It’s All Optional

Posted on June 2, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

It’s all Optional

By Patrick F. Cannon

There’s an intersection at the end of my block with three-way stop signs (my street is one way). In the six years or so that I’ve lived here, I can only recall a handful of times when a vehicle actually came to a full top before proceeding on its way. Shall we be honest? Almost no one comes to a full stop unless there’s another vehicle proceeding through the intersection. I believe I’m an expert on the “full hesitation” instead of a lawful full stop.

While I have no way of actually proving it, it seems to me – on the evidence of my eyes – that the number of drivers who don’t even hesitate at stop signs is increasing. And not only stop signs; I’ve seen many drivers just slow down at red lights, then go through them with impunity. This impatience extends to speed. On expressways, few drivers take speed limits seriously, including me. But while I generally exceed the limit by 5 or 10 miles and hour, I have often been passed by drivers – if traffic permits – going 20 or 30 miles an hour (or more) above the posted limit. I’ve even seen two cars that seem to be racing each other through traffic (maybe with drawn guns?).

Passing on two-lane roads and streets is permitted if the center line is broken, but I have been passed many times when there is a solid yellow line, which means no passing. Just the other day, I was doing 35 in a 30 mile per hour zone on a residential street with a solid yellow line. I was passed by a car doing at least 50; there was a stop sign at the end of the block which was also ignored.

Last year, 42,915 people died in traffic accidents, a 10.5 percent increase over the year before. A popular theory says that it’s all connected to Covid restrictions. Although things have eased a bit, being forced to wear a mask in public, stay away from the corner bar, and generally hunker down has frustrated folks so much that they expressed their freedom in the one place they could – behind the wheel of their cars. I may be forced to wear a mask at the supermarket, but by God I can at least be free to ignore the law on the highways and byways of our great country!

In an effort to overcomplicate matters, I offer some alternate reasons for the lawlessness and carnage. One involves what I would call the “Trump effect.” This posits that his followers emulate their hero by having a total disregard for truth, justice and the American way. One can choose for oneself which laws to obey, including those pesky stop signs and speed limits. Countering this is the argument that liberals and progressives have overthrown accepted morality, so that breaking traffic laws with impunity follows logically from permitting same sex marriages, abortion and gender fluidity.

One that appeals to me – I’m a political independent – is simply that vehicle performance has exceeded the ability of most drivers to control it. When I was a lad reading car magazines, if a car could make it from zero to 60 in 12 seconds or less, it was considered pretty racy. My current car, a four-door sedan, can get there in half the time. And it’s not unusual for some, even hulking SUVs, to manage 60 in 5 seconds or less. Can you even imagine trying to control a machine like the Bugatti Veyron, which can get there in 2.4 seconds? And reach a top speed of 254 miles per hour? Even at 100 MPH on an expressway, how many drivers can really react properly to the unforeseen?

Then there’s a particular favorite of mine (and many an old crank like me). It speculates that younger generations have been told so often that they are unique and wonderful – and even win awards for being average – that they feel entitled to do whatever they damn well please, regardless of how it might affect others. Of course, it may be a combination of all of the above. In any event, if you’re a pedestrian, you would be well advised to take great care in crossing at intersections with stop signs. Hit and runs are on the increase too.

Bernays’ Familiar Quotations

Posted on May 26, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Bernays’ Familiar Quotations

By Patrick F. Cannon

As a former public relations guy, I’m always on the lookout for items that remind me of the good old days, and of the tried and true language that endures.

In Monday’s Chicago Tribune, there was an item about someone named Lizzo. Now I don’t have a clue who this might be, but I certainly recognized the stock phrases that described an upcoming HBO “documentary” about her. We can all look forward to a thus far untitled project that “shares the inspirational story behind her humble beginnings to her meteoric rise with an intimate look into the moments that shaped her hard-earned rise to fame, success, love and international stardom…”

Nice ring to it. The same ring that has rung on many other occasions, for many other entertainers, some of whom no doubt are still well known. In this digital age, it joins many other stock phrases in the computer storages of entertainment PR firms from coast to coast (but mostly in LA).

Now, this isn’t a direct quote, but I’m sure you’ve read or heard something very much like the following, usually from some actor or other show-biz biggie: “I am extremely sorry if anything I said or did caused (insert woman’s or women’s names) any discomfort. I realize now that I crossed the line. I can only say I’ve learned a valuable lesson and won’t let anything like this ever happen again.”

Have you ever noticed how similar these public expressions of remorse are? In almost every case, they are released not by the offender, but by his (or rarely her) public relations consultant (in the old days, “press agent). They rather remind me of a prayer that used to be recited at the Roman Catholic mass. Here is a current version:

I confess to almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters,

that I have greatly sinned in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do;

through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault;

therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin, all the Angels and Saints’

and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.

When I was a young lad, when you got to the “through my fault” part, you pounded your breast three times to further emphasize your guilt. When you confessed your sins to a priest, you promised, in the privacy of the Confessional, to sin no more. No privacy now. You must be seen (and heard) to publicly beat your breast.

If it doesn’t already exist, someone should publish a collection of useful and interchangeable paragraphs that cover the needs of any public figure. You know, kind of a Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations for the poor PR practitioner (which they like to call themselves instead of “flack”). It could be broken down into sections like Poverty-stricken Childhood, Sexual Mis-steps, Charitable Gestures, and Marriage Breakups. Under the last, we would find that classic – “We will always remain friends and put the interests of the children first!”

P.S. In case you haven’t heard of him, Edward Bernays is considered the “Father” of modern public relations, for better or worse. Look him up; an interesting character.

Help! What Should I Say?

Posted on May 19, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Help! What Should I Say?

By Patrick F. Cannon

Regular readers will know that I feel a general contempt for politicians, with no particular bias against either Democrats or Republicans. As it happens, I live in Illinois, whose finances have been wrecked by years of Democratic-dominated mismanagement. On the other hand, Republican candidates for governor have associated themselves with commercials that no ethical person would countenance.

Now, with the leak of Supreme Court Justice Alito’s draft opinion overturning Roe v. Wade, many candidates for the House and Senate face a dilemma. Apparently, roughly two-thirds of their fellow Americas support a woman’s right to decide whether to have an abortion or not. While there are certainly states where Republicans can oppose abortion with little worry, there are others where seats may not be so safe.

It has been widely expected that the Republicans would gain control of the House in the mid-term elections. Historically, the party in power is vulnerable, but apparently some Republican candidates think the expected decision may be a wild card possibly affecting their electability.

As it happens, I have an opinion on abortion rights, as I expect you do too. I’m not likely to change my mind after many years of thought, and I wouldn’t think of asking you to change yours. But what if we were politicians?

A news source I respect reported recently that Congressional candidates – Republicans in particular – have been asking their election consultants for advice on how they should talk about abortion during their campaigns. Think about this. After all these years of mouthing the “pro-life” party line, some Republicans are looking at the numbers – that two-thirds who support abortion – and beginning to sweat just a bit.

The reality is this – most politicians have no reasoned opinions on anything, much less abortion. What they do know is that a seat in Congress is worth both having and especially keeping. It provides a large staff to do the actual work, leaving plenty of time to schmooze contributors and be schmoozed by lobbyists. And grandstand. Notice how many members have made their way to Ukraine to show their solidarity with that beleaguered country. To save some dough, maybe Nancy Pelosi and Mitch McConnell should have taken the same flight!

I don’t mean to suggest that there are no principled politicians. Although I think he’s living in a self-created Socialist Valhalla, I do think Bernie Sanders is sincere in his beliefs. So, I think, are Liz Cheney and Mitt Romney. But what are we to think about someone like Kevin McCarthy? And the 147 Republicans who, against all credible evidence, voted against certifying the 2020 presidential election?

McCarthy is on record as telling fellow Republicans immediately after January 6, 2001 that he thought President Trump should immediately resign. And Washington’s Spinx, Mitch McConnel, was on record as saying he should be impeached. They said these things because they well knew that Trump had indeed tried to overthrow the election. Since then, their memories have clouded over, so don’t be surprised if they waffle a bit on abortion if they think it will get them elected.

R.I.P., Myron Cohen

Posted on May 12, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

R.I.P., Myron Cohen

By Patrick F. Cannon

Myron Cohen (1902-1986) was a well known comedian from the 1950s until his death in 1986. He was best known for his dialect jokes, primarily done in a Yiddish accent, but with a sprinkling in Italian and Irish dialects too. They were done affectionately, and were really short stories rather than the typical one-liners of the time. Before becoming a full time entertainer, he had sold fabrics to the New York garment industry, and said his story telling set him apart from his competitors. (Only Billy Chrystal today reminds me of him.)

He appeared fairly regularly on Ed Sullivan’s variety show, and later on both Jack Paar’s and Johnny Carson’s Tonight shows. I remember three of his short stories in particular, and I’ll try to do them justice here, but of course his delivery and accents added much to them. (By the way, I don’t recall that he thought his sex life was so fascinating that anyone would want to spend an hour listening to its gory details. Why this has become the norm with comedians today escapes me.)

Stage Delicatessen

Sam was a waiter at New York’s legendary Stage Delicatessen. His boss, the manager (maître de is perhaps too fancy a word for that place), was named Max. They had both been there for some 25 years, and had never said a kind word to each other. Their feuds were legendary, and indeed the customers thought their constant bickering was part of the delicatessen’s essential ambiance.

Then one day at closing, Max took Sam aside and said: “Sam, I know we haven’t always gotten along {a massive understatement}, but I know you’re a hard worker with loyal customers, so effective immediately, I’m giving you a raise.” To say that Sam was thunderstruck would be an understatement. He was actually almost struck dumb and could only reply with a very weak “thank you.”

When he got home and told his wife, she was amazed and said maybe Max wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Anyway, Sam had a spring in his step the next morning when he arrived at work. He went to the back room to put on his white jacket and apron. Max entered, walked over to him and said “Sam, you’re fired!” “Fired,” the stunned Sam replied, “yesterday you praised me and gave me a raise. How can you fire me?”

Max smilingly replied: “You should lose a better job!”

Watch Out!

O’Hara was a motorman on New York streetcars when such things still existed. He had been assigned to a route in Queens for many years, but then got transferred to a route in lower Manhattan. Being a bachelor, he decided to move to an apartment in the lower east side, so he could be within walking distance of the street car barn.

One day, he noticed his watch seemed to be losing a couple of minutes a day. Since an accurate watch was important in his job, and he had a day off, he decided to have it fixed. As it happened, he had noticed a shop down the street with a large watch in the window. Assuming it was a watch repair shop, he entered and went up to the counter. Behind it was an elderly man with a beard.

“My watch is losing time,” says O’Hara, “and I wonder if you could adjust it?”

“I don’t fix watches, I’m a mohel,” replies the bearded one.

“What’s a mohel, for God’s sake?”

“I circumcise little Jewish boys.”

“But why do you have that big watch in the window if you don’t fix watches?

“So, what do you want me to have in the window?”

Goldberg and the Pope

We’re back at the Stage Delicatessen. One table has for many years been set aside for a group of garment industry men who gather every week day for lunch. Not everyone comes every day; but on a typical day seven or eight show up. Two of them, Goldberg and Pearlstein, show up most days. They are both competitors and old friends. Over the years, Goldberg had become known as a name dropper. If you mentioned Frank Sinatra, for example, he would mention that he helped Frank get his first job singing in a club in Hoboken. In fact, almost every time a lunch mate mentioned a famous person, it turns out that Goldberg knows him or her from somewhere.

So one day his pal Pearlstein says to him that he knows someone he can’t possibly know. “I bet you don’t know the Pope!” Now, at the time, John XXIII was pope. Without batting an eyelash, Goldberg replies “Of course, I know the Pope. We’re pals from a long time ago.” A hush came over the table. After a pause, Perlstein challenges his old friend: “I’ll tell you what. Let’s take the wives to Rome on vacation. If you can prove you know the Pope, I’ll spring for the whole trip, but if you don’t, you pay!”

To everyone’s amazement, Goldberg agrees. Two weeks later, the couples are in Rome, seeing the sites and eating lots of pasta. Goldberg tells his friend that in two days the Pope will appear on his balcony in St. Peters Square to bless the multitude. “I’ll give you a pair of binoculars and when he appears, you’ll see me come out behind him.”

On the given day, Pearlstein joins the huge crowd waiting for the Pope to appear. He trains his binoculars on the balcony. The double doors open and the portly Pope steps out. Then, just behind him, who should appear but Goldberg. Pearlstein’s jaw drops in disbelief. He is transfixed, but he feels someone pulling on his sleeve. Next to him is an elderly man, who says to him: “I can’t see too well anymore. Could you please tell me who is that man standing on the balcony with Goldberg?”

#####

Don’t Do It!

Posted on May 5, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Don’t Do It!

By Patrick F. Cannon

Writing about the Disney Corporation’s difficulties with the State of Florida over its new sex education law got me to thinking about my own experiences growing up. When I tell you that my first eight grades were spent in Roman Catholic schools in the 1940s and 50s, it should give you a hint.

“Sex Education” as a subject did not exist. This now strikes me as strange, as the Church seemed to encourage its married members to be as fruitful as possible. It is well to remember that Catholic schools were run by nuns, who themselves had taken a vow of chastity. To most of them, the mere mention of sex seemed sinful. I do recall being told that it was mortal sin to touch one’s private parts for pleasure. I forget whether it was your hand or your penis which would fall off!

The late Peter Ustinov, the actor (and so much more) told a story of going to an assembly at his boy’s boarding school, where the headmaster tried manfully to educate his charges about sex. He muttered and stuttered, and finally told them: “just don’t do it!”

I went on to a public high school in McKeesport, PA, and the subject was covered in a mandatory course in Sophomore year called “Health.” It was taught by the school’s football coach. He would instruct the students to read a chapter, and answer to the questions at the end. Then, if you were on the football team, as I was that year, you would go the back of the classroom, where coach would diagram plays on a blackboard. Since football was almost a religion in Western Pennsylvania, no one thought this odd. There was a chapter on reproduction, which described the subject in vague terms. Needless to say, it wasn’t illustrated. At least, the stork wasn’t mentioned as a delivery system.

Somehow, I figured it out for myself, as those did who had a similar education. However, I do think sex education should be mandatory in our schools. The question – and this is the nub of the Florida controversy – is how much and when. Is the third grade too soon to tell the kiddies about the seemingly endless ways humans express their sexuality? I believe it is. Children that age are still three or four years from the earliest stirrings of puberty, which is time enough to raise these issues.

I’ve heard it said that teaching the variety of sexual expression to young minds may somehow encourage them to imagine that they themselves may be gay, or bisexual, or transgender. I’m not sure there’s any evidence that that’s the case. I do know that it can all be very confusing to an immature mind. Eventually, we all need to know these things, if only to learn tolerance of those who once were shunned and even prosecuted for their sexual orientation.

And not only sexual orientation, but race, religion, class and national origin. Ideally, these would be taught at home, but why do I get the impression that today’s parents are ill-equipped to do so? Religion? Some these days seem to preach intolerance instead. And even those that don’t see fewer and fewer people in their pews on Sunday.

So, my idea, for what it’s worth, is that Junior High or Middle School is time enough to begin properly educating young people about sex in all it’s glories and pitfalls. Let’s let the little kids live in ignorant bliss.

Mind Your Own Business!

Posted on April 28, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Mind Your Own Business!

By Patrick F. Cannon

I’m not going to go into the details of the Florida law about what can and cannot be taught about sex to little kiddies in their schools, but whether or not the Disney corporation should have gone public with their objection to it.

My answer is “no.” Why would a corporation that owns more than 200 companies that reach into the pockets of almost every American, alienate a significant percentage of its customers and its stockholders by taking a position they may or may not agree with? Maybe they should make a cartoon called “Mickey Talks Sex.” Or, maybe “Goofy Comes Out!”

More and more, public corporations are giving in to pressure from some of their employees and customers to take positions – mostly, it must be said, “woke” ones – on public policy matters. I suppose Disney, in the business of amusing children, now thinks it should take a role in deciding how they’re educated about sex. Initially mute on the bill, Disney CEO Bob Chapek eventually gave in to pressure from members of the Disney family and affiliated companies to express opposition to the bill. As a result, and in obvious retaliation, the Florida legislature has stripped Disney of its special quasi-governmental status.

I frankly don’t know enough about the bill to take an informed position. But I do know that public corporations like Disney should mind their own business, unless a proposed law or regulation directly affects it. For example, if the Florida legislature were to propose a special tax for amusement parks that other businesses didn’t have to pay, that would be a legitimate reason to scream bloody murder. And General Motors would be within its rights to weigh in on fuel consumption or pollution limits. But why would they take a position on school prayer?

Private companies are a different matter. Their owners can say whatever they wish — at their own risk, of course. A good example is Bill Penzey of Penzey’s Spices. A progressive’s progressive, Penzey uses his regular customer newsletter and other media to heap abuse on Republicans. As I recall, he started this when Donald Trump was running for president and upped the ante when he was elected. While I was inclined to agree with him on Trump, he soon began painting all Republicans with the same brush, and continues to do so. Indeed, in honor of Martin Luther King Day this year, he proclaimed “Republicans are Racists” weekend!

Has he lost customers because of his stance? Yes, he has. Obviously, Republicans can get their spices elsewhere, and mostly do. But it seems that Democrats and progressives have decided to put more spice in their lives, so he claims his business has actually increased. Go figure!

Anyway, if I were running a public company, I would require all employees to sign something like this as a condition of employment:

“The Acme Horseshoe Company is in the business of making the best horseshoes available on the market. It is dedicated to providing a quality product to the world’s horses, farriers, owners and trainers. It takes no position on matters of public policy, unless they directly affects its core business. This does not mean that its employees may not do so – in fact, it encourages its employees to express their opinions on matters that affect them and their communities, as long as they do not associate the Acme Horseshoe Company with them. To do so is cause for immediate termination.”

Boy, That Was a Close Shave!

Posted on April 21, 2022April 21, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Boy, That Was a Close Shave!

While I was shaving the other day, and musing on the true meaning of life, it suddenly occurred to me that I was performing a task I had performed approximately 25,000 times before. So struck was I by this, that I decided that my faithful readers would have to wait a bit longer to find out what their existence really meant.

There is evidence, although a bit sketchy if you ask me, that men began shaving about 100,000 years ago. Well, shaving might not be an exact description. It seems the cave men would remove unwanted facial hair by plucking it out with used calm shells. In more recent times, women have been known to pluck out unruly hair from their eyebrows in a similar manner. Indeed, in the 1930s they often plucked all the hair from their eyebrows, then painted on a more acceptable version with something called (still) an eyebrow pencil. Some very bizarre effects were obtained, but that’s fashion for you.

It wasn’t until about 3,000 B.C. that something resembling a razor appeared, in Egypt of course. Thin pieces of sharpened copper apparently did the job. Surviving images often show men with spade-like chin whiskers, but otherwise smooth of face. By the time the Greeks came along, as shown in surviving sculptures and urns, the fashion seems to have gone back and forth between the smooth-shaven and the full bearded. When the Romans entered the stage, beards seem to have gone completely out of fashion.

One of the reasons seems to have been that they had mastered steel-making. In addition to sword and knife blades for hacking away at those pesky barbarians and dispatching unwanted emperors, they could now sharpen and hone a blade that made shaving bearable. This technology also made scissors more useful for cutting one’s hair, which made short hair fashionable for the first time.

For hundreds of years thereafter, whether one had a beard or not, or long or short hair, was – for the rich, at least – a matter of taste and fashion. Long hair, no beard? No hair, but luxuriant beard? Bald, but bewigged? The Rasputin look? All were available. Eventually, the foldable straight razor became the implement of choice, whether wielded by the gentleman himself of his barber.

(As an aside, it was once common for men to go regularly to their barber for a shave. No doubt you’re familiar with the ditty: “shave and a haircut, two bits.” Now rare, the ritual involved wrapping the customer’s face in hot towels, then lathering his face with soap, often using the customer’s personal shaving mug. Using a very sharp straight razor, the barber would sweep the customer’s face clean of the offending beard, then finish the ritual off with a fine and fragrant after-shave lotion. At an upscale shop, a shave and haircut might now cost $100 or more.)

When I first started shaving some 70 years ago, I used an electric machine. As my beard became a bit tougher, I switched to a blade razor. It was a Gillette, which then and now dominates the business. It was started by King Gillette, not to be confused with King Canute. To him, we owe the invention of the safety razor. The blade of choice by the time I started was the double-edged Gillette Blue Blade. In keeping with the time-honored American practice of making its products obsolete on a regular basis, they eventually introduced the Super Blue Blade, followed by the Platinum Blade (actually stainless steel).

Having exhausted the possibilities of the double-edged blade, they then began selling cartridge razors and blades. Their latest iteration, the Gillette Labs Exfoliating Razor, not only slices away your beard with five blades, but gets rid of your foliates! The cheapest cost per blade is about $3.50. Since I’m not afflicted with foliates, I get similar 5-blade cartridges from Harry’s for less than $2.00 each. They do a good job, and I kind of like the name.

Historically, women have used similar razors to shave their legs, underarms, and what has come to be known as the “bikini line.” It seems to me that shaving one’s private parts is fraught with danger, but I’m told that even some men do it. I find this hard to believe, but then I’ve never understood tattoos or body-piercing either. Apparently neither God nor Mother Nature (or simple biology) can be trusted to get things right.

Finally, I tried to grow a beard once. I discovered that my beard was heavier on the left side of my face than the right, resulting in a strange lopsided effect. I do admire a fine beard, and have friends who sport them. If you wish to see beards a plenty, as well as tattoos and interesting body piercings, you would do well to walk the streets of Wicker Park, Bucktown and Logan Square in Chicago. That is the domain of the hipster. The women will look much the same, except (mostly) for the beards.

Pots to Go Missing In

Posted on April 14, 2022April 14, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Pots to Go Missing In

By Patrick F. Cannon

My friend Jerry McManus, who lives in Chicago’s Galewood neighborhood, mentioned at breakfast the other day that the pothole season is now well underway. Depending on the severity of the Winter, and the freeze/thaw cycle, it can start as early as March in the Chicago area. Added to Mother Nature’s depredations, highway departments spread copious amounts of salt on the roads at the merest suggestion of snow or ice, exacerbating the problem.

Coincidentally, later that day I passed a crew filling potholes on a side street. There was a truck filled with blacktop and a three-man crew. One man filled the hole with a shovel of material, another tamped it down, and the third watched with interest. If necessary, another shovel full was added, and so on. With luck, and not too much traffic, the patch could be expected to last a full week. On busier streets, or if a politician lives there, the crew may also have a road roller, which does a better job of tamping down the blacktop. These patches could last as long as a month!

In the days before most cars had alloy wheels, which do without hub caps, it was quite common to see stray hub caps in the vicinity of a particularly deep pothole. This was a boon for the intrepid scrap-metal pickers, who cruise the streets and alleys of Chicago and nearby suburbs to fill their pickups with the thrown away of our throw-away culture. Often, the hub caps would end up at specialized used hub-cap shops, where you could buy a replacement for your missing cap; it might even be the same one you lost.

I remember one year on North Avenue in Chicago, from roughly Austin Boulevard to Cicero Avenue, when the potholes were so bad that you thought you were going through a slalom course. Even then, they were arranged so you couldn’t miss them all, so you just tried to avoid the axle breakers. Soon after, that and other stretches of the street were resurfaced.

(By the way, potholes should not be confused with sinkholes, which occur when the ground beneath the surface is eaten away, sometimes by a water leak, or the collapse of an underground aquifer. These happen often in Florida. I recall one occasion when a whole collection of vintage Corvettes was swallowed up by a giant collapse. Potholes,, by contrast, rarely swallow more than one vehicle.)

Here’s a conspiracy theory for you. There is an evil cabal that includes politicians, highway departments, union bosses, concrete and blacktop suppliers, and contractors who have a vested interest in building roads that look spiffy when built, but will crumble and fail on a regular schedule. This, when some of the roads the Romans built are still in use?

We have sent men to the Moon, and explored the far reaches of space. Most of us walk around with phones that have more computing power than whole rooms of computers had just 25 years ago. But we can’t build roads and streets that last longer than 10 years?

I am reminded of a 1951 movie, The Man in the White Suit, which starred Alec Guinness as a Cambridge-educated chemist who invents a fabric that is both indestructible and repels dirt. He is hailed as a genius, until it occurs to the woolen-mill owners and their unionized work forces that the new fabric will eventually put them out of business and jobs. Management and labor join forces to put a stop to Guinness and his job-killing invention.

But then, fate takes a hand. Suddenly, the fabric begins to dissolve in the rain, exposing a flaw in the inventor’s formula. The wool industry is saved and can resume fleecing the public! But the final scene has poor Alec pouring over his formula. Suddenly, a smile appears. He has found a flaw in the formula that can be fixed!

Is there an Alec Guinness of roadbuilders out there? If there is, he better watch his back.

Pots to Go Missing In

Posted on April 14, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

Pots to Go Missing In

By Patrick F. Cannon

Is there an Alec Guinness of roadbuilders out there? If there is, he better watch his back.

The Giddy-up is Gone

Posted on April 7, 2022 by patnettecomcastnet

The Giddy-up is Gone

By Patrick F. Cannon

(Horse racing was once America’s favorite spectator sport. Now, it’s one of the least attended. So, if you are in the majority who are indifferent to the sport, I’ll forgive you for not reading this week’s essay.)

There are sufficient people who care about thoroughbred horse racing to keep it viable in states like Kentucky, New York, Arkansas, Florida and California. In Illinois, not so much.

Arlington International – once the crown jewel of Illinois racing, and the most beautiful track in the United States – has been closed, and its sale to the Chicago Bears is pending. To be honest, the racing there in recent years has been third-rate at best. It was owned by Churchill Downs, Inc. (CDI), which for years had lobbied our dysfunctional legislature for a law that would permit slot machines and other forms of gambling at the track, as was the case in some the states listed above. When they finally did so, CDI had already bought a controlling interest in the nearby Rivers Casino, which they decided was more profitable. So, goodbye Arlington.

The only track left in the Chicago area is Hawthorne, located in Cicero/Stickney. While in no way elegant, it’s serviceable, and does have plans to add gambling as a way to boost purses. That should substantially increase purses in the long term; in the short term, purses will increase somewhat because Hawthorn will no longer have to share off-track and other revenues with Arlington. But the real problem is that Hawthorne – as the only track in the Chicago area – will have to allot racing days to harness racing as well as thoroughbreds. To be fair, I’m sure the harness folks feel the same!

When I first went racing in 1957, there were six tracks in the area: Washington Park in Homewood; Arlington Park in Arlington Heights (both then owned by the Lindheimer family; Hawthorne (owned for more than 100 years by the Carey family); Sportsman’s Park in Cicero; Maywood Park in (you guessed it!) Maywood, and Balmoral Park (once called Lincoln Fields) in far south-suburban Crete.

After Washington Park burned down in 1977, and was not rebuilt, only Arlington raced thoroughbreds exclusively; the others, except for Maywood (standardbreds only), alternated both thoroughbred and standardbred (trotters and pacers) dates. Historically, both breeds could run at one or another almost the entire year.

Maywood went bankrupt and was demolished in 2019 to make way for an Amazon distribution center! Sportsman’s Park faced the wrecking ball in 2009, after an abortive experiment as a horse and car racing facility. Balmoral became a horse show facility, but is now closed.

Hawthorne, now the lone survivor, reopened for thoroughbreds last weekend. Purses will be up, which is good news for the horsemen. But when the standardbreds take over in later June, they will have to move their horses out of the Chicago area until September 23. Owners and trainers who race in Kentucky, New York, Florida, Maryland, or California don’t ever have to leave those states. The only other racetrack in Illinois, Fairmont Park, is nearly 300 miles away and offers live racing only three days a week and for paltry purses.

I think a new track dedicated only to harness racing in the Chicago area would be a boon to the industry, particularly if it also offered other forms of gambling and ran at night. A modest facility holding 5,000 fans and providing additional gambling might even be financially feasible! Hawthorne could then run thoroughbreds most of the year, with purses competitive with all but the top tier tracks like Keeneland, Belmont, Saratoga, Oaklawn and Del Mar.

Finally, it might revive a once thriving Illinois breeding industry. Lack of opportunities and low purses, among other reasons, have reduced mares bred in Illinois from 1,285 in 2001 to 105 in 2020. Kentucky of course leads the list with 16,727 mares bred last year. Illinois doesn’t even appear in the top ten.

As it happens, a revival in Illinois would come at a time of positive trends in racing. Fatality rates at most tracks are falling; and for the first time, there will be a national body responsible for uniform medication enforcement, instead of confused state-by-state regulations. Starting in July, the United States Anti-Doping Agency – the folks who finally caught Lance Armstrong – should largely put a stop to the few bad actors who have given horse racing a shady reputation.

Before I close, I should mention that the Kentucky Derby is only a month away. So far, there is no strong favorite. I’m inclined to favor Epicenter, the Louisiana Derby winner, but if Forbidden Kingdom wins Saturday’s Santa Anita Derby convincingly, I might just change my mind.