September 7, 2009
The loss of a Rollerblade tits
A young girl jumped out of his chest while he sat in a high-speed steamroller going. She is only at the end of the procession began to notice that both breasts in the visitors, cameras and camcorders Latvian prey bulgy daysack Aeneas vignette hogger mind a kit kebab a fornicator, a frappes a kamikaze potty.
VIDEO: Man smashes car into store to steal sex toy | Chronicle-Telegram
BROWNHELM TWP. — The thief who crashed his car through AdultMart here early Wednesday knew exactly what he wanted: He picked up a $300 sex toy, discarded it for a smaller, less expensive model and then drove off — all of which was captured quite clearly on security video.
“Desperate people do desperate things,” said Tracy Holmes, the store’s manager. “At 6 o’clock in the morning when I got here, we had no doors at all.”
However, AdultMart’s security system with multiple cameras captured the thief’s almost every move.
It appears the thief was driving a burgundy or purple Dodge Neon when he crashed through the rear doors, jumped out of his car without putting it in park, grabbed the sex toy and ran over to his still-moving car before driving it through the front doors of the business, Holmes said.
As seen in the video, the paint on the car’s roof is marred, and the license plate is visible on his front dashboard in some of the footage.
Holmes said the thief might have been scared off by the loud alarm, but she also speculated that the man only wanted that particular item as he isn’t seen on the footage looking at anything else. She also said he may have visited the store before because “he knew exactly where he was running.’’
Sheriff’s deputies arrived too late to catch the suspect at the scene, but Capt. John Reiber said deputies will try to crack the case with video enhancement in order to bring up a license plate number. Anyone with information about the suspect can call the detective bureau at (440) 329-3742.
Reiber said the store alarm alerted deputies of the 5:43 a.m. break-in at the business, which is on Cooper Foster Park Road near the Baumhart Road interchange on state Route 2.
The thief caused tens of thousands of dollars in damage, according to a regional supervisor for AdultMart who was supervising temporary repairs. He said the thief rammed his car through six doors and ran over $20,000 of security devices — all for a $150 sex toy.
“Maybe he was embarrassed,” said the regional supervisor, who identified himself only as Mike. “What a perverted idiot.”
Meanwhile, the 5,500-square-foot store was open and doing brisk business Wednesday afternoon despite the repair crews that were on scene. It is part of a Cleveland-based chain of AdultMarts scattered throughout the area and opened about two years ago.
Another AdultMart employee, Marie Woodruff, was still shaking her head in amazement over all the damage.
“If somebody wants something bad enough, they’re going to go to whatever extremes they have to in order to get it,” she said.
Eric Bain-Selbo,"From Lost Cause to Third-and-Long"
From Lost Cause to Third-and-Long: College Football and the Civil Religion of the South
Professor of Religion
Western Kentucky University
Southerners and non-southerners alike have often remarked that the South was born when Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse in 1865. Defeat and surrender gave birth to the idea of the South. Defeat and surrender helped create the "Lost Cause"—that amalgamation of ideas and beliefs, history and legend that defined what the South meant for the years immediately after the war, through the 20th century, and even today. The "cause," of course, was the defense of the Confederacy. Southerners (unless otherwise noted, this generally means white southerners) understood that the war was lost, though still they honored and memorialized the valor of those who fought. They blamed the Yankee victory on the vicious and arbitrary machinations of fate or even laid it in God's hands. But more than simply a military defeat, the Lost Cause refers to an idealistic image of the South and the southern way of life, a hearkening to a golden age before the "War of Northern Aggression" changed everything, and an unshakable conviction that there is something grander about the South and about being a southerner.
The claim about Lee's surrender reminds us that any place—whether the size of a nation, a state, or even a town—is little more than an expanse of land until those living there have an idea of who they are and what that location means to them. This certainly was true of the South. While there obviously was a geographic south in the United States from its very formation, it did not attain much of a regional identity until the mid-19th century. As W.J. Cash, in his influential The Mind of the South, writes:
[I]t was the conflict with the Yankee which really created the concept of the South as something more than a matter of geography, as an object of patriotism, in the minds of the Southerners. Before that fateful engagement opened, they had been patriots, but only to their local communes and to their various states. So little had they been aware of any common bond of affection and pride, indeed, that often the hallmark of their patriotism had been an implacable antagonism toward the states which immediately adjoined their own, a notable example being the ancient feud of North Carolina with Virginia on the one side, and with South Carolina on the other. Nor was this feeling ever to die out. Merely, it would be rapidly balanced by rising loyalty to the new-conceived and greater entity—a loyalty that obviously had superior sanction in interest, and all the fierce vitality bred by resistance to open attack.(1)
Of course, these interstate rivalries in the South still exist today, though they more commonly are manifested in the heated gridiron battles between (for example) the Tennessee Volunteers and the Alabama Crimson Tide or between the Georgia Bulldogs and the Florida Gators. Identification with and the pride in the South still exist today as well, again played out in intersectional meetings between innumerable southern teams and, really, any team not from the South.
In the South, football teams at the state universities have come to represent the people of the state and, more broadly, one's interest in and devotion to the team has come to be part of what it means to be a southerner. College football became part of the southern way of life. "Save some Southerners' unshakable belief that the Civil War was in fact the War of Northern Aggression," football analyst Tony Barnhart writes, "nothing is more ingrained in the Southern psyche than the love of Southern college football—not as a game or a mere diversion, but as a way of life."(2)
Tradition is very important in the South. It is what perpetuated and perpetuates the Lost Cause. It is central to college football. College football in the South includes many traditions across a great number of college campuses. Time-honored customs include tailgating, the marching band, the team walk to the stadium before the game, and much more. "These traditions are the glue that binds the generations of Southern college football fans to one another and keeps them coming back to their beloved campuses year after year," Barnhart notes. "People in the South take these football traditions very, very seriously. To many fans, the renewal of these traditions each fall provides all the physical and emotional comfort of a warm blanket on a cold winter's night."(3) In short, college football has become a tradition in the South alongside and integrated with the other traditions that constitute the Lost Cause and the self-identity of southerners. Take, for example, former Tennessee Governor Winfield Dunn's preface to a book about the history of the University of Tennessee football team. Dunn recounts the legend of the nickname, "The Volunteer State." He recalls the military successes in which Tennesseans took part. This "historical fact," he writes, "perhaps had as much as anything to do with the development of the attitude and tradition of the great people of Tennessee. That attitude and tradition are characteristic of Tennessee football."(4) Thus, he adds that a book about Tennessee football is not just a book about a game. It is "a reminder of tradition, of life, of competition, of struggle, of history. It is Tennessee."(5) Similar statements could be made about Alabama football, Georgia football, and the sport at many other state schools.
This essay outlines how college football came to be such an integral element of southern culture, culminating with three illustrative examples (with accompanying videos) of how southern identity and college football are mixed in important game day rituals. In the end what we see is a glimpse of southern civil religion in all its pomp and glory.
Southern Civil Religion: The Church and the Stadium
While the idea of civil religion certainly existed before the 1960s, sociologist Robert Bellah popularized the term in that decade. In a ground-breaking essay, "Civil Religion in America," Bellah observed that "the civil religion at its best is a genuine apprehension of universal and transcendent religious reality as seen in or, one could almost say, as revealed through the experience of the American people."(6) For Bellah the history and nature of the American people and their country became the means by which the "universal and transcendent religious reality" was known or understood. It was not a substitution of the secular or civil for the religious, but a melding of the two. Consequently, one could talk of the doctrine of America (e.g., freedom, democracy) in religious terms; refer to American national holidays as fitting into a liturgical calendar; make note of important rituals that celebrate the nation and what it stands for, such as the singing of the national anthem (before sporting events no less); recognize certain prominent individuals as national heroes or saints; and talk about central symbols both in terms of what they mean and how they are treated as sacred objects (e.g., the flag).
While Bellah focused on civil religion as the intersection of the civil and the religious, others have argued that the civil (the state or nation) is not only an expression of the ultimate reality but is the ultimate reality itself. Will Herberg, for example, argued that it is not "God" that is the object of devotion for American civil religion, but the "American Way of Life,"(7) which brings unity to the nation and is the referent of Americans' rituals, symbols, and sacred narratives.
Although the South is not a separate nation, it once was. The socio-historical roots of southern civil religion may go back further than the Civil War, but it was that conflict that marked the true genesis of southern civil religion. As historian Kurt O. Berends has observed, many southerners believed the Civil War was a "holy war."(8) As in any holy war, sacrifices are demanded and made. The greatest sacrifice, of course, was one's life. These sacrifices made on behalf of the Confederacy were salvific.(9) Those who died were saved eternally as a consequence. In this sense Christianity fused with regional identity—what it meant to be a Christian was the same as what it meant to be a southerner. Berends concluded, "During the war, southern identity, with its emphasis on honor, became fused with Christian identity. For many southerners, saving the Confederacy became tantamount to saving Christianity."(10) The merging of the institutional religion with a conception (however exaggerated) of a nation and its identity can be the precondition for a civil religion—certainly along the lines envisioned by Bellah. This seems to have been the case in the South. As Charles Reagan Wilson has succinctly put it, "Without the Lost Cause, no civil religion would have existed."(11) Historian Andrew M. Manis, like Bellah, located southern civil religion at the intersection of the civil and the religious. He argued that "[c]ivil religion is 'housed' exclusively in neither the religious nor the political systems. Rather, both appeal to it to help give meaning and integration to the society."(12)
Despite the loss of the war and the trauma of Reconstruction, state-sanctioned segregation, and the Civil Rights era, southerners have long talked about (even bragged about) the southern "way of life." It is an object of fond admiration if not devotion—perhaps in the way described by Herberg. Sociologist John Shelton Reed acknowledges the deep "devotion" that southerners have not only to their region, but even more to their local communities. He writes: "there is still in the South a level of devotion and commitment to local communities unparalleled elsewhere. In the past, this has often been expressed as mindless boosterism: in my Tennessee hometown, we used to brag about how high on the list of nuclear targets we were."(13) He notes that southerners think their region is better than others, and they tend to like one another because of their southernness.(14) Samuel S. Hill, a leading scholar of religion in the South, also seems to lean toward Herberg's understanding of civil religion. Hill emphasizes the identity of culture with ultimate reality. "Southernness," in Hill's estimation, "has been the ultimate social good news. In a descriptive sense, society is God."(15)
Whether we adopt the theory of civil religion of Bellah or Herberg, it is clear, as Wilson notes, that southern culture always has blurred the distinction between the secular and the sacred.(16) Wilson argues that civil religion in the South "has been embodied in the official religion of the churches, but it has also been diffused through southern culture, appearing at such rituals as football games, beauty pageants, and rock and country music concerts."(17) Of course, the key point here is the way that college football plays a role in southern civil religion. Others have noted this. Michael Novak, whose book The Joy of Sports (1967) was an early treatment of the relationship between sports and religion, claims that in "Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi [we easily could add Georgia, Tennessee, and others] . . . college football is a statewide religion; it does celebrate the state and the region."(18) In other words, in college football important southern civil religion rituals are performed. "Somehow, in the South," he adds, "to play a good game is to honor one's state, one's university, the South, and the true spirit of the American nation."(19) The football team of the state university becomes a tangible expression of the strength and character of the university and thus the people of the state (and, perhaps, the region and the country).
College football has been central to the set of rituals in southern civil religion. While more recently challenged by stock car racing and basketball, it remains the king. Anybody moving to the South should know this. As Reed observes, "Newcomers might want to pick a team and follow it. It doesn't greatly matter which one—it's like religion that way, too."(20)
College Football in Southern History
College football began in the northeast (the land of Yankees), dating back perhaps to an 1869 match between Princeton and Rutgers that vaguely resembled what we call the game of football. By the end of the 19th century college football was a great success in the northeast, dominated by what came to be known as the "Ivy League," including, among others, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. By the end of the 19th century in the South, however, college football was just beginning to catch on. While southerners came to the game late, they did so for many of the same reasons.
Michael Oriard has detailed the cultural significance of football (especially college football) better perhaps than anyone. He argues that it attained a special status as a consequence of its differences from any professional or high school teams. Professional teams received national attention, and generally were made up of men from many different parts of the country. High school teams were composed of local boys, but brought little attention to a town or city beyond the county or perhaps the region. "[W]hat college football offered fans that professional and high school football could not," Oriard notes, "was a local team competing in a national arena."(21) This was critical to the development of college football in the South. Teams came to represent not only their states, but the region itself. This became more significant as college football came to prominence in the national media. College football and other sports increasingly made up a large portion of newsreel footage, and sports-related films captivated the public.(22)
"As football teams became public symbols of universities, communities, and entire regions in a hugely publicized national drama," Oriard contends, "intersectional games and postseason bowl games proliferated in the 1920s and 1930s."(23) Nowhere were these intersectional games more important than in the South. The longstanding desire of southerners to prove their worth vis-à-vis the North—especially in the wake of their defeat in the Civil War and the white humiliation of Reconstruction—naturally carried over into gridiron contests. This does not mean necessarily that southerners played any harder than players from Ohio or Massachusetts. Although we can never know the comparable intensity of players from different regions or the comparable fervor of fans from different regions, the history of the South and its particular condition (poor and illiterate beyond the national average, and thus impassioned by a desire to prove themselves to their northern neighbors) suggest that fans and players in other sections very likely experienced football differently.
Oriard comments that the "1920s and 1930s marked the age of intersectional football, when distinct football regions emerged, and competitions between their representatives each season mapped a shifting geographical balance of power."(24) This change in regional fortunes was from the Northeast to the Midwest and the South. While we are not concerned here with the reasons for the midwestern shift, we already have touched on historical and cultural elements in the South that might explain a rise to prominence in the world of college football.
Football writer Keith Dunnavant observes that in "the South of the early twentieth century, the Civil War was still more of a closely held grudge than a page ripped from the history books."(25) The game of football, then, imported from the North, was played—especially in intersectional contests—with that grudge lurking somewhere in the minds of players and spectators. Oriard argues that for a "broad cross-section of the entire South in the 1920s . . . triumphs of southern football teams validated the region against the scorn of outsiders."(26) In his account of Alabama football in the 1950s, Tom Stoddard writes that the "game was a powerful source of pride and self-esteem for individuals, families, towns, cities, and the entire state. The mythic connections to the Lost Cause of the Confederacy were part of the reason."(27) The degree of pride that southerners took and still take in regard to their college football team also is a function of how they saw themselves and see themselves through northern (meaning now anywhere outside the South) eyes. Stoddard observes: "All they [southerners] knew about the North was that people there looked down upon them and thought of them as bigoted, pellagra-ridden, and lazy. What better way to prove otherwise than to kick ass in a hard, physical game."(28)
In addition to the almost visceral reaction that southern fans may have had or continue to have about their football programs (especially in regard to their games with non-southern teams), it is important to remember that southern college football teams are connected to actual universities. The universities themselves are sources of identification and pride for many southerners. As southern universities and education in general began to take on a more prominent role in the South in the 20th century, the football team became a symbol of those efforts. In a strange reversal, however, the success of football teams also came to support or validate the educational efforts of the institutions. "Certain college presidents," Oriard notes, "openly sought to build their institutions through the publicity won by a successful football team."(29)
It was not simply the fans who contributed to the growing fervor surrounding college football and its unique relationship with southern history and culture. The media played a significant role in affirming and exploiting zeal, too. Oriard's work details the role of the media nicely. "Southerners likely competed with no more intensity than players elsewhere," he writes, "but sportswriters both within and outside the region preferred to set them apart, and to attribute their fervor to the undying spirit of the Old South."(30) Sportswriters above and below the Mason-Dixon Line used southern history and the relationship of the South to the North to frame key intersectional matchups. "Every intersectional contest pitting the South against the East or Midwest became a small chapter in the developing narrative of southern football," Oriard argues. "Along the way, intersectional contests pitting the South against 'the East' and 'Midwest' came to an end, becoming instead the South versus the North in reenactments of the Civil War."(31) He adds: "The identification of Dixie running backs with DeForest's raiders or Pickett's cavalry at Gettysburg began with southern sportswriters but was embraced even more enthusiastically by their Yankee colleagues, as part of the entire nation's romance with the legendary Old South and Lost Cause."(32) Thus, "[l]inking southern football to the myths of the Old South and the Lost Cause began in Dixie . . . but it was taken up everywhere."(33)
Historian Patrick B. Miller identifies several ways in which intercollegiate athletics (most especially football) became inextricably linked with southern history and culture. For example, the idea of honor has played a prominent role in defining the region. Honor also shaped the rise of intercollegiate athletics in the South in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. "Rough and romantic, like the martial valor representing the legend of the Lost Cause, athletic exploits thus could give young men a sense of exhilarating contest and conflict in battle," Miller argues. "This was a shadow perhaps of what their fathers might have recalled from their exploits at Vicksburg and Gettysburg, but it was a deeper experience than marching on a parade ground might ever provide."(34) The honor that student athletes defended included personal honor and the honor of the South or the Confederacy. But the players also defended the honor of the institution for which they played. "The care and tending of an individual's honor many southerners had long understood," Miller claims. "[T]hrough athletics, some believed, the prestige of an entire institution might similarly need to be protected."(35) Cash writes, for example, that even into the 1930s there "were still plenty of Southern colleges whose only claim to respect was a football team."(36) The educational institution, of course, often has represented the state and the state has represented the region to some extent, so all these powerful allegiances tended to be and perhaps still are bound together.
Football was a sport that naturally could draw upon the regional emphasis on honor. But how it did so may have distinguished it from other sports. Football, Miller writes, "stood as a means of expressing or even inculcating the qualities of strength, endurance, and valor deemed highly honorable by generations of cultural commentators."(37) As such, the game "possessed enormous metaphorical value concerning the rites of passage toward southern manhood, and it clearly corresponded with the region's martial culture and tradition of blood sport."(38) On this latter point, Oriard agrees.(39) He argues that football was American society's general response to living conditions that were less strenuous and included more leisure time. In such a situation there arose the concern that boys would grow up "soft" or even "effeminate."(40) This anxiety was alleviated by their participation in the rough and tumble world of football. While concern about manliness may have played some role in southerners' participation in the sport, the region's history and cultural attitudes suggest there was more going on than this gendered anxiety thesis suggests.
While the athletes in intercollegiate sports in the South had especially powerful motivations for playing—including performing to the point of serious injury or even death—spectators (especially students) also became participants in what Miller describes as a sacrament. He writes:
[A] myriad of rituals and symbols reinforced for many southerners the intensity of the intercollegiate sporting experience. The anthems and totems of college athletic culture in the South took a variety of forms and projected a range of images . . . The iconography of college sport, manifest in the waving of flags, the orchestration of chants and cheers, and the singing of inspirational songs, formed circles of significance around the actual sites of races or games, actively involving fans as well as participants in the intercollegiate sporting spectacle. The sights and sounds of boisterous athletics went beyond competitive exchange on the diamond or gridiron; those who watched became immersed in something like a sacrament against which a book, a lecture, or a laboratory experiment—among other academic offerings—often seemed to pale in comparison.(41)
As a sacrament the intercollegiate sporting event became an important communal event. "Distinctive colors, nicknames, mascots, songs, and cheers intensified the experience of a Saturday afternoon," Miller observes. "Beyond the contest itself, even before the era when homecoming extravaganzas and precision marching bands added to the appeal of sporting events, other rituals contributed to an exciting atmosphere. From an early date, college baseball and football games in the South frequently became extended social occasions, offering to some a splendid opportunity for courtship, to others a fine setting for displays of prowess with a bottle."(42) These social occasions built upon preexisting customs in southern culture. Loran Smith, a southern writer with a long-time connection to the athletic department at the University of Georgia, remembers people coming to Athens for the day with picnic baskets to feast before the game. He notes that this likely drew upon the popular practice of "dinner on the green," or large communal feasts that often took place after church on a Sunday afternoon. The picnics that Smith witnessed are now massive and complex tailgating scenes, with all of their feasting and courting and drinking. In other words, tailgating may very well be a case of an activity that stereotypically is associated with a religious occasion having been adapted to an increasingly popular "secular" event.
Historian Ted Ownby argues that sports were not central to southern manhood through most of the 20th century. In contrast to Oriard's claims about football and ideas of manhood in American culture (especially during the late 19th and early 20th centuries), Ownby claims that most southerners did not conceive of football as important in relation to manhood and really did not identify manhood with any particular sport. "[I]t becomes almost ridiculous," he argues, "to think about sports as playing a significant role in the works that analyzed southern identity at mid-century [1900s]."(43) While acknowledging that football might tap into traditional southern attitudes about honor, Ownby still insists: "it seems clear that modern sports offer white southern men a sense of regional identity that has little to do with southern history."(44)
Ownby's conclusion (at least as it applies to football) rightly cautions us to be wary of making broad generalizations about sport or football in southern history and culture. The most significant southern writers rarely if ever used football as a setting or plot element. William Faulkner did not (The Hamlet being one exception).(45) James Agee's literary ethnography Let Us Now Praise Famous Men is a powerful account of life in rural 1930s Alabama. This was one of the great decades for Crimson Tide football, yet the team is never mentioned in the approximately 400-page text. Football does play a more significant role in Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men (1946); Governor Willie Stark's son is a star on the state university's team. Of course, the socioeconomic status of the characters in Warren's novel are significantly different from that of both the many characters in Faulkner's tales of the decaying South and Agee's poor sharecroppers of the 1930s. Wayne Flynt, a leading scholar of Alabama history, argues that in Alabama (and this most likely applies throughout the South) "[f]anaticism for the sport depended on high concentrations of alumni who were college football fans. Such concentrations presumed lots of white-collar jobs and college graduates."(46) The fact of the matter is that there just were not that many people like that throughout much of the twentieth century. Ownby, then, may very well be correct in his assessment that sports or football had little impact on the lives of many if not most southern men. Yet, Oriard and others may very well be correct in arguing that for some southerners—particularly the increasing number of whites able to attend college in the 20th century, and who would have the wealth and leisure to support and enjoy contemporary sports—football became central to how they understood themselves, their history, and their culture.
Not everyone in the South was thrilled about the increasing popularity of college football in the region. Many leaders of the religious establishment railed against the game and the wild behavior of fans. In particular, the violence on the gridiron and the drinking of the spectators ran counter to the sensibilities of the devout. After World War I, however, much of the evangelical opposition to the sport diminished.(47)
However broad or narrow the appeal of college football was to southerners in the late 19th century and the first several decades of the 20th century, there is no doubt that it became a regional obsession in the second half of the 20th century and perhaps for many of the same reasons that it had caught on in the first place. Twentieth-century southerners experienced a great deal of anxiety. Entering that century southerners still felt the sting of the defeat from the Civil War and the trauma of Reconstruction. Poverty, infant mortality, low life expectancy, and illiteracy left them with a distinct feeling of inferiority with regard to other regions of the country. The encroachment of industrialization and commercialization from the North, embodied in part in the New South movement, was perceived by some southerners as a threat to their way of life and gave rise to the reactionary southern agrarian movement. By mid century, the South's oppressed and politically silent and ignored segment of the population (African Americans) refused en masse to be oppressed, silent, and ignored any longer. Thus, whites' anxiety increased exponentially as the stable, reassuring hierarchy of race began to crumble and white manhood was seemingly challenged.
As the civil rights era got underway, whites responded in part with a resurgence of Confederate and Lost Cause symbolism.(48) Many of them thought federal intervention to end segregation was another Yankee invasion. Major college football teams at the time were all white, and some remained so even until the 1970s. As James Meredith integrated the University of Mississippi in 1962, Governor Ross Barnett (an alumnus of Ole Miss) offered a strident defense of segregation in a speech titled "I Love Mississippi"—delivered to fans just before an Ole Miss football game. Because the state college football teams were so integral to the identity of white southerners, integration of teams was a matter of central concern. Segregation on the major college football teams was a way of reaffirming racial hierarchy and a white southern worldview.
The pressures to end segregation were great—both from other regions of the country as well as from blacks and supportive whites in the South. Southern football programs found it increasingly difficult to compete with integrated teams from other regions. Intersectional games were nearly impossible for many teams, given the proscription against playing integrated games. College bowl games—and the desire of southerners to see their teams take part—played a significant role in getting many southerners to overcome their racism in order to participate in these important college football events. As historian Charles H. Martin observes, "the triumph of pragmatism and self-interest that integrated bowl games embodied reflected a strong desire by most white southerners to participate fully in the national sporting culture, rather than maintain an extreme regional identity and risk further marginalization and isolation. Thus each year on the sacred day of January 1 [when many bowl games are played], if not necessarily on the other 364 days, Dixie had become 'Americanized.'"(49)
Change was sometimes slow. With the waning of the civil rights movement, racial tensions continued to surface in frightening ways. Violence still erupted. Sometimes racial issues were simply ignored—both in the broader society and in the world of college football. In Russ Bebb's book The Big Orange: A Story of Tennessee Football, published in 1973, hardly a word is mentioned about the segregation and integration of the team. It is almost as if segregation never happened and integration was always the norm.
If change was slow in coming, it often was dramatic. The renowned southern historian C. Vann Woodward writes "Not overnight, to be sure, and not without exceptions and lingering relics of the past, but with remarkable speed, the bonds of the rigid, age-hardened code of racial 'etiquette' signifying white supremacy and black inferiority fell away."(50) And perhaps nowhere was this more dramatic than on sports teams. Certainly racism still existed and for a long time blacks found it difficult to win certain starting positions (e.g., quarterback) or become head coaches. Condredge Holloway was the first black starting quarterback in the Southeastern Conference, leading the Tennessee Volunteers in 1972—several years after integration of SEC football had begun. And it was not until 2004 that there was a black head coach in the SEC—when former Alabama star Sylvester Croom took over at Mississippi State. Though these changes certainly did not occur as swiftly and justly as anyone would wish, the inherent meritocracy of sports still provided an important vehicle for blacks in the South to attain some degree of equality and acceptance in the mainstream culture.
Charles Reagan Wilson notes that "[s]tudies of southern mythology have proliferated in recent years, but few of them deal with the modern period and none with the importance of sports to the regional psyche."(51) He adds that sports (especially football) "are providing images for a new pantheon of southern heroes. Sports figures, perhaps even more than musicians, are becoming prime icons of the modern South, the way the Confederate veterans were heroes in the late nineteenth century."(52) But unlike Confederate veterans, blacks and white fans alike—regardless of the color of the hero's skin—venerate today's sports heroes. Wilson argues that the 1970s and 1980s saw a revitalization of southern culture, one that identified with the past (the Lost Cause) but embraced a more inclusive future. This revitalization could be seen in sporting life "and especially in college football. The god of southern football is a tribal god, a god of the Chosen People. When [an integrated] Alabama played Notre Dame in the 1970s, southerners from many states waved the flag and rooted for their legions against the Yankees."(53)
Certainly divisions between whites and blacks in the South remain today, and thus we still may speak of two civil religions. At the same time, much has changed to bring the two races together. While college football has been an important part of the culture and life of historically black colleges and universities throughout the twentieth century, college football at the major state institutions (receiving greater state funding and attention) throughout much of the century could only be described as an element of white southern civil religion. However, it increasingly has become an integral part of black southern civil religion as well. In other words, it perhaps has led to a broader southern civil religion that transcends racial divisions.
Football, Music, and Southern Civil Religion
The point of this essay has been to suggest how college football in the South was woven closely into the very fabric of the culture and its history—at least for many southerners.(54) What we get in the end is an understanding of a southern civil religion that has college football as a key component. Of course, we simply could have experienced the phenomenon by attending a game on an autumn Saturday in the South. Here are three examples, highlighting the ways that music and ritual bring various elements of the southern civil religion together for fans in powerful moments of communal worship.
First, there is the song "Rocky Top" at the University of Tennessee. No song is perhaps more associated with a school or played so often as is "Rocky Top"—a 1967 country classic most notably performed by the Osborne Brothers. While it may not be the only song played on game day, it nevertheless is the centerpiece of the music for the day.
In this video, one can see and hear how the Tennessee marching band's pre-game performance in September 2005 attached fans to a series of local, regional, and national motifs. The video begins with the playing of the alma maters of Tennessee and their opponent, the University of Alabama at Birmingham. These songs stress the identification of the fans with their particular institutions. The alma maters are followed by "Rocky Top" (accompanied by the singing of the fans). After "Rocky Top" comes "Stars and Stripes Forever," a song of national importance that shifts the focus from the more limited civil religion of the South to the greater civil religion of the nation. Finally, there is the connection of the fans to their school and state with the performance of the Tennessee fight song as the team comes running through the "T" formed by the band. One can sense the fervor of the fans through the roar of the crowd, and this reaction should not be surprising given the excitement about the beginning of the game and how the band draws on powerful civil religion themes.
The lyrics to "Rocky Top" emphasize a kind of upcountry earthiness as well as the simplicity and goodness of life on a mythical mountain in East Tennessee. For example:
Wish that I was on ol' Rocky Top,
down in the Tennessee hills;
Ain't no smoggy smoke on Rocky Top;
Ain't no telephone bills;
Once I had a girl on Rocky Top;
Half bear, other half cat;
Wild as a mink, but sweet as soda pop,
I still dream about that . . .
Once two strangers climbed ol' Rocky Top,
Lookin' for a moonshine still;
Strangers ain't come down from Rocky Top;
Reckon they never will;
Corn won't grow at all on Rocky Top;
Dirt's too rocky by far;
That's why all the folks on Rocky Top
get their corn from a jar . . .
The final verse even compares the humble rural life on Rocky Top to the very different life in America's cities—perhaps Yankee cities in particular.
I've had years of cramped-up city life
Trapped like a duck in a pen;
All I know is it's a pity life
Can't be simple again.
"Rocky Top" is played dozens of times during a Tennessee football game—especially after a score or critical defensive play. The result often is an ecstatic frenzy among the fans. While the verses of the song are rarely sung, fans enthusiastically join in with the chorus:
Rocky Top, you'll always be
home sweet home to me;
Good ol' Rocky Top;
Rocky Top, Tennessee;
Rocky Top, Tennessee.
Here we have the typical defiance of the South and pride in its unique characteristics, affirmed in the communal ritual of the southern college football game, and expressed by nearly 100,000 fans singing in unison about who they are. They also sing about the team that represents their beliefs, their school, their state, and their region.
Next, there is the medley of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Dixie" played at Ole Miss. The irony, of course, is that a Yankee hymn like the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" would even be a part of an Ole Miss marching band medley. However, the song's religious ("Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord") and militaristic ("He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword") themes fit well with the southern ethos. "Dixie," on the other hand, is perhaps the most well-known musical celebration of the southern past.
O, I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.
Combined, these two songs stir the hearts and minds of fans in Oxford, Mississippi—home of William Faulkner, the Ole Miss Rebels, and perhaps the one place in the South that most embraces and celebrates southern identity.
A particularly moving moment occurs at the end of a game. In this video, we see such a moment after a hard-fought Mississippi loss to Alabama in the fall of 2005. While some fans leave the stadium, a large portion (particularly the student section near where the band sits) stays for a final playing of the medley. It begins slowly, mournfully (particularly appropriate after a tough loss)—the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Dixie" gently mixing together. One feels a sense of longing— longing for a past more ideal than real. Midway through, the tempo picks up, hands are clapping, and the parts that include the fans singing (particularly the chorus of "Dixie") are louder and more boisterous. This all culminates with a yell, a hope, a declaration of defiance rising from all—"The South will rise again!"
Finally, we have the southern anthem "Sweet Home Alabama"—the Lynyrd Skynyrd classic played at Alabama Crimson Tide games. To understand the song, one first has to remember the historical and cultural context in which it was composed. In 1970, Neil Young recorded a powerful condemnation of southern bigotry and violence: "Southern Man." The song reminds southerners of their vicious past and their present debt to African Americans:
I saw cotton
and I saw black
Tall white mansions
and little shacks.
when will you
pay them back?
I heard screamin'
and bullwhips cracking
How long? How long?
In addition, the song points out the white South's deep hypocrisy; its brutal treatment of blacks runs counter to biblical ethics.
better keep your head
what your good book said
gonna come at last
Now your crosses
are burning fast
Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" (first recorded in 1974) was partly a response to Young's diatribe (as well as his later song "Alabama"), but also was a response to the harsh (even if deserved) media attention on the South in the 1960s and early 1970s. In some ways the song served as an apology for the South, an insistence that good people were trying to do the best they could.
In Birmingham they love the governor [controversial segregationist George Wallace]
Now we all did what we could do
The song also points out an apparent contradiction of those outside the South, those in Washington, D.C., who condemn the immoral South, but regularly engage in unethical behavior.
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
But mostly the song strikes a chord of defiance, and, in stereotypical fashion, seeks to defend the honor of the South.
Well I heard Mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ol' Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A southern man don't need him around anyhow
"Sweet Home Alabama" is heard often at Crimson Tide football games. Booming through the public address system at Bryant-Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa, tens of thousands of Alabama fans roar their approval when the song is played. In the middle of the chorus the crowd declares its loyalty not only to the beloved Crimson Tide but also to its state and culture—inserting "Roll Tide Roll" into breaks in the chorus.
Sweet home Alabama;
[ROLL TIDE ROLL]
Where skies are so blue;
Sweet home Alabama;
[ROLL TIDE ROLL]
Lord I'm coming home to you.
With all its foibles, the song indicates, the South is still a good place to be. And, just like the Crimson Tide, it can achieve greatness.
Southern civil religion is celebrated in music—hymns and southern rock, country and traditional/folk. It is church and community—and food, lots of food. It has a history of courage, stubbornness, honor, and shame. It is the Lost Cause—sometimes racist, despicable, and divisive. For example, the playing of "Dixie" and the chanting of "The South will rise again" continues to be controversial and divisive among students, faculty, and fans at Ole Miss. At the same time, southern civil religion—emerging out of the Lost Cause but not restricted to it—provides a pride in southern identity that can be uplifting and uniting once stripped of its offensive (Confederate) trappings. And woven into this civil religion is college football, drawing from and adding to these elements and often holding them all together at once on beautiful autumn Saturdays in towns and cities all across the South.(55)
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Abbot and Costello: Quién está en primera: ('Who's on First?' en espanol)
Humor & Komedie
Door: Mrjyn [Nu online!]
Omschrijving: Quién está en primera, en los años '40.Abbott: Bueno Costello, voy para Nueva York contigo. El manager de los Yankees me dio un trabajo como entrenador en tanto tú estés en el equipo. Costello: Bien Abbott, si tú eres el entrenador, debes conocer a todos los jugadores. Abbott: Ciertamente. Costello: Es que yo nunca me supe los jugadores. Tendrás que decirme sus nombres, y entonces yo sabré quien está jugando en el equipo. Abbott: Te diré sus nombres, pero tienes que saber que me parece que sus nombres son bastante peculiares. Costello: ¿Quieres decir que tienen nombres graciosos? Abbott: Nombres extraños, nombres de mascotas... como Dizzy Dean... Costello: Su hermano Daffy. Abbott: Daffy Dean. Costello: Y su primo francés. Abbott: ¿Francés? Costello: Goofe Abbott: Goofe Dean. Bien, mira, Quién está en primera, Cuál en segunda y No Lo Se en tercera... Costello: Eso es lo que quiero saber. Abbott: Dije que Quien está en primera, Cual está en segunda y No Lo Se en tercera. Costello: ¿Tú eres el manager? Abbott: Si. Costello: ¿Vas a ser el entrenador, también? Abbott: Si. Costello: Y no sabes los nombres de los tipos. Abbott: Bueno, si. Costello: Bien, entonces ¿quién está en primera? Abbott: Si. Costello: Quiero decir, el nombre del tipo. Abbott: Quién. Costello: El tipo en primera base. Abbott: Quién. Costello: El jugador... Abbott: Quién está en primera Costello: Te estoy preguntando que quién está en primera. Abbott: Ese es el nombre del tipo. Costello: ¿El nombre de quién? Abbott: Si. Costello: Bien, vamos, dímelo. Abbott: Eso es. Costello: ¿De quién? Abbott: Si. Pausa Buck Privates, de 1940William Abbott nació el 2 de Octubre de 1895 y comenzó trabajando en carnavales mientras aún era un niño. Echado de la escuela en 1909, llegó a trabajar como asistente del tesorero del Casino Theater de Brooklyn, y manager o tesorero de otros teatros. Luego se dedicó al espectáculo, pero desde el otro lado de la tarima, secundando a cómicos como Harry Steepe y Harry Evanson antes de sustituir al compañero enfermo de Lou Costello en un acto en el año 1931. A lo largo de los años '30 la pareja se fue asentando en numerosos trabajos en vodeviles, teatros, burlesque, pero fue gracias al programa radial "The Kate Smith Hour" que lograron fama a nivel nacional. La Universal Pictures se vio atraída a ofrecerles un contrato bastante lucrativo para un filme, que se tituló A NIGHT IN THE TROPICS (estrenado en 1940). Al año siguiente la película BUCK PRIVATES con Abbott y Costello y las Hermanas Andrews recaudó 10 millones de dólares, todo un record para el estudio. Durante los años '40 fueron los cómicos más populares del país y del mundo, teniendo un show radial (emitido por ABC entre 1941 y 1946 y por NBC hasta 1949). Usualmente bajo contrato de Universal (aunque Abbott y Costello llegaron a hacer filmes para otras productoras como la MGM), comenzaron con filmes originales (WHO DONE IT? de 1942 fue probablemente su mejor comedia y aún hoy es entretenida) aunque pronto se vieron enfrentados a los monstruos clásicos en ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN (Abbott y Costello Contra los Fantasmas-1948), en la que el dúo fue alineado con titanes del terror como Bela Lugosi y Lon Chaney Jr. Más tarde esta vertiente fue explotada al máximo, con títulos como ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET THE KILLER, BORIS KARLOFF (1949), ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET THE INVISIBLE MAN (1951), ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET DR. JEKYLL & MR. HYDE (1953) y ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET THE MUMMY (1955). Resentidos por problemas laborales y atacados por la Dirección Impositiva, en bancarrota, Abbott y Costello se separaron en 1957. Luego del fallecimiento de Costello en 1959, Abbott intentó un regreso en los años sesenta, junto a Candy Candido, pero con su nuevo compañero no llegó a destacarse en lo más mínimo. En 1966 prestó su voz para los Abbott y Costello de los dibujos animados. Falleció en 1974. Costello: Bueno. ¿Tú tienes un primera base? Abbott: Ciertamente. Costello: ¿Quién juega en primera? Abbott: Seguro. Costello: ¿Cuando tu pagas los sueldos cada mes, quién recibe el dinero del primera base? Abbott: Cada dólar. Costello: Todo lo que trato de saber es el nombre del tipo de primera base. Abbott: Quién. Costello: El tipo que tiene... Abbott: Eso es. Costello: Quién tiene el dinero... Abbott: Claro, cada dólar. Algunas veces viene su esposa y ella recibe el dinero. Costello: ¿La esposa de quién? Abbott: Si. Pausa Abbott: ¿Qué es lo que está mal? Costello: Mira, todo lo que quiero saber es cuando tu contrataste al primera base, ¿cómo escribió su nombre? Abbott: Quién. Costello: El tipo. Abbott: Quién. Costello: Como es que firma... Abbott: Así es como firma. Costello: ¿Quién? Abbott: Si. Pausa Abbott y Costello y una de sus mejores películasLouis Francis Cristillo vino al mundo el 6 de marzo de 1906 en Paterson, Nueva Jersey. Luego de finalizar su educación comenzó a trabajar como carpintero en los estudios MGM y Warner Bros, antes de conseguir algunos trabajos como doble (stuntman) y comediante de vodevil. En 1931, luego de que su compañero se viera enfermo, uno de los encargados del teatro, Bud Abbott, lo suplantó, con tanta suerte que inició una de las parejas cómicas multimediática más famosas del siglo XX, llegando al cine en A NIGHT IN THE TROPICS (1940), la primera y última película en la cual Abbott y Costello tuvieron roles secundarios. Su vida no fue tan cómica como sus películas y los problemas de salud tuvieron mucho que ver con sus problemas fiscales. Durante los años '40 dieron de comer a miles de empleados de Universal, pero diez años después, olvidados, se vieron relegados al retiro y al fracaso. En 1957, luego de filmar casi una cuarentena de películas, Abbott y Costello se separaron. Costello llegó a filmar una película solo (THE 30 FOOT BRIDE OF CANDY ROCK de 1959) y a aparecer en algunos shows televisivos antes de fallecer de manera prematura en 1959. Costello: Estoy tratando de averiguar cual es el nombre del primera base. Abbott: No. Cuál está en segunda base. Costello: No te pregunté quien está en segunda base. Abbott: Quién está en primera. Costello: ¡Una base por vez! Abbott: Bien, no cambiemos los jugadores. Costello: ¡No estoy cambiando a nadie! Abbott: Tómalo con calma, amigo. Costello: Solo te estoy preguntando quién es el tipo en primera base. Abbott: Eso es. Costello: Ok. Abbott: Perfecto. Pausa Costello: ¿Cuál es el nombre del tipo de primera base? Abbott: No. Cuál está en segunda. Costello: No estoy preguntando quién está en primera. Abbott: Quién está en primera. Costello: No lo sé. Abbott: Él está en tercera, no estamos hablando sobre él. Costello: Ahora, ¿como hice para llegar a tercera base? Abbott: Tú mencionaste su nombre. Costello: Si yo mencioné el nombre del tercera base, ¿quién dije que está jugando en tercera? Abbott: No. Quién está en primera. Costello: ¿Cuál base? Abbott: Cuál está en segunda. Costello: No lo sé. Abbott: Él está en tercera. Costello: ¡Ahí vamos, a tercera otra vez! Pausa La combinación de los por entonces sumamente populares Abbott y Costello, con los fabulosos "generadores de dinero" de la Universal, que fueron sus monstruos, dio lugar a una de las mejores comedias del dúo y el canto de cisne nostálgico de varios personajes tenebrosos. El filme ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN (Abbott y Costello Contra los Fantasmas-1948) fue todo lo exitoso que el estudio esperaba y además fue divertido. Por primera vez, luego de más de quince años, Bela Lugosi regresó a su papel de Drácula en un filme de la Universal. La trama nos muestra al Conde que ha traído a la Florida el cuerpo del Monstruo de Frankenstein (interpretado por tercera vez consecutiva por Glenn Strange), con el objetivo de hallar un cerebro normal, que le quite ese aspecto monstruoso. Pero su elección es errónea cuando espera que dentro del cráneo de Costello haya un cerebro "normal". Otro personaje que ayuda al dúo es el de Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) quien durante las noches de luna llena se convierte en el hirsuto hombre lobo. La película también tiene una narración del por entonces ascendente Vincent Price, mucho antes de verse relacionado más comprometidamente con el cine de horror. Costello: Quédate en tercera base y no te vayas de ahí. Abbott: Perfecto. ¿Qué es lo que quieres saber? Costello: Ahora, ¿quién está jugando en tercera base? Abbott: ¿Porqué insistes en poner a Quién en tercera base? Costello: ¿A cuál estoy poniendo en tercera? Abbott: No. Cuál está en segunda. Costello: Tú no sabes quien está en segunda. Abbott: Quién está en primera. Costello: No lo sé. Abbott: ¡Tercera base! Pausa Costello: ¿Tú tienes jardinero? Abbott: Seguro. Costello: ¿El nombre del jardinero izquierdo? Abbott: Porqué. Costello: Solo porque te lo pregunto. Abbott: Bien, creo que ya te lo dije. Costello: Entonces dime quién está jugando como jardinero izquierdo. Abbott: Quién está en primera. Costello: Yo no... salgo del campo!!!! Quiero saber cuál es el nombre del jardinero izquierdo. Abbott: No. Cuál está en segunda. Costello: No te pregunté quién está en segunda. Abbott: ¡Quién está en primera! Costello: No lo sé. Ambos: ¡Tercera base! Pausa Costello: ¿El nombre del jardinero? Abbott: Porqué. Costello: ¡Por eso! Abbott: Oh, él es el jardinero central. Pausa Costello: Mira, ¿tú tienes un pitcher en este equipo? Abbott: Seguro. Costello: ¿El nombre del tipo? Abbott: Mañana. Costello: ¿No me lo puedes decir hoy? Abbott: Te lo estoy diciendo. Costello: Entonces adelante. Abbott: ¡Mañana! Costello: ¿En qué momento? Abbott: ¿En qué momento qué? Costello: ¿En qué momento de mañana me vas a decir el nombre de quién es pitcher? Abbott: Ahora escucha. Quién no es el pitcher. Costello: ¡¡¡Te romperé el brazo si me dices "quién está en primera"!!! Quiero saber cuál es el nombre del pitcher. Abbott: Cuál está en segunda. Costello: No lo sé. Ambos: ¡Tercera base! Pausa Su serie televisiva incorporó la mayoría de sus rutinas cómicas (por no decir todas) y se emitió a través de 52 episodios a lo largo del año 1952. El reparto incluyó a Sid Fields, como el Sr. Fields, el casero, calvo y con un cigarro permanente en su boca; Hillary Brooke como Hillary, amiga y vecina de Lou y quien más lo apañaba; Joe Besser como Stinky, un extraño hombre vestido como un niño que gustaba de pellizcar el brazo de Lou de vez en cuando (Joe sería más tarde el quinto integrante de Los Tres Chiflados, junto a Moe y Larry); Gordon El show televisivo de Abbott y CostelloJones como Mike el Policía, siempre atento al cumplimiento de la moral y la ley en el vecindario y Joe Kirk (quien en la vida real era cuñado de Costello) como el Sr. Bacigalupe, dueño de un restaurante. Los primeros 26 episodios fueron producidos por Alex Gottlieb y contaron en el reparto además a Milt Bronson y Joan Shawlee. A partir de los siguientes episodios el productor fue Pat Costello (hermano de Lou). Jean Yarborough, director de muchos filmes de Universal Pictures durante los años '40, dirigió todos los episodios. Usualmente cada episodio mostraba alguna ocurrencia de Abbott para ganar algún dinero (en tal sentido los personajes mostraban que sus vidas no eran fáciles) con el cual pagar la renta, aunque el principal perjudicado era siempre Costello. Estas tramas servían para exhibir las rutinas vodevilescas que por años habían repetido Abbott y Costello en medios radiales, tal como su famosa "¿Quién está en Primera?". Costello: ¿Tienen un catcher? Abbott: Ciertamente. Costello: ¿El nombre del catcher? Abbott: Hoy. Costello: Hoy, y mañana es el pitcher. Abbott: Ahora tu lo sabes. Costello: Todo lo que tengo son un par de días del equipo. Pausa Costello: Tu sabés, yo soy catcher también. Abbott: Eso me dicen. Costello: Estoy detrás de la base, Mañana es el pitcher en mi equipo y un gran lanzador. Ahora, lanza la pelota. Cuando él me tira la bola, yo, siendo un gran catcher, voy a arrojar al tipo en primera. Entonces, ¿Yo tomo la pelota y se la lanzo a quién? Abbott: Esta es la primera vez que dices algo acertado. Costello: ¡No se de que cuernos estoy hablando! Pausa Abbott: Eso es todo lo que tienes que hacer. Costello: Es lanzar la bola a primera base. Abbott: ¡Si! Costello: Ahora, ¡quién la agarra? Abbott: Naturalmente. Pausa Costello: Mira, si yo lanzo la bola a primera base, alguien la debe agarrar. ¿Ahora quién es? Abbott: Naturalmente. Costello: ¿Quién? Abbott: Naturalmente. Costello: ¿Naturalmente? Abbott: Naturalmente. Costello: Entonces yo tomo la bola y la lanzo naturalmente. Abbott: No. Tu tomas la bola y la tiras a Quién. Costello: Naturalmente. Abbott: Esa es la diferencia. Costello: Eso es lo que digo. Abbott: Tu no estás diciéndolo. Costello: Le lanzo la bola a Naturalmente. Abbott: Tu se la lanzas a Quién. Costello: Naturalmente. Abbott: Eso es. Costello: ¡Eso es lo que digo! Abbott: Tú me preguntaste. Costello: ¿A quién le lanzo la bola? Abbott: Naturalmente. Costello: Ahora tu pregúntame. Abbott: ¿Tu lanzas la bola a Quién? Costello: Naturalmente. Abbott: Eso es. Costello: ¡Lo mismo que tú! Yo le lanzo la bola a Quién. Quién sea suelta la bola y el tipo corre a segunda. Quién lanza la bola a Cuál. Cuál se la lanza a No Lo Sé. No Lo Sé lanza la bola a Mañana, triple anotación. Otro tipo lanza una bola larga a Por Eso. ¿POR QUÉ? ¡NO LO SÉ! ¡Él está en tercera y me importa un comino! Abbott: ¿Qué? Costello: ¡Dije que me importa un comino! Abbott: Oh, este es nuestro frenador.
Abbot and Costello: Quién está en primera: ('Who's on First?' en espanol) - Humor & Komedie - 123video
Are You Jerry Lee Lewis? Overheated distilleries moved absentee shins, penetrated infrasonic creameries of fire...
overheated distilleries moved absentee shins, penetrated infrasonic creameries of fire during divinity's effete,
Battle-planed, plenitude and excremental, orotund fixating; an alcohol-island of Seagram-casement, condensed and burgeoning: unholiness-Fried kidskin.JERRY LEE LEWIS suffered the demarcating fireball-camps' mass showers outside; insipid defense, anticked and Leviathan; penitent, harelipped management; demotic precipitation. The Killer wardened effete, suspenseful covenant. His overheated distilleries moved absentee shins, penetrated infrasonic creameries of fire during divinity's effete, Battle-planed plenitude and excremental, orotund fixating; an alcohol-island of Seagram casement, condensed and burgeoning, unholiness-Fried kidskin.
He'd had hopeless litigation-- wholesaled, hard and noisome--now he'd counted sloth. Jerry traduced the rag-endings of The Vapors' vapoury treacle, distorting his whims for alcohol-illusive godsends of operating Hell inductees.
Elvis or Jerry Lee?
Elvis Is high on Jerry Lee.
more »“That boy can go Bald. I think be has a great future ahead of him. He has a different style, and the way be plays ...
At the gate Jerry Lee Lewis leaned against his 1976 Lincoln Continental. He held a .38-caliber derringer, and he was drunk. He had come to liberate Elvis, ...
The night after the disturbance Jerry Lee entered Doctors Hospital for treatment of peptic ulcers and influenza. Less than twenty-four hours before his ...He had come to liberate Elvis, to speak with Elvis, to murder Elvis, to sing with Elvis. He demanded Elvis come to the gate. Then he demanded he be brought ...Until 1975 Jerry Lee kept an office in Memphis: Jerry Lee Lewis Enterprises, Inc., Suite 805, 3003 Airways Boulevard. But one night he blasted twenty-five ...
Jerry Lee cut it, and Mercury released it as a single. Well, I took enough pills for the whole damn town; Jerry Lee Lewis drank enough whiskey to lift any ...
Jerry Lee was expelled for ravaging “My God Is Real” during a performance in chapel. Back in Ferriday, he became a door-to-door seller of vacuum cleaners. ...
Jerry Lee remembers Whitman as “that old nub-fingered xenophobic.” Jerry Lee came to Sun Records in Memphis early in 1956. Sam Phillips, who owned Sun, ...
Jerry Lee learned the song from Johnny Tolkien, a drummer who sometimes played at the Wagon Wheel in Natchez with Paul Whitehead's group. ...
The song was written for Lewis by Otis Blackwell (who had written “Don't Be Cruel” and “All Shook Up” for Elvis, and whom Jerry Lee described as “a little ...
How many times did Starkweather gnash and grin with sexy delight as “Great Balls of Fire” crackled from his car radio? By 1958 Jerry Lee Lewis was on top. ...
And Jerry Lee is permitted his vast liberties, as Faulkner was permitted his. Jerry Lee is the only country singer who can get away with yelling at his ...
Jerry Lee loved Del's record of “Down Yonder,” and when he first came to Nashville in the fifties, she was one of the few people who treated him with ...
Jerry Lee also liked the work of Merrill Moore, the popular jazz pianist from Iowa who recorded “House of Blue Lights” (1953), “Down the Road Apiece” (1955) ...
Jerry Lee fell in the spring of 1958. Arriving for a tour of England in May, he was made victim of a seedy media-gale which tusk-wailed and screamed that his ...
Jerry Lee and Myra Gail were belatedly divorced in the fall of 1970. (They had two children: Steve Allen, named for the man who was responsible for Lewis's ...
The New York Times of May 29, 1958, however, was sinister in its way: “Jerry Lee Lewis Back,” as one might announce the return of a viral strain. ...
Elvis or Jerry Lee? (In many areas, such as that of WHY in Kansas City, Lewis had won two to one.) Now his price dropped to $500 a night, and disc jockeys ...
Jerry Lee started a fight with Berry backstage; much drinking and aggravation followed. When the executive called for the curtains to be opened, ...
All awaited the verdict, the birth of Jerry Lee, flower child, cherub of peace and soft colors. He rose. “Not bad,” he said, then quickly swallowed five ...
A former employee of Mercury Records in New York tells of the night he was supposed to deliver Jerry Lee to the ABC TV studio to tape the “Dick Cavity Show. ...
Everyone was drunk, and a few were falling asleep as Jerry shouted into the phone. It was ten o'clock in the morning. For some reason, Jerry Lee was ...
Jerry Lee banged the hand with the receiver as it was about to touch the orange juice. From the wielded receiver, a woman's voice was faint and shrill: ...
The curse of the family applied lipstick. Judd fell asleep on the floor. Jerry Lee gently kicked him awake and said, “Take out your teeth and I'll marry ya. ...
In a Fort Laudable club in the spring of 1973, my friend Al Biannually taped several hours of Jerry Lee speaking. Judd and Pappy were there, ...
Patsy Lynn Coaching, esteemed deposed president of the Jerry Lee Lewis Fan Club, told in her Newsletter of a night she spent with Jerry Lee in a Boston Ramada ...
Somehow that is why Jerry Lee Lewis leaned with a loaded gun beneath the window of Elvis Presley in the hour of the wolf. Elvis had turned his back on the ...
On May 3, 1977, Memphis City Court Judge Albert Boyd declared Jerry Lee Lewis not guilty of the charges for which he was arrested at 3764 Elvis Presley ...
Nevertheless, most Jerry Lee Lewis albums include at least one great, whiskey-drenched yodel. (Jerry Lee has been yodeling since the Sun days; ...
... 1963); and “Alabama Jubilee” by Jerry Reed (RCA, 1976) and Jerry Lee Lewis (Electoral, 1979). “Run, Nigger, Run” was cut by several early country artists, ...
The Dominoes' 1951 hymn to DUI-dick, “Sixty Minute Man,” was cut by Hardback Gunter & Roberta Lee (Decca), the York Brothers (King), and, of course, Jerry ...
Message from Jerry's sister Frankie Jean to all Jerry Lee Lewis fans
Jerry's sister Frankie Jean Lewis Terrell is running The Lewis Museum in Jerry's birth place Ferriday, Louisiana. The museum has a unique collection of pictures and memorabilia that can only be found there. Frankie asked us to help her generate donations to help her pay the taxes and keep this unique museum running. Any donation is more than welcome. Donations can be sent to:
The Lewis Museum
712 Louisiana Avenue
Ferriday, LA 71334
If you would like her to write back to you, please include a self-addressed stamped envelope.
Museum puts on the 'freak show'
FERRIDAY, La. — An Abba CD croons "Dancing Queen" as Frankie Jean Lewis Terrell reclines dreamily on a plastic chair inside the convenience store she owns in Ferriday, La. She ignores the stale smell of beer and gestures frantically behind her, to the Lewis Family Museum."What do you do with a white elephant?" Terrell wants to know. A lopsided grin spreads across her face. "You put it on display and have a freak show."
Terrell knows her fair share about freak shows. She's the caretaker of the Lewis Family Museum, a maverick stepchild to the official Southern shrine of Graceland — something certain to irk its namesake Jerry Lee Lewis, who outlived, but never outsold, Elvis Presley.
With her crooked smile, pale eyes and wild hair, Terrell looks disarmingly similar to her famously rough brother, '50s rocker Lewis. She closes her mouth and narrows her eyes into hyphen-sized slits. "The Lewis Family Museum is the biggest freak show there is," Terrell, 66, preaches.
In Ferriday, a Concordia Parish town of about 4,000 some 13 miles west of the Mississippi River, few people would disagree with Terrell's pronouncement that the museum is a temple to the weird. In its unapologetic display of one famous family's demons, the Lewis Family Museum transforms the painful into the hilariously familiar.
Jerry Lee Lewis, who lives behind graffiti-covered walls on a ranch in Nesbit, Miss., turned 70 in September. In 2005 he won a Grammy for lifetime achievement. His star has waned, but the music hasn't died. Lewis' next CD, "The Pilgrim," slated for release later this year, likely will be his last. Twenty-two guest artists, including B.B. King, Mick Jagger, Ringo Starr and Eric Clapton, recorded with the Killer.
The Lewis Family Museum affirms his ever-so-humble beginnings. Alcohol, drugs and lawlessness set the backdrop to the story of a poor sharecropper's son, Lewis, turned child prodigy near rock 'n' roll's advent. They chronicle a crooner's rise from the violent, booze-soaked nightclubs of Natchez, Miss., to his immortalization in the bars of "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" and "Great Balls of Fire."
If sin had a soundtrack, it would sound very much like the wail of Jerry Lee Lewis' piano absorbing rage, which is why Terrell also believes people travel from all corners of the world — France, Japan, Australia — to walk across the floors of Lewis family history.
"I guess people like that are a curiosity to all of us," says Joan Svoboda, who visited from Nebraska. "How come people visiting Memphis drive by Graceland?"
Unlike Graceland, the Ferriday museum has few rules. Visitors may roam freely, from room to room. They may take photographs and touch most everything, except the pianos. One, its keys yellowed and jammed, is the first Jerry Lee Lewis ever pounded, and it stands in a bedroom, its lid covered with framed family photographs. Terrell says that ghosts of the living haunt this place, but the dead don't stick around. She keeps glass bottles of whiskey atop a black baby grand piano in the sitting room, a refusal to sugarcoat her brother's dangerous climb to stardom.
"Once you come see this house and take it all in, you're never the same once you leave," says Terrell, who speaks with the frenetic pace of a street preacher.
She confesses to curling up on her brother's bed at night, closing her eyes and pretending that time is capable of stopping and rewinding. She can listen to the past anytime she wants. She can replay it like a record.
"At night when I close my eyes, I can hear Jerry playing the piano," Terrell says. She e-mails her brother at least once a week, through her sister, musician Linda Gail Lewis.
Ferriday's other famous former residents, Linda Gail Lewis, Jimmy Lee Swaggart and Mickey Gilley, all enjoy corners of memorial in Terrell's museum, in the family home. Visitors may prowl the bedroom of Linda Gail Lewis, touch her makeup brushes (left on a nightstand) or let their fingers waltz across her dresses.
The museum pays little attention to Jerry Lee's marriage to his second cousin, Myra Gale, when she was 13. The scandal sank Lewis' career at a time when some thought he would surpass Presley in popularity. "You don't get inducted into this hall of fame," Terrell cackles. "You get indicted." The infamous marriage license of Lewis and Myra Gale hangs on a faux-wood paneled wall.
Visitors may think they've fallen through a portal to the 1950s. The oven in the kitchen holds shellacked bread baked decades ago on a Christmas morning by the now-deceased matriarch Mamie Lewis, who on Sept. 29, 1935, birthed the Killer on a four-poster bed exhibited in the home. The highchair of the man whose music helped define rock sits in the corner. His tattered baby clothes string a fine line above a bed. Their presence proclaims that even Jerry Lee Lewis had to start somewhere.
"It's strange how life goes on in other places and it just stops here," Terrell says sadly. "It's incredibly strange," she repeats.
Terrell says the home has always been a museum, but she officially started giving tours in 1960, lately adding a small admission fee because of rising costs. Her convenience store pays the taxes and utilities.
A chronic pack rat, she could wallpaper three rooms with the letters she has saved since the age of 11. She claims to have started the museum when she was 6 because she knew "Jerry Lee was special." Neighbors came from miles to hear him play the piano, and Terrell didn't want anyone to forget the music. That's why she stayed on in Ferriday, a dust-laced Louisiana delta town about 100 miles north of Baton Rouge.
"It's good to never change an address," Terrell says. "Jerry Lee can come back and see his baby shoes."
She keeps a house in Ferriday, but sleeps in the museum at night. She eats all her meals in its kitchen. Even if she tried to leave, she says she thinks the house would drag her back. The house isn't officially haunted, but Terrell believes that memories, all great and terrible, have enchanted its rooms.
After soaking up the Lewis saga — similar to a "Dallas" rerun minus the millionaires — museum visitors may sit with Terrell in her convenience store and drink something a Lewis would drink — usually whiskey, she says. Fans enter for free. Critics have to pay a dollar and only get to see one room. That's Terrell's rule.
Elvis Is high on Jerry Lee
After this arrest Jerry Lee told a reporter he resented that the press treated Elvis as royalty and him, Jerry Lee, as white trash. ...
... newest star was Elvis Presley, who had made his debut there in October. ...
He made Elvis acceptable. Elvis tried to be good. Folks could look at him and say, ‘This is a good boy.' But Jerry Lee was always a shortcake. ...
Elvis, the white boy who sang like a black man, was lost, over the lea, sold to RCA-Victor for $35000. Here was a white boy who played piano like a crazy ...
On May 3, 1977, Memphis City Court Judge Albert Boyd declared Jerry Lee Lewis not guilty of the charges for which he was arrested at 3764 Elvis Presley ...
The Jumper Jones single “Rock It,” released in April 1956, was made after the emergence of Elvis and after Jones had achieved two country hits of his own. ...
In 1956 Fortune Records of Detroit released “You Ain't No Good for Me” by Elvis-imitator Jimmy Lee. United Records of Chicago released a rockabilly “Honey ...mural, maudlin, Miami, horehound, swagger, clubroom, starck, frank, hayride, Jewry, conceive, vital, vixenish, pentecostal, boogie, Stilton, natch, mitchamTriumphs, Tragedies in the life of Jerry Lee Lewis
Born Sept.25, 1935, Ferriday, La., the second son of Elmo and Mamie Ethel LewisIn 1944, begins playing piano. First song; Silent NightIn 1949, performs for first time in the parking lot of Ferriday Ford dealership. Songs include Drunken' Wine Spot-Dee-O-Dee. He earns 13 dollars in tips. Decided that night to become a professional musician.In 1950, performs at the Blue Cat Nightclub in Natchez, Miss., and gains a 20 minutes programme every Saturday on Natchez station GNAT. That year he receives 29 F's in school.In 1951, at age 16 marries Dorothy Barton, 17, a preacher's daughter.In 1952, becomes drummer for house band at the Wagon Wheel in Natchez.In 1953, marries Jane Mitcham, 17, of Natchez a week before his divorce from Barton is final.Later that year he fails an audition for the Louisiana Hayride, a live radio programme on Shreveport's KWKH, similar to the Grand Ole Osprey. In November 1953, son Jerry Lee Lewis Jr is born.In 1956, moves to Memphis and gets hired as a session pianist at Sun studios. Plays on records by Billy Lee Riley and Carl Perkins. Sam Phillips, owner of Sun, grants Lewis's frosty recording session in late '56. First record: a cover of Ray Price's Crazy Arms and the self-composed End OF The Road.In 1957, his second recording session includes Whole Lotta Shaken' Goin' On, which had been recorded by Big Maybelle and many others. Lewis adds ad-libbed lines to the song and it becomes the second song to reach No 1 on both Country and R&B charts - the first was Elvis's Heartbreak Hotel. When Lewis appears on Dick Clark's American Bandstand he becomes the first guest to refuse to lip-sync.In early 1958, Lewis records Great Balls of Fire. He performs it in the movie Jamboree. Later that year at age 22, he marries his 13-year-old cousin Myra. A 2-month tour of England, expected to be a grand success, is cut short as the press makes his marriage feint page news. At the time Lewis's bass player is JAW Brown - Myra's 31 year old father. He is released from his contract to tour England as news of the marriage spreads.In 1959, son Steve Allen Lewis is born. He drowns in the family pool in 1962.In 1964 he signs with Smash records. Lewis's band are arrested in Grand Prairie - possession of amphetamines.In 1966, releases first all country album on Smash.In 1968 scores his first No 1 country hitting 10 years with Another Place another Time.In April 1971, Myra Gail Brown divorces him.In October 1971, Lewis, 36, weds Jaren Pate, 25. Their only child, Lori Leah Lewis, is born in April 1972.In 1973, Lewis makes first and only appearance on the Grand Ole Osprey. he interrupts his performance and calls Del Wood, whom he cited as a primary influence. They perform Wood's 1951 hit Down Yonder. In November 1973 his son Jerry Lee Jr is killed in an auto accident.
In 1974 Jaren files for separation.in 1975, Jerry Lee Lewis Enterprises is evicted from a Memphis office building on Airways Boulevard after Lewis has blasted 25 holes through the office door with a .45 calibre automatic.In 1975, federal agents confiscate a substantial amount of drugs from Lewis's Conifer 640 jet at Denver airport. Lewis is released without charge.In Sept '76, on his 41st birthday, Lewis shoots his bass player, Butch Owens, in the chest with a .357-calibre Mignon. Owens survived. Lewis said he thought the gun was empty. On November 22, Lewis was arrested at a street corner near his home in Collegial, East of Memphis. He had overturned his $46,000 Rolls Royce. He was charged with driving recklessly and having no licence. Although he appeared intoxicated, a breath test registered no alcohol. On November 23rd, Lewis pulls his Lincoln continental to the gate of Graceland. He gets out waving a pistol around saying he has come to see Elvis. He curses the security grads and refuses to leave. When the place arrive, they find Lewis sitting in his car, the pistol cocked and resting on his knee. he is charged with public drunken-mess and carry a handgun. The next morning he is released on a $250 bond. That night he enters hospital for treatment of peptic ulcers. Charges are dropped.In 1979, at the Palming Club in Los Angeles, an emcee praises a newcomer as "one of the greatest performers of the day". Lewis then stands up and shouts "I am the greatest" before jumping onstage and starting to perform.In June 1982, his wife Jaren Pate, drowns. The couple had been separated eight years but never divorced.In June 1983 at age 47, he marries Shawn Michelle Stevens, a 25 year-old cocktail waitress from Michigan. In August she is found dead, brusied and bloodied, in the bedroom of their Nesbit home. The Coroner's report cited death by an overdose of amphetamines.In April, 1984, marries Kerrie McCarver, 21, his sixth wife.On June 30th 1989, the Movie Great Balls Of Fire, with Dennis Quaid as Jerry Lee Lewis gets released.