Amid the new perfumes, sounds and colors that arrived daily last week as spring popped in the landscape, the joys of the season in South County were tempered by one little-known off-note. On Friday, the offices of the East Coast Greenway Alliance – an organization dedicated to creating a continuous recreational route from Key West to the top of Maine – closed their doors, shut the windows and turned off the phones at Lily Pads Professional Center in Peace Dale. Greenway headquarters have departed to Durham, N.C., and while the move makes sense on a number of levels, it’s still a loss for the local culture of “fresh air fiends,” to use an expression from author Paul Theroux.
The Greenway will still have a presence in Rhode Island, as Eric Weis, the organization’s trail program coordinator, lives in Providence and maintains a small office on Dorrance Street. But having the headquarters here gave legitimacy to all of the efforts to build public paths, whether on the spine of the Greenway or popular spurs – like the East Bay Bike Path, the Blackstone River Bikeway or the William C. O’Neill (South County) Bike Path, throughout the state. As a consequence, Rhody has become one of the more bike-friendly states on the Eastern Seaboard, with 50 miles of paved paths completed, another 40 miles at various stages of development, and bike routes and lanes integrated into its largest cities. A recent trip down Blackstone Boulevard in Providence revealed the kind of urban bike lane that would be the envy of any city cyclist. Despite its steep hills, potholes and long winters, Providence has emerged as a cycling town, thanks in large part to its steady influx of green-minded college students.
Not all Rhode Islanders are fans of public paths. In some places, such as the Canonchet section of Narragansett, NIMBY has reared its ugly head, as some residents have stonewalled the planned process for extending the South County Bike Path from South Kingstown to Narragansett Town Beach for years. Their arguments ring hollow, particularly since public access already exists in the neighborhood, which serves as the gateway to the South County Museum. Among their most recent rhetorical strategies is to express concern about the surrounding wetlands. It’s a great point. Makes you wonder why they didn’t consider it when they built their houses there.
NIMBY is a popular figure in Rhode Island, and I can even understand the angst when it comes to wind turbines, container ports, nuclear power plants, prisons and airports. But a bike path? As someone who lives two blocks from the most traveled bike path in the state, I can assure you that you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who lives on or near the route that doesn’t appreciate having it there. In an age when we’re combating obesity, inactivity and our dependency on expensive energy, bike paths are no-brainers for communities. They promote health and fellowship, provide opportunities to see nature in the raw and the progression of the seasons, and become a unifying source of pride for neighborhoods. Just this spring, jogging the path along White Horn Brook and Genessee Swamp in South Kingstown, I’ve encountered a deafening chorus of peepers screeching like banshees, hunting hawks and herons, deer and fawns bounding through the adjoining woods, beaver lodges, bugling geese and concerts of songbirds in the swamp and surrounding forest. At the path in Barrington, the town’s historic society has installed storyboard kiosks, documenting the region’s heritage as a place of oyster houses, lace factories and Wampanoag territory.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, but apparently it was built quicker than the town of Narragansett can build a bike path. So until that day happens, here’s this week’s question: What is your favorite bike path in Rhode Island?
Monday, May 2, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Jolly Roger and Out
The romance of pirates never seems to fade, despite the grim details emerging weekly from modern pirates mistreating or killing yachters and sailors in the Indian Ocean and Gulf of Aden. The violence associated with corsairs of legend – clashing swords, walking planks, firing cannon – is the stuff of adventure, somehow different from the gruesome news accounts of brutal, bloody shootouts and kidnappings. With old-school pirates, it’s the rogue spirit people seem to respond to, the sense of freedom on the high seas, the lure of buried treasure, the cult of personality and the classless ideal of sharing the common spoils.
And nowhere in the United States is piracy more revered than in Rhode Island, where re-enactors like the Rhode Island Pirate Players and the Free Men of the Sea (based in Connecticut) spread the gospel of buccaneer life at festivals throughout the year, including this weekend’s “Bridge to the Past” at Smith’s Castle in Wickford. Along the banks of the Cocumscussoc, the Free Men will launch an exhibition “PIRATES! Against all flags,” that will give visitors a glimpse into the fact and folklore of long-ago pirates on the New England coast, allowing them to view period weapons, pirate flags, coins and other treasure, types of punishments and other paraphernalia. The event coincides with Sunday’s May Fair in East Greenwich, called “Pirate Palooza.” Earlier this month, the R.I. Pirate Players, who entertain visitors to Newport every summer with their walking tour “Dead Men’s Tales,” became the first Rhode Island pirates to receive a letter of marque – also known as a privateering commission – from the governor (Lincoln Chafee in this case) since Gov. William Jones issued letters of marque during the War of 1812.
(Side note: It's common to see Rhody vessels and even some houses still flying versions of the Jolly Roger - or skull-and-crossbones flags. Rebel flags in general remain popular here in The Independent State. You can spot a Confederate flag now and then in rural Rhody. Even more common is the "Don't Tread on Me" flag...although I saw more of them around before it was usurped by the Tea Party. There are still a few traditionalists, but even then, many residents flying national flags haven't gotten around to changing from the original circle of 13 stars yet.)
During the Golden Age of Piracy, from the late 17th through the early 18th century, piracy was – like slavery – an industry of its own in Rhode Island. Although most went under the legal “privateer” label, pirates commonly fitted out in Rhode Island while residents answered the equivalent of “Pirate Needed” Help Wanted ads to serve as crew members. And Rhody, especially Newport, was a refuge for many of the most notorious swashbucklers, including William Kidd, Blackbeard, Henry Every and Thomas Tew, most of whom supposedly buried booty in and around Block Island or Aquidneck Island – as yet undiscovered (or unreported).
Every, considered “The King of Pirates” since he acquired more plunder than any other freebooter, captured the biggest treasure ever on a ship belonging to the Great Mogul of India, then supposedly came to Providence in 1696 on his ship Charles (alias Fancy) after leaving his home port of Madagascar to outfit himself with a new ship that would take him to retirement on the west coast Ireland. In 1698, the London Board of Trade reported “pieces of Arabian gold are common in New York and Rhode Island, after the arrival there of pirate Captain Coats from the Red Sea.” In 1702, maritime historian William Clark wrote “every man in Newport is either a pirate or privateerman.” In 1716, Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, is known to have enjoyed an extended stay in Providence. Long after piracy died out in most of the Colonies, Rhode Islanders were still going on raids, claiming prizes and pocketing sterling, gold and jewels. It took the merchants to change things. As merchant ships began crowding Rhode Island harbors, their owners didn’t want their vessels to become pirate prizes, so they forced local politicians to enforce and strengthen the laws against piracy. In 1723 at Gravelly Point near Newport, 26 men were hanged for piracy, putting an exclamation point on how seriously Rhode Island law officials were taking the new rules.
Thomas Tew, often called “The Rhode Island Pirate,” lives on in a rum named after him, produced by the Newport Distilling Co. Made with blackstrap molasses, pot stills and local water, and aged in French and American oak barrels, the rum harks back to when Newport was the rum capital of the world. By 1769, 22 distilleries were operating in Newport. During this time, according to a Web site featuring “A Condensed History of Rum,” “New England rum was considered to be better than that of the Caribbean. Rhode Island rum for a short period was so popular that it was actually used as currency in Europe alongside of gold.” But the drink fell out of favor during the next century. By 1817, only two distilleries remained in town. The John Dyer Distillery in Providence, the last standing in the state, shut down in 1872. So Thomas Tew, which produced its first bottle in 2007, was the first Rhode Island-made rum in 135 years.
Aside from wampum and rum, what would be an appropriate alternative form of currency for Rhode Island today?
And nowhere in the United States is piracy more revered than in Rhode Island, where re-enactors like the Rhode Island Pirate Players and the Free Men of the Sea (based in Connecticut) spread the gospel of buccaneer life at festivals throughout the year, including this weekend’s “Bridge to the Past” at Smith’s Castle in Wickford. Along the banks of the Cocumscussoc, the Free Men will launch an exhibition “PIRATES! Against all flags,” that will give visitors a glimpse into the fact and folklore of long-ago pirates on the New England coast, allowing them to view period weapons, pirate flags, coins and other treasure, types of punishments and other paraphernalia. The event coincides with Sunday’s May Fair in East Greenwich, called “Pirate Palooza.” Earlier this month, the R.I. Pirate Players, who entertain visitors to Newport every summer with their walking tour “Dead Men’s Tales,” became the first Rhode Island pirates to receive a letter of marque – also known as a privateering commission – from the governor (Lincoln Chafee in this case) since Gov. William Jones issued letters of marque during the War of 1812.
(Side note: It's common to see Rhody vessels and even some houses still flying versions of the Jolly Roger - or skull-and-crossbones flags. Rebel flags in general remain popular here in The Independent State. You can spot a Confederate flag now and then in rural Rhody. Even more common is the "Don't Tread on Me" flag...although I saw more of them around before it was usurped by the Tea Party. There are still a few traditionalists, but even then, many residents flying national flags haven't gotten around to changing from the original circle of 13 stars yet.)
During the Golden Age of Piracy, from the late 17th through the early 18th century, piracy was – like slavery – an industry of its own in Rhode Island. Although most went under the legal “privateer” label, pirates commonly fitted out in Rhode Island while residents answered the equivalent of “Pirate Needed” Help Wanted ads to serve as crew members. And Rhody, especially Newport, was a refuge for many of the most notorious swashbucklers, including William Kidd, Blackbeard, Henry Every and Thomas Tew, most of whom supposedly buried booty in and around Block Island or Aquidneck Island – as yet undiscovered (or unreported).
Every, considered “The King of Pirates” since he acquired more plunder than any other freebooter, captured the biggest treasure ever on a ship belonging to the Great Mogul of India, then supposedly came to Providence in 1696 on his ship Charles (alias Fancy) after leaving his home port of Madagascar to outfit himself with a new ship that would take him to retirement on the west coast Ireland. In 1698, the London Board of Trade reported “pieces of Arabian gold are common in New York and Rhode Island, after the arrival there of pirate Captain Coats from the Red Sea.” In 1702, maritime historian William Clark wrote “every man in Newport is either a pirate or privateerman.” In 1716, Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, is known to have enjoyed an extended stay in Providence. Long after piracy died out in most of the Colonies, Rhode Islanders were still going on raids, claiming prizes and pocketing sterling, gold and jewels. It took the merchants to change things. As merchant ships began crowding Rhode Island harbors, their owners didn’t want their vessels to become pirate prizes, so they forced local politicians to enforce and strengthen the laws against piracy. In 1723 at Gravelly Point near Newport, 26 men were hanged for piracy, putting an exclamation point on how seriously Rhode Island law officials were taking the new rules.
Thomas Tew, often called “The Rhode Island Pirate,” lives on in a rum named after him, produced by the Newport Distilling Co. Made with blackstrap molasses, pot stills and local water, and aged in French and American oak barrels, the rum harks back to when Newport was the rum capital of the world. By 1769, 22 distilleries were operating in Newport. During this time, according to a Web site featuring “A Condensed History of Rum,” “New England rum was considered to be better than that of the Caribbean. Rhode Island rum for a short period was so popular that it was actually used as currency in Europe alongside of gold.” But the drink fell out of favor during the next century. By 1817, only two distilleries remained in town. The John Dyer Distillery in Providence, the last standing in the state, shut down in 1872. So Thomas Tew, which produced its first bottle in 2007, was the first Rhode Island-made rum in 135 years.
Aside from wampum and rum, what would be an appropriate alternative form of currency for Rhode Island today?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Fossils R Us
One of the side notes from Jamestown filmmaker Patti Cassidy’s documentary project, “Elephants in Rhode Island,” was that to date there have been no wooly mammoth or mastodon bones discovered in the Ocean State, despite significant findings in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Maine. This doesn’t mean that the primeval elephants weren’t here. Trawlers have scooped up mammoth and mastodon teeth during their hauls in Narragansett Bay, suggesting that the Pleistocene mega-fauna were hanging out when the bay was a basin, as yet unfilled by glacial melt.
Quite likely they were happily camped out in pre-sprawl, Ice Age Rhode Island, blissfully unaware of the mass extinction to come – a condition they shared with short-faced bears, dire wolves, stag-moose, giant beaver and saber-toothed cats.
As Gary Haynes writes in his “American megafaunal extinctions at the end of the Pleistocene”:
Not one we’re likely to solve today, but in the universe that is Rhode Island, there’s a bigger mystery afoot. Why don’t we have a state fossil? Most every other state does, including four of our New England neighbors: Vermont (white whale); Massachusetts (dinosaur tracks – theropod footprints); Connecticut (dinosaur tracks – Eubrontes giganteus); and Maine (Devonian plant).
Rhody, along with both Carolinas, Kansas, Iowa, Indiana, Tennessee and Hawaii, is just a blank space on the official state fossils list.
Marilyn Massaro, curator of collections at the Museum of Natural History and Planetarium at Roger Williams Park in Providence, which houses thousands of state fossils, thinks it’s high time that changed.
“The official state fossil should come from one the plant families of the Carboniferous period,” she said in a phone conversation this morning. “That really is sort of the Rhode Island fossil. In fact, I can’t believe that Calamites aren’t already the state fossil.”
The Carboniferous period, also known as the coal age, occurred between 354 million to 290 million years ago. Calamites were medium-sized trees that grew up to 100 feet or more, located in the understories of coal swamps. Their only living relatives are horsetails. Their fossils are still evident in parts of Rhode Island.
Any other suggestions? What should be the state fossil of Rhode Island? (Note: Assorted media personalities, weather forecasters and ex-governors are not eligible.)
Quite likely they were happily camped out in pre-sprawl, Ice Age Rhode Island, blissfully unaware of the mass extinction to come – a condition they shared with short-faced bears, dire wolves, stag-moose, giant beaver and saber-toothed cats.
As Gary Haynes writes in his “American megafaunal extinctions at the end of the Pleistocene”:
The great vanishing act took place in California and Rhode Island and Texas, in the center of Brazil and along the Pacific coast of Chile, in the inland steppes and pampas and plains of both Americas, in the cold southern cone of Argentina, in the lowlands and plains, mountains and foothills, everywhere in both continents and at nearly the same time. It’s a mystery we cannot solve – a true cold case.
Not one we’re likely to solve today, but in the universe that is Rhode Island, there’s a bigger mystery afoot. Why don’t we have a state fossil? Most every other state does, including four of our New England neighbors: Vermont (white whale); Massachusetts (dinosaur tracks – theropod footprints); Connecticut (dinosaur tracks – Eubrontes giganteus); and Maine (Devonian plant).
Rhody, along with both Carolinas, Kansas, Iowa, Indiana, Tennessee and Hawaii, is just a blank space on the official state fossils list.
Marilyn Massaro, curator of collections at the Museum of Natural History and Planetarium at Roger Williams Park in Providence, which houses thousands of state fossils, thinks it’s high time that changed.
“The official state fossil should come from one the plant families of the Carboniferous period,” she said in a phone conversation this morning. “That really is sort of the Rhode Island fossil. In fact, I can’t believe that Calamites aren’t already the state fossil.”
The Carboniferous period, also known as the coal age, occurred between 354 million to 290 million years ago. Calamites were medium-sized trees that grew up to 100 feet or more, located in the understories of coal swamps. Their only living relatives are horsetails. Their fossils are still evident in parts of Rhode Island.
Any other suggestions? What should be the state fossil of Rhode Island? (Note: Assorted media personalities, weather forecasters and ex-governors are not eligible.)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Right-of-way, Wrong-of-way
There was a time when Rhode Islanders could get to every inch of their shoreline. That isn’t true anymore, even though Rhody probably does a better job than the other 22 coastal states of promoting its public rights of way. Making our way to the water’s edge is considered a birthright, a privilege granted to every Rhode Islander by the colony’s original charter, as ordained by King Charles II, and affirmed later in the state Constitution.
Here, people have the right to fish from the shore; leave the shore to swim in the sea; gather seaweed; or merely pass along the shore on their excursions and ramblings. Jim Bedell, whose Coast Watcher’s Journal column appears in the arts section of Independent Newspapers, writes eloquently about the natural beauty, history, science and encounters that can be combed from the southern Rhode Island shoreline while informing citizens of their public access rights.
Unfortunately, not everybody shares the same democratic spirit. Over the years, some public rights of way have been obliterated – marked improperly with Private Property, No Trespassing or No Parking signs; blocked by grown trees or shrubbery, illegal dumping or fencing; even paved over.
I am reminded of what a blessing Rhode Island’s rights of ways are every day, from my little cottage on the cove, where the public access (and parking) are plentiful. People come to sit and watch the waves and the light, the rising moons and the setting suns, the bonfires and fireworks around the Fourth of July. They come to fish, explore the little beaches, swim or launch kayaks.
I often walk to the beach at Allin’s Cove, visiting swans and herons, geese and ducks, gulls and crows, shore birds and songbirds. From there I sometimes ramble through the neighborhood, connecting to the East Bay Bike Path, and wander over to the other side of the cove in a neighborhood once known as Drownville. A little over a mile leads to Mussachuck, where the other day I watched herring run up the creek and two nesting osprey take turns looping through the winds. Not far away, just past Annawamscutt Beach, another pair of osprey has successfully established a nest.
Last week, after visiting Rosecliff for this Thursday’s paper column, I meandered to the Cliff Walk and settled on a small beach between Marine Avenue and Ruggles Avenue, where the waves were wild and white, giving off an “Aquidneck Five-0” vibe. A day later, my commute took me toward Sakonnet, so I dropped by Warrens Point – perhaps my favorite spot in the state. The place is generally inaccessible since the way to it is guarded by a man in a little security booth during the warmer months and, unless you have a boat, you can’t get there without someone claiming you’re trespassing. Some day, when I can afford the jail time, I’ll challenge the blatant abuse of wealth at work here, but that’s a fight for another recession. For now, I’m content to limit my visits to three seasons. Even though signs say the beach is closed; truth is, nature never closes its beaches. Only people do.
As much as we should celebrate every right of way, we should challenge every wrong of way. If I can ever afford to retire (not likely), I’ll start up a Wrong of Way Brigade. We’ll wear buttons that say WOW and march to all of Rhode Island’s inaccessible shore paths, demanding our way to the waves and the wind and the light that belong to nobody but are shared by all souls.
What is your favorite Rhode Island right of way?
Here, people have the right to fish from the shore; leave the shore to swim in the sea; gather seaweed; or merely pass along the shore on their excursions and ramblings. Jim Bedell, whose Coast Watcher’s Journal column appears in the arts section of Independent Newspapers, writes eloquently about the natural beauty, history, science and encounters that can be combed from the southern Rhode Island shoreline while informing citizens of their public access rights.
Unfortunately, not everybody shares the same democratic spirit. Over the years, some public rights of way have been obliterated – marked improperly with Private Property, No Trespassing or No Parking signs; blocked by grown trees or shrubbery, illegal dumping or fencing; even paved over.
I am reminded of what a blessing Rhode Island’s rights of ways are every day, from my little cottage on the cove, where the public access (and parking) are plentiful. People come to sit and watch the waves and the light, the rising moons and the setting suns, the bonfires and fireworks around the Fourth of July. They come to fish, explore the little beaches, swim or launch kayaks.
I often walk to the beach at Allin’s Cove, visiting swans and herons, geese and ducks, gulls and crows, shore birds and songbirds. From there I sometimes ramble through the neighborhood, connecting to the East Bay Bike Path, and wander over to the other side of the cove in a neighborhood once known as Drownville. A little over a mile leads to Mussachuck, where the other day I watched herring run up the creek and two nesting osprey take turns looping through the winds. Not far away, just past Annawamscutt Beach, another pair of osprey has successfully established a nest.
Last week, after visiting Rosecliff for this Thursday’s paper column, I meandered to the Cliff Walk and settled on a small beach between Marine Avenue and Ruggles Avenue, where the waves were wild and white, giving off an “Aquidneck Five-0” vibe. A day later, my commute took me toward Sakonnet, so I dropped by Warrens Point – perhaps my favorite spot in the state. The place is generally inaccessible since the way to it is guarded by a man in a little security booth during the warmer months and, unless you have a boat, you can’t get there without someone claiming you’re trespassing. Some day, when I can afford the jail time, I’ll challenge the blatant abuse of wealth at work here, but that’s a fight for another recession. For now, I’m content to limit my visits to three seasons. Even though signs say the beach is closed; truth is, nature never closes its beaches. Only people do.
As much as we should celebrate every right of way, we should challenge every wrong of way. If I can ever afford to retire (not likely), I’ll start up a Wrong of Way Brigade. We’ll wear buttons that say WOW and march to all of Rhode Island’s inaccessible shore paths, demanding our way to the waves and the wind and the light that belong to nobody but are shared by all souls.
What is your favorite Rhode Island right of way?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Providelphia
Post Mortem: “Body of Proof”
Episode 1 of the made-in-Rhode-Island, set-in-Philadelphia, cadaver-of-the-week drama “Body of Proof” aired last Tuesday (with a second episode squeezed into the ABC Sunday lineup last night), so here are my first impressions:
The series is Hollywood slick, but the acting is uneven, and you would expect a first show to offer a little more edge and originality in either the plot (painfully contrived) or the ensemble characters (painfully familiar and forgettable). Dana Delany plays the main character, Dr. Megan Hunt, a brilliant medical examiner with Sherlock Holmes-esque powers of observation and deduction. Before her forensic career, Hunt was an ace neurosurgeon until a horrific traffic accident left her with a condition that causes her hands to cramp and numb without warning – a handicap that ended her first profession after she killed a woman on the operating table. She has no relationship whatsoever with her 12-year-old daughter, who lives with her embittered ex-husband. And, in a point made repeatedly during the first show, she has no friends. Wow. That’s a lot of baggage to carry.
One problem is that this kind of show has been done to death, and better, ranging from the “CSI” franchise to “Crossing Jordan” (with Jill Hennessy as a crime-solving forensic pathologist in Boston) and “Bones” (with Emily Deschanel as a forensic anthropologist in Washington, D.C.). Hunt’s medical examiner follows in the tradition of these talented, emotionally-stunted women who are more comfortable spending their days among corpses than with the living. In all of these shows, there’s murder and banter in equal doses, a few red herrings to carry the hour, a story arc peppered with obvious sexual chemistry between the female protagonist and her male partner, and throwaway lines of noir humor that border on parody.
In fact, parody might’ve been a better way to go. The genre was lampooned brilliantly in the Nicholas Stoller and Jason Segel movie, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” as the eponymous character spoofed the stock female crime-solver role in “Crime Scene: Scene of the Crime” and, during the final credits, “Animal Instincts.” (Check out the spin-off movie “Get Him to the Greek” for another short Sarah Marshall parody of a TV drama cliche, “Blind Medicine,” in which Kristen Bell plays a visually impaired nurse. Hysterical.)
If only “Body of Proof” had the guts to go all the way for camp. They could’ve invited a weekly celebrity cadaver (in the manner of the old celebrity super-villains on the 1960s “Batman” show, or the celebrity murderer on the not-camp-but-certainly-witty “Columbo”) to draw interest. Pay the standard slab rate to B actors that no longer have the option of going on “Love Boat,” “Fantasy Island” or “Tales from the Crypt.”
Another problem is this whole Providence-Philly mash-up. While the various Rhodyspotting scenes are fun, it’s jolting to see Pennsylvania cops hanging out by the Hot Club or a sudden exterior shot of the Billy Penn tower in the mix. I’m sure the folks in Pennsylvania are saying the same thing we are: “Hey, that’s not Philadelphia!” (Of course, Philly’s a bigger market than La Prov, to borrow a phrase from Phillipe & Jorge – may they rest in peace – which may explain why Rhody isn’t the setting as well as the location shoot.) Also, at least in the first episode, everybody who works in Providelphia (or Phillydence) seems to have spectacular, only slightly varied, views of the same city buildings.
The R.I. Film and TV Office along with many in the Ocean State are rooting for this show for the jobs it will provide and for the exposure it will bring. That’s fine (although let’s not be yahoos about it; if the show settles in as a standard, well-made forensic drama, that’s probably the best we can hope for.) It’s a shame, though. Providence would make a great noir town on the little screen. We have the infrastructure in place for gritty crime drama. Rampant corruption. Colorful real-life characters. The University of Rhode Island even offers a popular forensics lecture series during the academic year.
At any rate, the next time someone decides to film a series in Rhody with a weekly dead body count, let’s hope the autopsy reveals that the last meal included stuffies, wieners and strip pizza, not cheesesteaks.
What do you think of “Body of Proof”?
Episode 1 of the made-in-Rhode-Island, set-in-Philadelphia, cadaver-of-the-week drama “Body of Proof” aired last Tuesday (with a second episode squeezed into the ABC Sunday lineup last night), so here are my first impressions:
The series is Hollywood slick, but the acting is uneven, and you would expect a first show to offer a little more edge and originality in either the plot (painfully contrived) or the ensemble characters (painfully familiar and forgettable). Dana Delany plays the main character, Dr. Megan Hunt, a brilliant medical examiner with Sherlock Holmes-esque powers of observation and deduction. Before her forensic career, Hunt was an ace neurosurgeon until a horrific traffic accident left her with a condition that causes her hands to cramp and numb without warning – a handicap that ended her first profession after she killed a woman on the operating table. She has no relationship whatsoever with her 12-year-old daughter, who lives with her embittered ex-husband. And, in a point made repeatedly during the first show, she has no friends. Wow. That’s a lot of baggage to carry.
One problem is that this kind of show has been done to death, and better, ranging from the “CSI” franchise to “Crossing Jordan” (with Jill Hennessy as a crime-solving forensic pathologist in Boston) and “Bones” (with Emily Deschanel as a forensic anthropologist in Washington, D.C.). Hunt’s medical examiner follows in the tradition of these talented, emotionally-stunted women who are more comfortable spending their days among corpses than with the living. In all of these shows, there’s murder and banter in equal doses, a few red herrings to carry the hour, a story arc peppered with obvious sexual chemistry between the female protagonist and her male partner, and throwaway lines of noir humor that border on parody.
In fact, parody might’ve been a better way to go. The genre was lampooned brilliantly in the Nicholas Stoller and Jason Segel movie, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” as the eponymous character spoofed the stock female crime-solver role in “Crime Scene: Scene of the Crime” and, during the final credits, “Animal Instincts.” (Check out the spin-off movie “Get Him to the Greek” for another short Sarah Marshall parody of a TV drama cliche, “Blind Medicine,” in which Kristen Bell plays a visually impaired nurse. Hysterical.)
If only “Body of Proof” had the guts to go all the way for camp. They could’ve invited a weekly celebrity cadaver (in the manner of the old celebrity super-villains on the 1960s “Batman” show, or the celebrity murderer on the not-camp-but-certainly-witty “Columbo”) to draw interest. Pay the standard slab rate to B actors that no longer have the option of going on “Love Boat,” “Fantasy Island” or “Tales from the Crypt.”
Another problem is this whole Providence-Philly mash-up. While the various Rhodyspotting scenes are fun, it’s jolting to see Pennsylvania cops hanging out by the Hot Club or a sudden exterior shot of the Billy Penn tower in the mix. I’m sure the folks in Pennsylvania are saying the same thing we are: “Hey, that’s not Philadelphia!” (Of course, Philly’s a bigger market than La Prov, to borrow a phrase from Phillipe & Jorge – may they rest in peace – which may explain why Rhody isn’t the setting as well as the location shoot.) Also, at least in the first episode, everybody who works in Providelphia (or Phillydence) seems to have spectacular, only slightly varied, views of the same city buildings.
The R.I. Film and TV Office along with many in the Ocean State are rooting for this show for the jobs it will provide and for the exposure it will bring. That’s fine (although let’s not be yahoos about it; if the show settles in as a standard, well-made forensic drama, that’s probably the best we can hope for.) It’s a shame, though. Providence would make a great noir town on the little screen. We have the infrastructure in place for gritty crime drama. Rampant corruption. Colorful real-life characters. The University of Rhode Island even offers a popular forensics lecture series during the academic year.
At any rate, the next time someone decides to film a series in Rhody with a weekly dead body count, let’s hope the autopsy reveals that the last meal included stuffies, wieners and strip pizza, not cheesesteaks.
What do you think of “Body of Proof”?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Pogo Dave Spotting
Highway driving in Rhode Island can be dreary in March. Until the forsythia arrives, and unless the hawks are hovering, there are few highlights on the major roadways. So yesterday’s trip from Barrington to South County and back was a rare treat for me, since I passed Pogo Dave coming and going.
It was my first (and second) Pogo Dave sighting. I passed him on Route 4 sometime before noon and then on I-95 heading back to Providence around 4:30. He drives an All-American red, white and blue automobile with a bull’s head and horns on the hood, various gizmos and stationary bikes mounted on the roof. The car has a sign that reads: “This car is powered with insanity.” A North Providence native, also known as Dave Clayman, Pogo Dave has been parking his car on roadsides throughout Rhode Island performing on his contraption and spreading the gospel of nonsense for 16 years. Somehow, despite driving about 33,000 miles a year in this state for the past 11 years, I’ve never seen him before…until twice in one day.
With the international holiday of pranks, hoaxes and practical jokes set for Friday,* perhaps we should consider making Pogo Dave Rhode Island’s official April Fool. (Although Love 22 might give him a run for his money. We might have to put it to a state vote, as we did during the debate over what should be the official state drink: Del’s lemonade or coffee milk?)
The tradition of April Fool’s Day hoaxes goes back centuries, but the practice seems to have really taken off in modern times. Among the best last year: Starbucks, the coffee chain that sizes its cups as “tall,” “grande” and venti” – a language I generally refer to dismissively as Starbuckian – showed it had a sense of humor by announcing two more sizes: the 128-ounce “plenta” and the two-ounce “micra.” Google changed its name to “Topeka” for the day. And England’s Guardian newspaper announced that after 188 years of printing ink on paper, it would be switching exclusively to publishing on Twitter, after management decided that any story can be told in 140 characters.
Rhode Island hasn’t been at the forefront of a good April Fool’s Day prank in a long time, at least according to the humorologist at the University of South-Central Rhode Island who is often consulted in these matters.
This week’s question: Who is Rhode Island’s April Fool?
* A partial list of tomfoolery that may also include parodies, satires, spoofs, lampoons, follies, frolics, wisecracks, gags, japes, capers, larks, farces, send ups, takeoffs, mockeries, fakes and forgeries.
It was my first (and second) Pogo Dave sighting. I passed him on Route 4 sometime before noon and then on I-95 heading back to Providence around 4:30. He drives an All-American red, white and blue automobile with a bull’s head and horns on the hood, various gizmos and stationary bikes mounted on the roof. The car has a sign that reads: “This car is powered with insanity.” A North Providence native, also known as Dave Clayman, Pogo Dave has been parking his car on roadsides throughout Rhode Island performing on his contraption and spreading the gospel of nonsense for 16 years. Somehow, despite driving about 33,000 miles a year in this state for the past 11 years, I’ve never seen him before…until twice in one day.
With the international holiday of pranks, hoaxes and practical jokes set for Friday,* perhaps we should consider making Pogo Dave Rhode Island’s official April Fool. (Although Love 22 might give him a run for his money. We might have to put it to a state vote, as we did during the debate over what should be the official state drink: Del’s lemonade or coffee milk?)
The tradition of April Fool’s Day hoaxes goes back centuries, but the practice seems to have really taken off in modern times. Among the best last year: Starbucks, the coffee chain that sizes its cups as “tall,” “grande” and venti” – a language I generally refer to dismissively as Starbuckian – showed it had a sense of humor by announcing two more sizes: the 128-ounce “plenta” and the two-ounce “micra.” Google changed its name to “Topeka” for the day. And England’s Guardian newspaper announced that after 188 years of printing ink on paper, it would be switching exclusively to publishing on Twitter, after management decided that any story can be told in 140 characters.
Rhode Island hasn’t been at the forefront of a good April Fool’s Day prank in a long time, at least according to the humorologist at the University of South-Central Rhode Island who is often consulted in these matters.
This week’s question: Who is Rhode Island’s April Fool?
* A partial list of tomfoolery that may also include parodies, satires, spoofs, lampoons, follies, frolics, wisecracks, gags, japes, capers, larks, farces, send ups, takeoffs, mockeries, fakes and forgeries.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Roger and We
Following up on last week’s question on how to celebrate Rhode Island’s 375th anniversary – gift ideas under consideration: wampum or Cumberlandite – it looks like the City of Providence wants to party like it’s 1636.
On Wednesday at 5:30 p.m., the Greater Providence Chamber of Commerce will conduct a Providence 375 Informational Workshop. From their press release:
Among the events: a “My Providence” video contest; a special WaterFire in honor of the 375th; Providence’s Independence Weekend celebration and fireworks; a “Providence 375” gala honoring individuals who exemplify Williams’ legacy and ideals; a National Park Service-sponsored Shakespeare in the Park production; a “Roger Williams Paddle” led by Rhode Island Blueways; a “What does the American dream mean to you?” public art installation at Roger Williams National Memorial; an exhibit on Williams’ “A Key into the Language of America” at The Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology; The Manton Avenue Project’s “375 Roger (Over and Out): the happy-birthday-Providence-plays”; and more.
Conveniently missing from the hoopla is another Roger Williams project announced earlier this month – one that would flesh out the founder’s reputation as a slave trader. In his later years, Williams wasn’t quite the idealist he had been as a younger man. The decades after that moment when Narragansett Indian Sachem Canonicus and his people gifted Williams the land that would become the Rhode Island Colony were marred by conflict between cultures, culminating in King Philip’s War during the 1670s. According to Julianne Jennings, a Native American and former Rhode Island scholar now studying in Arizona, Williams and other colonists held a town meeting on August 1676 that resulted in an agreement to send the community’s American Indian prisoners to the Caribbean, Portugal, Spain and Africa, where they were sold as slaves. (The fact that Williams’ house had been destroyed by native factions in the burning of Providence during March of that year might have contributed to the cranky old free-thinker’s judgment.)
State officials have agreed to a request to erect a plaque somewhere in Providence that will focus on Williams’ role in selling American Indian war captives into slavery. They just haven’t figured out where or when. Given the tendency to deify our historical figures into the realm of myth and legend, there’s probably some resistance to permanently installing a monument to the Bad Roger legacy during the same year we’re celebrating the 375th anniversary of Good Roger’s landing. But there shouldn’t be.
Inherent in every holiday named after a person is the hypocrisy of sanctifying those who were flesh and flawed. The cracks in the faces of the four presidents on Mt. Rushmore are not just weather-related, but metaphoric, a visual reminder that we put masks on our heroes, and don’t really want to see them in their stark complexity. To schoolchildren from Woonsocket to Westerly, Roger Williams is the George Washington of Rhode Island. (Although Washington, truth be told, was no great fan of Rhode Island, skipping it on his horseback journeys until we knuckled under and ratified statehood.) We have this permanent image of Preacher Williams in the long coat and the pilgrim’s hat greeting the local tribes with “What cheer,” befriending natives and colonists regardless of their cultural, political or religious beliefs, and setting the tone for the best of Rhode Island’s ideals and aspirations. As Rhode Islanders, we believe that before there was an American dream, Williams dreamed it. But the truth is far more complicated. Wherever you shine a light you'll see shadows. Which is fine. An exacting curiosity in pursuit of truth and knowledge is always healthier to a functioning society than mindless PR. Anniversaries aren’t just about celebrating the past. They are about surviving it, hopefully with a few lessons learned along the way.
Where should the “Roger Williams, slave trader” plaque be placed?
On Wednesday at 5:30 p.m., the Greater Providence Chamber of Commerce will conduct a Providence 375 Informational Workshop. From their press release:
HOPE FREEDOM ROOTS INGENUITY
A celebration to honor Roger Williams’ legacy and ideals
In 1636, Roger Williams and a small group of followers landed on the shores of the Seekonk River in Providence’s Fox Point. From May-October 2011, Providence will commemorate the 375th anniversary of the colonial settlement along the shores of the Great Salt Cove.
Among the events: a “My Providence” video contest; a special WaterFire in honor of the 375th; Providence’s Independence Weekend celebration and fireworks; a “Providence 375” gala honoring individuals who exemplify Williams’ legacy and ideals; a National Park Service-sponsored Shakespeare in the Park production; a “Roger Williams Paddle” led by Rhode Island Blueways; a “What does the American dream mean to you?” public art installation at Roger Williams National Memorial; an exhibit on Williams’ “A Key into the Language of America” at The Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology; The Manton Avenue Project’s “375 Roger (Over and Out): the happy-birthday-Providence-plays”; and more.
Conveniently missing from the hoopla is another Roger Williams project announced earlier this month – one that would flesh out the founder’s reputation as a slave trader. In his later years, Williams wasn’t quite the idealist he had been as a younger man. The decades after that moment when Narragansett Indian Sachem Canonicus and his people gifted Williams the land that would become the Rhode Island Colony were marred by conflict between cultures, culminating in King Philip’s War during the 1670s. According to Julianne Jennings, a Native American and former Rhode Island scholar now studying in Arizona, Williams and other colonists held a town meeting on August 1676 that resulted in an agreement to send the community’s American Indian prisoners to the Caribbean, Portugal, Spain and Africa, where they were sold as slaves. (The fact that Williams’ house had been destroyed by native factions in the burning of Providence during March of that year might have contributed to the cranky old free-thinker’s judgment.)
State officials have agreed to a request to erect a plaque somewhere in Providence that will focus on Williams’ role in selling American Indian war captives into slavery. They just haven’t figured out where or when. Given the tendency to deify our historical figures into the realm of myth and legend, there’s probably some resistance to permanently installing a monument to the Bad Roger legacy during the same year we’re celebrating the 375th anniversary of Good Roger’s landing. But there shouldn’t be.
Inherent in every holiday named after a person is the hypocrisy of sanctifying those who were flesh and flawed. The cracks in the faces of the four presidents on Mt. Rushmore are not just weather-related, but metaphoric, a visual reminder that we put masks on our heroes, and don’t really want to see them in their stark complexity. To schoolchildren from Woonsocket to Westerly, Roger Williams is the George Washington of Rhode Island. (Although Washington, truth be told, was no great fan of Rhode Island, skipping it on his horseback journeys until we knuckled under and ratified statehood.) We have this permanent image of Preacher Williams in the long coat and the pilgrim’s hat greeting the local tribes with “What cheer,” befriending natives and colonists regardless of their cultural, political or religious beliefs, and setting the tone for the best of Rhode Island’s ideals and aspirations. As Rhode Islanders, we believe that before there was an American dream, Williams dreamed it. But the truth is far more complicated. Wherever you shine a light you'll see shadows. Which is fine. An exacting curiosity in pursuit of truth and knowledge is always healthier to a functioning society than mindless PR. Anniversaries aren’t just about celebrating the past. They are about surviving it, hopefully with a few lessons learned along the way.
Where should the “Roger Williams, slave trader” plaque be placed?
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