By Michael Kaufman

Is it just me or is this the craziest election season ever? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I think about it. It was bad enough when we had a choice between Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Now it’s a choice between Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Worse.  But I am clear about who I will be voting for on November 2 and I think it is not too late to mount an all-out campaign for my candidates.

People have been saying that we need to match the Tea Party crowd in enthusiasm so I’ve come up with some campaign slogans to get the ball rolling:

For any Democratic candidate running anywhere in the country:  “I’m Not a Witch. I’m the Lesser Evil.”

For Andrew Cuomo: “So What If He Took Jonah Mandelbaum’s Dough! At Least He’s Not Carl Paladino!”

For John Hall: “He Spoke for Peace and Voted for War but Nan Hayworth Would Be Worse for Sure!”

But we need more than those if we are going to give the Tea Party a run for their money. People are justifiably angry that their health insurance costs have gone up since the passage of the healthcare reform bill. We need a catchy slogan to convey the message that they would have gone up even more if there had been no reform. I couldn’t think of any. Can you?

If you can think of some catchy campaign slogans on this or any other issue, leave a comment below or send an email and we’ll share it with our readers.

One thing that has intrigued me so far in this campaign is the loud criticism meted out to Representatives John Hall and Maurice Hinchey for obtaining money from the federal government for local projects. Isn’t that a good thing? 

We pay taxes to the federal government, why shouldn’t we get money for local projects? Why is that derided as “pork”? I prefer to think of it as a nice brisket or maybe potato kugel or kasha varnishkes. Come to think of it, I’ll bet you’d never hear anyone say, “Let’s put an end to kasha varnishkes once and for all!” In any case I would much rather see my tax dollars go towards community projects than things like military occupations of countries on the other side of the world that pose no threat to us.

It just seems like it would be against our interests to support candidates who pledge to bring NO money in for community projects because they are against so-called pork. It’s like asking senior citizens to vote for candidates who would “reform” Social Security by privatizing it, raising the retirement age, and/or killing it altogether. The same goes for Medicare. No senior in their right mind would do that.  Or would they? Like I said, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

FROM THE VIRTUAL MAILBAG—Regarding last week’s post wherein I expressed regret for not speaking up when an obnoxious person made bigoted remarks, GENE KAUFMAN (brother of me) wrote: “Dumb(bleep)  bigots will be dumb(bleep)bigots all their lives. Common sense, reasoning,challenges of ‘what if it were you’ and ‘put yourself in someone else’s place,’ even anger and outrage won’t change them, although they might be more discreet about where they sound off.  A response might make you feel better, but then afterward you also go through the  “I shoulda said” phase, wishing you had been more devastating, finding words that  would turn her into a pile of dust.  In the end dumb(bleep) bigots are still dumb(bleep) bigots who can’t help themselves.  People stink. The goal is to be with the people who don’t.” Thanks, bro, but I still think I should have spoken up.

TOM KARLSON agrees with me.  “Yeah. The tell off is the way to go.” Tom also sent a scathing Columbus Day poem that I’ll save for next year.

Reader DEAN of Queens (first to notify us of the death of Billy Loes in July) wrote:   “My family grew up with Billy back in Astoria, Queens. Since he was an only child, and had no family at the time of his death, my wife and I were among the first to be notified here in Queens by a public fiduciary in Arizona, where he resided until he passed….Finally after two weeks, they settled; his body was cremated and sent back to NY. The NY Times was notified thereafter. May he rest in peace…enjoy the memories!

MARCO RIBEIRO left this comment below the posting at the Zest site:  “My first wife’s aunt married Billy Loes, and so I got to know him. I grew up in Maryland, so I was an avid Baltimore Orioles fan, and was thrilled that I actually got to know a former Oriole. Of course, Billy was much more famous as a Brooklyn Dodger. What I can say about Billy is that he was very modest and had a great sense of humor. He was full of funny stories. Here’s one: Billy told me that he was pitching one game where there was a very attractive lady fan wearing a short skirt sitting at the railing right near first base. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. The first baseman was distracted by her antics, and when Billy made a good throw to the first baseman to hold the runner, the ball flew right past the first baseman because he was staring at the foxy lady instead of paying attention to the game. The runner advanced to second base, and a minute later the official scorer’s decision flashed up on the scoreboard:  Error 1 (meaning the error was charged to the pitcher and not the first baseman). Billy shook his head and yelled up to the press box (where the official scorer sat), ‘What the hell? Are you staring at her too?!’ Billy always said some of the quotes attributed to him were not true….that he was not into bad mouthing anyone…Billy gave me a ‘Salute to the 1985 LA Dodgers’ Lite Beer mug, and I still treasure it. He was a great guy.” Thanks, Marco. As Dean said, enjoy the memories. 

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

Last weekend my daughter Gahlia and I went to an audition at the Newburgh Actors Studio. The waiting room was full of people of all ages, each hoping to land a spot as an extra in a movie being filmed in the area. Gahlia recognized an older woman who had appeared in a community theater production of Mame at her high school, The Storm King School in Cornwall. Then Gahlia made a big mistake.

She said hello.

The woman took Gahlia’s greeting as an opportunity to engage in a loud, flamboyant, and boastful rant that began with her family ties to Storm King (she said her family founded the place) and ended with a disgusting anti-Semitic joke. In between she offered views on everything from “women’s lib” to affirmative action. “I was against women’s lib,” she announced. “Equal pay for equal work is fine but I don’t want some four-foot little girl coming to my house to rescue me from a fire.” Neither did she want any non-white firefighters who only got into the fire department because the entrance exam had been “dumbed down.” Several people murmured their agreement.

And then she told of a recent encounter with a Hasidic Jew who she said was soliciting funds “for some charity of theirs.” She said the man was wearing a big diamond ring so he was “obviously not in any need of funds.” She said she told the man she would not give him a penny, after which he invoked the Holocaust in an attempt to enlist her sympathy.  But she wasn’t buying it.

“Can you imagine? I mean, it’s been 60 years….Get over it already!”
My brain was still reeling from this remark when she said the man told her, “You WASPs don’t understand….” At this point I decided she was making the story up, which is most likely the case as it was the perfect setup for the nasty little joke that followed.

“I told him, ‘What do you mean I don’t understand. My uncle died at Auschwitz.’”

“Your uncle was Jewish?”

“No! He fell out of a guard tower.” That got a few laughs, although the main reaction was uncomfortable silence, including my own.

I had wanted to object to her comments several times during her spiel but I kept quiet because I didn’t want to make a scene that might jeopardize Gahlia’s and my chances of getting parts in the movie. In hindsight I was wrong.  I should have told her that her joke wasn’t funny. I should have asked her how she would feel if half the world population of WASPs had been placed in concentration camps, beaten, starved, worked or gassed to death, maybe people in her own family…. and  some ignorant blowhard said to her, “It’s been 60 years….Get over it already!” I’m sorry I didn’t.

The good news is that Gahlia and I both made the cut and may end up being seen, albeit for just a few seconds, in Return, starring Linda Cardellini, Michael Shannon and Tim Blake Nelson. Cardellini plays a woman who returns home from war to her husband (portrayed by Shannon) and kids in a small town and struggles to readjust. Nelson plays an older war vet who befriends her. The movie is written and directed by Liza Johnson, a former fellow at the Sundance Institute. Meredith Vieira, television reporter and host, is executive producer.

The audition was my first visit to the Newburgh Actors Studio (“A Little Taste of Manhattan in the Hudson Valley”), which presents live theater offerings at 784 Broadway, Newburgh. The place is indeed reminiscent of the Manhattan theater scene and is well worth a visit. The current offering is I’m Not Rappaport by Herb Gardiner.  At this writing remaining performances are scheduled for Friday and Saturday, October 8 – 9 at 8 p.m., and Sunday, October 10 at 5 p.m. Tickets are $20 ($18 for students and seniors). For information or reservations, call 845-569-8593.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

The Town of Warwick has been home to my family for 10 years, which makes me a newbie compared to the many lifelong residents whose families date back generations. During our years here I have developed a deep attachment for the town, the little village that bears its name and the people (well, most of the people anyway).  Yes, Warwick is a special place, set in a beautiful valley, with picturesque farms, orchards, and wineries, fine restaurants, quaint places to shop, and some of the best ice cream on the planet for sale at the Bellvale Creamery on Route 17A.

But somehow it has gotten into a lot of our heads that we are better than our neighbors in adjacent towns and villages. This has led to delusions of grandeur in which we are sometimes joined by local and regional media outlets. A case in point is the extensive press coverage of a community effort to combat teenage drinking. It was front-page news in the daily Times Herald-Record on Friday, September 24, as well as the weekly Warwick Advertiser. The Record devoted a two-page spread, featuring an “open letter” from community leaders, and an article headed, “Group has faith in town’s ability to work out problem.” A quote from the new superintendent of schools appeared in bold type: “Warwick is incredible in its collective approach to problems, and we’re hoping to tap into that.”

What prompted the open letter and the attendant publicity (including a follow-up story on Monday with a banner headline on the front page, “Warwick continues talking about teen drinking” and in yet another edition after that an editorial lauding the effort? According to the open letter, “For the second time in three months we have had to remove a student, by ambulance, from a school event due to alcohol poisoning.” After consulting with parents and students, the authors determined that this is not “an isolated incident.”

I am glad that after years of covering up such incidents under previous school superintendents, school officials and community leaders have decided to address the problem of excessive alcohol consumption by students. But buried 12 paragraphs into Friday’s article is this telling sentence. “The cities of Newburgh, Middletown and Port Jervis have already formed similar organizations, as have the towns of Cornwall and Montgomery.”

So why does Warwick deserve kudos for its past-due recognition of a problem that everyone has known existed all along? Aww, it’s because we’re so special, that’s why. “Organizers hope the strategy will work effectively in Warwick because of the town’s unique cohesion on other social issues, such as sustainability, business development, energy use and land preservation.”

So far this “unique cohesion” has gotten us a new big box supermarket across the street from another big supermarket on Route 94, complete with a traffic light that frequently backs up traffic. But we are supposed to be grateful because the new big box that blocks views of the mountains was built using “green technology.” There is also a tasteful sign by the entrance, welcoming shoppers to a place called “The Fairgrounds.” What next, a sign in the bathroom saying, “Welcome to the botanical gardens?” And dare I mention again the eyesore known as Liberty Green, accompanied by yellow blinking lights and a four-way stop sign on Grand Street?

And as we all know, there is plenty more to come in the way of development along the Route 94 corridor…. but not to worry.  I’m sure it is going to be swell because “our” millionaire developer and the other businessmen involved in the planning discussions only want what is best for all of us and will surely be swayed by the voices of reason.  Uh huh.

I’m glad that the new school superintendent, with the backing of community leaders, has come clean regarding the alcohol problem. Maybe next he can address the drug problem in the high school, which has been similarly swept under the rug for years, and the bullying, which has been ignored with tragic consequences.

I love Warwick but it is about time we stopped congratulating ourselves for how wonderful we are and began taking a closer look at things. I think we will find that our Warwickian exceptionalism some call “unique cohesion” does not hold up under scrutiny.  

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

Thanks to Bob Gaydos for sharing memories of his days as a young sports editor in Binghamton with Zest readers last week. His post brought back a flood of memories, including one involving Jimmy Cannon, the legendary sportswriter much admired by Bob.

Cannon’s place in the canon of American sports literature is assured, and rightly so. However, my one in-person experience with him was brief and unpleasant: He spat on the sidewalk….though I should hasten to add that I was not the target of his disgust.

It happened outside Madison Square Garden on the chilly evening of February 16, 1970. Later that night Joe Frazier would box Jimmy Ellis in a bout that would be recognized as a world heavyweight championship fight by the New York State Athletic Commission (NYSAC).  Muhammad Ali, the true champion, had been stripped of his title more than two years earlier for refusing induction into the Army and expressing opposition to the war in Vietnam. After much hemming and hawing, the NYSAC decided to hold this championship bout to replace the title “vacated” by Ali. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. Ellis, a former sparring partner of Ali and a journeyman fighter, was a sacrificial lamb for the coronation of Frazier. The fight was a sham.

I was walking with Leonard Shecter, one of my sportswriter heroes, when we saw Cannon approach from the other direction. I was hoping the two would start chatting and maybe Len would introduce me to the man who had famously written of Joe Louis, “He’s a credit to his race….the human race.”

Evidently Cannon did not think quite as highly of Shecter as he did of Louis. He glared at Len as he got nearer to us. Len pretended not to notice and nodded a hello but as those two came side by side, Cannon stopped in his tracks. Len and I stopped too. Cannon looked Len in the eye, turned his head and sent a wad of spittle to the sidewalk: “Ptooooooooey!”  Then he straightened his shoulders and calmly walked away.

Coincidentally, among those who witnessed the scene was Rocky Graziano, the former middleweight champion, who Bob also mentioned in his post (“the textbook image of a pug”).  I jumped on the chance to ask Graziano for a comment about the fight. Did he really think this could be called a championship fight? Shouldn’t Ali still be considered the champion until someone defeats him in the ring?

“If da State o’ New York calls idda championship fight den it’s a championship fight!” he replied in textbook pug fashion.

Then I asked Len for an explanation of Cannon’s behavior.

“I guess he doesn’t like me.”

Not many of the old-time sportswriters liked Len much. They blamed him for breaking the supposedly sacred code of silence that had existed over 100 years of newspaper coverage of baseball. It happened in September 1958. The Yankees had just clinched the pennant and were returning home by train from Kansas City, accompanied as usual by the beat writers who covered the team for the New York area newspapers.

During the trip a brief scuffle took place involving Ryne Duren, a young relief pitcher whose career would be plagued by alcoholism, and Ralph Houk, then a coach for the team, who was known as a tough disciplinarian. Houk swiped Duren with the back of his hand, and his World Series ring cut Duren above an eye.

“I pushed him down, and that was the end of it,” Houk later recalled. As described in a 2008 article by Alan Schwarz in The New York Times, “That was what everyone thought — including all the Yankees’ beat writers, who, following longtime baseball etiquette, agreed not to write about the incident. What happened on the team train stayed in the family.

“Shecter, who covered the team for The New York Post, agreed, too. But then he found himself in a jam. The next afternoon, Til Ferdenzi of The Journal-American wrote a small note about how the Yankees’ front office had hired a few private detectives to monitor the players’ wild behavior. When Shecter’s  editor scolded him for missing that story, Shecter offered one better: the Duren-Houk dust-up….

“Shecter did not exactly seem to regret his decision….years later, he recommended that a pitcher he had befriended keep a diary of a full season. Shecter took the notes and tapes and helped write what became Ball Four, Jim Bouton’s seminal account of major league life as it truly was — alcohol, nudity, amphetamines and all. The public rejoiced, bought three million copies and has since expected such details from the news media as a matter of course.”

Len’s 1968 book, The Jocks presents an iconoclastic view of the role of sports in America. He also wrote On the Pad with William Phillips, the bribed policeman whose testimony before the Knapp Commission helped uncover corruption in the New York City police department. My favorite of his books is Once Upon the Polo Grounds, a hilarious account of the first two seasons of the New York Mets.

Leonard Shecter had leukemia and died in 1974 at age 48. On a cold February night in 1970 I saw Jimmy Cannon spit on the sidewalk at the sight of him. Nobody asked me but I think Jimmy was wrong on this one.  

Michael can be reached at Michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

Dustin Hoffman has been a favorite actor of mine ever since I saw The Graduate in 1967. His performance in Rain Man ranks as one of the greatest pieces of acting in cinema history.  He was magnificent as Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman on Broadway in 1987. (I had orchestra seats for that one.)

But I passed up the opportunity to see him play Shylock in Merchant of Venice for free in Central Park during the summer and I will not pay to see it on Broadway now either. I wish he hadn’t taken the part. I wish the New York Shakespeare Festival had chosen another of the Bard’s great works for Central Park this year and that it was so successful they took it to Broadway. But not Merchant of Venice.

“One would have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to recognize that Shakespeare’s grand, equivocal comedy The Merchant of Venice is nevertheless a profoundly anti-Semitic work,” wrote Harold Bloom, literary scholar and critic. This is spelled out in detail in Morris U. Schappes’ pamphlet, Shylock and Anti-Semitism, originally published in 1962 and later reissued by Jewish Currents magazine. As Jonathan Freedland wrote of the 2004 movie version with Al Pacino as Shylock, “There is no getting away from it: Shylock is the villain, bent on disproportionate vengeance. Crucially, his villainy is not shown as a quirk of his own, individual personality, but is rooted overtly in his Jewishness.”

Shakespeare depicted Shylock as “obsessed by money, a man who dreams of moneybags, whose very opening words are ‘three thousand ducats.’ When his daughter betrays him and flees with a Christian lover, it is her theft of his money which is said to trouble him as much as the loss of a child,” said Freedland.

 “As the dog Jew did utter in the streets/’My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!’ ”

Shakespeare, added Freedland, “is dealing here not with a specific trait of Shylock the man but an anti-Semitic caricature.”    

Similarly, Shylock’s demand for revenge (“An eye for an eye …) plays on the ancient notion of the Jews as vengeful people.  A Jew seeking Christian flesh stirs memories of the anti-Semitic “blood libel,” that Jews use Christian blood for religious ritual. “Above all,” wrote Freedland  “it evokes the accusation that fuelled two millennia of European anti-Semitism—that the Jews killed Christ.”

Both Schappes and Freedland point out that Shylock’s villainy is depicted as a specifically Jewish villainy. “And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn/To have the due and forfeit of my bond.” And both reject the notion often put forward by the play’s defenders that the anti-Semitism is trumped by Shylock’s poignant and humanizing “Hath not a Jew eyes…” speech.  When Christian characters in the play behave badly, it is because they are not living up to and honoring their Christian faith. However, when Shylock acts badly, says Freedland, “Shakespeare suggests he is fully in accordance with Jewish tradition. Shylock plots Antonio’s downfall with his friend Tubal, promising to continue their dark talk ‘at our synagogue.’”

By the time Shylock makes his renowned speech, it evokes little sympathy. Indeed, says Freedland, it turns out to be an “over-clever” defense by Shylock of his own bloodlust—an argument that, since Jews are the same as Christians, he is entitled to exact the same revenge they would.”

None of this is to suggest that those involved in staging the play in Central Park or in bringing it to Broadway are anti-Semitic.  Many, including Hoffman, are Jewish. Their view of the world, from the culturally diverse arts scene in Manhattan, might well assume that their audiences are free of such antiquated prejudice. In that context, says Freedland, “stories of anti-Jewish hatred take on an almost allegorical quality—as if they are not about Jews at all, but are, instead, parables for racism or intolerance in general.

“This might work if Shylock was, say, an Inca, or a Minoan—if, in other words, the Jews were no longer around. But Jews are still around—and so, unfortunately, is anti-Semitism.”

Michael can be reached at Michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

You won’t find my face on Facebook, my space on MySpace or my tweets on Twitter. I’d much rather talk to someone in person or write complete sentences to express my thoughts than exchange messages in code. As you read these words, tens of thousands of people across the globe are pecking away at  keyboards large and small, writing messages like “lol,” “brb,” “lmao,” “gtg,” “rofl,” and “wtf.” So maybe it is not my place to comment on the fuss created by Mike Wise, sports columnist for the Washington Post, who tweeted his way to a one-month suspension by intentionally using his Twitter account to plant a false story.  But I’ll do it anyway.

What the hell was he thinking? Or as someone has probably tweeted by now: “wthwht?”

Wise, a columnist at The New York Times before moving to the Post in 2004, explained that he wanted to illustrate how sloppy sports journalism has become thanks to social networking and the blogosphere.  On Monday he posted the tweet heard round the world: “Roethlisberger will get five games, I’m told.”

That would be Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers of the National Football League, who faces a six-game suspension for violating the league’s personal conduct policy. Speculation had been circulating that Roethlisberger’s suspension would be reduced. Wise got the not-so-wise idea to use  that to show how easy it is for people to plant false information online…. and to expose how little effort is spent nowadays in checking facts. Indeed, his planted “story” was immediately picked up by several media outlets, including the Miami Herald and ProFootballTalk.

A few hours after posting, Wise proudly revealed the truth about the hoax on his radio show. But to his surprise, instead of winning kudos for a masterful expose, he was roundly criticized. Furious sports bloggers denounced him and the Post, many complaining that both had lost their credibility.

Wise then tweeted a clumsy explanation.  “As part of a bit on my show today, I tried to test the accuracy of social media reporting,” he wrote. “Probably not the best way to go about experiment. But in the end, it proved two things: 1. I was right about nobody checking facts or sourcing and 2. I’m an idiot. Apologies to all involved.”

Later he was even more contrite, if not more eloquent:  “I’m sorry if I threw anyone off in my zeal to show the danger of social networking and who runs with stuff.” These apologies were not enough to appease the higher ups at the Post.

As Greg Sandoval of CNET News noted, “In addition to the ethical questions, Wise also failed to correctly calculate Twitter’s growing influence as a news source. If he looks upon Twitter as a playground or lab experiment, he should know that 190 million people visit the site every month. Many use it as a news aggregation service and early-warning system. Hot stories spread fast via the service…..But even in the digital age, some of the old rules still apply: people don’t like being misled. “

Sandoval also took issue with Wise’s claim that the hoax had proved him right. “His exercise proved nothing. Wise’s experiment was flawed from the start.  On his Twitter account, Wise identifies himself as a Post reporter. If he was trying to prove that nobody checks out unverified information, he must know that the Post’s name automatically lends the information credibility. It’s not unreasonable for other journalists to assume a report from a Post writer was properly checked out….The Post helped expose the conspiracy behind the Watergate break in and bring down a sitting president (Richard Nixon). Why shouldn’t anyone believe the paper when it says a quarterback will see a five-game suspension?”

“Mike did not follow our guidelines and has since apologized for it,” the Washington Post said in a statement to the Huffington Post. “We take these matters very seriously; however, we do not discuss personnel issues.”

“Seems overly harsh to me,” Post media writer Howard Kurtz tweeted in response to the punishment.  I agree with Kurtz. If they are going to suspend Wise for a month for misrepresenting by one game the length of a professional football player’s suspension, imagine the punishment that could be meted out for failing to investigate the lies and hoaxes planted to beat the drums for the invasion and occupation of Iraq. Some good Watergate-like investigative reporting back then might have saved countless lives.

Michael can be reached at Michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

Pick up a copy of the Times Herald-Record (or a host of other daily newspapers around the country) any day of the week and you might see a baker’s dozen or more advertisements for massage parlors and strip clubs. The ads are always towards the back of the paper, nestled among the box scores and horse racing results in the sports section.

There’s an ad in the Record for Jenna’s Gentlemen’s Club in Middletown that boasts, “Hot New Babes Everynight!”  Another announces the “Grand Opening” of the New York Spa in Newburgh: “Restore with our Healing Hands of Beneficial Treatments for Body Mind Spirit.” That one includes a photo of a young Asian woman playing the flute. Also in Newburgh is the Hanna Spa, which offers “Ground Floor Discreet Park & Enter.”

There was nothing discreet about the Young Spa, which opened in Pine Island in June and was shut down six weeks later. I knew that one was a goner as soon as I saw their ad in the paper. I was surprised it lasted as long as it did. As reported in the news section of the Times Herald-Record on July 15, “Across the street from a Catholic church and a statue of the Virgin Mary, police say, workers at a new spa on Pulaski Highway offered customers ‘happy endings.’”

“As soon as it opened, police officers realized what it was,” said Warwick police Lt. Thomas Maslanka.

The windows were blacked out, but the place was “anything but discreet,” reported Heather Yakin of the Record. “The front door was locked, with entry by buzzer only. Neighbors saw BMWs and Mercedes — cars out of place in the onion- and sod-farming mecca of Pine Island — there at odd hours. Immediately, people started calling police to complain about the shady business that had opened across from St. Stanislaus Roman Catholic Church.”

Two people, identified as Myoung O. Kim, 53, of Colorado, and Teck I. Park, 60, of Queens, were each charged with operating an unauthorized practice, a felony; and prostitution, a misdemeanor. How someone from Colorado ended up opening a massage parlor in Pine Island would make an interesting story I think. In any case this was either a setup of the first order or the proprietors are complete idiots.

Meanwhile, the Record continues to accept advertising money from such places, which is what enables them to attract customers. Then it covers the news when the places get busted. As my father used to say, “They’ve got a pretty good racket going there.” In fairness to the Record and the others that accept these kinds of ads, times are tough in the newspaper business. Advertising sales have plummeted in recent years as readers turned to sources like the internet and cable TV, which can deliver information more quickly, if not more accurately.

A month before the bust at Young Spa the Record ran a story by Adam Bosch: “Seven women at two Newburgh massage parlors were charged Thursday with giving massages without a license, a felony under state education law.

“Newburgh Lt. Mike Clancy said the bust was part of an investigation into suspected cocaine sales at the Gold Spa on South Plank Road and Hanna Spa on Route 17K.”

Yes, that is the same Hanna Spa that continues to tout its discreet “park & enter” in the sports section. No drugs were found, but seven Asian women from Queens were arrested and charged with giving massages without a license. 

Back in 2007 the paper ran an article by Alexa James about the arrest of six women who worked in massage parlors in Newburgh, New Windsor and Montgomery. The six were charged with failing to produce a license to practice massage in the state of New York, a felony charge regarded by the courts as more serious than prostitution. The women, all undocumented immigrants from Asia, worked at the Gold Spa on South Plank Road, Tokyo Spa on Meadow Hill Road, Ruby Spa on Route 17K in Montgomery, and the A&A Spa in New Windsor.

The Ruby Spa ads have been replaced by ads for Centure Health Center on Route 17K in Montgomery. Tokyo Spa seems to have been reincarnated with the aforementioned “grand opening” of New York Spa. And A&A is operating—and advertising in the Record—from its new location in New Windsor.

The New York Times does not run such advertising. Nor does the Wall Street Journal, which, like the Record, is owned by Rupert Murdoch. 

I would rather see the paper assign a couple of the fine reporters who still work there to investigate the glut of massage parlor businesses in the region and shed some light on the exploitation of the foreign-born women they employ. I’d like to know more about the patrons, too….those  drivers of BMWs and Mercedes who drive to them in search of “hot babes” and “happy endings.”  What do you think?

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

Billy Loes seemed surprised when Bill Raley told him that people were selling his old baseball cards and autographed memorabilia on the internet. “He did not use or know of the internet as far as I could tell,” recalls Raley, who befriended the former major league pitcher in 2008 while working for Adult Protective Services in Tucson, Arizona. “Billy was just getting out of the hospital then and I saw him in an official capacity. But we got to know each other a bit. I never saw a computer in his apartment. I printed out a lot of stuff for him to read about himself. He was amazed that people were making money off his name ….and that he himself never had received any of it.”  

Loes, best known for his seasons with the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1950s, died July 15 at a hospice in Tucson. “I really enjoyed my time with him,” adds Raley. “He still had a sense of humor. He had been in an assisted living facility after a hospital stay, but left against medical advice and went back to his apartment at Prince and Campbell Roads. In a gruff way, he said the assisted living place was a ripoff and they weren’t doing anything for him that he couldn’t do himself. He complained they were overcharging him. He seemed stubborn…but in a way that made me smile.”

Raley remembers Loes as “very humble.” He did not talk about his baseball career unless others brought it up. “I was the one who talked and made a big deal about it.” According to Raley, Loes was a regular at a small diner where he would walk from his apartment and was a favorite among the waitresses and other patrons. “During my time knowing him, he was living alone and didn’t seem to venture far away from the immediate area of Prince and Campbell in Tucson. He spoke of enjoying the casinos but it appeared he was not able to get there much, if at all.”

Raley and others who knew Loes were surprised to learn that he was still legally married at the time of his death. His estranged wife, Irene, of Chapel Hill, N.C., is his only survivor. “Those who had assisted him thought he was single or divorced,” says Raley, who wonders if Billy might have thought so too. “Certainly in his time of need (medically) back in 2008, he didn’t mention her and I was under the assumption he was all alone.”

As noted in the obituary by Richard Goldstein in The New York Times, Loes compiled a record of 50 wins and 25 losses during his best four years with the Dodgers, from 1952 through their World Series championship season of 1955. His best season was 1952, when he finished 13-8 with four shutouts and a 2.69 earned run average. He was sold to the Baltimore Orioles during the 1956 season and pitched for the American League in the 1957 All-Star Game. He ended his big-league career pitching for the San Francisco Giants in his last two seasons and retired with an 80-63 record.

William Loes was born Dec. 13, 1929, in Queens and became a star pitcher for William Cullen Bryant High School in Long Island City. Popularly known as the “Kid from Astoria,” he made his debut with the Dodgers in 1950 and rejoined the team in 1952 after serving in the Army. He is remembered as much for his sense of humor as for his pitching skills and was often depicted as a goofy character by sportswriters for some of his antics and comments. But he was also a stand-up guy who was not afraid to confront the management of the teams for which he played. In 1948, fresh out of high school, he negotiated a $28,000 bonus, a huge amount in those days, from Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey to sign with the team. He maintained his stubbornness as well as his sense of humor, until the end.

Two days after George Steinbrenner had his fatal heart attack at his mansion in Tampa, Billy Loes died quietly at a hospice in Tucson—so quietly that his death went unreported for nearly two weeks. Both men were 80. Steinbrenner loved owning a baseball team. “When you’re a shipbuilder, nobody pays any attention to you,” he said, “but when you own the New York Yankees…they do, and I love it.” Billy Loes loved playing baseball. Too bad he wasn’t around to play for one of Steinbrenner’s Yankee teams. He’d have given The Boss what for.

Michael can be reached at Michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

For a while there I was afraid someone was going to nominate George Steinbrenner for sainthood last week, what with all the glowing tributes that followed his passing.  I wasn’t going to write more about him, either–except that I started remembering some specific things I probably should have talked about before letting Hunter Thomspon’s words about Richard Nixon speak for me. 

Confused reader Frank Manuele wondered if the post was supposed to be about Nixon.  In any case, wrote Frank, “I agree totally and you will always find hypocrites coming out of the woodwork when a famous, controversial person passes….May Nixon never rest in peace and may Billy Martin hound Steinbrener throughout eternity!”

One day he may also be hounded by Dave Winfield, who played for Steinbrenner’s Yankees from 1981 to 1990 en route to his election to the Baseball Hall of Fame. Winfield contributed mightily to the Yankee teams that decade, driving in 744 runs between 1982 and 1988 alone, and was named to the American League All-Star team each of those seasons. Winfield won five of his seven Gold Glove Awards for his stellar outfield play as a Yankee.

But in 1985, after the Yankees finished second in the American League East, Steinbrenner publicly derided the future Hall of Famer, referring to him as “Mr. May,” a demeaning comparison with Reggie Jackson, who was known as “Mr. October” for his clutch hitting in late-season and post-season games. Winfield, however, would have the last laugh. In 1992, at age 41, he delivered the game-winning (and World Series ending) double for the Toronto Blue Jays in the 11th inning of their game with the Atlanta Braves. The jubilant headlines in Toronto paid tribute to “Mr. Jay.”

Steinbrenner regularly leaked insulting and trumped-up stories about Winfield to the New York baseball writers. He also ordered Yankee managers to move him down in the batting order and even to bench him. But the bullying Boss was frustrated in his frequent attempts to trade Winfield. Thanks to the efforts of the Major League Players Association, Winfield could not be traded without his consent. He was a “10-and-5” player (10 years in the majors, five years with a single team).

In 1990 Steinbrenner was supposedly “banned for life” from running the Yankees because of his connections to Howie Spira, a known gambler with Mafia connections, whom he had paid $40,000 to provide embarrassing information about Winfield.  (Winfield was traded mid-season to the California Angels and went on to earn Major League Baseball’s Comeback Player of the Year Award.) The Lords of Baseball, who can make the Wise Men of Chelm look like Mensa Society material, lifted the lifetime ban on Steinbrenner after two years.

The Boss’s mistreatment of Billy Martin, Yogi Berra, Dave Winfield, and others who proudly wore the Yankees uniform are a small part of a larger picture. Steinbrenner showed similar contempt for the people of New York City, especially those who live in the Bronx neighborhood closest to Yankee Stadium. Reader Tom Karlson, who took part in that community’s efforts to keep Macombs Dam Park out of Steinbrenner’s reach submitted his recollections in verse:

The Boss (By Tom Karlson)

Ends at eighty
Silver spoon found near his moving jaws
Filled with white teeth and fleeing grey words
1952 Air Force, Ohio bound, no Korea for him

The Boss sending orders
Hiring, firing
Secretaries, managers, coaches
Church going family man

Running his old man’s business
Buys the Yankees 1973 $8.8 million

Stadium renovation, complete 1976
Strapped city shells out
200 million
Yankees, rent less with sweetheart lease
City, landlord from heaven

Extorting dough for Tricky Dick
Obstructing justice…1974 felony
Suspended from baseball 2 years
Pardoned by Ronnie 1989

Desires Macomb’s Dam Park for three decades
Play land, one thousand working class ghosts
Running, racing, catching fungoes, footballs, kicking soccer balls

Second felony
Trying to renege on a contract
Banned for life from baseball, 1990
Sanitized and reinstated 1993
Blackmails city threatens abandonment
Will run the Yanks to Jersey, Connecticut, the West Side
The braying mayor springs for another stadium
Rises up on Macomb’s 28 acres, $2.3 billion
 
Tickets $25 to $5000
The people’s team

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

I wasn’t going to write about George Steinbrenner. I never liked the guy but it doesn’t seem right to kick a man when he’s down…especially when he’s down for the count. But after reading the outpouring of eulogies and tributes, I’ve had some second thoughts. Like I remember how the millionaire owner of the American Ship Building Company was convicted of knowingly funneling illegal contributions to Richard Nixon’s 1972 re-election campaign. Was there ever a more aptly named organization than Nixon’s Committee to Re-elect the President (CREEP)? This was no misdemeanor. It was a felony crime conviction ….but Steinbrenner was able to shrug it off and keep laughing all the way to the bank.

As head honcho at American Ship Bulding, Steinbrenner was known as fiercely anti-labor. After years of hard-fought negotiations with the unions representing workers at the Lorain, Ohio, shipyard, Steinbrenner shut it down in 1983 and moved all operations to Tampa, Florida. He is not remembered fondly in Lorain by the families of those who lost their jobs.  

Nixon and Steinbrenner were kindred spirits. They could “shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time,” which is what Hunter Thompson said about Nixon after Nixon died in 1994. Thompson, who worked for the Times Herald-Record early in his career, had some other choice words for the disgraced former president after his death. It seems appropriate to recall them now in lieu of mourning the passing of Steinbrenner. 

“If the right people had been in charge of Nixon’s funeral, his casket would have been launched into one of those open-sewage canals that empty into the ocean just south of Los Angeles,” wrote the great Gonzo journalist. “He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president. Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal. He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin.

“These are harsh words for a man only recently canonized by President Clinton and my old friend George McGovern–but I have written worse things about Nixon, many times, and the record will show that I kicked him repeatedly long before he went down. I beat him like a mad dog with mange every time I got a chance, and I am proud of it. He was scum.

“Let there be no mistake in the history books about that. Richard Nixon was an evil man–evil in a way that only those who believe in the physical reality of the Devil can understand it. He was utterly without ethics or morals or any bedrock sense of decency. Nobody trusted him—except maybe the Stalinist Chinese, and honest historians will remember him mainly as a rat who kept scrambling to get back on the ship.” Make that a sinking ship built in Tampa by non-union labor.

Goodbye and good ridance to Mr. Steinbrenner.  

Michael can be reached at Michael@zestoforange.com.