President Obama Pardon Private Manning Now !

Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.

This person is not a spy. Private Manning (now, at her request, to be called Chelsea and the heroic soldier Wikileaks whistle-blower formerly known as Bradley) is not a criminal. Private Manning is a brave whistleblower who has exposed war crimes, government misdeeds, and corruption. Private Manning embarrassed the government, but her disclosures did not cause a single documented death. Private Manning released the following documents to WikiLeaks, now faces years up to 35 years in prison (minus the three plus years of pre-trial confinement already served and any "good time" to be accrued), and must be pardoned by President Obama.

*The Collateral Murder Video, which showed U.S. troops firing and killing unarmed
civilians, including a Reuters photographer, and firing on children in a van.

http://www.collateralmurder.com

*U.S. attempts to block investigations into CIA rendition of prisoners.

http://is.gd/poVGfc

*U.S. ignoring torture of Iraqi prisoners.

http://is.gd/2ftWlt

Documentation of many more civilian deaths than had been reported previously.

Documents exposing the corruption of the Tunisian government, which led to rebellion in Tunisia, and the Arab Spring.

http://is.gd/YBlxpS

A cable that proved that U.S. troops executed at least 10 civilians, including a woman
in her 70s and a 5 month old baby, in Ishaqi in 2006, and then called in an air strike to
cover it up. Soldiers involved did not serve a day in jail! This led to the Iraqi government refusing to allow U.S. troops to remain after 2011.

http://is.gd/cmzrtc

*Many more war crimes and revelations, including spying on diplomats at the U.N.

Contact the White House at 202-456-1414 and demand that Pres. Obama pardon Manning. Or
go to http://www.whitehouse.gov and leave your comments.

To send letters of solidarity and support the new address for sending letters to Manning; these must still be addressed to "Bradley" to be delivered:

Bradley E. Manning

89289

1300 N. Warehouse Road

Fort Leavenworth, Kansas

66027-2304

 

 

Call General Buchanan And Request Clemency For Private Manning!

Call (202) 685-2900-The military is pulling out all the stops to chill efforts to increase transparency in our government. Now, we’re asking you to join us to ensure we’re doing all we can to secure Private Manning's freedom as well as protection for future whistleblowers.

Major General Jeffery S. Buchanan is the Convening Authority for Private Maning's court- martial proceedings , which means that he has the authority to decrease Private Manning's sentence, no matter what the judge handed down (35 years). On August 28th hundreds of activists joined supporters in DC to demonstrate at Maj. Gen. Buchanan’s base, Ft. McNair. We are asking you to join support our action demanding he do the right thing by calling, faxing, and e-mailing his Public Affairs Office.

Let’s Remind Maj. General Buchanan:

• that Private Manning was held for nearly a year in abusive solitary confinement, which the UN torture chief called “cruel, inhuman, and degrading”
• that President Obama has unlawfully influenced the trial with his declaration of Private Manning’s guilt.
• that the media has been continually blocked from transcripts and documents related to the trial and that it has only been through the efforts of Private Manning’s supporters that any transcripts exist.
• that under the UCMJ a soldier has the right to a speedy trial and that it was unconscionable to wait 3 years before starting the court martial.
• that absolutely no one was harmed by the release of documents that exposed war crimes, unnecessary secrecy and disturbing foreign policy.
• that Private Manning is a hero who did the right thing when he revealed truth about wars that had been based on lies.

Remind General Buchanan that Private Manning’s rights have been trampled – Enough is enough!

Please help us reach all these important contacts: Adrienne Combs, Deputy Officer Public Affairs (202) 685-2900 adrienne.m.combs.civ@mail.mil

Col. Michelle Martin-Hing, Public Affairs Officer (202) 685-4899michelle.l.martinhing.mil@mail.mil The Public Affairs Office fax #: 202-685-0706

Try e-mailing Maj. Gen. Buchanan at jeffrey.s.buchanan@us.army.mil

The Public Affairs Office is required to report up the chain of command the number of calls they receive on a particular issue, so please help us flood the office with support for whistleblower Bradley Manning today!

Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.

Send The Following Message (Or Write Your Own) To The President In Support Of A Pardon For Private Manning


To: President Barack Obama
White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, D.C. 20500

The draconian 35 years sentence handed down by a military judge, Colonel Lind, on August 21, 2013 to Private Manning (Chelsea formerly known as Bradley) has outraged many citizens including me.

Under Article II, Section II of the U.S. Constitution the President of the United States had the authority to grant pardons to those who fall under federal jurisdiction.

Some of the reasons for my request include:

*that Private Manning was held for nearly a year in abusive solitary confinement at the Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, which the UN raconteur in his findings has called “cruel, inhuman, and degrading”

*that the media had been continually blocked from transcripts and documents related to the trial and that it has only been through the efforts of Private Manning’s supporters that any transcripts exist.

*that under the UCMJ a soldier has the right to a speedy trial and that it was unconscionable and unconstitutional to wait 3 years before starting the court martial.

*that absolutely no one was harmed by the release of documents that exposed war crimes, unnecessary secrecy and disturbing foreign policy.

*that Private Manning is a hero who did the right thing when she revealed truth about wars that had been based on lies.

I urge you to use your authority under the Constitution to right the wrongs done to Private Manning – Enough is enough!

Signature ___________________________________________________________

Print Name __________________________________________________________

Address_____________________________________________________________

City / Town/State/Zip Code_________________________________________

Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.

We Will Not Leave Our Sister Behind-President Obama Pardon Private Chelsea Manning Now!

Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.

From The Pen Of Peter Paul Markin

The headlines of the summer are now still. The verdict, the legal verdict if not the verdict of history, in the case of the United States vs. Private First Class Bradley Manning has been proclaimed, guilty on 20 of 22 counts. The draconian 35 year sentence has been imposed by the cruel pro-government military judge, Colonel Lind. The media pundits and commentators too have had their say, mainly that stern justice had been served by the conviction, a conviction in keeping with their own desire to keep things secret from us and not let some lowly enlisted soldier expose their house of cards. Some, like the ostrich-like New York Times, balked a little at the excessive sentence and then moved on. Others had a momentary titter when Bradley turned into Chelsea to express her real gender and then they too moved on. All is now quiet, the case is yesterday’s news now long outside the 24/7 cycle interest. In their eyes Private Manning has had her fifteen minutes of fame and now she is reduced to just another military prisoner confined to the maximum security barracks out in the prairies of Kansas at Fort Leavenworth to face an uncertain future.

Chelsea Manning now also faces the hard fate that occurs in almost all political prisoner cases, doing the hard time while waiting for the slow cumbersome appeals process to work its way through the military and civilian courts of appeal. Waits in the near term for a possible reduction in sentence by the convening officer of Private Manning’s court-martial who has the authority to do so, General Buchanan. And waits too, with fading hopes, for some short way home presidential pardon from a President who wrongfully interjected himself into the case with his comments early on. That pardon campaign took a serious turn for the worst when a recent Amnesty International/ Private Manning Support Network White House on-line petition failed, falling seriously short of getting the required 100,000 signatures that would have forced the Obama Administration to address the question posed by the petition.

She must also face the very real falloff that has already occurred in the positive public support and activity around her case now that the verdict and sentence are in and the media interest has shut down around the case. Also there will fewer periodic public rallies around the world from Afghanistan to the States on her behalf, reflecting a diffusion of focus now that supporters are not riveted to the public presence at trial. The long list of those celebrities and average citizens who have contributed their names, their time, their money and their energies have and will fall off on behalf of our heroic Wikileaks whistle-blower as well. Even strong and committed supporters who have led the Manning efforts here in the Boston, including members of an organization I support, Veterans for Peace, and who have publicized the case for the past three years have decided to curtail their weekly stand-out that had been running over the past two years. They have decided to pursue other less public strategies to gain Chelsea’s freedom. To fight that battle for her freedom on other fronts from fund-raising events to contacting any governmental officials who will “grease the way” to the President to give us a hearing on the pardon application.

And that last point is really the crux of this commentary. The struggle continues, continues until Chelsea is free. That is where mentioning the support of Veterans for Peace comes in, people who have served in the military, who have gotten “religion” on the right side of the angels on the questions of war and peace and who have stood in solidarity with, and defense of, Private Manning since almost the beginning of her incarceration. All of us, whether we served in wars or in “peace-time,”went through the rigors and madness of basic training where hoary old drill sergeants beat us over the head with the notion that you had to take care of your buddy, that your survival and by this they meant in the heat of battle depended on buying into that concept. Any veteran can tell you many stories about how in the end their involvement with the military came down to just that embedded idea when the deal went done and the dust settled. Not letting down their buddies. Not leaving your buddies behind. Whether most drilled-in military concepts are worth anything is hard to judge, fear and recklessness may in fact play a larger role. Nevertheless we can take that not leaving your buddy behind concept and apply it here. However we may end up supporting Chelsea Manning it is with the understanding that she is our buddy. We will not leave our sister behind. Remember that. Remember this as well- President Obama Pardon Private Chelsea Manning Now!

***The Age Of Andrew Jackson-A Plebeian View

BOOK REVIEW

LIBERTY AND POWER, HARRY L. WATSON, THE NOON DIAL PRESS, NEW YORK, 1990

The central story line of the Jacksonian period economically, socially and politically was the fight over the establishment, continuation and rechartering of the Bank of the United States which despite its name was a privately owned corporation headed by the notorious Nicholas Biddle. In short the story was, as almost always under capitalism, about the money. Hard money, paper money, metallic money, federal money, state money, no money. It is all there. As confusing and, frankly, somewhat trivial as the issues may seem to the 21st century mind the various fights determined the path of capitalist formation for the rest of the 19th century. One does not have to be a partisan of any particular monetary policy to know that if the Biddle-led forces had won then capital formation in the United States would have taken a very different turn. Thus, the essential Jacksonian victory on the bank question is one that militants today can give a retroactive endorsement. This is the story the author tries to bring to life. I believe that Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.'s Age of Jackson is still the definitive general work on the period but if you need a shorter overview this book will suffice.

Although control of the money was the underlying premise for the political fights of the day they also represented some very different appreciations of what American society should look like. Watson goes to great pains to highlight the various factions within each of the coalescing parties that would come to form the Democratic and Republican two-party system that we are familiar with today. Watson does a better job on the formation of the party system than Schlesinger. The fights outlined had different implications for differing sections of the country. In that regard the names Daniel Webster, John C. Calhoun and Henry Clay and their various congressional devotees can generally stand to represent the various sectional interests. One might also note that names that became familiar in the immediate pre-Civil War period, like Abraham Lincoln, James Buchanan, John Bell, Gideon Welles, William Seward, etc. started to receive political notice as secondary figures during this period.

One should also note that this was a period of political realignment and that the political situation was fluid enough that with changing political winds the various leading personalities were as likely to change sides as not. Readers should pick up the trail that is only alluded to here on the importance on the third party Liberty and Free Soil parties. Despite that lapse dealing with the various political manifestations of the period is the strongest part of Mr. Watson's book.

***The Struggle Against British Imperialism-Part II- Symbol Of An Age- 'Old Hickory' Andrew Jackson

Book Review

Andrew Jackson-Symbol for an Age, John William Ward, Oxford University Press, London, 1962

American democratic politics, as can be easily seen in this year's presidential nominating processes, has always been encumbered with symbols. That fact is hardly new or news. What is news is that today's seemingly modern notion of proper electoral technique has a fairly ancient pedigree. Although Parson Weems did more than his share to establish the iconic figure of George Washington, arguably the subject of this work, Andrew Jackson, really was the first president to get the full public relations `spin' treatment that we take as a matter of course in today's politics.

The present volume builds the case for Jackson symbolic virtues at a time when America, after a series of nasty encounters with the British, notably the War of 1812, developed an inward look westward and away from the `degeneracy' of the seaboard. If Jackson did not fit the bill to a tee then his agents, paid or otherwise, filled in the blanks. First place in those efforts goes to highlighting his military prowess and soldierly concerns in defeating (to what real purpose no one knows since the war was over by this time) against the British at the tail end of the War of 1812 at the Battle of New Orleans.

From there it was fairly simple to make him a man of the' people'. In this case the people being empathically not the residents of the eastern seaboard but the `fresh' yeomanry of the Westward trek. You know- the ones who exhibited all the plebian virtues as solid tillers of the soil, holders of folk wisdom against the effete nabobs of the cities and the true patriots of rising American agricultural capitalism. The author builds his case by using a series of fairly common references beginning his work with an analysis of a Jackson poetic tribute `The Hunters of Kentucky' and dissects that bit of work to see how it fit into the scheme of making Jackson the first "people's" president. All the other tributes and, at the end eulogies, then fall into place.

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery then his Whig opponents do that by learning from his handlers by the time of the `Tippecanoe' Harrison campaign of 1840. And from there we are off to the races. Note this- as if to reinforce the argument presented by the book- can anyone today deny that that myth around Jackson built so long ago still, with the exception of a dent caused by his savagery against the Native Americans, stands as the way he is thought of in the American pantheon? The Democrats continue their traditional Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinners without blushing. Enough said.

***The 19th Century "Second Great Awakening"- Joseph Smith and the Mormons

American Experience:The Mormons, various commentators, PBS Productions, 2006

At first glance the trials and tribulations, historically and currently of a fundamentalist protestant sect, the Mormons and their various off-shoots, would not seem to be the stuff of a left-wing secular political site. And in the normal course that would be true. However, there several reasons why this particular religious sect interests me. First, from early on I have been interested in that wild and somewhat decisive period in forming the national psyche in American history that goes under the name the “Age of Jackson”. The story of Joesph Smith, his early followers and later converts easily fit into this time in the early decades of the 19th century when a plethora of religious, political and social movements got jump-started by the freer and more democratic style of the Jackson period.

To that end, I have spend a serious amount of space here covering the anti-slavery movement, including the emergence of the abolitionist Underground Railroad and the exploits of the revolutionary abolitionist and hero of the black liberation movement, John Brown, a figure who easily fits into the kinds of individuals who were “making and doing” in that ante bellum period. I have also spend some time discussing the effects of that “burned-over” religious process that goes under the name the Second Awakening on the development of early American capitalism, especially in its upstate New York variant that the founder of this sect, Joseph Smith (and later leader Brigham Young) were immersed in. Additionally I have been interested in the Mormons, as such, more recently because in the 2008 Republican presidential nominating process and in 2012 as the nominee, one Mitt Romney, ex-Governor of Massachusetts and a prominent Mormon was forced, or felt forced, to deal with the more esoteric aspects of his religion.

Finally, the most important reason to get a better knowledge of this group is that, at least some of its off-shoots, are periodically targeted by various governmental agencies for their practice of polygamy, or as they would have it “plural marriage”. It is a political duty for leftists as, “tribunes of the people” to defend these sects against those governmental incursions. We do this under the umbrella principle that the government should leave private consensual practice alone. In short, we stand for the principle of “government out of the bedrooms”. Although personally, having had trouble enough just having two girlfriends at one time in my youth, I do not see how they managed it. My hat is off to the likes of Mitt Romney’s great-grandfather and other 19th century leaders. According to this documentary Brigham Young had some fifty wives and fifty-something children. No wonder the Mormons felt they needed to devote some much time to genealogy charts.

This four hour documentary goes into all of aspects of the Mormon story. However, for my purposes the first two hour segment was most important concerning the founding myths and trials and tribulations of the early Mormons as they kept getting banished further westward until they found a final central settlement in Utah. The second two hour segment concerning the assimilation of the more orthodox Mormons into the mainstream of political and social life and their successes at political power and their growth through missionary zeal are less important. We have been there before on this assimilation question for other ethnic and religious groups, notably the Roman Catholics of Irish, Italian and Eastern European heritage so that part was not of pressing concern to me.

I know the land that nurtured Mormon founder Joseph Smith, the farm country of upstate, mid-state New York. Places like Utica, Amsterdam, Rochester and so forth. At least I know the late 20th century version of those places. The seemingly endless rolling hills, the hard scrabble rocky land where there is no give without some Herculean effort. The vast tracts of trees and other obstacles to farming to be uprooted and brought to manageable size. The hard, hard winters that start early and end late. Hell, that is what it is like now so one can only imagine what it was like for those who in the early 19th early were essentially on the American frontier looking to see if or why their god had abandoned them. There were more seekers, peekers, ranters, panter, shakers and quakers than you could shake a stick at this side of the 17th century English revolution. Put that together with a charismatic, rather mystical and intelligent young man, Joseph Smith, and you certainly have the genesis for some kind of religious movement. Or a political one for that matter. In a latter age that might very well have been the case. Whether, and if, such a plebian movement based on “revealed” truth could survive among the others more secular trends in the labor movement is the real question.

The documentary goes into some detail about Smith’s ability to gain converts (and spin off dissenters) after his conversion experience. It moves on to discuss the creation of the first Mormon communities in upstate New York, the pressure of other Christian denominations to push them out, the success of that effort and the first evacuation of Mormons to Missouri. After some hotly disputed fights from there to Illinois where Smith was assassination by other non-Mormon Christians. Then on to the Brigham Young- led treks to the West, the establishment of thriving settlements there, the infamous, if shadowy Mountain Meadow massacre by the Mormons on other settlers that, in effect, consolidated Mormon political power in the Utah territories; the fight over polygamy and the eventual entrance into statehood and the assimilation process mentioned above.

I first began looking for Mormon material over a year ago. I started and put down more than one biography about Joseph Smith or Brigham Young. Or histories of the early days (especially that controversial Mountain Meadow incident). The problem is that most of this material is by Mormons or Mormon-influenced authors and I felt I had to discount most of it, especially the "myth of creation” aspects around what Joseph Smith did or did not find out in those lonesome hills of up state New York. This documentary, more so than other PBS documentaries in this “American Experience” series suffer some of that same problem. There are too many “talking heads” identified as historians without being designated as Mormon historians. This is not generally a problem in other PBS productions. Still, if you need a well-produced introduction to this esoteric religion this is a good place to start. And perhaps to finish.

From The Marxist Archives- In Honor Of The 64th Anniversary Year Of The Chinese Revolution of 1949-On Defense of Dependent Countries Against Imperialism 

Markin comment (repost from 2012):

On a day when we are honoring the 63rd anniversary of the Chinese revolution of 1949 the article posted in this entry and the comment below take on added meaning. In the old days, in the days when I had broken from many of my previously held left social-democratic political views and had begun to embrace Marxism with a distinct tilt toward Trotskyism, I ran into an old revolutionary in Boston who had been deeply involved (although I did not learn the extend of that involvement until later) in the pre-World War II socialist struggles in Eastern Europe. The details of that involvement will not detain us here now but the import of what he had to impart to me about the defense of revolutionary gains has stuck with me until this day. And, moreover, is germane to the subject of this article from the pen of Leon Trotsky -the defense of the Chinese revolution and the later gains of that third revolution (1949) however currently attenuated.

This old comrade, by the circumstances of his life, had escaped that pre-war scene in fascist-wracked Europe and found himself toward the end of the 1930s in New York working with the Trotskyist Socialist Workers Party in the period when that organization was going through intense turmoil over the question of defense of the Soviet Union. In the history of American (and international) Trotskyism this is the famous Max Shachtman-James Burnham led opposition that declared, under one theory or another, that the previously defendable Soviet Union had changed dramatically enough in the course of a few months to be no longer worth defending by revolutionaries.

What struck him from the start about this dispute was the cavalier attitude of the anti-Soviet opposition, especially among the wet-behind-the-ears youth, on the question of that defense and consequently about the role that workers states, healthy, deformed or degenerated, as we use the terms of art in our movement, as part of the greater revolutionary strategy. Needless to say most of those who abandoned defense of the Soviet Union when there was even a smidgeon of a reason to defend it left politics and peddled their wares in academia or business. Or if they remained in politics lovingly embraced the virtues of world imperialism.

That said, the current question of defense of the Chinese Revolution hinges on those same premises that animated that old Socialist Workers Party dispute. And strangely enough (or maybe not so strangely) on the question of whether China is now irrevocably on the capitalist road, or is capitalist already (despite some very un-capitalistic economic developments over the past few years), I find that many of those who oppose that position have that same cavalier attitude the old comrade warned me against back when I was first starting out. There may come a time when we, as we had to with the Soviet Union and other workers states, say that China is no longer a workers state. But today is not that day. In the meantime study the issue, read the posted article, and more importantly, defend the gains of the Chinese Revolution.
***********

Workers Vanguard No. 977	1 April 2011

TROTSKY

LENIN

On Defense of Dependent Countries Against Imperialism

(Quote of the Week)

As the U.S., France and Britain lead the murderous bombing campaign against semicolonial Libya in the name of “protecting civilians,” social-democratic groups beat the drums for the Libyan “opposition,” the imperialists’ front men on the ground. Writing on the need for proletarian revolution to rid the world of imperialist war, Bolshevik leader Leon Trotsky insisted that the working class must militarily defend oppressed nations under imperialist attack and excoriated the League of Nations, predecessor to the United Nations under whose imprimatur the war against Libya was begun.

Capitalist brigands always conduct a “defensive” war, even when Japan is marching against Shanghai and France against Syria or Morocco. The revolutionary proletariat distinguishes only between wars of oppression and wars of liberation. The character of a war is defined, not by diplomatic falsifications, but by the class which conducts the war and the objective aims it pursues in that war. The wars of the imperialist states, apart from the pretexts and political rhetoric, are of an oppressive character, reactionary and inimical to the people. Only the wars of the proletariat and of the oppressed nations can be characterized as wars of liberation....

The League of Nations is the citadel of imperialist pacifism. It represents a transitory historical combination of capitalist states in which the stronger command and buy out the weaker, then crawl on their bellies before America or try to resist; in which all equally are enemies of the Soviet Union, but are prepared to cover up each and every crime of the most powerful and rapacious among them. Only the politically blind, only those who are altogether helpless or who deliberately corrupt the conscience of the people, can consider the League of Nations, directly or indirectly, today or tomorrow, an instrument of peace....

Whoever directly or indirectly supports the system of colonization and protectorates, the domination of British capital in India, the domination of Japan in Korea or in Manchuria, of France in Indochina or in Africa, whoever does not fight against colonial enslavement, whoever does not support the uprisings of the oppressed nations and their independence, whoever defends or idealizes Gandhism, that is, the policy of passive resistance on questions which can be solved only by force of arms, is, despite good intentions or bad, a lackey, an apologist, an agent of the imperialists, of the slaveholders, of the militarists, and helps them to prepare new wars in pursuit of their old aims or new.

—Leon Trotsky, “Declaration to the Antiwar Congress at Amsterdam” (July 1932)

***The Queen Of Parlor Detection- Agatha Christie’s “Then There Were None”- A Film Review

DVD Review

Then There Were None, starring Barry Fitzgerald, directed by Rene Clair, 1945
No question that I like my detective stories to feature hard-boiled, world- wary, world-weary tough guy detectives ready to take a slug or two for some windmill cause, or, better, for some wayward dame, for some two-timing femme fatale who gets her comeuppance (or not) as he keeps that shoulder to the wheel seeking to eke some rough justice out of this wicked old world. Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade and Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe come easily, and readily, to mind. As do such films as The Big Sleep, The Maltese Falcon, and The Thin Man.

Of course before Hammett and Chandler toughened up the crime-fighting world with their hard-edged windmill seekers of rough justice such heavy lifting was done in parlors, and drawing rooms. Figured out by gallants, professional or not. And the queen of parlor detection was Agatha Christie who spent a life’s career creating such works, such works as the film adaptation of her work under review, Then There Were None.” (And a later film version under the title Ten Little Indians)

Now Ms. Christie never recoiled from piling the corpses high (although usually not in the parlor, or drawing room) and she does not fail us here. Here ten people of various class backgrounds and professions are invited to a seaside English manor house (of course, Ms. Christie was, ah, English and manor houses have lots of rooms to stuff corpses in and big parlors too for the overload) by a Mr. Owen for some nefarious purpose.

What joins the ten together is that all bear various amounts of responsibility for the deaths (murders?) of one or more persons. And while the law was not able to bring them to even rough justice it is soon apparent, as the bodies pile up, that Mr. Owen is seeking to be his own avenger. Except of course one cannot go around committing mass murder by the numbers (literally with a ten, nine..., countdown right on the dinner room table to keep a scorecard tabulation) especially since the villain of the piece (one of the ten) perhaps did not peruse the records as carefully as he/she should have and not everybody is guilty of murder, or anything.

Maybe there are fewer corpses (although sometimes not by much) but give me that windmill-tilting, take a punch for the good of the cause, hard-boiled detective, especially those twisting in the wind over some two-timing frail every time. Agatha, your time has passed.

***A Man Of Africa- The Music Of Tony Bird

I could find nothing on YouTube of Tony Bird doing anything but "Mango Time" although the incredible "Rift Valley" and my personal favorite "She Came From The Karoo" are better to the ear. Maybe someone else will have more luck.

CD REVIEW

Sorry Africa, Tony Bird, Rounder Records, 1990

Blues and rural folk music, historically important on the American music scene, have always been in debt, acknowledged or not, to the sounds of Africa. Without getting into a treatise here on that subject if one is interested in the blues then it should be one's business as it was for a poet like Langston Hughes, for example, to dig into the African roots. The same quest, obviously, needs to be taken for those in who live in an increasing urbanized Africa today. Tony Bird, the artist under review here, is a man of Africa and takes that identity seriously. Moreover he is a white man of Africa. And to top that off he is a white man, one of the few unfortunately when it counted, who stood up against colonialism, neo-colonialism, white racism and apartheid. Hats off.

Somehow, someway Tony Bird through that experience has incorporated the language, the sound and, most importantly, the spirit of Africa in his music. That feat is put on display front and center in this nicely done, although all too short, CD that shows that he has assimilated those traditions. Starting from the lushly poetic, upbeat "Rift Valley" through to his signature jump tune "Mango Time" through the politically-driven title track "Sorry Africa" his sense of his African homeland shines through. He is not as successful when he slows down the beat and gets caught up with trying to deliver a message on a track like "Athlone Place" but that is merely a minor flaw in this well-produced CD by Rounder Records. By the way, Tony, for your efforts against colonialism and white racism there is no need to say sorry. The new Africa that is struggling, painfully, fitfully and with reverses to be `aborning' should recognize that.

Note: I first heard Tony Bird many years ago on an old vinyl record album entitled "Tony Bird" where I was mesmerized by his "Rift Valley" and more so by "She Came From The Karoo". The reason that I am reviewing this 1990 CD is that I recently attended a Tony Bird concert where he did a few of the songs from that old album. I make the same comment about that performance as I do about this CD. He does his Africa-centered songs as lustily and with the verve of twenty years ago, and still is as mesmerizing. His `message' songs, none of them included here, are more uneven. "New Jerusalem' is very powerful (if a little long) concerning the need for some kind of just settlement to the Palestinian question. However, "Mr. Meanie" a parable about the Bush years, "Aint't Nobody's Business Who You Love" about the varieties of possibilities inherent in the love experience and "Well Done, America", his Africa tribute to the election of Barack Obama as the first black American president were less so. Still, if you get a chance, he is well worth seeing when he hits his stride.

***From The Archives (2009)The Duke Is Rockin’ His Castle- In Honor Of The 110th Birthday Anniversary Of Duke Ellington

A YouTube Film Clip Of Duke Ellington And His Band Performing "Mood Indigo"

CD Review

In Honor Of The 110th Birthday Anniversary Of Duke Ellington

Duke Ellington: The Blanton-Webster Band, 1940-42, Bluebird, 1986

Those who follow the reviews in this space may have read a response to a commenter that I wrote recently in reviewing John Cohen’s (from the old folk group The New Lost City Ramblers) “There Is No Eye: Music For Photographs” CD. That CD contained many country blues, urban folk, city blues and rural mountain musical treats (as well as a little tribute to the “beats” of the 1950’s). The gist of my comment was an attempt to draw a connection between my leftist sympathies and the search for American roots music that has driven many of my reviews lately. That said, no one, at least no one with any sense of the American past can deny the importance of the emergence of jazz as a quintessentially American black music form of expression. In short, roots music. And if you want to look at the master, or at least one of the masters (if you need to include King Oliver and Louis Armstrong, as well), of the early years of this genre then look no further- you are home. Duke is in his castle.

Now I am by no means a jazz aficionado. In fact, if anything, I am a Johnnie-come- lately to an appreciation of jazz. More to the point as a youth I never really liked it (except some of the more bluesy-oriented pieces that I would occasionally hear like Armstrong’s “Potato Blues” that I was crazy for when I first heard them) as against the other musical genres that I was interested in. Then, with all the hoopla over Duke’s 100th birthday anniversary ten years ago, in 1999, I decided to investigate further. I had to ask someone what would be a good CD of Duke’s to listen to. This Blanton-Webster Band of 1940-42 was what was suggested. And that person was not wrong. This thing is hot, extremely hot.

Remember these Ellington tone poems, that is all I can think to call them, were done back in the day when dukes, counts, kings, queens and empresses ruled the jazz empire. Others may have their favorites from this period but can one really beat a jazz combo that has Cootie Williams, Barney Bigard, Harry Carney, Jimmy Blanton, Ben Webster and my favorite Ellington player, tenor sax man Johnny Hodges, on it. You had better go “big” if you’re going to beat that group of talented musicians. Okay, what about the pieces. On Disc One how about a jumping “Jack The Bear, “Ko-Ko’, “Dusk” and “In A Mellotone”. On Disc Two “Five O’clock Whistle”, the classic “Take The “A” Train”, “I Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good) and “Blue Serge”. On Disc Three, a sultry carib-flavored “Moon Over Cuba”, the sardonic “Rocks In My Bed”, “Perdido”, the haunting “Moon Mist” and the famous “Sentimental Lady”. Nice. I may not be a jazz aficionado but that isn’t a bad list, is it?

***Once More Into The Time Capsule, Part Three- The New York Folk Revival Scene in the Early 1960’s-The Late Richie Havens

A YouTube' film clip of Richie Havens performing Bob Dylan's "Just Like A Woman"

CD Review

Washington Square Memoirs: The Great Urban Folk Revival Boom, 1950-1970, various artists, 3CD set, Rhino Records, 2001

Except for the reference to the origins of the talent brought to the city the same comments apply for this CD. Rather than repeat information that is readily available in the booklet and on the discs I’ll finish up here with some recommendations of songs that I believe that you should be sure to listen to:


Disc Three: Phil Ochs on “I Ain’t Marching Anymore”, Richard &Mimi Farina on “Pack Up Your Sorrows”, John Hammond on “Drop Down Mama”, Jim Kweskin & The Jug Band on “Rag Mama”, John Denver on “Bells Of Rhymney”, Gordon Lightfoot on "Early Morning Rain”, Eric Andersen on “Thirsty Boots”, Tim Hardin on “Reason To Believe”, Richie Havens on “Just Like A Woman”, Judy Collins on “Suzanne”, Tim Buckley on “Once I Was”, Tom Rush on “The Circle Game”, Taj Mahal on “Candy Man”, Loudon Wainwright III on “School Days”and Arlo Guthrie on “The Motorcycle Song”

Richie Havens on “Just Like A Woman”. I have mentioned earlier that good Pete Seeger covers are hard to find. That is definitely not the case with Brother Dylan. While he has placed his signature on many of his songs there have been so many that other singers had a chance to make their mark covering his work. That is the case here. Haven’s version of this song is the definitive one for timing, sense of the song, phrasing, hell, everything. He is also one of the few, Taj Mahal being another, black folk artists who came out of that 1960s folk revival. Strange in a way, because back then without the ‘discovery’ of old black 1920s country blues singers like Son House, Skip James and John Hurt, and other black sources of the revival it would have lost quite a lot of it authentic flavor.

Just Like A Woman

Nobody feels any pain
Tonight as I stand inside the rain
Ev'rybody knows
That Baby's got new clothes
But lately I see her ribbons and her bows
Have fallen from her curls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

Queen Mary, she's my friend
Yes, I believe I'll go see her again
Nobody has to guess
That Baby can't be blessed
Till she sees finally that she's like all the rest
With her fog, her amphetamine and her pearls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

It was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what's worse
Is this pain in here
I can't stay in here
Ain't it clear that--

I just can't fit
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit
When we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes, you do
You make love just like a woman, yes, you do
Then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little girl.

Copyright ©1966; renewed 1994 Dwarf Music

***Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- As We Dodge The Bullet (For Now) On Syria- Pete Seeger's "Waist Deep In The Big Muddy"

A "YouTube " film clip of Pete Seeger performing his classic anti-war cautionary tale, ""Waist Deep In The Big Muddy".

No, today I am not going to beat you over the head with a screed about how music, in whatever form, is not the revolution. You know that already, and if not life itself should have disabused you of that notion long ago. Music, however, has always had an important place in the history of progressive movements as a way to rouse the troops and keep the faith. I think back to the days of Cromwell’s plebeian New Model Army, singing New Testament psalms, while going off to do battle against England’s King Charles I’s royalist forces that started the whole modern revolutionary movement. Or the songs of the French revolution. Or those of the modern labor movement like “The Internationale”. I could go on, but you get the point.

In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.

Markin comment:

This is a repost of an entry I have placed on this site many, too many times. Today, unfortunately, it bears repeating:

Every once in a while (more frequently than I would like) old Pete Seeger's song about his World War II adventures that served as a parable for President Lyndon Johnson and his constant Vietnam escalations, "Waist Deep In The Big Muddy” just seems appropriate. This is one of those occasions. Just switch "Big Poppy" for "Big Muddy" and you will have it just about right. And to make sure we have it right- Obama- Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of All U.S./Allied Troops And Mercenaries From Afghanistan !

"Waist Deep In The Big Muddy"-Pete Seeger

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube " film clip of Pete Seeger performing his classic anti-war cautionary tale, ""Waist Deep In The Big Muddy".

No, today I am not going to beat you over the head with a screed about how music, in whatever form, is not the revolution. You know that already, and if not life itself should have disabused you of that notion long ago. Music, however, has always had an important place in the history of progressive movements as a way to rouse the troops and keep the faith. I think back to the days of Cromwell’s plebeian New Model Army, singing New Testament psalms, while going off to do battle against England’s King Charles I’s royalist forces that started the whole modern revolutionary movement. Or the songs of the French revolution. Or those of the modern labor movement like “The Internationale”. I could go on, but you get the point.

In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.


Markin comment:

This is a repost of an entry I have placed on this site many, too many times. Today, unfortunately, it bears repeating:

Every once in a while (more frequently than I would like) old Pete Seeger's song about his World War II adventures that served as a parable for President Lyndon Johnson and his constant Vietnam escalations, "Waist Deep In The Big Muddy” just seems appropriate. This is one of those occasions. Just switch "Big Poppy" for "Big Muddy" and you will have it just about right. And to make sure we have it right- Obama- Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of All U.S./Allied Troops And Mercenaries From Afghanistan and Iraq!

"Waist Deep In The Big Muddy"-Pete Seeger

It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in-a Loozianna,
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That's how it all begun.
We were -- knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the big fool said to push on.
The Sergeant said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?"
"Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
'Bout a mile above this place.
It'll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We'll soon be on dry ground."
We were -- waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.
The Sergeant said, "Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim."
"Sergeant, don't be a Nervous Nellie,"
The Captain said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I'll lead on."
We were -- neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.
All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain's helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, "Turn around men!
I'm in charge from now on."
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.
We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn't know that the water was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
'Bout a half mile from where we'd gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the big fool said to push on.
Well, I'm not going to point any moral;
I'll leave that for yourself
Maybe you're still walking, you're still talking
You'd like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We're -- waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep! Soon even a
Tall man'll be over his head, we're
Waist deep in the Big Muddy!
And the big fool says to push on!
  

***California Dreamin’- The Music Of The Mamas And The Papas

A "YouTube" film clip of the Mamas and the Papas performing "Monday, Monday".
CD Review

The Best of the Mamas and the Papas, The Mamas and the Papas, SPA, 1998

Over the past couple of years I have reviewed a fair number of performers from the folk revival of the 1960s. Looking over quickly the names of those reviewed discloses a personal predilection for individual performers, although there were plenty of good to excellent groups around at the time, like the New Lost City Ramblers, The Greenbriar Boys, The Chambers Brothers, The Clancy Brothers, and other such groups who did traditional folk music.

As folk evolved, in the mid-1960s, a little away from those more traditional forms and into something like folk rock, younger groups picked up on the spirit of the movement with their own more modern lyrics and more harmonic works. The classic example in this genre would probably be Peter, Paul and Mary but the group under review, the Mamas and the Papas, also fits that description as well. Led vocally by big-voiced "Mama" Cass and with lyrics written by lead male singer "Papa" John Phillips the group had a number of hits in that folk rock moment, many of them on this compilation.

So what is still good almost half a century later? Well, "California Dreamin" still holds its own as a signature song for the foursome. As does "Monday, Monday" and "Words Of Love". The real surprise is their cover of the old Benny King classic (written by Jerry Leiber and Phil Spector), "Spanish Harlem". That song also displays the great harmonics, the feel and balance, as well as the understated performance that was the M&P hallmark.

California Dreamin' Lyrics-John Phillips, Michelle Phillips

All the leaves are brown
(All the leaves are brown)
And the sky is gray.
(And the sky is gray).
I've been for a walk
(I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day.
(On a winter's day).

I'd be safe and warm
(I'd be safe and warm)
if I was in L.A.
(If I was in L.A.)
California dreamin'
(California dreamin') on such a winter's day.

Stopped in to a church I passed along the way.
Well I got down on my knees
(got down on my knees)
And I pretend to pray.
(I pretend to pray).
You know the preacher likes the cold.
(preacher likes the cold).
He knows I'm gonna stay.
(knows I'm gonna stay).
California dreamin'
(California dreamin') on such a winter's day.

(Bridge)

All the leaves are brown
(All the leaves are brown)
And the sky is gray.
(And the sky is gray).
I've been for a walk
(I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day.
(On a winter's day).

If I didn't tell her
(If I didn't tell her)
I could leave today.
(I could leave today).
California dreamin' (California dreamin')on such a winter's day,
California dreamin' on such a winter's day,
California dreamin' on such a winter's day.

***You Don’t Need Thomas Wolfe To Know You Can’t Go Home Again-Redux

Damn memory twist. Damn memory stick. No, not the techno-gismo gadget, the old noggin, noodle, gray matter or whatever you call the place, the dark hidden place mainly, where memory haunts you every once in a while. And won’t let go of you. Won’t let go of you like it will not let go of me lately. Damn stick.

Who knows when you first realized that, to use Thomas Wolfe’s book title as reference and refrain, you can’t go home again ever, even in deep memory recess, in deep memory haunt. Certainly it was not when you were young, a mere child, memories then came and went like the flittering light, or like some unwashed foam-flecked ocean wave receding as fast as it hit the receiving shore sand. Later, in young adult time, you were just too freaking busy, busy making the stuff of memories, to actually pay attention. So, maybe, it works like this once you get that memory bank filled and overflowing filled they come back, come back in memory haunt fashion. All I know is that a few years back, bank filled or not, I felt that old time feeling, and worst, tried to do something about it. Tried to change the course of events already etched in stone, to rewrite history if you like. Silly me, although easier to say now than then.

See, memory makes no sense, makes no stored-away sense, unless it can be properly subjected to certain tests. The could have, would have, should have tests. Like a penitent reprobate you think through, seriously think through, a variation of the theme of how you could have kept that old chestnut from Sunday school times about obeying and honoring parents and kin better. Stuff like that. Hey, after all that is where you got your memory chance anyway. And probably, like me, you have your armful of regrets about why you missed this thing and that, did or did not do the other thing. But I am here to speak of no avails, no avails at all when the deal goes down.

The storm and stress of any growing up absurd in any period in America (or anywhere else for that matter but I am here so I will keep it narrow) need not detain us here. You know the where-were-you-late last night-did-you-know-Johnny- X-did-(or didn’t)- do-this-or-that-what-are-you-going-to-make-of-your-life, and I have run out of hyphens drill. The maddened jail break-out from the home nest has taken many forms, especially in the 1960s, but the fall-out lasted much longer, much, much longer. Then just when you were ready to call a truce, an adult to adult armed truce, ten thousand childhood foam-flecked ocean wave came washing to shore and you had to start over from square one. Then some dark shadow time hovered over the earth and you didn’t get to observe that truce, or anything else. Then you realized, you finally realized, that some hurts, harms, and just plain orneriness could not (the could have test, see) have been resolved this side of heaven’s door. It was just too basic, to primordial to get resolved. Next.

A scrabble. Two young tow-headed boys, fast friend and fierce enemies, walking along the hard-scrabble beach throwing stones, really trying to skip stones to see who can skip their stone the farthest. Eighteen young boys haphazardly “bucking up” sides in a game of baseball, a nineteenth boy left out. One young boy, walking, endlessly walking, in the 1950s fetid sweaty shirt night, passes a certain she’s house afraid to glance in the window for fear of discovery. Another boy, a little older, walking some fugitive streets mulling over this or that endless question, that endless he-she question. A teenage boy, late at night, yet another sultry sticky summer’s night, clad in tee-shirt, Chuck Taylor sneakers (no knock-offs either), black of course, long, un-cuffed chino pants runs dustbowl oval laps in search of glory. Two teenage boys, one clad in tee-shirt, Chuck Taylor sneakers, black of course, and those vagrant black, un-cuffed chinos, the other a variation of the same, sit on the steps of some granite-gray high school and talk of dreams, small dreams but dreams. A teenage boy, the Chuck Taylor-shod boy, does not drive a ’57 Chevy, does not belong to the school great books club where he might find kindred spirits, does not belong to the glee club, does not go to the senior prom, and, emphatically does not go on Saturday night, honey she girl in tow, to watch the “submarine” race down at that eternal foam-flecked wave ocean swells beach. And no amount of later money, no amount of time, early or late, and no amount of desire, ditto, can change that. None. Next

Two teenage boys, one clad in tee-shirt, Chuck Taylor sneakers, black of course in the 1960s night, and those vagrant black, un-cuffed chinos, the other a variation of the same, except no Chucks, some sleek-toed running shoes, sit on the steps of some granite-gray high school and talk of dreams, small dreams, inconsequential, but dreams. Well, maybe no so small dreams but small expectations. But with a fierce desire to get out from under, under hard rocks, and the key is to run, run like there was no mercy in the world. One boy, the Chuck Taylor sneaker-less boy, ran like the demons and had his glory, his fifteen minutes, although he did not know that was what he had had then. He thought he could fuel himself forever on such fumes, and crashed. The other, ran like he was running in cement, just hardening cement, but he had big dreams, big social dreams anyway, and he never did get his fifteen minutes of fame. Secret: he didn’t need them although he desperately wanted them, wanted his hero moment. And, maybe, when the great Mandela made its unseemly turn, that was why that schoolboy-shared memory on granite-gray steps could never sustain ancient times, or should have. Next

An old man, a 2009 old man if you must know although the year only framed the frenzy, an overwrought man, endlessly pacing within a few feet parameter, endlessly speaking of Roy Rodgers and Dale Evans, maybe Trigger too, who knows, as if they were right in front of him, nodded to another man, a little younger but still old, 2009 old, and who rolled his eyes every time a reference was made Roy, Dale, The Cisco Kid, or some Annie Oakley of the older man’s mind. The younger man, who had known the older man in his youth, known him well, although they had not spoken for many years, started to speak about some movie, some movie like The Gladiator just to change the topic. The older man, listened for a few seconds, then spoke of black and white television cowgirls and their fates, maybe Belle Starr, old-time rustlers and desperadoes, and occasionally of black-hatted Hopalong Cassidy. The younger man, sensing an opening, spoke of Neal Cassady. Who? Futile. Totally futile. Next

A young man, brown hair starting to fill out, a brown beard starting to go beyond wisp, sporting slightly scuffed high-top black boots, hell army boots, denim bell-bottomed trousers, army-jacket one size too large, always one size too large, stared across the great hall. The garment “style” just described reflecting a recent discharge from some army, some shooting army, that aimed to join another less rigid army, if less rigid are the right words for the explosion among the young of his generation, the generation of ’68. He eyed, fierce piercing goy blue-eyes that spoke of ancient sadnesses and a little treachery eyed, a young woman on the other side of the room, a dark-haired, pert, petite young woman, who was also present at that same umpteenth helter-skelter workshop to save this or that part of this wicked old world. And she eyed him right back. And they kept eying each other through immediate snows, gentle first kisses, leafy bikes rides, be-bop dead of night drug hazes, east coast hitch-hike trips, massive explorations of the blue-pink great American West night, some misunderstandings, some serious misunderstandings, some rages against the night, some double rages against the day and night, some fitful irresolute break-ups, some infidelities (agreed to, or not), some two-roads-taken, and then, strictly reflecting that young man’s broken-down sense of the world, silence, no more words spoken, in anger or otherwise. Except later, much later, some cosmic message spoken by him speaking of that helter-skelter meeting, the snowy night, the walk, and the “moment” when he first held her firmly, to keep her from falling, without a kiss, but with an understanding that their stars had crossed, and he, they, knew some high adventure was ahead. The unadorned cosmic message was all that was left. What hadn’t he had the sense to have a sense of her and kiss her right there in those immediate falling snows? Next.

No, no next, didn’t you get it, you can’t go home again.

***Where Is Perry Mason When You Need Him-Raymond Burr’s “Blue Gardenia”

Blue Gardenia, starring Anne Baxter, Raymond Burr, Richard Conte, title song sung by Nat King Cole, directed by Fritz Lang, Warner brothers, 1953

Yes, where is Perry Mason when you need him. And not just because one of the lead actors in this film noir is Raymond Burr, who made Perry famous on 1950s black and white television (hey, look it upon Wikipedia if you don’t believe me there really was a time when that is what T.V. viewing looked like. Yah, I know, the dark ages.), but because there is a murder to be solved. His. Or rather the ne’er do well, roué, lady’s man, whatever, character he plays here, Harry Preeble, an artist with a very roving eye.

If there is a murder, then there must be a murderer, right, or in this case a murderess, and here hard-working, get ahead, and just jilted Norah (played by Anne Baxter) is picture perfect for the frame, and a step off to the big house, women’s side. See, she was old boy Harry’s last known date, last know drunken date taken up to his apartment, from the wilds of the Blue Gardenia club, Chinese food, blue gardenias for the ladies, and serious rum drinks a specialty, to see that old chestnut, his etchings. Yes, silly girl, especially with Harry’s reputation. But birthday, jilted, and blue, flowers for your hair or not, would make any girl, hell, any human, a little out of sorts.

Out of sorts or not, Anne Baxter, who is reduced to sharing an apartment with two other fellow female workers (including one incredibly fierce chain-smoking Ann Sothern), is not going to take any fall for one little off night. And here is where hard-hitting reporter Casey at the press (played by Richard Conte) comes in to wrap things up, wrap them up so tight that even the police have to cry “uncle,” let her go, and go off in some corner and pout. That leaves only one thing. If Ann Baxter didn’t do it, then who did? I am not telling. But think back a minute, old Harry had that roving eye and so the number of female suspects could have stretched around the block. It’s too late for Mr. Harry, but remember that old saw about a woman scorned. Well don’t say you were not warned.