Bridgehampton gets an historic district..... page 5
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DECEMBER 2023 INDEPENDENT JOURNALISM
92 years of LI Duck Christmas! by George Fiala (with help from The Big Duck, by Dr. Susan Van Scoy)
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here was once a time when Route 24 was part of the route to the Hamptons. Driving with my parents in the 1960's is what imprinted the Big Duck in my mind. It was something I pretty much forgot until I began my turtle odyssey (issue #2 of this paper) and had to drive to Jamesport. The next month I drove to the Woodside Orchards, and last issue to the Modern Snack Bar. Each time I passed by the Duck, but each time I was kind of in a hurry and didn't stop. Finally, on my latest trip to the Snack Bar to drop off the last issue and pick up some stuff for Thanksgiving, I had time to stop. Before I continue, I have to add one more giant roadside attraction that I have encountered. I went to college in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and for a couple years worked at a radio staion near York. Driving to work on Route 30 I used to pass by a giant shoe, which is very reminiscent of The Duck. The Shoe was meant to whimsically be the house of the "Old Woman" who lived in it. It was built in 1948 by a shoe salesman. The Duck was built in 1931, and housed a store selling ducks and duck eggs. Martin Maurer was the half own-
This is the Big Shoe (where the old woman lived) which is in Pennsylvania.
er of a duck farm. On a trip during the Depression to Los Angeles, he had a cup of coffee in a coffee shop shaped like a percolator. He reportedly spent almost $4,000 of 1931 money to build his big idea. It's original location was in Upper Mills, Riverhead, but by 1936 Maurer was so successful with the duck that he bought his own farm and moved the duck to Route 24. Maurer retired in 1951 and sold the farm to the Dessons. The Duck was such a landmark that Desson, who was a chicken farmer, sourced ducks from Aquebogue and kept selling them inside the Duck, along with his chickens. Maude Desson worked twelve hours a day, seven days a week every year from March to Thanksgiving, when they closed for the season. According to Dr. Van Soy, customers included Carl Yastrzemski's mother, Alistair Cooke and the food critic Craig Claiborne. The Duck was next sold in 1972, to Jean and Marie Colombo, who changed things up a bit. They concentrated on raising chickens, along with some turkeys, sheep and Muscovy ducks. They sold rotisserie chicken from inside the Big Duck, and transformed other buildings on the property into an antique shed, sandwich and pastry shops. The sturdily built Duck weathered all storms and continued to feature glowing red eyes (illuminated with automobile headlights). The Colombo's sold it in 1982 to a
sculptor and his wife (the Eshgis), who hoped to transform the property into an artist residence, however this change of usage was not allowed and The Duck became empty and neglected. A campaign was started to save the Duck, and in 1987, the Eshgis donated the Duck to Suffolk County. It was moved a few miles south on 24, to Sears Bellows County Park. It remained at the park for 20 years, when the Town of Southampton decided to move it back to it's previous location on 24. It turned out that the sculptor had sold the land to a real estate developer. The developer never developed anything, so the land was bought by the Town and brought the Duck back home. The next year it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places, and has stayed put.
The artist Saul Steinberg, a longtime Amagansett resident, like to paint the Big Duck. This was the cover of The New Yorker, and a print of it is for sale in the gift shop that has replaced duck selling inside the duck. There's lots of other LI themed souvenirs available, not to mention plush duck toys, available just in time for the holidays!
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December 2023
PUBLISHER'S COLUMN
Don't trust anyone over.... how old??? T he political reporter for my Brooklyn paper (Howard Graubard) wrote an article that basically says that no matter how great a president Joe Biden is (and he does say he's been a great president) he won't win re-election. Graubard writes:
"Joe Biden may arguably be the best President of my 65 year-old lifetime. Reluctantly, running, while implying a promise of a caretaker administration to restore our national dignity out of the depths of depravity and degradation in which it had been dragged, he has succeeded admirably and gotten us through a pandemic into as soft an economic landing as was manageable under the circumstances. But, except for his Vice President, he is probably the potential Democratic nominee most likely to go down to defeat, putting our government solidly into the hands of a Party headed by
Still working.
a fascism-adjacent madman and controlled largely by ultra-right wing ideological fanatics."
Well, I'm often wrong about these things—I still can't believe Nixon beat Humphrey—but I disagree. I'm actually still not sure that Trump will be the candidate, but whether it's Trump or Nikki Haley, the incumbent will win. This is not about Haley or Trump. This is about Biden. First of all, it's clear that he, as many others, believe that Donald Trump is a genuine danger to the country. He probably would have run in 2016 were it not for the death of his son, and perhaps when Hillary ended up losing he felt that things might have been different had he chosen to run. Four years later he won a tough primary and the election. He took over a country still in the throes of a once in a lifetime pandemic, and together with the experienced and competent cabinet he put together, kept the country out of a depression. At the same time, he did what unfortunately a lot of Democrats have to do after a Republican administration, which is restore American credibility overseas. Inflation was the inevitable result of the tremendous monetary expansion that kept the country out of misery. Remember, for many months, even years, people were getting paid even though they couldn't work because of the pandemic. I don't remember any starvation or rioting. This was because government did what it was supposed to do, keep things going regardless of the situation. It's possible that inflation wouldn't have happened were there massive tax increases on the wealthy, but Americans have been subject to so much propaganda as regards govern-
ment and taxation that no politician wants to be known for increasing tax. So yes, money became worth a little less (all over the world, by the way). Republican strategy has been to hammer away at inflation, making people think that things are worse than they actually are (cognitive dissonance), and also Joe Biden's age. To be honest, I'm kind of surprised that all the people who keep putting up "Black Lives Matter" signs, haven't started putting up "Older Lives Matter" signs also. Both do matter. As I've gotten older myself, I can see that elder abuse is a big problem. I'm well on my way to 71, and I've never done more things. My mailing business is on an upswing, and I'm now publishing two papers, doing lots of the work myself, including driving to the printer, loading up the car with papers and delivering them all over downtown Brooklyn and then the East End. I'm now a member of two trade associations, and attend meetings and conventions all over the country. I made fast friends with a Brooklyn legend, Buddy Scotto, who passed away at 92 a few years ago. He was a community leader, and one of the projects he focused on was the revival of Gowanus and it's canal. He was single minded about it, and continued his advocacy at every community meeting he would attended (which were lots). Most people basically ignored him, writing him off as being in the throes of dementia. Nobody bothered to engage him in conversation. I did. If you read the back page of this paper, you'll see I enjoy the past. I find that I learn a lot from older people. Buddy not only was a great source of first-hand information about the 1950's onward, but he kept up-to-date on everything. He told me
George Fiala not to tell anyone, especially since his son was a rabid Republican, but in 2016 he voted for Sanders. Age finally caught up to him, but right up until the end he was a sharp as a whip. I have this strange idea, strange in that I've never heard anyone else talk about it, but my whole life I've felt old at the end of a decade, but rejuvenated once I passed the 9's. In other words 9 old, 10 young; 19 old, 20 young, and so on. Maybe more people than I think feel the same. Biden passed the hump of 80 and is still going strong. He flies all over the world, has productive meetings with some of the world's most powerful leaders, and travels to trouble spots and funerals just like presidents in their 50's and 60's have done. So here's my hunch. First of all, the economy will rocket next year, people's standard of living will noticeably raise, and people will notice it. Second, people will see a rejuvenated Biden shine in the presidential debates, no matter who he ends up facing.
"I'm kind of surprised that all the people who keep putting up "Black Lives Matter" signs, haven't started putting up "Older Lives Matter" signs also."
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He
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mj
You never can tell who will read your stuff if you write for the Amagansett Star-Revue.
FUNNY SIDE UP
#7 December 2023, Page 3
The importance of bees that keep making honey by Deborah Klugher, owner of Bonac Bees
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egotiations with George (the publisher of this newspaper) to write this column were brief. I sent writing samples about honey bee swarms and flowers; great information to help honey bees, I thought. I also suggested an article on honey laundering, to which George replied, “Why not start with an article about your business?” “Oh geez. That’s hard. Bees are much more interesting," I replied. I tried to entice him with “all the boy honey bees get kicked out of the hive by the girl honey bees in the winter. They are left to freeze or starve to death, and some girls will actively kill the boys.” He wasn’t biting. George has a mission. He said he would “like to concentrate on being a local paper, with a focus on interesting things in the area, one of which is you and your work” He was the second person in a week who said I was interesting. Well okay then, let’s see if I can weave together some interesting musings and escapades of a female beekeeper who typically manages just over 100 colonies at 40 locations across the east end of Long Island. About 30 of the colonies I manage are my own, and they live on a gorgeous oceanfront organic farm in Sagaponack. I manage a few colonies in Springs and Hampton Bays as well. These colonies produce my award winning Bonac, Bees honey, which is available at select establishments throughout the east end. You can also find me (and my honey) at fairs from late fall through early spring. I rarely have time during the beekeeping season to attend spring and summer markets, but even if I did, I just do not have the volume of product to be able to do so. Unlike some other “local” honey companies, I sell out every year, while their supply seems limitless. More on this topic will be revealed in subsequent issues: Stay tuned! The remainder of the colonies I manage are located on amazing estates from Eastport to Montauk. Many of my clients are well-known figures, and their identities are top secret! The addition of honey bees to a prop-
erty makes the site an apiary and offers a number of benefits. Honey bees provide ecological servicing to the apiary and other properties within a 5 mile radius. They provide pollination for many flowering plants including trees and bushes, native species, and fruits and vegetables. Pollination produces seeds and food for both humans and wildlife, and also provides habitat for wildlife. My clients also get to enjoy the honey that their bees make! The average yield of surplus honey on Long Island is about 40 pounds per colony. The bees typically make more than that, but we need to leave them about 75 pounds of the sweet stuff to get through winter. The nectar flow typically starts around mid-May, and lasts through mid-July, so they only have a small window of opportunity to gather nectar and make it into honey. If winter reserves are low, they are fed sugar in either a thick syrup, bee fondant, candy boards, or plain white granulated sugar. I manage more honey bee colonies than any other female beekeeper on Long Island, and quite possibly have the largest operation overall. (I welcome input from my male beekeeper friends on this assertation.) Keep in mind that beekeepers, myself included, have a hard time counting by ones. Is a nuc (a small colony) counted as one or half of a colony? Are only production colonies counted or are all bees in hives included? How about newly caught swarms or queenless colonies? Professional, or commercial beekeepers often keep apiary locations and colony numbers top-secret, for a variety of reasons, so the world may never know…
whose prominence was established on her own merit and not due to her relationship with a man. My beekeeping operation is a solo venture. Built over the last decade, it’s just me and the bees! While my business was definitely built on my own, I have learned from and studied with some of the best beekeepers and researchers in the world! At the beginning of my beekeeping journey, I knew I needed to know more. Much more. I applied and was accepted into the Eastern Apicultural Society’s (EAS) elite Master Beekeeper
"Before becoming a beekeeper, I never gave bees a second thought. I didn’t give them a first thought either! " Certification program. It is a program that does not teach you. It tests you. You are vetted into the program and must come fully prepared to sit for 4 rigorous examinations. They give you 5 years to pass written, laboratory, oral, and field examinations. I passed after three years and am proud to be a Certified EAS Master Beekeeper.
Before becoming a beekeeper, I never gave bees a second thought. I didn’t give them a first thought either! Beekeeping is one of those occupations that is typically a family business, with knowledge (and bees) passed down through generations. I took a look at my family tree all the way back to the 1500s and found no mention of bees or beekeepers. While beekeeping may not be a familial thing for me, my name, Deborah, literally means “the bee.” Interesting.
Beekeeping is not easy. Although it is quite rewarding, it is also physically and emotionally demanding. You must devote a good deal of time to the bees, but more importantly, you have to get the timing right to be a successful beekeeper. There are outside influences over which beekeepers have no control: Pesticides, parasites and disease, lack of forage, weather and climate, habitat loss, poor beekeeping practices, detrimental legislation, ignorance, and greed are just a few problems we beekeepers must contend with.
In the Hebrew Bible, Deborah was one of the most famous women. She was the only woman of her time
Okay, now back to the Hebrew Deborah; she was known to be wise and courageous. One must be brave to
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work with tens of thousands of bees, where one, or multiple stings can kill you. Is it wise to put oneself in such a position? As it turns out, I learned that honey bee venom is medicinal. Throughout history there is documentation of the use of honey bees and their hive products on both humans and animals for health and healing. This practice of using honey bee venom, and all of the bee hive products is known as apitherapy, and is a topic I have become well versed in. While I spend almost all of my time managing bees, I also offer presentations at major beekeeping conferences on the subject of apitherapy. I have presented original research at Apimondia, the International Federation of Beekeepers’ Associations where beekeepers, scientists, honey-traders, agents for development, technicians, and legislators meet to listen, discuss, and learn from one another. I also offer lectures for all ages on beginning to advanced beekeeping topics and techniques, status of the bees, how to help the bees, and so much more. Through the years I have entered honey shows at national and international beekeeping conferences. The competition is always fierce, but I have managed to amass quite the collection of ribbons and awards for my hive products. I have won the “Sweepstakes Award” twice at EAS, where you gain points for each winning entry, and the person who amasses the most points in the show wins the coveted silver bowl, purple ribbon, and bragging rights! By entering (and winning) honey shows, I have learned how to make and offer the public the highest quality (award winning) hive products possible. In January I will be attending two different conferences and plan to enter some of my products into both honey shows. First, I will be in Louisville, Kentucky at The North American Honey Bee Expo (NAHBE), which started just a few years ago. There will be an acre of vendors and over 2000 beekeepers in attendance. We will come together to learn, network, and talk about bees. If you know a beekeeper, you know how much we love to talk about our bees, or other people’s bees, or wild bees, or any bees, really.
(continued on next page) December 2023
Bridgehampton Finally Gets An Historic District
A
by Joe Enright
s you inch along Montauk Highway traffic, you might notice a marker tucked away on the south side of Main Street in Bridgehampton, just before the big stone monument and flagpole.
"To assist the Continental Army, the Bridgehampton militia was mobilized to It’s a blue plaque on a street pole that stands outside a parking lot for bouprotect the far eastern flank." tique stores, proclaiming the area was once “Triangular Commons” where militia from the surrounding settlements gathered to train from 1649 until 1776...Hmmm…1776…that year rings a bell. Ah, yes. August of 1776, when 32,000 soldiers, the largest expeditionary force that England had ever assembled, invaded Brooklyn. George Washington thought he would hold the high ground with a series of forts in Fort Greene, Red Hook, and Cobble Hill, pounding the attacking redcoats as they climbed the Brooklyn heights, just like the Boston militia had done months earlier on Bunker Hill. To assist the Continental Army, the Bridgehampton militia was mobilized to protect the far eastern flank and herd livestock deeper into Queens, away from the hungry enemy. But whilst on that mission, the British quickly overwhelmed the colonials, forcing Washington to abandon Long Island. With
the European invaders busily occupying homes, gathering food, mowing down trees for firewood and hunting rebels and informers, the militia men wisely fled east and then north across the Sound to fight another day. And so the Commons would not see marching men for many years. It did however witness a huge throng in 1798 protesting the maritime policies of President John Adams and Governor John Jay that seemed to be leading the young nation toward an alliance with England in a war against France. The wounds of English occupation were still too fresh for Long Islanders to feel any other way. It is said that future traitor Aaron Burr attended the rally and might have even whet his whistle at John Wick’s Bull’s Head Tavern on the northeast corner of the Commons, where Montauk Highway
intersected with the old Sag Harbor Turnpike. That Tavern, built in 1686, was torn down in 1939, replaced by a gas station. Another plaque on another pole is all that marks the spot. Happily for history buffs like me, the rest of the historic buildings surrounding the Triangular Commons will now be preserved, thanks to substantial investments of time, energy, and thoughtful planning that has created the new Bridgehampton Bull’s Head-Main Street Historic District. On October 24, a public meeting of the Southampton Town Board was held to discuss the matter and hear objections from hamlet residents. But only one dissenting voice was heard, from a home owner who described a house so badly in need of renova-
BEES
(continued from page 4)
Then I’m off to New Orleans for the American Beekeeping Federation’s (ABF) annual conference and trade show. An eighty-year-old organization, the ABF is different than other beekeeping organizations as they have a paid lobbyist. Their mission is to act on behalf of the beekeeping industry on issues affecting the interests and the economic viability of the various sectors of the beekeeping industry. They put on an outstanding annual conference with a variety of speakers and researchers presenting important and useful information to their membership. I will be giving two talks at ABF this year: ‘Value Added Products from the Hive for Health and Wealth’ and ‘Mind Your Own Beeswax and Your Propolis Too’. The first delves a little
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into apitherapy, a variety of hive products and the medicinal benefits of each, and how beekeepers can make and market these products. The second talk goes into detail on harvesting, processing, and making products from beeswax and propolis, with a little information about the medicinal benefits of both. If you have not heard of propolis, please look it up. It is a powerful medicine made by honey bees. If everything goes according to plan, a few new ribbons will be added to my collection. I’ll report back on some of the more interesting conference details next month, but if you’d like to follow along on my daily adventures, find out what is coming up in my bee world, or learn important bee-centric news and views, please follow along on my Instagram or Facebook pages. I am Bonac Bees on both platforms and always welcome new followers. Bonac Bees celebrated ten years in business this year! To commemorate, I created
a program called “Coddle a Colony”. All the fun details on this program and more can be found on my website, BonacBees.com. Until next time, I think I’ll try to beguile George with information about honey bees mating practices. I mean, who wouldn’t want to know that the queen bee leaves the hive on her onetime mating flight at about 2 weeks of age and flies to the drone congregation area, where she mates with over a dozen male bees from other colonies? If that isn’t interesting enough, maybe he’d think the readers would like to know that the male honey bee becomes paralyzed after his endophallus is everted into the queen. Upon ejaculation, his endophallus explodes and breaks off inside the queen as he flips backwards and falls to Earth in a long and lonely death spiral. If you are in the right place at the right time, you can actually hear the popping sounds of honey bee procreation. As I mentioned earlier, timing is everything
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tion, the only thing historic remaining would be the enormous bill from contractors. Her house was readily excluded by the Board, clearing the path for passage of a final resolution on December 14, a designation six years in the making. At a prior Town Board meeting, after a presentation on the history of the hamlet, someone remarked that the first building in Bridgehampton was a tavern. “Well, they had their priorities right,” came the ready response. Julie Greene, the Town historian – who completed the extensive historical research in-house, saving taxpayers tens of thousands of dollars in lieu of the Board hiring a consultant – pointed out that the tavern also served as an inn for travelers who needed to bed down before continuing their eastward trek. “In 1700,” somebody smirked, “it probably took less time to get to East Hampton on horseback than it does today in a car.” The Board was unanimous in its assent.
when it comes to beekeeping.
Questions or Comments? Email Debbie@BonacBees.com Text or Call 631-377-1943
December 2023, Page 5
Dear God/Supreme Being/Universal Force/Capital Letter ETC
I
f I’m going to have to pay at least three times what it would cost in 95% of the rest of America for my pool to be cleaned, for my house to be painted, for my roof to be repaired, for my hot water to run adequately, please at least give the tradesmen the goodwill to finish the job/do it right/start on time/finish on time/show up when he said he would/clean up the job site properly/not destroy my lawn and/or driveway with his truck/small-capital-letter etc. Dear God (because I was raised Catholic), your son Jesus was a carpenter (of course, he went on to bigger things). Back in his day (around 0-33 AD, according to my calculations), being a carpenter was considered a noble profession and he surely performed it nobly. And though Jesus chose to live amongst the poor, he had the ways and means (and I’m not talking about his God-given super powers) to live comfortably in a decent neighborhood, grab a meal out at the tavern on a Saturday night, and have adequate vacation time to do a walking tour of Galilee and Judea, for instance. I’d like to think when Jesus built a foot stool, it didn’t waddle, he cleaned up his wood shavings and completed the job on deadline, besides clearly having a cordial manner and charging a reasonable price. Of course, Jesus probably didn’t have to stand in foot traffic and walk to and from Manorville to Nazareth, each day. Jesus didn’t have to figure out how to pay his electric bills, Optimum Cable/Internet Rip-off bundle and lease payments on his Tacoma. And of course, Jesus didn’t have to put up with obnoxious, entitled, absurdly wealth clients who live like Romans … oops. God, since moving to Amagansett four years ago, I’ve been through five pool maintenance companies, four plumbers, three landscapers, two turtle doves and a fridge repair man who
by Joe Caccamo charged a ridiculous fee. One of my first pool cleaning vendors charged $200 for a visit in which he pulled up my driveway and immediately turned around because he later confessed he forgot to bring the right equipment. One contractor charged me a crazy amount of money to redo the trim on the house. We agreed on a composite material but he used plywood instead. Last week, I got an invoice from my irrigation guy for $320 to do the winter blow out. He was here for ten minutes. When I called him out on it via text, he said the invoice was a mistake, that he was off by $150. Jesus Christ (God, I’m going to refer to your son a lot … it’s a bit of a good Christian habit, I suppose). Dear God, I went to see my sage/ muse/sounding board/truth-sayer mid-30s woman friend who runs (not owns) a shop in Amagansett Square to vent my frustration. Her lack of compassion was evident. (And God, I suggest ear muffs). “You get fucked because you choose to live in the one of the wealthiest places in country!,” she smacked, I mean said. “If you can afford to be here than you can suck it the fuck up! Our generation sees the options as bleak,” she continued. “And the generation behind me is basically like, “Burn the Whole Fucker Down!” Good Lord. I mean, I mean Bad Lord … oh, never mind. I recalled a situation I witnessed Saturday night at Serafina. The place was unusually packed for mid-November. It must have been the combo of gorgeous weather and the panoply of foliage at the peak of their autumnal glory, pulling the Hamptons weekenders out of their Manhattan dwellings. Young Ashlynn, the hostess, aka God’s gift (I mean, Your gift) to genetic splicing, was doing her best to manage the hangry, demanding swell of patrons seeking tables, when a 60-something-year old man who embodied the mien of Lord Chamberlain
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dressed in a Mens Wearhouse closeout sale, marched into the restaurant, consulted with his wife who was already there waiting for him, and immediately accosted Ashlynn for giving away His table to another group. The man got in Ashlynn’s personal space, ie about 12 inches (ie, 5 times the length of his penis) from her, and pointed his fingers in her face. I clenched my fist and was ready to clock the guy when Goran, the owner, swept in and de-escalated the situation. I could only imagine what Ashlynn’s father, an eighth-generation Montauk fisherman (who married an evidently beautiful Swede), would’ve done if he’d seen this POS’ (not Point of Sale) behavior to his sweet daughter. Jesus Christ. Dear Lord, I understand the tension of the times. If a government doesn’t promote policies that create opportunities for upward mobility and the maintenance of a strong middle class, then you breed resentment, apathy, anger and worse. Sprinkle in an economic downturn with a pinch of Covid, a couple wars, internet algorithms that ossify your neural pathways and thus belief systems like a steak and egg blue plate special, and most insidiously (and I’m not saying this to score brownie points My Big Man), a bunch of people who cloak their evil intentions under the veil of Your Good Name, and you’ve got an absolute hellfire cauldron boiling a cute, oblivious frog that is humanity. Jesus Christ, I need to lay off the caffeine. So Lord, Iet me focus back on my prayer. I pray that The Man can be less obnoxious, kinder, more generous of wallet and spirit, more understanding of the plight of those less fortunate. I pray that Us Men (and today, that includes Women God, hate to break it to you) support, enact, vote on people and policies who aim to give opportunity for upward mobility so that the Non-
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The-Men have a chance to become a better version of The Man. A rising tide raises all boats, 150’ Oceanco and 14’ Boston Whaler alike. I pray, Dear God, that all humanity maintain the perspective that we are only here in the forms we embody, in the social and economic strata we occupy for a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and that all of humanity understands, especially The Men, that they don’t haul your money wagon behind your hearse when you die, so that we choose love over fear. I pray that the winter is mild, Zach Wilson chooses a more suitable career like being a tween catalog model for JCPenney, that I can just once make the green in two on #4 at Montauk Downs, that Rowdy Hall reopens before the locusts come, that they finally get rid of “Daylight Savings,” that the wars come to an end, that the woodpeckers stop their assault on my shingles, that Vivek Ramaswamy shares his teeth whitening methodology and then gently disappears entirely from the public sphere, that a beautiful, smart and kind woman miraculously chooses me, and that I won’t blow it this time. And, Dear Lord, I pray that the plumbers I hear banging away in my basement below me, as I type this, don’t come up the stairs and say, “Um, we have a problem.” Caaaaaaaaaaaa-ching. In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost and my dwindling bank account. Amen. Postscript, “For a (running) list of vendors who have disappointed and beyond, please feel free to email me at jcaccamo@cppcre.com.”Lord, If You’re Listening
December 2023
Montauk Memories by Leisa Schimmel
M
ontauk was a much smaller place in 1980, when Trish and I spent two glorious weeks at the eastern end of Long Island. My father had finally relented and allowed me to drive the family car from Jersey to our summer house. The Rolling Stones had recently released the Some Girls album and their “Beast of Burden” was blasting from the speakers of our very uncool Buick LeSabre as we inched through Southampton, East Hampton’s Main Street, the Amagansett Famer’s Market and IGA until we finally hit the gas on the last stretch of Route 27, Old Montauk Highway. Our destination was a Culloden Point cottage on the Sound overlooking the Harbor, just up the road from Gosman’s Dock. The intermittent views of the blue green waters, seafoamtopped waves and sun-filled grassy dunes were so exciting to see as the road dipped and rose until we arrived at the end of our three hour journey. For days we luxuriated in yellow/orange sunrises/sunsets, whose plum and pink tones we would enjoy until the ambient light gave way to stars adorning pitch black skies. We had no idea how much fun Montauk had planned for us, that we would be making memories of a lifetime. We had planned on spending most of our days near Kirk Park Beach. We loved playing frisbee in the docile low tide waters and swimming with the local town dogs roaming the beaches. Then as the high tide rolled in, we became wave jumpers, diving into the water to catch the plastic disc with dramatic flair, showing off as teenagers do. We were all about macrame bikinis and Wayfarer shades, barefoot all over town and looking for adventure every day. When we were thirsty, we would walk off the beach and hit the back door of the Memory Motel where the Stones were always playing on the jukebox and the beers were always ice cold. Mick Jagger wrote a song about a summer love he found there once… and that’s where we met the companions for our East End adventure! John was a long-haired blonde blueeyed surfer who hung out at Ditch Plains Beach, but dropped by for a beer or two at the Memory Hotel Bar. Montauk can be a challenging surfing
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"John claimed his boss was a famous photographer, Peter Beard, whose muse was Africa – its culture and its people and whose second muse was his fiancée, the supermodel Cheryl Tiegs." destination so we asked him to show off his skills and we followed him to Ditch Plains, where we met Kevin, a brown-eyed, stocky but muscular extrovert, who was all over us the moment we arrived. They both seemed fun, safe, and full of great plans.
walked up a long dirt driveway to a large estate. Brazenly – and don’t try this nowadays – we walked past many outbuildings to the main house. There was a great lawn that ended in a split rail fence bordering a drop to the crashing ocean waves below.
Each day, after the afternoon sun had baked our skin brown, we would repack our coolers for the sunset and ensuing starlight that graced the lighthouse cliffs, near the old military base. The elevation there on the cement bunkers allowed for optimum star gazing, unprecedented anywhere we had yet seen on the east coast. When the midnight Montauk breezes chilled us, and the wine ran out, we would make our way back to the beauty of Culloden Point and our cozy cottage.
Suddenly from behind us we heard a most commanding male voice say, “Who dares come to MY door?”
John told us he earned his beer money landscaping the beach below his boss’s beachfront home. He explained that each night the tide would deposit rocks and seaweed on the beach below the high cliffs upon which the home sat, and that the lady of the house liked to do yoga on the sand down there, so the beach had to be cleared each morning. John claimed his boss was a famous photographer, Peter Beard, whose muse was Africa – its culture and its people and whose second muse was his fiancée, the supermodel Cheryl Tiegs. John ran on with the story of how each morning he would traverse the path down the cliff to the ocean to clean up for Cheryl but we weren’t quite convinced that he was telling the truth, so the next morning we decided to check the story out for ourselves. We told the boys we would see them the next day on the beach at 11:00 am, but we got started an hour earlier, driving up the roads John described and finding the mysterious house where he claimed to live. We parked off the shoulder and
Looking toward the voice we saw him, leaning out the top window, a smiling shirtless man we would learn was John’s boss, Peter Beard. The idea of running away did occur to us, but somehow, I managed to look up and say, “We’re so sorry! We’re here to meet John.” Stroking his handsome chin, Peter replied, “He should be in his cottage after he finishes his beach combing, so go down to and wait for him there.” Suddenly, Cheryl Tiegs appeared in front of us. “You’re here to see John? Why you two are so adorable! Here, come with me and I’ll show you where John lives. Enjoy yourself and don’t keep Johnny out late!” Trish and I exchanged glances: John’s story was true! Cheryl added that her neighbors were Clarence Clemmens, Bruce Springsteen’s sax man, and the Rolling Stones themselves! “So don’t go sneaking around here again.” We assured her no more sneaking, and she laughed and started walking back to the main house. Then she turned. “Hey, girls, we’re getting married next weekend. Maybe you can come with Johnny!” And with that, off she flew to her handsome beau. We jumped up and down, realizing we’d just been invited to Montauk’s wedding of the year: Peter Beard and Cheryl Tiegs! We ran back to the car and met the boys at Ditch. John and Kevin were already surfing. We dived
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into the water, oblivious of the morning chill, laughing and telling John what just happened. “We have dates for Sunday, Kev!” John yelled and they smiled and gave us hugs. That’s when we fell in love with our Montauk surfer boys. What a day! On Sunday we all looked as good as it gets, the boys in white tuxes and us in heels and bohemian long dresses to catch the ocean breezes on the cliffs of Peter’s estate. The old stone Montauk Community Church on the hill was private so we all had to meet at the reception. In true Gatsby form, up the long dirt driveway rolled the limos and the happy couple. Surrounded by rocky mansions on great lawns on one side, and lighthouse on the other, the grounds were laden with ice sculptures overflowing with Montauk seafood. The Dom Perignon flowed like water poured d by waiters in black tuxes serving hors d’oeuvres with white gloves. The views at this spot rivaled anywhere in Montauk, truly magnificent, and the skies were crystal clear Montauk blue, followed by a delightful golden sunset. We rubbed shoulders with movie and TV stars, models and rock musicians: all of Montauk’s elite. They called us “the kids.” Very lucky kids indeed! My interest in these two celebrities over the years has continued and I was lucky enough to see one of Peter Beard’s collection of photos in the Hamptons and I most enjoy the ones in the Shagwong Tavern which are still there today. I remember his message on the importance of African wildlife preservation and the damage wrought by poachers to this day. Cheryl Tieg’s beauty and hard work made her one of the world’s first Supermodels. She’s a stunner still and has saved and archived many of Montauk’s historic treasures. They can still be viewed at the lighthouse museum there, where many notations read, “Donated by Cheryl Tiegs.” So, the next time your kids beg you for permission to take the family car for a senior year adventure to the East End of Long Island, LET THEM GO! They may meet amazing people, view magnificent sunrises and sunsets, and make some lifelong Montauk memories.
December 2023, Page 7
STAR SIGN DECEMBER FORECAST Julie Evans
T
he holiday season is upon us. It is the time of the Sun in Sagittarius, the Archer who aims his arrow towards far away targets that will require work to get to. Traditionally, many celebrations are held for the year’s end in hopes that the darkest time will end and the Sun will return. The wild and far-reaching events of this year may cause less reverie for many families, but I would encourage paying attention to the spiritual elements of the holidays. I expect the holiday traditions will be there for many of us, but the upheaval that has rocked the world in the past two months has diminished expectations for many globally. Personally, I live a life always surrounded and expressed in music. Motown Sounds are in heavy rotation lately. A 1970 hit song by The Temptations called Ball of Confusion or aka, That’s What the World is Today runs through my mind. If you have never heard it I suggest you give it a try since it is still relevant and you can dance to it. I hope you find peace in your lives this season. I hope you can find some time to meditate on filling the world with more love. If we all spend just fifteen minutes every Sunday afternoon at three pm letting love fill our hearts we can change the course and forge a new earth. I hope as many of us as possible can join this already in-progress movement to project love to the world. Like many in our watery east end world, my healing place is at the beach. So that is where I will be trying to change the world every Sunday.
Happy Birthday Sagittarius! Father Sun shines upon you but it is Mars in your sign that is giving you an extra pulse of energy to get that project done. Be careful not to act recklessly. The New Moon in your sign on December 12th offers the moment to set your intentions for the month and the coming year. The darkest time of the year is now, but the light will slowly return. What will you set your aim for as we move towards more Sun? Higher education, justice for all and international travel invite you in 2024. You are good at so many things. Venus enters your
sign shortly before the New Year begins. Love is the answer. Capricorn - Mercury, the planet of communication, enters your sign as December begins. Take advantage of all forms of expression until the thirteenth when Mercury goes retrograde in your sign for the rest of the month. It is best to carefully read the fine print of any agreements, make sure your intentions are understood and think twice before making big purchases. Aquarius - If you can remember back to March of this year when Pluto was in your sign it may help to begin to prepare for Pluto’s return to Aquarius in January. Pluto will bring intensity and breakthrough understanding on any falsely created reality in the world and in our own lives. Later in 2024, after another retrograde back into Capricorn for a bit, Pluto will finally move into Aquarius and remain there in Aquarius for almost the next two hundred fifty years. Big change comes then for everyone, especially internet related. Pisces - We live here, in a beautiful seaside community of fishermen, surfers and beach lovers. If you polled the population’s birthdays I bet you would find the water signs dominate. When the idea was floated in 2017 to permit a field of gigantic wind turbines erected in the waters off Montauk there was pushback by those who love the ocean and love to eat seafood. It made no difference to
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local and state officials who wanted the Deepwater/Orsted’s South Fork Wind Project. NYS officials say the project will bring needed green energy to NYS however high the electric bills go. Orsted has shut down their New Jersey Projects because the costs to build became unmanageable and their stock price plummeted however the South Fork Project moves forward. The deaths of so many marine mammals are not officially attributed to the implementation of the construction and operation plans that have pushed the fixed gear of commercial fishermen around on the ocean bottom but it was the visual of badly cut up whales that mobilized people who never experienced the weekly sight of dead whales and dolphins littering their beaches turning disgust to protest of the wind energy projects that now run most of the US east coast. Saturn is still at the beginning of its three year sojourn through Pisces. Neptune, the planet of imagination, creativity and spirituality, calls Pisces home and will move forward once more on December 6th. Neptune will leave Pisces for Aries in 2026 after a fifteen year stay. Neptune will grow more powerful as it gets closer to changing signs. It is the nature of the ocean to know no bounds and Saturnian structures may fall and projects could stop as Saturn and Neptune move closer in Pisces. For all those who work on the ocean, review your emergency checklists before leaving the dock. Check those gauges! Aries - Chiron is a comet known as the Wounded Healer and as a teacher. Chiron’s passage through Aries will push each of us to claim who we are. Aries is the “I AM” principle. While Chiron transits this sign, we will be given opportunities to heal what is standing in the way of expressing our true identity. In order to heal, however, we must become aware of the wound. Where are you wounded? Chiron moves forward the day after Christmas. This period is an opportunity to put a healing program into practice. Taurus - Jupiter, the planet of expansion, abundance and good luck will move forward again at the end December. Wait to put forward any plans for growth until after December 30th. There is an opportunity for a hot romantic night on December 9th. Perhaps go away for a dirty weekend, when Venus in Scorpio opposes Jupiter retrograde in your sign
easiest and could give us a rest from the troubles of this world but the second two weeks are difficult once again. Here and there are days to take some time and reflect. This day is one of them. Leo - Your love of children can be expressed this month by spending more time with yours and everyone else’s. Tap into the generous heart that you are well known for and make some kids happy. The Sun is your ruler and will provide the least light to the planet on the Winter Solstice on December 21st late in the evening marking the beginning of winter. Look for a travel deal because you need your Sun. Virgo - Try not to get caught in the crossfire of words that may fly and be flung back at you during the second half of the month. Virgo is very good at being Switzerland and defraying criticisms that come along. But if you have hurt someone with cruel or false words - own up to it and apologize. Even if what was said is true, try to project kindness. Libra- Venus will still be in your sign until December 4th. Make the most of the final few days by consolidating any proposed partnerships romantic or not. Your popularity has risen during the past month and you are in demand socially so do not hesitate to step out and have some fun. Scorpio- Venus will move into your sign on December 4th. Sexual encounters are available and not too hard to find. Be careful you know who you’re with and the surroundings are safe. There might be an almost Karmic feeling to sexual encounters. If you know your rising sign or where the moon falls in your natal chart, you should read the forecast for that sign also. If you do not know your birth chart and want to know about the promise of your natal chart, I can be contacted at jevansmtk@gmail.com for a reading. My natal promise readings are $100 for a half-hour and this month I am giving one free reading away to the first person who contacts me. Please add the words December Star Ledger Reading in the subject line. Be aware and be kind! Meditate on love for our world and remember to look up, the stars are all around us!
Gemini - The Full Beaver Moon of November fell in your sign after Thanksgiving. A hard aspect to foggy Neptune made communication for chatty Gemini elusive, or perhaps, outright wrong. Did you lie or did someone lie to you? The next full moon on December 26th may shine a light on communication. Cancer - The moon rules your sign. Your own Full Moon rises at 7:30 pm the day after Christmas. Go out and look up as it will be a blessed easy Moon for you. The first two weeks of the month are the
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December 2023
pastime than essential listening, but it’s a good reminder or a better excuse if you missed Crease the first time around.
am I to cast doubt on a good old revival? If Jackson’s efforts get Robert Plant to record a cover of Leslie Sarony’s “Ain’t it Grand to be Blooming Well Dead,” it’ll all be well worth it.
A step ahead at looking back. In April, I wrote about Joe Jackson’s 1981 album Jumpin’ Jive in a review of Taj Mahal’s recent album of early jazz songs. Since then, Rickie Lee Jones has issued a respectable collection of crooner tunes, and countless rockersof-certain-ages have done so before, generally with far lesser results than Jackson, Jones and Mahal (special dispensation given to Bob Dylan’s Shadows in the Night). It’s hard to imagine a rush to take on the Music Hall songbook, but Jackson was already ahead of the retro curve once. His new Mr. Joe Jackson presents: Max Champion in ‘What A Racket!’ delves into the distinctly British tradition with a set of songs purportedly salvaged from the dustbins of musical history. Music Hall was a particularly working class pastime from the middle 19th century into early in the 20th. The songs in a music hall show might run bawdy or morbid, but were almost always catchy and cheeky. The Beatles (or at least Paul McCartney) dabbled in the style with such songs as “Honey Pie” and “Your Mother Should Know.” More recently, the Vaudevillian tradition was namechecked in the movie Mary Poppins Returns with the song “A Cover is Not the Book” and The Royal Doulton Music Hall.sequence. But those are sanitized versions of what could get pretty caustic for its day. Jackson hews true to the spirit with these eleven songs (coming Nov. 24 from earMUSIC on CD, LP and download) and all in good fun. He puts on a thick cockney and the members of his 12-piece orchestra chime in on sing-along choruses. There’s a lot of bemoaning one’s lot, a soppy dedication to a hardworking mum and enough boozers and bangers to keep it on heavy rotation. The title track might be about London but it’s as fine an urban anthem as when Ralph and Ed sang “My Love Song to You” (“The garbage cans go clang / the radiator goes bang / and the vacuum cleaner makes a racket, too”) in one of The Honeymooners finer moments. Interestingly enough, it’s hard to find any information on Champion, but who
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Another decade, another blast of Bassoon. It’s hard to say just what a bassoon power trio should include, maybe hurdy-gurdy and viol de gamba. Brooklyn’s Bassoon’s got none of that, though. The heavy prog-metal Brooklyn band put out their debut in 2012 and somehow only now have decided to follow it up with Succumbent (Nov. 17, Nefarious Industries, CD and download). The band was formed in 2006 by guitarist Stuart Popejoy and Harvey Milk bassist Steve Tanner with a drum machine, but by the time of the first album (which actually included bassoonist Sara Schoenbeck on one track) had reconstituted as Popejoy on bass with guitarist Sean Moran and drummer John Mettam. They all have chops honed and sharpened on the NYC jazz scene, but they don’t let that get in their way. The new album blasts through a half dozen instrumentals in just over a half hour with pinpoint accuracy and pounding rhythms. They make complexity sound easy.
Nonbinary punk anxiety. Way back in 1978, when punk meant guitars, back before genders were fluid and before a self-proclaimed “all-American Jewish lesbian folksinger” named Phranc was making ambiguous waves in identity certainty, somewhere on the periphery of the L.A. punk scene, was born a band called Nervous Gen-
der. They were part of the city’s initial thrust of weirdo punk, the initial DIY freak-flag wavers that generally precedes the punk conformity to prescribed notions of nonconformity. Phranc, in fact, was an early member. Later members in the band’s early history included Paul Roessler (who went on to play with Nina Hagen), Don Bolles (who later played with 45 Grave) and an 8-year-old drummer named Sven Pfeiffer. In 1981, Nervous Gender released their first album, Music From Hell, on Subterranean Records. On Halloween, 2023, that album got an expanded reissue (double LP, CD, download from Dark Entries Records), swollen to 31 tracks with added covers of songs originally by the Sex Pistols, Lou Reed and Carly Simon. There’s nothing comfortable about Music From Hell. The music at times can be quirky and camp, almost with a show-tune sensibility. At other times, it can recall early, creepy DEVO or the atonality of fellow Los Angelenos Flipper. But song titles like “Regress for You,” “Exorcism” and “Bathroom Sluts” make clear that there’s little cute about it. Nervous Gender sang about depravity, maybe their own but more so society’s. It’s not for everyone, but they were early proponents of queercore and electropunk and are still active under the name “Nervous Gender Reloded.” It’s good to have them back on the map.
Recrease, remodel. Montrealer Kee Avil’s 2022 debut Crease was all over the place in the best of ways. It was a fascinating record, intimate but expansive, sort of electro-postpunk with a PJ Harvey vibe. She’s promising a follow-up for 2024, but as a holdover has released a remix EP (Nov. 15, Crease Remixed, Constellation Records, download and streaming) that’s as surprising as was the fulllength. The four tracks seem to strip the songs from the songs while keeping the sentiments in place. The strongest are Ami Dang’s reworking of “And I” and Claire Rousay’s dreamy “I, too, bury,” both ethereal settings that only hint at the originals. The EP is more
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Effed again. Toronto’s Fucked Up keeps rolling out the hardcore microdoses. With three songs totaling 10 minutes, the new Show Friends (Nov. 7, self-released, digital and streaming) shows them at one of their most likeable influence states, a mix of early Who and Husker Du, taut and a little more complicated than it needed to be. The third track, “What the Sun Saw,” is a glorious piece of reverberation and repetition, recalling the earliest days of psychedelic rock. I’m still waiting for the next in their epic Zodiac series, but in the meantime, I’ll take every morsel they decide to drop. Dolly can do what she wants. Her version of a rock star is full of bombast and that’s what she wanted. She didn’t call the album Rock Singer, after all. She’s shooting for the arenas. Dolly Parton loves a good costume and for Rockstar (Nov. 17, Butterfly/Big Machine, 2CD, 4LP, download) she’s all gussied up like a can of Rockstar energy drink. Her own “World on Fire” is an affective example and a high point of the album of mostly classic rock covers that come off as rote, amped-up exercises. Her “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (with Pink and Brandi Carlisle) means little in a world where we can still look up the cover Björk and PJ Harvey did at the BRIT Awards in 1994. And her version of REO Speedwagon’s “Keep on Loving You” (with REO singer Kevin Cronin guesting) can’t hold a candle to the cover of Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is” by the Peruvian band Thank the Lord for Satan that hit streaming services at the end of November. But it’s her album, and if she wants to interpolate “I Will Always Love You” on two different tracks, she can damn well do so. Parton playing dress-up games immediately pales against Parton being sincere. She also does a version of “Stairway to Heaven,” joined by Lizzo, but the version she included on her 2002 album Halos & Horns was better by a mile because she was doing the song, rather than copping the style. If it gives her more money to buy books for kids, support AIDS, COVID and cancer efforts and protect animals, then by all means. I’m not sure it deserves to be the highest charting album to date, though. Halos & Horns and the other two folk/bluegrass albums she did for Sugar Hill around the turn of the century are all available on streaming services. That’s where she’s the real star.
December 2023, Page 9
Quinn on Books Like Something out of “Harry Potter”
"Brooklyn Arcadia: Art, History and Nature at Majestic Green-Wood,” by Andrew Garn, Review by Michael Quinn
Cemeteries freak some people out. My mother, who grew up in Queens, is still traumatized from an experience she had as a little girl. Her family visited dead relatives every Sunday. Once, she peeked into a mausoleum window and saw a baby carriage. She never got over it. I grew up differently. Perhaps as a result of my mother’s unhappy memories, my family had no traditions around honoring the dead. We only occasionally went to a cemetery for a funeral. Yet, as an adult, I find cemeteries peaceful and seek them out wherever I go. 6 DEC Wednesday, 6:00 PM JOE O'HAIRE Recovery Benefit from $25 to $100 7 DEC Thursday, 7:00 PM Nancy Atlas Band $25 8 DEC Friday, 7:30 PM Talkhouse Storytelling Night $10
22 DEC FRIDAY The Cherry Bombs Friday, 8:00 PM $20
Several years ago, I visited Paris’s famous Père Lachaise. While many flock to the final resting place of musician Jim Morrison, I was almost hypnotically drawn to a particular, unremarkable-looking mausoleum. Through the ancient glass, I could make out the names Henri and Alice—the names of my maternal grandparents. A coincidence?
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As it turns out, Père Lachaise inspired the creation of a cemetery closer to home: Green-Wood, whose 478 acres border many Brooklyn neighborhoods, including South Slope, Windsor Terrace, Kensington and Sunset Park. In 1838, Henry E. Pierrepoint set aside Green-Wood’s original 175 acres while plotting the city’s grid. Crowds soon flocked to its green hills and glacial lakes. The place proved so popular for day trippers and picnickers that it, in turn, inspired the creation of Central and Prospect Parks.
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23 DEC SATURDAY The Hitman Blues Band Saturday, 8:00 PM from $10 to $15
Saturday, 10:00 PM Fast Five $10
23 DEC SATURDAY LHT Saturday, 10:00 PM $10
14 DEC Thursday, 06:00 PM Talkhouse Christmas Party! Donate a new toy! 15 DEC Friday, 08:00 PM Live Drag Show! w/Special Guest Richard!! from $45 to $60
29 DEC FRIDAY Roses Grove Band Friday, 8:00 PM $20
Friday, 10:00 PM Karaoke!! w/ JBM $10
30 DEC SATURDAY Student Body , 8:00 PM $20
16 DEC Saturday, 8:00 PM Sarah Conway & The Playful Souls Christmas Show $25
10:00 PM Nicolls Road $10
Saturday, 10:00 PM Ugly Sweater Party w/ Hot Date $15
31 DEC New Years Eve 7 pm Nancy Atlas Project from $75 to $100
20 DEC Wednesday, 07:00 PM Nancy Atlas Band! $25
31 DEC SUNDAY New Years Eve Party w/ Hello Brooklyn! Sunday, 10:00 PM $50
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While first and foremost a working cemetery, Green-Wood is also a National Historic Monument (with stunning examples of nineteenth-century architecture), an accredited arboretum (with thousands of trees) and an arts hub (offering site-specific installations, concerts, lectures, films and more). Green-Wood is open 365 days a year. While there are four different entrances, enter through the iron gates on Fifth Avenue for the grand experience. Walk up a sloping hill and look up as you pass through its gothic archway. Bright green monk parakeets, rumored to have escaped a JFK shipment decades ago, have made their twiggy home there. Seeing Green-Wood for the first time, a friend marveled, “It’s like something out of ‘Harry Potter.’” Still skeptical? A gorgeous new book might convince you to make the trek. “Brooklyn Arcadia,” a stunning coffee table book by fine art and editorial photographer Andrew Garn, celebrates Green-Wood’s 570,000 permanent residents (including artist Jean-Michel Basquiat, composer Leonard Bernstein and journalist Pete Hamill) and honors its art, history and nature. Garn has grouped his photographs by theme (architecture, trees, animals and so on), all of which seem sorted by a larger cycle of life, death and rebirth. Maps, architectural drawings and archival photographs round out the offerings, accompanied by detailed, informative captions and brief, insightful essays by historians, tour guides, urban naturalists, conservationists and the like, all seemingly gobsmacked by how incredible this place is. Garn got the idea for the book wandering around the cemetery during the pandemic. Each time he visited, he discovered something new. Battle Hill (the highest point in Brooklyn), with breathtaking views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. Stone angels crumpled in grief or raising their arms heavenward. Elaborate urns. Gnarled and twisted lichen-covered trees. Tiffany stained-glass windows. Towering obelisks. Ornate metal gates. Wildflower meadows dotted with beehives (a beekeeper told me the pollen from Linden trees gives the honey its distinctive minty flavor). Koi fish. Skunks. Garn’s camera takes us into mausoleums (above-ground tombs), vaults (built into hillsides) and catacombs (“a sort of apartment house for a middle-class clientele”)—Green-Wood hosts concerts in one of these because the acoustics are so incredible. It also offers trolley and walking tours, nature walks and birdwatching. Is there anything this place doesn’t do? That expansive sense of possibility seems hugely important to Green-Wood’s president, Richard J. Moylan, who wrote the book’s foreword. His father cleaned and repointed monuments, and Moylan has worked here pretty much his whole adult life, cutting lawns during law school and working his way up through the ranks. He writes, “Like New York City, Green-Wood is evolving while still honoring its past. (Actually, I would say Green-Wood has done a much better job with that second part.”) So, it seems he believes there’s even more that GreenWood can become. Even after 50 years, Moylan still feels inspired walking through Green-Wood’s arch. I feel it, too. A few steps in, and I just breathe easier. Is it all the trees or something more? As Garn writes, Green-Wood provides a “respite for the living, history for the curious and a moving sense of the human belief in some experience existing beyond death.” If you’ve never been, Green-Wood is worth a visit. And “Brooklyn Arcadia,” a special book about a special place, is a perfect way to commemorate your first trip. It would also make a lovely gift—for a nature lover, a history buff or a mom, who might be surprised at all the beautiful things a cemetery can be.
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December 2023
Jazz by Grella Best Jazz Albums of 2023
’T
is the season of the list, and for your local man in jazz that means putting together what were, for me, the best new and archival recordings I heard this year. And I mean “heard” seriously; I listened all the way through something like 250 albums released in 2023, and at least partially through an additional 400plus (those are records I started and didn’t finish, meaning they didn’t strike me as worth hearing). Not all of these were jazz, but most were, or at least involved extensive improvisation. It’s a good sample size. Lists like this are, of course, subjective. These are the records that I responded to strongly, and that response is always something somatic, a deep feeling in the body that mixes excitement, pleasure, satisfaction, complex emotions, and so much more. I am sensitive to what my hips want or something that gets my foot tapping, I’m sensitive to what to my ears are beautiful sounds that give me a feeling of powerful emotions in my torso, I’m sensitive to words and sung phrases that tickle the pathways that were formed by pop music and obsessions and heart aches from my youth. It’s all instinct, the critical part comes in when I try and explain it to myself and articulate that to anyone else. Everything on the list then is something that hit me in the body, even ravished me. I have my values when it comes to balancing respect for the past with exploration of the future, and while I don’t need jazz to swing, fantastic swing will always get me, it’s something my body always responds to—rhythm in general, but great, hot swing, man … I try and spread the love around; both Jason Moran and James Brandon Lewis put out two album this year, both of which are among the best, but I don’t want them to crowd out everything else that deserves attention. That’s also why this is a baker’s dozen—why just ten? Why not one a month, or more? This is also unranked. There are critics polls I submit to that require rankings, but as the best albums of the year these are all great and depending on mood some will be, temporarily, more attractive than others. The one exception is the very first album on the list, which is indeed the single best jazz album of the year, not just because the quality is so high and the pleasure so rich, but because it illuminates the past with new thinking and uses that foundation to create an entirely new space in the music. It doesn’t just accumulate music, it moves jazz and its entire history further along.
Best New Releases:
Jason Moran, From the Dancehall to the Battlefield (Jason Moran): Moran
Amagansett Star-Revue
by George Grella
"That’s also why this is a baker’s dozen—why just ten?" released this album January 1, and at the time I predicted it would be the album of the year, and as good as so much of the music has been, nothing has surpassed it. No one before has made such a clear case for how the early 20th century bandleader James Reese Europe is one of the ur-figures in jazz, and absolutely no one has shown how modern Europe was and can be. Brilliant, intellectually rich, joyful, and beautiful, this is a new classic of the jazz discography. James Brandon Lewis, Eye of I (Anti): I predict that Lewis’ For Mahalia, With Love (Tao Forms), will be a consensus critics’ pick for one of the best of the year, and it is great. But this tremendous album just hit me a little differently. Perhaps it’s my 2023 mood, I will go for something that threatens to tear apart the status quo. Matthew Shipp, The Intrinsic Nature of Shipp (Mahakala): Concentrated, lovely, endlessly deep solo piano improvisations. Tyshawn Sorey Trio, Continuing (Pi Recordings): Sorey, who also happens to be one of the finest composers in contemporary classical music, has been rethinking the piano trio, and this second release keeps the outline of classic jazz while completely reworking the insides. Heikki Ruokangas, Karu, (577 Orbit): A dark horse: solo guitar improvisations that show a fascinating, personal approach to what you can do with the instrument. John Blum, Nine Rivers (ESP-Disk’): A new release of an older performance, from a musician new to me. A thrilling solo piano improvisation set, bracingly uncompromising. Just at the edge of being too much, but just enough. Emilio Solla & Antonio Lizana, El Siempre Mar (Tiger Turn): Based around Lizana’s incredible vocals, this is an excellent small group modern jazz album in Latin jazz disguise. Todd Sickafoose, Bear Proof (Secret Hatch): This is a suite of compositions for a medium sized ensemble, and is beautifully crafted. Sickafoose eschews the kind of compositional flourishes I hear too much of, sticks with the jazz idiom and trusts his material and his ear, both of which are formidable. Kris Davis Diatom Ribbons, Live at the Village Vanguard (Pyroclastic): Davis’ ensemble has a special guest here in guitarist Julian Lage, but the
real star is turntablist Val Jeanty, who moves what is strong modern jazz into a whole new dimension. Mendoza Hoff Revels, Echolocation (AUM Fidelity): Punk-edged jazz rock that is fun, hip, and smart. Adam Birnbaum, Preludes (Chelsea Music Festival): Subtle and deep: Birnbaum selects details from Bach’s Preludes from the Well-Tempered Klavier and turns them into intriguing Latin jazz improvisations. Wadada Leo Smith, Fire Illuminations (Kabell Records): Every time Smith puts the trumpet to his lips, something brilliant comes out. Here it floats over vintage electric-Miles sounds. Christian Dillingham, Cascades (Greenleaf ): Bassist Dillingham is a young veteran on the jazz scene, and this is his debut album. His leadership and composing are both excellent, and the band is stylish.
Best Reissues
Sonny Clark, The Complete Sonny Clark Blue Note Sessions (Mosaic): A full demonstration of Clark’s importance. Sun Ra, Jazz in Silhouette (Expanded Edition) (Cosmic Myth): The one Sun Ra album to have if you can have only one, fully restored and complete. Derek Bailey & Paul Motian, Duo in Concert (Frozen Reeds): A late in the year revelation, improvised duos from two of the greats, something no one had ever imagined existed until November.
From the Dancehall to the Battlefield, Jason Moran
sical underground, on a global basis. There were two important publications that are a must for any serious jazz fan; Saxophone Colossus by Aiden Levy and Easily Slip Into Another World by Henry Threadgill and Brent Hayes Edwards. The former is an extensive biography of Sonny Rollins, our last titan. It’s a deeply researched personal narrative, with amazing material and stories from the subject himself. It doesn’t open up compete insight into Rollins’ incredible musical thinking, but that should be buttressed by his Notebooks that New York Review Books is publishing in early 2024. The latter is Threadgill’s memoir, and in a way it’s the opposite of the Rollins book. There are plenty of personal stories and and outline of his life, but this is a book about how a musician listens and learns and thinks and practices their art. This is exciting and meaningful to read, especially from Threadgill, one of the great modern composers and the kind of musician that is hard to find in today’s conservatory bred era—not just that he served in Vietnam, but that he never got a PhD, he learned by doing, doing everything, failing and getting up again, and turning it into beautiful music.
This was also a good year for books on music and on more than just jazz. The best book on music that I read on a subject other than jazz was High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape, by Marc Masters. This is an excellent and concise look at the cassette tape in music culture. Those of us lucky to be old enough to have painstakingly made individual mix tapes, or put tape over the tab openings on a crappy prerecorded album to tape something else over it, know the inimitable pleasures of the cassette. And Small (1/8 page) .... $100 any one who nevMedium (1/4 page) ... $175 er lived through Large (1/2 page) ... $350 this will be astonished to discover Extra Large (Full Page) ...$600 the very real culcost is per ad, ads are in color. Publication is monthly. tural importance You can create or own ad or tell us what you want and we'll design it. of the cassette. Deadline is the last day of the month for the next month's paper It’s no exaggeraOUR NEXT ISSUE COMES OUT IN DECEMBER tion to say that Call or text George at 917 652-9128 without cassettes or email gbrook@pipeline.com there would have been no real mu-
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The way it was 50 years ago is pretty much the way it is today by George Fiala
I
n the early 1970's I was in college. My parents built a summer house in Amagansett in 1968. One time I drove out with my college friend Harry and spent the weekend. My memory of that weekend is taking him to Montauk for drinks and pool at the Shagwong. I think we were hoping to see Mick Jagger. I'm the kind of person who likes to live in the past and when I go to the Shagwong these days, it's like the past is still there. In those days, both Harry and I enjoyed drinking beer. We also liked to shoot pool, and when I walk in these days the bar and the pool table seem pretty much as they were back then. Maybe the floor has been redone, I have a vague memory of sawdust. But to me it's the same feel. Plus, at least when I went for dinner last month, pretty much every song I heard could have been on the jukebox 50 years ago. Doors, Jefferson Airplane, Doobie Brothers, Van Morrison. My waitress said it could have been the bartender's choice, or maybe it was Pandora. But if not for the cellphone in my pocket, it could have been 1973. To be honest, I've never spent all that much time in Montauk. I don't remember whether there were so many pancake places in the old days. The one thing I do remember is the unfinished (at the time) tall building in the middle of the circle. I had heard that somebody planned a skyscraper but the crash of 1929 kept it unfinished for all those years. Here's an excerpt from a NY Times article I found from 1983: "The original architects were Schultz & Weaver, whose initial design was made to house the offices of Carl Fisher's Miami Beach Development Corporation. When Fisher began to promote Montauk in the mid-1920's as the ''Miami Beach of the North,''he had a replica of his Southern offices built at the hub of his new resort. From his penthouse suite, potential customers could enjoy panoramic views of the luxurious hotel, yacht club, marina, golf links, polo fields and neo-Tudor cottages he was constructing for the same sort of wellto-do clientele to whom he was advertising his ''Island
Paradise'' in Florida. ''The building was never fully occupied, except during World War II, when it was taken over by the Army and Navy as officers' quarters,'' said Albert R. Holden, a local publicist and the author and publisher of ''A Pictorial History of Montauk.'' ''Fisher went down in the crash of 1929,'' he said, ''and many of his projects were left unfinished.'" That left such a big impression on me that to this day I keep thinking that each real estate boom will end in disaster. All it's really done is kept me a renter all these years
I most remember is that, kind of like the annual expansion of the LIE back then, each year would see something new to see at Gosmans. Somebody who lived through all those years is Dan Rattiner. I highly recommend his memoirs.
Back to the Shagwong, I read that it first opened in 1936. As I said, I like the past, I like old cars (my dream is a 1952 Buick, although that old dream remains just that, so far). The sign speaks the 1930's, it is so cool. If it's not yet landmarked, it ought to be. Another reason I originally went there was the food. I pretty much believe that you could get a decent piece of broiled fish, fresh corn on the cob and some boiled potatoes for $5. To me the perfect Montauk meal. At my recent visit I ordered a "panseared striped bass steak" for $35. It came with some broccoli and a bell pepper and tomatoey sauce. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the dinner, and I'm not complaining about the price—comic books are no longer 12 cents either, but I did miss the simplicity of the earlier meal. There are simpler things, like a meatball hero, or chicken parmesan, but to me Montauk is all about fresh fish. To be fair, they do serve fish tacos, sea scallops and seafood paella, and some lobster items, but not that simple item of my youth. Next time I'll try the Fishwich, which is a fried or blackened piece of fresh catch in a bun. I'm guessing that will be closer to my taste. I did also enjoy a bowl of onion soup with cheese on the top. But the real draw is it's connection to the past, the Montauk of yore. As I mentioned, I was never really a Montauk person. The closest I come to it is that whenever we had guests come visit, we would go to Gosman's. What
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