John Ford: Tough Guy, Filmmaker, American

“My name is John Ford. I am a director of Westerns.” That’s how Ford described himself at a Screen Directors Guild meeting in 1950. It is a simple enough statement upon first glance, but like Ford’s work it is not so simple when examined more closely. It is however a good introduction to the iconic director who turned the Western into an art form.

John Ford – circa 1920

 

When he made that laconic introduction, he had won three Best Director Oscars for The Informer, The Grapes of Wrath, and How Green Was My Valley. All three of these films were prestigious literary adaptions but not Westerns. At the time, the Western was considered to be an inferior genre, comprable to dime-store romance novels. Why then would Ford identify himself with it?

I’ll get to that in a moment, Pilgrim, but let me say a few words about John Ford as way of introduction, so hold your horses. Literally,

John Ford’s films get consistently included in lists of the best movies ever made. He won four Oscars for Best Director, a record that no one has yet surpassed. Frank Capra was a friend, and Orson Welles was a big admirer; The story goes that Orson watched Stagecoach over 40 times in preparation for Citizen Kane. Other filmmakers who list Ford as influence include Akira Kurosawa, George Lucas, and Martin Scorsese.

The Searchers – 1956

 

Yet John Ford’s films tend to be a little different than what modern audiences have come to expect in a movie experience. They are glimpses into the lives of historical characters not roller coaster rides optimized around plot. Being such, the Ford films tend to unfold at a more leisurely pace, a pace that even Ford’s producers back then fought in vain to accelerate.

Also, in the words of Peter Bogdanovich, Ford is attracted to drama that communicates the “glory in defeat,” which takes some acclimation if you’re used to feeling like a winner every time you walk out of the theater. Still, there’s much to admire in a John Ford film, and I hope this overview will help you to better appreciate his work.

John Ford once told an interviewer, “When I come back from making a Western on location, I feel a better man for it.” He enjoyed being outdoors and working hard, he went on to explain, but there was more to it than that.

The Western also gave Ford an opportunity to explore his fascination with military men and frontier living, with American history and the fading traditions of the Old World, while trying to reconcile the contradictions in his soul.

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon – 1949

 

Ford’s cowboys are like his military men: defiant, courageous types with a distinct sense of honor who are trying to get a job done under challenging circumstances. In fact, the films in his Cavalry Trilogy, Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and Rio Grande, work as both Western and military films. The Cavalry was, after all, a division of the United States Army at the time.

Let’s not forget that in addition to his exceptional Westerns, Ford also made solid military films like Mister Rogers, They Were Expendable, and The Lost Patrol. The Long Gray Line is another one of his military films, an underrated one that I quite enjoyed.

It focuses on West Point, the renowned United States Military Academy,  and observes as the school turns a clumsy adolescent into an admirable man.  (I suspect that the Richard Gere’s An Officer and a Gentleman was at least indirectly influenced by The Long Gray Line, but I haven’t found any documentation about that.)

The notion of a boy becoming a man by responding well to adverse circumstances is a recurring one in Ford’s work. Another example worth mentioning occurs in Rio Grande when John Wayne’s son finally earns his dad’s respect after performing bravely in battle.

Battle of Midway, U.S. National Archives Collection – 1942

 

John Ford or Pappy, as he was sometimes called, didn’t just pay lip service to military men for the sake of his career. When the stakes mattered most, Ford volunteered to help, risking his life to document the war effort during World War II.

Now days when filmmakers shoot war films, they add camera shake as an effect to simulate combat. When John Ford shot his award-winning documentary The Battle of Midway, the camera shake is there because the enemy combatants were firing heavy artillery at his boat. He got injuring while shooting that film. How many other filmmakers would risk as much for the things they value?

In Ford’s 1937 film The Hurricane, Father Paul tells an oppressive Governor, “There are stronger things than governments in this world.” The hurricane of the film’s title makes it possible for the heroic, defiant Terangi to escape the Governor and prove true the words of Father Paul. Thus, nature allows a good man to escape the tyranny and corruption of the civilized world.

Sunrise – 1927

 

That’s another important theme to John Ford. He was greatly influenced by F. W. Murnau’s silent-film Sunrise, admiring it so much that he went to Germany and met its director.  In Murnau’s expressionistic masterpiece, the city and the country are treated as polar opposites.

The countryside represents all that is innocent, pure, and good. The city, on the other hand, represents all that is corrupt, decadent, and evil. Ford never took the polarity quite that far, but he did draw upon it.

(Maybe the exception to that is Hangman’s House. That silent-film of Ford’s goes so far as to confine its corrupt politician in a spooky house with a surreal fireplace. That whole film felt so much like a Edgar Allan Poe story that I kept waiting for a macabre raven to quoth.)

Still, Ford’s frontier is generally the stage where virtue is on display, and the city  tends to showcase corruption and hypocrisy. For example, in Stagecoach the travelers escape the judgmental, falsely pious society ladies in the city. Later they reveal their character or lack thereof in the frontier.

The Informer – 1935

 

The city in The Informer is a dark place where the fear of betrayal lingers, and in How Green Was My Valley the sense of community deteriorates as the town becomes more industrialized. In the movie, Mr. Gruffydd the good pastor and mentor to Huw, the central character, even declares, “Nature is the handmaiden of the Lord.” Etc.

That’s not to say that Ford is altogether opposed to civilization. With civilization comes law and order, dancing, and churches, all good things to Ford if uncorrupted, and in a Ford film the civilizing influence tends to be associated with a good woman.

The most obvious example of that happens in My Darling Clementine. When Clementine comes to town, she sets up a school to educate the locals. Wyatt Earp first connects with her when they attend a church-building ceremony that turns into a festive dance.

My Darling Clementine – 1946

 

Speaking of a church, now is as good of a time as any to mention the underlying sense of faith in Ford’s films. These days, the preference is to whitewash an artist’s religious beliefs into something generic like this: “he was a great humanitarian who really, truly, truly believed in the power of the human spirit.”   Stirring words, Pilgrim.

Sometimes that kind of generalization is appropriate, but not when faith is a central component in someone’s work, as it is for John Ford.

As a side note, a few years ago I read about some hipster gal who planned to do a sterilized adaption of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment  that was purged of any reference to religion. That would be like trying to retell Upton Sinclair’s novel The Jungle without the meatpacking industry. Dostoevsky should give that girl a good hard slap in the afterlife for that kind of attempted butchery.

Anyway, sometimes a sense of faith is implied in Ford’s films, but in films like The Informer, 3 Godfathers, and How Green Was My Valley, it is front and center. And partner, you’d have to be sleeping by the campfire to miss the religious metaphors in the Informer. The main character’s existence is a murky one until his religious experience in a church, a scene that is designed to bring to mind Christ’s lament on the cross, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.”

The Informer – 1935

 

That film is well regarded even today, but some critics complain that it is too literal in its symbolism. That line of critique strikes me as a little snobbish. Sometimes it is fun when a story’s higher meaning is hidden in Egyptian cuneiform, but sometimes an artist wants to make sure that as many viewers as possible get the point. I’ve been to the mountaintop, and I saw democracy at work, ladies and gentlemen! Honestly, do those same critics also complain that interstate road signs make finding desired exits less of an adventure?

Taken as a whole, Ford’s films have this sense that Providence is guiding the events of history. For a specific example see Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln, when Abe fortuitously receives a set of law books that will shape his interests or when he lets “the stick decide” an important career choice while paying respect to the grave of Ann Rutledge.

There’s a similar idea in Rio Grande. In that film, the final shoot out happens in a church, and the good guys shoot through an unsubtle cross-shaped opening. Through Christ, John Ford suggests, law and order will finally come to the wild west.

Believing in the guiding hand of God in the course of human events is not the same thing as having a Pollyanna outlook on life. As I suggested earlier, John Ford is often the poet for the defeated ones. It wouldn’t be a John Ford film if there wasn’t a sufficient amount of sadness in the mix.

Contrary to typical box-office fare, The Last Hurrah is about a politician who LOSES his last bid for political office. Cheyenne Autumn tells the tragic story of the Northern Cheyenne Exodus, where the Indians were tricked and pushed out of their land. Fort Apache looks at the senseless slaughter that sometimes happens when the man in charge thinks only of his own ambitions.

The Searchers – 1956

 

My favorite John Ford film, The Searchers, tells the story of Ethan Edwards, a man who pursues the band of Comanche Indians who killed and raped some of his loved ones. In spite of that gruesome context, the point of the film, as Peter Bogdanovich points out in his excellent commentary, is summed up by the line, “someday this’ll be a fine good place to live.”

In Sergeant Rutledge, another one of Ford’s films shot in Monument Valley, that same idea is expressed again in so many words: “But Mary it’s a good land, it really is. Maybe not now, but like Rutledge says, someday.”

Ford is well aware that America is an empire, like Rome, built upon tragedy right from the start, and yet he still believed that it was worth defending, that it COULD be something good. He’d show up in his Naval uniform at prominent events to broadcast that belief.

When others questioned the merits of his patriotism, he’d quote John Wayne as saying, “If you know of a better flag to wave, then wave it.”

The Searchers production still

 

Since we’re talking about The Searchers, someone should tell David Fincher that it is possible to make a great film about a difficult subject without addressing the disturbing aspects in explicit detail. All of the rape and violence against children in The Searchers takes place off screen, and I haven’t run into anyone who’s liked the film less as a result.

We’re getting closer to the end, folks. It is tricky to do justice to a filmmaker like John Ford in a short time. Thanks for being patient.

Let me conclude by using The Searchers to address both Ford’s greatest deficiency and his greatest gift. Most Ford commentators that I’ve read mention the importance of family in his films, and The Searchers is a shining example of that. The sense of joy or warm familiarity on-screen that happens when family members reunite is enough to make even the most jaded skeptic rethink his thoughts on marriage.

How tragic then, that John Ford was a horrible family man. Most biographers believe that he had numerous affairs with various starlets, perhaps even Katherine Hepburn.

His son struggled throughout his life, mostly in vain, to gain the attention of his father. His daughter became an alcoholic like her dad, and her first marriage ended quickly. Observers theorize that she lacked a solid point of reference for what a happy family could be like, so she just drew upon what she saw growing up.

 

My Darling Clementine – 1946

 

When Ford wasn’t shooting films, he was going on alcoholic benders, often ending up in the hospital. The story goes that alcohol was such a problem even early in Ford’s career that Samuel Goldwyn hired him to direct Arrowsmith in 1931 on condition that Ford not drink during the production. In response, John Ford sped up the shooting schedule.

That might sound amusing to someone who has never faced the heartbreaking realities of a loved one battling addiction. I assure you that it isn’t.

That discrepancy between Ford’s work and Ford’s life was tough for me to discover. I desperately want to find people who are consistent in their public and personal lives. Maybe that’s because some of the key people in my life lacked that consistency. Anyway, my knee-jerk reaction is to see nothing but the work of a hypocrite when I encounter that sort of discrepancy.

Things are rarely so simple though. Most of us have some seeming contradictions in our souls that we are trying to resolve in our own ways. Creative types tend to do that with work, and Ford was no different.

Some critics express surprise in the apparent contradictions between Ford’s work and Ford’s personal life, but there are enough clues in his films. Sure, there are tender family moments in his films, but more often then not, the films end with separation. The cowboy rides off into the horizon as his lady quietly ponders her future. The military man has to leave his girl behind as he tends to his duties.

Ford’s men are about as masculine as you get, but it is almost as if they don’t know how to remain masculine around Ford’s feminine ladies, so they have to leave.

The Grapes of Wrath – 1940

 

Even in The Grapes of Wrath, which has a theme of people sticking together in the name of survival, Tom Joad leaves the family by the end. I know it is similar to the book, but that aspect of the story might have been subconsciously appealing to Ford.

The film historian Joseph McBride suggests that Ford’s 1933 film Pilgrimage hints at the root of his relationship struggles. It is the rare Ford film where the mother figure isn’t given the beautified treatment. Instead, she’s an overbearing force who ruins her son’s life. McBride’s theory is that this is close to how Ford felt about his own mother, but he tended to suppress his negative feelings most of the time.

The film Mogambo gives additional insight into Ford’s personal struggles. That’s his safari film with Ava Gardner, Clark Gable, and Grace Kelly. There are some charming moments with Ava Gardner and the baby elephants, but it is also the only Ford film I’ve seen where the main character is involved in an affair with a married woman.

Mogambo – 1953

 

When the married Grace Kelly asks Clark why he hasn’t gotten married yet, he replies that women like her prevent it. It is a cryptic remark at the time, but later it becomes clear: He tries to keep his distance, but she pursues him. Too many married women have done the same thing, so he’s learned to be wary of commitment.

Clark plays his character as a powerful, but troubled man who is trying to do a job while surrounded by attractive women. That is not unlike John Ford’s circumstances as a director on a film set.

In the end, the love of the husband for his wife, persuades Clark to pursue a real relationship with Ava. Notably, that is one of the few films that ends with the couple together not trying to escape from something or someone.

Ford’s struggles to resolve his own inter conflicts made it possible for him to do what he does best: unify the country in a time of crisis.

Films like Stagecoach and The Horse Soldier feature Yanks and Rebels from the Civil War. The characters confront each other, sometimes in comic ways, but both sides are treated with dignity. The Rebels aren’t stupid, racist caricatures. Sometimes, but not always, the Rebs have more honor than the triumphant Yankees.

The Civil War happened less than a hundred years from when he made his films, and Ford realized that the wounds were still there, so he used his films to alleviate, not exacerbate, the tensions between North and South. And with trouble brewing abroad, Ford brought the country closer together by emphasizing the similarities between people and by giving Americans a mythology of the West that they could share with each other.

Young Mr. Lincoln – 1939

 

Consider too how Ford presents Abraham Lincoln as the great uniter. In Young Mr. Lincoln, Ole’ Honest Abe resolves a legal struggle between two brothers, meant to prefigure the brother-against-brother rivalry that the Civil War would embody, by discovering a hidden injustice that was perpetuated against them both. In The Iron Horse, President Lincoln unifies east and west by supporting the Transcontinental Railroad.

To further emphasize unity, Ford addresses racism in films like Sergent Rutledge. In Grapes of Wrath, Ford combats prejudice against Okie drifter types by making them so sympathetic. Oh yeah, and to make that film he partnered with producer Darryl F. Zanuck, who was … wait for it … a Republican!

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, John Ford, a progressive liberal, partnered with a prominent Republican, and in the process Ford made one of his best films and did something good for the country. Surprising right?! Who knew that sort of craziness happened back in the day?

I will pause for a moment to let that sink in. Those of you who spilled your hibiscus-pomegranate martinis while reading the last two paragraphs will have time to clean up. But just a general suggestion, maybe in the future you shouldn’t drink hibiscus-pomegranate martinis while reading my blog. If you absolutely must have that drink while reading, well you could always head on over to the Huffington Post or something.

I understand their quality articles are now available for the iPad. Just think of it, ladies and gentlemen: what better way to enjoy the weekend then to snuggle up by the fire with iPad in hand, a fresh hibiscus-pomegranate martini by your side, and insightful commentary from the Huffington Post to stimulate your eager minds!

Where were we? Oh, right. The freakish ways of old Hollywood. Actually, you know who else was a Republican? John Wayne. You know, John Wayne, as in the actor from the Searchers, Stagecoach, the Quiet Man, and a few other hit films that John Ford made. That John Wayne.

Ford could have refused to work with others who were different from him, but his best films wouldn’t be quite the same had he done so. I, for one, am glad he found a way to make it work, even if that meant mixing it up with those strange Republican types.

The Searchers – 1956

 

Let’s take one last look at the Searchers. When John Wayne’s Ethan Edwards finally confronts Scar, the Comanche Chief who killed Wayne’s family, we realize that Scar is just a wounded variation of Ethan. Facing his wounded alter-ego almost destroys Ethan, but in the end it allows for healing. Only then can Ethan Edwards head back home with the girl. It is not just Ethan who might heal but the whole country, Ford implies, if the country can follow Ethan’s example and come to terms with the tragedies in its past.

That story structure is so powerful that it found its way into Star Wars (Luke realizes he’s like Vader when his mechanical hand gets cut off.) and the Lion King (The bad guy’s name is Scar in that one too.), just to name a few. It is a powerful way to tell a story because it carries truth: We have to face the broken parts of ourselves if we are to make the kind of progress that Providence offers us.   

All in all, not a bad bit of insight from a Western. Let’s hope that kind of progress can still come, even in our time, even for us. That’ll be the day, right Pilgrim?

Here’s to you, John Ford.  Thank you kindly for all you taught us.

 

Essential Films:
The Searchers
Grapes of Wrath
Stagecoach

How Green Was My Valley
My Darling Clementine 
The Informer
Young Mr. Lincoln
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance 
Rio Grande
The Battle of Midway

 

Further Reading:
Print the Legend by Scott Eyman
Searching for John Ford by Joseph McBride

 

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New Orleans, Land of Sinners & Saints

I’m going to write this one sober. That is not to suggest that I mostly write while intoxicated. Still, the subject does bring to mind a good stiff drink, does it not? New Orleans is a town notorious for its Mardi Gras celebrations, and we all know what happens at Mardi Gras.

Well, I don’t know what happens exactly since I’ve never been, but I imagine that it involves alcohol. Among other things.

Old Absinthe House exterior

(Unless otherwise noted, the photos & videos in this post are ones I took in New Orleans.)

I should clarify. I moved to Baton Rouge a few months ago, so I’ve visited New Orleans a few times, just not during Mardi Gras.

Instead of being in New Orleans for the festivities, I’m in Virginia trying to collect my thoughts. Once again, I’m trying to act on something I don’t entirely understand because it feels like I should. Blame Kenneth Terry for that if you want, but it’s not really his fault.

He’s the talented trumpeter in the Treme Brass Band, and he gave me his card and told me to email him when I finished writing this story. I wasn’t even planning to start it back then. How did he know it would happen? I don’t think he was from the future, although that wouldn’t surprise me considering the way things seem to happen in my world.

Louis Armstrong statue

 

Let me explain. He saw me writing in my notebook and assumed that I was writing an article about the music. Not a bad assumption; I’ve done that before, but at the time I was just reflecting on life in general.

That’s one way I try to process the sad and complicated things in my life. Alcohol is another way, but from past experience I’ve discovered that alcohol can be the considerably more expensive choice. I’m on a budget, so I opted for the notepad that night.

When Kenneth approached me, it was the first clue that I should do a story on New Orleans, but one clue alone does not a murder solve. Before you get your hopes up, I should mention that this post does not actually involve murder. I’m just trying out a new phrase. You can always take it back to the store if you don’t like it.

 

The New Orleans guide book features the tagline, “It’s New Orleans: You’re different here.” Someone got paid a lot of money to write that, and for a tagline it is not bad. It’s a concise way of suggesting that the city can have an intoxicating effect on you if you let it. It is also a reminder that New Orleans offers you the chance to be someone else, to escape.

Like so many others, I have gone into the city looking to escape. There’s so much to take in. Food, music, and culture: It’s all top notch and very interesting in New Orleans.

Escape does come at a price though. The more you try to escape, the more expensive it becomes. The underlying problems remain no matter how many  layers of dirt you try to bury them under.

http://youtu.be/oCVRj2zHKYQ

From Disney’s official Princess and the Frog channel on YouTube.

 

It’s a basic law of economics: if the demand is high enough, the supply will emerge. No surprise then that there are a number of escape merchants in New Orleans. Walk down Bourbon St. for a few minutes, and you’ll see what I mean. There are fortune-telling gypsies, peddlers of cheap trinkets, and eager proprietors competing on how fast they can get you drunk and aroused.

Yeah, the con men are everywhere, looking for an excuse to get their hands into your pockets. I bought a blank CD from one of them who set up shop near a few musicians. I should have known better.

Sketches for Mardi Gras costumes

 

One night,  a girl on Bourbon St. was standing in a doorway talking to me. That’s not so strange, except she was wearing just a thong, and she was trying to have a conversation with her back turned. She wanted eye contact but not with her eyes. I guess some people like those kinds of conversations, but it is not how I prefer to say to hello.

I’ve got to admit though, the level to which people will stoop for escape does fascinate me. It’s one reason why I’m drawn to the city.

 

Escape was part of the equation even back in the city’s formative days. Its famous Mardi Gras culture developed as a reaction to high mortality rates in the mid 1800s.  The citizens of the Crescent City saw many of their young neighbors dying from yellow fever and other diseases, and they needed to divert their attention away from death’s ever-present nature.

It’s an all too-human impulse. Just think about how much effort we  put into sterilizing death out of our modern world. We don’t kill our food. That happens somewhere far away. We ask our citizens to go to a hospital or a nursing home, when they’re about to die. It can be anywhere really, as long as it is not in our neighborhood.

While New Orleans is often defined by its avenues of escape, it is not a city that brushes death to the outskirts. Here’s the intriguing part: death is on prominent display, as if the whole town is one big memento mori.  For one thing, the graveyards aren’t hidden out of sight. They are showcased on daily tours.

 

This is a photo I took on one such tour. Note the symbolism of the Alabama T-shirt in the cemetery. It represents the untimely death of LSU’s championship aspirations.

On top of that, no self-respecting souvenir shop worth its beads will lack assorted skeleton merchandise. It’s the city’s way of saying, “hey buddy, you’re going to die. Now buy a t-shirt.” That’s kind of refreshing actually, but I still haven’t purchased a skull t-shirt. Not yet.

 

Icons of death are scattered throughout the city, but there’s a heavier concentration of them in the French Quarter, and at the heart of the French Quarter sits St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in our nation. It is the solemn anchor to the pulsating commotion of Jackson Square, and that doesn’t strike me as a coincidence.

Sure, there’s decadence in New Orleans, but there’s also an underlying sense of faith, of soul. After all, it is the Saints, not the Sinners, who play at the Superdome.

As it happens, the city’s founder, Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, was also the first one to build a church on the site where St. Louis Cahedral now stands, so it is no stretch to say that  religion was built into the foundation from which the city grew.

Without that sense of purpose that comes with faith, I doubt that the people of New Orleans could confront death with their trademarked panache. When Katrina came and decimated the city, it was that very death-defying panache that revitalized the city, so don’t underestimate its power.

I mentioned earlier that I came to New Orleans looking to escape. I didn’t mention from what. It’s complicated, so to keep things simple, let’s just say that it involves football.

(This part is for those of you who are involved and have found it necessary to insult me in passive-aggressive ways. Well I can’t be sure about that, but it sure seems that way from my perspective. You are welcome to clear things up, just in case I got it wrong.

If you have an issue with me, then why not be direct about it? I’ve been direct with you, but you won’t treat me with the same consideration. To be less than direct at this point is cowardly and hypocritical.

Or are you vain enough to think that I would spend months trying to contort my life into some form that would be pleasing to your sensibilities? There are an uncanny number of coincidences, yes I know, but those coincidences have been outside of my control or are consistent with who I’ve claimed to be from the beginning.

There are also polarizing differences, and I would have to be the most incompetent or insane con man to use something as divisive  as contrarian politics to entrap you.

For your sake and for mine, I really wish I had never seen your show, because I would be so much happier, and things wouldn’t be what they are. By the way, did you notice how easily these parenthetical comments can apply to more than one person? Yeah, so did I. 

The only reason I’m still here, the only reason, is because something tells me I should be. Maybe it is crazy, but I can assure you that it is not wishful thinking. I would not wish this on anyone. 

Walk away right now, and I will never bother you again, but if there is something you need to say to me, then let’s hear it. Right now. Otherwise just go away and let me be. It will all fade eventually. It is not like I’m important enough for you to care about what I think. 

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then I’m sorry for the digression, but it needed to be said. I would do it differently if I could.)

Are you still reading? I can’t imagine why, but if you are, then let’s move on.

Old Absinthe House interior

 

I saw the sights, heard the sounds, ate the food. I can’t complain. It was an enjoyable escape, until I visited the World War II museum. It was a museum that came highly recommended. Plus, I’m a history enthusiast, and I do think about death more than most people my age, so it seemed like an obvious destination.

I was not prepared for what I encountered there.

That’s one of the photos in the museum. It was taken right before D-Day, when General Eisenhower visited with the 101st Airborne Division. The museum placard quotes the soldier wearing number 23, Lieutenant Wallace C. Strobel, as saying “While I think the General thought his visit would boost the morale of our men, I honestly think it was his morale that was improved by being with such a remarkably ‘high’ group of troops.”

That’s the effect that the museum had on me. I saw courageous men preparing for battle, knowing that they might die the next day, and I wanted to live more courageously. I read of men sacrificing their lives because they had a sense of purpose, and I wanted to live a more purposeful life.

I know that all wars aren’t fought for just reasons, but I believe World War II was. Having spent so much time pursuing a career in the entertainment business, I had forgotten what real heroes looked like. I needed the museum to remind me.

I can’t run into something like that, and stay committed to my plans for escape. Not for long. I’m not built that way.

The museum sealed the deal; I had to return to the purpose I was trying to avoid, and I knew then that I had to write this.  I didn’t say that I would enjoy writing this, just that it had to be done.

Admittedly, there are a lot of notable coincidences in the things I write, but they’re all true. I’m not trying to con anyone, and I don’t usually seek out those coincidences.

They come to me even when I try to avoid them. I hope you can believe me on that point, but if you don’t trust me by now, I don’t think you ever will. So it goes, you know. So it goes.

 

My best way to explain it is to quote the Disney clip I shared earlier. “I’ve got friends on the other side,” but unlike Dr. Facilier, I don’t think mine are the bad sort.

There’s something to be said for making an important point by quoting a Disney cartoon. If I were in a position to do so, I’d give myself a prestigious award for that, just because it would never happen elsewhere.

Anyway, Dr. Facilier’s name is derived from the Latin word ‘facilis’ meaning easy to do. If you think I am somehow taking the easy way out, you are so very misguided. Escape is the easy way, and I’m trying to avoid it. 

With a sense of purpose at hand, I can experience all the grand things that New Orleans has to offer, not as ways to escape, but as life-affirming wonders. Speaking of which, lets get back to Kenneth Terry.

I was hesitant about going to the Candlelight Lounge. It was late Wednesday night, and I was alone, but I had this sense that I should go, and that it would be OK to bring my camera. So I did.

 

The decor inside consisted of unadorned structural supports, shiny red stars borrowed from someone’s 4th-of-July celebration, and a Satchmo bobble head, but no one came for the decor.

They came for the music, and what a musical experience it was. Sometimes the trombones would take the lead. Sometime Kenneth would charge ahead as the drums and the tamborines held up the rear.

 

Sorry for the grainy video, folks. I had just my compact, but trusty, Canon PowerShot G12 with me that night. The video doesn’t do the experience justice, but it hints at the atmosphere.

On occasion, the musicians would get up from their seats and accost the patrons with their music, standing just inches away from their targets. Some of the patrons would dance out their responses. Others would nod along.

The band played with a vitality unlike anything I had ever seen. It was as if the musicians had made an agreement with us: They would play their hearts out for us, and in exchange we would go forth and embrace life with renewed vigor. It was an offer too good to refuse. The ephemeral unity of purpose from the mixed crowd in attendance suggested that they felt the same way.

 

I did what I could to honor my part, Kenneth. Thank you for the inspiration.

If you plan to visit New Orleans for Mardi Gras, I hope you’ll have fun.  Ask, and I’ll be glad to give you recommendations for what to visit, but I haven’t been in town that long myself, so what do I know, right?  Just try to remember that there is more to it all than just escape.

 

 

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