Last week, the American Association of Advertising Agencies (4A) announced the 4A’s O’Toole Awards for Creative Excellence. VCU Brandcenter won for best portfolio school.

Hats off to you, Brandcenter! I am so proud.

Now seems like a good time to reflect on my first month (and a half) as a BC resident. To sum it all up, it’s been demanding exciting frustrating overwhelming difficult challenging, but most of all, fun. I love it here. I really do. The people and professors are more than I could ask for. The next two years are going to be a complete rush.

As great as it’s been, I’ve struggled with two things: BC’s unconventional academia and the seemingly never ending search for “the right stuff.”

Things are different here. There’s no doubt about it. I sat down with Coz the other day because I’ve been feeling frustrated – mainly because the thing holding me back from being great is myself. Here’s what he told me: “Take everything you’ve learned in the past 16 years and throw it out the fucking window. Your previous education is malarkey; it’s shit. You are in the most unconventional, unorthodox graduate program in the nation. Forget about grades. You’re on a fucking adventure.”

He’s right. At some point I need to stop being afraid of everything I ever feared in a conventional academic institution. Being at the Brandcenter isn’t about grades. Everything here is subjective. It’s about finding yourself and your voice. Your point of view. Just about anything and everything flies. Want to write “fuck” in gigantic bubble letters on your next project? Sure, why not. Except, don’t. Fuck is a boring word.

Point being, it’s about experience. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t a good one.

Then there’s problem numero two. The never-ending search for the “right stuff.” You know, the stuff that got us into the Brandcenter in the first place. The stuff that’s going to get us jobs.

Coz calls our period of frustration the terrible-two’s. We’re too smart for our own good – we know what we want to say, we just can’t communicate it.

For me, it’s this constant feeling of sitting in a dark room, waiting for someone to turn the lights on. Only, the light switch is hidden in a ceiling tile and the person I’m waiting for is myself. Go figure.

Every day, every class I begin to understand more about this business. You can set your goal on being a writer at an agency and spend every minute of your life trying to achieve that goal; however, if you don’t have “it,” you’ll never amount to anything. You’re just a hack.

It.

No one really knows what “it” is – but we do know when someone special comes along.

I’ve been reading bits and pieces of The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe when I can. I found the following pretty interesting:

Oh, by the way, it’s about flying.

“A career in flying was like climbing one of those ancient Babylonian pyramids made up of a dizzy progression of steps and ledges, a ziggurat, a pyramid extraordinarily high and steep; and the idea was to prove at every foot of the way up that pyramid that you were one of the elected and anointed ones who had the right stuff and could move higher and higher and even – ultimately, God willing, one day – that you might be able to join that special few at the very top, that elite who had the capacity to bring tears to men’s eyes, the very Brotherhood of the Right Stuff itself. “

They say 95% of advertising is full of hacks.

Here’s to having the tenacity to being in that top 5%.

Pozrite si akúkoľvek stránku lovcov duchov, alebo stránku o paranormálnych javoch. Alebo sa spýtajte ktoréhokoľvek pátrača “tradičních” duchov. Každý vám povie že existuje ešte oveľa záhadnejší fenomén, Shadow people alebo tieňové figúry v tvare ľudskej bytosti, ktoré sú často videné ako silueta s klobúkom.

Shadow people delíme na 3 hlavné skupiny:

Typ A – Vyskytuje sa ako malá, tmavá, hmlistá figúra. Väčšinou menšia ako 2 stopy, ale môžu sa náhle zväčšiť až do výšky 8 stôp.

Typ B – Vyskytuje sa ako veľká figúra hrubej, temne pevnej hromady hmly. Ich typická výška je od 2 do 8 stôp.

Typ C – Vyskytuje sa ako ľudská figúra, narozdiel od predchadzajúcich, ktoré sa môžu podobať na akúkoľvek inú bytosť. Často sú zjavené s klobúkom na hlave a ich veľkosť je väčšinou sú vyššie ako 8 stôp.

Jeden hlavný rozdiel medzi duchmi a Shadow people je že duchovia strašia väčšinou opakovane na jednom určitom mieste. Shadow people pôsobia iba kým niesú spozorovaní, po spozorovaní zmiznú.

Pod Shadow people sa môžu skrývať rôzne bytosti, tu sú možnosti:

a) Démoni
b) Mystické bytosti
c) Mimozemštania
d) Dimenzionálne presiaknutia
e) Interdimenzionálne bytosti
f) Duchovia
g) Astrálne entity
h) Cestovatelia časom
i) Vlastný tieň (keby bol niekto fakty idiot a zľakol sa svojho tieňa )

Podľa dnešných vysvetlení sú najčastejšie vyskytujúce sa typy c,d,e,g,h.

© English original by Edward O’ Toole
© Slovenský preklad, JŠ (Aistar)

“The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts“.

If we could only apply such sound advice to more important things in life than putting out a match with your finger and thumb..!

Murphy was an optimist.

O’Toole

The Best-Laid Plans by Randal O’Toole argues that the planning field in America is inefficient and ineffective: O’Toole tells us it’s simply not necessary.

His first focus is on something he knows well: Forest Planning. He spends the first 50 pages detailing how forestry planning does not work, and makes some great points: how can one predict tree growth, lumber prices, and demand in the years to come? How can one predict forest fires?  Being unfamiliar with the lumber industry, I took this chapter with more than a grain of salt.

Now I’m reading the second chapter, which is focused on urban planning. He rails against urban planners for over-simplifying and generalizing neighborhoods and uses and for having personal agendas without concern to the complex needs of the community; and he also accuses planners of fabricating and misusing statistics to get what they want.

One of his biggest examples was his claim that planners have stated that obesity is caused by sprawl. He writes that obesity has a correlation, not a causation, with sprawl, and that low income is a much larger and proven factor in obesity rates. I would never argue this. You have seen my many posts on walkability and fitness and how my own city living has caused my weightloss. But I would never claim that urban sprawl CAUSED obesity. I don’t think any planner with half a brain would claim this.

In effect, O’Toole is generalizing urban planners and making rash claims about them, while he argues that they generalize and make rash claims.

Another argument of his that bothered me was about community. He mocks Robert Putnam, author of Bowling Alone, for taking the fall of bowling leagues and steady rate of actual bowling to mean a decrease in community among Americans.  “It never occured to him  that people might be bowling with families and friends,” O’Toole writes. Wam, bam. Sticking the knife in Putnam’s argument. He ignores the fact that Putnam has followed up Bowling Alone with Better Together, a book full of stories of how communities have pulled together and started successful programs to solve their community’s specific problems.

He also fails to realize that of course families and friends hang out and go bowling, all the time, especially in suburbs, because suburbs were meant to isolate and idolize the nuclear family.

I whole-heartedly agree with O’Toole that community can happen in a strong way in suburbs, and he’s right that large cities have no neighborly relations (living in the Gold Coast for three months is my proof, you may be able to poke a hole in this).  He says public transit isn’t right for every area, that the strict New Urbanist guidelines put on development will be destructive in the long run. Again, truth to that. But shouldn’t Americans have a choice? I think we’d both ask this question. Shouldn’t a person be able to choose the bus over the car? Shouldn’t someone be able to walk to a store, or a church, or anything? If a planner sees people walking on the side of busy streets that have no sidewalks, why wouldn’t the planner just put sidewalks there?

I am not being clear if I totally agree or disagree with O’Toole. It’s because he has some good arguments, and a good new perspective on planning. I think he’s right: too much money and time go into failed governmental plans. It’s wasting our tax dollars. I’ve always been okay with raising taxes if it meant bettering the life of those who have no means to, but I never considered in detail how the government may be ill-spending tax money. It’s an important issue. It’s still not about getting the lowest taxes possible–it’s more about how little we know about how little planners know what they’re doing with the widespread, federal plans for a diverse, complex nation.

I just got a little bit more supportive of small government. Shouldn’t be a surprise with my LiveLittle motto, I guess!

“That don’t impress me much“, vorba Shaniei Twain. De ce?
Pentru că:

1. … deşi aceste premii se acordă prin vot de către Academia de Artă şi Ştiinţă Cinematografică din SUA, ele se acordă unor produse ale industriei cinematografice. Deci de obicei nu e vorba despre artă, ci despre marketing pe gustul omului de pe stradă.

2. … există o singură categorie pentru filme neamericane. Să fim serioşi, chiar dacă în SUA industria şi uneori chiar arta cinematografică au o dezvoltare excepţională, mai sunt mulţi oameni creativi pe planetă şi în alte părţi.

3. … li se acordă o importanţă exagerată, cam ca fotbalului faţă de alte sporturi. Mai există şi alte arte! Sau iar începe vechea dispută dacă filmul e sau nu artă? Păi, e dacă-l faci să fie astfel.

4. … nu au primit niciodată vreun Oscar la categoriile din concurs următorii: Andrei Tarkovski, Peter O’Toole, Richard Burton, Cary Grant (pentru că nu avea contract cu vreunul din marile studiouri!), Steve McQueen, Deborah Kerr, Greta Garbo (şi lista ar putea continua). Unii dintre cei de mai sus au primit premii de milă, onorifice.

5. … Al Pacino are un singur premiu, alţii au prea multe (la unii, şi unul e prea mult).

“I’ve never looked for women. When I was a teenager, perhaps. But they are looking for us, and we must learn that very quickly. They decide. We just turn up. Never mind the superficialities — tall and handsome and all that. Just turn up. They will do the rest.”

É…

Eu tinha lido uma notícia sobre o assunto, mas achei que fosse invenção da imprensa, ou até engano, visto que existe o photoshop agora. Mas descobri que é verdade sim.

Daniel Radcliffe, ator que interpreta o personagem Harry Potter, foi flagrado com sua namorada em NY fumando. O fato já tinha sido polêmica, visto que na peça Equus, da qual o ator participa, ele se envolve com cigarros. Mas agora é realidade, e eu estou decepcionado com ele: alguém que conseguiu realizar o sonho de milhões de crianças, como eu, de interpretar o personagem mais badalado da década, se degradar ao ponto de partir pros cigarros? Eu já o achava um ridículo, apesar de atuar muito bem, mas agora eu tenho nojo dele. Aqui as fotos que provam de onde vem a fumaça:

"USS YORKTOWN AT THE BATTLE OF MIDWAY" BY ANTHONY SAUNDERS. THE YORKTOWN WAS LOST IN THE BATTLE. SHE IS DEPICTED UNDER ATTACK BY JAPANESE TORPEDO BOMBERS. ALSO PICTURED IS ONE OF HER DESTROYERS, THE USS HAMMANN.

GOONEY BIRDS LIKE THESE INHABITED MIDWAY ISLAND

A RECENT AERIAL VIEW OF MIDWAY ISLAND

By JOHN R. BAKER

CHAPTER NINE: THE  COVETED SUBMARINE SET OF DOLPHINS

 

I was one of the “new guys” who had to qualify as soon as possible.  Pressure was put on all of us to become qualified on our first fun.  This was #1 priority so that we would become as useful as we could be.  We were required to study and memorize all sections of our boat.  This meant the tanks, the pipes, the hydraulics, the trim system, the torpedoes and how to fire them, the engine rooms, the battery compartments, the armaments, and of course, the diving procedures.  So, until dinner time, unless we were at battle stations or otherwise pre-occupied, all of us new swabbies were kept prowling around the ship.  We helped one another by quizzing each other.  I don’t think anyone lasted two patrols without earning the coveted  dolphins.  When they were sewed on your right forearm sleeve you became a submariner!

By this time I could sleep right through the loud OO-GAH of the diving Klaxon no matter how close it was to my bunk.  (As a radioman, I had no direct diving responsibility.)  But the BONG BONG BONG of the battle stations alarm would have me scurrying by the second BONG!

In hotter parts of the Pacific we all learned to run around in just our skivvy drawers and sandals.  There was one fast rule, though.  No one could come to chow without a tee shirt.

Thankfully, we rarely had to do what’s called “silent running.”  That’s when pursuers are in close proximity and we’d be in danger of being detected by sound emanations.  We weren’t supposed to make any noise lest the close-by enemy could hear us.  All air conditioning, fans or other unnecessary noisemakers were squelched.  In areas with hot climates it was very uncomfortable.  We all wore towels around our necks to try to control the sweat.  Nevertheless, the linoleum deck would get oily and slippery.  All crew not absolutely conning the boat were required to stay very quiet.

During our first patrol we were in Philippines waters the whole  time and the enemy had beau-coup planes patrolling during daylight.  But also at this time there was a plentiful number of Japanese ships in the area.  They thought that they could drive us away!  Ha.  Night time was our chance to howl.  We always dove for the day before sunrise.  Of course this meant we couldn’t surface until after dark.  We always spent 12 to 14  hours submerged.  Eventually the oxygen level in our sewer pipe drops low.  Hard to keep a cigarette or a match lit.  Always a relief to surface and get those first breaths of fresh air.  I recall during that first patrol I didn’t see any daylight for about 60 days.  Once in a while we could climb to the bridge at night for fresh air, but it always had to be in darkness.

During our first two patrols we spotted at least two Japanese submarines.  In both cases they spotted us at about the same time.  We both did what submarines do best.  We both dove.  Out there another sub is considered a prime target, but we never did get to shoot at one.

On January 16, 1945, during the second patrol, we receive a report from headquarters – ComSubPac – regarding the position of a life-raft with a single survivor.  Later, we received a second report, this time 60 miles closer to us at the same latitude.  An American pilot reported dropping a raft to “several survivors, one injured”  We never found anything, and really, the position of the survivors was never  definitely established.  We were able to reach both of the first two reported positions, only to be told the positions were in error.  Frustrating.  This sort of thing happened more than once and never did we rescue Americans, but we sure tried our best.

After refueling at Saipan once more, on February 28, 1945, we headed for Midway Island, where we arrived on March 8, 1945.  This was the conclusion of O’Toole’s second patrol.

The famous “Gooney Birds” of Midway Island were there to greet us when we landed on the atoll.  The birds nested in the sand all over the place and were considered a danger to planes taking off.  A 27-second video of Gooney Birds dancing is added here: http://flickr.com/photos/x0jaderaven0x/2547756258/

THE COVETED SUBMARINE SET OF DOLPHINS

This was to be our second island rest camp, but wasn’t nearly as “South Sea Island” as Majuro.  There wasn’t a  tree to be seen.  After a nice greeting when we tied up to the huge dock section, we moved our gear to a Quonset hut in the submarine rest area. 

Midway is a circular atoll six miles in diameter.  It consists of two islands with a total area of two square miles.  It was named Midway because it lies about half way between California and Japan.  The Navy, in 1940, began to build both an  air and a submarine base at Midway.  The Battle of Midway fought June 3-6, 1942 was considered the turning point  of the battle in the Pacific.  On exploring our new temporary home we were amazed to see the signs of the major battles that were fought here.  At least one PT boat was still pulled up on the beach and just left there all shot up.  Bullet holes in a lot of the structures testified to the extensiveness of the fight.  Four Japanese  carriers were lost in large part because the U.S. was able to compromise the enemy code.  This had definitely been an air battle in which the ships on both side did not get really close to one another. 

On Midway, we had the usual routine.  Ate, slept, explored and drank beer when the beer garden was open.  I can remember being impressed with the beautiful movie theater and the well-stocked  ship’s service.  Supplies and mail were flown in daily from Honolulu and I even got to see Robert Taylor, the movie star, land his DC-4.

Up until then, I had never been up in an airplane.  Every day a  transport type plane  scouted all around the island just in case the enemy had some clever attack in mind.  At the airport I found out the plane would be up at least eight hours, so I opted out.  Up until then, whenever  we made day trips in Atule, fly-fly boys (military aviators)  always came along just so they could dive on a submarine.  Surprisingly enough, by the time we’d get to our diving zone they’d be sound asleep in  our forward torpedo room.  Not too thrilling, I’m sure.

One thing I wish I’d done though while I was at Midway was to have gone  deep sea fishing.  The Navy ran  regular trips after some really great fish.  I’ve kicked myself more than once because I passed up a great opportunity.  But  now the time was  running out and we’d soon be on our way to our next patrol.

Photo Credits:

Gooney birds (photo by deleware kathy on flickr.com)

Aerial view of Midway Island (photo by precisionartists on flickr.com)

“USS Yorktown at the Battle of Midway” (art by Anthony Saunders)

AN ARTIST'S RENDERING OF A SUBMERGED BALAO CLASS DIESEL SUBMARINE LIKE THE ATULE

By JOHN R. BAKER

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE SECOND WAR PATROL OF USS ATULE

14 January 1945.  Time 0900.  Underway from Saipan, fully refueled and restocked.  Accompanied by USS Spadefish (SS-411), USS Bang (SS-385) and USS Devilfish (SS-292).  Our patrol destination is the Yellow Sea and the East China Sea.  We will spend 30 days in this area with a total of 62 days patrol duration.  By this time our wolf pack has regrouped to include the USS Spearfish (SS-190), the USS Pompon (SS-267) and us.

Before we enter the Yellow Sea and the frigid action of our second patrol, perhaps I should explain the jobs I had as a radioman.  The radio shack itself is quite small; only room for two chairs side by side along with radio transmitters from refrigerator size down to some as small as a phone book; also two typewriters and the code machine along with special supplies and related equipment.  Two men at a time stood four hours together.  Basically, one copied “Fox” and the other guarded the VHF frequency that allowed short range conversation between boats in the wolf pack and occasionally aircraft.

Incidentally, the controversial part of this second radioman’s job was to operate the aircraft radar detection receiver.  This was used to detect enemy planes which were using radar and closing in.  The problem with this was that to cover the wide range of frequencies used by the enemy we had to have up to four banks of separate coils to insert into the receiver one after the other so that the enemy’s searching could be detected.  One time when the radioman was involved with the VHF radio, he wasn’t able to operate the detector, too, and when he could get back to it we were almost surprised.  By the next patrol the radar detector was located in the control room where it belonged.  A lookout could run it and we weren’t surprised again.

Enemy planes never hesitated to  drop their bombs if they got the chance, but lucky for us they weren’t accurate.  Aircraft had been a real problem while they still controlled the Philippines, and it seemed we were up and down all night long.  Poor Bongiorno, the baker, he had to bake at night and you can imagine what pressure changes did to his products!

The Fox schedule was the method used to  send our orders from NPM radio Pearl Harbor.  At pre-directed times (if we had to stay submerged, we could stick an antenna above the surface), we would copy those five letter Morse groups so that on decoding them we could receive Admiral Lockwood’s orders.  These non-sensical words were run through the code machine and came out on a long tape as perfect English.  This was an efficient way for all subs to receive their orders.

My job, if I had watch when we dove, was to pull the antenna connectors from their attachments in the “trunk” which was a heavy duty bucket-sized compartment set into the overhead and then to seal this shut with a stout door so that it was pressure-proof.  Next, if our aircraft radar mast was extended, I would step out into the control room and lower it quickly so that it was secured.  After that, I would hurry to the forward torpedo room to supervise the lookouts who would operate the JP sound detection gear all the while we were submerged.

Now on our way west, going through the East China Sea and prior to entering the Yellow Sea we passed by the great Chinese city of Shanghai at night.  The “lovely” Yangtze River flows into the sea at that point.  Stink!  This whole area was really putrid and we wanted to get out of there pronto.  I was certain the place was bad enough to corrode our beautiful boat!  How could people live in such a place?  To enter the Yellow Sea, which separate China and Korea, we got the word that we would be passing through an area heavily sewn with mines.  Here I discovered that it paid to be ignorant.  So many of us were greenhorns, we had never been around any mines before.  A few of the “old salts” had been.  (Average age on O’Toole was 23-years-old.  The oldest man was Marchand, at 40.  Captain Jack was 34.)  So, I guess that’s why youngsters make good “soldiers” — they’re too dumb to realize what’s happening; too dumb to really be scared.  But some of the older guys knew the score.  I noted that a few of them were a bit shaky during that passage.  But we made it.

This was about the middle of January 1945, and it was so cold for the next month that we often dove just to melt the heavy layer of ice that formed all over the topside area.  If the hydraulic vents atop the main ballast tanks froze hard enough we wouldn’t be able to dive.  Lookouts could only stay at their posts atop the periscope shears for just a few minutes at a time, even though they were wearing extra heavy gear, including face masks.  I knew I was darn cold on watch even when I sat right over the electric heater in the radio shack.

We weren’t the only seagoing types out there cruising in the ice cakes.  I’d like to introduce a little bit of our log — dated 23 January — to show how O’Toole dealt with small wooden fishing boats and sampans which seemed to be well-dispersed all around.

Time 0746 — Sighted first of three sampans that effectively sabotaged our periscope observations by closing to 3,000 yards during morning.  Avoided only to close two sailboats who spoiled the afternoon.

Time 1931 — Radar contact on sampan, range 4,150 yards.  Changed to evasion course.

Time 1944 — Picked up two more sampans.

Time 2105 — Lost contact with last of total of five fishing boats.

My memory of operations prevailing at that time was that if the enemy small craft had a machine gun or an antenna in sight they were legitimate targets.  Maybe so, but we never attacked a target so small.  Captain Maurer would avoid any close contact, every time, with any but real Japanese targets.  Never did we fire at a spit kit.

24 February 1945.  1500.  Yellow Sea first attack, second patrol.  Sighted medium sized merchant ship at 21,000 yards.  (2,000 yards equals 6,000 feet or approximately one nautical mile.)  At periscope depth kept tracking target through snow and used our stern tubes and our Mk 18 electric fish since they had greater depth control than our steam fish.  The target appeared to be a brand new engines-aft freighter.  Set the depth at three feet and fired four torpedoes.  The first fish struck abreast of his stack and the second near his after mast.  The ship rapidly settled stern first as the crew quickly manned two motor life boats (one on each side).  Just as the life boats cleared, the damaged rear section broke off, taking the engine room with it.  The forward half popped  up like a cork, floating higher than ever.

About this time I heard that one of our lookouts shouted “Look, they’re sending blinker signals to us.”  Captain Jack answered: “Signals, hell!  He’s firing at us with his 40 mm cannon!”  So we dove and fired a steam torpedo at him.  We missed.  (Torpedo went under his bow.)  We had had shells exploding on either side of us, so we hastily left the immediate area and withdrew to decide our next move.  

Surprisingly, even machine gun bullets can sink a submarine!  For instance, holes in the top of our ballast tanks (outside of the pressure hull)  are very dangerous.  These tanks are not nearly as thick-walled as our pressure hull.  Holes in our ballast tanks would let air out of the to just the same as if we had opened the main vents.  We would dive but we couldn’t rise again.  Also, anything that damaged us so that we couldn’t dive would make us goners; we’d never get out of enemy waters if we couldn’t submerge.  Anyway, you get the idea.

After dark we went to battle stations, gun action, planning to use our five inch gun.  The deck was covered with ice.  The gun crew had trouble with their footing.  Loading the gun was difficulty because it was so slippery.  At 6,000 yards the order was given to “Commence firing.”  One shot went right over the target.  The gun recoiled from the firing, but did not return forward to be reloaded.  What caused this failure?  The extreme cold must have been the indirect cause.  This upset Captain Maurer to say the least.  We had used too many fish already.  One more steam torpedo would have to be used.  At a 3 degree setting it bounced along like a porpoise, but went straight to MOT.  As we retired northward we could see that the bow was down and the rear was sticking up.  Up to that point the ship had had excellent watertight integrity.

Heavy snow and blizzard conditions for the next few days.  Bitter cold.  Wind 25 to 30 knots with snow flurries and spray ice all over the topside.  On one of our quick dives to clear off the ice we were pooped as we surfaced.  The bridge hatch was quickly re-shut, so not very much water got into the boat.  Nasty weather.

We received a call from Pompon reporting a convoy.  All four engines went on line so that we could intercept.  The moon was full with scattered clouds.

28 January 1945.  0032.  Pompon reports attacking convoy from starboard.  Spadefish also reports attacking from starboard.  Next we heard explosions and sighted a smoke column.  At 0255 we observed a terrific explosion with a column of water high in the air.  Time 0345.  We are chasing a medium transport that is trying to reach shoal water on a westward course. Unfortunately we are not able to overtake prior to dawn.  Exchanged calls with Spadefish as she was standing by her victim, a ship observed to be burning from bow to stern.

Next, we commence criss-crossing the known Shanghai to the Empire shipping routes.  Our time will be spent patrolling all areas where enemy shipping might be expected.

We are now en route to a patrol station east of Hangchow Bay (what a name) and sighted our first floating mine about 30 miles southwest of Socotro Rock. In short order we sink five mines with our 30 caliber machine gun.  The sixth mine detonates.  Contact mines are about five feet or so across and have several horns sticking out of their perimeters.  Theoretically, when a horn is struck and broken, the mine explodes its hundreds of pounds of explosives. These mines were usually moored too the bottom at pre-set depth at the end of a cable attached to an anchor.  The areas where they were sewn were very often just where submarines were likely to travel.  The U.S. has been able to determine that seven of the 52 boats lost were destroyed by mines.  Only eight men were survivors of the USS Flier (SS-250).  On all the other boats all hands were lost.

Log of 30 January 1945.  The lucky O’Toole!  

0030.  Floating mine bounced disconcertingly down the port side of the ship, plainly heard by the bridge watch and officers seated in the wardroom.

5 February 1945.  In the interest of conserving our rapidly depleting supply of ammunition, since we have already dealt with 14 mines, we are approaching closer than the suggested 300 yards, so as to be more accurate.  We’re starting to recover shrapnel from our deck.  A photograph with this chapter shows what an “exploder” looks like.  The extreme acreage of floaters is believed to be the direct result of heavy seas we’ve been experiencing for the past several days.

Regarding the mine we hit on 30 January 1945: Thankfully this was another dud Japanese mine.  Not all of them exploded when they were “disturbed.”

Log of 6 February 1945:

0812.  Dived from “Emily” plane gliding at us from a position 3 miles away to 500 feet astern.  Received one distant bomb as we passed 90 feet.  He managed to break through a low overcast before we spotted him.  We surfaced in heavy snow squall and cleared the area for a reconnaissance of Korean coastal traffic.

Same day:

2032.  Commenced repairs to #4 main engine outboard exhaust valve.  Found valve disc  retaining pin had backed out permitting disc to drop off the operating arm into the bottom of the casing.  

[Note -- I didn't see it in the log but I seem to recall that MoMMC "Handsome John" Stringer did the welding over the side, in the dark of night, with welding flashes lighting up the whole area.]

We continued onward.  7 February 1945.  Surface patrol off southwest Korean coast.

0710.  Trim dive off OTO TO.

0751.  Nine depth charges in quick succession dropped by an unseen antagonist.  These were not close enough to really bother us, but weren’t so far as to have been directed at anyone else.

8 February 1945.

1115.  Made trim drive.  Enjoyed our noon meal on plates instead of laps. Continuing patrol.

12 February 1945:

1456.  Quartermaster-lookout sights either a fighter or dive-bomber in on starboard bow.  (Cloud cover was low and broken.  At this time we had double aircraft lookouts posted.)  We then made one of our snappiest four engine dives to date, so we must have been under in less than 30 seconds! Took two well-placed bombs, one at 75 feet and the second at 125 feet on his next pass.  We had been aware of an escort vessel — possibly a destroyer — out about 16,000 yards.  he had been acting suspiciously.  Now we could hear echo ranging closing our point of dive.  The whole thing appeared to be a well-coordinated “man and boy” combination so we upped to 2/3 speed and took evasive action.

Next the following occurred:

1812.  Five charges, none close.  echo ranging has disappeared.

1830.  Four charges.

1852.  Five charges.

1911.  Surfaced.  Aircraft radar signal at 155 mcs.

1935.  Signal very strong.  Dived.

1942.  Two explosions.  Not close.  Hoe he bombed  his own surface ship.

1956.  Surfaced.  Hurried to close the Korean Coast.

16 February 1945:

We are headed north on four engines towards reported battleship group.

18 February 1945:

En route Daikokuzan at best speed to intercept new battleship position. Next, and this was almost bad.  Struck mine with a jar that turned out a good percentage of ship’s complement.  It first hit near the stem, then it bounced several times down the side, busily exploring our limber holes with its horns. 

[Note -- At the Albuquerque convention our captain told the wives they should appreciate having us.  Guess you'd have to ask them.)

18 February 1945 (continued):

1857.  We had covered 850  miles during our futile, almost fatal, chase of this elusive battleship task group.

20 February 1945:

Received instructions from ComSubPac to proceed to rest camp at Midway after putting in at Saipan for diesel fuel.

Ah, rest camp.  We’re certainly ready for it.  The ship we sank in the Yellow Sea assured that we would be credited as having had a “successful patrol.”  This patrol we had destroyed a total of 28 mines.  We were lucky with that last one.  Now is a good time to reminisce about our daily existence aboard the good old Atule while we were on war patrol.  I certainly can’t say I ever got blase about life on a submarine, especially after only two patrols.  All of us tended to adapt to the routine as day after day we stood our watches.  Four hours on duty and then eight hours off.  Now, this didn’t mean that we were as free as a breeze when off watch.  Oh, no.  My own watch was from 8 a.m. to 12 p.m. and then 8 p.m. to midnight.  Always at noon we had field day.  This meant that most of us had  to “turn to” on a specific part of the ship so that each section was bright and shiny and ready for inspection daily.  I can still recall the order.  At 12 noon we would hear the click of the IMC (the ship-wide announcing system) as the switch was depressed.  Always the same, those memorable words: “All hands.  Turn to and clean up the ship.”  My daily section was the passageway in the control room next to the radio room.  After that we could get our lunch.  At least on the first run there was plenty to do on the rest of our “off watch.”

Art Credit:

Submerged submarine artwork (subsim.com)

TASK FORCE 58 CARRIERS, BATTLESHIPS AND DESTROYERS AT REST AT MAJURO ATOLL AFTER RAIDS THROUGHOUT THE CENTRAL PACIFIC IN FEBRUARY 1944

A MAP OF MAJURO ATOLL FROM A MAP COLLECTION TITLED: “PACIFIC ISLANDS 1943-1945″

AN AERIAL VIEW OF MAJURO ATOLL DURING THE WAR IN THE PACIFIC

MAJURO ATOLL’S LOCATION WITHIN THE MARSHALL ISLANDS

By JOHN R. BAKER

CHAPTER SEVEN: REST CAMP AT MAJURO ATOLL

Majuro provided a great three weeks of rest.  Our island was what we all had visualized a South Seas island would be.  We stayed in Quonset huts, ate very good food, had beer garden every afternoon and just enjoyed the brilliant white sand beaches and the tropical palm trees.  What a place it would make for a luxury resort!

The water was so clear a person could easily see 50 feet down to the bottom which was crowded with brilliant fish of all kinds.  All the while we “rested” the repair crews on the USS Bushnell (AS-15) were overhauling our ailing engine and fixing everything that needed to be put back in first class fighting trim.  It was also our good fortune to be at Majuro for Christmas.  The Red Cross had some fellows there who put on a welcome Christmas program and even handed out gifts to everyone.

Coming in to a rest camp area was a very special occasion for submarines after patrols.  First of all, for the obvious reason — we had made it back safely — but also because of the warm welcome we received.  Immediately upon securing our lines we would become the recipients of boxes of fresh fruit — oranges and apples (some of the latter being from my state of Washington, in boxes marked “Chelan” or “Wenatchee”).  We had been out so long that we had used up every bit of “fresh” food we had taken to sea!  Most important of all, we were given all of our accumulated mail.  The whole crew would be spread out topside, sitting everywhere, eating fresh fruit and reading all the precious mail from home — always in chronological order so we could keep events in proper perspective.

We had heard that earlier boats also used to get big cans of  ice cream delivered to them, but we on Atule had our own machine, so we were never short.  Incidentally, our cooks always made vanilla, so when I pleaded for chocolate, guess what, I became the “Captain of the Flavors.”  At least I could mix up my choice. 

After this happy greeting, we all got careful physicals.  Here we were examined and set up for dental work, etc., on the sub tender.  We all even  got a private chat with the psychiatrist.  “Do you want to stay on the submarine?”  We had men who suffered from chronic sea-sickness and lost a lot of weight while we were at sea.  They could have bagged  it,  but so far as I know they all plead their case and were able to fatten up in rest camp and stay with the crew.  I thought that to be real dedication on their part.

Standing watch with a bucket between your knees is a bit of a chore.  I know at least two of my shipmates had to do just that almost as soon as our lines were cast off.  Luckily, I wasn’t bothered, at least back in those days, so that was a blessing I appreciated, at least when I saw how miserable seasickness was. 

At last our days of swimming in the warm tropical waters and gathering exotic shells came to an end.  We would soon be “off to war” but first O’Toole had to be tested to make sure everything was ready for action.  We conducted our training exercises from 28 December 1944 to 3 January 1945 including wolfpack exercises with USS Spadefish, USS Pompon and USS Jallao.  We finally left Majuro, “good-by forever” and headed for Saipan to refuel.  The group’s escort left us and we all started through the Total Bombing Restricted Lane, i.e., American planes are not to bomb anything traveling in this restricted area.  About 1600 we observed the Spadefish dive and receive two aerial bombs from low-flying TDBs.  Pompon, next in line, also dove.  We managed to identify ourselves when the range had closed to a half mile.  Spadefish surfaced and informed the rest of us that only his spirit had been damaged.  Situations like this were not unusual.  Our submarines were leery of everything they saw in order to preserve their health.  14 January.  Moored alongside USS Fulton in Tanapag Harbor, Saipan.  Refueling. 

Photo and Map Credits:

Marshall Islands map (Lonely Planet Publications)

Aerial photo of Majuro Atoll (US Navy Photo from the Collection of Ken Butterfield)

Map of Majuro Atoll (Perry-Castaneda Library Map Collection, University of Texas at Austin)

Task Force 58 warships (US Navy Photo from the Collection of Ken Butterfield)

SITE OF THE SINKING OF THE MS ASAMA MARU IN THE SOUTH CHINA SEA. THE SHIP WAS SUNK ABOUT 270 MILES SOUTHEAST OF HONG KONG AND ABOUT 100 MILES SOUTH OF THE ISLAND OF PRATAS

By JOHN R. BAKER

CHAPTER SIX: OUR FIRST WAR PATROL

It is now late summer of 1944.  We have at last traversed the Panama Canal and finally realize that the war in the Pacific against the Imperial Japanese Navy is the next item on our agenda.  All the way to the Hawaiian Islands area we trained steadily, in company with the USS Jallao (SS-368).  Drills pertaining to flooding, fires and other emergencies.  We practiced over and over the things we planned to do for real once we were in enemy waters.  These tests were ordered night and day by our skipper.  Special emphasis was made on our diving procedure due to the inexperience of most of our officers.  We practiced night surface, radar depth, submerged attacks constantly.  Lookouts got a lot of practice in sighting periscopes as we took turns practicing with Jallao.  The tracking party, i.e. those who would actually send our torpedoes into the enemy, got to be very good, and it paid off, because later on our torpedoes were dependable and accurate!

By mid-September of 1944, O’Toole reached Sub-base Pearl and reported to Com Sub Pac Vice Admiral Charles Lockwood, known as Uncle Charlie, but not by enlisted men.  More training close to the islands and last minute improvements to the boat itself made us at last ready in all respects for action.  On October 9, 1944, we left Pearl and headed for our first war patrol.  We were headed for the South China sea area in company with USS Jallao and USS Pintado (SS-387).  We were a wolfpack of three.  (One of our crew put the first initials of the boat’s names together and got J. A. P.)  Add the word “PATROL” and that’s what we were.  The wolfpack tactic was a skillfully contrived German concept whereby a group of submarines, operating mainly on  the surface, reinforced one another both by scouting the enemy and coordinating attacks.  This maneuver covered many more square miles of ocean, and even though our boats weren’t in sight of one another, we kept in close  touch using the newer VHF radio. 

Early during the war, U.S. Submarines successfully employed this plan for the test of the war.  The American invasion of the Philippines began while we were headed West, and we soon found ourselves involved.  Many Japanese warships and transporters were in the area as the enemy desperately tried to repel the American landings.  Atule was able to spot a Japanese light cruiser and notified the rest of  our pack.  Jallao drew first blood!  She sank the light cruiser.  A few days later our turn arrived.  On Halloween night, 1944, while we were on the surface, we sank a large troop transport that was headed to Leyte Gulf.  She was the Asama Maru, a former ocean passenger liner.  Several escorts accompanied the victim, so we promptly submerged.  Soon they started depth charging, to the detriment of the swimming survivors, I’m sure, but they never came very close to us.  Incidentally, in later attacks we always fired our torpedoes while we were surfaced,  and we never dived as part of the attack.  We thought of ourselves as a Navy ship which could fight on the surface and had the ability to submerge if necessary.  The enemy ship probably carried 3,000 to 5,000 troops, and the sound of that huge ship breaking us as she sank into the depths will never be forgotten.

Perhaps I should mention that our last contact with America was always the island of Saipan where we would rendezvous with the anchored submarine tender USS Fulton (AS-11).  Here we conducted refueling, either preparatory to heading out to the fighting zone or on our way back on our way to rest camp.  We would get three weeks between patrols.  Our first visit to Tanapag Harbor and  to Saipan October 21, 1944 was an eye-opener to the effects of battle for most of us.  The initial  Marine landings had been made  in June of 1944 on the 71 square mile island following the strategy of  occupying “stepping stones” towards the home  islands of Japan.  While Atule was refueling and loading last-minute stores the crew all got to go ashore for a beer party.  All of us loaded into small boats and accompanied by armed Marines we headed to solid ground.  That sandy beach was unbelievable.  Not a tree left in sight, just shattered stumps, none over about three feet high.  Trash of all kinds, especially a myriad of sake bottles — thousands of sake bottles — as well as all of the smashed and wrecked military junk you could imagine.  I even saw a chromed bread toaster amongst all that stuff!  We were given strict orders not to collect any souvenirs because of the possibility of booby traps.

And now, a word about our beer.  I may be giving away a military secret, but during the D-Day landings in June 1944, some of the small landing crafts were loaded with G.I. issue canned beer.  Some of them hadn’t made the beach and scuba divers had to go down to collect the olive-drab cans in gunny sacks.  Yep, our ration of two cans was starting to rust and were all coated with sand.  I’ll never forget the brand — Fishbach — because I was immediately hit with the worst headache I’ve ever had before or since.  The blinding sun and G.I. beer, after two weeks inside a dark submarine, was more than my delicate nature could stand.

Saipan still was not secure, quite a few of the enemy were still above us on the hillside, in caves.  It was here that I saw my first-ever helicopter patrolling along the beach, and also Navy fighter planes firing rockets into the caves.  Later on, we saw that those same uplands had been made into an American cemetery.  When you look at 4,000 white crosses you will always be able to realize the meaning of casualties.  Two of my Marine cousins from Minnesota, whom I had never met, are in that place.

But now we are well into our patrol and having success.  Statistically, our first patrol lasted 63 days, and Atule recorded 11 hits from the 22 torpedoes fired during four separate attacks resulting in  the sinking of five major enemy ships.

At this time I should mention that not all of the torpedoes fired during an attack are expected to connect.  No,  the idea is to fire a spread, usually four to six torpedoes, depending on the target’s size, so there is an overlap.  The first and the last shot may miss at the bow or the stern, but at least one torpedo should strike M.O.T. (Middle of Target) for the most  productive damage.  Eleven out of 22 is considered pretty good.  Of the six fired at Asama Maru, two and possibly three struck the enemy.  At least she went down in about four minutes.  With a well trained tracking party, one of the overlaps just might collect an escort even if it missed the main target.  Our tracking was pretty good, and later on we did just that! 

Our second successful attack occurred on November 20, 1944.   At about 3:30 a.m. our SJ radar picked up a good pip at about six miles.  After determining that it was an enemy ship, we commenced tracking.  Enemy was identified as a destroyer.  At around 5 a.m. we fired four fish from our stern tubes.  The first struck with a terrific explosion at about his forward stack.  Two and one-half minutes later his stern reared straight up and he slid under.  His depth charges kept going off as he plunged deeper and deeper into the depths.  No survivors. 

The very next evening one of the lookouts spotted the lights of a properly marked hospital ship.  Had him in sight for quite awhile.  He was probably headed for Singapore and was making  about 12 knots.  Of course, he never knew we were in the vicinity and  had a close eye on him.

Up until now, on this patrol, we had had over 20 aircraft contacts.  Some very close.  We avoided many of them and didn’t always dive, but those planes from the Philippines had radar so consequently we frequently did have to submerge as they keyed on us.  We even had some of their planes covering our VHF wolfpack frequencies and asking us in good English to “Come in please.”

On the afternoon of November 24, 1944, Atule detected echo ranging  on  a bearing of 200 degrees True.  By  1400 we had four ships in sight and we went to battle stations torpedo.  This would be our third attack on this  patrol.  Tracking showed this group  of four ships to consist of a large transport with a  destroyer covering the starboard bow, a patrol  craft on the port bow and another destroyer trailing astern.  A group of small islands was nearby, and if they could  zig-zag through them until daylight, we would be snookered.  It was now or never!  We eased in or the starboard flank jockeying for a good set-up at the transport and the destroyer.  Flat, calm water for a change, and still they didn’t spot us!  After more  careful tracking, Captain Maurer announced : “The near D.D. (destroyer) and the transport overlap.  Commence shooting.”  As the bow torpedoes headed towards the target,  Atule swung about so our stern tubes would bear.  By timing with a stopwatch, the order of hits could be calculated.  Torpedoes three and four hit the destroyer, which literally exploded into a funeral pyre.  Nothing was left but fuel oil burning on the water.  A few more seconds and # two hit the big transport followed by # seven.  The transport stopped dead in the water mortally wounded and then went  under in  less than 10 minutes.  This was a classic shot, i.e., two successive targets destroyed in one barrage.  The remaining Japanese escorts made a rapid search, fired a sporadic burst of gunfire, then dropped several depth charges, but in the wrong area.  As it turned out, we weren’t able to get a shot at them,  so as soon as we lost radar contact we secured from battle stations.  I felt elated, for on  our very first patrol we seemed to be having great success.

Our final attack on this patrol was a bit different from what I imagined was a practical tactic.  On November 27, 1944, after midnight, we made a good radar contact and went to battle stations.  We were close to two small  islands.  When we approached, we identified a ship anchored at the northern end of the channel  between the islands.  Four shots remained in the bow tubes on this patrol and we would not be denied.  Morning light would soon be coming and w didn’t want to wait much longer.  Captain Maurer ordered everything made ready with four  torpedoes set at 0 degree angle, i.e., all to track straight ahead.  Our helmsman, Russell Miller, Gunners Mate Third Class, would direct the fish by swinging our bow across the target from left to right as the torpedoes left their tubes.  Thus, each torpedo was sent on a different bearing along the enemy hull.  Conditions were perfect and all torpedoes hit, one after another, and a gigantic fire erupted.  She was aflame from bow to stern and heeled over as the stern settled to the bottom.  We turned 180 degrees and headed away at full speed.  Oh,  did I mention that there were a couple of escorts in the vicinity?  Our reversing maneuver got us out of there in a hurry, and, as we had fired all our fish, we couldn’t go after them.  Using our five inch deck gun was a possibility, but not a good one as the odds were against us.  The target burned for over an hour and lit up the sky with explosions on six different occasions.  Finally, when we were about 18 miles away came the last and most brilliant explosion which blew the charred remains to bits.  I was one of the crew allowed to come to the bridge one at a time to take a look at our accomplishment.

About a half hour later the # two main engine  went  out of service with a sheared lock plate on the vertical drive.  We had no spares for repair, but Atule had three more main engines plus a “dinky” for additional battery charging power.  We were okay for now.  On December 2, 1944, we moored alongside the USS Fulton at Saipan and commenced  refueling.  Next day our executive officer, LCDR R. Bowers, was detached to become a PCO (Prospective Commanding Officer) and was replaced by LCDR Paul Schratz.  We headed out of Saipan that same morning on our way to our first rest camp — Majuro Atoll.  Looking at the charts we found Majuro was a circle of islands surrounding a deep harbor.  A whole Naval Fleet had been assembled there earlier before the attack on Saipan, but the ships were all gone now.  We had our very own island.  The natives had all been moved to their own island and we never saw them.  We went back and forth to the sub tender in whale boats; there were no permanent dock installations on the island.

___________________________________________________________

DECORATIONS AWARDED FOR THE  FIRST PATROL

The Atule departed station with four ships sunk and one completely destroyed with a grand total of 26,700 tons of enemy shipping destroyed.

The following  awards were presented for this First War Patrol:

NAVY CROSS — Commander John H. MAURER, USN, NW Washington, DC

SILVER STAR — Lieut. Comdr. Richard H. BOWERS, USN, Annapolis, MD; Lieut. Hollis F. CHURCH, Jr., USNR, South Windsor, CT; Burdell R. CARTER, TM1c, SS, USN, Chicago, IL

BRONZE STAR — Lieut. Jack _. Hudson, USNR, Marfa, TX; Lt. (jg) Charles W. PETTIT, USNR, Bloomfield, IA; Norman L. FREEMAN, CRM, USN; John S. STRINGER, CMo__, USN, Sand, TX

LETTERS OF COMMENDATION WITH RIBBON — Lt (jg) Glenn O. OLSON, USNR, Armarillo, TX; Lt (jg) Frederick A. OYHUS, USNR, Akron, OH; Davis M. McLANE, CEM, USN, San Diego, CA; Grant T. Humphrey, T_1c, USN, Long Island City, NY; Thomas E. COREY, MoMM1c, USN, lEWISTON, ME; Harold G. HALM, QM2c(T), USNR, Salem, OR; Estel E. LUDLOW, TME3c, USNR, Alexandria, IN

SUBMARINE COMBAT INSIGNIA — To all officers and men.

___________________________________________________________                             

1.     The USS Atule — THE SUBMARINE COMBAT INSIGNIA has been awarded the Navy Unit Commendation for service during the following period(s): 9 October to 11 December 1944.

2.     In accordance with reference (a) the following men, by virtue of their service in this unit during one or more of the above periods, are hereby authorized to wear the Navy Unit Commendation Ribbon transmitted herewith:

CREW OF U.S.S. ATULE (SS-403)

3.     This authorization has been made a part of the official record of the personnel concerned.

By direction of Chief of Naval Personnel

__________________________________________________________

SUBMARINE FORCE, PACIFIC FLEET

6 January 1945

FF12-10/A16-3(15) — Serial: 060 — Care of Fleet Post Office — San Francisco, CA — CONFIDENTIAL – THIS REPORT WILL BE DESTROYED PRIOR TO ENTERING  PATROL AREA — THIRD ENDORSEMENT to Atule Report of First War Patrol — COMSUBPAC PATROL REPORT NO. 620 — U.S.S. ATULE — FIRST WAR PATROL

From: The Commander Submarine Force, Pacific Fleet; To: The Commander in Chief, United States Fleet; Via: The Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet

Subject: USS Atule (SS-403) — Report of First War Patrol (9 October to 11 December 1944)

1.     The first war patrol of the ATULE, under the command of Commander John H. Maurer, U.S. Navy, was conducted in the Luzon Straits — South China Sea Area.  The ATULE along with USS JALLAO (SS-368) and the USS PINTADO (SS-387), formed a coordinated attack group with the Commanding Officer of the PINTADO as the group commander.

2.     During this outstanding patrol, the first for the ATULE, excellent area coverage was maintained, and numerous valuable targets were contacted.  Enemy anti-submarine measures, particularly radar equipped night flying planes were intense.  The ATULE, however, displayed a cool aggressiveness worthy of a veteran submarine in developing contacts and delivering four successful torpedo attacks which resulted in five enemy ships being sent to the bottom.

3.     Award of Submarine Combat Insignia for this patrol is authorized.

4.     The Commander Force, Pacific Fleet, congratulates the Commanding Officer, Officers, and crew for this outstanding first patrol.  The ATULE is credited with having inflicted the following damage upon the enemy during this patrol:

SUNK

1 Large AP (EU) — 10,000 tons (Attack No. 1); 1 DD (HATSUHARU Type)(EC) — 1,400 tons (Attack No. 2); 1 Large AP (EU) — 10,000 tons (Attack No. 3); 1 DD (MUTSUKI Type)(EC) — 1,300 tons (Attack No. 3); 1 Medium AK (EU) — 4,000 tons (Attack No. 4) — TOTAL SUNK: 26,000 tons.

s/ C. A. LOCKWOOD, Jr.

Distribution and authentication on following sheet; THE ENTIRE REPORT CONTAINED HEREIN DOWNGRADED TO UNCLASSIFIED.  AUTH: DOD 52009 (9-2)

___________________________________________________________

Photo Credits:

xxx

AN EXAMPLE OF A MONKEY'S FIST

By JOHN R. BAKER

CHAPTER FIVE: WHAT THE HECK’S A MONKEY’S FIST?

When O’Toole got to Pearl Harbor she had a wonderful collection of monkey’s fists stowed in her gear locker.  We had just come westward through the Panama Canal.  (I’m certain after 60 years the statute of limitations has expired, so I’ll tell you more.) 

Now, a monkey’s fist is made from a chunk of lead intricately wrapped with light line to about the size of a baseball, and thus it can  be accurately tossed from pier to boat or vice-versa.  Next, a hawser is affixed to the line and then the whole thing can be hauled back to the thrower.  In this way the linehandlers moved us through the Panama Canal from lock to lock position as the funny little lock locomotives connected with our cleats and pulled us along.

We knew Panama Canal monkey fists were probably the world’s best — after all, so many of them were made!  Anyhow, when a fist and line crashed down on our deck — snick–snick — one more  prime piece of ground tackle joined our collection before the hawser could be bent  on.  This turned out to be our very best source of supply.  Of course, being a left arm rate, I was merely an observer, not a line handler.  I can still hear those lock workers, wishing all of us bon voyage and smooth sailing.

Hidden and hardy life

Despite it’s harsh climate – in places reaching 45 degrees with very little rain – the outback is home to many and varied wildlife including kangaroos, dingoes, camels, brumbies (wild horses), snakes, geckos, an assortment of birds and a wide variety of hardy plant life.

Although a formidably big, hot and empty space, within the outback of Australia lies a hidden beauty and ancient life force.

Hello, i am Sean Terry O´toole this is my personal blog I enjoy the afternoons
with good music and beer, I live in Ireland for now, im thinking about moving
to Australia or maybe New Zealand because I have relatives and friends around the
world, I was on jail for stealing information from my job in a large company
of computers, something like hacking, but in a small scale I enjoy the The Risc and
other stuff like that.

“Oricine poate sa gateasca, dar numai cei neinfricati pot deveni foarte buni”. Acesta este sloganul filmului in care Remy, un sobolan cu un miros foarte bine dezvoltat, invata tainele artei culinare dintr-o carte a unui bucatar de 5 stele pe nume Auguste Gusteau. Acesta are ocazia sa-si demonstreze talentul in bucataria propriului Gusteau, cand face echipa cu Linguini, angajat de curand ca “femeie de serviciu”. Preparatele lui Remy sunt un adevarat succes, captand atentia intregului Paris, facandu-l pe Linguini celebru.

Sobolani si mancare, o da, foarte buna combinatia, nu ca as fi eu mai conservator dar… treaba asta nu prea promoveaza igiena. Hmmm… sunati la OPC. Ciudata idee au avut astia de la Disney/Pixar sau poate ca tocmai este poanta (morala) filmului, adica un sobolan care nu are ce cauta in bucatarie se pricepe foarte bine la gatit. Lasand la o parte aspectul igienic al filmului, acesta mi-a placut deci spor la vizionat pentru cei interesati.
Din distributie fac parte: Patton Oswalt (Remy), Ian Holm (Skinner), Peter O’Toole (Anton Ego).
imdb rating: 8.2/10 (merita 8.5)
imdb link: Ratatouille ( 2007 )

Trailer:

I’m exhausting just thinking about this weekend, and it hasn’t even started yet! Apparently Austin does Labor Day big.

The highlight: Sunday night’s Nike Human Race.

6:30pm, a million people across the world will be running a 10K. In Austin, our course is a tough one–lots of hills–but pretty, through downtown, campus, the capitol area. And the last mile or so is downhill! Hooray! Afterwards, Ben Harper plays. They’re still looking for volunteers, so head to the website if you’re interested in being part of a huge global event!

Also on Sunday: The most ridiculous country music lineup to hit Austin in years plays in Waterloo Park, yes, super-close to the Ben Harper show at the Capitol. Party in the Park is an absolutely jam-packed $32.50 ticket: Pat Green headlines, with Cory Morrow, Jack Ingram, Ryan James, Brandon Rhyder, and Rich O’Toole. The least famous of the six is a major up-and-comer in the Texas country scene. I’m telling you, it’s worth sitting outside the gates in your sweaty Nike gear to hear these guys!

There’s also Bat Fest on South First, and south of the river they’ll be staging for the Austin Tri Monday morning … Austin is so busy!

On Saturday, UT obviously has its home opener. Everyone I know will be tailgating, making it into the game is secondary. For non-fans, Bicycle Sport Shop hosts a Margarita Ride:

Meet at the Pfluger Bridge at 6:15pm and ride with us to Happy Hour at the Rio Grande Mexican Restaurant.

Happy Hour: 6:45 til 8pm

Free appetizers

$2 Drafts – $5 Margaritas

First 50 riders at the bridge get a free drink ticket.

GO BY BIKE!

And then there’s Monday. Free Day of Yoga. You’ll probably need it if your weekend shapes up to be anything like mine … party Friday, volleyball and tailgating Saturday, volleyball and running Sunday … stretch me out! I haven’t heard of a yoga studio in Austin that ISN’T doing it, but there’s a schedule on the website if you want to make sure you can find your fave. I recommend checking out Bikram at Davenport or YogaGroove!

“Stella del mattino è pura fiction”

In parte editori di se stessi, con libri che diventano in rete dei veri e propri progetti, con appendici di ogni tipo e altro materiale che si accumula intorno, il collettivo Wu Ming assiste al debutto come romanziere del suo numero 4 . S’intitola Stella del mattino, in copertina campeggia Lawrence d’Arabia, personaggio mitico e ambiguo “con cui non ci si immedesima ma si dialoga”, nel libro al centro di una storia particolare, un crocevia di destini già consumati dalla prima guerra mondiale e di ambizioni intellettuali da verificare.

Stella del mattino è ambientato a Oxford contrariamente a quanto ci si potrebbe aspettare, parlando di Lawrence

La scelta di Oxford, negli anni 1919/20, è precisa. Mi interessava la storia delle sue imprese vista però al momento del rientro quando Lawrence, un eroe ma anche un personaggio intricato e in parte patologico, deve fare i conti con la sua fama e col trauma post bellico. Il centro di Oxford è un compact di storia britannica, John Donne, Newton, Wilde. Intorno a Lawrence e a questa storia si muovono grandi nomi in erba, tutti giovani reduci dalla prima guerra mondiale: il poeta Robert Graves che provò a mettere in versi l’orrore delle trincee, J. R. Tolkien, che nel conflitto perse due cari amici, C. L. Lewis, autore del ciclo fantasy delle Cronache di Narnia. Tutti interessati allo studio del mito e alla ricerca personale di una strada, poetica o accademica.

Come nasce la scelta di concentrarsi sul personaggio di Lawrence d’Arabia?

Da bambino ero rimasto affascinato dal kolossal con Peter O’Toole, poi in età adulta ho letto i Sette pilastri della saggezza. La storia di Lawrence è un coacervo di battaglie tra critici e storici, fin da quando era ancora in vita. Non c’è accordo sulla sua figura, lui stesso ha fatto di tutto per avvolgersi di una cortina di verità e non verità. Inoltre quasi nessuno di quelli che gli furono accanto, sono riusciti a forare l’armatura del personaggio. Graves ha vissuto per tutta la vita con una immagine personale del suo amico, nonostante siano venuti alla luce negli anni i molti e controversi aspetti della personalità.

Lawrence è al centro di una storia ma non è l’unico protagonista

Volevo provare a riflettere su mito, racconto e storia, per questo ho usato Lawrence come un prisma, per farlo vedere con gli occhi degli altri, punti di vista non necessariamente conciliabili tra loro, che ne rappresentassero le tante sfaccettature. Loro che avrebbero inventato e studiato miti, ne avevano uno portata di mano.

Stella del mattino è pura fiction, un what if molto plausibile anche nelle forzature. Ho immaginato che i destini successivi degli altri, potessero coincidere con quanto disegnato qui (Tolkien in realtà non l’ha mai incontrato), e che ognuno riuscisse a trovare  un punto di svolta nella propria vita passando attraverso Lawrence.

Come ci si trova a scrivere da solo e che cosa differenzia questo libro dalla produzione Wu Ming?

Siamo abituati a discutere tutto e tutti assieme, quasi una scrittura con editing incorporato, dove è impossibile avere dei blocchi visto che siamo in cinque. Ho lavorato molto appartato anche rispetto a tutti gli impegni di Wu Ming senza avere persone con cui confrontarmi. Gli altri lavori solisti nascevano da un’esigenza privata, personale. E infatti sono molto diversi tra loro. Qui confluiscono discorsi e tematiche comuni a tutti, a cominciare dal mito, con Lawrence come cartina di tornasole. La cosa più inedita per l’esperienza di WM (e che riesce a portare qualcosa al collettivo) è stato provare a concentrare unità di tempo spazio e luogo in poche centinaia di metri quadrati, proprio a Oxford, il parnaso della quiete accademica. Gli sprazzi epici ci sono ma come dei flash onirici, scritti in prima persona quasi per toglierli dalla storia.

Nel libro la questione medio orientale è vista da lontano. Più che i grandi temi, sembra esserci una riflessione particolare sulle scelte dei personaggi

È la storia di un gruppo di intellettuali che si trovano a riflettere alla fine di un passaggio della storia.. Lawrence guarda il proprio mito e lo trova ingombrante. Qualcuno ci ha fatto notare che poteva essere letta in senso autobiografico, su come eravamo 5 anni fa, quando ci siamo ritrovati a raccontare eventi, a fare mitopoiesi sul Movimento e sulle grandi scadenze internazionali, quando eravamo scrittori in prima linea, anche ingenuamente. Un fondo di verità c’è.

(Epolis luglio 2008 )

]]> http://profoundhatredofpants.wordpress.com/2008/07/15/importance/ Tue, 15 Jul 2008 12:20:39 +0000 Dan http://profoundhatredofpants.wordpress.com/2008/07/15/importance/

I want to be important.
I want to feel like Kennedy
or Kirk
or the Stones.
Instead I feel like glass.
Maybe I have to wait
until I’m dead like O’Toole.

Problem is he had someone who loved
him that fought for his cause
and all I got is a couple cats.

…din seria…Nu voi fi un om obisnuit, pentru ca am dreptul sa fiu extraordinar….

Veneam azi de la munca …eram in vesnicele mijloace de transport si…NU am avut o revelatie (pt. ca asta va gandeati ca o sa scriu)…din contra…nici concluzie nu am avut, cel putin nu una pozitiva. Cred ca incercarea era prea grea (cu toate ca ‘greu’ e un cuvant care incerc sa il scot din vocabular), duceam o teribila lupta incercand sa fiu OBIECTIVA; ma straduiam sa separ realitatea (efectiv realitatea) de realitatea pe care o vad eu (aia interpretata gresit, aia din mult in spatele cuvintelor, AIA)…de fapt de irealitate, de ‘miraj’, de eronata interpretare…nu am reusit intr-un final…INSA am tras niste ‘invataturi’…autodidacta de mine:D

-mereu am idolatrizat lucrurile pe care nu le-am avut cand (cum, cat, unde) am vrut eu!!! Aproape fara exeptie, dupa ce le-am dobandit (intr-un fel sau altul…) am ajuns la concluzia ca sunt mai mult sau mai putin nimicuri…de unde rasare intrebarea: sa se fi transformat ele in nimicuri…nu cred…cred ca de fapt au fost un soi de ‘nimicuri’ inca de la inceput…asta e related cu realitatea si realitatea din capul meu…

-si…ca sa nu fie doar una…pot spune…foarte generalizat, mult mai generalizat decat as fi vrut sa zic… ca oamani vad in oameni…si sunt oameni care cred ca vad totul in alti oameni, dar apreciez ca astea e o ‘realitate fictiva’…cred ca asa au impresia…de fapt nu cred ca vad nici a 11-a parte

-si trei…urasc lucrurile specifice omenirii…God, atat de specifice, urasc: idea ’sa ma supar eu ca sa nu te superi tu’, idea ‘nu-l suna!’, idea indiferentei, fitele, hainele, anumit gen de masini, animale mari care omoara animale mici, anumit gen de oameni, anumit gen de oameni care apreciaza pe acest anumit gen de oameni…si cu toate ca suna mai mult decat penibil din gura mea…oamenii pe kre nu ii multumeste nimic…

78.

The Dame;

Meryl Streep.

Making her screen debut in 1977 at the age of 28, Meryl Streep made her mark quickly. A year into her career, making an appearance in the award winning Julia, before winning an Emmy for her role in the television mini-series Holocaust. Two years later, her reputation was established when aged 30 she won a supporting actress Oscar for her role in the Best Picture winning Kramer vs. Kramer, it was her second Best Picture appearance in as many years after her quietly pained turn in the Vietnam epic The Deer Hunter and established the New Jersey native as one of the brightest sparks on the Hollywood map. Immortality was hers 3 years later with her leading turn in the emotionally harrowing, physically draining Sophie’s Choice, she won the lead actress Oscar and immediately took her place at the head of the quickly emerging generation of actresses. She went on to garner 4 more nominates in the 80s, and with Out of Africa appeared in her 3rd Best Picture winning film in 7 years. As the years have passed she has continued to gain a great deal of attention, racking up further Oscar nominations till she became the most nominated performer in history with her 13th nomination in 2002. Though often accused of being a mechanical, mannered actress, Streep is at times perfectly capable of playing loose, of being effortless and flowing as her detractors claim she is impossible of being. She rose above the turgid middle aged romance of The Bridges of Madison County, to give a heartfelt, melancholy turn, and with her role in Spike Jonze’s Adaptation, gave the sort of beautifully subtle mix of comedy and drama which she had never come close to displaying before, and leaving many to wonder why she doesn’t do it more often. Whether or not Meryl Streep is one of the great actresses of all time is a matter of opinion, but that she is an incredibly gifted performer, equally capable of earning laughs, and tears, with restraint or theatrics is a plain and simple fact. Pushing 60, she shows no signs of slowing down.

The Dude;

Peter O’Toole.

Playwright Noel Coward once told Peter O’Toole that if he had been any prettier, the movie would have had to be called Florence of Arabia. Depending on a persons tastes, that may or may not be the case, but if it is, nobody could deny that the Irish born son of a bookie who abandoned boyhood dreams of journalism to enter the world of acting has ever taken the simplistic route of coasting by on his looks. After small parts in small movies and bit parts on television, graduation day came; in 1962, at the age of 30, Peter O’Toole beat out some of the biggest names in the business to land the lead role in David Lean’s majestic Lawrence of Arabia, and an icon was born. In the 46 years that have come and gone since, O’Toole has amassed 7 further Oscar nominations, yet it was that first that almost half a century later remains the role for which he is, and most likely always will, be best known for. T.E Lawrence was a larger than life character, he was special at what he did and he knew it, O’Toole plays the part with absolute conviction, never attempting to reach out for the audience’s sympathy, simply bringing the character shining to life with a God like ferocity. He has brought that same ferocity to the vast majority of his roles since, whether providing the storm to Richard Burton’s calm in Becket, taking the lead in epic literary adaptations such as Lord Jim, more intimate ones such as Goodbye Mr. Chips, the thundering fireworks of his verbal duels with Katharine Hepburn in The Lion Winter, the odd but interesting choices of films like Supergirl or Caligola, or as the elder statesman, bringing his parched, resounding tones and towering pathos to supporting roles in the likes of Troy and Ratatouille. Peter O’Toole carried a degree of grandiosity out of that desert and into anything he has been involved with since, that he has played Presidents, Popes, Kings and…film directors, will come as no surprise, the world knows what he is suited for, and it’s majesty.

The Director;

Roberto Rossellini.

Roberto Rossellini was born into a bourgeois family in Rome in 1906, his father built the first cinema in Italy, and granted his son an unlimited free pass. As such, the youngster began frequenting the theatre from an early age, falling in love with the medium he helped to define decades later. Following his fathers death, Rossellini began working as a soundmaker on numerous Italian productions, quickly learning the different aspects of the moviemaking trade before in 1937 he made his first documentary, after this he went on to work as assistant on numerous other directors productions, gaining further experience. Though his directing career began soon after, it was not until 1945 that he began to establish the reputation that endured ever since with Roma, citta Aperrta. Made in the final year of the war it ushered in the beginning of the neo-realist movement that has been the hallmark of Italian cinema ever since, it told the harrowing tale of the city of Rome under Nazi occupation and made a star of Anna Magnani. He followed it up the next year with Paisa, a larger scale chronicle of Italy during the war. He completed his legendary neo-realist trilogy in 1948 with Germanna anno Zero, leaving his native land behind, Rossellini turned his attention to Germany, and the conditions in the country in the wake of the war, told through the eyes of a young boy, the nation’s future, and its struggles to overcome the past. In 1950, Rossellini married Ingrid Bergman, and over the next 4 years they made 6 films together, most famously Stromboli, Europa ‘51 and Viaggio in Italia, all character dramas dealing with wider world issues. Though as a cinematic icon it was these later years that made him most famous, it was in that first decade, during the neo-realist period of the 1940s, that Roberto Rossellini made his most defining works as a filmmaker. He took non professional actors and put a camera to them, against the backdrop of one of the most turbulent times in the continents history, perhaps as close as narrative cinema has ever, or will ever come to capturing life on screen. He continued working till the year of his death, but it was in those first ten years of his career, that Rossellini earned cinematic immortality.

The Picture;

Singin’ in the Rain (Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly, 1952)

Hollywood had been turning out musicals since they knew how, ever since Al Jolson sang his way to immortality in The Jazz Singer, the movies had been brimming with song, from Top Hat to The Wizard of Oz to On the Town, from those beginnings to the genre’s decline in the mid 60s musicals garnered Best Picture Oscars on six different occasions, yet still, over half a century later, the Hollywood movie musical was perhaps never more perfectly embodied than in 1952’s Singin’ in the Rain. Created in collaboration between Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly (the two who had brought the iconic On the Town to the screen 3 years prior) the film set new standards of musical innovation, from Donald O’Connors physically awe inspiring, manic hilarity on ‘Make ‘em Laugh’ to the unflinching joy of ‘Good Morning’, the dreamlike odyssey of the ‘Broadway Rhythm Ballet’ and the soaring precipitation soaked glory of the title song itself. Yet here was not a film built entirely upon its musical sequences, for Singin’ in the Rain featured fine performances from its entire cast, from Kelly’s ballsy, charming leading man, Debbie Reynolds’ sweet softness, Donald O’Connor and his electric verve and Jean Hagen’s greedy, jealous, simple and conniving starlet, and even more impressively, here was a musical social commentary at it’s heart. Telling the tale of the coming of sound to cinema, of the changing world and how all in it learned to cope, about ambition and stardom and glitz, about the ones who toil and make the magic and the ones that shine and create illusions. There were those that made more money, and those that won more awards, but only one, had Gene Kelly…singin’…and dancin’…in the rain.

To those who in the dark days following the WW1 hero-happy public he was a guerrilla genius, the Galahad of World War I. To his military superiors he was a popinjay. To the Arabs he was Sheikh Dinamit, the spirit of the wind who led them to victory over the detested Turk. To Biographer Richard Aldington he was a cad and a bounder—sado-masochistic, hemi-homosexual, selfpublicizing charlatan whose actual role in the Arab revolt was small and whose subsequent career as a technician in the R.A.F. was merely a theatrical gesture of humility. To Winston Churchill he was “one of the greatest beings alive in our time,” a man of vast abilities who could write (Seven Pillars of Wisdom) as well as he could fight. He was a genuine soldier-scholar notwithstanding all accusations of his self-publicity.
Such men are the stuff of legends, and since his death in 1935 the legend of Lawrence has inspired scores of books. Produced by Sam Spiegel and directed by David Lean, the men who made The Bridge on the River Kwai the best war picture of the ’50s, Lawrence of Arabia is a cinema colossus that takes four hours (including intermission) to see, took 15 months to film, cost more than $10 million, employed 1,500 camels and horses, 5,000 extras, six famous performers (Alec Guinness. Anthony Quinn, Jack Hawkins, Jose Ferrer, Claude Rains, Arthur Kennedy) and it made a star out of a comparatively obscure young man (Peter O’Toole)
The script, written with considerable address by Playwright Robert Bolt (A Man for All Seasons), foreshortens but does not falsify the story as Lawrence told it. Sent to Arabia to scout the forces rising in revolt against Constantinople, Lieutenant Lawrence (O’Toole) impetuously leads a party of picked men across a notoriously impassable waste that is known as “the sun’s anvil,” and seizes the seaward-sighted cannon of Aqaba from the rear. Stunned, the Turkish garrison surrenders. Startled, General Allenby (Hawkins) offers the young hothead guns and gold, and before long Lawrence and his Arabs are blowing up Turkish trains and garrisons from Medina to Damascus. Then Allenby strikes north from Aqaba, and Lawrence leads 3,000 tribesmen in triumph to Damascus.

Lean is a gifted director who works with confidence at epic elevation, and in Lawrence he also works with a sensitivity to form and color that he has never shown before—it is as if the desert, like a gigantic strap of white-hot steel, had burned away a northern mist that has always obscured his vision. Time and again the grand rectangular frame of the Panavision screen stands open like the door of a tremendous furnace, and the spectator stares with all his eyes into the molten shimmer of whitegolden sands, into blank incandescent infinity as if into the eye of God. It is a mind-battering experience, an encounter with an absolute, and after it too much of the film seems merely human.
The actors, however, survive the encounter. Guinness as Prince Feisal is finely serpentine, and Quinn is magnificent as the venal and violent Sheikh Auda abu Tayi, a great black hairy camel of a man who sucks up gold as a camel sucks up water, and then spews it out with a roar of patriarchal pride: “I am a river to my people!” But it is O’Toole who continually dominates the screen, and he dominates it with professional skill, Irish charm and smashing good looks. They are the looks of a healthy young lion: large strong animal mouth, blazing blue eyes, big graceful head overgrown with a golden mane. (Lawrence by comparison was something of a mouse: his coloring was drab, and he stood scarcely 5 ft. 5 in.—a full head shorter than O’Toole.) In his performance, O’Toole catches the noble seriousness of Lawrence and his cheap theatricality, his godlike arrogance and his gibbering self-doubt; his headlong courage, girlish psychasthenia, Celtic wit, humorless egotism, compulsive chastity, sensuous pleasure in pain. But there is something he does not catch, and that something is an answer to the fundamental enigma of Lawrence, a clue to the essential nature of the beast, a glimpse of the secret spring that made him tick.

But then the script does not catch it either. People who knew Lawrence did not catch it. Lawrence himself did not seem to know what it was. Perhaps it did not exist.

(ack: TIME Magazine, Jan. 4, 1963)
So the only way we can justice to the film is not to rely heavily on historic accuracy but enjoy the film on its merits. A book when transformed into film is sure to disappoint many; by the same token biopics also fall foul with who look more than necessary into lives as lived. Something is lost in translation
“The film, which seemed nostalgic upon its release, looks prescient now, as the debate over Western influence in Arabia is written daily in blood”. —Richard Corliss

This film made number 5 on the American Film Institute’s Top 100 and number 3 on the British Film Institute list. Lots of great directors have since named it as an influence. Lean showed everybody what to do with a wide screen by filling it with desert. In this vast, hot, shimmering space we feel, with Lawrence, alien and alone.

Trivia: In 2001, Lawrence’s revised 1922 proof of Seven Pillars of Wisdom was sold for nearly a million dollars by Christies in New York.

From the creators of “The Bridge on the River Kwai”
Director: David Lean
T.E. Lawrence: Peter O’Toole
Prince Feisal: Alec Guiness
Auda Abu Tayi: Anthony Quinn
Gen. Allenby: Jack Hawkins
Turkish Bey: Jose Ferrer
Sherif Ali Ibn El Kharish: Omar Sharif
Col. Harry Brighton: Anthony Quayle
216 minutes
Academy Awards
Won (7)

* Best Picture
* Best Director
* Best Sound
* Best Art Direction
* Best Cinematography (Fred A. Young)
* Best Editing
* Best Original Score (Maurice Jarre)

Nominated (10)

* Best Actor (Peter O’Toole) -he was passed over for Gregory Peck who won for TO KILL A MOCKING Bird
…Supporting Actor (Omar Sharif)
* Best Adapted Screenplay (Robert Bolt)

Peter O’Toole gives a memorable, idiosyncratic performance as the cerebral and scholarly Lieutenant T.E. Lawrence. Neither the script or his performance hides Lawrence’s strangeness. The film never states that Lawrence was a homosexual, given to masochism and with a predilection for young Arab boys, but if you choose to come away with that impression, it will let you.

He was the most extraordinary man I ever knew.
( Col. Brighton at Lawrence’s memorial service)

Assigned to British Intelligence in the Middle East in 1917, he persuades his doubtful superiors to become an observer to Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness – a David Lean stalwart and at this stage merely an understudying apprentice to Obe-Wan Kenobi). With the help of a dot on the horizon who eventually turns out to be Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif), Lawrence crosses the allegedly impassable Nefud Desert and joins forces with an enemy tribe led by Auda Abu Tayi (Anthony Quinn). This new force defeat the Turks at Aquaba, a strategic port.

So long as the Arabs fight tribe against tribe, so long will they be a little people, a silly people, greedy, barbarous, and cruel, as you are.

‘El Aurens’, in traditional Arab garb, now leads his native forces in a guerilla war against the Turks. But Lawrence now begins to enjoy violence, his dream of creating a united Arab council in Damascus collapses in disagreement and disarray. An exhausted Lawrence returns to England, seeking peace and obscurity.

I pray that I may never see the desert again. Hear me, God.

This movie needs a big canvas, and you should see it on the largest screen possible.

compiler: benny

FGTH, el 1.983 van irrompre al món de la música amb un tema tant polèmic com exitós, Relax, i un any després van treure el seu primer disc Welcome to the Pleasuredome, realment força bo, que va ser seguit del segón, de nom Liverpool, al 1.986, menys reeixit, per acabar separant-se al 1.987 per desavinences entre els membres del grup.

Durant molts anys els va acompanyar la polèmica sobre si eren un grup real o si eren un producte de màrketing i darrera seu hi havia realment músics d’estudi, polèmica que el productor i promotor Trevor Horn, propietari del segell Zang Tumb Tumb, amb el que van gravar els seus discs, no va rebatre mai, per que li suposava una important publicitat afegida.

Si algú té algun dubte, us ofereixo avui el video original del que és, sens dubte, el seu millor tema, i, una versió gairebé “a capella” de Holly Johnson, uns quants anys després, per que pogueu comparar.

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FGTH, en 1.983 irrumpieron en el mundo de la música con un tema tan polémico como exitoso, Relax, y un año después sacaron su primer disco, Welcome to the Pleasuredome, realmente bastante bueno, al que siguió un segundo, Liverpool, en 1.986, menos acertado, para acabar separándose en 1.987 por discrepancias entre los miembros del grupo.

Durante muchos años les acompañó la polémica sobre si eran un grupo real o si eran un producto de márketing y detrás suyo realmente había músicos de estudio, polémica que el productor y promotor Trevor Horn, propietario del sello Zang Tumb Tumb, con el que gravaron sus discos, no rebatió nunca, por que le suponía un importante plus de publicidad.

Si alguien tiene alguna duda, os ofrezco hoy el video original del que es, sin duda, su mejor tema, y una versión casi “a capella” de Holly Johnson, unos cuantos años después, para que podáis comparar.

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FGTH, au 1.983 ont entré dans le monde de la musique avec un thème si polémique qu’exiteux, Relax, et un an après ils ont lancé son premier disque Welcome to the Pleasuredome, vraiment très bon, qui a été suivi du second, Liverpool, au 1.986, moins bien trouvé, pour finir se séparant au 1.987 pour des divergences parmi les membres du groupe.

Pendant plusieurs années ils ont été acompagnés par le doute de s’ils étaient un vrai groupe ou, au contraire, un produit de marketing et derrière eux il y avait vraiment des musiques d’étude, polémique que le producteur et promoteur Trevor Horn, proprietaire de Zang Tumb Tumb, avec qui ils ont enrégistré ses disques, n’a jamais réfuté, donc c’était une bonne publicité.

Si quelqu’un a le doute, je vous présente aujourd’hui le tube original de celle qui est, sans doute, la meilleure chanson de ce groupe, et une version presque “a capella” de Holly Johnson, plusieurs ans après, pour que vous pouvez faire la comparaison.