With so many writers and editors having been ousted, or accepting buyouts, in the first zillion rounds of newspaper downsizing, the common cost-cutting (and quality-lowering) strategies have shifted to the production arena. You don’t hear so much about these victims, because they tend not to have columns and blogs and such with which to spread their discontent to hordes of readers. But these are longtime, hard-working career journalists all the same.
A couple of weeks ago, Matt Ford, Production Manager of the New Haven Advocate, was let go. The three papers in the Advocate/Weekly chain now have just one full-time Production staffer. (The extremely nice Peter Uus, who’s been with the chain since the early ‘90s.) I worked closely with Matt for years, and while he didn’t always do the things which I tried to browbeat him into doing, he was always amusing about it. He also had “alternative” values that were needed at the paper—a taste for Z-grade horror flicks, local bands and social media that really enforced the Advocate atmosphere. I made Matt a regular contributor to the the short-review “Advocations” column I edited.
Some months ago, the Advocate/Weekly chain had most of its production duties taken over by workers in another part of the country, at a daily owned by same corporation which owns the Hartford Courant (which owns the Advocate/Weekly threesome). With Matt’s layoff, the papers—which have endured pinch after pinch, and now subsist at the lowest page-count and lowest amount of editorial content in the chain’s 40-year history—are in yet another phase removing them from the robust, interactive, community-based team-sport which these publications distinguished themselves as just a few years ago.

Meanwhile, next door to the Advocate’s old (1990s) offices near Long Wharf, New Haven’s equally hardhit daily, The Register, has announced plans to close its pressroom and outsource the printing of the paper to—hey, wow!—the Hartford Courant. Then the Register will sell its landmark highway-abutting headquarters at 40 Sargent Drive. The editorial operations will move downtown, where the Register hopes to start a community-friendly “open newsroom” along the lines of its sister paper The Register Citizen’s Newsroom Café in Torrington.

This is stunning news for those of us who remember the days when two separate dailies (the morning Journal-Courier and the evening Register) were still being created at 40 Sargent, not even 25 years ago. There are massive advantages to the move, including a new mobility for Register reporters. I recall when the New Haven Advocate offices moved downtown, and suddenly we could see whether there was big doings at the courthouse just from looking out our window. I once saw a protest marching down Church Street and was able to catch up with it within a couple of minutes. I watched the wrecking balls take down the old Hallock’s building through the window at my desk. It’s intoxicating to report on a city from the center of it, and I wish the Register reporters the best of luck in their (as yet undetermined) new location. The Register’s always been about “Community rooms” at their old place and “What should we cover now?” on their website, so they should be a great addition to whatever neighborhood they turn up in.

Seven-year-old Sally plays the soundtrack from Chipmunks 3: Chipwrecked constantly. (Amazingly, the film was not nominated for a single Oscar this week.) Her favorite track, most days, is “Vacation.” Unlike the blissfully ignorant younger brothers of some of my friends back in high school, who thought Van Halen wrote “You Really Got Me,” Sally at one point openly asked if “Vacation”
was a Chipmunks original.
I found the Go-Gos video of “Vacation” on Youtube and showed her that. Sally liked it fine but we didn’t even get through the whole thing before she started asking if there were any Ramones videos we could watch. The image of a girl group flailing fakely on water skis before a blue-screen ocean simply doesn’t have the staying power it did in 1984. And even Jane Wiedlin, Gina Schock and Belinda Carlisle can’t compete cuteness-wise with Brittany, Jeanette and Eleanor.
Meanwhile, midweek I usually wake up the girls with some melodic pop-punk, which tends to happily hasten the get-dressed-for-school process. On Wednesday I arbitrarily chose the 1990s Canadian “cuddlecore” band Cub, with which the girls are slightly familiar. (Archie comics artist extraordinaire Dan DeCarlo did the cover art for a Cub EP, which cements the band’s coolness in our house.)
“I wasn’t sure if this was Cub, or that group that did the ‘Vacation’ song first,” were Sally’s first words upon waking. Which led me to a buried memory—I went and grabbed a different Cub album, and there on track ten was Cub’s own cover of “Vacation.”
Small world, though clearly a nice own to take a vacation in. It’s one which Sally, who’s developing some pretty great pop-punk instincts, is keen to navigate.

We’ve written of Ellie’s Place, the downtown diner where the local scene was born. Some recall it as a place of shared tastes, town/gown equality, democracy.
Not so fast. The seating area next to the salad bar was known as Fortunate Fields because that’s where the prissy, slumming students from the college on the hill all sat. Likewise, the benches with the best view of the small stage and the quickest route to the bathroom was dubbed Aisle of the Blessed. The cheap seats—where the waitresses circulated less often, or behind posts—tended to go to townies. The economic disparity was clear—college students drank and ate more expensive stuff.
Still, at least these members of a formative downtown scene recognized each other as human beigns. The clubs on the highways out of town were regarded as dwellings of demons and monsters, pewrhaps because some of them doubled as strip clubs or illicit casinos. Those that lasted for a few years were soon able to be full-time clubs, with enough cheap local music talent to book every night. But these were still the dark ages.

Tonight: Submarine Caper (formerly Deadly Chase) at the Bullfinch, with Tic-Tac-Terror… Four-Headed Dragon and Crimson Flame, spandex covers at Hamilton’s… Cave-In (aka Cave-In!) at D’ollaire’s, featuring vocalist-for-hire Sky Sabotage.

Volunteered at the library.

Miracles of Modern Science. OUT DEC. 6. Inverts the Beach Boys ’67 formula by putting the strings foremost (this is an ensemble of fast-paced poppy classical players) and the harmonies further back. It gives the melodies an effect that’s somewhat Eastern, somewhat Philip Glass. Many of the tunes open with quick two-note repetitions, and most swiftly insert experimental classical techniques and counterpoints. Keeps you guessing, that’s for sure—it took me several listens before I was able to pay attention to the lyrics.

Shindig—the slick, moderately more mainstream British cousin of American ‘60s garage/psychedelic publications such as Ugly Things— is usually devoted to profiles and puffery. But the current issue has a delightfully snarky essay by Austin Matthews titled Snare Traps in the Forest of Delights. It excoriates rock drummers for indulging in endless solos, asking this pertinent question: “When [Eric] Clapton solos he’s accompanied by the entire band—why does Ginger [Baker] get to solo on his own?
Matthews’ take on Iron Butterfly’s “In-a-Gadda-da-Vida”:

A great rock song that they probably could have got an incredible five minutes out of is alarmingly extended by another 12, largely to incorporate the meandering solo shit-burps of all the members.

Matthews tries to see both sides of the issue, but ends with a “maybe… maybe not.” Essays in rock mags certainly can seem indulgent. This one reminds you that they have nothing on drum solos.

I made the New Haven Independent this week, described in a photo caption as a “Dwight dad,” and quoted in a story (by Allan Appel) about how Amistad Academy is acclimating itself to our neighborhood.
No kicks with the reporting, except that it overstates my desire to send my daughters to Amistad. Mabel and Sally didn’t even know we’d applied for them to go. They love the school they’re in more. We applied to Amistad in order to pursue all available options to us, because the school is just a block from our home, and largely because some of the politically active neighborhoods were strongly encouraging residents to apply, to demonstrate the number of children which a strong alliance between Amistad and the Dwight/Edgewood could serve.
Judging from the meeting of the Dwight Management Team where this came up, that particular tactic was unsuccessful (or at least unnoticed). The Amistad representative behaved as if this was an outreach attempt by the school, not a reaction to one from the neighborhood.
How I got in the story: I was one of the few at the meeting to speak up. My initial question was whether “neighborhood preference” was in effect for the current school year. It was a loaded question. Technically there was neighborhood preference at Amistad, yet if you’d gone to the usual listings where such things are mentioned, it wasn’t mentioned anywhere. If you didn’t talk directly to someone who worked there, it’s not information you’d know or could easily find. (It’s also not information you can take for granted. Many New Haven magnet and charter schools do not have neighborhood preference, or sibling preference for that matter.)
I was calling for clarification, and got it. Does this make me more likely to get into the lottery system and find a place for Mabel and Sally next school year? We’ve talked more about the possibility now, and for now they’re against it. They really do love the school they’re at now. They dislike schools with uniforms and overmuch discipline and longer days. They’re both getting good grades and already have college aspirations.
Amistad is a school we pass every day on the way to the schoolbus stop which brings the girls to their own school. We love its presence in the neighborhood, making the block safer and with a youthful energy. Having the school has gotten the community a nice new meeting room. As with so many institutions around here that we love and respect—Fellowship House, Rudy’s Bar, the Laundromat next to Stop & Shop, any number of churches and barber shops—we don’t have to join it to appreciate what its done for the area where we live.

Some definite gender and vanity issues among the (as always) cleverly punned or rhymed story titles in Betty & Veronica Double Digest #106, the July 2002 issue:
Touch and Go (Veronica’s not good at touch football)
Tear on the Dotted Line (when Betty & Veronica wear the same style of dress to school, Veronica rips Betty’s)
One of the Crowd (Veronica feels ignored because the gang won’t tease her)
Dr. Cooper’s Miracle Cure (Betty cures Veronica;s malaise by reminding her that she’s missing shopping and cheerleading opportunities)
Fit Bit (Veronica spends a lot, angering her father)
Bad Hair (A puzzle page where the solution answers the question “What’s up with Veronica’s hair dryer?”)
Veronica Takes the Cake (and gets inside it).
The Mall, Part One (a nightclub burns down; “I guess we have no gig this week,” The Archies lament”)
The Mall, Part Two (The Archies play in a deserted storefront at the Riverdale mall and save it from bankruptcy)
Muddy Waters (Veronica convinces her father that mud wrestling is the wrong sort of entertainment to invest in, by becoming its featured attraction)
Foolish Fashion (Betty suggests Veronica can get out of an unwanted date with Archie by wearing “something so silly he’ll be ashamed to be seen with you… like a lampshade and baggy clown clothes”)
Friendly Competition (Betty is better than Veronica at most things, except getting dates on Friday with Archie)
Dial Tone (Veronica spends a lot on ‘phone calls, angering her father)
The Flower of Youth (a Little Betty and Veronica story in which Little Sabrina makes flowers magically “change big people into small ones”)
Muscle Tussle (Little Betty and Little Veronica convince Little Jughead he should become a school athlete, against his wishes)
Fashion Time (a Little B&V pin-up page staged in front of clockfaces)
Uniform Solution (the Little Archie gang are obliged to wear school uniforms)
Weight and See (Veronica: “Eek!” Veronica’s Mother: “What’s wrong, did you break a nail?” Veronica: “Worse! I’ve gained three pounds!”)
The Believer (Jughead won’t stoop to pick up the grocery item he dropped because “it’s self-rising cake flour”)
Team Esteem (the girls are not allowed on the school sports field, so they develop their own winning baseball team)
Turnabout (Betty and Veronica, as Candy Stripers, nurse an anonymous, heavily bandaged patient who turns out to be major pop star “Keith Roberts”)
Weights and Measures (Veronica’s father is dieting)
Wishful Thinking (Betty is granted three wishes by a leprechaun; her first is to
“have Archie near me”)
Dress Dilemma (Reggie: “All set for the Soph Scuffle at the club tonight, Betty?” Betty: “Not quite, Reggie; I’ve still got to buy a new dress.” Reggie: “Chee! You women and your clothes! Why, if…”)
Net Regret (Betty & Veronica both improve their tennis playing abilities specifically so they can play against Archie)
Stop the Presses (Veronica is jealous of Betty and Archie spending a night together proofreading the school newspaper)
Getting the Message (The teenagers have acquired ecological awareness, and despair that their parents have not)
She’s a Good Ol’ Boy (Archie sees Betty as “one of the guys”)
The Wild Ones (Mr. Lodge fears Archie’s alleged clumsy manner will break his “priceless Tiffany” and “Aztec hatchet”)
Golf Gaff (too many female rivals for Betty at the miniature golf course)
Yankee Doodle Darling (Riverdale High School’s Dress-Up Day has “a patriotic flavor”; Veronica as Lady Liberty is “carrying a torch for Archie”)
We’re in the Money (Betty & Veronica visit Poshly Academy)
Keep on Truckin’ (Veronica must drive to the Fashion Expo in a beat-up old pick-up truck)
Never Trust a Man (Jughead: “Er, Arch! Why do you suppose Betty is following us like that?” Archie: “I can guess! She’d the latest in a series of watchdogs of my trusting girlfriend Ronnie!”
The Quitter (Smithers the butler leaves Mr. Lodge’s employ: “I’d gladly work for less money, Sir, if I could also have less Archie!.” Not a Betty & Veronica story at all.)

When Olympus studios was really cooking, back when a slab of vinyl was a crucial calling card for any band to build a following and land a management deal (remember those?), the producers there were gods. They could, and would, change a band’s whole style and identity on a whim, based on what was hot on the charts that week.
If an act had raised enough scratch, through constant gigging, hyping and humiliation, to gain entrance to the blue and white greenroom nicknamed the Gate of Clouds, they thought they’d made it into the heavens. But their hellish journey was just beginning.
The Oddsies, whose mature members had all cracked Olympus as teens in different bands, wrote a song about it:
So calm, so clean, so clinical,
A technological wonderland
A garden of experimental delight
The sweet dew of creativity, the calm rain of inspiration
How could it ever storm in there?

The Bullfinch is closed tonight for a private party. Not one you need to know about… Blues Nite at Hamilton’s with Sinister Signpost and Wildcat Swamp… More metal madness at D’ollaire’s (don’t they know school’s back in session; bring on the indies!) with Flickering Torch, Mark on the Door and A Figure in Hiding…

Helped a guy collect scrap paper for charity, tons of it, all day.