Fort Pulaski National Monument

Posted on March 17, 2022 by admin

Today turned out to be an pleasant early spring day. There will be more winterish days to come, of course, and the nights are still chilly, but I’ll enjoy the warmth as much as I can. Had a very civilized lunch on the deck today, including casarecce and mussels, Greek olives and mineral water.

American schoolchildren learn, or at least used to learn, the story of the early 1862 battle between the Monitor and the Virginia (a.k.a., the Merrimack, which does have a euphonious ring when paired with the Monitor). That incident demonstrated the vulnerability of wooden hulls to armored ships, and the navies of the world took note. That was my takeaway about the Battle of Hampton Roads.

I don’t remember ever being taught about Fort Pulaski, which is on Cockspur Island in the Savannah River, and whose short siege, only about a month after Hampton Roads, revolutionized warfare in its own way. If I ever learned that before, I’d forgotten. So I relearned it by visiting Fort Pulaski National Monument outside Savannah on the morning of March 7.

“On April 10 [1862], after the Confederates refused [Union Capt. Quincy] Gillmore’s formal demand to surrender, the Federals opened fire,” the NPS Fort Pulaski leaflet says. “The Confederates were not particularly alarmed; the Union guns were a mile away, more than twice the effective range for heavy ordnance of that day.

“But what the fort’s garrison did not know was that the Federal armament included 10 new experimental rifled cannons, whose projectiles began to bore through Pulaski’s walls with shattering effect.”

Before long, within about a day, explosive shells were hitting near the fort’s main powder magazine, and the Confederate commander, Col. Charles Olmstead, surrendered. Though state-of-the-art when constructed in the 1830s and ’40s, the brick fort proved in 1862 to be as obsolete as wooden-hulled ships. Armies of the world took note.

Whatever its role in the history of warfare, Fort Pulaski is a cool relic here in the 21st century. Built of an estimated 25 million bricks, the NPS says, and restored in the 20th century by none other than the energetic lads of the CCC. We arrived via the causeway that crosses to Cockspur Is. and soon approached the fort. Which has a moat.

And a drawbridge.

How often do you get to say you’ve crossed a moat on a drawbridge?

Though vulnerable to new cannon tech in the 1860s, the fort’s thick walls are impressive all the same.

On one of the ceilings, some Union garrison soldiers — who had little to do, since the Confederacy never tried to take the fort back — left some patriotic graffiti.

It’s a little hard to read, but includes a star and says THE UNION NOW AND FOREVER.

This is the entrance to the powder magazine that was in danger of blowing up real good during the bombardment.

The five walls enclose a sizable bit of ground.

Most of the monument’s exhibits are inside the walls, including ones about ordinary soldiers’ quarters, the commanding officer’s quarters (definitely better), the infirmary, the chapel, how the garrison entertained itself (considering that leave in Savannah was out of the question) and more.

A good many cannons still stand at the fort, ready to greet the tourists who show up.

A plate on the cannon below indicated that it was made by the Ames Manufacturing Co. of Chicopee, Mass., a major maker of side arms, swords, light artillery and heavy ordnance for the Union.

This cannon is perched atop the upper level of the walls (the terreplein), which surprised me by being accessible to tourists. There are no guardrails, so you take your chances.

We enjoyed good views of the surrounding territory, Cockspur Island that is, from up there. That kind of view would seem to be an important feature in a fort. I expect most of the flora now seen wasn’t there when Pulaski was an active fort.

Near the entrance of the fort is a small cemetery.

It includes mostly unmarked individual graves, though there is a small stone honoring a man named Robert Rowan. It says:

In Memory of ROBT. ROWAN of No.
Carolina, Lieut in 1st Regimt of Artilrst &
Engirs of the U. States Troops who died
March 3d 1800, Aged 25 Years.

Obviously not involved in the Civil War, he was stationed at Ft. Pulaski’s predecessor, Ft. Greene. I’m a little amazed that the stone still stands, and even the location of Rowan’s resting place is known, considering that a hurricane destroyed that fort only four years after he died.

Also buried in the cemetery are 13 of the Immortal Six Hundred, Confederate POWs held at Ft. Pulaski in 1864 and ’65. A much newer stone at the end of a sidewalk — erected in 2012 by the George Division of the Sons of Confederate Veterans — honors these men.

A number of short walking paths lead away from the fort. We took a walk on one.

Skies were clear and temps warm, about 80 F. Luckily, it seemed to be a little too early in the spring for many bugs to be around. I expect bugs were a major nuisance (and danger, considering the likes of malaria) for the fort’s garrison in those pre-DEET days.

The path we walked eventually led, by way of the aforementioned John Wesley memorial, to the Savannah River, near where it empties into the Atlantic. Across the way is South Carolina.

Signs marked the beach closed, so we didn’t venture on to it. Still, frame it right, and it looks like you’re at a beach resort.

At least, that’s what Ann claimed as she sent pictures to her friends.

Two Savannah Cemeteries, One Featuring Button Gwinnett

Posted on March 16, 2022 by admin

Both of the Savannah cemeteries I visited last week were unusual in one way. Not that one was a burial ground dating back to colonial times and other was founded by Victorians who believed that cemeteries should be beautiful places of respite; I’ve encountered both in other cemeteries.

Not the weathered stones and crumbling bricks of the colonial cemetery, nor the enormous trees and bushes and flowers of the 19th-century cemetery, nor the interesting funerary art, nor even the fact that 21st-century burials continue in the latter cemetery. I’ve seen all that, in one way or another, at burial grounds in places as varied as Austin, Boston, Buffalo, Charleston, Chicago, Dayton, Fairbanks, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, New York, Richmond, San Antonio and more.

Rather, living people — besides me and the occasional jogger or groundsman — populated both Colonial Park Cemetery in downtown Savannah and Bonaventure Cemetery on the eastern edge of the city. With such notable exceptions as Arlington National Cemetery or Koyasan in Japan, which are destinations in their own right, cemeteries tend to be mostly devoid of living people.

As the name implies, Colonial Park functions as a downtown park, with people crossing it in some numbers, and a few looking around (though my pictures don’t really reflect that). As for Bonaventure, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil seems to have put it on the tourist map. When I was there, not only did I see people alone and in pairs wandering around, but also a few guided-tour groups (again, I didn’t take many pictures of them).

The six-acre Colonial Park has been a cemetery since 1750 and no one new has been buried there since 1853.

Plenty of weather-worn stones.

The cemetery also sports a number of brick tombs, the sort you sometimes see in 18th- and 19th-century grounds.

A number of stones were embedded in a brick wall marking one of the boundaries of the grounds, which you don’t see that often.

I went looking for only one specific memorial, and I found it by looking it up on Google Images and then wandering around, looking for it in person.

Button Gwinnett. Button and I go back a ways. My 8th grade history teacher, the one-armed Mr. Robinson, tasked us to write a report on one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence — but not a famous one like John Hancock — and I picked Gwinnett, maybe for his curious name. Very little information on him was available in those pre-Internet days, but I made the best of it. I think.

The memorial’s plaque, put there in 1964, says that Gwinnett’s remains are “believed to lie entombed hereunder.” So his whereabouts aren’t quite known. Close enough, I figure.

More recently, Gwinnett had his 15 minutes of posthumous fame in the form of a late-night TV gag.

The man who shot Gwinnett to death in a 1777 duel, Lachlan McIntosh (d. 1806), is also buried at Colonial Park, but I didn’t look for him. McIntosh was, incidentally, acquitted of murdering Gwinnett. Tough luck, Button.

I arrived at Bonaventure about an hour before it closed for the day, so I saw it illuminated by the afternoon sun.

I recognized the paths that cross the cemetery as former thoroughfares for horse-drawn carriages, either hearses or otherwise.

As the second image illustrates, azaleas were in full bloom across the grounds, which was also populated by Southern live oaks, palms and much other flora. In its lushness, and Spanish moss, the cemetery reminded me of Magnolia Cemetery in Charleston, but without the water features or alligators.

The 160-acre Bonaventure, formerly the site of a plantation of the same name, became a cemetery in 1868, with the city acquiring it in 1907. It’s still an active cemetery.

There aren’t many mausoleums, though there are some sizable memorials and a little funerary art.

I didn’t go looking for notable permanent residents. Who, after all, could compare with Button Gwinnett? But I did see some intriguing stones.

There’s a story in that stone, turns out. More than one. For his part, William Boardman Estill was a veteran of the Revolution, as noted on the back of his stone.

He was also the father and grandfather of some notables, who are listed on the stone, which looks like a fairly recent replacement (erected by the Sons of the American Revolution, would be my guess). William Estill was editor of the Charleston Daily Advertiser, while John Holbrook Estill was editor of the Savannah Morning News, besides being wounded at First Manassas.

Somehow William B. Estill got caught at sea in the great hurricane of 1804, a storm I’d never heard of till now. Bad luck for him, since “the hurricane of 1804 was the first since 1752 to strike Georgia with such strength. Damage to ships was considerable, especially offshore Georgia,” says Wiki, citing a book called Early American hurricanes, 1492–1870 (1963).

Damage to coastal Georgia and South Carolina was also considerable, including the destruction of Ft. Greene on Cockspur Island, later the site of Ft. Pulaski.

“Once the Revolutionary War ended, the new United States would build a fort on the site of Fort George in 1794-95,” the National Park Service says. “This new fort was constructed very much like Fort George (earth and log) and would be named for the Revolutionary War hero, General Nathaniel [sic] Greene. The life of Fort Greene would be short and tragic. In September 1804, a hurricane swept across the island, washing away all vestiges of the Fort.”

Small Slices of Historic Savannah

Posted on March 15, 2022 by admin

Nice day here in northern Illinois — mid-50s degrees F. by early afternoon, little wind and bright sun. I ate lunch on my deck today for the first time this year.

I haven’t read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1994), nor seen the movie based on the book (1997). Maybe I should, if for no other reason than we happened by the prime locus of the story during our visit to Savannah, as we passed through Monterey Square: the Mercer House, where one Jim Williams shot one Danny Hansford to death in 1981.

Quite a story. After four trials, Williams was ultimately acquitted of murder, though he didn’t live much longer after the acquittal. The story lives on, however, at least as something that still seems to attract tourists to Savannah.

“According to records from Visit Savannah, about 5,010,000 people visited Savannah in 1993, spending $587 million; in 1994, visitors increased to 5,029,000, contributing $629 million to the local economy,” the Savannah Morning News reported in 2019. “The following year, in 1995, visitor numbers jumped to 5,348,000 and spending increased to $673.4 million.”

Could be a coincidence, though the News notes another bump up in visitors after the movie came out, without citing any numbers. Besides, it’s completely believable that people show up at a place in the wake of a bestselling book or popular movie featuring the place, and the more lurid the story, and exotic the setting, the better.

We wandered by plenty of other intriguing buildings in Savannah, some on our guided tour, others by happenstance. Our guide had a knack for telling stories about Savannah history, which has its fascinations. But he wasn’t so keen on the architecture of the city, which is visibly rich and varied.

Within sight of Johnson Square is Beaux-Arts Savannah City Hall, designed by local architect Hyman Witcover and completed in 1906. We didn’t get any closer, but it was still easy to see the detail that I liked: the gold leaf dome, reportedly Dahlonega-area gold.

A building on Chippewa Square: the Philbrick-Eastman House, these days corporate headquarters for a chain of convenience stories.

“Built on one of Savannah’s original trust lots by Irish-born architect Charles B. Cluskey, the house features Doric columns, 14-foot ceilings, elaborate crown moldings and the original oak floors,” the company web site notes.

Also on Chippewa Square, 15 W. Perry St., built in 1867. You might call it an example of the garden-variety historic structures that populates so much of the historic district. Doesn’t make the must-see lists, but its like are still essential to the historic fabric of the city.

Just north of Forsyth Park on Bull St. is the Armstrong House, dating from 1919 and built for Savannah business mogul George Ferguson Armstrong. Or, as the current owner, hotelier Richard C. Kessler, is wont to call the place, the Armstrong Kessler Mansion.

“Designed by world-renowned Beaux Arts architect Henrik Wallin, the original Armstrong Mansion is the only Italian Renaissance Revival home in Savannah listed in the authoritative A Field Guide to American Houses,” the mansion’s web site says. It was restored in the 1960s by Jim Williams, he of such protracted legal problems in the 1980s, and the 2010s restoration undertaken by Kessler left it looking spiffy indeed.

In the Armstrong yard sits a copy of “Il Porcellino,” the bronze wild boar of Florence.

A remarkable number of copies exist in places as diverse as Sydney Hospital in Australia, Butchart Gardens in British Columbia, Country Club Plaza in Kansas City and a lot of other places, according to Wiki. I won’t bother to try to confirm all of them. Curiously, the page doesn’t list the one in Savannah.

Besides the Methodist church we managed to enter — just as Sunday services ended — we passed by a number of religious sites that were closed. On Bull St. is the Independent Presbyterian Church.

There’s a presidential connection. Maybe two. The original church on the site, according to the Georgia Historic Commission plaque on site, was dedicated in 1819 “with impressive services that were attended by President James Monroe.”

That church burned down late in the 19th century. The current church was completed in 1891, with the architect, William G. Preston, following “the general plan of the former structure,” the plaque notes, adding that “Ellen Louise Axson, who was born in the manse of the Independent Presbyterian Church in 1860, was married in 1885 to Woodrow Wilson… in a room in the manse.”

On Monterey Square is Congregation Mickve Israel, one of the oldest synagogues in the U.S.

The current Gothic Revival structure — unusual for a synagogue building — was designed by Henry G. Harrison and completed in 1878 (some interior shots are here).

The Jewish presence in Savannah, and indeed Georgia, started much earlier, when a group of mostly Sephardic Jews of Spanish and Portuguese extraction arrived in the brand-new colony in 1733. They had previously fled to London after finding the Iberian peninsula inhospitable (they did expect the Spanish Inquisition, it seems), and it was this group that organized the synagogue in 1735.

The first trustees of Georgia banned Jews (and Catholics) from the colony, but that had no more effect than banning rum, which they also tried to do. Gen. Oglethorpe apparently decided that he needed all the colonists he could get. The colonists apparently decided they needed all the rum they could get.

Another (tenuous) presidential connection is cited on the synagogue’s Georgia Historic Commission plaque:

“In 1789, the Congregation received a letter from President George Washington which stated in part: ‘May the same wonder-working Deity who long since delivering the Hebrews from their Egyptian oppressors, planted them in the promised land — whose providential agency has lately been conspicuous in establishing these United States as an independent nation — still continue to water them with the dews of Heaven and to make the inhabitants of every denomination participate in the temporal and spiritual blessings of that people whose God is Jehovah.’ ”

Man, presidents don’t write letters like that anymore.

We wandered by the Cathedral of St. John of Baptist twice, but found it closed each time. That’s too bad, since I understand the interior is striking, as depicted in this breathless description.

Religious émigrés founded this congregation as well, in this case those fleeing revolutions in France and Haiti in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

The current building dates from the 1870s, when Ephraim Francis Baldwin designed the church in a High Victorian Gothic style. His was an interesting practice: he specialized in churches, but also railroad stations. There was growing demand for both back then, after all.

“The Church of St. John the Baptist became a cathedral in 1850 when the Diocese of Savannah was established with the Right Reverend Francis X. Gartland as its first bishop,” its Georgia Historic Commission plaque says. “The Cathedral was dedicated at this site on April 30, 1876. A fire in 1898 destroyed much of the structure. It was quickly rebuilt and opened again in 1900. Another major restoration took place in 2000.”

Savannah Walkabouts

Posted on March 14, 2022 by admin

Unusual, for a U.S. city anyway, the streets of the Savannah Historic District form a grid linking a series of large green squares, meaning that in our time you’ll encounter a pleasant city park every few blocks, once you’re in the city center. The modern streets and squares hew to a plan implemented by James Oglethorpe, founder of Georgia.

“Oglethorpe laid out the city around a series of squares and laid out the streets in a grid pattern,” the Georgia Historical Society says. “Each square had a small community of colonists living around it and had separate lots dedicated to community buildings.

“Noble Jones was the first surveyor in the new colony and helped Oglethorpe fulfill his dream of a planned city. Oglethorpe also worked with Colonel William Bull to lay out the new city. Bull came from South Carolina and served as the city’s first architect, overseeing the design and construction of the earliest buildings.”

We did two long walks through the historic city, one each last Sunday and Monday. The first walk was guided, following a straight course on Bull Street from Johnson Square through to Wright Square, Chippewa Square, Madison Square — crossing the remarkably picturesque Jones Street — and Monterey Square, ending at the rectangular Forsyth Park and its impressive fountain. We also crossed Oglethorpe Street; like in many cities, old pioneers later became streets.

Our second walk was more meandering, starting near Colonial Park Cemetery and heading north toward the Savannah River, which we eventually reached, exploring the cobblestoned streets and alleys and brick buildings that used to be the heart of the waterfront cotton market. These days, the place attracts tourists en masse to its restaurants, bars and shops, and we joined the masse for a little while, taking in the view of the Savannah River and the Talmadge Memorial Bridge.

Savannah has one of the lusher downtowns I’ve ever seen, marked by a profusion of tall trees and bushes and ground cover. The squares were especially lush places.

Flowers, too, though I think there will be more as spring matures into summer.

Some of the streets were almost as lush. This is Jones Street, famed for its handsome houses, but also shady trees. You’re going to need shade most of the year in Savannah.

Many of the squares feature memorials of one kind or another. In Johnson Square stands a memorial to Nathanael Greene, Quaker general of the Revolution who had a gift for inspiring pyrrhic victories among his British opponents. Not only is this a memorial to Greene, he’s buried under it.

A design by William Strickland, the Philadelphian who moved to Nashville who did the Second Bank of the United States, Tennessee State Capitol and a lot else besides.

In Chippewa Square, Gen. Oglethorpe stands looking out toward the state he founded, maybe enjoying the shade as well. Designed by Daniel Chester French, dedicated in 1910.

Casimir Pulaski, swashbuckling Polish cavalryman who died during the Siege of Savannah, is honored in Monterey Square with a memorial by Robert Launitz.

A number of other historic figures are honored in the squares, some of whose memorials we saw, such as that of William Jasper, a soldier who also died in the Siege of Savannah; John Wesley (as mentioned yesterday); and railroad exec William Washington Gordon, who was also a mayor of Savannah.

Gordon’s sizable late 19th-century memorial was built on top of the grave of Tomochichi, the Indian chief who allowed Oglethorpe to settle the site that would become Savannah. Tomochichi’s grave had previously been the site of a memorial to Native leader, but that had been lost to time before the Gordon memorial was erected. An interesting, if convoluted story, is told in academic detail here. Tomochichi has a separate memorial near the Gordon memorial.

A good many other memorials are scattered here and there in the squares and in between.

At the southern edge of the historic district is Forsyth Park, at 30 acres much larger than any of the city squares.

The park’s centerpiece is a splendid fountain, installed in 1858 and a creation of the same Bronx foundry that did the U.S. Capitol dome and, later, railings for the Brooklyn Bridge, among many other projects.

As charming a park as you’ll find anywhere. Sometimes life is a walk through the park, or better yet, through a lush historic district.

Savannah ’22

Posted on March 13, 2022 by admin

What to do during spring break on a three-night jaunt? Go somewhere that’s actually experiencing spring. A week ago Saturday, Ann and I flew to Savannah, Georgia, where the grass is green and the air warm, and the azaleas are in profuse bloom —

— and Spanish moss festoons tree after tree after tree, silver-gray and airy by day, slightly sinister by night, in the right light.

Besides pleasant flora, Savannah has much else to recommend it. I’ve known as much for years, but sometimes it takes years to get around to visiting even the most intriguing places.

We took long walks in the Savannah Historic District, which is enormous and very much lives up to its title, with street after street lined with the sort of aesthetic and storied buildings that speak of earlier times, both more genteel and more cruel. They also speak of restoration in the 20th and 21st centuries, and a new affluence for the city in our time.

We also spent time out from Savannah, as far afield as drives through the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge and through the beach town of Tybee Island, with a longer visit to Fort Pulaski National Monument.

Naturally, I had to visit Bonaventure Cemetery, famed in book and movie, and alive with other tourists and explosions of spring azaleas. And Spanish moss. Lots of Spanish moss on towering southern live oaks.

We ate well: plentiful seafood, kolaches as delightful as in Texas, hardy diner fare, innovative sliders and amazingly delicious fried chicken at a regional chain in suburban Savannah, our first meal after arrival and a tiresome experience in the long line to claim our rental car.

We slept well: I think I surprised Ann by booking a room at a one-of-a-kind inn a mile or so from the historic district, a sizable 1906 house renovated in the early 21st century for guests like us. Each room had its own theme, and the common areas were comfortable and ornate. Best of all, it really was an independent hotel, not a faux unique property of a high-priced boutique chain, and so I didn’t pay the moon.

We were also did a kind of Methodist pilgrimage, odd as that sounds. First, the only Savannah church we were able to enter during our visit was Wesley Monumental United Methodist Church, completed in 1890.

During our visit to Fort Pulaski NM the next day, we encountered the John Wesley Memorial.
The memorial says (among other things): John Wesley landed in America on this island, February 6, 1736. He was still an Anglican priest at the time.

That evening at dusk, we strolled into Savannah’s Reynolds Square, and there he stood.

The pilgrimage wasn’t planned. I don’t belong to that denomination, though of course I know that in earlier days, they ran with a pretty rough crowd.

Proto-Spring Break

Posted on March 3, 2022 by admin

Time for a spring break, even though it isn’t quite spring yet here. Proto-spring is more like it. That winter-spring tug o’ war has started, with winter still having the upper hand, and the most visible result being mud puddles. Anyway, back to posting around March 13.

Mostly I remember metal showman Dee Snider for sparring with what-about-the-children Tipper Gore in the mid-80s over naughty words in popular songs, and for testifying before the U.S. Senate (along with interesting bedfellow John Denver) in favor of free expression. By all accounts, the Twisted Sister frontman acquitted himself well in those spats.

Also, I like that he goes by “Dee.” Still, metal has never really been my cup of meat. Even so, I took the occasion this week to listen to “We Aren’t Going to Take It,” Twisted Sister’s best-known song (released 1984) and something I haven’t heard in years. Apparently a number of groups have taken inspiration from it over the decades, and I can see why. Though the Twisted Sister video frames the song in terms of teenaged rebellion, most of the lyrics are broad enough to apply to most any resistance to authority or oppression.

We’re right
We’re free
We’ll fight
You’ll see

They’re also simple enough to be easily understood, even if English isn’t your first language. No wonder some Ukrainians have taken up the song. Snider reportedly has approved. But he doesn’t approve of every group who wants to use the song.

“People are asking me why I endorsed the use of ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It’ for the Ukrainian people and did not for the anti-maskers,” Snider said recently in a tweet. “Well, one use is for a righteous battle against oppression; the other is a[n] infantile feet stomping against an inconvenience.”

Snider continues to acquit himself well.

Tony the Retired Barber & Ron the Returned Barber

Posted on March 2, 2022 by admin

I called my barber shop this morning, expecting to make an appointment with Tony the barber, who has cut my hair most of the time since I quit having it cut in downtown Chicago, which was in 2005, when I quit working downtown.

Most memorably, I took Ann to the shop when she was five, and she documented the scene.

“He’s retired,” another barber told me over the phone. I expressed my surprise. Since the end of last year, turns out.

But it isn’t really that surprising. Tony was 70 if he was a day. So I made an appointment with Ron the barber, who took Tony’s chair. Ron is also 70 if he’s a day, and came out of retirement after making a recovery from a fall that broke his hip and nearly killed him. From the look of his gait, I’d say his recovery’s been pretty solid.

I know that because he told me about it as he cut my hair. He’s a little more chatty than Tony, but after he told me about his health (and one other thing), he didn’t talk a lot more. Never been a fan of chatty barbers, maybe because of the redneck who cut my hair 40+ years ago who had some asinine opinions he liked sharing.

The other thing Ron the barber told me was about another barber who used to be in the shop — I didn’t remember him — who came down with Covid at some point. The disease seemed to evolve into long Covid, Ron said, but further testing revealed metastasized cancer of some kind. He implied, but didn’t say, that that fellow now has a barber chair in glory. I didn’t ask. Such are the social conventions around death.

Ron did say that the unfortunate fellow’s condition inspired Tony, who is still fairly healthy, to retire. Good for Tony. As for Ron, he’s as talented as Tony, and did an expert job, so I expect I’ll be back.

One more thing: he charged $20, same as Tony did for not sure how many years. For now anyway, the current round of inflation hasn’t hit my barber shop.

Actually, another thing: I saw from his barber license on the wall that Ron has an Italian surname. So did Tony, and so does the other barber still working in the shop besides Ron. And so did both barbers I went to downtown in the late ’90s and early ’00s and I think — not sure now — the barber I went to in the Andersonville neighborhood of Chicago in the late ’80s. A thing that makes me go hm.

Pre-Chekov

Posted on March 1, 2022 by admin

The other day I watched an episode of mid-60s sitcom I had heard of, but never had seen before. It was playing on a nostalgia channel I have access to. A show that only lasted a season, which makes it unusual as a rerun (and why no Camp Runamuck, which was on precisely the same season?).

I decided to watch the whole thing because in the first minute or so, Chekov showed up. That’s what came to mind instantly when I saw him. It took me a few minutes to remember the actor’s name. About two years before he started on Star Trek; just a young-ish character actor at the time (29).

In that episode, he played a Swedish character. His dialect wasn’t so different than the faux Russian he would later do, though you could tell he was trying to add a bit of Swedish to the sound. I’m not an expert on Swedish, but I suspect that the sound wasn’t particularly authentic. But why would it have to be?

As for the show itself, it wasn’t that bad. Or that good. Mildly amusing, occasionally, and decidedly dated. Being only a little older than the show itself, I completely understand how that happens.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Monthly Archives: March 2022