THE CITY AS OUR MISTRESS

Sometimes I visit a place in my life that I have wanted to visit my whole life. A place that I have only read about or that I only know from television. Of course in the case of Hollywood I'm very well aware that I'm not the only one who experienced this sensation. But I never knew that Hollywood is part and parcel of Los Angeles. I always thought it was a seperate city until just a few weeks before my arrival. But I always wanted to go to Los Angeles ever since I saw some movies of which the story-line was situated thereabouts. There was something about it that fascinated me and I decided one day to find out what it is. Therefore I was very exuberant to finally have the chance and opportunity to spend ten days there after my tour of the East Coast in my capacity as a performing composer-musician. I was lucky to have commenced a comradeship with Mr.Ariel Pink on the electronical highway some years before so that I was insured of cosy company and convenient repose.   

There's a certain kind of magic in the general opinion's dissapproval of a place. It makes me more curious because when they pronounce the reasons for dissapproving they mention very attractive things to me. So when many American people whom I met on my American tour said they dissapproved of Los Angeles because of its extremities and because it's so commercial and because the people are so ambitious I became more and more curious and I was not dissappointed. Now I consider it to be my second home as it has got my kind of energy much more than my home-town Rotterdam does. Yes, my dear friends! It is cucumber-time in Rotterdam. Fortunately there are new elections in a few days again but now I will let the subject rest for a while in order to concentrate on Los Angeles.

There are only stars living in Los Angeles. It doesn't matter if they are famous or not, they are all stars and pose on photographs that are stuck on refridgerator's doors like stars. The reason for this is that it is in the air and it is in the blood of the inhabitants who have grown into the part. It is in the air and you just can't help it. You're walking on a filmset. And that's exactly what I needed. I love artificialness. I need more artificialness in my life. Because otherwise everybody is being so serious in pigeonholing me and you. Do we want that? No!

I didn't visit all of those famous museums there yet. Maybe I will next time. But that's not what I was curious for. What I wanted to see was......people......Because people represent a spiritual exhibition. Each human spirit is endless; it's like going into a room and then into another room and in another one. And by sharing each other's spirits we also learn to know ourselves better like gazing into the mirrors of our souls. The women amongst us handle this auspicious technique perfectly. We can give it a negative meaning and call it chit-chatting chatter, but to me it's something much more deep. It's a psychological contemplation of human behaviour, which makes your horizons widen, makes you feel you're heading towards something that cannot be expressed in words and is different to all of us and which is to be enjoyed with cappuchino and carrot-cake. In short it's a thrill. So that's what I came for......  

Sunset Boulevard is the longest street I've ever seen in my life. Without a car or public transport you're not getting anywhere without wasting many hours walking. And nobody wants to waste time in Los Angeles, especially not me. Fortunately you can buy a ticket for $3 which is valid the whole day in all buses in the area. I gratefully took advantage of this advantageous opportunity. Afterwards, when I was in Oakland each ticket was only valid for one hour and there were no cheaper tickets than $1,50. I therefore ascertained that Oakland has a different policy and prefers to discourage public transport while at the same time gathering a lot of dollars in the bargain. But then the distances are also not so big there. In Los Angeles the distances were quite long to say the least. For a night on the town you have to drive for about an hour in the car first. Not just for 10 minutes, like in an average European city. But I managed to find my way to Amoebe, the biggest record-shop I've ever seen and bought a pile of sixties limited edition collector's items which I've seen here on record-fairs for more than four times the amount and on Capitol Records too. When I left the shop I could see in the distance the real tower of Capitol Records as drawn on the record-label. I hope to get inside of this tower some day. I want to do some business there.

In the well familiar television-series "Sex And The City" a lot of emphasis has been put on the city of New York and in what way its background-scenery influenced the lives of the characters and made the result happen that they were more or less having a love-relationship with the city itself. Exactly the same sentiments Mr.Frank Sinatra conveyed in his famous hit-song "L.A.Is My Lady". These are just a few examples of being married to the city and indulging in it to the full. It must be a wonderful feeling......definitely a better feeling than having a love-hate-relationship with Rotterdam. That's what I think. However, I must also allow for the other opinion doing the rounds as well, that this last sentiment is preferable. That's life. You win some lose some, as they say in America a lot.   

The stars on the ground in Hollywood Boulevard reminded me of the song "Everybody's In Showbizz" by the Kinks. I still know exactly where the stars of Bela Lugosi and Bud Abbott are situated and I can point them out again when I'll be there again. When I was waiting for the bus one day I had to smile when I coincidentally had the song "The Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man" of the Rolling Stones in my head and I sang to myself the lyric "Well, I'm waiting at the bus-stop in downtown L.A." This time the lyrics couldn't have been closer to the truth.

There are young girls who gladly rent out their garages and house-space for free to struggling artists and musicians who don't have much money in a charitative sort of way which becomes them and their good-hearted character. These girls execute their good works in silence unselfishly without bragging and without reacting to the stereotypical cliché-remarks these actions can arouse among the robust-minded cynical in their acquaintances' circle. Yes, my dear friends! Not much is known about these young hard worksters sacrificing some of their own comfort to the benefit of the other's comfort in order to do what they think is best. More is known about the opposite greedy character of human behaviour, because it makes for more sensational media-news and more comprehensible conversation-subjects. But there, in Los Angeles, they toil in silence and give the boys the comfort they need without asking much back for it except an effervescent philosophical conversation now and then, which is not too much to be asked and can easily be provided upon request. 

I was happy to have deejay'ed in the same venue where Ariel Pink, a good friend of mine who picked me up from the airport and at whose abode I resided, deejay'ed. He gladly gave me 15 minutes of time to play some Dutch Disco-music from the late seventies. To my surprise the dancing audience went wild over the song "Miss Broadway" by the female trio Belle Epoque from 1977. After that I played "Planet Of Love" by the Dutch Glamrock-band Lemming and "Hugging On The Express" by the Disco-formation The Dream Express. It was a succesful evening and I look forward to doing this more often. It's likable to constitute an interesting contemplation of human reaction for me worthy enough to be recorded in my notebook which I carry with me for such occasions.   

Ariel Pink is a very talented musician and a flabbergasting personality. He toils with the hectic razzmatazz that public responsibilities originate and so do I. But he knows how to transform recording-sessions and listening-experiences into an excellent party by producing genuine and analogue summer-sounds and melodies of a striking nature. God bless him!

I walked around a lot enjoying the weather, the sceneries like the Hollywood-hills and taking the buses. I also stopped for cappuchino or doughnuts at idyllic lunch-places. I also visited Laguna Beach where I was invited on Thanksgiving by the family of Erin Weber from the band named The Taurusloves who also performs under the artist-name Crystal Beams. The family lived just a few doors away from the famous couple Richie Sambora and Heather Locklear and you could only enter the street of residence by passing a strong thick gate which moved away as soon as you had entered the appropriate pin-code. It was very idyllic to have mexican breakfast and cappuchino there along the beach. We also visited the Laguna Hotel quite a few times, where the drunk rich people whom we befriended and shared an aperitif with thought we were having a break from making a movie. I acquainted myself with the high society there where Erin's mother who is also very hip belongs to and I examined Laguna Town together with Erin. In the crystal-shop they sell articles that are millions of years old and carry lots of wisdom, health and minerals inside. In Slovenia you also have such shops.

The El Sid Screwball Club in Sunset Boulevard was a great experience and I made many a new friend that evening of my performance there, including a very talented Mexican jeans-designer named Betta who works with an assistant called Lady Dré whom I didn't meet yet but I still want to mention here because I like to please people. One of the organizers was Mr. Don Bolles from the famous seventies-band the Germs and it was encouraging to have also had the honour of entertaining this jovial, outlandish, rogue-ish, and sympathetic comrade with the orange leather trousers. The other organizer, Miss Darcy Leonard, did a very awesome job as a well-organized atmosphere-maker. The clothes were made of red and gave a rosy impression as uplifting as being in the flower-shop of which there are many in The Grove, Echo Park and Hollywood-West. The experienced atmosphere is of the addicting kind that you don't want to have replaced by any other atmosphere. That's at least what I thought. So......a great compliment and thumbs-up to the managerial entertainment-skills of this energetic and talented dancing mannequin! Chapeau for Miss Darcey Leonard! (Applause)

For now therefore I shall save up some money to enable me to repeat my visit again and again. During every visit I will discover something new. That's how it's supposed to be and that's how it will be. I already discovered the accent and the Grove. For European people the general American accent sounds like the people are chewing gum while speaking English. Of course that comparison can be appropriate in some American states like Texas and Pennsylvania, but America has many different accents which is not surprising as it's an incredibly big country. In Los Angeles the people don't open their mouths so widely while speaking. It's more like they're mumbling loudly. As I became a member of Myspace my circle of friends from thereabouts keeps growing day by day so that my attachment to the city becomes tighter. I will return in June to the eye of the hurricane and I'm prepared for a special psychological treat. Take good care of each other......and yourselves!

HARRY MERRY

THE JUBILEE

In every trade-organization the jubilee constitutes a hurdle which must be taken elegantly but which many a director has broken his neck on. It's a supremely difficult obstacle. The reason for this is as follows: the customary office-tone in which affairs are usually despatched, the sober, energetic manner of speaking in which everybody from director to youngest employee is accustomed to constrain himself through the day from 9 till 5, is suddenly null and void here. Instead of that, some sort of domesticity, a tone of mutual appreciation and even admiration, a tapping-on-the-shoulders and we-dont-mean-it-all-that-badly attitude stands out, which, for the very reason that it's valid for only one day, can be adopted only with much difficulty for both management and personnel; for the former because of the danger of loss of prestige, for the latter because of the risk of too much familiarity. Of them both, the director is the hardest put to it. Therefore we shall first of all commence with giving him some directives.

On the day of the jubilee the director must shave himself in good time and breakfast slowly and copiously. This is for him the only enjoyable moment of the day and he is well-advised to extract whatever's in it. Next he has to walk through his garden for 15 minutes and repeat this sentence to himself: "Today I am not a wretch; I am a father." Next he has to make his way to the factory. Here the flag happens to be hung out and the entrance to be decorated with flowers. Now he acts pleasingly by standing still while appearing to be moved, like someone who absolutely has no idea what's going on. A quartet of gentlemen in morning dress in whom he recognizes with difficulty a mechanic, two welders and a fitter, the last one of whom he had wanted to fire only last week, wait for him at the main gate. He shakes hands heartily with all of them and next enters the vestibule with a restrained grace. Here a triumphal arch turns out to have been set up with the inscription: "Forty Year Jubilee. Hurrah!" In such situations there are directors who exclaim "Oh, I say! Of course! I had completely forgotten about it!" This goes too far. Such apparent imbecility undermines authority. Better is: "You shouldn't have done that!" This sentence must be pronounced in an emotional way, in a tone of soft reproof. Also good is: "This really hasn't been necessary!", but the first one is better because the latter one is already generally understood.

Then the company hurries through the deserted factory to the canteen, where the staff is gathered. During the walk past the motionless machines it's rather pleasant when the director mutters to himself in a surprised way: "Now, where the heck are those boys?" The remark is silly to a high degree, but is still generally appreciated. Usually, the working-manager or prime book-keeper, who marches in front in a much-shrunken morning dress, answers, with a nervous laugh: "That you shall see!", after which the sentence "Well, I am curious!" is the only, though obvious, solution. On the threshold of the chock-full canteen the director comes to a halt. In his face emotion and boundless astonishment are reflected. If the so-called Factory Song is being started at that moment, then the director is to be strongly dissuaded from hanging about there for all 12 stanzas like a dullard. Boldly stepping forward through the centre-path, at the same time singing along at the top of his voice, is again the best solution. A pleasant trait, which always leaves a good impression, is as follows: the chair, adorned with flowers, on the platform in the middle is of course intended for the director. However, he doesn't have a clue about this and sits down in an ordinary chair. This error not only brings about a relaxation in an atmosphere which otherwise would become too solemn, but it also proclaims that the director is a modest man, who stands in the limelight unwillingly.

Now come the most difficult moments of the jubilee. These are the speeches. The director hears that the concern owes its prosperity mainly to him. He knows that this is a lie, because if he falls down the staircase tomorrow, a new director, who's going to modernize the business completely, is standing on the bottom step before he reaches the floor. Moreover, he learns that the business has reached its present-day proportions especially on account of his energy, although he's the one in the hall who gets up later than any of those present and who positively has the intention of persevering in this custom too. He hears that he is gentle, righteous, unimpeachable and that he has an enormous, decades-spanning brain at his disposal. Besides, he is, and this stands to the fore, a good human being. He isn't so much an employer -- sure, he's that too -- but he is especially a father. Of the staff he knows the necessities and difficulties and he's engrossed in those. But at the same time, and that's just the striking thing, he is a born leader, who can be hard when necessary, when it can't be helped, when it's requisite for the public interest. But it's not always necessary and then he isn't. In short, without him it would have become a bungle-business; and now, now everybody as far as the interior of Brazil knows what it is: a gigantic and at the same time human concern, risen from the genius of a saint. How should the director behave himself during these proceedings?

My first advice reads: never, ever look at the speaker. That would bring the man into confusion and, besides, it creates the necessity of giving your glance a specific expression. And there's no specific expression in existence for when your praises are being sung. A smile would indicate that you don't believe the speaker. As this is indeed the case, this condition ought to stay concealed. Earnestness on the other hand intimates that you swallow everything like sweet gingerbread and this is even worse, because a child knows that it's gibberish. Therefore keep your glance directed down, fixed upon the floor. Now and then, shake your head dubiously during certain passages in which the speaker piles it on. Also, from time to time, wipe away a tear. Everything is okay, but don't look! A director who looks irrevocably bares his soul. He is only allowed to look up in surprise when the speaker approaches the moment at which the gift is to be presented. This he hasn't expected and it must show clearly.

The present is usually a clock. Of course this isn't an ordinary clock but a modern, daringly produced and from all existing clocks differing time-device, that doesn't run and on which, if it did run, one couldn't possibly see what time it is. Mostly the apparatus is concealed under a cloth which the speaker, according as his discourse draws to an end, approaches slowly, meanwhile proceeding continuously. Now the time has come to observe this veiled colossus with the greatest astonishment. With that your look is not allowed to betray that you know that there's a clock under it, which you've seen standing in the consulting-room for weeks already and for which you've contributed a pretty penny yourself. Now the speaker starts to talk about this present with disdain. It's small, so he says, it doesn't stand in proportion to your merits and, compared to what it should have been, it must be considered almost worthless. In brief, it's a Material Token. Now the man snatches away the cloth, the director claps his hands and drops backward into his chair. You mustn't exaggerate this, as if you were dying, because this raises expectations which aren't fulfilled afterwards. You examine the gift and after this you read the inscription, which has been placed on a silver plate under the clock-face. Now you perceive, from the breathless silence in the hall, that a speech of thanks is expected.

This should be brief. First of all, say that what you've done, someone else would have done in your stead. The meaning of this isn't quite clear, but it must be said. Most directors yet add to this, that even they have their defects and are subject to human shortcomings. I wouldn't do this, because that's exactly what the whole staff has already known for a considerable time. Finally the director remarks that indeed he has the leadership, but that without his subordinates, who carry out his ideas, the factory wouldn't function. This is a dangerous truth, but every director must face up to it and defuse it. It is very good to mention a few names at this point. However, one must restrict oneself to the pensioners. The further one progresses from the grave, the greater the danger of a raise becomes. So one has to avoid mentioning still-working personnel, unless it's certain that they got their permission to leave next week or emigrate for other reasons. Give a full week of wages and the next day free. This last sentence is crucial. A director may safely stutter and make blunders one after another, as long as that last announcement comes out fluently. In this he must be accurate, punctual and on time. Hence the clock that has been given to him.   

And now the position of the staff. Of course, the boys want to go back to their pigeons and rabbits as soon as possible; and if it was entirely up to them, they would be standing in the street in 3 minutes. But it's not up to them, so they remain sitting. There's still a lot of homage-paying that has to be done. In the first place there are the old workers who even used to know the director's father and there's one tenacious hanger-on who still remembers the grandfather very well. The former can be put outside on the grass with a cigar, but that old one requires more comprehensive treatment. A wall-plate with an inscription, a silvered cake-scoop, or something else which he can't do anything with anymore, is, after all, the least that can be given. But if he starts to talk about what it used to be like back then, drastic intervention is required. "That's right, William!" the director cries after having listened to a few sentences and immediately steps jovially towards him, "Give me your hand! And what a memory! Thanks, my dear chap!" "Yes, but......" the man begins, dismayed, because he still hasn't come to the severe winter of 1908, when it wasn't allowed to light the fire because the production would have suffered. "Exactly!", the director calls heartily, "Thats how it is and no other way!" And he immediately puts his arm around him and conducts him to the corridor at a strong pace, straight towards a cognac-bottle.

Meanwhile the master of ceremonies hurries towards a new breach in the merry-making. It's old Barend, who still knows everything about the the strike of 1915 and in whose remembrance, sharpened by three glasses of sherry, the pungent details suddenly come to the surface again. Barend can tell stories with gusto and he's just busy relating the storming of the managers' room, when he feels himself being pulled softly by the sleeve. It's the manufacturers wife, who holds a photograph-album from the good old days in front of him. A moment later Barend is sitting in a corner of the canteen looking at snapshots, while the good man fails to see that some of the photographs have been removed beforehand.

Meanwhile the director, who feels that the worst difficulties are now over, moves from one group to another. He converses with the employees affably, but he does this in such a way that the possibility of calling each one of them a noodle tomorrow stays completely open. However, employees from before 1919 he must avoid carefully. For in that year the 8 hour working-day was established under the Ruys De Beerenbroeck-administration, so any encounter with people from before this occurence can give rise to incidents. Fortunate therefore is the business that has been founded after July 11^th 1919, because then the wrathful rising of prophets from the Old Testament belongs to the realm of impossibilities. A factory established before this date can still contain just some of these Displeased in 1959, either as working members or, which is maybe even worse, as pensioners, who suddenly loom up at the party like phantoms out of the black past. Thus the ideal date of foundation lies after July 11^th, 1919. The 40-year jubilee then exclusively unites folk from the New League.  

And now a personal remark from me. The Kayser ready-made clothing-factory has hit upon the dangerous idea of inviting me to open the memorial volume of its jubilee with an "own vision". I was completely free in the choice of my subject and I was allowed to go my own way. Right, I've gone my own way. And now I wish the management of this business luck, not with this jubilee, because that's the task of time, but with the courage it has shown by asking me specifically. They could otherwise have invited a eulogist, who eats the usual humble pies for them. They knew that I would get something very different out of my oven and they have taken that risk. I've gone to look behind the scenes of the jubilee in workman's clothes, not of this special jubilee, but of jubilees in general; and this is what I found there. Of course, the result can't be rejected. None will be the wiser. It can be accepted too. It's all the same to me. But if they print it, then one thing is certain: that over there in Lonneker they have enough self-irony at their disposal to see such jubilees in terms of their relative values. And moreover it has been shown that those manufacturers not only make workmans clothes, but they're also prepared to walk about in them. For I've taken off the jubilee-celebrators' morning dress and shown them what they really look like at such a party. A management which can do that has a strong foundation. Its authority doesn't lean on the suit, but on what's in it. And that is worth a congratulation from......

GODFRIED BOMANS 

In Memoriam GODFRIED BOMANS 1913-1971

One of the most famous and prolific writers from the Netherlands is undoubtedly Godfried Bomans. He was a very big admirer of the works of Charles Dickens and was even honorary member of the Dutch Dickens Fellowship. He studied Journalism and started off his career with writing for newspapers, but at the same time was also working on his book "Pieter Bas"; a satire on the life of a politician. But his big breakthrough came with his second book "Eric In The World Of The Insects", where little boy Eric is nervous about his examn for Biology and then dreams that he enters the world of the insects through the painting which hangs above his bed and experiences all these adventures with them. This book is still considered his most famous book ever and has also been published into English.

Since then he wrote psychological articles, fairy-tales, funny short and long stories, analizing books about the Roman Catholic religion (where his roots lay), detective-books, fables, novels and even cartoon-strips. But in his later years he also started to focus on the spoken word. So he appeared in many television-programs in the sixties. Also records were released with his voice reading from his own work in front of audiences. Or he gave on the radio advice to people in the audience who want to know the solution to certain problems or riddles which recordings were released on records as well. So people also became familiar with his voice in the end. On TV he usually represented himself as a writer who likes to smoke a pipe in front of the parlour-fire in his rocking-chair. He became known as someone who liked to stay at home. He also kept promising his audience a true and definite Dickens-biography; a promise which he didn't manage to keep.      

In the early seventies he presented his own television-program as well; a travelling-program. And suddenly this same man who had for years proclaimed that theres no place like home in Haarlem was being a world-traveller in places like Italy and investigating monasteries, including the one where his brother lived. Meanwhile he kept writing one book after another while still posing as a lazy man. By that time he was already a big celebrity in Holland and got invited everywhere to read from his own work. He couldn't say 'no'; he always said 'yes'. Afterwards there were quite a few people who expressed the opinion that he shouldn't have done that. 

He also got the invitation from the Dutch media to camp on the lonely island Rottumerplaat in the most Northern part of the Netherlands. He accepted the invitation and camped in a tent on this island and had radio-contact a few times a day to give a live-report about his situation. For the rest he was just with himself and the big white birds on the beach. He also wrote a diary on this island in which it becomes apparent that he had a hard time as he was used to live with an audience and couldn't really do without it.

Half a year after his adventure on Rottumerplaat Godfried Bomans died from a heart-attack. He was 58 years old; the same age Charles Dickens had when he died from the same cause. There were millions of people at his funeral. Such a big number of people at a funeral never has occured before or since in the Netherlands, except maybe for members of the Royal Family; but certainly not for a writer......

The next blog is a story by Godfried Bomans called The Jubilee, translated by me into English.

HARRY MERRY