September 2004 Archive

Coming in to DC on the train this morning, I spotted an airship, the Army's rented Lightship, currently in the area to test new surveillance equipment. I spotted it again after I left Union Station, and so took a few shots. I crossed 3rd Street, leaving the Capitol grounds - I confess that I jaywalked - and an unmarked car flashed its lights and pulled up next to me. The officer - a US Capitol Police officer - started to step out, and then I noticed that a man in plain clothes was following behind me. Plain Clothes called out to me, and showed me his Capitol Police ID. More officers arrived - there were four in all, two uniformed and two in plain clothes.

Uniformed No. 1 told me that I had been seen with a surveillance device. I said that I had a camera, and that I was photographing the blimp. Blimp, they all said, so I pointed at it. They scrutinized the blimp, briefly, and turned back to me. Really, this is getting too predictable.

Plain Clothes No. 2 asked where I worked. I told them, and pointed to my cap, which says NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM AIRSHIP DIVISION - I thought it might add a touch of verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative. I was asked for ID, and for date of birth. U1 asked how long I had worked there - since 1986, I said. 1986, he marveled! He then sternly asked me if I jaywalked every day - I said no, it was a rare lapse, brought on by the excitement of seeing the blimp. One of the PCs asked me where I was born - here in DC, I replied. U1 asked me about my camera, so I showed it to him. He asked to see some of the shots, and I showed him a picture on the tiny LCD screen, and explained what a crappy zoom it had, and that the blimp probably wouldn't show up very well. I decided not to mention that I might later try to bring it up with a little image processing later on. I was asked for my driver's license. I was asked what I do at the museum. PC 1 asked PC 2 if he needed my "social", my Social Security number. PC 2 said he didn't need it. By the way, the officers were all very polite - U1 was even friendly - not so much a good cop/bad cop situation, as a good cop/better cop thing - really, it's a pleasure to be interrogated by such nice people. But the question of my jaywalking was brought up again - U1 said that it was a criminal offense, after all, punishable by a fine of - here the officers had a brief debate, but couldn't resolve whether the fine was five or ten dollars. I said that I would never do it again.

On the topic of photography, they told me that of course it was legal to take pictures, but that they had gotten a call that someone was using a surveillance device, and of course they had to check it out. Of course, I said, glad that we were off of the subject of criminal offenses and fines. They thanked me for my cooperation, shook my hand, and we parted. I got to the office and took some better shots with the office camera:



The airship was still around in the afternoon:



I have to say I'm pretty ambivalent about this frequent rousting by the Capitol constabulary - Washington DC is threatened by terror, sure enough. The boys of the Force are just doing their job, and are being jolly observant about stuff going on around them. On the other hand, I'm just a poor schlemiel walking to work - should taking a picture be that suspicious an act? Photographing while bearded, I bet, is the main problem. I really ought to just shave it.

Spent some time on the Mall today, enjoying the festivities for the opening of the National Museum of the American Indian. I used to hear people compare the Mall to Paris' Tuileries. Well, it's nothing like; the Mall is usually a monotonous, uninteresting stretch of ground. But turn loose a big crowd of happy people on the Mall like today and for the World War II Reunion earlier this summer, and it's a wonderful place to hang out - they should have something going on here every week.

And there was some fabulous headgear:

The National Museum of the American Indian opens tomorrow - one can watch the proceedings on the museum's webcast. The building's quite wonderful. It glows in the morning, and the newly planted natural habitats that surround it are a beautiful touch. And in keeping with the age-old American tradition of cheating the Red Man, the museum's architect, Douglas Cardinal, a Canadian Indian, was thoroughly hosed by the main contracting firm, and was fired back in 1998. But I look forward to visiting the museum after the opening crowds thin a bit. Even though my big idea for the museum - having a casino instead of the usual museum shop - was flatly ignored.

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Update - I'm not the only suspicious character being watched by the US Capitol Police - two journalists were briefly detained last month for snapping away on the Capitol grounds; one of them at a checkpoint, like me. Other interesting stories of suspicious photographers are coming out - some are pretty horrifying.

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18 September



I watched a Polish film a few evenings ago,

H.M. Deserters (C.K. Dezerterzy), 1987 - a madcap group of disgruntled soldiers take it on the lam in the waning days of Austro-Hungarian participation in World War I. It reminded me of, and owes some of its tone, to Jaroslav Hasek's Good Soldier Svejk:



... but with a touch of Sergeant Bilko and Catch-22. Like an American World War II flick, where every member of the bomber crew hails from a different part of the country - smart-aleck Brooklyn kid, slow-talking southern guy, crazy-ass Maryland gunner, etc - the deserters are from every corner of the crumbling Austro-Hungarian empire - the sly Polish corporal, the crazy Hungarian, the slow, beer-swilling Czech, a Viennese Jew, and an Italian POW. A nice surprise is that Haber, the Viennese, is played by the wonderful actor Wiktor Zborowski, who played Longinus in the 1999 version of With Fire and Sword (Ogniem i Mieczem). So I've ordered the sequel, Deserters' Gold (Zloto Dezerterów). Probably won't be as good - sequels, you know. UPDATE - as I suspected, Zloto Dezerterów wasn't as good as the prequel, but the novelty of a Polish World War II comedy was not to be missed.

But I had to larf out loud when this vision of long-ago Kakania became curiously contemporary, given my recent misadventures with the authorities. Our heroes are in a train compartment heading for Vienna, and a gendarme enters with a bad sort of prisoner in tow - hope you can make out the subtitles:

Today is Defenders' Day, the anniversary of the repulse of the British fleet from Fort McHenry in 1814. NPR has some good coverage on their site. No photos of the fight, of course, but the Museum does have a wet-plate image of the fort's Union garrison, taken some years later:



It was Maryland's proudest moment, and so the Museum is bedecked with Maryland flags today. Some years ago we had a celebration - here's a snap of Gus, our maintenance man, at the Present with the Squire of Pecker Wood, an old Friend of the Museum:

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10 September


Ed Wood, Jr. as Glenda

Funny thing - I've seen

Plan 9 from Outer Space, and also Tim Burton's affectionate tribute to its director, Ed Wood. But I never got around to watching his other masterpiece, Glen or Glenda, his loonily moving account of the perils of cross-dressing, and the liberating effects of a cozy angora sweater:




I finally saw it a few days ago with several Friends of the Museum in our cozy Fellow's Common Room, with the Curator's permission, of course. Ed Wood can never be described as a master of dramatic pacing, and the dialogue's a bit - well, wooden, but my god, what a movie (a couple glasses of wine may have helped a bit). Especially the extended dream sequence (chapter 9 on the DVD) - a sort of Ulysses in Nighttown but with Bela Lugosi and bondage. We also saw Guy Maddin's madcap six minute tribute to Dziga Vertov and Eisenstein, The Heart of the World:




You can see another short film by Guy Maddin, Sissy Boy Slap Party here.

I haven't had so much fun at the movies since I saw Max Ophuls' Lola Montes on mescaline, many years ago.

Breaking news - the annual Washington Grove Labor Day Triathlon is in progress - very exciting.

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Last week I attended the retirement ceremony of a friend, a Naval officer, at the Naval Heritage Center in DC. Very nice - she was piped aboard, there were bells and sideboys and an admiral - everything a Patrick O'Brian fan could desire except an actual battle and a pudding. Later, at the reception in the Center's President Room, I came face to face with Richard Nixon - an effigy of him, anyway:



I don't recall that much was ever made of Mr. Nixon's wartime service, as opposed to the current edifying discussion. He did his service in the South Pacific, not gloriously but usefully as an Ops officer in the Air Transport Command, rising to the rank of lieutenant commander. I recall hearing that he played a lot of poker, too. Less well-known is that before he joined the Navy, he worked as a lawyer for the Office of Price Administration - the OPA was the agency that regulated prices and imposed rationing. Here's a photo from Life, December 13, 1943, captioned "Minor League OPA Brain Trusters", showing a group of staffers coming up with even more red tape:



That's RN at the bottom - one can just make out the familiar jowl line. I don't think that Nixon's ever been identified in the image before. I know about it 'cos my Pa, Milton Szégy-Légy is also in the photo (upper right, sitting on the radiator) - Pa was in the tire rationing section. He didn't work much with RN amd so didn't have any revealing anecdotes, but my Ma recalled that at office parties, Dick and Pat didn't mix much - they would immediately scope out the highest-ranking guests and spend the evening brown-nosing. Quiet folks, mostly kept to themselves (except at parties).

2 September



Good news!