Monday, September 21, 2009
The Great Depression: A Diary is just that, the diary of a Youngstown, Ohio lawyer, named Benjamin Roth, who began to keep track of life for a bit more than a decade after the Great Crash of 1929. As the country tried to rebuild and reinvent itself after falling into the great financial mess, Roth recorded his thoughts and observations and tried diligently (and admirably) to learn how and why this happened.
As a diary, it's peppered with some interesting personal stories--friends and family who can't find work, the general unease of the times and how the conversations always turned to the economy. It also recalled home to me since I grew up just across the border in Western Pennsylvania.
However, since the diaries were likely never intended for publication by Roth, the entries get repetitive and downright tedious, especially the stock quotes of prominent local businesses. It left me cold and there were many points when I was going to put the book down. Then he'd write about how the country fears the coming surge of Socialism or how the government was helping industry, the banks and the citizens but the debt to the coming generations was going to be staggering.
The exact same things we are hearing and fearing now.
For that it was well-worth seeing the book through.
What we are seeing now, as new and troubling as it is, it's all been done before. Better still, it's been overcome and long before the Internet , the 24 news cycle and globalization. The "mortgaging our children" claptrap, the 'righteous' anger, the belief that government can't possibly be counted on to fix this situation, the whole schmeer.
If anything, the book made me feel like we'll be okay and we will find our financial footing. The trouble lies in the likelihood that it will take far longer than we are prepared to endure since we are a nation beholden to the Internet, the 24 news cycle and globalization. In the 1980's, the Dead Kennedys railed "Give me convenience or give me death!" not as their battle cry but to criticize who we had become. That could be our true stumbling block to economic recovery--that it won't happen as quickly as we think we are owed.
The book publishes in October.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
I'm Dying Up Here: Heartbreak and High Times in Stand-up Comedy's Golden Era by William Knoedelseder
The late 70's stand-up comedy boom changed American comedy almost entirely. This comedy was different--it was hard to define but it was easy to see what it wasn't. It wasn't corny old schtick like Henny Youngman or Borscht Belt reruns a la Buddy Hackett. It wasn't what was filling the big rooms in Vegas like Don Rickles nor was it the counterculture comedy of Carlin, Cheech nor Chong. It was a strange animal and the rules were being re-written with each set. Robin Williams, Richard Pryor, Freddie Prinze, David Letterman, Andy Kaufman--as comedic styles go, they had little in common but they were all nurtured in the same scene, if not born in it.
The story starts off following Richard Lewis and his best friend, Steve Lubetkin, as they meet, learn the ropes and hope like hell they'll make it. Stand-up is starting to flourish at a few small clubs in New York where guys like Lewis, Boston's Jay Leno, and others up-and-comers are making lower-case names for themselves.
Then the whole comedy scene moves West to LA, mostly to Sammy Shore's Comedy Store, which really hit its stride when Shore's wife, Mitzi, takes over. She transformed the joint from a passable stage to the launching pad of the biggest acts in the business. What's crazy was that, somehow, she got all these comics to perform for free while she charged a cover. There's no doubt Mitzi really believed in these comics but she also took tremendous advantage of them, having them paint the club or pick up her dry cleaning. Mitzi Shore comes off as totally self-absorbed and exploitive but she knew funny.
In 1979, Shore had opened her third or fourth Comedy Store in the LA area and was raking in enough dough to live the Cadillacs and cocaine lifestyle of the time. Meanwhile, many of the young guys couldn't afford breakfast after performing; others were living in their cars while they worked toward stardom so some of the more established comics (Leno, Tom Dreesen, Elayne Boosler, among them) decided it was time to even things out. They approached Mitzi with an idea to pay a small "stipend"; gas money, mostly, but Mitzi wouldn't budge. She was convinced The Comedy Store was a workshop, a college, and when they really learned their craft, naturally, they'd be famous comedians.
As absurd as it sounds, the comedians went on strike and it forever changed relationships among the comics. Feelings were hurt, deep friendships were ruined, and as the strike dragged on, Mitzi showed herself to be completely out of touch with reality. When the comedians offered her a way to settle the strike, her response was "Not. One. Fucking. Red. Cent."
There are some terrific stories within the larger story. I was struck by the real sense of fraternity among the comics; they'd fix each others set, give each other material and really look out for one another. Interesting as well is that an entire generation has no idea how close Letterman and Leno were before the legendary showdown over Johnny's job. Now they're Jay and Dave (in fact, Jay's new show begins airing this week).
The only drawback to the book is the author overreaching. I almost tossed the book when, on page 14, the author described Richard Lewis' love of Greenwich Village clubs this way: "...where Warholian hipness permeated the walls and the smell of grass and the sound of Dylan still wafted in the air." Permeatin' the walls, is it? Wafting, eh? Uh-huh. If you can get past sentences like that it's a quick, engrossing and very enjoyable book.