RAND PAUL

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In the wake of the ghastly events in Ferguson, Missouri, Rand Paul, almost alone among politicians of national prominence, called for the demilitarization of the police.  It was a more courageous response than we got from Barack Obama, who called for calm, or Hillary Clinton, who said nothing.

Instantly liberal pundits started trying to discount Rand’s statements, reminding us that he once had doubts, on ideological libertarian grounds, about provisions of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, and calling his current position opportunistic.  In fact, Rand has been speaking out about the disproportionate persecution of blacks by the police for months.

Image: File of U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton delivering remarks at the State Department  in Washington

Liberal pundits are deeply threatened by acts of political courage by conservatives, probably because they know how appealing they are to the public at large in this age of liberal pusillanimity and downright cowardice.  In the latest poll about possible match-ups in the 2016 Presidential race, Hillary now leads Rand by only 6 points.  Not long ago she led him by 12 points.

Senators Call For Passage Of Military Justice Improvement Act

That trend will continue.  Hillary is playing not to lose — a losing strategy, as any poker player will tell you.  Rand is putting his chips in play.  He’s driving the game — Hillary is just trying to run out the clock and stay in it.  She’s the fish at the table.

Rand is not doing as well against his Republican rivals for the nomination, but the debates could change that.  In debates between the principled Paul and the mealymouthed Clinton, it would be no contest.

LAUREN BACALL

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This was the cover of Harper’s that drew Howard Hawks’s attention to model Lauren Bacall and got him to test her for the lead in To Have and Have Not.

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THUGS

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When I was 17, working a summer job at the track in Saratoga Springs, New York, some co-workers and I managed one night to illegally purchase a case of beer.  We took it out back of the local high school, into a dark area where we thought we’d be hidden, and started drinking.

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A police cruiser, on a routine patrol or perhaps alerted by people living near the school, pulled up into the parking lot by the side of the school and spotted us.  We ran, climbing an 8-foot chain-link fence behind the school.

When I got to the top of the fence I heard the police firing shots into the air and commanding us to stop.  I didn’t stop — I vaulted the rest of the way over the fence and ran though a succession of backyards until I’d put the school far behind me, eventually making my way to where I was living without further incident.

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I was breaking the law in several ways that night — I’d helped buy beer while under age, I was consuming it in a semi-public place while under age, and I was trespassing on city property.  If this had all happened in a black section of town, if I had been a young black male, I wonder if the police might have felt empowered to shoot at me instead of into the air as I was failing to abide by a lawful police order.

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Michael Brown had apparently broken the law in several ways on the day he was shot in Ferguson, Missouri — swiping some cigars from a convenience store, walking down the middle of a street, perhaps failing to abide by the lawful order of a police officer.

You could say he was acting like a thug on that day, just as you could say I was acting like a thug that night in Saratoga Springs — except that no one would have said it of me.  Because I was white, I was just a teenager doing something stupid and irresponsible.  It never occurred to me that I might get shot for running away from the police, for acquiring and consuming beer illegally.

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It was a youthful indiscretion, which probably amused the police more than it outraged them — a youthful indiscretion that I was proud, at the age of 17, to have gotten away with.  I knew it was wrong, but at 17 I didn’t care.

Michael Brown paid for his youthful indiscretion with his life — because he was seen and treated as a thug . . . and it’s hard to doubt that he was seen and treated that way primarily because he was black.

HEADING NORTH

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After our visit to Fort Verde we drove north to the head of Oak Creek Canyon so Libba could take some video footage there.  The light was a little flat for her purposes but she got some good stuff anyway.  The first Hollywood film shot in the Sedona area, in 1923, featured Oak Creek Canyon as its main location.  The film, The Call Of the Canyon, based on a Zane Grey novel, was directed by Victor Fleming.  Long thought lost, a print of it was discovered in Russian archives in 2010.

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We continued north from there to the Hopi Reservation.  Hopi art was an inspiration to the artist Libba is making her documentary about.  The main settlement on the reservation is set amidst a vast empty landscape, hours away from any other town, and is a depressing place, like many Indian reservations.  We were not inclined to linger long there.

We drove west looking for a place to stay the night but had a hard time finding one.  At Tuba City, in the Navajo Indian Reservation that surrounds the Hopi lands, the most likely spot, all the motels were filled.

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We had to drive to the outskirts of Flagstaff to find a Travelodge with a couple of free rooms.  It made for a long day but at the end of it we were treated to the sunset above by way of compensation.

[Photographs © 2014 Libba Marrian]

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FROZEN

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This computer-animated feature from Disney is generally charming and occasionally funny.  I watched it in 3D at home on Starz and found it to be engaging visually but not inspired, without the invention and zest of Spielberg’s computer-animated 3D feature Tintin, for example.  I found the songs relentlessly mediocre if serviceable, and have no idea why one of them, “Let It Go”, became a huge hit.

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I’m not sure, either, why Frozen itself became such a huge hit, but suspect it’s because the film deals with female empowerment in a genial and amusing way, and because its main protagonist, Princess Anna, is such an appealing character, well-written (by Jennifer Lee) and well-voiced (by Kristin Bell).  Her quirky spirit keeps the film aloft though its more predictable twists and turns.

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Frozen also has an unusually strong relationship between two sisters at its core, which gives it a certain thematic freshness.

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The young female audience is poorly served by Hollywood these days and will strongly support competent fare aimed at it.  It’s interesting that Frozen, like Titanic, another film whose success was driven in great part by female teens, increased its gross each week in the first three weeks of its release, a very unusual pattern.  When young females get word of a film they can relate to the buzz among them spreads fast and they will revisit the film repeatedly.

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Young females are certainly as strong a market for films as young males, and probably a more reliable one, but the male dorks who run Hollywood would generally still rather make films for young males than for young females.  Only personal pathologies can account for this.

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FERGUSON

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In the wake of events in Ferguson, Missouri:

Barack Obama has called for calm and reflection.

Hillary Clinton, clearly still huddling with her handlers to find the the most politically advantageous position to take, has said NOTHING.

Meanwhile, Rand Paul has called for the demilitarization of the police — the only response that might actually help black Americans in a practical way.

SAUDI AMERICA

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Normally I can keep in check my rage against modern American Puritans, but that’s mostly because I live in Las Vegas, where vestiges of social freedom remain.  When I venture out into Saudi America, I lose it.

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America has become a land of moral pygmies — able to coolly tolerate the Surveillance State, the Nanny State, the epidemic of obesity, the murder and mass incarceration of blacks at the hands of the Police State, the fraud of corporate “democracy”, the subversion of The Constitution, but outraged like a ravished virgin if someone smokes a cigarette within 20 feet of the entrance to a non-smoking establishment in, say, Arizona.

To all of you Americans who support laws restricting smoking, just because you don’t happen to like the smell of tobacco smoke, among whom are many people I consider friends, I say — “Fuck you, fuck you where you breathe.”  You are pathetic moral zeros who need to get a life.  Now.

I love you — but you are pathetic moral zeros who need to get a life.  Now.

FORT VERDE

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The high point of our Arizona trip for me was a visit to Fort Verde, the best preserved of all the frontier cavalry posts in the state.  Only a few post buildings remain, along with the parade ground, but it’s enough to give you a strong sense of what the place must have been like in its period of service from the 1870s to the 1890s.  There’s not a lot of modern building around it that you have to overlook, as there is at Fort Hayes in Kansas, for example.  Hayes was a bigger and more important post but its few 19th-Century structures are surrounded by a modern working army base.

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Fort Verde, pictured above in 1879, was never a stockaded fort, like the ones you invariably see in Hollywood Westerns, and hardly any cavalry posts were — Indians almost never attacked large concentrations of soldiers, so there was no need for defensive walls.

General Charles King, whose novels give the best picture of everyday life in frontier army posts, was once stationed at Fort Verde, which served as the model for the fort in his most famous book, The Colonel’s Daughter.  It was a place renowned for its civilized amenities, courtesy of the officers’ wives stationed there over the years.  The commanding officer’s home, for example, below, had a mansard roof because the first commanding officer’s wife had seen them once on a trip to France and developed a fondness for them.

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The post administration building survives, along with the commanding officer’s home, one building that housed unmarried officers and the post doctor’s house, all ranged on the edge of the parade ground, which feels haunted by the ghosts of many parades and formations of mounted men doing a tough job in a forbidding place.

So here they are: the dog-faced soldiers, the regulars, the fifty-cents-a-day professionals   . . . riding the outposts of a nation.  From Fort Reno to Fort Apache — from Sheridan to Startle — they were all the same: men in dirty-shirt blue and only a cold page in the history books to mark their passing.  But wherever they rode — and whatever they fought for — that place became the United States.

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My sister posed in one of the uniforms the park visitors’ center provides for such purposes.

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I was thinking about John Ford the whole time.

[Contemporary photos © Libba Marrian]

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ENCORE SEDONA

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On our second day in Sedona we drove south of the town so Libba could photograph the scenery for her documentary.  Then we drove down to the old cavalry fort in Camp Verde, but it was closed so we settled for lunch in the town of Camp Verde at the picturesque restaurant below.

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It had a spiffy old Bel Air parked beside it and pretty good Mexican food.  Then we drove out to see Montezuma’s Castle.

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Early visitors to the Verde Valley figured the cliff dwellings had some connection to the Aztecs, hence the name, but they were actually built by the Sinagua Indians, a local tribe.  No one is quite sure why they built their houses so high up — protection from enemies, perhaps, or refuge from floods.  In any case, the complex is quite impressive.

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SLIM

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“You know you don’t have to act with me, Steve. You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and . . . blow.”

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