Tag Archives: publishing

The Ernie Pyle World War II Museum

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I have a sneaking suspicion that the later 21st century is going to be completely indifferent to war correspondent Ernie Pyle. Like almost everyone else, he’ll join the ranks of the obscure. The items now collected at the Ernie Pyle World War II Museum in rural Indiana will scatter to archives or private collections or landfills. Only occasionally will anyone read his writings, as found in libraries or odd corners of the Internet.

The process is already underway. The museum used to be the Ernie Pyle State Historic Site, owned and run by the state of Indiana. When the recession came 10 years ago, state budgets suffered. I doubt that anyone put it down officially in a memo or the like, but I’m sure the decision to close the Ernie Pyle SHS came down to, “Who’s heard of him anyway?”

A nonprofit, the Friends of Ernie Pyle, now owns the site and carries on the struggle against obscurity. The organization renamed the museum nearly a decade ago. Yet Randy McNally, in its 2017 Road Atlas, still calls it a state historic site. So does Google Maps. It isn’t a place that gets a lot of attention.

We arrived in the hamlet of Dana, Indiana, early in the afternoon on Saturday. Rain had dogged us most of the way from Champaign, Illinois, where we’d spent the previous night. The museum includes the house in which Ernie Pyle was born in 1900, relocated from the nearby farm fields.

Next to the birth house are two Quonset huts, World War II vintage but never used for military purposes, that house displays and Ernie Pyle artifacts. It continued to rain while we were in the huts, with drops drumming on the metal in their distinctive way the whole time.

I probably would have heard about Ernie Pyle later anyway, but I like to think that the reason we came was that Bill Swinny, one of my high school English teachers, planted the seed by telling us about him during class one day. Mr. Swinny, who taught us a good deal more than high school-level literature, managed to convey how upset the nation was at the death of Ernie Pyle, coming as it did right after the death of President Roosevelt.

We were the only visitors at the museum. An informative woman in her 60s took our admission. Also on staff was a much quieter young man, perhaps as young as 20 and perhaps a relative of the older woman, who was doing his bit to help out, though that’s just a guess on my part.

The larger displays, including Pyle-like mannequins standing in for him, evoke Ernie Pyle’s wartime circumstances. That is, living with the GIs he wrote about.
A good number of his columns are posted for visitors to read. You can also listen to excerpts from the columns by picking up telephone receivers. There are a few videos. One is devoted to a single early 1944 column, “The Death of Captain Waskow.” As well it should be, since the column is a masterpiece of reportage.

Good to know that Ernie Pyle got a Purple Heart, by act of Congress in 1983. A rare honor for a civilian.
The birth house was interesting, though less compelling. But I did learn that Ernest Taylor Pyle was born poor. At the time of his birth, his parents were tenant farmers.

The museum isn’t quite all there is when it comes to commemorating Ernie Pyle in that part of Indiana. A few miles to the east of Dana, on U.S. 36, is the Ernie Pyle Rest Park, essentially a wayside rest stop. One feature stands out, and got me to stop despite the rain.

Ernie Pyle Memorial IndianaIt’s a replica of Ernie Pyle’s memorial on Ie Shima, the small island on which he was killed by enemy fire.

At This Spot
The
77th Infantry Division
Lost A Buddy
Ernie Pyle
18 April 1945

This is a replica of the original built at Ie Shima by the 111S Engineer Combat Group United States Army.

I can’t speak for Ernie Pyle, but I imagine that the thought of being forgotten by future generations might not have troubled him. I get the sense that he would have preferred that the men he wrote about be remembered instead.

The Building Blocks of Publicity

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I get a lot of press releases. Most are about commercial real estate in one way or another, which at least has the potential to be useful. But there’s also a regular flow from various weird planets orbiting remote journalistic suns. Remote to me, that is.

For instance, recently I got a press release that starts (sic): “TM” premiered a third action-packed season at its brand new home on “DRIVE,” a dedicated auto enthusiast programming block on A+E Networks’ FYI® (Primetime) and HISTORY® (Weekend Mornings).

Each week, former celebrity stuntman and head “TM” leads his talented team in crafting one-of-a-kind custom automotive builds. From hot rods and classics to muscle cars, trucks and motorcycles, “TM” gives car lovers across America a front-row seat to the incredible building process behind these powerful and unique machines.

Good to know that HISTORY® isn’t shirking when it comes to “dedicated auto enthusiast programming.”

I got this why? Because I write about hot rods and classics and muscle cars. Not.
Just another dim-witted algorithm guessing at what I might want to see, probably.

Another one: X is the co-creator of XYZ Foods, along with her husband Y. The idea for the company grew from issues dealing with health complications that lead to their infant son, Z, needing a feeding tube. Z’s parents originally followed doctors’ and nutritionists’ advice to give Z commercial formula for his feeding tube.

But when Julie discovered that the main ingredient found in the food for Z’s feeding tube was corn syrup, she quickly started experimenting with pureeing and blending whole foods to feed Z.

Well, of course, dread corn syrup. At least they don’t seem to be blaming their problems on vaccines.

One more: Shocked and appalled. That’s the reaction most people are having following “Operation Varsity Blues,” exposing bribery scandals involving colleges such as Yale, Stanford, and Georgetown. According to leadership expert Kyle M.K., there are five ways these schools can effectively handle the crisis — and three things that will cause more damage.

I myself am shocked, shocked to hear that a few wealthy people tried to bribe their children into the Louis Vuittons, Guccis and Versaces of academia. One of those “seemed like a good idea at the time” for the status-besotted. But again, why I am getting this?

Geezer Mail

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Got a paper catalog in the mail today, one that comes periodically despite the fact that I’ve never ordered anything from it, not once in however many years I’ve been on the mailing list. The merchant must be waiting patiently, hopefully, like a dog under the dinner table waiting for some food to fall its way.

It offers DVDs. I look at it and always see a few movies I’ve never heard of and probably won’t ever see. Not that I dismiss old movies, or black-and-white movies, or subtitled movies out of hand, though I hear that some people do. Rather, there isn’t enough time to see everything, or even everything worth seeing.

Besides, my attitude toward DVDs is rent, not buy.

Speaking of the passage of time, when I opened the catalog this card fell out.

Catalogs are increasingly geezer mail, and if you need any evidence of that, look no further.

Life Jackets on the Titanic

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Got an unexpected press release today from a place I visited a while ago, the Titanic Museum Attraction.

Branson, Mo. Feb 5. 2019 – For the first and only time, the largest assemblage of remaining RMS Titanic life jackets will be on exclusive display March through June 15 at the Titanic Museum Attraction in Branson, Missouri. A new dimension in “Living Titanic Exhibits” will showcase seven of only 12 known Titanic life jackets beginning March 1 in Branson.

One detail: Branson ought to stand alone in datelines. Just my opinion. AP, the arbiter of such style points, disagrees. The list of cities that take no state in datelines is fairly short, according to the AP.

Besides Branson, I’d definitely add Orlando to that list, along with Austin, Birmingham, Buffalo, El Paso, Fort Lauderdale, Nashville, and some others.

“This is a stunning, world exclusive exhibit that we’re extremely proud to bring to Branson and to millions of our Titanic followers,” said Mary Kellogg, president, COO and co-owner of Titanic Museum Attractions. “There are only 12 KNOWN Titanic life jackets left in the world. For the first time, seven of these priceless artifacts will be at Branson’s Titanic Museum Attraction.”

All-caps KNOWN in the original. True, it is a fact that I didn’t know until now, but the emphasis is too much.

Wonder where the other five are. Private collections, including at least one held by an eccentric Japanese billionaire? The Greenwich Maritime Museum? The Maritime History Archive in St. John’s, Newfoundland? Someplace even more obscure?

The release also offered some quotable facts about the sad state of emergency preparedness on that doomed steamer, specifically about its life jackets.

There were enough life jackets to protect the 2,208 passenger/crew on board Titanic… but not enough lifeboats to save them all.

Life jackets were made of hard cork and canvas, proving dangerous for many forced to jump into the water.

So not only did a lack of lifeboats fail the passengers and crew, so did relatively primitive materials science. Guess cork was the best available material in 1912. It floats, after all.

I wish the Titanic Museum Attraction well with its life jacket exhibit, though I probably won’t make it to Branson to see them. But I might go if the museum promised an exhibit of surviving deck chairs from the Titanic. You know, those that were famously re-arranged.

It Was Entirely Possible To Eat, Drink and Be Merry in Logan, Utah in 1980

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The beginning of one of the more amusing press release retractions I’ve received recently went as follows:

So very sorry… everyone was rushing to get this one out late yesterday. We all missed it. It should be “20-screen _____ Theatre” and not “20-seat _____ Theatre” … It appears in the fourth paragraph below. I fixed it below. Please let me know if you have any questions. Thank you, thank you!! –

I got a chuckle at the thought that that particular brand would open a 20-seat theater. Then again, there’s probably a market for an ultra-luxe movie theater with only 20 seats. The kind of place that where four or five attendants, each dressed in posh re-creations of usher and usherette costumes, bring patrons high-end food and beverage at a comfy seat and table facing a high-end digital movie screen.

I have a collection of aged t-shirts that I don’t want to part with. They are mostly too worn for ordinary use, but each reminds of a certain period or trip. Such as this one.

I picked it up in Logan, Utah, during my first visit there in June 1980. I took a bus from San Antonio to Logan that month, and stayed with my high school friend Tom for a while. He was attending Utah State University at that point, and I hadn’t seen him in about a year. A fine visit.

I liked Logan too, with its warm days and cool nights, inexpensive eateries and college town vibe. I visited again in 1982, but not since. Probably best to leave it that way, as a pleasant spot I visited in my youth.

Not Indicted Yet

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First things first: Remember the Alamo. Today is a good time to listen to some Dimitri Tiomkin.

Wind and cold yesterday to remind us that winter lingers, that it’s the time of the year when the season is an unwanted guest who gives no indication of packing his bags. Then in the evening, snow. Just a covering, so I figured it would melt today. No. We got more in the morning. Then it melted. Mostly.

Got an oddity in the mail not long ago: an anti-Bruce Rauner campaign booklet called The Governor You Don’t Know, subtitled “The Other Side of Bruce Rauner.” It’s an actual paper publication, and a smallish thing, 4 in. x 6​¾ in., with a four-color cover but all text on its 48 pages (three forms of 16 pages, I bet). And I mean all text — not even any black-and-white illustrations.

The byline names the chairman of the Chicago Republican Party as the author, with a forward by a Republican state representative. Interesting copyright note: “Permission is hereby granted to reproduce any part or all of this book until March 31, 2018.” After that, all rights reserved.

I’m not going to do that, but I will quote from the forward: “In this book, you’ll be taken behind the scenes as the author reviews the salient events that explain why we are taking the extremely rare step of unseating an incumbent governor from our own party.”

The Illinois Republican party, it seems, is a tad peeved at the governor. I can certainly think of some criticisms of him myself, but I will give Rauner this: he’s never been indicted. In some states (Illinois, Louisiana) that’s a pretty high bar for a governor.

On the back of the booklet, we’re informed that the woman looking to unseat the governor in this month’s primary, or rather her campaign, paid for the book. As politicos go, she’s a dime-store demagogue, as noted by the underrated columnist Neil Steinberg.

All very interesting, but I’m still left with a nagging question. Why did I get it? Am I on some kind of dime-store demagogue fan club mailing list? If so, I’d prefer not to be.

Don’t Forget Dessert!

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We still get newspapers, and newspaper circulars, delivered to our house. For how much longer, I don’t know. I’ve called to cancel a few times over the years, but every time I do the newspaper lowers the cost of the subscription a lot.

The paper still has its interests. Even in the circulars.

Found this a while ago — it was at the bottom of a circular advertising a brand of fast food I never buy. Among all of the choices, it’s third or fourth string. The addition of fried Twinkies isn’t going to change that.

I had a fried Twinkie in its native setting a few years ago, at a street festival in the Midwest. Note to my non-existent hipster readers: that is an authentic experience. It costs more than in an inauthentic, fast-food setting, but you should expect to pay more for authenticity. I should add that it’s one of that class of experiences you can do exactly once and not regret never doing again.

Versus 1981-82

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Today was faux spring. That happens occasionally even in darkest winters. The aspects of spring we got today were non-freezing temps, drizzle and mud. The dog at least is happy. And it is better than a subzero day.

Last year, when looking up William F. Hagerty, a VU alum who eventually became the current U.S. ambassador to Japan — succeeding such notables as Caroline Kennedy, Walter Mondale, Douglas MacArthur II, Joseph Grew, Townsend Harris and arguably Commodore Perry — I also came across this photo in the 1982 Vanderbilt Commodore yearbook.

Pictured are staff members of Versus magazine, the student magazine, 1981-82. Actually only about half of the staff; the editor for that year is not even pictured. I’m third from the left, top row. Or third from the right, come to think of it. These days I’m on Facebook with four of the people pictured, including Dan, bottom row right. I correspond by postcard and email with another person in the picture who doesn’t do Facebook.

The present generation of VU student journalists will not know the joys and irritations of producing a paper magazine. At least not Versus, nor a paper version of the student newspaper, The Hustler. At some point in the current century, those were unceremoniously dumped, as was the terrestrial radio station, WRVU, though that was sold for a mess of pottage.

8/8/88 &c.

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August 8, 1988

On this particular confluence of numbers for a date, I went to work. After all, it was also a Monday. VW started today as editorial assistant. At last we get one. After introductions and a basic editorial meeting, I spent a fair amount of the morning showing her how to use the VDT.

At 11 or so, I met a writer named SB. Seems like he could do good work for us. Works part-time now for another local mag that I’ve never heard of.

Lunch: KD, JD, VW, MS and me at Dick’s Last Resort, which opened not long ago at North Pier. I think there are others in Dallas and Houston. The place has its staff pretend to be rude. Restaurant motto: “Can’t Kill a Man Born to Hang.” Had a bucket o’ beef ribs & fries & slaw & bread. Was good.

[I checked just now, and the Dick’s Chicago location at some point moved to Marina Towers. It’s still a relatively small chain, with 13 locations, according to its web site. I went a few other times during the late ’80s, and maybe once again when I moved back to Chicago.

Dick’s used to serve — maybe still does — Mamba, pride of the Ivory Coast brewing industry. Actually a malt liquor, not a beer. Came in pint bottles with a croc and a map of Africa on the label. I bought one once just to drink something made in République de Côte d’Ivoire.

Not bad. Had the empty bottle for some years, but it disappeared at some point.]

In the afternoon, got a surprising amount done. Queried participants in the Mortgage Roundtable, interviewed an industry cockalorum, and more.  After work, had a hard time getting home. The El was jammed with Cubs fans going to the big-deal, first-ever night game at Wrigley.

Got home, a postcard was in the mail from Bill K. He says he’s in love and that “Elvis lives.” At 7:30 or so, I headed north on the El, away from all the hubbub, to go swimming. As I was walking to the pool from Davis station, it started raining hard. Got to the pool, swam. Less crowded than usual. Still raining some as I walked back to the station. Down to a drizzle by the time I got home, but I understand the big night game was called because of it.

[Sure enough, it was called. I seem to remember that Royko was there, and the next day in his column said he was tired of people telling him that God didn’t want night games at Wrigley. One was played to a conclusion the very next evening in better weather.]

First, Fire All the Copy Editors

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The following is a genuine headline from yesterday’s paper edition of the Chicago Tribune, featured with an article in the travel section.

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Where is this place, Brazel? I wondered. A small place with a name unfortunately similar to the major tropical nation in South America? That might account for tourists sadly overlooking the place.

But no. The article is clearly about the vast South American nation.