The Way I See It

Friday, August 11, 2023

Johnny Manziel Documentary “Untold” Should Have Stayed That Way

There are possibly three groups of people who will have some kind of reaction to the debut of the new Netflix documentary on Johnny Manziel, Texas A&M’s most famous, or infamous, football player in the past 20 years. Group 1 is a group of Aggie fans who are devoted to championing Johnny Manziel as “Johnny Football,” and they are likely to own at least one piece of memorabilia bearing the number ‘2’. No matter what, Johnny is “their guy” forever, unquestionably.

Group 2 are those college football fans who watched as a pre-adult from a tiny Texas town took the world by storm by playing his heart out on Saturday afternoons around Texas and the eastern United States, set records, won the hearts of Aggies, and then disappointed himself and many who adored him, and washed their hands of him, disgusted that he’d won the nation’s highest honor, the Heisman Trophy, and then trashed his career, almost purposefully.

Group 3 include college football fans in general who were mesmerized by the antics on and off the football field of a young renegade with an impish grin and devil-may-care attitude towards rules and regulations, and who are hoping to see that Johnny turned his life around and will tune in, possibly to see a portrait of a life redirected and focused on a happy adult existence.

On August 7, Johnny Manziel used his favorite social medium of choice, X, formerly known as Twitter, to share: “Can’t wait for you guys to see this. Appreciate all the support!” The “this” is the Netflix documentary, UNTOLD: Johnny Football, which premiered on August 8.

Assuming he had seen it in advance, you have to wonder why he’d want any of his friends or fans to see it. The timing, of course, is just a few weeks before his eponymous new business venture, Johnny Manziel’s Money Bar opens on College Main in Aggieland’s famous Northgate district.

Why I expected to see a documentary that might show the trajectory of a young man who had turned his life around and perhaps having found peace with hard work as he rebuilt his life, I don’t know. I naively like happy endings, and all Aggies who screamed and yelled for his success on game days, on award days, and on NFL opening day really want him to succeed. Who wouldn’t want the best for him? Listen to the words of those featured in the documentary.

Somehow between the beginning of a prospective insider’s look into the heart of Johnny Manziel, potentially to somewhat recapture the magic of a young man who zoomed through a myriad of opportunities for a secure future to the big reveals of things most of us suspected but were not sure, it was one sad story told for all the world to see, again.

If I were going to watch for a second time, which I won’t, I would take a pencil and make tik marks every clip that showed Johnny’s father scowling, his former lifetime childhood friend “Uncle Nate,” with so much camera time that you had a very good idea of the potential delinquents in training the duo were, they somehow never saw a reason to stop doing what they were doing, whether or not laws or professional student-athlete ethics were violated.

Then you have Uncle Nate describing how he was “the guy” or “the go-to” if you wanted to contact Johnny gave you cause to pause as you listened to Johnny’s former sports agent, Erik Burkhardt. Funny, I didn’t care for either person as they joyfully described the extremes to which they went for “their guy.” Yet, today, neither of them is Johnny’s guy anymore. No one interviewed any of Johnny’s teammates, the guys who Johnny would regularly treat to multicourse meals at Veritas, or anywhere else they wanted, because he knew to treat his O-line well.

You heard and saw the footage of one of the traffic stops of Johnny and former girlfriend, but you didn’t see two or three years of her riding along all the way to every destination party and event she was only too pleased to be there for. Not saying any woman should ever stand for being hit or abused, not at all. She loved living that life, until she didn't any more. It’s just that there was no in-depth search into Johnny’s psyche, just on the highlights of the disasters and very superficial coverage.

You didn’t see the girl he was engaged to and, for a time, married to, who focused Johnny on getting back in the gym daily and who may well be responsible for why he is still here. Nor, did you get treated to any real portrait other than two soundbytes from his sister, his lifeline and anchor throughout most of the past years.

If you want any real insight into Johnny and the family dynamics, read Josh Katzowitz’s 2012 book “Johnny Football,” as the author spent substantive time in Tyler, met the entire family at the Tyler Country Club and things become infinitely clearer, no thanks to this documentary. The Heisman trophy logged quite some time in the showrooms of the car dealerships in whatever city Dad was selling cars.

For all of Johnny’s freshman football year, when former head coach Kevin Sumlin’s imposed rule of forced silence for all freshman players was in place (arguably likely the only rule Johnny followed during his career here), all quotes, legend, lore, and facts were according to the words of “Uncle Nate,” the moniker being gifted no doubt to craft an image of a wise guy with an inside track and an outside character, or caricature, of “the guy” you need to know if you’re going to reach Johnny…or “get to him” more appropriately.

Plenty of people got to Johnny and he reciprocated in finding access to people he had only once dreamed of reaching. Imagine the heady feeling of sitting next to Maverick Carter, business partner for LeBron James, and then ultimately signing with their firm for investment opportunities as well as other groups, tweeting to his hero "Happy Birthday King James" and having LeBron welcome him on Twitter(X) when he signed with their agency. He sold a vitamin bodybuilder powder with Patrick Schwarzenegger for a time, and he sold some Snickers bars even when he didn’t make a Cheerios box.

And then there was the professional football meltdown. It was a movie in the making, literally. Another unpleasant character in Johnny’s life is smarmy Erik Burkhardt, who delighted in regaling all the steps he took in being the reason Johnny got drafted at all by the Cleveland Browns.

It’s ironic, the film “Draft Day” with Kevin Costner debuted in Johnny’s draft year, and as the team in the movie was the Cleveland Browns, the plot was almost prophetic. The big buzz around the draft was a hot shot quarterback who seemed too good to be true. The better player was Vontae Mack (Cuba Gooding Jr.), but all the hype was around the quarterback Bo Callahan (Josh Pence).

At the time, collective wisdom identified Michigan State’s Connor Cook at the quarterback with baggage but some pundits admitted it could just as easily be Johnny Manziel. The entire plot revolved around player character. And just like Bo sat at that table undrafted while everyone around him was getting the nod, Johnny sat there and ran through four bottles of water before he heard his name. Seriously, "Draft Day"is a better show to rewatch than “Untold,” by a long shot.

Whether or not he was an entitled athlete, as though Texas is not filled with them in every town from the Cut and Shoot Bulldogs to the Normangee Panthers, Johnny’s story is not unique as depicted in "Untold." Football and Friday nights reign every fall in Texas. You know going in that if you succeed, the sky’s the limit for you to receive local, state, regional and national prominence, even if you’re from tiny Tivy High School in Kerrville, Texas.

There are young men who come from the least affluent circumstances with only raw talent and a dream, and they don’t waste the opportunities and chances they have. They work relentlessly, they sacrifice pleasures of the moment, and they follow team rules, listen to their coaches, and they mature and grow to be career NFL employees and professional athletes who take their substantive fortunes they amass and invest them in the communities where they grew up. LeBron James and Steph Curry are two basketball standouts who prioritize education, who fund a myriad of opportunities for children to learn and grow.

Then, there’s local football star Gerald Carter who played for Bryan High, spent eight years with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and then came home and spent 31 years with the Boys and Girls Club, which he attended as a grade school student, mentoring students. You don’t see a documentary on Gerald, but he and other local successes are surely worthy of them. No, it’s all about the bad boy, the headline-making, loud-living, rule-flaunting, yet lovable Johnny Football.

Yes, TAMU made millions off the publicity that he brought the school. No, it’s not fair that he didn’t see a dime of it but that was the way it was then. He didn’t really need the money, though, did he? He was proud of what he and Uncle Nate crafted as the myth behind the “family fortune” to explain away all the unexplained affluence he was enjoying.

People were not as stupid as to believe it. They did what they always do—overlook the obvious as long as the football team is winning—that’s the way of football, and of the Heisman. How do you expect anyone to apply a rule to Manziel when you’ve awarded the Heisman to Jameis Winston, whom Coach Jimbo Fisher couldn’t control any more than Coach Kevin Sumlin could control Johnny.

Spoiler alert: The bon mot dropped in the midst of the film is Johnny felt empty when he was at the top of his game, financially, positionally, and in big-city bright lights. He bought a gun, tried to use it, and it failed. And then the documentary continues on. Didn’t show how certain people in his life (not mom or dad, who he wouldn’t listen to) tried over and over to reach him, ground him, show him a different path…but the train had left the station long before.

Here he is today. A man alone on a bar stool chair in an empty set in a documentary. You don’t see if he lives in a home, condo, apartment, or where he is, whether he has people permanently in his life who are happy to be there with him, and you don’t see what his typical day is like these days. It’s like he’s there, and then he’s gone. It’s a damn shame.

Had he stayed just slightly in the slow lane, he could have been joining a lifetime job for Texas A&M, welcoming and greeting Aggies on campus for the rest of his life, raising money for athletics, enjoying all things Aggie, surrounded by people who were always truly happy to have him here in town.

Image is not always as it seems. While Johnny was a student, even in the midst of some of his high jinks, for every rumor of wild behavior, you would hear how he had been at a party of some “regular people” in town and been the nicest, best behaved guy there, not acting entitled at all, just one of the guys. You’d hear how he would pull into McAlister’s Deli and pick up a to go order for “Johnny” and be the sweetest customer, said thank you with a big smile and left a nice tip. He was the same kid who doted on his little sister and cousin and was as happy as he could be to play a round of golf with a few close friends who weren’t on the A&M football team. When he was surrounded by normalcy, he fit right in.

It’s just that fame came calling, and notoriety put her arms around him and swept him up….now a bar in Northgate is not the path to normalcy for a quiet life but one would hope it brings him peace and contentment, and a group of clients who can appreciate that he wanted to create a place where everyone knows your name, relax, watch a game or two on TV, and hang out.

If he never achieves another iota of success in business in his lifetime doesn’t matter. With good investments, the money he made will hold out. One wishes him the best though, for a happy and successful life, and a new, better documentary to come down the road, one worth watching. Everyone still believes in a happy ending. Make it so, Johnny, make it so.

Sunday, August 6, 2023

Texas Aggies Need Not Fear Diversity or Any Future Changes

[Photo: Image by pressphoto on Freepik]

When I arrived on campus at Texas A&M, 49 years ago this summer, as a new member of the Class of ’78, I was naïve about Texas politics and wide-eyed about the magnificent campus that hosted the friendliest group of students and smiling faculty I’d encountered since graduating from Keystone School in San Antonio. Today my high school remains in the Top 10% nationally among Best College Prep Private High Schools in America.

I graduated in 1974 as one in a class of 21, which included students of Caucasian, Black, Hispanic, and Asian-American heritage. Today the school still ranks #378 of 7,010 most diverse private high schools in America. Some of us were there on scholarships, full and partial, others were full-pay students. Some had new cars, others arrived in dated cars driven by parents, and still more took the bus across town to reach campus.

Coming from that environment, the only class distinction made was if you wanted to study hard or not. Everyone went to college and most graduated eventually if not in four years’ time. Yet, I am neither a student of privilege nor am I unfamiliar with what it is to have friends across all races and cultures. By most accounts, I’m just an ordinary student of life, slightly nerdy if I’m frank, but no better than anyone else.

Texas A&M felt like “home” to me and little to nothing that happened during my undergraduate education dissuaded me from that feeling. Change had happened on campus already when they admitted women as regular students. Hard feelings were still held by some of the older professors who preferred A&M remain all male, all military, just as it was when they first started teaching there, but I can only think of one class where I received a lesser grade than my male classmate with the same scores. Life’s tough, so if you want to succeed, you take a deep breath and keep going. I did. No big deal. I didn’t whine, nor complain to any higher ups. It’s life and it will always be that way as long as people are scared of change.

Thanks to two men of Democratic political persuasion, Gen. J. Earl Rudder and State Sen. W. T. “Bill” Moore, aka “The Bull of the Brazos,” women were accepted into A&M. They had to fight for our inclusion, just as the Civil Rights Act had had to fight for students of color to have equal admission. These changes happened and gradually, so I thought, those who were not pleased found a way to understand that these changes were not made “to” them, but “for” them, because as a wise prof once said, “No one person is as smart as ‘all of us.’” As a group, Aggies were unbeatable, and that was meant to describe more than a collective group on a football field.

The Aggie school spirit fueled the ability for students of all backgrounds to come together and love this place in a way that is seemingly absurd to those who didn’t go here. Nevertheless, we do, and we have and as long as there is a Texas A&M, we will continue to engender a sense of belonging that makes each of us feel that this is “our school.” We don’t take kindly to people trying to poke fun at us, or to put us in a bad light. Through the years, though, we’ve done enough of that to ourselves that we have found the enemy and “they are us.”

One of A&M’s greatest allies and advocates is a proud graduate of the University of Texas at Austin—the late, dynamic leader, Mrs. Margaret Rudder, another proud Democrat who not only welcomed diversity; she embraced it. In her time here, she mentored many students, male and female, and she loved them as much as they loved her. She was never judgmental or harsh if a student had long hair, blue hair, a nose ring, or four earrings in one ear. She might say “Now, that’s something you don’t see every day,” but she didn’t put it down nor did she try to bash it. A mother’s heart loves all at all times, I think, is one way to see it.

If we were all alike, we’d be very dull. And were she here, I doubt she’d be very pleased about The Rudder Association using her family name, even if her eldest son has endorsed their articulated beliefs proudly proclaimed online. She and Gen. Rudder have/had five children and until all of them place their names there, don’t assume that they’d be in lockstep agreement of the fear-based diatribe on that site.

Over the years, many among the small group of the disgruntled have found reason to come together under the guise of “protecting” all that is good and right about Texas A&M, through their eyes at least. To generalize them, most of them don’t have any friends who don’t think the same way they do, or don’t look any different than they do, and they find comfort in that. They’re the Ron Desantis’s of this world, to use a current example not from Texas.

Every time a person who doesn’t like how things are changing, how society and education have been asked to welcome, if not embrace at least tolerate, an inclusive student body that features making those who identify as LGBTQ+ feel at home to make them feel welcome, as they should here, there’s a giant failure that continues to perpetuate fear.

There seems to be a knee-jerk revulsion, repulsion, and need to run to the nearest Bible to grab onto, some right side up, others upside down, and to wave it and yell that “they’re not like us! They can’t belong here because that makes them just like us and we’re not them!” Really?

Students in pursuit of knowledge? Students with talents and interests different than ours? Students who do not ask you to be like them, or to approve of them any more than they are asked to approve of you or to like you. When I’m confronted with change or difference, I try to enter a discussion with love and understanding.

When grouped together in class projects, I’ve seen it over and over again, when “diverse” people come together and blend their best work and they produce the best results, collectively, as a result of combining individual gifts and talents. It doesn’t make the students leave the group and want to adopt a lifestyle that is not in keeping like they entered with, but they do leave, possibly, with less fear of the unknown, and less fear of having their minds changed because they had a good experience. Maybe they even leave with more understanding about people they didn't know before. Could be friendships are forged as well, some that last a lifetime.

If I see the word “woke” one more time, I think I shall have to put a(nother) quarter in the cuss jar, because it is so easily spewed by people who refuse to tolerate people who support diversity, equality, and inclusivity. If you’re not already awake, then by definition, you are asleep, like Rumpelstiltskin, and have been, as the world around you has changed over the past 20, 30, and 40 years. And before you bring your Bible and religion into the mix, I politely remind you that there is a reason for separation of church and state.

In my day, religion was taught at home and in my Sunday School classes and church, and education was taught in my school. We did recite the pledge of allegiance every morning in elementary school, and we had posters up in the hallways to commemorate the various religious holidays of our students at Keystone. We tried to learn a little about each of them, especially in music classes where we would learn cultural songs of relevant heritage. It was there to observe whether or not it was embraced. We attended Quincineras and Bar Mitzvahs of our classmates. No one was cramming anything down our throats. We loved it!

We were always “awake” at Keystone, and at Texas A&M, it’s such a big place, there have always been approved student groups to gather together those who had distinct interests unto themselves. Remember Cepheid Variable for science fiction (the early Trekkies et al.), the hometown groups for those from smaller towns, groups for the cowboys and cowgirls, service fraternity and sororities (before the Panhellenic groups came to town), and sports car clubs, on and on.

I didn’t think of Texas A&M as awake or asleep, or anything other than an institution of higher education and a safe place to express ideas of both political opinions without being ridiculed or grade penalized for that. It was in my role as one student senator that in 1976 our leader was student body president Fred McClure, future attorney and A&M regent, and Singing Cadet, and future Executive Director of The Leadership Initiative at A&M. Every meeting people expressed all kinds of ideas and opinions. All were heard and at the end, the votes decided the direction.

Quite civil, quite inspirational. Not everyone is going to agree all the time, and there’s going to be times when students disagree with professors, but it doesn’t mean it’s a state offense to disagree, nor should it. One example. In my fourth degree from A&M (having earned a B.S. ChE, M.S. in Phys. Chem, and Ph.D. in Phys. Chem., I went back to earn an M.Ed. in Educational Administration (Higher Ed Program Evaluation). One of my favorite professors was one with whom I seemed to disagree on at least three educational tenets, no doubt because my early educational experiences were different than his.

Rather than sit timidly like a mouse with my opinion welling up in my throat and getting angry, after he’d offered his opinions and “take” on things in our books, he asked, “Other thoughts?” I took that as my opening and the two of us enjoyed beginning our position statements with “I am diametrically opposed to everything you just said.” The class would laugh and off we’d go into a discourse that was soon joined in by others in the class. We didn’t change our minds, either of us, but we were both heard, and I received an A in the class because in my papers I could cite sources and make cases for my statements. I had one of the best learning experiences from someone I had least in common with opinion-wise.

That’s called intellectual discourse, and to be perfectly frank, there’s little to find that is intellectual about our current Governor or Lt. Governor, in my opinion. Although your mileage may vary and you want to attack me or my viewpoint because you disagree with me, please save it. I respect your right to disagree, and you go vote for your folks and I’ll vote for whomever I wish. No harm, no anger. Now, can we get back to the point of the matter, which is the future of Texas A&M University? You do not have to be a Republican or a Democrat, a liberal or a conservative, or any label to be a good leader, whether Texas A&M or the state of Texas. You have to be a critical thinker, though.

Democrat John Sharp is today still “the sharpest guy in the room” (No pun intended) because he did the ONE thing for Texas A&M that will be his most important legacy for the 73-year-old Aggie and career politician who will be forever remembered for SAVING TENURE at Texas A&M. When the less than intellectually gifted Lt. Governor threatened tenure for new hires at state universities he was playing with fire, so much so that he honestly didn’t realize what that would do to destroy Texas higher education forever. Sharp did and he was able to “do what he does” and build consensus quickly.

Tenure is the only thing that academics have as guarantees that they can teach without interference. If they commit moral or ethical infractions, tenure does not protect them, and they can be fired. But if they teach their curriculum their way, they cannot be punished or censured, or censored. Most teachers allow for differing viewpoints, despite what you may think.

And John Sharp saved not only Texas A&M but all Texas institutions of higher education, and he’s not been given as much as a gold watch or a plaque for doing it. He saved tenure! Yet he’s just had multiple headaches, one after another, because one of his hires has been refocusing repeatedly wrong actions and bad judgment onto Texas A&M for the past many weeks now.

Here’s the good news: Kathy Banks as engineering dean introduced the concept of professors of practice into several teaching classrooms, bringing real-world experiences into the classroom to benefit students. She helped grow and increase funding for research at A&M’s Engineering extension and experiment stations and Sharp’s dream of the RELLIS campus and expanded our level of national involvement in important research.

However, the bad news: Sharp having appointed two female (named as) superdeans (Banks and former Vet School Dean, Eleanor Green) was likely not a good idea because it elevated two women above extremely capable men who directed other important colleges, namely Agriculture and Business as just two examples. That sets up unnecessary contention, but no one asked my opinion so there’s that.

When the university finally was free of M. K. Young and his bride (who had a little office inside her husband’s office), appointing Banks as president was something I called (I even won an iced tea because I saw it before some of my pals did) as a no-brainer. You have someone you can work with, plus you share a vision of Texas A&M taking over the state in prominence and the sky’s the limit, right? But the series of missteps that followed showed where it really takes someone who truly understands the hearts and minds of Aggies to truly lead this place.

You have to introduce new ideas with strength and conviction, build consensus, and then share why it will benefit all in the long run. Banks failed to do that. In fact, she grew so powerful so quickly that she didn’t appear to need much of a reason to be a benevolent leader and she didn’t seem to stay closely in touch with the Distinguished Professors group whose mission it is to be a great sounding board when you want to take programs in a new or different direction. They’re a free knowledge base of wisdom that people who are smart seek out and listen to. She entirely ignored the Faculty Senate and frankly, that was ignorant.

I have no way of knowing for sure, but I’m guessing that they didn’t hear any questions about combining the colleges of arts and sciences or hiring the giant consulting firm to study changes that should be made. It was an ill-fated plan from the get-go and so absolutely pointless and unnecessary, in my opinion. Other, far wiser, people may disagree and if they are in power, then more power to them to make it happen.

In watching the travesty of Kathleen McElroy ’81 unfold, I have been in tears, angry, and sick to be an alumnus of a school who would dare to treat one of our own, much less any woman, like this. Paying $1,000,000 is nothing to an institution that treats millions like peanuts (e.g., football salaries) but that we lost an AGGIE who wanted to come back and rejuvenate a program that Banks had already helped bury is unconscionable.

It is true that (shown in text messages between two Aggie regents and Banks) where the regents note that Banks assured them that training more conservative Aggie journalists was the mission of our school in the future. And simply to accept that this was the plan all along? I need Pepto-Bismol. I add my apologies to those who have expressed them to Professor McElroy for the botched attempted hire and all the insults she endured. All who were complicit and guilty in this fiasco should just save A&M the effort and resign and go someplace where more people think the way you do, so you don’t have to fear anyone not liking you or your idea.

Even more stunningly tragic is the Tribune's report:

"According to the internal report A&M released Thursday, Banks received calls from six to seven regents after Texas Scorecard, a conservative website, wrote an article about McElroy that painted her as a 'DEI proponent' for her prior research to improve diversity in newsrooms. Board member Sam Torn emailed a quote from the article to board Chair Bill Mahomes stating he wanted an explanation before he could approve McElroy's tenure...The internal report revealed that Banks was heavily involved in behind-the-scenes discussions to walk back the original offer to McElroy, contradicting Banks' public statements that she had no knowledge of changes to the offer."

It's breathtaking that so many spineless people are in positions of power, particularly to the point where they can destroy the solid foundation that has existed for so long. And yet, here we are, and it's not just one isolated incident.

As for Prof. Joy Alonso and that fiasco, could our state at last be free of the reign of terror that we all continue to have to endure? Is one man and his perceived status as sufficiently wise qualified to be a dictator?

Finally, as with all things Aggie, the one thing we always have is hope. That’s what the late Education Prof. John Hoyle used to tell us in our Educational Futures class: “The Aggies always have hope.” That applies to more than just the football team. We’ve had enough “stinkin’ thinkin’ as he used to call it, to last a decade. Today, we can celebrate the entry of Gen. (Ret’d.) Mark A. Welsh III as Interim President of Texas A&M.

In my opinion, there is no one better to lead our university out of this deep morass of embarrassment and back into prominence than President Welsh. His career with the U.S. Air Force is sufficient proof of his leadership skill, yet his success as Dean of the Bush School of Government and Public Service is further testament to being the right person at the right time for Texas A&M, in fact just in the nick of time. He led an Air Force that featured highly qualified men and women as fighter pilots, teams of culturally and ethnically diverse service personnel who likely belong to groups in their own time that comprise a wide spectrum of beliefs.

You know, when you’re in the midst of battle in the air or fighting in a fox hole on the ground, the only thing on your mind is to do your job and protect your team, no one left behind. That’s the basic principle of education—no child left behind. As it should ever be. There is no need to fear. The Aggies are here to stay—all of us. God bless us all and continue to keep us safe from those who would choose to lead by fear.

[Note: Post updated to include reference source from Texas Tribune re text messages between TAMU Regents and former President Banks.]

Monday, May 22, 2023

The Eagle Begins a Rapid Descent Into the Abyss

Keeping score of “Unpopular business decisions in Bryan-College Station,” today’s announcement in the opinion column of The Eagle zoomed to Number 1, but two more run a close second and third. More on those others later.

Since 2020 when Lee Enterprises took over The Eagle and others of Warren Buffet’s giant media sources, it joined what today is the “family” of “nearly 350 weekly and specialty publications serving 77 markets in 26 states,” seemed at first to be a good thing to be in the family with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the Omaha World-Herald, and nwi.com among other of their brands. And yet, it’s been a disaster.

Never mind the soap opera through the years but when The Eagle’s editor, Darren Benson, was laid off one month ago and Steve Boggs, the editor of the Waco Tribune-Herald took over as Regional Editor of BOTH the Waco Tribune-Herald and The Eagle, one promise was “The Eagle Media Company’s newsroom and advertising teams will remain at The Eagle and not oursourced to the Waco Tribune-Herald.”

It was just March 14 when I called the local number for The Eagle as I’d received an e-mail that my digital subscription renewal price of $5.00/mo to $14.07/mo with the explanation: “The new price reflects our value as the unmatched No. 1 source for local news and sports coverage of the city and surrounding region.”

I dialed and the person answered, “Waco Tribune-Herald, how may I direct your call?” I said, “I called The Bryan Eagle, I’d like to talk to them.” She said, “Yes, this is the Waco Tribune-Herald and we can handle your question.” I said, “For The Eagle?” and she said, “Yes.” I said, "I’d like to cancel my digital subscription to the paper because of the 150% price increase." She said, “Let me connect you with online subscriptions.”

“Waco Tribune-Herald,” the new operator said, and I repeated “I’d like to cancel my digital subscription when it’s up at the end of May.” She replied, “What’s your phone number and address?” I gave her those items, and added my name, not that she was interested. I had a minute to reread The Eagle e-mail’s list of promises for what they were “continue to” deliver in the new price structure:

• Breaking news as it happens • Award-winning photography and slideshows • New Podcasts and video stories • The latest food and dining reviews • Best-in-class coverage of your favorite sports teams

I shook my head to think that I’d stopped buying copies of the daily paper at $2.00/issue and then the Sunday paper at double that (at first before going up again) after they'd been $.75/issue and $1.25 on Sundays.

A five-minute negotiation session began when I simply asked them not to renew my digital subscription for $14.07/mo as I’d been paying $52 for the prior year’s digital subscription. From $52 to $168.84? She offered me three lower rates over the phone each time I did not agree to continue my subscription. She even took me back to the same rate that I had now as an offer for a year. I declined, noting that it was unfair to correct the bills of only those who called to cancel. Why not leave the rates as they were and try to build new followers at a similarly fair price? I was not contentious or sarcastic.

And, I noted they were not even a local accounting office to speak with. We’re the home community to Texas A&M University, by enrollment the second largest college in the United States, and we don’t even merit the regional office location? Fascinating. Today, on p. A11, Steve Boggs claimed that “in the Brazos Valley, they’d grown their digital customers more than 35% over the past 12 months alone!” That was before the big digital price increase. Let’s watch what happens to their numbers with today's announced price changes.

Waco’s population is estimated as 141.997 (the 24th largest city in Texas). Bryan’s population is estimated at 89,017 (46th largest) and College Station is 121,009 (29th largest) and together, B-CS is 268,248 people without students per the 2020 census. Check the math but it doesn’t make sense. Why is the regional leadership in Waco, not in Bryan-College Station?

Today, when the Steve Boggs’ opinion column (on p. A11) announced the new plan to print three days a week, deliver by U.S.P.O. vs. a friendly, longtime carrier who wakes up at 1 am to support their family with their route, a price increase of 150% over last year for the digital (you can’t blame this on the price of ink and paper as bandwidth isn’t that expensive), and what did, let’s Regional Editor Steve, promise? Not that we know Steve, have ever met Steve, or have even once seen Steve, because he neither lives nor works here; what did he promise?

He said, “They” are:

• “Still a team of dedicated local journalists who work for a local news company. • Still care deeply about our readers. • We live here, we work here, we are part of the fabric of this community. And. • We couldn’t do this vital work without you and your financial support of local news. • Every dollar counts—for you, and for our news organization—and your commitment allows us to sustain and grow local journalism in this community.”

Breaking news overnight will not appear in the morning’s paper unless it occurs on Monday, Wednesday or Saturday nights. But wait, that’s not really the case. Recently the way that funeral homes could submit obituaries to appear in the paper for families changed. They stopped staffing that office on weekends, so death notices and obituaries would not appear until at least Tuesday after the weekend unless you got it in before Friday. Good luck to those in the in-between gap periods. That’s just not right.

In fact, it was ridiculous, and every funeral home in town has been inconvenienced by that change, not to mention their ever-rising costs that the families have to pay for what used to be a public service at no charge. Wedding announcements and funeral notices used to be a courtesy—remember that? Remember when the publisher of The Eagle would grant amazing amounts of space to advertise upcoming fundraising events as community partners and media sponsors? It wasn’t that long ago.

Times change and prices change. That’s understandable. An online subscription to the Houston Chronicle is $20/month. The Dallas Morning News is similarly $20/mo. But they still have daily carrier-delivered newspapers, they have not wrecked their choice of comic strips, nor have they removed the all-important TV grid from the daily listings, three reasons we had to look forward to the paper. We’d already had the loss of the TV guide for several months now.

Forget saying happy birthday to the young athlete whose photo appears on the sports pages each day. KBTX-TV will still include that for you on the morning show. Forget looking for coverage of local sporting events on non-print days Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. They promise more “watchdog journalism” on their three print days—Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays and a reading experience “bursting with local news and opinions.”

Letters to the Editor, of course, will be hit or miss with spotty reading depending on your subscription path. Any chance to hold local officials accountable for decisions and votes might drift over to TexAgs or MyBCS or other new local bulletin board site for news that could pop up in weeks/months to come.

In my more than four decades of Eagle readership here as a community resident and citizen, no matter who has owned the newspaper before, I truly believe that everyone did their best to bring the news and reflect the community values of our special combined cities that comprise the entire Brazos Valley — until now.

This entire traumatic development did not occur overnight. It’s been particularly in the last ten years of the Warren Buffet-led demise. Buffet’s Berkshire-Hathaway bought The Eagle in 2012 with a circulation of 20,000 and close to 100 employees. At the time it had been an important community presence for the preceding 123 years.

In 2020, Lee Enterprises bought 30 papers from the Berkshire-Hathaway Media Group after Buffet had helped bail Lee Enterprises out of bankruptcy some years prior and then still retained a level of ownership in Lee Enterprises, though to a lesser extent. At the time TV station KXXV reported Buffet as saying he was a “lifelong fan of newspapers but …expects most of them to continue on their declining trajectory, save for a handful of national papers.” Sort of like throwing the candy wrapper over the edge of your boat while you’re sailing, you don’t care what happens to the water after you’re back on land.

The only employee that I can think of who has lasted throughout the duration of some three decades, whose presence used to identify The Eagle to the community is Robert Borden. Since October 1986, Robert Borden has worked at The Eagle; that’s almost 37 years, friends…he’s the Opinions Editor, you know him as head writer for the Sunday Arts Watch (after longtime staffer Jim Butler left), he’s on the Editorial Board.

That was the same editorial board where former colleague Margaret Ann Zipp once served with him and penned her fun “It’s Like This” column of local news in addition to being a copy editor—a position woefully long since forgotten, and finally, a reporter, who I won’t name, who had his home broken into and his hard drive stolen once while pursuing a local investigative story, but still stayed there and published stories anyway for another two years. He embodied free speech and investigative journalism at a time when it was not popular to criticize the university for fear of advertising dollars at risk.

Then, there was a young, determined reporter who took on early investigative stories and pursued them relentlessly, won awards, and ultimately became editor–Kelly Brown. She stayed for almost three decades before she saw the handwriting and jumped over to TAMU, and that was the end of hard-hitting stories in The Eagle.

And, my favorite former Editor and Publisher, Donnis Baggett, who wasn’t afraid to print stories that might not be flattering because they were newsworthy and relevant. He was good under pressure and he unnerved more than a few city officials back in the day when all the contracts and agreements saw the disinfecting light of day. So many people have forgotten those days because well...football, and Aggie Park, and well, football.

You know what all four of these named stalwart journalists had in common? You’d see them throughout the community, constantly. They attended the events we read about. They knew the leaders they wrote about. They volunteered countless hours of their own time across numerous key volunteer-driven nonprofits here. Each of us benefited from the work they did off the job as much as the work they did on the job.

Robert Borden, the last one standing, has written countless beautiful obituary tributes and reflections over key citizens in our community, noting with ease their achievements and things that were important to them, because he knew them, had more than just met them. He’s a champion of the Brazos Valley Symphony Orchestra and served in numerous leadership positions, he keeps people aware of the greatness of Brazos Valley Troupe and other organizations that don’t always have automatic audiences without a little help. He’s served on the board of the Brazos Valley Food Bank and countless other things you don’t see or know of. Most of all, he’s survived every administrative change that has been made in the past 37 years.

If things continue at The Eagle the way they appear to be going, with no one rising up as a private citizen to purchase it and set it back on a reasonable, normal course of operation, nor engendering community support vs. community disgust, it will undoubtedly be Robert Borden that writes the final opinion on the last day the paper appears in print. It doesn’t have to be this way. The story doesn’t have to end this way. You just don’t take something that has been “working” continuously since 1889 and project its demise and mumble that it’s just a darned shame things turned out this way.

Surely there is fire in someone’s soul to pursue fixing this problem. Those who believe in a free press, those who know the relevance of reporting the truth before someone like Elon Musk replaces Jack Dorsey and starts ruining everything about the platform his predecessors worked hard to build (and maintain at an appropriate level of oversight); someone must be out there to right this ship before we sing "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" again. Ask yourselves who it is that should oversee, and daresay protect, the public from one-sided journalism that just pleases certain elected officials?

Will it now be a mouthpiece of the wit and wisdom of say, Dan Patrick [aka Dannie Scott Goeb], sportscaster turned senior-citizen-intolerant, genius, who wants to upend Texas education by abolishing tenure at Texas state universities? That's a second disaster in waiting...when people who possess no postgraduate academic credentials nor have achieved tenure at a purportedly scholarly university start making decisions about how and when it should be applied or removed, folks, that's trouble in River City.

And, if The Eagle continues on its wildly erratic descent into oblivion, you certainly won't read the opinions of anyone who disagrees with dear old Dan and if you have a complaint, just call...Waco? Surely not. The Faculty Senate has tried repeatedly to point out the dangers, but you're not seeing a vast number of stories that truly bring to light what the genuine issues are and what it means in dollars, reputations, faculty retention, attracting the best and brightest students, and the true future reputation of Texas A&M University. Your most current and newsworthy reporting about this topic of tenure is on WTAW-AM and in its morning headlines in your e-mail boxes.

There is always hope. For those who care about our community and preserving the best of its small-town charm in an ever-growing culture of a once highly regarded academic institution, although it has always been beloved (there's a difference)—someone can make a difference. Asked “what can just one person do?” The answer is PLENTY. Hoping a few of you who are so inclined will band together to save The Eagle before it’s too late and we lose so many of our prestigious faculty who are unknown by name to most folks in town outside the campus. The issue means everything to the future of this university as well as all state universities.

Otherwise, soon the headlines will read: RIP The Eagle and "Texas A&M experiences sudden substantial faculty losses, drop in enrollment expected"

Tuesday, May 16, 2023

ABC is Oblivious to Potential of “The Company You Keep”

For some unknown reasons, Vicki Dummer, the whiz-bang exec at ABC programming land, and her team in charge of current series programming has “opted not to renew for a second season” of their new drama “The Company You Keep,” as reported in Deadline Season.

Given its entry at 10pm EST Sunday nights, it was up against the final season of the beloved NBC series “The Blacklist,” so it was barely given a flying chance of survival from the onset. The cast of “The Company” is solid: Milo Ventimiglia has the lead, William Fichtner, Catherine Haena Kim, Polly Draper, and Tim Chiou. However, the competition is really tough: "The Blacklist" has (said in William Shatner voice ala Denny Crane: "James Spader." so there's that.

But they're concluding the series run after 10 years, and at the exact right time. Spader himself knew when to close the doors: I think if the show went beyond this year, it would turn into a very different show, and I think the thing that has been nice about this show was that we've never really had a clear paradigm for the show. Tonally the show shifts a lot from episode to episode, and I think even the show has taken strange turns, and I suspect that the show, if it went much further, would just become something that would be less recognizable to me." Ah, if only the "NCIS" folks were self-aware of where they are.

WILLIAM FICHTNER, SARAH WAYNE CALLIES, POLLY DRAPER, MILO VENTIMIGLIA, FELISHA TERRELL, CATHERINE HAENA KIM, TIM CHIOU, FREDA FOH SHEN, JAMES SAITO166161_PR_Comp_V4 THE COMPANY YOU KEEP – ABC’s “The Company You Keep” stars William Fichtner as Leo, Sarah Wayne Callies as Birdie, Polly Draper as Fran, Milo Ventimiglia as Charlie, Felisha Terrell as Daphne, Catherine Haena Kim as Emma, Tim Chiou as David Hill, Freda Foh Shen as Grace Hill, and James Saito as Joe Hill. [Photo: ABC/Brian Bowen Smith]

The plot is fresh, albeit as an American adaptation of an already hit show (“My Fellow Citizens”) on South Korean television. You have an Italian American family with a skill for working as a family on high-level con jobs while running the neighborhood favorite bar. No staffing issues required for the job to hire out, just immediate family, down to the youngest teen. Young adult male falls for a model-lovely young female CIA agent, from “an Asian American political dynasty.”

The plots are fresh, the writing is solid, and the pace is strong. Scene to scene, you don’t flip the channel during commercials as you might miss something when you return late. The acting is strong from all cast members, major to minor. Action sequences abound at breathtaking pace, and then you relax at the corner bar; no. the bar owned by the Nicoletti family really is called “The Corner Bar” in the show. Kudos go to Ben Younger, who serves as director and executive producer for the 20th Television show.

Writer and Executive Producer Julia Cohen brings together a great cast, solid sets, and just the right blend of scripts, serving as showrunner, to keep audiences coming back each week. Co-showrunner and co-Executive Producer is Phil Klemmer ("DC's Legends of Tomorrow" for seven seasons). This is Cohen’s largest task to date, but she earned her stripes after years as co-executive producer for a season of “Quantico” and “A Million Little Things” for three seasons. Given the nature of shows being posted and pulled as quickly from prime time slots as a teenage fisherman learning to cast with rod and reel, having one season of a solid show should indicate potential. And the fact that you can stream the show on Hulu is an added bonus for those with busy schedules. It has all the right elements but is just waiting until "The Blacklist" concludes its tenth and final season this month.

Yes, there’s Amazon and Sony Pictures and other independent venues out working for viewing time. I have to confess to waiting for another season of “Leverage: Redemption” to appear on Freevee television. The successful reboot of the old TNT original “Leverage” is actually stronger than the first, thanks to Dean Devlin’s fresh take on the show he created. Again, plots were fresh, bright and the actors were dynamic in their approach to what could have been predictable dialogue. There was a family atmosphere there as well. Waiting for hopefully more shows with "the hitter, the hacker, the grifter, and the thief," and if you want to know what that means, just visit Freevee.

Another Freevee original is the Canadian “Pretty Hard Cases” that pairs two previously unknown actresses as an unlucky pair of detectives and it works. The show has humor, brains, and they get it all done neatly, thanks to strong writing by Tassie Cameron and Sherry White, and two actresses, Meredith MacNeill and Adrienne C. Moore, who bring the energy to each episode. Still waiting on more shows to drop, if they're in production yet. That happens with non-prime-time network shows where they don't tell you on every media outlet they own what's going on behind the scenes.

It is that same fresh-show quality that “The Company You Keep” has, in a dramatic procedural where audiences meet, learn, know, and grow along with the show. Donald Bellisario was a genius at developing these shows that featured humor along with detective work, action sequences, some aspect of military life, and yes, family. Bellisario brought us “JAG,” “NCIS,” “Quantum Leap” and then spinoffs happened. Some were good; others, without Bellisario involved, were and are dreadful.

The starpower that Milo Ventimiglia brings to any show shouldn’t be in question. After all, his was the character you recall best from “This is Us,” the NBC staple that gave them a ratings win for the slot each week from 2016-2022 and won four Primetime Emmys among their awards. No one should be comparing Milo’s acting to “Gilmore Girls” any longer, which they could have done had they only known that show and missed out on “This is Us.”

It's doubtful that anyone watching “The Company You Keep” thinks of “Team Jess” once during the show. Actors can morph into anyone you need them to, and Ventimiglia and Kim do a great job in carrying the load.

Kim already had experience as a fed—she played Special Agent Emily Ryder on a season of “FBI” shows. A strong supporting cast is the great addition to the mix and this show has something special that doesn’t bore you to death the way so many other series can. No one is tired of their role or has been permanently cast into predictability. It's another trip back to childhood to see recurring guest Geoff Stults (remember the hearthrob with the almost twin lookalike brother in "Seventh Heaven" who wound up with the sisters?).

You’d think that summer would be a great time to re-introduce the show and meanwhile order some more episodes for fall. Everyone is about “American Idol”-ed, “The Voice”-ed and “America’s Got Talent”-ed out at this point and Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon are sitting there with fresh programming just waiting to be enjoyed. Come on ABC, think about it.

If not, CBS you are overdue for fresh shows. Look at the mess they made of “NCIS,” keeping the original (now sleep-inducing) show for the 21st year, cancelling the still interesting one (“NCIS: “LA”), and renewing the banal “NCIS-Hawaii” for reasons known only to them.

However, they hold the distinction of “America’s Most-Watched Network in Primetime” for 15 years now, so they know something NBC doesn’t. Hmm, could be the next home for “The Company You Keep”?

Is that your final answer for “The Company You Keep,” ABC? Change your mind and perhaps be pleasantly surprised. It would also be good news for Ventimiglia, who together with his company, DiVide Pictures and Russ Cundiff and Deanna Harris are co-producers. That was very "Jess" of him to be smart enough to invest in his own work from the beginning.

There’s more than one story of a show being tanked and saved to come back for another try, only to gain a Top 10 ratings spot and foothold for years and massive dollars in syndication: “Friends,” “Seinfeld,” and “The Big Bang Theory.”

Who knows? It could happen.

[photos Friends and Seinfeld: NBC Universal; NCIS: Paramount Press]

Monday, February 20, 2023

The Unending Heart of My Cousin, Whose Love Lives on Forever

On Monday afternoon, Feb. 13, in St. Louis, visitation was held for my cousin, Minor (it’s a family name), one of my 21 first cousins on my mother’s side of the family. The funeral was on Valentine’s Tuesday at 11 am. Rather than say “how strange to have a funeral on Valentine’s Day,” I can think of no better day than to see his life celebrated and remembered than on a day where love is shared and hearts are remembered. Minor’s heart was substantial, and his love was deep. It was just his way.

Because we all live so far apart, through the years, it was impossible to consider that we would have annual family reunions and everyone stay in touch. However, it was of great importance to my mother that I, as an only child, have a sense of “belonging to a large family.” After all, she grew up as one of eight siblings, the first five closest in age, and the others coming along during their teen years.

I was five years old when I went to St. Louis for the first Christmas at my grandparents’ home. I met five of my cousins that week, three brothers and a brother and a sister, and it was amazing to imagine that this only child was suddenly surrounded by “family.” Two years later I was back in St. Louis for the funeral of my grandfather. There were some more cousins there in addition to the ones I’d met, but frankly, it was a somber time. I now had to process a loss of a grandfather I barely knew together with meeting more people who were “my family” I barely knew.

Just as soon as I had family, it seemed I was losing them. I wasn’t ready for loss. But there was Minor, three years older than me, who sensed that I was alone out on an island of silence, wondering what was happening around me. He told me not to worry, that everything would be alright. He enlisted his next oldest brother, Donald, in joining him in teaching me how to play pool, in the basement of the family house. I found myself comforted, and lots of conversation ensued. Soon, my sorrow turned to a calm sense of “everything is going to be okay.” Minor sensed my pain and stepped up, with Donald, to keep me and their youngest brother Steve, so busy we didn’t have time to hurt. That was Minor, taking care.

The next time we were together was the death of their mother, their dad’s second wife, who had long battled a debilitating illness. We went back to St. Louis for the funeral and now I was a bit older. The boys hugged me when they saw me and somehow I found myself saying to them, “It’s going to be alright.” Minor, the oldest, was the strongest. I hurt most for them because their lives to that point had been anything but easy. From the time they were about eight years old and younger, they knew their dad was working hard at his day job and then when he came home, he cared for their mom.

Minor knew about all the medicines his mom took, helped cook, all the boys cleaned the house, and they managed to do well in school and even found time to play baseball. They stayed “out of trouble” because they knew everyone already had enough on their plates. They essentially raised themselves. As soon as Minor could mow the lawn he did. Soon, Donald was right there with him, and they started a lawnmowing business. Steve joined as soon as he was able. They worked all over the neighborhood and did well for themselves. They wanted to do something to help make a difference, realizing how hard times were.

Over the years, the brothers excelled at high school baseball, all of them. Minor attended all the games he could, and then their mother died. We went back to St. Louis, Mom and I, because that’s what you did for family. You showed up. You hugged and you cried together. My cousins were brave. My uncle’s heart was broken and it wasn’t easy, but still the brothers held it together, beautifully, because of Minor’s example. “Everything is going to be okay.” There in an act of superhuman strength, was Minor comforting his brothers, and now me. I believed him.

By the time Minor was close to finishing high school, he was offered a tryout with the St. Louis Cardinals. He was a power hitter, to be sure, and although he didn’t make the cut, it’s not often a childhood dream come true to just have the chance to try out. He took the disappointment well. After all, it’s what he did. Kept it inside for reassurance for the ones who looked to him for leadership; everyone assumed without a thought that everything was going to be okay. That was Minor. He bounced back.

He was a natural at math; everything came to him so easily; in fact, all three brothers were gifted in math. Still are today. Minor moved up in his job at the bank, from teller to eventually working in the vault. Eventually he signed up to enter the U.S. Navy. His dad had entered the Navy during wartime of WWII, and while a wartime experience was anything but easy for his dad, perhaps he had always wanted to travel and the Navy was one way to see the world, or at least it was what he hoped it would be. Donald and Steve drove to Texas while I was in college for a great visit and Minor wanted to go to Florida on his vacation, so he did. He needed a chance to do something for himself than give away every last minute “for family’s sake.” I’m glad he did.

The next gathering time was when my Grandmother passed away. Does this sound familiar? The only time many families “should be close” is the only time they seem to be—during periods of loss and sorrow. I have always loved families who gather together each year for food, fellowship, and remembrances of childhood. They just pick up where they left off. Laughter usually abounds, and hugs flow freely.

The three brothers were married not long thereafter; two of them are nearing their 50th annivesaries. I was still in school but we hoped to do a better job of getting together. Occasional phone calls helped and I’ll never forget that when I finished college, the first card that came was from Minor. He wrote me a four-page letter about how proud he was of me for finishing college. He caught me up on family news and frankly, I will never forget it because I felt like I really did have family, distance notwithstanding. I still have that letter.

His wife became pregnant with their first son, Seth, during his service and sadly, it was discovered that their little one was born with cerebral palsy. The young couple bravely tried to learn what to do and how to cope with the disease and Minor did his exercises with his little one every day. Ultimately, Seth only lived two years. Minor was devastated beyond any other passing in his life before. The grief had been building for years, no doubt. But who’s to say? I’m no professional. He received a medical discharge from the Navy and then set about trying to find life after when all his plans were crushed.

Minor and Debi gave birth to another son, Sean Michael, a few years later, and as soon as he could comprehend it, he knew he had an older brother but one who was no longer here on earth, a fairly daunting fact to process when you’re a little guy, but he followed the tradition of appearing stoic. When Minor and Debi divorced, times were not easy, but Minor was comfortable being a dad with his buddy Sean, but he was not quick to discipline him at first, as he loved him so much. He just didn’t want to lose him.

When Sean was four, Minor drove them down to “Texas” to see Aunt Marguerite and Dawn. Into the room walks this little towheaded blonde with the buzz cut, his steely blue eyes surveying his surroundings and wondering who Aunt Marguerite was and why Minor loved her. Mom assessed the little fellow’s disposition toward mischief and waited to see how things played out. Sean was brilliant and Minor was so proud. He kept addressing him as “Dad Junior,” because he’d always heard his mom refer to him as “Junior,” the family nickname for the eldest and namesake of their dad.

Mom decided he needed to show his dad more respect, and let him know that he should address his father as “Dad,” although it took a day or two for him to even think about whether he was going to. Meanwhile, Sean presented with a list of things he did and didn’t like about Houston. Most of all, he didn’t like being told what to do. We took them to some of the outdoor Houston attractions and restaurants, Minor and Sean enjoyed outdoor Houston life and it wasn’t long before Sean called Minor “Dad,” just Dad. Progress!

It was to be Easter weekend, so Mom and Minor took Sean shopping for some new Spring and Summer clothes. The “boys” looked dapper in their new outfits and Minor was proud of how Sean was growing up. Sean’s Mom had gotten him a contemporary haircut—a buzz cut, but he had a small rat tail at the back of his neck, gently indicating we might just have a tad of a rebel in the making.

At bathtime, we’d gotten Sean some Mr. Bubble bubblebath and a cool Mr. Bubble shampoo…he was patient as Minor and Mom were about to shampoo his head but he blurted out, “I don’t want any of that stuff on my head,” and both of them burst out laughing. His candor and self-awareness was refreshing. We took them to Dos Pesos Café for an authentic Mexican meal. Sean really liked the queso but when he reached for the salsa to try it, after one bite of the spicy stuff said, very loudly, “Yuck, I hate that stuff.” We laughed and quickly forgot about it as he returned to his queso.

Easter Sunday came and the four of us went to my Episcopal church in Galleria where I’d been living. On the drive over we prepared Sean for the process of communion where he would go up to the railing with us and cross his arms as he knelt at the altar and the priest would give him a blessing by placing his hand on his head as he went down the row.

Minor reminded him of what Aunt Marguerite had said right before we exited our pew to make the way to the front and Sean folded his little hands and approached the altar. Somewhere between seeing the adults around him open their hands and place them palms up as the priest and the communion assistant approached, the plan changed. Sean was kneeling at the altar, between his dad and my Mom, and I was to the right of my Mom. I saw what was coming, but it seemed to play out in slow motion. As I extended my hands palm forward and received the communion wafer, then Mom did, and then…Sean unfolded his hands and the communion assistant placed a wafer into Sean’s hands. Uh oh!

Taking his cue from seeing us place the wafers in our mouths, Sean followed suit. Apparently he didn’t like the taste. I saw the look come over his face and I knew what was about to follow. He said (loudly), “Yuck, I hate thaa-at!” and just as soon as that happened, both Mom and Minor clamped their free hands over Sean’s mouth as they saw the priest gently rocking from laughter (apparently he had grandchildren).

After the chalice went down the row, and we exited back to the congregation, I happened to notice two men standing near the wall, wearing trenchcoats, in mid spring. They had quiet smiles on their faces and seemed amused…remembering that this, too, was the home church of our 41st U.S. President and his family and as it was Easter, they were back in town and the trenchcoats were being worn by the Secret Service.

My eyes scanned that row as I made my way back to my seat and I saw the President and his wife smiling broadly, in a most understanding fashion. They had grandchildren, too, and could empathize. We were all relieved to make our way back to anonymity in the pews. Until this day, Sean never knew who else was there in church with us. So far, it has been my favorite Easter memory.

Little Sean grew up into a little guy playing t-ball and soccer and moved into other sports, and Minor was able to watch him, proudly. Yet, Sean's life was anything but easy; growing up these days is a challenge on its own, much less considering extraneous factors. He was born into a family that was strong on love but short on health. Minor lost his own Mom pretty early in his life and then as Sean was growing up, he saw his own Dad acting as a caregiver to his grandfather.

After Minor Sr. passed away, the family collected again together in grief to pay final respects for the loss of a beloved father and grandfather. Still, Sean was too young to know how to process loss, but he’d certainly sustained enough to last a lifetime. Sorrow just seemed to be in the air and seeing his own dad go through different emotions at different times could not have been easy. Both of them tried but they both had a touch of stubborness in them that made them almost identical in that fashion.

After the loss of his dad, Minor Jr. drove Sean back to Texas. This time they seemed to be doing really well together, and Sean spoke respectfully to his Dad. This time I was in College Station and working on campus. I took him to work with me one morning and my Dean came down the hall. I wasn’t sure “which” Sean would show up that day. But of course. My Dean extended his hand to Sean when I introduced them and Sean wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t shake his hand nor speak. I said, “Sean, the Dean spoke to you. Say “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Sean looked at me, clenched his lips together, folded his arms and shook his head “no.” I shook my head too and said, “Sorry, boss, he didn’t come with an instruction manual.”

The Dean laughed and said “No worries, I’m one of 7 and we all have grandkids. It’s just a phase.” Before I was ready to lecture him, my office colleague, Portia, walked up and saved the day. She said, “Cowabunga” as she stared at him. He stared back, unfolded his arms and said, “Cowabunga, Dude” as he gave her a high five. Befuddled, I looked at Portia as she explained to the Dean and me, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I speak Kid.” Laughter followed.

And before I could ask who they were (remember a day before Google existed?), he listed all four of them for me, expecting that I would commit their names to memory. Yes, Sean, I still remember them. Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael--the Renaissance artists). The info came in handy 30 years later when I was in a discussion with my own adoptive grandson, age 6. I've had to learn a lot more superhero names these past years but one never relinquishes the joy of being taught by someone under the age of 12.

Another memory was taking Minor to a Texas Aggie baseball game, which I thought he’d love. He did. The tickets I’d been gifted found us seated next to my boss, Ken, who was a retired Air Force Colonel. He and Minor began discussing the game and I heard Ken ask him where he lived and what he did. He said, “I’m from St. Louis and I’m a Disabled American Veteran.” Ken, in a heavenly moment, knew exactly what to say, “God bless you, Son, and thank you for your service.” Minor smiled and they shook hands. I hid my tears that day.

Minor, the invincible, the hero, the cape-wearing strength of the family had no difficulty identifying with a medical condition that rendered him “disabled.” Life, illness, loss, sorrow, and grief had overtaken his fresh, sharp mind and he needed others to make the big decisions for him in life. He accepted the help and guidance of his younger brothers and sisters-in-law as graciously as one could expect.

For the past 30 years, Minor has lived geographically between the two brothers, in his own home, because crowded living communities didn’t give him a choice of when or if he could be alone, which was vital to his peace of mind at times. He was included in all the family activities and celebrations, and he also really enjoyed hosting high school friends and family at backyard BBQs. He'd call to tell me he'd cleaned his house thoroughly and Steve and Brenda had taken him grocery shopping to entertain and stocked the place with burgers, chips, sodas, and beer.

Those times made it possible for cousins to visit and stay close and he was good at mowing his own yard in the rural part of the city he lived in. Baseball season (the Cardinals) was always eagerly anticipated. Donald and Becky had him over to their home frequently and the brothers were happiest when all three of them were together. The devotion the three of them shared all of their lives is indescribable and it is a more powerful bond than any other I've seen to compare. They loved being with their older sister and family from Minor's first marriage when times presented the gatherings.

Six years ago, one of my precious “boys” who’d grown up across the street from me graduated from high school and enlisted in the Navy with a six-month wait before deployment. He was going out on his own to see the world and find his place in it. I wanted to give him a gift but what? Then it came to me. Minor had enlisted in the Navy, yes many years ago. I called Minor and asked him if he wouldn’t mind writing my neighbor about what it was like for him, one of three brothers in the house (also with an older sister) who broke away to find a path.

He started writing the minute we hung up the phone and within three days I had a thick envelope with a magnificent handwritten note for my new sailor. He did a beautiful job of writing an honest, informative, and solid explanation of enlisted life. Minor was telling my young neighbor that, in essence, everything would be alright. But, of course. He’d been comforting all of us all of our lives. Minor was the strong one, the one everyone looked to for answers, even after you might think he didn’t have any left to give. He did.

Every family faces difficulties and challenges. Most of them happen with no one writing about them because frankly, it’s a personal battle and everyone does the best they can. The only way I know how to process my personal grief is to write and to tell the story of a life well lived, and then I find peace. Yet, it’s hard for me to see this as the end of Minor’s life. Today is his birthday and he died two weeks shy of his 69th birthday.

Yes, it's an ending. But, it’s really the beginning of his newly restored mind, body, and spirit. Today he’s reunited with his mother and father, and with his first son, Seth, that he’d waited so many years to see. He lived long enough to see his son, Sean, grown up with a son of his own, a fine young man whom any Dad could be proud of.

What he has that is the greatest treasure was a lifetime of knowing his Dad, as best as anyone could, as a loving, caring, devoted father. Not every day could he say “yes” to everything Sean wanted, but when he said, “no,” he did what he knew to be in his best interests. Sean is not alone in this world. He has loving uncles, cousins, and “family” galore, but most of all, he has the best of his father in him. His heart is his best gift.

Minor lived long enough to watch his son, Sean, grow up and find his way around love, and to have a son in his own life--a young lookalike named Dylan, whose presence in their lives assured the continuation of his father’s line, two generations past ours, joining the three other sons and daughters who are his cousins.

My aunt was sweet enough to send pictures of the graveside military honors that were held for Minor:

Sean accepted the flag folded by representatives of the military with dignity and respect. All at once he understood what all those years ago what he couldn’t…the honor of serving your country without expectation of anything in return.

Another cousin gifted me with a picture of two generations of “the boys” on Minor’s immediate family’s side. Not all of them were together, of course, but there was a strong contingency.

Going forward, Sean will never feel a day in the future where he feels alone, because there will always be someone in his family nearby to him. He will work hard to preserve the family “ties” and he will remember that he is, and was, forever loved.

Thursday, February 9, 2023

Burt Bacharach Always Gave Us His Best

If I asked you to “Name a Burt Bacharach Song,” there’s no doubt in my mind that you could come up with one immediately, whether you first learned of his work in the 1950s or three more decades beyond. News of his passing at the age of 94 just broke hours ago on the American Songwriter blog.

There’s no question that a Bacharach composition is going to be a theme of love—whether love won, love lost, searching for love, or giving up on love…Burt WAS love, or at least one of its best emissaries. What do you do when you can’t find the right words to put in a heartfelt wish on a blank card, or how do you tell someone that you’re going to recover from the hole in your heart that you’re feeling now? A Bacharach song is always a good idea. He had one for everyone.

[Photo: Milan Italy 26/10/2008, live concert of Burt Bacharach at the Arcimboldi Theater. Used with permission]

As he is best remembered, a YouTube creator was kind enough to compile a “Barbra Sings Burt Bacharach-Hal David Songbook,” so click and let it play and walk back in time to your childhood, all you Baby Boomers, and some of his best work is there.

On this next YouTube, “What’s New Pussycat?” (Tom Jones) and Alfie (Cilla Black and Dionne Warwick),” as only Barbra Streisand can deliver them reminds you immediately of who they were the big hits for: “Close to You” (The Carpenters), “One Less Bell To Answer” (Fifth Dimension) and more.

Think of singer Dionne Warwick and you can immediately call to mind, “Walk on By,” “I Say a Little Prayer (for you),” “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” and “What Do You Get When You Fall in Love?” Then you’d also call to mind the name Hal David, Burt’s most prolific co-writer over the years. Together they were the dynamic duo.

Beyond writing, though, you could always find that Burt could sing his own songs and compel your heart to heal as anyone who might have shared his work on their own record labels. But when others brought them to life, there’s no denying what the difference is between catchy tune and solid gold. Take for example, “Arthur’s Theme,” the theme song for the Dudley Moore movie, “Arthur.” Four writers are credited: Burt Bacharach, Carole Bayer Sager, Christopher Cross, and Peter Allen (not necessarily in that order).

Yet, how do you share credit? Who writes what in that situation? As the story goes, it was Peter Allen who came up with “When you get caught between the moon and New York City” (he was on a plane "stuck in a holding pattern" at New York's JFK Airport). That phrase was the hitmaker because simply “made the song.” However the collaboration, it’s Christopher Cross’ voice and all the lyrics and the complete melody and arrangement that had people all singing about the moon, New York City, and “the best that you can do is fall in love.” And it certainly helped box office ticket sales to be sure.

“On My Own” sounded “sweet” when Carole Bayer Sager and Burt Bacharach were sharing it, here, but according to Songfacts, they’d promised it to Patti LaBelle, who loved the song. but when the rich sound of Michael McDonald came shining through, together with Dionne Warwick, it simply MADE the song. That’s what incredible songwriters can do…they are the “assist” to the slam dunk of a golden hit that the song stylist can take from memorable to unforgettable.

While Burt was married to Carole Bayer Sager for nine years, their compositions together were heartfelt gold. From that pairing one special gem was, “That’s What Friends Are For,” which brought the collaboration of Dionne Warwick, Gladys Knight, Stevie Wonder, and Sir Elton John.

Burt said it all for so many when nothing less would do. His memory, and his music, live on forever, thank goodness, and thank you God, for Burt Bacharach.