Back in 2013, I wrote about the Boy Scouts of America's decision to allow Gay boys to enter its ranks. 

As I said then, I was never a Boy Scout, and I have no stake one way or the other about its reputation or continued existence. But I questioned the advisability of, in effect, asking very young boys to consider and declare their sexuality, at an age when such questions should be regarded as premature at best, and potentially corrupting at worst. My argument then was about the jeopardy of participants, of a public organization devoted to moral integrity and conduct, being forced to facilitate an agenda whose mandate was directly opposed its founding principles. 

The Illustration from my May 24th, 2013 post

Today, the media is a-flurry with reports of a new wave of negative publicity and court filings against the Scouts, centered around the revelation in court of internal Scout documents detailing over twelve thousand victims of abuse by some 8000 scout leaders, dating back to 1944, which the organization has managed to keep from public knowledge and view. The Scouts apparently kept a so-called "perversion file" of deposed leaders, which it didn't release either. 

The wave of 300 court cases representing some 3000 abuse clients has now prompted the Boy Scouts to declare bankruptcy, in an effort to shield itself from the anticipated court judgments against it. Like the Roman Catholic Church, which evaded responsibility for the sexual abuse of boys by priests over the decades, the Boy Scouts now finds its very continued existence threatened. 

 

Founded in 1910, over the years the Boy Scouts of America has expanded to include up to 2.3 million youth, girls as well as boys, and is coordinated with the assistance of 900,000 adult volunteers. The Scouts were originally founded "to teach patriotism, courage, self-reliance, and kindred values" to boys. However, changes have been made to the Scouts, starting with a new name, Scouts BSA, and its values and guidelines have been altered in the ensuing decades. In 2013 it lifted restriction on sexual orientation and in 2015 lifted its ban on allowing gay scoutmasters--despite the organization's history of sexual abuse--involuntarily, via litigation. 

The corrupting influences on this venerable old boys' club are like a bad dream come true. One can only imagine the sort of sex talks that might take place in today's scouting world, of gay (or lesbian?) scoutmasters informing young boys that all sexual behavior is morally neutral, and that expressing or believing in "homophobic" attitudes is wrong. Would this also mean that homosexual behavior by boys while in scouting ventures would be condoned? Or that sexual contact between homosexual scoutmasters and "willing" boy-partners would be tolerated, even encouraged? 

20 years ago, who would have been able to predict such eventualities, or to imagine that society would be persuaded to adopt them? 

Wait Until Next Year

The prospects for the San Francisco Giants in the coming year (2020) appear dismal.

General Manager Farhan Zaidi, hired prior to the 2019 season after stints with the Dodgers (4 years) and the Oakland A's (2 years), appears not to have a coherent plan to turn our ailing franchise around, after five years of frustration, following the three championship years (2010, 2012 and 2014).

There are various theories about how to build a competitive ball club. Before free agency, teams had much more control of their destinies, since players couldn't move freely among teams, weighing competing offers and situations with abandon. Nowadays, general managers have to juggle and improvise each season, moving players around, filling holes, placing bets on free agents while breeding new talent from the minors.  

There are basically only three ways to acquire new (or proven) talent: Through the farm system, developing players, usually hired out of college; through free agent signings; or through trades. The Giants once had one of the best farm systems in the majors, but over the years, it has had its ups and downs. The Giants system produced Buster Posey, Brandon Crawford, Madison Bumgarner, Pablo Sandoval, Tim Lincecum, Sergio Romo, Matt Cain, Brian Wilson, Brandon Belt, and Joe Panik. All these players contributed to the Giants three championship runs.

But that was six years ago. In the years since, the Giants haven't produced a single star player from their own farm system. In the last 10 years, however, they've signed a number of free agents, many of whom have made excellent contributions: Aubrey Huff, Freddy Sanchez, Juan Uribe, Andres Torres, Edgar Renteria, Cody Ross, Jeremy Affeldt, Javier Lopez, Ryan Volgelsong, Hunter Pence, Gregor Blanco, Marco Scutaro, Angel Pagan, Tim Hudson, Johnny Cueto, Eduardo Nunez, Denard Span, Jeff Samardzija, Evan Longoria, Will Smith, Kevin Pillar, Stephen Vogt, Alex Dickerson.

There's always a risk in paying big cash for high-profile free agents, that they may have a career turn, become injured, or fail to fit into the team's "chemistry." Certainly, in retrospect, the Giants' investment in free agents was the key to their five year run of success.

The failure of the Giants farm system to produce more talent in the last five years suggests that trying to engineer a new contending team "from the inside" is probably not prudent.

What is Zaidi's strategy to return the club to contention? He let Kevin Pillar (their best-hitting outfielder), Will Smith (their All Star closer), Stephen Vogt (their excellent hitting 2nd string catcher), and Madison Bumgarner (their ace starter) depart through free agency, refusing to offer competing offers for any of them. Ordinarily, this would suggest that he has a longer-term strategy, that there are players waiting in the wings from the minors, ready to move up and take the places of the departed or declining veterans. But the Giants recent rookie arrivistes haven't convinced anyone that there is a "secret" pool of young talent to draw upon.

The Giants signed Pence and Sandoval, two players from the glory years, both now, without much argument, past their prime, and useful only as platoon players or pinch-hitters. The addition of Wilmer Flores--much touted in the media this week--seems a pathetic gesture towards the fan-base. The Dodgers, meanwhile, went out and acquired Mookie Betts, whose hot bat, power and speed is sure to pump up LA's already potent line-up.

The passive reaction to the departure of Bumgarner seems the most troubling. In previous posts, I've predicted great things for the big raw-boned Deep South Lefty, whose two years of injury-plagued performance have not dimmed my enthusiasm for his potentials. In an earlier era, he would certainly have followed a pattern similar to Warren Spahn's, whose durability produced Hall of Fame numbers.  It's hard to imagine a more counter-productive and short-sighted decision, than to have let him go, given his likely future. It will turn out to be one of the great tragic bad transactions in history. I predict MadBum will win 100 games for the Diamondbacks.

This week, MLB.com posted an article about the "Top 100 Players" in major league baseball. Not one of this 100 was a Giant. Not Posey, not anyone. 30 teams, 100 players--an average of 3 players per team. Would Bumgarner have qualified if he hadn't signed with Arizona? 

Zaidi's big moves in the offseason? Hunter Pence, Pablo Sandoval, Zack Cozart, Will Wilson, and . . . Wilmer Flores! But perhaps the biggest move was forcing Bruce Bochy out--the same manager who engineered the team's three world championships. Presumably, Zaidi had something in mind there, but what?

Do the Giants presently have any player who could conceivably qualify for the All Star Team this season? Their rotation will be "led by Jeff Samardzija." Jeff Samardzija? The Jeff Samardzija who has one (one!) winning season in 14? Who led the league in losses in 2017 with 15? 

Johnny Cueto will returning from Tommy John surgery this year, so he'll be in the mix, but who knows whether he'll ever completely recover. He's nothing but a question-mark now. 

The Giants "power vacuum"--which has persisted every year since Bonds retired--is as much a concern as ever. So bad, in fact, that the team finally decided to move the right field wall in several feet. Year after year, the team fails to find a right-handed power hitter. Evan Longoria was presumably brought in to do that, but he's only a shadow of the slugger he once was. 

Posey, Belt, Crawford, Longoria--each seems to have settled into the "journeyman's" mediocrity, just good enough to start, but not to win. 

This team looks to be in trouble, and management seems to be without answers. If Zaidi's planning to build from the farm system, he might have to start with the farm system itself, which hasn't produced a star pitcher or hitter in a decade. Aside from late-comer Mike Yastrzemski, there hasn't been a new bright light on this team for several years. 

Zaidi's tenure as Giants GM is beginning to look very peculiar. Almost as if those funky rumors about his being a spy for the Dodgers might actually be true. 

In the age of homers and strike-outs, the Giants are regressing, looking very much like a team which is trying to save money by fielding a cheap product. Could a team actually end up last in homers, runs scored, RBI's, stolen bases, and ERA in the same year? 

This team might very well do it.   

An Opportune Reflection

The complete text of the "You have meddled with the primal forces of nature" speech from the movie Network [1976]. Was there ever a more pertinent summary of the world economy than this one?

"You have meddled with the primal forces of nature, Mr. Beale, and I won't have it! Is that clear?! Do you think you've merely stopped a business deal? That is not the case. The Arabs have taken billions of dollars out of this country, and now they must put it back! It is ebb and flow, tidal gravity! It is ecological balance! You are an old man who thinks in terms of nations and peoples. There are no nations. There are no peoples. There are no Russians. There are no Arabs. There are no third worlds. There is no West. There is only one holistic system of systems, one vast and immane, interwoven, interacting, multi-variate, multi-national dominion of dollars. Petro-dollars, electro-dollars, multi-dollars, reichmarks, rins, rubles, pounds, and shekels. It is the international system of currency which determines the totality of life on this planet. That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and sub-atomic and galactic structure of things today! And you have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and You Will Atone! 

Am I getting through to you, Mr. Beale? You get up on your little twenty-one inch screen and howl about America and democracy. There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today. What do you think the Russians talk about in their councils of state - Karl Marx? They get out their linear programming charts, statistical decision theories, minimax solutions, and compute the price-cost probabilities of their transactions and investments, just like we do. We no longer live in a world of nations and ideologies, Mr. Beale. The world is a college of corporations, inexorably determined by the immutable by-laws of business. The world is a business, Mr. Beale. It has been since man crawled out of the slime. And our children will live, Mr. Beale, to see that perfect world in which there's no war or famine, oppression or brutality. One vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit, in which all men will hold a share of stock, all necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused. And I have chosen you, Mr. Beale, to preach this evangel. (Beale: "Why me?") Because you're on television, dummy. Sixty million people watch you every night of the week, Monday through Friday. (Beale: "I have seen the face of God.") You just might be right, Mr. Beale."

A Boy's Life

A Boy's Life

"Just wait 'til you see her in the water."

                

Putting the toy sailboat together was Sunday’s job—
The Hardy Boys rolled up their sleeves, saying “Cleora
Will really appreciate this” and glued
The slats of blond balsa neatly in place. It’s that greenhouse
Era, German teenagers with too much time on their hands,
So rockets shoot up, murdering the neighbor cat.
In those days I still believed in prose, like
A telescope receding inexorably into my past.
A thin coat of water-sealer, then two coats of 
Bleeding enamel, and the thing is seaworthy.

Going Material: The Recklessness of Not Being Mistaken [2019]

As 2019 draws to a close, I look back over the year, my 72nd birthday year, and take stock. 

It was a busy year, mostly devoted to my book business, with this one big project, undertaken at the end of 2018, and completed in July. 

I've always had an ambiguous position with respect to publication. As an aspiring poet in the early 1970's, I was often disappointed that the works I got published were invariably those which I felt least represented who I was as a writer. Of course, the act of publication is as much a process of self-discovery as of pure intention and will, as you are always finding out what your work means through the projection it creates in a variety of settings. 

When I took Harry Duncan's typography course at the University of Iowa in 1970, I was attracted to the aesthetic and physical qualities of type, paper, binding--those manifestations of "literature" that both are and are not the essence of language art. At the same time, I was influenced by the poetic innovations that my teacher Robert Grenier was making in textual space. The underlying implication of his presumption was that a writer must be willing to claim the spatial and physical limits of his medium, lest he cede part of his creative impetus to typesetters, editors, publishers and book designers. Though I've always been generally traditional in my apprehension of the book, I eventually came to believe that the more control I could wrest over a text I made--its final realization as material text--the better I would feel about the finished product. 

I started this blog, The Compass Rose, in January 2009. Over the course of the next 9+ years, I'd compose over 900 entries, covering a wide range of subjects and preoccupations. It wouldn't have occurred to me when I began, how many there would be, or how much text I'd eventually generate. And it didn't occur to me until somewhat later, that this growing body of essays might comprise something like a meaningful whole, a statement of something like a consistent point of view. People who write diaries certainly share the same kind of accrual of material as a regular blogger does. Indeed, the diaries of famous writers constitutes a whole segment of literary remains (think of Virginia Woolf).  

As a professional bookseller specializing in rare first editions and desirable collectible copies, I routinely see elegant and custom printings and bindings. There are kinds for every taste, though paper and leather and cloth and glue are not, in and of themselves, magnetic objects, even if cleverly put together. Though I well appreciate the true antiquarian item, perhaps bound in sheepskin vellum or treated kid, my taste also extends to contemporary book art. 

When it first occurred to me to make a selection of my blog essays for publication, I imagined that the resulting volume would be perhaps 500 pages. That seemed to be a fitting dimension, and I set out to edit the 900+ essays I'd posted online over the years. I had vague notions of order and preference, but as this process progressed, it became harder and harder to whittle it down. That single volume grew to 700, then 800 pages, but in due course it became clear that a second volume would be necessary. There are some 200 essays in the set, about 20% of the total number posted online. I was somewhat astounded at the number of pages (or words) this represented. If someone had suggested to me when I was a younger man, to set out to make a ten thousand page document--of any description--this would have been daunting. Yet the actual work, spread out over a decade, was not taxing.      

Just as I had known when I started the blog, that I wanted to extend its range of subject matter broadly enough to encompass many different aspects of culture, I wanted the book version to reflect that same eclectic mix. The Compass Rose was not a literary blog, per se. It had no specific target audience, though those who shared my history as a sometime contemporary poet, would clearly find things familiar or of interest. 

What major New York, or secondary literary house, would be interested in publishing a collection of casual essays by an unknown blogger living in the San Francisco Bay Area? I had thought a great deal about this question over the years, even before the digital age began in earnest. Popular book markets have undergone some changes over the last half century, but the presumption of official taste-making still hangs over our literary culture. I've dealt with this question in one of the essays included in this set, "Vanity, Saith the Preacher, Vanity"--which addresses the question of private, author-generated publication. Indeed, the internet itself has opened a whole sphere of "publication" beyond the control or approval of the old publishers' establishment of printers, editors and agents. My blog is one manifestation of that new window, the World Wide Web of media transmission. Is it self-delusion for any writer or artist to believe that fronting the presentation of one's work, without the intercession of a professional publisher or exhibitor, might be a worthy exploit?

      

How many deserving toilers have been discouraged by the army of editors and agents, overcome by a wave of rejection? How many works of genius have fallen into obscurity or disposal through misguided or naive criteria? Perhaps such questions are really defenses fronting the armies of mediocrity which are constantly striving for acceptance or legitimacy.     

While the writings contained in this 1500 page collection are for the most part traditional in manner and subject, their medium is not.  I'm unaware of any other books of blog essays on the market. Certainly there are non-fiction collections of works that appeared first as newspaper or magazine pieces--I'm reading one right now by Janet Malcolm. What strikes me about many of these more "public" efforts is their marked similarity to what I've been doing online. The internet has been, as much as anything else, a democratizing influence upon the culture, allowing thousands, if not millions of "ordinary people" to "publish" their speech or writing out in the open, where anyone with a computer can access them. It's leveled the playing-field of what was once a closely monitored game.   

You could describe this publication as a proprietary entity, as it's limited to just 200 copies, 5 of which are hardbound (the rest paperbacks as shown here). The binding is an hybrid black cloth-facing stiff paper, which is resistant to wrinkling or curling. I had originally planned to print the titles and so forth directly on to the acetate dust wrappers, but that became impractical. The edition was printed by Edition One in Berkeley, on coated paper (which enabled me to reproduce the illustrations (many in full color) with complete fidelity. This meant heavier volumes in the hand, but a high quality art book feel. 

Distribution will essentially be private. I'll give copies away to those who may have expressed interest, or whom I think might find it diverting. Nominally priced at $100, I doubt anyone would seriously consider paying for it. Which is all fine with me. It's an act of pure indulgence. One thing I noticed in the editing process, is that the contents as a whole tells enough about my life that it might be described as a back-handed autobiography, especially the introductory preface "As if the World Made Sense." 

As I say in the preface, I've always liked books--the material text--as opposed to recorded speech or digital display. Ironically, the book couldn't have been as efficiently (or reasonably) produced without the contemporary digital printing technology. That made the production of my book of photographs* possible, as well as The Recklessness of Not Being Mistaken.  People ask me what the title means. It's taken from a poem I wrote over 45 years ago, a series of line fragments written in a disconnected sequence. To me, it's another way of saying that no matter how sure you may be about something, there's always the possibility that you're wrong--a kind of conscience, I guess--and that you may embarrass yourself with excess presumption. 

We can never be 100% convinced of anything, so it pays to reserve some modesty for the time when you may be proven wrong. Was it a mistake to publish this collection of casual, occasional blog essays? Maybe. But the pleasure I derive(d) from the exercise more than makes up for the risk of making a fool of myself. Go, big book.  

______________________________

*See my blog announcement for my previously published book, Photographs 1986-1996, Compass Rose Books, Kensington, 2017.  

So Much For Sentiment

It was reported this morning that Giants' pitcher Madison Bumgarner has signed a 5-year deal with the Arizona Diamondbacks, which keeps him in the same division with his former team. He's reported to have been offered a 4-year deal by the Giants, for equivalent annual salary, but he chose to take an extra year.  




As early as way back in 2009, comparing Bum to Tim Lincecum, I predicted that long after Lincecum's career was history, the Lefty would still be pumping out 200 innings a year, and winning games at a Hall-of-Fame clip. 

The Giants' decline since 2014 has been the result of the inevitable aging of key players. I probably wouldn't have expected this to happen to Posey, but catching is a grind, and Buster didn't posses the big, sturdy body the classic squat position requires for durability. Bumgarner, on the other hand, despite some recent injuries, had the kind of durability that almost guaranteed a long career. 

MadBum's unexpected injuries in 2017 and 2018 certainly changed the picture significantly--lost years in which his typical season number (16-8, say) would have continued. Undoubtedly, the decline of the team's fortunes boded ill for veterans still hanging on five years after their last title. I'd expect Belt, Crawford and Pablo all will leave before long, though Posey might be gone too. Baseball is a business, and there are no guarantees in professional sport. 

Baseball has increasingly become hard-hearted. Free-agency has played a part, and the new theoretical bases for moving players based on the exquisite statistical analyses such as those employed by the Oakland A's, together with the high-roller payrolls some of the big urban teams now carry, has meant a further erosion of the fan identification with key home-team favorites. After winning three championships in five years, the Giants knew the dream wouldn't continue: Dynasties can't be sustained as they once could be, no matter how much money there is to acquire the big-name players year after year. 

I suspect that Bumgarner will have a respectable career when it's all said and done. Rather than the 300 wins he might have gotten, he'll probably end up with about 215, a good number, but not in my opinion what he ought to have done. But inside that career, will always be those three World Series rings. General Manager Farhan Zaidi--I'll never get used to a name like that--seems to want to build a team out of younger talent, working through the farm system, and filling in with ho-hum journeymen while that talent matures. This would work if the farm system showed promise, but the team's rookies over the last five years have been anything but stellar. Lincecum, Sandoval, Bumgarner, Posey and Crawford were all developed from within, but that was a decade or more ago. 

Giving up a proven talent, popular with fans, over a one-year contract difference, for a pitcher still in the prime of his career, seems to me a stupid move. Bumgarner is the type of pitcher every team needs and wants, sturdy, competitive, committed, with a proven track record. He's a once-in-a-generation player for any team. And MadBum was ours, a kid who came up and immediately showed all the best qualities. 

Without strong young arms coming up, standing pat looks like stalling. Re-building is an inevitable trend in every pro-team's evolution over time. But turning squads over just for the sake of doing so, to show that hard realities are smarter than sentiment, looks like bad strategy. Zaidi won't be able to replace Bumgarner, and that will mean the team's fortunes will suffer. 

The Giants will regret having let their Ace go. You heard it first here. 

Horse Training in Inner Mongolia 1979

Since the time of Genghis Khan, even as far back as 2000 years, traditional Mongol nomads have been living with their hybrid horses, using them for everything from transportation and racing or as warhorses, to a food source. The Mongol soldier relied on his horses to provide him with food, drink, transportation, armor, shoes, ornamentation, bowstring, rope, fire, sport, music, hunting, entertainment, spiritual power, and in case of his death, a mount to ride in the afterlife. Mongol horses made excellent warhorses because of their hardiness, stamina, self-sufficiency, and ability to forage on their own. The main disadvantage of the Mongol horse as a war steed was that it was slower than some of the other breeds it faced on the battlefield. Soldiers preferred to ride lactating mares because they could use them as milk animals. In times of desperation, they would also slit a minor vein in their horse's neck and drain some blood into a cup. This they would drink either "plain" or mixed with milk or water. A Mongol warrior's horse would come at his whistle and follow him around, dog-like. Each warrior would bring a small herd of horses with him (three to five being average, but up to 20) as remounts. They alternated horses so that they always rode a fresh horse.



Eve Arnold--check out her Wiki page here--went to China in the 1970's, which is when she made this photo of a young Mongol woman training her horse to lie down.

Horse Training for the Militia. Inner Mongolia. 1979

I'm not sure why I find this image so moving--probably the gentleness and devotion of the woman, patting the horse's side, perhaps comforting it or quieting it. The animal trusting, a companion. Posed against the limitless exposure of the barren landscape--endless grass-land, no cover, no concealment, no protection. The pastel pink of her outfit. Black boots. Wow.

The image suggests a culture, and a world, that has been in existence for hundreds--even thousands--of years, continuing right up into our present. Rather than embracing automobiles and televisions and computers and permanent structures, these people have held on to a way of life that still works for them. They've preserved their exotic, stubbornly old-fashioned ways because they work. 

Everywhere on earth, older cultures are crumbling under the advance of technology and the "liberation" of knowledge and change. We know we're losing valuable skills and sacredness that may never be recorded or rediscovered.

Do we really want to live in a world where everyone lives the same life, with the same tools, and the same dreams and expectations?

What a dull place that will be!

Map of Inner Mongolia