Happy 100th, Mr. Morganfield

Mr. Muckle or Happy Birthday, Bill Fields!

From "My Little Chickadee": Mae West and W. C. Fields

Whenever I read something biographical about W. C. Fields, he is always referred to as Bill. I can imagine him at a card table with his pals like Gene Fowler and Dave Chasen, mumbling into his deck and all his pals calling him Bill. Like only the most inside of the insiders would call him Bill. The same people who called Gary Cooper "Coop" or Hitchcock "Hitch".

But then, I've heard him called Bill on radio shows from the '40's, where he shared the microphone with Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. Don Ameche calls him Bill. As do all the others. (Wait- what others- it's just Edgar Bergen. But such was the power of radio in the 1940's.)  After awhile, it's jarring when someone calls him W. C. Too slick, too agent-y.

Bill Fields, a remarkably gifted man, was born January 29th 1880 and died on Xmas Day, 1946. He drank to excess, to the point where it not only threatened his ability to do his job,  but also to the brink of death and beyond.

Towards the end, clearly showing the effects of alcohol.

He had a remarkable relationship with alcohol and was very high- functioning. But he was pretty much drunk during most of his waking hours. Considering that he authored most of his films, under ridiculous pseudonyms, this is quite an achievement.

He was born into abject poverty, much like Chaplin, whom Fields admired but distrusted ("He's a goddamn ballet dancer!"). The story of his childhood was so painful that he seldom told it.

By the time he was in his mid- twenties, he was arguably the best juggler in the world. He was a star of the Zeigfeld Follies, an international headliner, second only to Will Rogers. In those days, performers could use the same act over and over, seldom changing it at all from night to night. Fields was different. He was constantly perfecting techniques, juggling difficult objects with seeming indifference.

In the movies when he juggles, the audiences feign indifference or even disgust. This is the cruel beauty of the W. C. Fields world: nothing, not even the world's greatest juggler is extraordinary to this bunch.

Here he recreates his Zeigfeld's routine in this clip from "The Old Fashioned Way."



He worked out a pool table act with a crooked cue stick that he controlled perfectly. Eventually he started making films.  "Pool Sharks", from 1915, shows a lean, mustachioed Fields, the vaudevillian in the process of transforming into the movie comedian.

Bill Fields probably got away with more "outside" stuff than any comedian/ writer/ director of the times, and those times, in particular, were full of c/w/d's, from Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, Laurel, to lesser knowns like Charlie Chase and Harry Langdon.  Certainly he had the more bizarre sense of humor.

There is this scene, this amazing scene- no- the most amazing scene in all his films- no- the comic tour de force of all his movies that features Mr. Muckle the blind man, from the comic masterpiece "It's a Gift":

Such was W. C. Fields' gift. To me, Mr. Muckle the blind man has an invincibility second only to Superman. The intensity of his destruction is equalled only by Fields' utter helplessness in the face of the unstoppable force of Mr. Muckle the blind man.

This is an incredible comic premise, ahead of its time, whatever that means, in that we are urged to suspend our sympathies toward the handicapped, the innocent, the meek that will inherit, etc. and guard ourselves against the apparently unstoppable forces of a blind coot with a cane and an ineffectual hearing aid. Can I even say blind coot without engendering offense?

It doesn't matter, because I don't have to say anything. W. C. Fields already said it.

Originally I had hoped to have this ready by January 29th, Bill Fields' birthday in 1880, but events overtook me and I wasn't able to finish it in time. Thus the discrepancy.

I went to my very first W. C. Fields movie with my grandfather, a man so serious that his own daughter could describe him as dour.  But he wasn't, not really, because he roared throughout the movie. Maybe I didn't appreciate the nuanced, jaundiced view of life in the way that he did, or that I do now, but I remember laughing along with him at all the same places, so I must have gotten some of it. 

The gift of genius, Bill Fields. Thanks.

Diego Rivera's Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park

Diego Rivera, 1886- 1957:

Photographs of Moments I Wish I had Witnessed, pt. 1

These are from Retronaut:

This is a picture of a man dressed as a fly.

Evidently the Hippo was very docile and enjoyed towing the cart. 

I've always had a weakness for women who could make a letter "S" with their bodies.
This is "LaSylphe".

Courtesy LA Chamber of Congress, of course.

The Shorpy Collection: Movie Theaters of Washington, DC

These pictures made me think that maybe, one foggy night, driving home from some gig, I could take a wrong turn and there I'd be... ah, well... you know the rest.

Thanks to Shorpy. What a website!

Covarrubias

Covarrubias by Nicholas Muray

José Miguel Covarrubias Duclaud (22 November 1904- 4 February 1957) , aka Covarrubias: master of the disturbing art of caricature.

In 1924, at the age of 19, Miguel Covarrubias came to this country on a grant from the Mexican government. He immediately found favor with luminaries such as Carl Van Vechten and began his career as chief caricaturist for Vanity Fair, at the time just beginning to print color in the magazine. From there he expanded to The New Yorker and ultimately Vogue Magazine.

His caricatures were a combination of impeccable technique, whether in charcoal, pen and ink, or oils combined with a scathing take on the subject. His work was an enormous influence on the great Al Hirschfeld and changed the landscape of caricature forever.

 Covarrubias also designed sets for operas, painted "serious" canvasses, wrote and illustrated books, and authored a serious text on the island of Bali, where he and his wife, Rosa Rolando maintained a residence. He was also an important scholar of Olmec art and Balinese art.

Rosa and Miguel

However, it will be his remarkable caricatures that we will ultimately remember, a reminder that the art and practice of satire needs to be revived, probably now as much as ever before.

From Vanity Fair's series of impossible interviews: Haile Selassie and Joe Lewis, 1935. Covarrubias was fascinated by African- American culture, but as prominent a leader as W. E. B. DuBois hated his work.

This painting of Emily Post, which seemed to deliberately demean everything she stood for- good taste, manners, decorum- turned out to be a favorite of the subject.
She wrote a note to Vanity Fair thanking them for all the publicity.

The Meter Men

THE Meters. The Funky Meters. Geo/ Leo. And now the Meter Men.

All of these groups are off- shoots of the original Meters, the legendary quartet from New Orleans, whose musicianship dominated the sound of NOLA music from the mid-sixties through the early nineties.

Due to legal hassles, personal differences and the usual troubles associated with a band of equally talented virtuosos, the original Meters, with George Porter on bass and vocals, Leo Nocentelli on guitar and vocals, Zigaboo Modeliste on drums and vocals and Art Neville, organ and vocals, in order to keep the music alive (and make a living), have experimented with various permutations. And all those permutations have been subtly renamed, so the diehard Meter fan will know in advance who will or at least could be playing in the group.

Leo, Zig, Art and George

If it's billed as the Meters, then it's the group listed above. This is usually a very special event, reserved for large gigs only. Obviously the Meters command way more money than the other aggregations. The Funky Meters, not seen much anymore, subbed in Brian Stolz for Leo and Russell Batiste for Zigaboo.
When Art Neville began experiencing chronic health problems, the remaining trio toured as PBS (Porter, Batiste and Stolz).

Now we have the Meter Men, featuring George, Zig and Leo along with keyboardist Page McConnell, of Phish.

Mr. McConnell does a good job, somewhere between David Torkanowsky, on the "as good as you can get" end of the scale, and Kevin Walsh on the "I guess that's OK" end of the scale. Standing in for Art Neville is a completely thankless job: if anyone could be called the founder of the Meters, it would be Art, whose story is the history of post- big band Rhythm and Blues in New Orleans. Not only is he the prototypical funk organist, but he is also the voice of the Meters, the only truly great singer in a band where everyone loves to sing.  The other Meters have gotten used to singing Art's songs by now so I doubt the general public would be aware of the difference, but the Meters' cognoscenti can tell right away.

Art Neville in command

I believe Art may still be active in the current "Aaron-less" version of the Neville Brothers, but I couldn't confirm this.

Even without Art, the Meter Men is a powerfully good ticket. As good as Russell Batiste is, and he's amazingly good, there's just something about Zigaboo's drumming that puts these songs over the top. It's loose, confident and laid- back. In a town celebrated for great drummers, like Earl Palmer, Smokey Johnson, Ed Blackwell, Idris Muhammed and "Hungry" Williams, just to name a few, Zigaboo remains a standout.

Enough has been written about George Porter to fill several books. Perhaps the most influential member of the group musically, although that's a tough argument to sell, he has become the go- to bass player for all the well- known "jam" bands, due to his ability to improvise, play solos that actually make sense and, above all, hold down a groove.

Which brings us to Leo Nocentelli. In researching this, I read that Leo had played on several Motown records while still in his teens. I'm guessing that was during the infamous Motown migration by a group of New Orleanians led nominally by singer Jo Jones of "You Talk Too Much" fame. Leo is, however, an acquired taste within the group. He is still the primary soloist, capable of long, drawn out excersizes in fast fingering and circular riffs. He is also the glue that holds the show together, often the most exciting player and evidently the main composer of most of the Meter's signature instrumentals.

Here's a good example of a typical Meter three song medley, this one featuring the Meter Men line- up:



It starts off with an unaccompanied Leo, playing simple riffs in the Jimmy Reed style and suddenly launching into the intro for "The Hand Clapping Song" and the rest of the band joining in.

Leo plays a five minute guitar solo complete with all trademark licks, and at about 10:30, the band segues into "The World Is a Little Bit Under the Weather", aka "The Doodle- Oop Song". McConnell plays a tasty organ solo and then another seamless segue into "You've Got to Change".

This is more than twenty minutes without a break, and I'm sure they keep playing long after this video runs out. In New Orleans sets usually last ninety minutes to two hours, with very little or no pause between songs. The Meters were no exception. In a music scene where a band's nightly gig might not even begin until 4AM,  musicians learned to play long sets in order to keep the patrons happy and drunk. Add to this that often club owners were known gangsters and you have the perfect recipe for non- stop music.

The Meter families' repertoire has changed little over the years. Though they may occasionaly do a new-ish Leo song, as they did in San Francisco's Warfield Theater in 2000, for the most part they stick to the classics, with a lesser known song thrown in the mix. It's to their credit that they never seem to tire of these grooves, churning out their funky riff- laden tunes night after night.

New Orleans, the Meters... one is the other and all is one.


Recommended listening Department:

All Meters recordings are cool, but I'm partial to Rejuvenation, 

The Meters join with Maceo and the JB Horns for these live tunes recorded in Europe. Great David Torkanowsky keyboards throughout, with the rare combination of Leo and Russell Batiste.

Leo and Zigaboo's version of the Funky Meters, simply called Nocentelli. Nick Daniels on bass and vocals with Kevin Walsh on keyboards round out the band.

Definitive Funky Meters Live!