Archive for the ‘personal’ Category

Gerald and Sara

Thursday, April 12th, 2012

Two of the most interesting people of the first half of the 20th century were Gerald and Sarah MUrphy. They were rich expatriates but were far more. They were friends with everyone who mattered in the arts in the 1920s.

Gerald liked costumes and was completely unaffected by convention.

Gerald Clery Murphy and Sara Sherman Wiborg were wealthy, expatriate Americans who moved to the French Riviera in the early 20th century and who, with their generous hospitality and flair for parties, created a vibrant social circle, particularly in the 1920s, that included a great number of artists and writers of the Lost Generation. Gerald had a brief but significant career as a painter.

Gerald Clery Murphy (March 25, 1888 – October 17, 1964) born in Boston to the family that owned the Mark Cross Company, sellers of fine leather goods. His father had, in fact, suggested that the fine saddler, Mark Cross, enter the field of leather goods, other than saddlery. The business moved to New York and thrived. His father actually began as a saddle maker but managed to transition to the automobile era by becoming a maker of fine leather goods. The company, partly as a result of Gerald’s later efforts, remains successful 100 years later.

Gerald was an esthete from his childhood forward. He was never comfortable in the boardrooms and clubs for which his father was grooming him. He flunked the entrance exams at Yale three times before matriculating, although he performed respectably there. He joined DKE and the Skull and Bones society. He befriended a young freshman named Cole Porter (Yale class of 1913) and brought him into DKE. Murphy also introduced Porter to his friends, propelling him into writing music for Yale musicals.

His friendship with Cole Porter had a tremendous, not always positive, effect on his life.

Sara Sherman Wiborg (November 7, 1883 – October 10, 1975) was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, into the wealthy Wiborg family. Her father, manufacturing chemist and owner of his own printing ink and varnish company. Such ink product were highly important in the printing world of lithographs and Frank Bestow Wiborg, was a self-made millionaire by the age of 40. Sara’s mother was a member of the noted Sherman family, daughter of Hoyt Sherman, and niece to Civil War General William Tecumseh Sherman. Raised in Cincinnati, her family moved to Germany for several years when she was a teenager, so her father could concentrate on the European expansion of his company. The Wiborg family was easily accepted into the high society community of 20th century Europe. While in Europe, Sara and her sisters Hoytie and Olga sang together at high-class assemblies and were presented to the kaiser. Upon returning to the United States, the Wiborgs spent most of their time in New York City and, later, East Hampton, where they were one of the first wealthy families to build a home, on 600 acres.

The Wiborg fortune was based on the invention by her father of solid inks. These were widely used in printing.

Sarah and her sisters spent years in Europe prior to World War I and were the first family, certainly the first American family, to tour Europe by car. In spite of numerous breakdowns, they managed to travel across France and part of Spain in 1914.

In East Hampton Sara Wiborg and Gerald Murphy met when they were both adolescents. Gerald was five years younger than Sara, and for many years they were more familiar companions than romantically attached; they became engaged in 1915, when Sara was 32 years old. Sara’s parents did not approve of their daughter marrying someone “in trade,” and Gerald’s parents were not much happier with the prospect, seemingly because his father found it difficult to approve anything that Gerald did.

After marrying they lived at 50 West 11th Street in New York City, where they had three children. In 1921 they moved to Paris to escape the strictures of New York and their families’ mutual dissatisfaction with their marriage. In Paris Gerald took up painting, and they began to make the acquaintances for which they became famous.

Eventually they moved to the French Riviera, where they became the center of a large circle of artists and writers of later fame, especially Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, John Dos Passos, Fernand Léger, Jean Cocteau, Pablo Picasso, Archibald MacLeish, John O’Hara, Cole Porter, Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley.

The French Riviera was a favorite winter vacation spot for the English who determined what was fashionable at the time. In 1923, the Murphys convinced the proprietors of the Hotel du Cap to stay open for the summer so that they might entertain their friends, sparking a new era for the French Riviera as a summer haven. They purchased a villa and refurbished it, calling it the “Villa Americain.”

When the Murphys arrived on the Riviera, lying on the beach merely to enjoy the sun was not a common activity. Occasionally, someone would go swimming, but the joys of being at the beach just for sun were still unknown at the time. The Murphys, with their long forays and picnics at La Garoupe, introduced sunbathing on the beach as a fashionable activity.

They were accompanied by friends, including Pablo Picasso who seems to have had an unrequited passion for Sara. He painted her as a nude, although it is doubtful he ever saw her so. She was well known for wearing her large string of pearls, even at the beach.

His paintings include one, named “Pipes of Pan”, which includes a painted over image thought to be Sara.

A contemporary portrait of Sara suggests her beauty.

There are her pearls.

This will be continued.

The Derbyshire affair.

Wednesday, April 11th, 2012

John Derbyshire is a rather curmudgeonly writer whose books I love and who formerly wrote pieces for the National Review. He is a freelancer and writes for other publications. This got him into a firestorm of criticism over Easter weekend and resulted in his services being dismissed by National Review. I was outraged by the way this was done. The article in question, is undoubtedly controversial and, in a couple of places unnecessarily so. I have posted part of it at ChicagoBoyz. The issue revolves around a set of “rules he proposed for his teenage children (Eurasian, by the way. His wife is Chinese)

(1) Among your fellow citizens are forty million who identify as black, and whom I shall refer to as black. The cumbersome (and MLK-noncompliant) term “African-American” seems to be in decline, thank goodness. “Colored” and “Negro” are archaisms. What you must call “the ‘N’ word” is used freely among blacks but is taboo to nonblacks.

(2) American blacks are descended from West African populations, with some white and aboriginal-American admixture. The overall average of non-African admixture is 20-25 percent. The admixture distribution is nonlinear, though: “It seems that around 10 percent of the African American population is more than half European in ancestry.” (Same link.)

(3) Your own ancestry is mixed north-European and northeast-Asian, but blacks will take you to be white.

Derbyshire’s wife is Chinese and his kids are mixed race Chinese-Caucasion

(4) The default principle in everyday personal encounters is, that as a fellow citizen, with the same rights and obligations as yourself, any individual black is entitled to the same courtesies you would extend to a nonblack citizen. That is basic good manners and good citizenship. In some unusual circumstances, however—e.g., paragraph (10h) below—this default principle should be overridden by considerations of personal safety.

(5) As with any population of such a size, there is great variation among blacks in every human trait (except, obviously, the trait of identifying oneself as black). They come fat, thin, tall, short, dumb, smart, introverted, extroverted, honest, crooked, athletic, sedentary, fastidious, sloppy, amiable, and obnoxious. There are black geniuses and black morons. There are black saints and black psychopaths. In a population of forty million, you will find almost any human type. Only at the far, far extremes of certain traits are there absences. There are, for example, no black Fields Medal winners. While this is civilizationally consequential, it will not likely ever be important to you personally. Most people live and die without ever meeting (or wishing to meet) a Fields Medal winner.

So far, despite the outrage, this seems pretty benign to me. (Probably evidence of my own racism)

Here comes trouble:

(7) Of most importance to your personal safety are the very different means for antisocial behavior, which you will see reflected in, for instance, school disciplinary measures, political corruption, and criminal convictions.

He is writing about means but few readers made that distinction and many may have no idea what a “mean “is.

Here comes the really controversial part:

(8) These differences are magnified by the hostility many blacks feel toward whites. Thus, while black-on-black behavior is more antisocial in the average than is white-on-white behavior, average black-on-white behavior is a degree more antisocial yet.

(9) A small cohort of blacks—in my experience, around five percent—is ferociously hostile to whites and will go to great lengths to inconvenience or harm us. A much larger cohort of blacks—around half—will go along passively if the five percent take leadership in some event. They will do this out of racial solidarity, the natural willingness of most human beings to be led, and a vague feeling that whites have it coming.

(10) Thus, while always attentive to the particular qualities of individuals, on the many occasions where you have nothing to guide you but knowledge of those mean differences, use statistical common sense:

(10a) Avoid concentrations of blacks not all known to you personally.

(10b) Stay out of heavily black neighborhoods.

(more…)

Extreme Sailing

Saturday, March 24th, 2012

This should be a welcome change from the political news.

That looks like great fun except that I would want my hot shower.

Those guys are going about 30 knots. Day after day.

Dick Boggs

Thursday, March 15th, 2012

When I was a medical school junior, we had a rotation on the Neurology service at LA County Hospital. One of my classmates was planning a career in neurology but the reason it was so popular with the students like me who were interested in surgery was that we got to do tracheostomies. A number of patients with severe neurological lesions would require respirators or had trouble with airway secretions requiring a tracheostomy. This was our one chance to do surgery, even a minor procedure as things go. It was good practice and I later did a lot of tracheostomies, some quite difficult and rushed.

Our resident was a very interesting guy named Dick Boggs. He was tall and looked a lot like Orson Welles did when he was young and making “The Third Man.”Boggs was quiet and aloof but let us do trachs and work up any patient we wanted to. I had some very interesting cases. One was a woman who showed all the signs of alcoholic neuropathy, which is very similar to diabetic neuropathey. It was a popular rotation for juniors. Boggs was popular among the residents and was elected the president of the Interns and Residents Association, which under his leadership took on some of the characteristics of a union.

At the time, intern and resident pay was very low and, aside from a new dormitory that was built for single house staff, we were on our own. I was married with one child, born in March 1965, so I was really on my own. My wife quit her job as a teacher in January 1965 and I was working after hours doing histories and physicals at private hospitals for $7 per hour. Fortunately, my tuition was covered by scholarship but living expenses were tight. We lived on $200/month contributed by our parents, $100 from my father and the same from Irene’s parents. Half of that went for the rent of our two bedroom house in Eagle Rock, near Pasadena. I’m spending some time on details to emphasize what Boggs accomplished for us all.

(more…)

Andrew Breitbart

Thursday, March 1st, 2012

When a giant tree falls in the forest, everyone within a large distance is affected.

Andrew Breitbart

Andrew Breitbart died early this morning from a probable cardiac condition. He was only 43 and had a wife and four children. He was a happy warrior for conservative causes and the leftist blogosphere has erupted in abuse and vile vituperation. Even David Frum, who I once thought of as a conservative, has participated in the hatefest.

He was an early participant in the Drudge Report and basically designed the Huffington Post, which turned sharply left after his contribution. I met him briefly at an event for Cathy Seipp, another conservative warrior we could ill afford to lose. His loss will be very serious and his place hard to fill. We just don’t have the reservoirs of logic and common sense that we should have. Now that 47% of the population pays no income tax, we are very close to the tipping point that Alexis de Tocqueville predicted. “In other words, a democratic government is the only one in which those who vote for a tax can escape the obligation to pay it.”

More here

Ace of Spades reminded to quote Teddy Roosevelt on Andrew;

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

The debasement of the currency

Wednesday, December 21st, 2011

I see almost nothing about the severe inflation of the past 50 years. It is astonishing and annoying to see comments about the rise in the stock market by people who have no idea why this occurs. The peak of the Dow Jones Industrial Average in 1929, before the crash, was 381.17. The dollar was valued at 1/20 of an ounce of gold. Certainly, the Dow Jones Average has changed the companies included but the principle is same, to show the average value of the large companies that anchor the US economy.

In 1934, Roosevelt outlawed the private ownership of gold and took the country off the gold standard. He set the value of gold at $35 per ounce, a substantial devaluation. This gold price held until Nixon took the guarantee of the gold price away in 1971, placing the country, and the world economy on what is called “fiat money”. A number of friends of mine were buying Swiss gold francs in spite of the law against US citizens owning gold. They kept their gold coins in Switzerland, which charged negative interest on such accounts.

In 1969, I bought my first house for $35,000, in South Pasadena. IN 1968, I bought my first new care, a 1968 Ford Mustang convertible for $3050. I paid $95 / month to the LA County Hospital Credit Union and, in three years, the car was paid for. My first house in Mission Viejo, where I had decided to settle and open a surgery practice, cost $67,000. Three years later, the bank told me it had tripled in value. Jimmy Carter had been president two years.

Now cars now cost around $30,000, ten times the 1968 price. Some of this is related to safety measures, most of which are of little use. The plastic bumpers do little but provide expensive repair bills for minor fender-benders. What has been the history of inflation since 1968 ?

Here is a chart showing inflation since 1980 The chart shows a 50% decline in the value of the dollar since 1980. I think that may understate the case. The change in value of the dollar has also tracked the gold price since the 1920. In 1928, gold was $20 per ounce. In 2011, gold is valued at roughly $1700 per ounce. That works out to the dollar being worth 11.8 cents.

As I am personally dependent on a fixed income, supplemented by a variable additional income which has declined severely the past two years, inflation worries me. It destroyed the German economy in the 1920s.

Happy Fourth of July

Monday, July 4th, 2011

This is Omaha Beach in late June 2007. We were there for two weeks and spent a week in Normandy so the girls could get an opportunity to appreciate what the Fourth of July means. The National Guard Memorial is at the right edge of the photo.

Here is the US Military Cemetery at Omaha Beach. We spent an hour there.

A few days later, Cindy and I had our lunch at this cafe. It is on the south side of Pegasus Bridge and was intimately involved in the landing on June 6, 1944, of the British paratroopers in their gliders. The cafe owner, awakened by gunfire, opened his cafe for use as a first aid station. He had hidden wine in his garden and some of this was served to British wounded while they waited to be evacuated. His small daughter who witnessed the battle, still owns the cafe and made our lunch.

From Wikipedia– Arlette Gondrée, who now runs Café Gondrée, was a small child living in the home when it was liberated.

I hope the kids will remember this as more than a vacation.

Summer may be finally coming.

Friday, May 27th, 2011

It is finally warming up, four days before Memorial Day weekend. Last year, it snowed the weekend before. This year, I thought it would snow a week ago today as it was cold and looked threatening. Still, this is a resort because it is cool in summer so one must accept the cool of the spring, as well.

Last year, we noticed that the back yard was, in one spot, rather wet and almost swampy. By mid-July it was dry but this year has been wetter than last and I have engaged some workmen to build French drains behind my stone wall in the rear. Also, we had two very heavy rain storms last fall, one of which dropped about 12 inches of rain, and my small stream was partly washed out. My fence was washed out in the place it passes over the combined streams.

The repairs are under way and I will document them.

First, last April 2, a large tree in the back yard fell. Cindy was sitting with the deck door open and just heard a noise. Down it went. It was about 40 feet tall or more because it reached the back fence and crossed the access road behind it. The young fellow next door, who does that sort of thing, came over and offered to clean it up, including cutting the trunk into logs short enough for the fireplace.

A couple of weeks later, after the next snow melted, I noticed there was a spring flowing quite actively out of the root ball hole from the tree.

The water just welled up in the hole and then flowed down the hill to the stone wall. The ground below the stone wall was wet and almost marshy. Last year, it was much the same but it dried up by mid-July. This year is wetter and I don’t think it will dry up until later, if at all. The fact that the spring is still welling up from the root ball hole suggests why the tree fell.

If you compare this photo wth that of the fallen tree, you can see that we dug out the dirt behind the stone down to the level of the bottom of the wall. We then laid PVC perforated pipe along the bottom of the trench and connected it to drains at each end. The trench was then filled in with 3/4 inch rock. This is how you make a French drain. They can be quite deep but this one is only about two feet.

Here is one that drains into the creek just after it enters the yard from beneath the road. Even after a month, it is still flowing. The other drain is under the bridge and almost hidden by the rocks.

I noticed that the wood bridge that crosses the small stream was getting warped and we then found a large crack in one of the support beams. You can’t see it here but when the snow melted and we were looking at the bridge again, it was obvious that it was not doing well. After inspecting it, I decided to dismantle it and make “sister” beams to reenforce the structure. We also found that the ends were sitting on some old cement blocks with rotted out 4 x 12 beams below them. This is probably the second, if not the third, bridge there.

Here the beams have been “sistered” by bolting a 2 x 12 to each and bolting them together. After they are fixed together, the curve is restored using a Sawzall. The rails were removed to get at the beams and the entire bridge was lifted onto the lawn. The new footings for each side were dug out and forms set up. After the concrete dried and set the bridge was put back although the upstream rail is left off to assist in repairs to the stream bed and water wheel.

The water wheel is actually a fountain with an electric pump in the tank to pump water to the top and it then turns the wheel as it flows down. The pump was shot and the wheel and tank were all silted in so that was the next job.

A lot of rocks that lined the banks of the little stream had been washed away last winter so we collected some and rebuilt a footing for the water wheel. This will be supplemented with mortar and a block wall was built to shore up one side of the creek wall under the bridge.

That block wall will be covered with river rock to make it look more natural. The whole front of the house is river rock.

The next project after the bridge will be the small stream which was badly eroded in a couple of big storms last fall. After cutting down some ugly little trees to get at it, you can see that it was once lined on each side by river rock with some mortar to hold them. Many are still there but some have washed away.

When the ivy is pulled away, you can see some of the wall. I will get some more rock and do some repairs. The little stream ends in a tiny waterfall.

You have to look closely to see it but it is still flowing pretty well. Below that waterfall, there is a washout area and the two streams converge.

The area can be dug out and lined with stone. A small dam would back up a pond for the frogs and maybe even some small fish. There are a few large boulders which will help anchor the stream and divert flow away form the house.

Here is a better view of the two streams coming together. These are tiny now but in the heavy rain last fall, each was probably five to six feet deep and flowing at a huge rate.

Summer is here and I will document as I go along.

Some bragging

Monday, March 7th, 2011

I mentioned my daughter (the middle one) who had lived in Spain for a year in a comment to a short post. I thought I would add a photo and some more bragging.

This photo was taken in 2003 on a trip that included England and Italy. She is obviously standing next to the Rosetta Stone in the British Museum.

She is finishing a masters degree in library science at UCLA in June and then will move across town to USC where she will work on her PhD in History, including one more year in Spain. She wants to work on the study of and the cataloguing of Arabic manuscripts from the Andalusian period. She writes and speaks Arabic in addition to Spanish and Portuguese.

Lack of blogging

Saturday, March 5th, 2011

This blog, for anyone who stops by to look, has been kind of inactive the last two weeks. I am sick of politics, have been reading Rumsfeld’s book and, in general, am a bit depressed about the future. I fear stupidity may be winning in Wisconsin.