31 December - The Year in Catwalks


Positively the Last Catwalk of '09

Looking back, it was a pretty good year for catwalking, except that my sprained foot back in September cut back on my mobility a bit. After

24 December - That Cherub Pose



The Janus Museum holds a particular photographic collection that I think must be unique. Some years back I found an uncatalogued group of nineteenth century images in an unmarked box; the first image was the picture shown above - how odd, I thought, to find a shot of two dudes with their shirts off, c.1880. Then, with the next tintype...




... I figured out what was going on. These pictures were take-offs on the famous image of the two putti, the cherubs, looking up from the bottom of

24 December - Toscanini's Guilt Trip



Our old friend Herb Grossman, former assistant to

In his last years with the NBC, a number of things happened, for the most part not witnessed by me (those were my Munich years), but the incident I remember mostly had to do not with one of his final performances overall but with his last performance of an opera he had conducted since Puccini himself was alive, La Bohême - in concert form. It occurred in the final scene of the last act where Rodolfo overhears one of his colleagues whisper that Mimi is dead. The French horns (why is it always the French horns?), after a silent downbeat of great drama, immediately let loose with a series of three blood curdling chords, the orchestra immediately picks up with a melodramatic, heart-stopping phrase from an earlier aria, at the end of which Rodolfo shrieks "MIMI," a scream of agony which in my estimation is the most powerful such utterance in the history of the medium. As happened occasionally at this time when Toscanini knew he would soon have to give up the conducting which had been his life for more than 65 years, his emotions overcame him and the downbeat which precedes the three chords was struck with such strength and passion that two of the five horns entered where there should have been silence; the others, shocked, tried to catch up, the first two realized their mistake and tried to retreat - chaos ensued for what must have seemed an eternity, though it was only a matter of seconds before they straightened themselves out.

In a few minutes the performance came to an end and the musicians retreated to their orchestra room not knowing what kind of wrath awaited them. As they sat there pale and anxious, the door opened and a stern Toscanini walked through the door, asked all but the Horns to leave the room, then turned and stared. He continued staring, they shivered in dread until finally, "Tonight you will all go home and make love to your wives," he said, "while I, Povero Toscanini, will lie awake all night visiting and revisiting the shame of a ruined career."

And with that, without another word, the old man turned and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Nothing more ever was said.

23 December - Augmented Seasonal Cat Content



Here, from the archives, is another classic seasonal cat photograph - good old

22 December - Tragic Lack of Seasonal Cat Photography



My apologies for the lack of

21 December - Four Seconds Along the Canal



Here's another

20 December - The One-Eyed Captain



Here's a bit of a puzzle from the scanning queue. The gallant though one-eyed officer shown above is identified on the reverse of the carte-de-visite:




... Except that I can't quite make out the name - "Capt. Teshel(?) 8. U.S. Cav". A bit of searching brought up a Captain E. G. Fetchet of the 8th Cavalry, most notable for his participation in the skirmish that resulted in the death of Tatanka Iyotaka - Sitting Bull - on December 15, 1890:




From

19 December - Ring dem Bells



Here are the lads of

19 December - Closed on Account...



... Of the blizzard currently falling on the Museum, and the rest of the Washington Grove/Washington DC area. Which means that the Museum's Fruitcake Festival is cancelled, which is a shame, since we were hoping to sell a load of recalled fruitcakes. Which reminds me that we had a fruitcake-related disaster the other day - someone attempted to flush a hunk of fruitcake down the toilet in the public facility. We had to call in the plumbers. The Museum fellows refused to allow Museum visitors to use the Fellows' loo, which means we had to close the Museum.

Meanwhile, the maintenance man, Gus, who should be shoveling for god's sake, is nowhere to be found.

Also, the site may go dark - the measly traffic allowance, of course. Ah, but here's something festive for the season and all:




Celebrating around the old iron lung - via

12 December - Now as Seen on TV



During the summer of '07, I

9 December - Alarmed Mountain Cow



I forget what I said that so alarmed the poor cow. It's not as if I gestured wildly toward her calf with a hamburger bun or anything like that. Taken on the Blue Ridge, near Paris, Virginia.

7 December - A Prodigy, Interrupted by Cat


Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart with his favorite cat, Leroy

The Royal Society is celebrating its 350th anniversary with a new online library project called

My intention in carrying with me this manuſcript compoſition, was to have an irrefragable proof of his abilites, as a player at ſight, it being absolutely impoſſible that he could ever have ſeen the muſic before.

The ſcore was no ſooner put on his deſk, than he began to play the ſymphony in a most maſterly manner, as well as in the time and ſtile which correſponded with the intention of the compoſer.

I mention this circumſtance, becauſe the greateſt maſters often fail in theſe particulars on the fiſst trial.

Witneſs as I was myſelf of moſt of theſe extraordinary facts, I muſt own that I could not help ſuſpecting his father impoſed with regard to the real age of the boy, though he had not only a moſt childiſh appearance, but likewiſe had all the actions of that ſtage of life.

For example, whilſt he was playing to me, a favorite cat came in, upon which he immediately left his harpſichord, nor could we bring him back for a conſiderable time.

He would also ſometimes run about the room with a ſtick between his legs by way of horſe.

6 December - Specialization in Photographic Equipment



I can't say that the need for such a camera's ever come up in my own work, but it's nice to know that the Werewolf Camera Gun exists, at least in the pages of

5 December - A Doe and a Verger Queued



Today's encounters in the scanning queue included (above) a cautious doe photographed in Bushy Park, Hampton Court, and...




... A vintage portrait of old Elias Wallingford, verger of St. John's in Washington Grove, c.1885. By the way, a verger (or virger, so called after the staff of the office) is a person, usually a layman, who assists in the ordering of religious services, particularly in Anglican churches (