The Road Less Traveled

Running Time: Films of the Cold War by Nora Sayre 60’s. The Fifties were a time when movies reflected and interacted with politics and international rivalry dominated American culture. The house on Un-American Activities Committee and the McCarthy investigations effected a cold war within the states. Film writers, actors and producers could find themselves blacklisted and unable to work until well into the Sixties. Nora Sayre captures the climate of the times as it is portrayed both directly and obliquely in the films of the era. Sharp-tongued in the manner of Dorothy Parker, Nora demolishes absurdities: “You can sometimes spot a Communist because his shadow looms larger and blacker than his adversary’s” (81). Nora shows that during World War II, Russia was depicted as a joyful, dancing country all dressed up in embroidered blouses. Soon after the war, the Soviet Union hit the screen as a bunch of murderous thugs. Hollywood felt the threat from Washington and produced anti-Soviet propaganda which was not always well received by the public. It turned out that the film had to be good in addition to being morally adjusted to the tenor of the times for the audience to respond. As the decade progressed, the movies turned toward domestic conflict. Nora heaps praise on On the Waterfront , and shows how pictures about such matters as father-son conflicts (vehicles for actors like James Dean) began to dominate the box office. Epics drawn from the Bible, like The Robe helped the populace find refuge at the cinema. So many of those fifties films I saw as a child. This fascinating book gave me a new perspective on an era I lived through. Here is a perceptive and often funny – in a devastating way – look at our recent past.

The Rough Riders by Theodore Roosevelt. Wikipedia tells me he went to Friends Seminary, so he must have attended in the 19thcentury. Elsewhere I read that he was homeschooled. When I lived in NYC, I often took guests to his home on 20thStreet. It certainly would have been convenient for his family to escape the rigors of homeschooling to send him to Friends. If anyone knows the details, let me know. In any case, the Quaker pacifist message did not seem to take with him (“to say the least,” said my brother, Joe Gonzalez), and this book reveals a soul longing to distinguish itself with valor on the battlefield. Teddy had the idea of forming a group of volunteers to help wrest Cuba from Spain. To that end he gathered an eclectic bunch of young men: Ivy League alums, rugged cowboys, and a few Indians. The cause sounded noble at the outset, but it turned out simply to replace one oppression with another, i.e. our own. The group trained in Texas and then took a train to Tampa to board the ship. Their voyage is complicated by having to deal with the needs of their horses and eventually, only Teddy’s horse made it to Cuba. Most of what I have read about combat makes it seem squalid and beyond dreadful. This is true in this conflict in Cuba, but Teddy Roosevelt manages to convey the honor and glory as well. “Gallant” is the adjective he most frequently uses to describe his troops and fellow officers. However muddy the terrain or inclement the conditions or painful the injuries, the men do not grumble. I was surprised by the occasional passages of lyricism. Here is one which I want to cite in its entirety. Teddy Roosevelt was a complex individual. (My husband, Don Routh, points out that though an imperialist, he did give us our national parks). I think this evocative description of sunrise during a storm shows that whatever else he might have been, he was gifted with words; “Generally the thunder-storms came in the afternoon, but once I saw one at sunrise, driving down the high mountain valleys toward us. It was a very beautiful and almost terrible sight; for the sun rose behind the storm, and shone through the gusty rifts, lighting the mountain-crests here and there, while the plain below lay shrouded in the lingering night. The angry, level rays edged the dark clouds with crimson, and turned the downpour into sheets of golden rain; in the valleys the glimmering mists were tinted every wild hue; and the remotest heavens were lit with flaming glory. “ (97)

Moby-Duck, the True story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalists, and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went in Search of Them , by Donovan Hohn ff. The title seems to tell it all but it neglects just one or two items – like the hilarity, the quirky literary allusions, the deep dives into science, the Ahab-like insanity, and the tension between adventure and domesticity. Don Quixote meets Rachel Carson meets Captains Courageous meets Do De Ducky with Ernie. Not to mention Melville. And plastic. First, I want to put this book into the context of my own pursuit of books by Friends Seminary authors. My friend Karen, who taught music at Friends in the seventies, is a close friend of Mary, the grandmother of an alum, Evan Drellich. Mary wanted Karen to be sure to tell me that Evan had written a book. She just thought I would be proud of him; she didn’t know about my little project. So I read Evan’s book and noticed Donovan’s name in the acknowledgements. As Evan’s English teacher, Donovan encouraged Evan to write. When I got Moby Duck, I was amazed to find that Evan had written an essay for Donovan’s English class, which turned out to be the genesis of this ambitious, obsessive quest. But I digress. Donavan’s hunt takes him on all manner of watercraft – catamaran, container ship, sailboat, icecutter –off the coast of Alaska, Hawaii, and up in Baffin Bay. He gets access as a helper, a journalist, or just an observer, and with each trip meets a team of colorful characters. He even goes to China to see how the toys are manufactured. The book tells you a lot about plastic ducks, but what I loved were the literary riffs. The Anecdote of the Jar by Wallace Stevens seemed to me a fitting image for how human jetsom transforms the seas (though it was about the land of Tennesee). In the epilogue, Donovan takes a scholarly look at the role of fatherhood in Moby Dick. The final scene shows Donovan and his young son throwing pinecones into the Hudson. Father and child imagining where the pinecones might go was the perfect fantasy ending to these real and fantastic adventures.