: Instead of selling vehicles, GM could park cars all over town and let people use them anytime they want. The industry could "monetize" this business model by selling banner ads that run on a little screen mounted on the dashboard.)
Thanks to the publisher's generosity, not only did I enjoy the Times over coffee on Saturday morning, but I was able to read an article that did not appear in the pulp and fiber version until Sunday. Let's examine the NY Times approach more closely: (1) Give away your content; and (2) Give away the free version before it gets to the people who are paying for it.
What I like about the NY Times online is that it's easy to navigate (unlike OregonLive) and isn't slathered with banner and pop-up ads. So there's a third critical element in the business model: (3) Minimize online ads as much as possible. Recipe for financial ruin? Or a cunning strategy beyond our ken?
The media industry is madly trying to figure out how to survive and adapt to changing times. (This morning's news included a report that the Philadelphia Inquirer has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection). In a recent Time Magazine cover story, “How to Save Your Newspaper,” Walter Isaacson (a former managing editor of Time magazine) argues that the advertising-supported model of online journalism is flawed; not only is it failing financially, but it makes publications beholden to advertisers. He hopes new approaches to paying for online content will ensure that news organizations get paid for the journalism they create, perhaps through micropayment mechanisms. Jon Stewart recently interviewed Isaacson on the Daily Show. (I had originally embedded a video of that interview on this post, but it had a ton of HTML code that made me nervous so you'll have to follow the link instead).
The NY Times media critic, David Carr, makes essentially the same case in an article, “Let’s Invent an iTunes for News,” though without delving very deeply into how that might happen. (Side note: If you're a fan of grim, unflinching memoirs by former junkies, Carr's "Night of the Gun" is a fascinating confessional and journalistic exercise).
My inner-optimist thinks (hopes) that we'll emerge from the global economic meltdown stronger and smarter, including finding new ways to communicate and share information. That may require us to figure out how to pay for journalism and other online content. Would you be willing to pay to read online articles (or even blog posts) by making "micropayments" for each story? What about the monthly or annual subscription model?
I don't want to have to make an economic decision each time I open a link to an article (even if each choice was a matter of pennies). Nor do I want to sign up for multiple subscriptions to get the variety of content to which I've grown accustomed. On the other hand, I might be willing to pay a small surcharge on top of my monthly internet charges if the proceeds were distributed equitably to content creators. The algorithms for calculating what's fair would be complicated and subject to debate, but I presume the technology for tracking usage is not an issue. (As Isaacson points out, the original concept of the hyperlink was that it would work as a tool for tracking content usage and to allocate micropayments).
Realizing that I've waded into complex policy territory that I barely understand, let's get back to Jerry Lewis, who just received one of those honorary Academy Awards. This post was prompted by a story by NY Times film critic, Manohla Dargi ("Hey Laaaady!"), in which she calls the movie, CinderFella “an astonishment” and describes the “knockout musical number” in which Lewis (as Fella) dances down a long staircase.
By the time he makes his way to the understandably stunned-looking princess (Anna Maria Alberghetti), Fella has captivated the entire ballroom. He awkwardly takes the princess’s hand, and the two begin to move harmoniously around the white polished floor. They separate, then join together, hitting the floor in synchronous, jazzy motion until Fella suddenly motions for her to stand still. And then, as the horns keep blasting and blaring, he begins jumping around her, drawing circles with his hands while his legs turn into airborne right angles. It’s a ridiculous expression of pure kinetic energy and — as is often the case with this performer — a blast of untamed, untamable libido that threatens to destroy the carefully controlled gathering like a bomb.
Though Dargis provides a lively and detailed description of the scene, I wasn't satisfied until I could see it with my own eyes. Thanks to the miracle of the internets, I jumped over to YouTube and found the scene. Since Culture Shock, unlike the NY Times, doesn’t have a legal department to advise us on intellectual property and copyright rules, I can post it here for your enjoyment and edification:
Lewis’s frantic, goofy solo reminded me of Steve Martin doing a happy dance on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t find a copy of that scene (SNL is diligent about scrubbing the internet of copyrighted material), so I wandered around and was soon watching videos of Christopher Walken dancing , and then an excerpt of Eddie Izzard doing a Christopher Walken imitation, then back to Jerry Lewis (in his alter ego/Buddy Love persona), then to Andy Kaufman (in his alter ego mode) ... and then ... and then my Saturday morning was over and it was time for a fresh cup of coffee.
Art Scatter Scattered
We trust that most readers of Culture Shock also mosey over to Art Scatter to partake in that site's cultural cerebrations. If not, go read this announcement, then come back here. The rest of us will contemplate a monkey on a bicycle while awaiting your return:
Okay, so now you know that Scatter co-founder and consummate cultural critic, Barry Johnson, has a new column gracing the pulp and fiber edition of the Oregonian’s “How We Live” section on Mondays. But wait, there's more! His new column, Portland Arts Watch, is paired with a companion blog of the same moniker at OregonLive. The online version has more, and it's free. (Sorry Oregonian ... why buy the cow and all that).
The word "Watch” in the title implies vigilance, so we're picturing Mr. Johnson with a sailor's cap atop his head and a telescope tucked in his belt. He stands facing aft on the larboard side of the quarterdeck, the green glow of a radar screen his only illumination. As he peers into the foggy night, he hears only creaking lines, the thrumming of the engines far below, and the slap of a signal flag in the sharp breeze. Soon, he espies faint shadows looming in the distance.
Okay, so now you know that Scatter co-founder and consummate cultural critic, Barry Johnson, has a new column gracing the pulp and fiber edition of the Oregonian’s “How We Live” section on Mondays. But wait, there's more! His new column, Portland Arts Watch, is paired with a companion blog of the same moniker at OregonLive. The online version has more, and it's free. (Sorry Oregonian ... why buy the cow and all that).
The word "Watch” in the title implies vigilance, so we're picturing Mr. Johnson with a sailor's cap atop his head and a telescope tucked in his belt. He stands facing aft on the larboard side of the quarterdeck, the green glow of a radar screen his only illumination. As he peers into the foggy night, he hears only creaking lines, the thrumming of the engines far below, and the slap of a signal flag in the sharp breeze. Soon, he espies faint shadows looming in the distance.A fleet of ghost ships? Deadly icebergs? Or is it simply an illusion conjured by the unfortunate admixture of faint light, scurvy and strong rum?
“Huzzah!” he shouts in sudden alarm. “Arts approaching portside! … Cultural anthropology to starboard! … Dead ahead, heaving close with fearsome speed, a great whale of an economic collapse is preparing to swamp our cultural institutions. All hands on deck! Prepare to provide commentary!”
We thank Mr. Johnson for keeping a weather eye out for fascinating subjects, and expect to be reading his eclectic, thought-provoking musings with eagerness. Let’s hope that he gets his wish for lively conversation. Oh yes, he'll also continue posting his "more speculative (and off-topic, off-color or just plain off) posts" at Art Scatter.
Mr. Johnson has attended plenty of shows by Portland artists over the years, so how about reciprocating by visiting and contributing to Portland Arts Watch (PAW)? We're sure the bean counters at the Oregonian will be counting clicks. After all, this is part of the paper's strategy for adapting to the 21st century while fighting for survival. We've commented on the death rattle of the newspaper business before. Last week, we read alarming reports that the Hearst Corporation is threatening to shutter the Seattle Post-Intelligencer unless someone buys the 145-year old paper within the next two months. We should be thankful that the O has juiced up its arts coverage, rather than pruning it more. Perhaps they will arrive at a model that integrates new and old media while maintaining journalistic standards and making business sense.
While plugging PAW, did we mention that one of Mr. Johnson's first entries touted our own review of "The Motel Life" as part of his "Browse-Worthy Posts?" He called it, "our very favorite book review of 2009 (so far)." We are honored, and humbly accept the modifier.
Blazers and Beethoven
In case you're like me and you forget to read the "How We Live" section of The Oregonian most days (except on Mondays, when there is often content of great interest)... there is actually a pretty fun and informative read in today's newspaper wherein humor novelist Marc Acito and sports writer Ryan White swap beats. Acito's interpretation of his first-ever Trail Blazer game is priceless, and White has some really interesting observations from his first opera.
I'm liking this switcharoo thing, and The Oregonian's innovative take on cultural exchange! I'd be interested in hearing how the idea came about, and will refrain from any jokes about Ryan White being a better critic than some others I have read recently (in other, less intelligent newspapers, of course).
I'm liking this switcharoo thing, and The Oregonian's innovative take on cultural exchange! I'd be interested in hearing how the idea came about, and will refrain from any jokes about Ryan White being a better critic than some others I have read recently (in other, less intelligent newspapers, of course).
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