Hi everybody. It’s Welly and Wilma, the owls behind Owl Chatter. We don’t often appear here in person (in owl?), but we have a message on a topic that’s important to us.
The movement for racial justice that was spawned by the George Floyd murder in May of 2020 reached into the Audubon Society. Chief Executive David Yarnold called for a long conversation on how the Society could become antiracist. But in the past three years, that conversation has degenerated into shouting. Complaints about workplace conditions and the treatment of minorities have arisen, as well as whether John James Audubon should be removed from the Society’s name. Yarnold has since quit along with several board members. Local chapters and donors are pulling away. As birds, we are heartsick over these developments.
There is no question that Audubon contributed more to ornithological study than any other American ever, through his paintings and cataloging. But he was also a slave owner and a very active anti-abolitionist who argued strongly against emancipation. He was not a mensch. We know Washington and Jefferson owned slaves too, but they didn’t actively promote slavery as an institution.
Local chapters in Seattle, NYC, and Chicago dropped Audubon from their name and the national board took up the question. But older, white donors, were miffed. One said:
“If there was even the remotest thought of changing the name of National Audubon because John James Audubon, in a different time, in a different world and a different century owned, whatever it was, six slaves, I would resign from the Audubon. There’d be no further gifts from me for the Audubon.” [He owned nine.] Sadly, and gutlessly, the Board caved and voted against the name change. Looks to us like they elevated money over principles.
The Society canceled its annual fund-raising gala, fearing protests, and the publishers of its field guides have weighed in with complaints, with Knopf saying they would remove the name Audubon from the guides it publishes.
The Society has pledged to raise $25 million to support “marginalized communities,” and says “the vast number of donors and staff continue to stay with us — our name is just part of our identity.”
We say “Hrummmmmph!”
C’mon humans — get your act together — this shouldn’t have been a tough one. What the hell is wrong with you?
Fernando Valenzuela, the Mexican pitcher who spent most of his career with the Dodgers, is the only player in MLB history to win the Cy Young Award and Rookie of the Year in the same year (1981). The Dodgers won the World Series that year too. Valenzuela pitched a complete game shutout on Opening Day and went on to win his first eight starts. “FernandoMania” had begun. The Mexican-American community exploded with love. He was the youngest of twelve children born to parents who were poor farmers in Etchohuaquila, a small town in the state of Sonora, Mexico. He’s 62 now.
Valenzuela threw 107 complete games for LA in 320 starts, but so much pitching may have led to his early decline. The Dodgers released him when he was only 30. His lifetime record is 173-153, with an ERA of 3.48, and 2,074 strikeouts. Carl Hubbell famously struck out five consecutive batters in the 1934 All-Star game. Valenzuela tied that record in the 1986 All-Star game, whiffing Don Mattingly, Cal Ripken, Jesse Barfield, Lou Whitaker, and Ted Higuera. Both Hubbell and Fernando were known for their screwballs. Hubbell’s five victims were a little more impressive — all future Hall-of-Famers: Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Jimmie Foxx, Al Simmons, and Joe Cronin.
We mention Fernando in Owl Chatter today because the Dodgers officially retired his number (34) this week. Kudos ‘Nando! Junior Gilliam and he are the only Dodgers not in the Hall of Fame to earn that honor. Here’s a shot of the autographed card of his in my collection.
Today’s puzzle was all about pasta! Yum. The fun included: “Kitchen disaster with rotini?” — SPIRALS OUT OF CONTROL. “Self-serve spots at pasta bars?” — SHELL STATIONS. “Olive oil for a macaroni salad?” — ELBOW GREASE. “Aftermath of a farfalle dinner?” — BUTTERFLIES IN YOUR STOMACH.
egsforbreakfast posted this wonderful adaptation of a Santayana quote: “Those who forget the pasta are doomed to reheat it.” [Wow.]
Apart from all the pasta dishes, an interesting clue/answer for me was at 6D: “Style of alternative rock with psychedelic influences.” The answer was SHOEGAZE. Have you heard of it?
According to Rex and Wikipedia, SHOEGAZE belongs largely to a bygone era (late ’80s / early ’90s). Originally called shoegazing and sometimes conflated with “dream pop,” it’s a subgenre of indie and alternative rock characterized by its ethereal mixture of obscured vocals, guitar distortion and effects, feedback, and overwhelming volume. It emerged in Ireland and the UK in the late 1980s among neo-psychedelic groups who usually stood motionless during live performances in a detached, non-confrontational state. The name comes from the heavy use of effects pedals, as the performers were often looking down at their pedals during concerts. My Bloody Valentine is probably the biggest name in shoegaze. Here’s a selection:
The clue at 7A was “Remove, as a cap,” and the answer was DOFF. Someone pointed out that putting a cap on is DON and noted the OFF/ON feature. In fact, doff comes from a contraction of “do off” and don from “do on.” Admit it readers — you are so much smarter since you started reading our Owl Chatter nonsense. A little? At all? Alright, never mind. Grumble, grumble.
This story is from today’s Met Diary. It’s by Ali Pearlman and is called “Laundry Time.”
Years ago, I lived in the East Village, in a walk-up on Sixth Street with an air shaft window above the Bangladeshi restaurants that lined the block.
To do my laundry, I had to schlep to Launderette on Second Avenue. Under the harsh fluorescent lights there, I would see the same man every week, washing his restaurant’s heap of blue cloth napkins.
The man had a patch of thinning hair. He was usually in an undershirt and chewing on a betel pepper. He would give me a red-toothed smile, and I would respond with a head-nod hello. He always looked tired.
Seasons changed. The cost of time on the dryer went up 25 cents. It seemed like new owners had taken over. There was art on the walls.
Then one day, the man with the napkins spoke to me.
“My restaurant is closing,” he said, a bulging laundry sack at his feet.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied.
He reached into the sack and dug out a bottle of wine.
“For you,” he said, handing it to me. “My special laundry friend.”
I just signed up to embarrass myself at this year’s Lollapuzzoola, a crossword tournament in NYC this Saturday. It’ll be my second in-person tournament. I finished in the bottom third in the first one, but loved it. I may have been the oldest person there. There are two levels: Express (for Superstars), and Local (for Earthlings). I asked them what level I should choose, noting that I pretty much can always finish the NYT Saturday puzzle. They suggested “Earthling” unless I normally finish it in around ten minutes. Ouch! — it usually takes me 25-30 min. Glad I asked! I’ll let you know how it goes.
Your waitress tonight in the Owl Chatter Cafe is SARA. If you did today’s puzzle, you saw her at 97A, clued with “Singer Bareilles.” She sings stuff between shifts.
That’s a pretty note to end on tonight. See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 