Posted on 05/10/2007 4:09:02 PM PDT by Clintonfatigued
All I can say is that it's a good thing it's Ken Burns. If the micromanagers and pseudo-censors representing the politically correct Congressional Hispanic Caucus were taking on a lesser filmmaker, who knows what would happen? At least it's relatively easy for PBS, the Public Broadcasting System, to stand behind the best documentary artist in America. In this climate, the second-best might not fare so well.
The current controversy centers around Ken Burns' forthcoming film, "The War," which focuses on how the people of four American towns were affected by World War II. Famous historians everywhere have supported the project. Burns, who has created epic "poems" about everything from sports to the Civil War, seems poised once again to capture the country's imagination in a seven-part series.
Of course, I haven't seen it yet. But neither have the people protesting that PBS shouldn't support Burns or air his series because, from those four towns, none of the people who go to war are Hispanic.
I kid you not.
It's not that he says anything bad about Hispanics. No racist slurs, ugly comments, derogatory references. But how dare Burns pick his own towns and his own people without making sure everyone was represented? Who does he think he is, the storyteller or something?
They've even formed a committee to demand that Burns redo the film, which took him six years to make and is now completely done. "Defend the Honor Campaign" it's called, and its only purpose seems to be to attack a guy who went so far as to offer to add additional material at the end of the movie to include Hispanics — as if this were an encyclopedia and not a movie.
That's right. Burns could have justifiably told these folks where to go and what to do
(Excerpt) Read more at creators.com ...
You state it so eloquently! Well said!
You saw those guys? My gawd, how did you get any work done? You lucky guy!! Did you get to listen?
But really, how was the crowd? Who frequented the club? Were they rowdies?
Although there was one dude, a big guy, a one-eyed Black pimp who had two girls with him but who was gay himself. He came in once not knowing what the place really was. I had to ask him to leave because he kept hitting on this skinny white drummer whose name I forget. It was a dicey proposition because the dude was big, solid and a street pimp. I played to his 'dignity' in front of musicians and it worked, he left with nothing more than a brief stare-down. He did give me that 'you ain't worth the sweat' chuckle as he left but so what. I'll admit I was nervous, I remember I kept my right hand on a thick beer mug on the bar throughout the conversation just in case I had to swing it. It pays to remember that at the time I was a 23 year old red-headed Irish guy playing it out in front of a bunch of guys who lived hard and had seen everything. Getting that pimp out to the street without a tussle sent my stock up about ten points.
The joint was in the basement of a brownstone but without the garden (there was an art-deco clock set in the wall over the entrance and that's how it got its name). That is not at all unusual as there are dozens of bars, restaurants, music joints in brownstone basements in the Village, the West Side, Chelsea and the Theater District in midtown.
The place was small, about twenty feet wide by maybe forty feet deep with space taken out for the bar, the kitchen, the rest rooms and storage. Most of the tables were along the wall with the musicians in the back and I heard it all up close. It was a very cool six months.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.